TW: mistreatment of house elves
The next morning they found themselves armed with spray bottles against the Doxie infestation in the upstairs sitting room.
Hermione covered her lower face with a bandana and aimed the bottle at the curtains.
"Ready? Spray," said Mrs. Weasley.
Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Sirius, and Mrs. Weasley sprayed continuously at the curtains until a swarm of Doxies emerged.
Hermione aimed directly at the faces of the hairy, little fairies. She didn't want to be pricked by their poisonous teeth.
She felt a twinge of remorse as the first few dropped to the ground, paralyzed. It didn't take more than a few to fall before she was used to it.
"Fred. George. Stop fooling around and just spray them," Mrs. Weasley's voice came from across the room.
Fred was pinning down a Doxie by it's four arms and it was struggling madly.
"Right. Sorry mum," said George and sprayed the Doxie.
Mrs. Weasley sighed and returned to the curtains. Hermione watched Fred slip the Doxie into his pocket and narrowed her eyes. They were definitely up to something.
The swarming slowed as the buckets filled. It was nearly lunch time when they were finally able to sink down into the chesterfields.
The curtains hung limp and damp behind them and Mrs. Weasley sprung up with a shriek as she sat down on the armchair where Sirius had left the bag of dead rats for Buckbeak.
Fred and George had their heads together off in a corner, Sirius and Harry had wandered to look at the Black family tapestry, and Mrs. Weasley was resting her head in one hand. Ron and Ginny were playfully pushing each other back and forth.
Hermione allowed herself to relax.
Downstairs, the doorbell rang.
"I keep telling them not to ring the doorbell," Sirius said. Moments later Mrs. Black started wailing and the other portraits throughout the house shouted at her to shut up.
Mrs. Weasley sprung from the chair. "Everybody stay here," she ordered, closing the door behind herself and Sirius.
Everybody ran to the window. Mundungus was standing on the stoop beside a pile of dodgey looking cauldrons.
"WE ARE NOT BECOMING A STOREHOUSE FOR SMUGGLED GOODS!" shouted Mrs. Weasley.
"Stupid," said Ron. "Mum's been waiting to have a go at him ever since he left when he was supposed to be tailing you. He's gone and given her the perfect excuse."
"The idiot is letting her get into her stride. You've got to cut her off at the start otherwise she'll go on for hours," said Fred.
"That's not a very nice way to talk about your mother," said Hermione.
"Whatever, it's true," said Ron.
Mrs. Weasley came back into the room breathing heavily and still a little red in the face. She levitated a platter of sandwiches onto the coffee table, "Here's lunch. Stay here until someone comes to get you."
She was back through the door before anyone had time to say thank you.
Fred went and opened the door a crack, "I wonder what they're talking about. Do you think it's worth getting the Extendable Ears?" As he leaned out the door Kreacher slipped under his arm.
"Nasty little blood traitors, all of them," he muttered. "Oh if my mistress could see this house now, how she would suffer. Criminals and traitors, werewolves and that awful son that broke her heart when he ran away. Can't have them soiling the house with their filth. Horrid things. Touching everything."
"Hello Kreacher," said Fred, closing the door with a snap.
Kreacher jumped and bowed low. "Kreacher did not see the young master standing there," he said. Then added under his breath, "So unnatural. Twins. And there's the other one." He stood their shaking his head. "Who's this new boy? Don't know what he's doing here, bold as brass. Just as filthy as the rest of them, I'd suppose. Associating with them."
Harry looked as if he was equally likely to burst into laughter or into a fit of rage. Hermione wasn't sure.
"This is Harry," she said, tentatively. "Harry Potter."
Kreacher's eyes widened. "The Mudblood is talking to Kreacher as though she is his friend. What would Mistress say if she saw?"
"Don't call her that!" Ron and Ginny shouted.
"It's okay," said Hermione. "He doesn't know what he's saying. He hasn't had a chance to learn that it's wrong."
"He knows exactly what he's saying and he knows it's offensive," said Sirius, entering the room. His voice was harsh, "What are you doing here, Kreacher?"
Kreacher bowed so low his long nose touched the dusty carpet. "Kreacher was cleaning."
"A likely story," Sirius said and snorted.
"Kreacher takes care of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black."
"It gets blacker every day. You haven't done a spot of cleaning in twelve years. What were you in here for?"
"Master did always like his little joke." Kreacher said, and then mumbled "Kreacher couldn't let them take the tapestry. It's been in the family ten generations. Mistress would never forgive Kreacher if he let them destroy it."
"I thought that might be it," said Sirius without sympathy. "Now get out. Go make yourself useful elsewhere."
It seemed as though Kreacher couldn't bear to disobey a direct order from Sirius, no matter how much he despised his master or the order. With a crack he disappeared.