Marauder crack

London is the true celebration

Honey wine. White chocolate strawberries. Pork in oriental sauce.

Turkeys stuffed with candied fruit. There are so many and so varied delicacies in 12 Grimmauld Place that no one, not even journalists specializing in gastronomy that "Witch Weekly" has sent to document the event, remember ever occurring such a banquet. The tablecloths are embroidered with gold threads. The velvet curtains were woven by Chinese fairies. The second floor has been magically removed for the occasion and the lamps made with crystal and water nymph tears hang from invisible handholds to illuminate the noble and ancestral house of the Black, in all its splendor.

Walburga and Orion personally welcome the distinguished guests. Magicians and ambassadors, witches and ministers from all around the world.

Walburga smells like a perfume that they have made especially for her and she has brought it from the depths of Atlantis City. Queen in the living room like a magnetic presence and they all fight for a minute of attention from her. Not even the fact that Sirius chose to offend her by putting on some ragged muggle denim pants he gets to anger her in HER night. After all, even the prodigal son seems capable that night to show where she comes from.

Sirius approaches a group of women who say hello to Walburga to join the conversation.Lady Lorena Longfellows is the first to greet him. Sirius carries in his hand a glass of poppy extract with sugar rum, and on the face, a smile that seems full of adulation.

- How many years since I saw you last, Sirius. - Lady Longfellows let Sirius kiss her hand, savouring that moment when she receives all her attention. - You have such a handsome son, Walburga.

-Well, my eyes are a little together- says Sirius. - It's because dad and mom are cousins.

Walburga freezes at that very moment. Sirius keeps smiling as if he had no other intention than to have a good time.

-I understand you are in Gryffindor...- says Lady Longfellow trying to ignore his manners.Before Sirius answers, Walburga rushes to seize the conversation. She shoots her son a festering warning look that tastes like blood.

- So he is. I don't know if you know that this year they have won the House Cup, for the sixth time in a row. Sirius never loses Quidditch.

Walburga hates the notion that blood of her blood could be in Gryffindor, but she forgives him as long as Gryffindor wins. Because if there is something she hates more than miscegenation is losers. Sirius knows it. He has always known. So when he speaks to Mrs. Longfellow he tries not to lose sight of her mother, out of the corner of her eye.

- The credit is not mine, tough. But from that crying shitass, they have in Slytherin this year as a seeker. As it is called? - Pretend to search in his memory until he suddenly remembers. - Ah yes, Longfellow.

-He's my son- Lady Lorena mutters, without hiding her displeasure.

- Really? I would never have guessed, dressed like that I would never have figured you are, in fact, a whore.

- I beg your bloody pardon?!?!?!

-During matches, they yell at your son "Looser son of a bitch!!!", I guess that it was directed and referred to you.

- Sirius! Screams Walburga, white with anger.

- You don't have a good face, mommy, I'm going to bring you a digestive.

He leaves the astonished woman in a corner, her mother apologising on her behalf and Mrs. Longfellow possibly trying to cast a damaging and bloody spell at him, but at the same time appropriate for such an elevated environment.