Mum woke us all early the following morning, to continue the job of cleaning the house. Today we were doing the drawing room, where there was a large infestation of Doxys, and a nest of dead Puffskins under the sofa. It was a long, high-ceilinged room on the first floor with olive green walls covered in dirty tapestries. The carpet exhaled little clouds of dust every time someone put their foot on it and the long, moss green velvet curtains were buzzing as though swarming with invisible bees. It was around these that Mum, Hermione, myself, Demelza, Amy, Fred and George were grouped. We each tied a cloth over our nose and mouth. Each of us was also holding a large bottle of black liquid with a nozzle at the end.
'Cover your faces and take a spray,' Mum said to Harry and Ron the moment she saw them, pointing to two more bottles. "It's doxycide. I've never seen an infestation this bad - what that house-elf's been doing for the last ten years -' Hermione's face was half concealed by a tea towel but she threw a reproachful look at Mum.
'Kreacher's really old, he probably couldn't manage -' Hermione began
'You'd be surprised what Kreacher can manage when he wants to, Hermione,' said Sirius, who had just entered the room carrying a bloodstained bag of what appeared to be dead rats. 'I've just been feeding Buckbeak,' he added, in reply to Harrys enquiring look. 'I keep him upstairs in my mothers bedroom. Anyway… this writing desk…' He dropped the bag of rats into an armchair, then bent over to examine the locked cabinet which, we now noticed for the first time, was shaking slightly. 'Well, Molly, I'm pretty sure this is a Boggart,' said Sirius, peering through rough the keyhole, 'but perhaps we ought to let Mad-Eye have a shifty at it before we let it out, especially after what happened the other day"
"Too right!" Demelza said, rubbing her neck.
Mum and Sirius were both speaking in carefully light, polite voices that told us quite plainly that neither had forgotten their disagreement of the night before. A loud, clanging bell sounded from downstairs, followed at once by the cacophony of screams and wails that had been triggered the previous night by Tonks knocking over the umbrella stand.
'I keep telling them not to ring the doorbell!' said Sirius exasperatedly, hurrying out of the room. They heard him thundering down the stairs as Mrs Black's screeches echoed up through the house once more: 'Stains, of dishonour, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth'
"Close the door, please, Harry,' said Mum
Harry paused for a moment, but I was disappointed to see him reluctantly obey.
Mum was bending over to check the page on Doxys in Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests, which was lying open on the sofa. I wondered why she was still using it despite how we'd proven he was a fraud. I know, the information was probably correct but if I was her, I'd have thrown them out right away or tried to get a refund. That man does not deserve any of our money!
'Right, you lot, you need to be careful, because Doxys bite and their teeth are poisonous. I've got a bottle of antidote here, but I'd rather nobody needed it.' She straightened up, positioned herself squarely in front of the curtains and beckoned us all forward.
'When I say the word, start spraying immediately,' she said. They'll come flying out at us, I expect, but it says on the sprays one good squirt will paralyse them. When they're immobilised, just throw them in this bucket.' She stepped carefully out of their line of fire, and raised her own spray. 'All right - squirt!'
We had been spraying only a few seconds when a fully-grown Doxy came soaring out of a fold in the material, shiny beetle-like wings whirring, tiny needle-sharp teeth bared, its fairylike body covered with thick black hair and its four tiny lists clenched with fury. Harry caught it full in the face with a blast of Doxycide. It froze in midair and fell, with a surprisingly loud thunk, on to the worn carpet below. Harry picked it up and threw it in the bucket.
'Fred, what are you doing?' said Mum sharply. 'Spray that at once and throw it away!'
Fred was holding a struggling Doxy between his forefinger and thumb.
'Right-o,' Fred said brightly, spraying the Doxy quickly in the face so that it fainted, but the moment Mum's back was turned he pocketed it with a wink.
He and Fred whispered something to Harry, but I couldn't hear it because I was busy killing Doxies myself. I was sure I'd find out later what it was.
The de-Doxying of the curtains took most of the morning. It was past midday when Mum finally removed her protective scarf, sank into a sagging armchair and sprang up again with a cry of disgust, having sat on the bag of dead rats. Demelza, Amy and I couldn't help but laugh.
"You three best hope you don't find one of these in your beds later tonight!" Mum said, and that shut us up.
The curtains were no longer buzzing; they hung limp and damp from the intensive spraying. At the foot of them unconscious Doxys lay crammed in the bucket beside a bowl of their black eggs, at which Crookshanks was now sniffing and Fred and George were shooting covetous looks.
'I think we'll tackle those after lunch.' Mum pointed at the dusty glass-fronted cabinets standing on either side of the mantelpiece. They were crammed with an odd assortment of objects: a selection of rusty daggers, claws, a coiled snakeskin, a number of tarnished silver boxes inscribed with languages we could not understand and, least pleasant of all, an ornate crystal bottle with a large opal set into the stopper, full of what we were quite sure was blood. The clanging doorbell rang again. Everyone looked at Mum.
'Stay here,' she said firmly, snatching up the bag of rats as Mrs Black's screeches started up again from down below. I'll bring up some sandwiches.'
She left the room, closing the door carefully behind her. At once, everyone dashed over to the window to look down on the doorstep. We could see the top of an unkempt gingery head and a stack of precariously balanced cauldrons.
'Mundungus!' said Hermione. 'What's he brought all those cauldrons for?
Mundungus Fletcher was a career criminal that for some reason I couldn't fathom, had been allowed to join the Order.
"What does he possibly bring to the Order that I couldn't?" said Harry
"Being of age" said Ron bitterly. "That's more important than skill to them"
'In terms of the cauldrons, he's probably looking for a sale place to keep them,' said Harry. 'Isn't that what he was doing the night he was supposed to be tailing me? Picking up dodgy cauldrons?'
'Yeah, you're right!' said Fred, as the front door opened; Mundungus heaved his cauldrons through it and disappeared from view. 'Blimey, Mum won't like that..."