Setting things to rights - 5

"Better than Dung deserves," Fred said, taking in a deep breath.

"What about using magic in Muggle areas?" Ron asked, glancing uneasily at the window as if he expected a Ministry owl to appear any moment.

Harry shrugged. "There are no Muggles here now, and I couldn't concentrate with that stench."

"So, what are we looking for?" Fred asked.

"The last time we saw Dung, he had a suitcase full of trinkets that he'd nicked from headquarters. I need to see what's in that suitcase," Harry replied, looking at Ron significantly. They'd brought the Spell Detector, but he hoped to avoid having to explain to Fred and George what they were doing with it. Ron removed it from his pocket and quietly slipped into the bedroom.

Housecleaning spells were certainly something Dung hadn't bothered with, for the flat was a mess. They found an abundance of empty Ogden's Firewhisky bottles in addition to a variety of Muggle alcohol and little else.

When Fred located a stack of magazines stored inside a footstool, he whistled loudly. "Dung, you old dog. These PlayWizards date back to Dad's Hogwarts days."

Ron and George quickly peered over their brother's shoulder as he flipped through the pages. Harry, who had been searching through Dung's closet and had nothing to show for it but a nasty Doxy bite, was irritated. He was about to snap at them to get back to work when he caught a glimpse of the centerfold they were unfolding. Harry felt his skin coloring. He'd heard the blokes in his dormitory talking about that, but to see it…

After a fairly lengthy delay, they finally dragged their attention away from the magazines and went back to work. The four boys searched Dung's flat as thoroughly as teenage boys were able to do. They'd found loads of questionable items, including a folded flying carpet tucked under Dung's mattress, but no suitcase.

Fred and George confiscated the carpet, along with several various odds and ends that they had stuffed inside their pockets.

"It's not like it was really Dung's to begin with," Fred said when Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, he just nicked it from someone else," Ron added, admiring the carpet that Fred still held. "Besides, Harry, don't tell me you don't want a go on this thing. They've been illegal forever. Dad's never even been able to sneak one home."

Harry grinned. "The way I see it, Dung has a load of rubbish here that's part of my inheritance. The carpet calls us even – he probably found it at headquarters anyway."

"He did," George said, examining the underside of the carpet. "It's got the Black family crest embroidered on it."

"Then I get first go," Harry said, grinning.

Fred and George looked at one another, their facial expressions changing in that odd way of silent communication that Harry had seen them use previously.

"Fair enough," Fred said, "but we get to keep the other stuff. Besides, Dung's landlord is going to chuck it all out before Dung is released, anyway."

"The suitcase isn't here," Harry said dejectedly. As one final idea occurred to him, he said, "Accio suitcase."

Nothing happened.

"Accio locket," he tried again, holding his breath. Still, nothing happened.

"What do we do now?" Ron asked, glancing around the messy apartment. "Where do we look next?"

Harry frowned, considering his options before an idea struck him. "Do any of you know what happens to your stuff when you get arrested? I mean, if Dung was hauled in by the Ministry, and the suitcase was with him, where would it be?"