QLFC - Seeker - Appleby Arrows - Round 10 - We're giving some love to some minor characters this round. I'm not talking about regular humans, though. Instead, you will be writing about the folk whose souls are either captured in a magical portrait or wandering the wizarding world as a ghost. (Individual character assignments posted below).

You may write about your character in their human life if you wish, however, he or she must feature as their ghost or portrait self somewhere in your story. Likewise, your ghost or portrait doesn't have to be the main focus of your fic, but he or she must play an important role in the plot.

SEEKER: Myrtle Warren (Ghost)

Wordcount: 904

Myrtle Warren was still curled up in the bathroom stall, still crying after Olive Hornby had been teasing her about her glasses. What did Hornby find wrong with glasses, anyway? Surely, they were better than just bumping into everything everywhere she went. She couldn't help it if the frames were thick and bulky.

She also wasn't entirely sure what just happened. She'd heard a boy's voice, and shouted at him to go away, but everything after that was a blur.

Slowly, Myrtle uncurled herself and looked down. Of all things, there was a body on the ground. Had she killed the boy? She hoped she hadn't.

She got closer to the body to take a look at it, when—

"That's my body," Myrtle whispered, still staring at it. "I'm dead." Surely this was just a dream, because how would she be seeing this otherwise? Myrtle tried to pinch herself in the side to wake herself up, but her fingers passed straight through her body.

She was a ghost. Myrtle wanted to start crying again, but then a little girl—probably a second-year—walked into the bathroom.

The girl opened up the door to the stall and found Myrtle floating over her own dead body.

"SOMEBODY HELP ME! PLEASE!" the little girl shrieked out, sprinting out of the stall.

"I won't hurt you, I swear it, please don't go—"

It was too late. The girl had already run away.

By now, Myrtle had been a ghost for about three years. The visits from girls just wanting to be alone had grown less frequent, although they always ended in screaming girls running out while Myrtle begged them to stay.

However, the visits from people wanting to torture her increased.

One day, a group of boys entered Myrtle's bathroom. They were holding a bag of books, pencils, and other assorted items.

"Why are you here?" Myrtle asked them, although she was glad they hadn't run away yet. The boys ignored her and whispered among each other.

"Remember, it's one point if it goes through her ears or forehead. Three points if you can get it through her belly or eyes. And five points if you can get it through her nose," one of them said to the others in a louder voice.

Myrtle repeated her earlier question, but it fell on deaf ears again. She was confused as to why they were discussing points and body parts.

The answer became evident when one of the boys grabbed a pencil from the bag and threw it at Myrtle. It whizzed straight through her left eye. It didn't necessarily hurt, and only caused slight discomfort to Myrtle, but the boys cheered.

"That's three points for you. I'm up next," one of the boys stated.

They continued in this manner for what felt like hours, with the boys hurling everything they had in their bag at her and then whooping and cheering when somebody scored points.

Myrtle had tuned them out, finally, and was feeling rather hurt. She knew she wasn't exactly a friend of any student at Hogwarts who came into her bathroom, but this was just cruel treatment. Why did these boys who she barely knew hate her so much?"

She didn't even notice when they packed up the bag and left her all alone in the bathroom.

Myrtle couldn't remember how many years it had been since she had died, but she wished she hadn't come back as a ghost. By then, all of the girls knew not to use Myrtle's bathroom, but many students came back to play the throwing game with Myrtle. The teasing and throwing happened more and more often, and she just couldn't take it anymore.

Nowadays, all it took for Myrtle to burst out into loud sobs was a small provocation, and many students indulged on her tears when they came to tease her and throw even more things at her.

One day, the door started to open, and Myrtle could hear voices from the hallway.

"Oh, no, you don't want to go in there. That's where Moaning Myrtle lives."

"Who's Moaning Myrtle?"

"She's this weird ghost who haunts this bathroom. Everybody plays a game where you throw things at her, but you'll learn about that later. Anyway, she cries and moans so much it becomes annoying. She's just like a big baby, except she's dead."

The door closed again and the voices faded away. Myrtle lived up to her new nickname and started to moan and wail. Nobody who came into her bathroom was nice to her anymore. Why not some other Hogwarts ghost? She knew plenty of other ghosts were , maybe she occasionally flooded the bathroom with her tears, but there was no need to torment her this much!

There was nothing she could really do about it, though. Future generations of students wouldn't improve her treatment. They would probably worsen the torture, too. Myrtle was sentenced to hiding in the toilet in her bathroom stall and trying to forget about the world. It never worked, and she went back to where she had started every single time.

Every single day was the same, over and over again. Throwing, teasing, and then the inevitable crying. Over and over and over again. She supposed her nickname was deserved, though, from all the sobbing she did every day.

Moaning Myrtle would simply have to bear the pain of the day by crying.