Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by J.K. Rowling Page A

comfortable time… asking me how the cleanings going -'
    'What cleaning?' asked Harry.
    Trying to make this place fit for human habitation,' said Sirius, waving a hand around the dismal kitchen. 'No one's lived here for ten years, not since my dear mother died, unless you count her old house-elf, and he's gone round the twist - hasn't cleaned anything in ages.'
    'Sirius,' said Mundungus, who did not appear to have paid any attention to the conversation, but had been closely examining an empty goblet. 'This solid silver, mate?'
    'Yes,' said Sirius, surveying it with distaste. 'Finest fifteenth-century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest.'
    That'd come orf, though,' muttered Mundungus, polishing it with his cuff.
    'Fred - George - NO, JUST CARRY THEM!' Mrs. Weasley shrieked.
    Harry, Sirius and Mundungus looked round and, within a split second, they had dived away from the table. Fred and George had bewitched a large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of Butterbeer and a heavy wooden breadboard, complete with knife, to hurtle through the air towards them. The stew skidded the length of the table and came to a halt just before the end, leaving a long black burn on the wooden surface; the flagon of Butterbeer fell with a crash, spilling its contents everywhere; the bread knife slipped off the board and landed, point down and quivering ominously, exactly where Sirius's right hand had been seconds before.
    'FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!' screamed Mrs. Weasley. THERE WAS NO NEED - I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS - JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW, YOU DON'T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!'
    'We were just trying to save a bit of time!' said Fred, hurrying forward to wrench the bread knife out of the table. 'Sorry, Sirius, mate - didn't mean to -'
    Harry and Sirius were both laughing; Mundungus, who had toppled backwards off his chair, was swearing as he got to his feet; Crookshanks had given an angry hiss and shot off under the dresser, from where his large yellow eyes glowed in the darkness.
    'Boys,' Mr Weasley said, lifting the stew back into the middle of the table, 'your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now you've come of age -'
    'None of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!' Mrs. Weasley raged at the twins as she slammed a fresh flagon of Butterbeer on to the table, and spilling almost as much again. 'Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't charm everything he met! Percy -'
    She stopped dead, catching her breath with a frightened look at her husband, whose expression was suddenly wooden.
    'Let's eat,' said Bill quickly.
    'It looks wonderful, Molly,' said Lupin, ladling stew on to a plate for her and handing it across the table.
    For a few minutes there was silence but for the chink of plates and cutlery and the scraping of chairs as everyone settled down to their food. Then Mrs. Weasley turned to Sirius.
    'I've been meaning to tell you, Sirius, there's something trapped in that writing desk in the drawing room, it keeps rattling and shaking. Of course, it could just be a Boggart, but I thought we ought to ask Alastor to have a look at it before we let it out.'
    'Whatever you like,' said Sirius indifferently.
    'The curtains in there are full of Doxys, too,' Mrs. Weasley went on. 'I thought we might try and tackle them tomorrow.'
    'I look forward to it,' said Sirius. Harry heard the sarcasm in his voice, but he was not sure that anyone else did.
    Opposite Harry, Tonks was entertaining Hermione and Ginny by transforming her nose between mouthfuls. Screwing up her eyes each time with the same pained expression she had worn back in Harry's bedroom, her nose swelled to a beak-like protuberance that resembled Snape's, shrank to the size of a button mushroom and then sprouted a great deal of hair from each nostril. Apparently this was a regular mealtime entertainment, because Hermione and Ginny were soon requesting their favourite