XXXXXXX

Chapter Four: Essences and New Years

XXXXXXX

Ginny found an empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express and stashed her trunk just before the train lurched away. She watched the passing countryside, alone, and for the first time it hit her that her old friends – Neville, Ron, Hermione… Harry – weren't there. Well, Harry would be there, but she wouldn't be able to rekindle her friendship – relationship – with him. She figured there probably weren't actual rules against professor-student relationships, but she also figured the situation hadn't come up before. After all, it wasn't as though any student was fighting for extra attention from McGonagall or Flitwick.

The compartment door slid open a moment later. Ginny looked up and found a sixth-year Slytherin smiling awkwardly at her.

'Hi. Mind if I sit in here?'

Ginny shook her head. 'No, not at all.' She had to fake the enthusiasm in her voice, but not the sentiment. She didn't mind Rebecca. In fact, she'd rather grown to respect the girl for coming and helping them defeat Voldemort – whether or not it was in Rebecca's best interest.

'Thanks. Usually I sit with the other girls from my house in my year, but…'

'I know.'

Ever since word had gotten out somehow that Rebecca wasn't a pure-blood, the rest of Slytherin house had all sided against her. No one spoke to her unless somehow forced, and no one ever partnered up with her in any lessons. At the end of last term, Ginny sat with her in the library while Rebecca studied for OWLs and even walked around Hogsmeade with her during the last visit.

'How was your summer?' asked Rebecca.

'It was all right,' replied Ginny. 'I spent the last month with George and then with Charlie – my brothers.'

'Aye, sounds like fun, yeah?'

Ginny nodded.

'What about your other brother, the one that was in the safe house with us?'

'Ron? He's fine. He's a member of the English National Quidditch Team.'

Rebecca looked impressed. 'Wow. I thought he wanted to be an Auror, though, with Harry?'

'Neither of them made it into the program.'

Now Rebecca looked shocked. 'What? That doesn't make any sense.'

'I know.'

'Well, what's Harry doing, then?'

Ginny shifted in her seat. 'He's the new Defence professor.'

To this, Rebecca had no reply.

'We're just friends, now,' continued Ginny. 'I suppose it's for the best. What about Draco? He ever decide to remove his head from his arse?'

Rebecca smiled and shrugged. 'He's written. Short letters, but it's progress.'

'Is he living at his house?'

'Yeah, and the Order set up wards and things around the house – y'know, because not all of the Death Eaters have been caught yet. Draco's still… fearful for his life.' Rebecca sniggered. 'Although, you would never get him to admit to that.'

'He's such a boy.'

Smiling, Rebecca nodded. 'Yeah. But I like him that way. Anyway, back to Harry being the new Defence teacher. Who thought that was a good idea?'

'McGonagall must've. She's the Headmistress, after all. Right barmy idea, that. I don't know how he's going to be able to grade papers and things objectively – what with being friends with so many of us when he was a student?'

'My thoughts exactly. Still, wasn't he good at leading the DA?'

Ginny nodded. 'He taught all of us really well, actually. Everyone learned a lot, and even Neville improved.'

'Neville? He's the boy who always melted his cauldrons in Potions, isn't he?'

Ginny giggled. 'That's Neville all right.'

'Professor Snape always complained about him. Rather amusing, really.'

The food trolley came by just then and Ginny and Rebecca bought sweets to fill themselves up before the feast later that night at Hogwarts.

XXXXXXX

The Quidditch tent was empty, save Ron. He took his shower, letting the water wash away the sweat from his body, and slowly got dressed, a thousand thoughts running through his head. Practises usually began with warm-up laps around the pitch on their brooms. Then, they all got in a circle and threw the Quaffle back and forth. After that, Ron had to protect the goals.

Today's practise was especially gruelling. It was Sunday – not a normal day of practise, but the Captain called for it – and Ron had his first 'Fire Drill'. It was taken from a Muggle technique used in football or hockey or lacrosse; Ron knew there was a reason he thought Muggles were barmy, and this was one of them.

The entire Reserve team flew a few metres away from Ron, each with a Quaffle in his or her hands, and at the same time, they all tried to chuck the balls through the goals. Each time Ron caught one of the Quaffles, he had to throw it back into the mix of other Reserve players. After twenty-five minutes of this utter madness, the Captain finally called a halt. Ron had caught most of the Quaffles, to his surprise.

