The day before term began, London finally saw clear skies at the end of August, and a rare patch of clean sunlight shone through the window of 12 Grimmauld Place.
Usually, at this time of day, Regulus would either be reading in his room or staying in the underground practice room. He rarely came to this study.
Today, he did. He pushed the door open without a greeting, walked over to the chair opposite the desk, and sat straight down.
Behind the desk, Orion did not even raise his eyes. Quill in hand, he was signing an approval document from the Ministry of Magic Commercial Registration Department.
The operating permit for the new Resonance Disk contract manufacturing shop in Diagon Alley had spent three months working its way through the process. At last, it had reached the signing and sealing stage.
The Black family's industries received approval from the Black family itself. A closed business loop, with no need to trouble anyone else.
Kreacher appeared with a pop, carrying a silver tray with a cup of Sri Lankan black tea on it. He floated the cup over to Regulus, bowed deeply, and disappeared with another pop.
Regulus picked up the cup and took a sip, leisurely watching his father work. His gaze drifted from Orion's quill tip to the pile of documents on the desk, then from the documents to the patch of sunlight coming through the window.
Seven or eight minutes passed before Orion realized the boy was even more at ease than he was, sitting with his legs crossed and drinking tea, his eyes on something unknown outside the window.
He set down his quill, folded the approval document and put it aside, then took a Black family seal from the drawer beside him and pressed it into