Immediately after, Alan drew his wand and unleashed a barrage of cleaning charms. He used seven or eight Scourgify spells throughout the guest room, followed by a thorough rinsing with Aguamenti. He didn't miss a single corner, ensuring the walls and ceiling were scrubbed clean.
After draining the wastewater out the window, he cast several drying spells. After a period of diligent work, the room finally met his standards.
At that moment, Sirius's voice drifted up from downstairs. "Hey! I have to head out for a bit to meet some friends. Just stay put; I'll bring dinner back later. If you're too hungry to wait, there's an Italian place nearby with decent pizza. Just be careful on your own, and don't let any Muggles see you casting spells."
With a sharp crack of Apparition, Sirius was gone.
"Meeting friends? He's probably heading to an Order meeting," Alan mused. He didn't dwell on it and returned to his cleaning. Once the guest room was pristine, he walked downstairs and surveyed the rest of the house. His disdain for the clutter returned instantly.
He noticed that Sirius's home was well-equipped with Muggle appliances: a refrigerator, a radio, electric lights, and a built-in oven. Unfortunately, there was no television to pass the time. Looking at the chaos in the living room, Alan felt he couldn't simply sit among the mess. He rolled up his sleeves, his resolve hardening.
"If you can't even handle your domestic affairs, how can you maintain your fighting spirit?" Alan grumbled, channeling his inner drill sergeant.
He started in the kitchen. He turned on the faucet and flicked his wand. The mountain of pots, pans, and crusty dishes rose into the air, lining up like soldiers. Under Alan's command, they marched through the stream of water one by one. They were scrubbed, rinsed, and dried with a floating rag. He repeated the cycle three times until the ceramic sparkled, finishing them off with a final Scourgify for good measure.
Simultaneously, he used Aguamenti to blast the grease from the counters and floor. After an hour of intense labor, the kitchen was finally orderly.
Next, he moved to the living room. He tried standard cleaning spells on the oil-stained sofa, but the grime had practically bonded with the fabric.
"So stubborn?" Alan rubbed his chin, deep in thought. A new idea surfaced.
He pointed his wand at the sofa again, but this time he didn't reach for a cleaning charm. Instead, he utilized the Extraction Spell he had learned at Hogwarts. Using a modified technique, he targeted the stains specifically. Under the influence of the spell, the deep-seated dirt was pulled from the fibers piece by piece.
"I never thought I'd apply this spell to housework first," Alan thought with a wry smile. The results were undeniable; once the stains were extracted, the sofa looked as if it had just come off the showroom floor.
Delighted by the discovery, he repeated the trick on the carpets, the tabletops, and the floor. The efficiency was staggering. In no time, Alan had reached every corner of the ground floor, rearranging the furniture into a precise, orderly layout.
He finished by purging the refrigerator, tossing out several moldy, unidentified objects before making a quick run to a nearby Muggle supermarket to restock the shelves with fresh supplies.
"Mission accomplished." Alan surveyed the refreshed living room, feeling a sense of satisfaction.
Around eight o'clock that evening, the Muggle street outside was quiet. Every house was brightly lit, and several were already draped in festive Christmas lights. Sirius, carrying a pizza box, swayed leisurely toward his front door.
He pushed the door open with a bang and started to walk in, only to freeze. He stumbled back out onto the porch, looking up and down the street to make sure he was at the right address. "This is definitely the right house," he mumbles, "so why don't I recognize the inside?"
He stepped back in, his eyes wide. The furniture, carpets, and curtains looked brand new. A sweet, clean scent replaced the smell of old laundry. The lights seemed brighter, reflecting off the polished surfaces. But the most jarring sight was the Christmas tree standing proudly by the fireplace.
It was decorated with small, hand-carved pendants of lions, snakes, eagles, and badgers, topped with a golden five-pointed star. "Alan?" Sirius called out tentatively.
Alan emerged from the kitchen, his dark hair falling past his ears and an apron tied over his clothes. He was carrying a large platter of roasted lamb chops. He placed the meat on the pristine dining table and looked at Sirius. "Ah, you're back. Good news—your oven still works, and quite well, too."
Sirius clutched his head, looking around in disbelief. "What... what did you do? I was only gone for a few hours, and the place has been transformed! And what is this tree?"
Alan looked at him with slight puzzlement. "I saw the house was a bit neglected, so I tidied it up. As for the tree, a man was selling them near the supermarket. I thought your holiday was lacking atmosphere, so I bought one. I transfigured the decorations myself. My craftsmanship is decent, isn't it?"
Sirius looked as if he were still dreaming. "You call this 'just tidied it up'? You've practically redecorated the entire building!"
"Are you going to eat or not?" Alan asked, untying his apron and taking a seat.
"Eat!" Sirius replied fiercely, dropping the pizza box on the counter.
"This is incredible," Sirius admitted a moment later, stuffing a lamb chop into his mouth. "But I have to ask—how did you do this?"
"It's simple. You crush pistachios into crumbs, pan-fry the chops with butter and rosemary until golden, coat them in the nuts, and finish them in the oven. I roasted these medium-rare. If you prefer them rarer—"