Now, achy and tired, Ron pulled on an old Christmas jumper from his mum. Snapping his bag shut, he tossed his practise robes into his locker and shut it.

'Nice practise.'

Ron turned. 'Thanks,' he said to Nathan MacDonald, the Reserve Captain.

'You're much better than you give yourself credit for.'

Ron felt the tips of his ears turn red. 'Er, thanks.'

'I know all about the players at Hogwarts, y'know. My sister keeps me updated.'

'Who's your sister?'

'Natalie MacDonald,' Nathan replied. 'She's a fifth-year. I was at a quite of few of the games in your sixth year. I was right impressed, to tell you the truth.'

'Thanks.' Ron's ears were on fire.

'Right,' said Nathan, digging into his pocket and producing a white envelope. 'Here.'

'What's this?' asked Ron, taking the envelope.

'Your pay check.'

Ron's eyes went wide. He'd completely forgotten that he was getting paid for playing Quidditch. This was… wow. 'Thanks.'

'Stop saying that,' said Nathan with a laugh. 'Anyway, it's a small check in comparison to what you'd get if you were on the Official team instead of the Reserves. Still, I'd keep on top of things – keep in shape. You need to make sure you stay in top physical form. Marcus Hooper is beginning to look a bit tired, yeah? Rumours from the other Captain are that he's past his prime. He's almost forty, which is quite old for a Keeper these days. Keep your fingers crossed, mate, yeah? Your day on the regular team could come up sooner than expected.'

Ron swallowed against a lump in his throat. 'Right.'

'Oh, and we're taking you with us when we go to Ireland and Scotland next week.'

'What?'

'Pack your bags, we leave Thursday. It's jut for a week and a half. We're only taking the… better players, if you will, from the Reserve team with us, and the manager and I have talked it over, and you're one of the ones we're taking. Anyway, cheers.' Nathan left the tent, leaving a wide-eyed Ron in his wake.

XXXXXXX

Ron knocked on the door to the twins' flat in London. Before he would have just Apparated in, but now that Angelina was living there, Ron was afraid of walking in on something untoward. Shifting from one foot to the other, Ron waited impatiently for the door to open. When it finally did, he found himself staring face to face with a very tired-looking Angelina, her usually plaited hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail.

'Your brothers are both at the shop,' she said.

'Er, actually… I wanted to talk to you,' replied Ron, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

'Me? Why?'

'Why not?'

Angelina narrowed her eyes, but stepped away from the door so Ron could enter the flat. 'Your ears are red.'

'I know,' grumbled Ron.

Angelina flopped down on the couch, bringing her knees up against her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Resting her chin on her right knee, she raised her eyebrows at Ron.

He sat down at the other end of the sofa and sighed. 'Ginny left for school today.'

'Ah, I guess it is the first, isn't it?'

'Yeah. So I can't exactly ask her about this.'

'Right. About what?'

Ron swallowed. He didn't know why he should feel so nervous. Well, yes he did. He was about to ask Angelina a very heavy question.

'Ron. I've known you since you were a titchy first-year. You can talk to me. I'm family now, I suppose, as well.'

With a nod, Ron wet his lips and spoke. 'I just got my first pay check for Quidditch and I got a Gringotts account. And it's more money than I know what to do with, really, and my Captain told me that there's a good chance I could be put on the regular team sometime soon, which means more money. And, well, what do I know about money, yeah?'

Angelina nodded. 'Right. What's your question?'

'Now that money's not really an… obstacle… I want to buy…'

A smile spread across Angelina's face. 'Buy what? Something for Hermione, I'm guessing? Which is why you're asking me – because I'm a girl?'

'Something like that,' mumbled Ron. 'It's just that her birthday is in a couple of weeks and I wanted to get something before then. I know what I want to buy, but I'm rubbish when it comes to gifts and things.'

'All right, then. I'll be happy to help out. What did you have in mind? Hopefully not a book!'

Ron shook his head. 'No, no, nothing like that…'

'Jewellery, then?'

Ron blushed.

'Oh my god,' said Angelina, 'are you thinking of getting her a ring?'

Ron's entire face resembled a very ripe tomato. 'Something like that,' he mumbled again.

'Well, I don't know Hermione very well,' said Angelina. 'But I can help you out, I'm sure. We can go to Diagon Alley sometime this week?'

