A/N: This story was written as an entry for The Houses Competition, Year 3, Round 9.
House: Gryffindor
Year: Head Girl
Category: Standard
Prompt: 8. [Word] Sorrowful
Word count: 1488 words (written on Google docs)
Betas: Thank you to CK (Theoretical-Optimist) and Jo (H.R.E.R) for beta'ing! Xx
Additional A/N:
This is slightly AU in that it's my take on what Myrtle's life was like at Hogwarts and what may have really happened (I have a few headcanons for this haha). I may be exploring the concept of Myrtle not being able to properly interact with her parents in another story (if time allowed, I'd probably consider re-writing it now), but my heart ached for her when I read about Muggles and ghosts. In grand Tigger tradition, I also had a lot of trouble deciding on this story as my original ideas went from thalidomide babies to Blaise's grandmother comparing her son's marriage to Blaise's mother like an Ashwinder (born from ashes, sole mission to lay eggs within an hour before becoming ashes once more...). I'm hoping I made the right choice :')
I'm one of those people who get annoyed that people think they 'own sadness' (for example, if they're upset and think that only they can feel that emotion and no one else can be upset about smaller things, or worse, when people justify bullying). One that came to mind was when I see people comment 'Don't cry because you don't have a date on Valentine's Day; people don't have mothers/fathers on Mother's/Father's Day,' to others on Facebook. Like honestly, doesn't mean people can't still be upset.
With one more round to go after this, I do hope you like this (and don't realise that I'm running out of plots :') Shhh). X
True Sorrow
If there was one word to describe Myrtle's life, it was sorrowful. Yet only one person seemed to agree.
"Alright, darling, just give me a moment. I'll go make sure your trunk's loaded correctly."
Myrtle simply nodded as her mother scurried off, tears welling in her eyes. She should've been happy to be going off to her second year, but all she could think about was the latest injustice brought to her.
"It's not even the first day back and you're already moping? Typical!" a voice said behind her.
She turned to glare at Olive. She'd been hoping that her fellow Ravenclaw wouldn't be returning that year; the brunette was always very rude to her. Even now she turned to another of their dorm-mates, Katrina Edgecombe, and rolled her eyes.
"I'll have you know that I have every reason to be upset," Myrtle said, wiping her eyes and straightening her back.
"Oh? Did you finally see yourself in the mirror?" Olive asked.
"My father couldn't come to see me off today because his work needed him."
More tears filled her eyes and began to fog her glasses. She'd been able to give her father a kiss that morning, but she'd hoped to have seen him wave her off. It just wasn't the same without him there; it didn't feel as special.
She allowed the sobs to take over and waited for the girls to envelope her in a hug.
"Don't cry, Myrtle," Olive said, her tone anything but sympathetic. "No, really, don't cry. It's pretty selfish of you to worry over something like that, or have you forgotten that Katrina doesn't even have a father anymore?"
Olive had her arm around Katrina's shoulder and was shaking her head. "You're lucky your father is busy working to earn your family money, but with your attitude, I suppose he needn't bother. Come on, let's get a good seat," she said.
Myrtle's lips trembled as they stalked towards the scarlet engine. She knew she was lucky to have her father; that didn't mean that it hurt any less to not have him there.
A hand squeezed her shoulder, and through blurry eyes, she saw her mother smiling down at her.
"Your father wishes he could be here," she said, pulling her in for a hug. " It's okay to miss him. We'll just have to make sure he's here after Christmas, won't we?"
With her mother's understanding, Myrtle felt part of her sorrow fade.
Everybody told her to stop being so sorrowful, except for that one special person.
"Merry Christmas, Myrtle," her mother said, placing a box in her lap.
Excitement rushed through her as she tore off the lid. When she pulled out a small silver locket, however, she felt the familiar stinging sensation in her eyes.
"Myrtle? Don't you like it?" her father asked.
Myrtle sniffed. "Thank you, it's very pretty."
She saw her parents share a look before her father nodded and left the room. Her mother moved closer on the sofa as Myrtle let the delicate chain slip back into the box.
She wasn't lying; the locket was indeed very pretty. She'd always wanted one like it, but now all she could see was the look of delight on Katrina's face as she'd opened the same gift from Neil Lament.
"Come now, tell me what this is all about," her mother said.
