Post-boxes, which should have been filled with cavity-inducing cards and well-wishes, were hushed amongst pamphlets alerting all of Argent to her disappearance. Where there should have been glittering, colorful, posters proclaiming good tidings across the city’s walls, there were dreadful black posters that bore the last photograph ever taken of her. Hundreds of pairs of eyes wandered over hers. They hesitated, as though needing a moment to collect themselves, and upon glossing over the information dotting shops decorated with wreaths, lights, spiralling ribbons, and plump bows that tied themselves, every witch and wizard dusted off their hands, lowered their heads, and silently thought to themselves – ‘What a crying shame.’ Then, they continued about their holiday business, pondering over many life-altering decisions such as whether cranberry sauce was really all that better than cranberry jelly.