Chapter 150: Voldemort's Gift
Dining room of 12 Grimmauld Place.
The air smelled of fried eggs and the grease of smoked bacon.
Orion sat at the head of the table, the Daily Prophet spread open in his hands, scanning a brief report on page three about new Ministry of Magic regulations for reviewing Dark artifacts.
Walburga sat opposite him, prodding the fried egg on her plate with a silver fork, dissatisfied.
"The yolk is overdone, Kreacher." Her voice carried too clearly in the cavernous dining room. "I said runny. Do you understand what runny means?"
From the fireplace end of the table, Sirius smacked his lips, loud and deliberate.
He'd sunk deep into a high-backed chair, wearing a black Muggle band T-shirt printed with a long-haired man screaming into a microphone. His plate sat untouched. The only thing moving was the tip of his fork, scraping back and forth along the rim of his porcelain plate in a persistent, piercing whine.
Regulus sat on the opposite side of the long table, as far from the fireplace as possible.
His plate was clean. The eggs and bacon were gone, with only half a slice of toast remaining. Hands resting on the table's edge, posture straight, gaze settled on the empty plate before him.