"I won't let them do that, Tori," Bill told her sharply as they sat hunched over the counter. "I'll get Fleur right on it."

Tori nodded, her mind a bit more at ease before she could hear Molly bid the twins goodnight. Tori left the kitchen with a loud crack and appeared next to them, causing them to jump.

"Merlin's beard, Tori." George gasped, grabbing his heart. "Now you know how everyone else feels," Tori replied, turning to see Fred leaning against the door.

"Mum's gone. Let's go talk to Harry." Fred said, vanishing. Tori sighed, following after.

Crack.

''OUCH!"

''Keep your voice down, Ron, or Mum'll be back up here."

''You two just Apparated on my knees! Ow, Tori!"

''Yeah, well, it's harder in the dark—"

The blurred outlines of Fred and George leapt down from Ron's bed. Tori patted Ron's knee before scooting over next to Fred. There was a groan of bedsprings and Harry's mattress descended a few inches as George sat down near the boy's feet.

''So, got there yet?" George asked eagerly.

''The weapon Sirius mentioned?" Harry's silhouette tilted his head.

''Let slip, more like," said Fred with relish, now sitting next to Ron and Tori. "We didn't hear about that on the old Extendables, did we?"

''What d'you reckon it is?" Tori asked, keeping her voice below a whisper in case Molly was listening.

''Could be anything," Fred shrugged.

''But there can't be anything worse than the Avada Kedavra curse, can there?" Ron said. "What's worse than death?"

Tori shifted uncomfortably.

''Maybe it's something that can kill loads of people at once," George suggested.

"Maybe it's some particularly painful way of killing people," Ron shook fearfully.

''He's got the Cruciatus Curse for causing pain,' Harry's shadow said. "He doesn't need anything more efficient than that."

There was a pause and Tori knew that the others, like her, were wondering what horrors this weapon could perpetrate.

''So who d'you think got it now?" asked George.

''I hope it's our side," said Ron, sounding slightly nervous. Tori didn't blame him.

''If it is, Dumbledore's probably keeping it," Tori whispered, running her hands through her hair.

''Where?'' Ron asked quickly. "Hogwarts?"

''Bet it is!" George's shadow nodded eagerly. Tori was already sure he was wondering if they could find it. "That's where he hid the Philosopher's Stone."

''A weapon's going to be a lot bigger than the Stone, though!" Ron said.

''Not necessarily," Fred pointed out. George was quick to agree. "Yeah, size is no guarantee of power, look at Ginny."

''What d'you mean?" Harry asked once again.

''You've never been on the receiving end of one of her Bat-Bogey Hexes, have you?"

''Shhh!" Fred said, half-rising from the bed. ''Listen!"

They fell silent. Footsteps were coming up the stairs.

''Mum," said George and without further ado, there was a loud crack. Tori apparated as well, appearing next to the twins in their room once again.

"What are you doing? Go back to your own room!" George whisper shouted as Molly's footsteps began to come towards them. "I panicked!" Tori whisper shouted, plopping herself in a chair and opening a random dusty book the moment the door opened.

"Alright, I said I wanted all of you in bed. That means you three as well." Molly's voice was soft as she stood

"Mum, we're seventeen," Fred complained, not looking suspicious at all while he was trying to hide the bubbling cauldron.

"Fine. We have a long day of cleaning tomorrow, so I don't want to hear any of you complaining how exhausted you are because you're staying up late. Goodnight." She shut the door and the trio waited until they could hear her footsteps leave the stairs completely.

"She's right. I'm going to head off to bed." Tori sighed, getting up quickly. She stretched out her back before heading towards the door where Fred stood peering out.

"Leaving so soon? I thought you liked us." He complained.

"Goodnight, Freddie." Tori chuckled, leaning up and kissing him before heading down the stairs. She slipped through the bedroom door and into the room where Hermione sat on her bed, stroking her cat.

Ginny was already sleeping, much to Tori's relief. Hermione yawned, biding Tori goodnight before turning off the light.

Tori crawled into bed once she was in her pajamas, staring up at the ceiling. As she fell asleep she could slowly feel herself back on her broom, soaring into the sky.

✧ ✦ ✧

Molly was right. Tori was exhausted when she was finally woken up by Ginny the following morning.

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 Molly, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George, and Tori were grouped, all looking rather peculiar as they had each tied a cloth over their nose and mouth. Each of them was also holding a large bottle of black liquid with a nozzle at the end.

''Cover your faces and take a spray," Molly said to Harry and Ron the moment she saw them, pointing to two more bottles of black liquid standing on a spindle-legged table.

"It's Doxycide. I've never seen an infestation this bad — what that house-elf's been doing for the last ten years—"

Tori coughed loudly, holding her cloth tighter around her face. Molly was quick to instruct them to start helping out when the doorbell had rang.

"Right, you lot, you need to be careful, because doxy's 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 them 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 paralyze them. When they're immobilized, just throw them in this bucket."

She stepped carefully out of their line of fire and raised her own spray.

''Alright— squirt!"

Tori 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 fairy-like body covered with thick black hair and its four tiny fists clenched with fury. She raised her spray bottle and 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. Tori picked it up and threw it in the bucket.

