Emma Potter; Going to War

9: Wonderful Work

The de-doxying of the curtains took most of the morning. It waspast midday when Mrs. Weasley 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.

 The curtains were no longerbuzzing; they hung limp and damp from the intensive spraying; unconscious doxies lay crammed in the bucket at the foot of them besidea bowl of their black eggs, at which Crookshanks was now sniffingand Fred and George were shooting covetous looks.

 "I think we'll tackle those after lunch."Mrs. Weasley pointed at the dusty glass-fronted cabinets standingon either side of the mantelpiece. They were crammed with an oddassortment of objects: a selection of rusty daggers, claws, a coiled snakeskin, a number of tarnished silver boxes inscribed with languages I could not understand and, least pleasant of all, an ornate crystal bottle with a large opal set into the stopper, full of what I wasquite sure was blood. 

The clanging doorbell rang again. Everyone looked at Mrs. Weasley."Stay here," she said firmly, snatching up the bag of rats as Mrs.Blacks screeches started up again from down below. "I'll bring upsome sandwiches." She left the room, closing the door carefully behind her. 

At once,everyone dashed over to the window to look down onto 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?"

 "Probably looking for a safe place to keep them," said Harry. "Isn'tthat what he was doing the night he was supposed to be tailing us?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. . . ." 

He and George crossed to the door and stood beside it, listeningintently. Mrs. Black's screaming had stopped again."Mundungus is talking to Sirius and Kingsley," Fred muttered,frowning with concentration. "Can't hear properly . . . d'you reckonwe can risk the Extendable Ears?"

 "Might be worth it," said George. "I could sneak upstairs and get apair —" 

But at that precise moment there was an explosion of sound fromdownstairs that rendered Extendable Ears quite unnecessary. All of us could hear exactly what Mrs. Weasley was shouting at the top ofher voice. 

"WE ARE NOT RUNNING A HIDEOUT FOR STOLENGOODS!"

 "I love hearing Mum shouting at someone else," said Fred, with asatisfied smile on his face as he opened the door an inch or so to allowMrs. Weasley's voice to permeate the room better. "It makes such anice change." 

"— COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE, AS IF WE HAVEN'TGOT ENOUGH TO WORRY ABOUT WITHOUT YOU DRAGGING STOLEN CAULDRONS INTO THE HOUSE —"

 "The idiots are letting her get into her stride," said George, shakinghis head. "You've got to head her off early, otherwise she builds up ahead of steam and goes on for hours. And she's been dying to have ago at Mundungus ever since he sneaked off when he was supposed tobe following you, Harry — and there goes Sirius's mum again —" 

Mrs. Weasley's voice was lost amid fresh shrieks and screams fromthe portraits in the hall. George made to shut the door to drown thenoise, but before he could do so, a house-elf edged into the room. 

Except for the filthy rag tied like a loincloth around its middle, itwas completely naked. It looked very old. Its skin seemed to be severaltimes too big for it and though it was bald like all house-elves, therewas a quantity of white hair growing out of its large, batlike ears. Itseyes were a bloodshot and watery gray, and its fleshy nose was largeand rather snoutlike.