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CHAPTER 77

|THE FIREBOLT|

The scene faded away from the kitchen and moved to the front door from inside the house

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The scene faded away from the kitchen and moved to the front door from inside the house. The door opened and Cathy was seen coming inside with snow in her hair and coat. After she took off her coat and shook the snow out of her hair, Cathy walked into her home.

The clock on the wall showed that it was almost midnight. Cathy walked into the kitchen where she found Walburga sitting down at the table with a cup of tea in front of her.

Kreacher was seen placing a new tea pot in front of the witch. "Is there anything else mistress?"

"That'll be all, Kreacher, thank you." Walburga said.

The house-elf departed and gave Cathy a small nod as she walked past him toward the kitchen.

"Visited your families graves?" Walburga questioned.

Cathy looked at her parents with a sad expression and briefly looked to her brother before turning back to the screen.

"As morbid as it may seem, I always see them on Christmas." Cathy pulled up a chair and sat next to her mother-in-law. "Didn't change when they were alive, it won't change now."

Fleamont and Euphemia looked touched by the fact that their daughter always visited their graves and kept the tradition of seeing them in Christmas even long after they've passed.

"I wasn't being critical." Walburga said. "If anything, this is the time when all family should be together. Tea?"

"I won't stay long." Cathy shook her head.

Walburga looked into her cup and cleared her throat. "About earlier, before dinner, when Ryan gave you that reading."

"Yeah." Cathy laughed. "Turned out your grandmother might have been right. Ryan might have a certain advantage to the divine arts compared to your average wizard. Then again, he isn't exactly your average wizard to begin with."

"He definitely has an unfair advantage when it comes to magic." Remus chuckled.

Walburga didn't respond. Instead, she seemed to stare at Cathy with a look of guilt and discomfort. Cathy reacted in a sore manner to the look.

"What is it?" she asked.

Walburga shifted in her seat and cleared her throat.

"Cathy," she began, "all this fuss that's happening because of Sirius has made me realize that I never apologized to you."

"What about?"

"My son helped murder your brother." Walburga clarified. "He helped the Dark Lord—"

"That wasn't your fault." Cathy interrupted her. "You have no reason to apologize for him."

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