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'I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this,' Lupin continued, 'he's old enough to decide for himself.'
'He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!' said Mrs Weasley. 'He's only fifteen and - '
'Stains of dishonour, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of flith . . .'
The de-Doxying of the curtains took most of the morning. It was past 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 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 Crook-shanks was now sniffing and Fred and George were shooting covetous looks.;