Maeve Delacroix: Check the files around your office. If you look closely, you'll realize one is gone. If you don't bring الموت' والدمار' from the restricted section to the Great Hall by dawn, it'll be all over school tomorrow.
Maeve shook her head, at a loss for words. This had to be some kind of cruel joke.
She sifted through her files, heart pounding as she pondered the extent of the theft. They’d been guarded so closely, protected with everything she had. Surely that was enough, wasn’t it?
With horror in her eyes, she realized which folder was missing; the file on Amy Adams. It was personal, the most personal thing she had, and it would render her vulnerable to anyone with knowledge of her fragile thoughts. So with trembling hands and a watering heart, she left her morals to do the deed. Tonight. She’d steal it tonight.