Ron nodded. 'Yeah. Thanks.' His shoulders suddenly felt less heavy. 'Is it hard?'

'Is what hard?'

'Being married?'

'That's a silly question,' replied Angelina. 'Didn't you live with Hermione last year at Lupin's house? Certainly you know what it's like to live with her.'

'Yeah, but that was different. We were there for a purpose and half the time I didn't even see Hermione because she was looking up spells and potions and things to help Harry fight You-Know-Who. Plus, she had her own bedroom to go to, and there were other people in the house. Besides, that wasn't forever. This would be until one of us dies and Hermione is too stubborn to do that first so I'd be stuck with her.' Ron said it sardonically, and noted Angelina's smile.

'Very true, but you're stubborn as well.' She swallowed and looked thoughtful. 'The thing about being married to Fred is that I have to understand his bond with George. That's why I'm here, really. I don't want to live here. In fact, I hate it, but don't tell either of them that. Their relationship was getting really rocky because George thought Fred was abandoning him and all this rot. So, I compromised and said we could live here with cheaper rent so we could save up money to buy a house one day.

'But it's not just the saved rent,' continued Angelina, 'it's also how I stay clear of Fred and George's "inventing" time. It's hard, but I do it because I know it's what Fred needs. But he does a lot of things for me I know he doesn't want to do.'

'Like what?'

'Like… I'm a morning person. I wake up around sunrise, even on the weekends. Fred sleeps late, but he'll wake up at dawn, make me coffee and wait for the owl with the Daily Prophet, then bring them to me. He'll go back to sleep, of course, but it's the thought that matters.'

'Right.'

'Look, the point is, we've been married for over a month, and already it isn't easy, but it's not hard, either. We make it work because we want to. We have to compromise and do things we don't want to do, but in the end it's worth it.'

'Right,' Ron said again.

'And if you and Hermione were going to break-up, you would've done it about a thousand rows ago. You two'll be fine.'

'I guess I just need reassurance, really. I mean, she's right mental, that one, isn't she? I suppose that makes me mental as well.'

Angelina shrugged. 'Do you want to get married now?'

'Well, not today, but I don't really see the point in putting it off. Mum and Dad were young, and you and Fred were young – are young. And, like my dad said, when you know, you know. And I just know Hermione is right.'

Angelina smiled. 'Well, Ron, I think I'd love to help you pick something out for her. Let's go tomorrow. You've got me excited about this as well, now.'

'Cool. Just, uh, do me a favour?'

'What's that?'

'Don't tell Fred – or George. They've taken the mickey outta me enough times in the last eighteen years. I don't want it to be taken out on me again for this.'

XXXXXXX

'So your boyfriend's the new Defence teacher.'

Ginny looked up from her book. She was curled up on the sofa in front of the fireplace in the common room, having sufficiently stuffed herself at the feast a few hours before.

'Shut up, Vicky,' snapped Ginny. 'He's not my boyfriend.'

Dark-haired Victoria Frobisher smiled. 'He was last year.'

'Well, he's not this year.'

'Why not?'

Ginny blinked. Why not? 'That's none of your business.'

Vicky's smile widened.

'Oh, fine! He's a professor. We can't date. McGonagall said so. Plus, he's Head of Gryffindor now that McGonagall's the Headmistress. Those are two big reasons we can't date. We weren't right for each other anyway.'

Vicky snorted. 'Right.'

'Why don't you just shut up and leave her alone?' barked a voice from behind Ginny. She turned to see Colin, his eyes narrowing at Vicky. 'I don't see you dating anyone.'

Vicky rolled her eyes, but turned around and left.

'Thanks,' Ginny said to Colin quietly.

'No problem.' He sat down next to her on the sofa. 'Stebbins asked me about you tonight after the feast.'

Ginny arched an eyebrow. 'Oh? What'd he say?'

'He wanted to know if you were still with Harry. Then, he wanted to know if you liked Hufflepuffs since he's in Hufflepuff.'

'What'd you tell him?'

'I told him that you owled me over the summer and so I knew you weren't with Harry, but I don't know anything about your interests otherwise.'

Ginny nodded. That was a good response. Did she even have other interests? No. But that didn't mean she couldn't.

