COMPLETE; don't read if you want fluffy, out-of-character tom.
18+
In 1926, Grindelwald is captured for the first time by Newt Scamander, making his followers go into hiding. The Petrov family, an ancient pure-blood eastern European family, is forc...
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CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Varya held the new Daily Prophet newspaper with clasped hands, so much so that it started wrinkling at the edges, and she felt another piece of her soul break off. Elladora was in front of her, and the Eastern witch discerned it was her first time seeing Selwyn cry to the point where she could not breathe, and Icarus had to hold her in place as her whole body shook with agony.
Rosier had paled completely, and his fists held the cutlery tightly as he tried to make sense of what had just happened, whereas Malfoy was darting his eyes around the Great Hall to assess everyone's reactions. Nicholas Avery was, perhaps, the worst of all, and he stood up from his table and threw a plate of German sausages to the ground in anger.
"Avery, stop!" shouted Nott as he tried to get the boy to calm down, but he only trashed in his hold until Maxwell had to drag him out of the room and away from the prying eyes of the students.
Varya's eyes skimmed the headlines, again and again, hoping that the words would jumble together and form a different sentence and that the newspaper was merely wrong. It could not be true, no.
Lopheus Evergeen was dead.
The picture on the front page was a good one, and his American features flashed with the arrogance that he had always shown. His lips were pulled in a coy smile, and it seemed to have been taken at Ilvermory by the attire he was wearing. It had been his final year, and he would have graduated in a few months.
They had found his body in the hotel room he was staying at in Sweeden— a rusty old motel, at that, something far beneath his wealth. He was trying to slip around undetected and had been murdered during the night. No magic was involved, they said, and they suspected it had been a robbery.
Varya knew better than that, in any case. Lopheus was a rancorous wizard, and no muggle would be able to strike him and live to tell the story. Something did not fit, a missing puzzle had been lost between the sofa's pillows, and it irked her mind.
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