"Fred George Fred George please don't be dead please," he gasped, as he knelt beside their crumpled forms and Ron's shorter strides clattered up behind him. They were both bleeding from the temples, and George's arm was bent in a decidedly unnatural way. Percy felt for pulses - he reached out with both hands, because there was no part of him whatsoever that was capable of deciding between the two of them - and very nearly collapsed in relief. "They're breathing," he said, "they're both breathing, Ron, they're alive."