"Fred, what are you doing?" Molly demanded sharply. ''Spray that at once and throw it away!"

Tori turned. 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 Molly's back was turned he pocketed it with a wink.

''We want to experiment with doxy venom for our Skiving Snackboxes," Tori heard George tell Harry under his breath.

Deftly spraying two doxies at once as they soared straight for his nose, Harry moved closer to George and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, ''What are Skiving Snackboxes?"

''Range of sweets to make you ill," George whispered, keeping a wary eye on Molly's back. Tori scooted closer, picking up a couple of the nasty creatures. ''Not seriously ill, mind, just ill enough to get you out of a class when you feel like it. Fred and I have been developing them this summer. They're double-ended, color-coded chews. If you eat the orange half of the Puking Pastilles, you throw up. Moment you've been rushed out of the lesson for the hospital wing, you swallow the purple half—"

"—which restores you to full fitness, enabling you to pursue the leisure activity of your own choice during an hour that would otherwise have been devoted to unprofitable boredom. That's what we're putting in the adverts, anyway," whispered Fred, who had edged over out of Molly's line of vision and was now sweeping a few stray doxies from the floor and adding them to his pocket. ''But they still need a bit of work. At the moment our testers are having a bit of trouble stopping themselves puking long enough to swallow the purple end."

''Testers?"

''Us,' said Fred, gesturing to George, himself, and Tori. "We take it in turns. George did the Fainting Fancies— Tori tried the Truth Spilling Tea— George and I both tried the Nosebleed Nougat—"

''Mum thought we'd been dueling," George chuckled.

''Jokeshop still on, then?" Harry muttered, pretending to be adjusting the nozzle on his spray.

''Well, we haven't had a chance to get premises yet," Fred whispered, dropping his voice even lower as Molly mopped her brow with her scarf before returning to the attack, ''So we're running it as a mail-order service at the moment. We put advertisements in the Daily Prophet last week."

''All thanks to you, mate," said George. ''But don't worry... Mum hasn't got a clue. She won't read the Daily Prophet any more, cause of it telling lies about you and Dumbledore."

Harry grinned. He had forced the Weasley twins to take the thousand-Galleon prize money he had won in the Triwizard Tournament to help them realize their ambition to open a joke shop, but he was still glad to know that his part in furthering their plans was unknown to Molly. She did not think running a joke shop was a suitable career for two of her sons.

The de-doxying of the curtains took most of the morning. It was past midday when Molly 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 longer buzzing; they hung limp and damp from the intensive spraying; unconscious doxies lay crammed in the bucket at the foot of them 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."

Molly 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 Tori could not understand, and, least pleasant of all, an ornate crystal bottle with a large opal set into the stopper, full of what Tori was quite sure was blood.

The clanging doorbell rang again. Everyone looked at Molly.

''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. They could see the top of an unkempt gingery head and a stack of precariously balanced cauldrons.

''Mundungus!" Hermione said. "What's he brought all those cauldrons for?"

''Probably looking for a safe place to keep them," Harry stated. "Isn't that what he was doing the night he was supposed to be tailing me? Picking up dodgy cauldrons?"

''Yeah, you're right!" Fred chuckled as the front door opened; Mundungus heaved his cauldrons through it and disappeared from view. "Blimey, Mum won't like that..."

Tori chuckled as he and George crossed to the door and stood beside it, listening closely. Mrs. Black's screaming had stopped.

''Mundungus is talking to Sirius and Kingsley," Fred muttered, frowning with concentration. ''Can't hear properly, d'you reckon we can risk the Extendable Ears?"

''Might be worth it," George pondered looking over at Tori, who shrugged. "I could sneak upstairs and get a pair—"

But at that precise moment, there was an explosion of sound from downstairs that rendered Extendable Ears quite unnecessary. All of them could hear exactly what Molly was shouting at the top of her voice.

''WE ARE NOT RUNNING A HIDEOUT FOR STOLEN GOODS!"

''I love hearing Mum shouting at someone else," Fred sighed with a satisfied smile on his face as he opened the door an inch or so to allow Molly's voice to permeate the room better, ''It makes such a nice change."

"— COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE, AS IF WE HAVEN'T GOT ENOUGH TO WORRY ABOUT WITHOUT YOU DRAGGING STOLEN CAULDRONS INTO THE HOUSE—"

''The idiots are letting her get into her stride," Tori chuckled, leaning against the door. She wasn't often yelled at by Molly, but she hated it when she was.

George was shaking his head. ''You've got to head her off early otherwise she builds up a head of steam and goes on for hours. And she's been dying to have a go at Mundungus ever since he sneaked off when he was supposed to be following you, Harry — and there goes Sirius's mum again."

Molly's voice was lost amid fresh shrieks and screams from the portraits in the hall.

George made to shut the door to drown the noise, but before he could do so, a house-elf edged into the room.

Kreacher was the Black's house-elf and he shared the same ugly look on the inside and the outside. His skin seemed to be several times too big for it and, though it was bald like all house-elves, there was a quantity of white hair growing out of its large, batlike ears. His eyes were a bloodshot and watery grey and its fleshy nose was large and rather snoutlike. Kreacher took absolutely no notice of Tori and the rest.

