Another one-hundred word drabble looking in on a devastating moment in Mrs Figg’s life. Set in the mid-seventies.
“I’m very sorry, Arabella,” Dumbledore said softly.
A tuxedo tom with a squashed face jumped into her lap. Another ginger cat leapt up to the cushion beside her, placing her paws on her arm.
Arabella gazed at nothing. The moment felt unreal. Brother and husband, gone. “Where …”
“What we could find of them … St. Mungo’s. You’re next of kin for both. I can help you with any arrangements—”
“Where did it happen?”
“They’d been watching a shop in Knockturn Alley, but their remains were behind the Hog’s Head. I’ll understand if you don’t want to continue …”
“Now more than ever!”