'You can tell Stebbins that Hufflepuff is a fine house, but I need more than that to impress me.'

Colin seemed to be struggling against a smile. 'Right. I can tell him that, sure.'

'Right. Thanks.'

'He's fancied you on and off for a while, y'know. But first you were with Michael, and when you broke up with Michael, Stebbins was with Lisa Turpin, and then they broke up, but you were with Dean, then immediately with Harry. Now, you're both single at the same time so he wants to jump on that chance.'

'Really?'

Colin nodded. 'Although, I wasn't supposed to actually tell you all that. I was just supposed to find out whether or not you were with anyone else, and stuff like that. But I'm not very good at subtlety.'

'That's all right. I won't tell him.' Ginny closed her book. 'I'm going up to bed. I'll see you at breakfast.'

Ginny gave Colin a smile before retreating up the stairs to the seventh-year girls' dormitory. She changed into her pyjamas and climbed into bed, pulling the curtains shut. She lay on her back, staring blankly above her.

Stebbins… She didn't even know his first name. Everyone called him Stebbins. He was a seventh-year Hufflepuff… blonde hair… brown eyes… tall… much too tall for her, really. Ginny smiled. First day and already someone was asking about her, already someone was interested in her. Stebbins wasn't brilliant looking, but he was cute, and he was really muscular. But that was because he was Muggle-born and went to the gym – or at least, that's what Ginny had heard, even though she wasn't exactly sure what a 'gym' was or why it would make your arms expand to twice their size over a single summer.

Sighing, Ginny turned on her side. It was definitely going to be an interesting new year. She closed her eyes and tried to force herself to think about Stebbins, but an annoying imagine of a boy with glasses hiding vivid green eyes kept invading her thoughts.

XXXXXXX

Hermione rubbed her eyes the following Tuesday night. With umpteen books surrounding her, she was beginning to get a headache. She needed to go to bed. Stacking the books carefully, she levitated them from the kitchen, up the stairs, and into her bedroom. She sat them all on the floor next to her desk. Her eyes strayed to her desktop. Sitting there, on top of all her other pieces of parchment, was an application. Not for another job or anything, but for a flat. A very exclusive flat.

The building was in the heart of Muggle London, where Hermione shopped with her mother for clothes, books, and toys when she was little. The building was maintained by an old, saucy witch, who only leased out the flats to witches and wizards. She didn't want anyone too messy, too old, too loud, or too nosy. All of her tenants had to be young, with decent jobs, and had to pay their rent and mind their own business.

'If you're going to be noisy, you best put up a good Silencing Charm!' she had told Hermione.

Now, Hermione looked at the application. She felt as though she needed to move out of The Burrow. She felt guilty living there, eating the Weasleys' food, drinking their pumpkin juice and Butterbeer, and never paying a single Sickle for any of it. Plus, after living there all of July and August, Hermione felt even guiltier knowing what she and Ron did, late at night. Granted, it had only been a rare few times, but she knew she'd feel a lot better if Mrs Weasley never found out she was having sex with her son under The Burrow's roof.

Hermione jumped at the sound of a knock at her door. She opened it up, knowing Ron was going to be on the other side. Ron… She hadn't told him yet about wanting to move, even though she was planning on giving the application to that old witch the very next day.

'Hi. I'm tired, not tonight.'

Ron's ears turned red. 'No, that's not why I'm here. Besides, my parents are still up!'

'Oh. What's up, then?'

Ron shifted his weight to his other foot, shoving his hands into his pockets – he'd been doing that a lot the past couple of days, Hermione noted. She wondered what was so fascinating in his pockets. Probably lots of lint, if she knew Ron.

'My Captain and the Captain of the regular team are taking me with them when the team goes and plays Ireland and Scotland this weekend and next week. I'll be gone for a week and a half and I'm leaving on Thursday.'

'All right. Is that all?'

Ron nodded. 'They told me on Sunday.'

'Why'd it take you three days to tell me, then?'

Ron shrugged. 'I didn't want to jinx it, I suppose. I'm still in shock. They're telling me that I might be bumped up to the National Team… not just the National Reserve Team.'

Hermione broke out into a wide smile. 'Why, that's fantastic! Isn't it?' Her smiled faded into a frown. 'Why do you look so upset?'

'I dunno. I'm just worried that if I play for the real team that it'll be like fifth year all over again.'