"... smells like a drain and a criminal to boot, but she's no better, nasty old blood traitor with her brats messing up my mistress's house, oh, my poor mistress, if she knew, if she knew the scum they've let into her house, what would she say to old Kreacher, oh, the shame of it, Mudbloods and werewolves and traitors and thieves, poor old Kreacher, what can he do..."

''Hello, Kreacher," Fred said very loudly, closing the door with a snap.

The house-elf froze in his tracks, stopped muttering, and gave a very pronounced and very unconvincing start of surprise.

''Kreacher did not see Young Master," He said, turning around and bowing to Fred. Still lacing the carpet, he added, perfectly audibly, ''Nasty little brat of a blood traitor it is."

''Sorry?" George said. "Didn't catch that last bit."

''Kreacher said nothing," said the elf, with a second bow to George, adding in a clear undertone, ''And there's its twin, unnatural little beasts they are."

"Would you like to repeat yourself?" Tori snapped, taking a step forward. Fred grabbed her arm, shaking his head.

The elf straightened up, eyeing them all malevolently, and apparently convinced that they could not hear him as he continued to mutter.

"Another blood traitor... coming from this Silvers. Oh, how things go wrong..."

Tori rolled her eyes.

"... and there's the Mudblood, standing there bold as brass, oh if my mistress knew, oh, how she'd cry, and there's a new boy, Kreacher doesn't know his name. What is he doing here? Kreacher doesn't know..."

''This is Harry, Kreacher," said Hermione tentatively. "Harry Potter."

Kreacher's pale eyes widened and he muttered faster and more furiously than ever.

''The Mudblood is talking to Kreacher as though she is my friend, if Kreacher's mistress saw him in such company, oh, what would she say—"

''Don't call her a Mudblood!" Ron and Ginny yelled together, very angrily.

''It doesn't matter,' Hermione whispered, ''He's not in his right mind, he doesn't know what he's—"

''Don't kid yourself, Hermione, he knows exactly what he's saying," said Fred, eyeing Kreacher with great dislike.

Kreacher was still muttering, his eyes on Harry.

''Is it true? Is it Harry Potter? Kreacher can see the scar, it must be true, that's the boy who stopped the Dark Lord, Kreacher wonders how he did it—"

''Don't we all, Kreacher," Fred muttered.

''What do you want, anyway? Besides coming in here to insult us?" Tori asked.

Kreacher's huge eyes darted towards her.

''Kreacher is cleaning," He said evasively.

''A likely story," said Sirius's voice. He was glowering at the elf from the doorway. The noise in the hall had abated; perhaps Molly and Mundungus had moved their argument down into the kitchen.

At the sight of Sirius, Kreacher flung himself into a ridiculously low bow that flattened his snoutlike nose on the floor.

''Stand up straight," Sirius said impatiently. "Now, what are you up to?"

''Kreacher is cleaning," The elf repeated. ''Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black—"

"—and it's getting blacker every day, it's filthy," said Sirius.

''Master always liked his little joke," said Kreacher, bowing again, and continuing in an undertone, ''Master was a nasty ungrateful swine who broke his mother's heart—"

''My mother didn't have a heart, Kreacher," Sirius snapped. "She kept herself alive out of pure spite."

Kreacher bowed again as he spoke.

"Whatever Master says," He muttered furiously. "Master is not fit to wipe slime from his mother's boots, oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw Kreacher serving him, how she hated him, what a disappointment he was —"

''I asked you what you were up to,' said Sirius coldly. "Every time you show up pretending to be cleaning, you sneak something off to your room so we can't throw it out."

''Kreacher would never move anything from its proper place in Master's house," said the elf, then muttered very fast, ''Mistress would never forgive Kreacher if the tapestry was thrown out, seven centuries it's been in the family, Kreacher must save it, Kreacher will not let Master and the blood traitors and the brats destroy it—"

''I thought it might be that," said Sirius, casting a disdainful look at the opposite wall. "She'll have put another Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of it, I don't doubt, but if I can get rid of it I certainly will. Now go away, Kreacher."

It seemed that Kreacher did not dare disobey a direct order; nevertheless, the look he gave Sirius as he shuffled out past him was full of deepest loathing and he muttered all the way out of the room.

"— comes back from Azkaban ordering Kreacher around, oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw the house now, scum living in it, her treasures thrown out, she swore he was no son of hers and he's back, they say he's a murderer too—"

''Keep muttering and I will be a murderer!" Sirius shouted irritably as he slammed the door shut on the elf.

''Sirius, he's not right in the head," Hermione pleaded, ''I don't think he realizes we can hear him."

''He's been alone too long," said Sirius, ''Taking mad orders from my mother's portrait and talking to himself, but he was always a foul little—"

''If you could just set him free," Hermione suggested hopefully, "Maybe—"

''We can't set him free, he knows too much about the Order," Sirius shrugged curtly. "And anyway, the shock would kill him. You suggest to him that he leaves this house, see how he takes it. Now, how about lunch?"

how are you all doing?
schools been a little tough.
i spent like over three hours yesterday on homework