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chapter thirteen
"TO KILL A SALVATORE"
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The first of November saw the Great Hall becoming a great mess of discussions, carelessly conversing about the murder of Rupert Salvatore by Augustus Monarda. Words of both the Monardas ("One of the big ones over in France — I heard their house there has been vandalised since they announced he's off to Azkaban...") and the Salvatores ("No, they're one of the big ones in Colombia — the dead one used to help out Grindelwald...") were dancing around the stone-walled room in different octaves and accents.
On the Gryffindor table, a small group were speaking of it. The girl with her brown hair in two plaits, tied with violet ribbons, said, "The newspaper says Salvatore had been missing for two weeks..."
Further down and across the room, a Ravenclaw boy chomping on a slice of toast was nodding to his friends. One looked interested, the other did not. "Yeah, so," he said, "Salvatore was back in the UK, apparently to get back into the swing of things. Probably to join Voldemort. He helped out Grindelwald, didn't he?"
His friend, the uninterested one, stopped twirling her ginger hair around her index finger to mutter back, "He gave him advice and a hotel room to hide from the American wizards. That's all."
"But it was enough to get him killed!" said a boy to his friends. Their little group wore green ties still a little too big for their first-year selves. But, like any first-year would, the school had a serious bombing of gossip, and of course, the first-years were excited to be there when it happened. "Apparently, Monarda's dad tried to hunt down Grindelwald. It was a whole thing."
"I heard it's because Monarda's dad, right, got killed trying to stop Grindelwald, and Monarda took his revenge on Grindelwald's old ally," said a girl in Hufflepuff. She was in her final year of the school, and she shared a room with the granddaughter of the Salvatore murdered, just like the rest of their little group speaking.
One of her friends, the one hiding a black eye with makeup, smiled. "Now, the real question is — how'd you think Emilia Salvatore and Dinah Monarda are going to treat each other? Considering Monarda's father killed Salvatore's grandfather."
The answer to this was simple, and it began like this.
One of the girls in question — the granddaughter of the man murdered, the one with blue hair and a frown on her face — joined her group of friends before they sat down at the table decorated in green. The other girl — purple hair, defeated expression — was walking in-between a girl with an afro, and another with straight brown hair.