'Oh, stop. You haven't played like that since the last game fifth year. You'll be brilliant, I know you will. I just wish I could go and watch you.'

'Well, I probably won't be playing these two games.'

'Does the Reserve team normally stay in England while the National team goes all over the world for matches?'

Ron nodded. 'If a Chaser falls and can't finish the game, the team plays one player down. But I'm going to… observe how a "real" game is played.'

'Well, you'll do great. I know you will.'

'Yeah. I'll be glad to get home and see you, though. I've seen you every single day for over a year.'

Hermione smiled awkwardly. 'Well, you'll see me, but I don't think I'll be at The Burrow.'

'What? Why not?'

'Er, because I've decided it's time I move out and get my own flat. I can't live here for free forever.'

'Who are you going to live with?'

'No one. Just myself.'

Ron frowned. 'But there's Death Eaters still out there.'

'I have a wand. I was Head Girl. I can defend myself.'

'I know, but…'

Hermione sensed what Ron was thinking. 'You can't live with me.'

Ron's frown deepened. 'Why not?'

'Because! Your mother would have a fit. Absolutely not. No.'

'Ah, come on—'

'I said no,' stated Hermione firmly. 'I don't want to live with anyone until I'm married, and that's that.'

'But it's not like we've never done anything that's not supposed to be reserved for marriage.'

'Just because we've slept together doesn't mean we can live together. Ron, look, I love you – I tell you that a lot, I know – but I need my flat to be mine… alone. That doesn't mean you can't come over, though.'

'When are you moving?'

'Well, I'm giving my application tomorrow, and I expect to move in sometime next week. It'll be good for me. I can work on my research without an interruptions and I won't have to worry about your mum walking in on us.'

'We hardly do that as it is.'

'Well, I'm sure we can do it more when your parents aren't two floors below.'

Ron smiled. 'Yeah?'

'Sometimes.'

'Only sometimes?'

'If you're good.'

'I can be good.'

Hermione smiled and gave Ron a small hug.

'I just don't like the idea of you being far away.'

'It's London. It's not that far away. You can Apparate there.'

Ron shrugged. 'I know, but I lost Harry… and Ginny's at school…'

'You're not going to lose me, Ron. Never.'

'Well, I worry because you're at the Ministry and I've heard the rumours about what's going on there. That people've gone missing.'

Hermione nodded. It was true. She and Mr Weasley had lunch several times each week and often discussed who went missing and who was sacked – the number of personnel kept rising. No one from the Department of Mysteries had gone yet, so Hermione felt a bit better about working at the Ministry, but that didn't mean she still wasn't nervous every time she walked into another Department and found an empty desk. Things were amiss… everyone knew that. Of course, Hermione vowed that once she was finished with her research she was going to start looking into why people were disappearing and why no one seemed to be doing anything about it, especially the Minister of Magic. If anyone should be questioning the disappearances of Ministry personnel, it should be the Minister.

'I'm sure I'll be fine,' replied Hermione. 'Don't worry so much. Nothing's going to happen to me.'

Hermione wasn't positive, but she was fairly sure that as Ron kissed her good-night and left, he didn't look entirely convinced.

XXXXXXX

Mulciber had once again called Hermione into his office. She sat in the chair across from his desk and waited for him to initiate the conversation. She had just finished her research – able to do a lot of it at The Burrow since Ron had been gone for a couple of days and not around to interrupt her.

'Wonder why I called you in here again?'

'Yes.'

'You finished your research.'

Hermione nodded. 'Just now. Just today.'

'Well, tell me!'

'Sir, I have the feeling that you already know what I've found.'

Mulciber nodded. 'I do. Well, I sort of do. One of the Seers told me, but I needed someone else to research what they Saw. Make sense? Yes, so while I believe my Seers, they don't always See everything. They See portions of things, and I need the whole story, the whole shebang, if you get what I mean.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Stop with this "sir" nonsense, what have I told you. I was named after the inventor of the Dungbomb, for Merlin's sake. I am no "sir".'

'You're still my boss, even if you are a bit unconventional.'

'Nice word. I've never heard that one before. Still… Go on, tell me. What'd you find?'

Hermione sighed. 'I've found that taking a man's soul and taking his essence are two entirely different things.'

'Go on.'

