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 paralyse them. When they’re immobilised, just throw them in this bucket.”
She stepped carefully out of their line of fire, and raised her own spray.
“All right—squirt!”
Harry 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 lists clenched with fury. Harry 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. Harry picked it up and threw it in the bucket.
“Fred, what are you doing?” said Mrs. Weasley sharply. “Spray that at once and throw it away!”