She sniffed again, not sure how she could tell her mother what her peers had done. She was the one who'd fancied the Slytherin hunk. She was the one who'd dreamt of him asking to court her. All her housemates knew that she liked Neil, but when she'd started crying at the news that he'd asked Katrina out—and she'd accepted—she'd been told she had no reason to be upset.
"Get over it, Myrtle. You hardly knew the boy," Olive had said.
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself. I bet you'll fancy someone else next week," Sue Swell had added.
The girls had continued giggling with Katrina, ignoring the girl's obvious betrayal, as Myrtle had fled to the bathroom.
Myrtle swiped at her eyes and decided to tell her mother. She'd probably be disappointed that she wasn't focusing on her studies, but at least she wouldn't think she was ungrateful for her gift.
When she finished, her mother rubbed circles over her back. "I don't think your friends are very nice at all; friends should always respect your feelings. That boy, too, isn't worth it if he can't see your value."
She allowed her to put the locket on her, once again feeling better about her sorrowful state.
Even when the worst things happened to her, Myrtle was told she didn't have a right to be upset.
Myrtle tore off another piece of toilet paper and held it to her eyes. It took barely three seconds for the paper to become soaked in her tears, but she didn't care if she used up the entire roll.
She was used to hearing the other girls ignoring her or complaining that she was 'too bossy.' She hadn't realised just how much they spoke about her, however, until she'd walked into the dormitory and overheard their conversation.
"If I had to wear those glasses, I'd kill myself," Olive had said.
"Doesn't she know that acne is not attractive?" Katrina had snickered. "Maybe we should ditch her at lunch."
It hadn't only been her appearance they'd spoken about; every single part of who she was had been picked apart. The laughing had only stopped when a sob had escaped her throat and the girls finally noticed her standing against the open door.
"Myrtle? Are you in here?"
She froze as the bathroom door creaked open and footsteps echoed off the tiles. No one from her house used the bathroom—mainly since Peeves liked to hang out in the second-floor corridor—and so she'd made it into her sanctuary.
"Come on, I can hear your sniffles," Sue said.
She sighed and opened the door. Her peer was standing at the mirrors fixing up her hair.
"I thought you'd still be sobbing," the girl said.
Myrtle frowned. "Of course I am! Imagine how you'd feel to hear everyone talking about you? It's horrible!" she said, unable to choke back the tears.
Rather than comforting her, the brunette sighed and turned around. "Honestly, Myrtle, they didn't say anything that wasn't true; maybe you should stop taking things to heart. Besides, you shouldn't have been listening to a private conversation."
She blinked, unable to believe that the girl was justifying their bullying. Sue simply shrugged, leaving Myrtle to rush back into the safety of her stall.
"And there you go again. Honestly, your life isn't that bad," Sue said as she left.
Myrtle moaned as she left the Hornby's house, sick of the way the Ministry workers ordered her about. She had only been trying to make her sorrowful existence as a ghost a little more bearable; if it meant finally getting justice by following her tormentor everywhere, was she really doing anything wrong?
She was supposed to go straight to Hogwarts—they really did want her to be miserable—but she needed comfort before she did. There was only one person who could provide it: her mother. Besides, she'd not seen her parents in the months she'd been too preoccupied with revenge, and she was sure they were missing her dearly.
"Mother, Father, you won't believe the things they've done to me," she said, floating through the fireplace.
The crackling flames turned blue as she went by, but she still felt cold. Neither of her parents looked up as she floated in front of the sofa, waving her hands about.
"Mother? Father? Hello?"
Her father turned the page of his book and her mother yawned widely.
"I think I'll head up to bed," her mother said, and her father nodded.
Myrtle felt a jolt of panic as they stood up. She reached forward to stop her mother from walking up the stairs, but her hand simply went through her. Her mother shivered but continued up the stairs.
"Mother? Can't you see me? I'm right here!" she said, her voice growing louder.
Neither her mother nor her father turned around. It was as though she didn't exist, even as her sobs echoed throughout the house and the lights flickered.
The flames of the fireplace roared at that moment, and she turned to see one of the Ministry workers step through.
"Ah, thought you might be here, Miss Warren. You've been ordered to go to Hogwarts, not a Muggle residence," he said, frowning.
"They can't see me," she whispered.
The man's eyes softened slightly. "Unlike witches and wizards, Muggle folk cannot see or hear ghosts."
Myrtle turned back to the staircase, more sobs choking her throat. She'd never be able to draw comfort from her mother again.
No one, not even Olive, could deny how sorrowful her life truly was now.