'In the potion I made, I killed Voldemort's soul. I destroyed it so that he wouldn't be able to invade another body and regain power. He's gone and he can't come back. Unfortunately, I didn't research thoroughly enough. If I had, I would have found that when a soul leaves a body it etches pieces of itself… it… oh, how can I explain this? Everyone has an essence, be it good or bad. I'd like to think of myself as having a good essence. When I die, my body will go and my soul will go. When my soul leaves, part of the goodness in it will fill someone up… it will enter someone and they will be just a bit more good themselves, because of my essence. If I was evil, though, then that person would be more, well, bad.'

'Who is "that person"?'

'Is this the part that the Seer didn't tell you?'

Mulciber nodded. 'Like I said, they don't Know or See everything.'

'Well, at first I thought that it meant whoever was closest to the dying person would get part of their essence, but when I researched further, I found that it's really whoever is closest and most susceptible. Harry was closest to Voldemort when he died, but Harry's good so Voldemort's essence wouldn't have entered him. It would have entered whoever was easily influenced by evil.'

'Do you know who that is?'

'Well, no.'

Mulciber narrowed his eyes. 'Are you sure?'

'No.'

Mulciber laughed. 'That's what I thought. Tell me this, Granger, how evil was Voldemort's essence?'

Hermione blanched. 'If his essence entered one of his Death Eaters… then I suspect they'll turn into someone just as evil and just as terrible as Voldemort himself was. Only, no one is expecting anything because no one knows what I just told you. Whoever got his essence should be feared and should be brought down before they have a chance to rise into power.'

'That's what I was afraid of.' Mulciber rubbed his eyes. 'This isn't good. No, not at all. What should we do? Find out who has the essence. Tell me who you think it is. I know you have a theory. You're too thorough not to have a theory.'

'If I was truly thorough none of this would be happening. It's my fault that there's someone out there with the potential to be evil like Voldemort—'

'I don't like self-pity. It's unbecoming. You're brilliant. Everyone knows you're brilliant. Shut it, and tell me who you think it is!'

'I think that it's odd there are so many people from the Ministry gone missing and no one talks about it.'

'Forty-two.'

'What?'

'There are forty-two workers gone missing. Keep talking, Hermione.'

'Oh, right. Er, well, anyone who does talk about it is sacked. Forty-two is quite a lot of missing personnel, if you ask me. And I wonder if McDougal isn't behind it. Because one would think that if forty-two Ministry personnel went missing that the Minister of Magic would want some answers, but he seems to be sitting idle, doing nothing about it. Plus, I've heard rumours that he's a former Death Eater.'

'But was he there when Voldemort went down? I thought that the Order of the Phoenix caught all of the Death Eaters that were at the house?'

Hermione shrugged. 'Are we certain? Do we know they were all caught? There were several Death Eaters that weren't at the house, so there's no way to know if we got all the ones at Malfoy Mansion. All we can do is assume.'

Mulciber sat back in his chair, tapping the tips of his fingers against the arms. 'I think you're right,' he said with a sigh. 'I've been thinking this myself for quite a while, actually. Something is definitely not right with the Minister. Did you know I've never actually seen him? Makes himself sparse, that one. It worries me, y'know. Do you know Occlumency?'

'What? Why?'

'Because now that you have this information I think you could be in danger. You need to make sure no one can read your mind, or your thoughts. You have to be careful. What I need you to do now is try to find out how to get rid of Voldemort's essence.'

'I already looked—'

'Look harder. And meanwhile, try to find out everything you can about the Killing Curse and how to deflect it.'

'You can't.'

'You can. I have no idea how, of course,' said Mulciber bitterly, 'and nor do my Seers. They Know it can be deflected.' Mulciber rolled his eyes. 'This is why I don't like Seers. What's the point of Knowing if you don't Know everything?' He sighed. 'Still. Anyway, have a good weekend, yeah? Come in on Monday ready to work!'

Hermione nodded. 'Of course.' She stood up and left his office. As she Apparated back to The Burrow, Hermione couldn't help but think that forty-two people were missing because she thought herself too brilliant to research thoroughly. If only she'd opened a few more books and found out about essences, then there wouldn't be a Death Eater just waiting to become the next Voldemort. Why was she so stupid? Why couldn't she have been more thorough?

This was all her fault.

XXXXXXX

To Be Continued…

XXXXXXX