This is for Rising From The Flames' challenge "The Four Houses Competition." My challenge for the Hufflepuff section was:
Characters: Myrtle
Genre: Family
Song: Forgotten - Avril lavigne
The song appears more in the strand of the story about Olive, than in the part about family. In case you are unfamiliar with the character Olive Hornby was presented as the girl who bullied Myrtle at school. She was the one to find her body, and Myrtle haunted her, going as far as going to her brother's wedding before Olive called the Ministry.

Disclaimer: I do not own Myrtle, Olive, or the world they exist in.

"Ma'am, I must ask you to leave, you were not invited to this wedding."

"Just give me a chance to talk to her! Please!"

"I'm sorry Ma'am, Ms. Hornby has made it quite plain that she does not want to talk to you. She asked that you be removed, but if you could please return to…" the pot-bellied, balding Ministry employee glanced down at the scroll of parchment in his hand, "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry quietly, there would be no need-" Myrtle felt a sob building in the back of her throat, but forced out a harsh scream instead.

"You don't understand! She- … we- …" But it was no use, the frustration had overcome her and she began howling in rage and misery as gaseous tears rolled down her face, never once touching the floor, and only giving the vaguest illusion of wetness against her pimpled skin. For the thousandth time she wished she could have matured and learned to control her emotions better. Everything about her screamed awkwardness and adolescence, from her acne-ridden face to her limp pigtails to her constant mood swings, and there wasn't even a light at the end of the tunnel. She would always be like this, and even Olive refused to see her now.

"I'm sure you have your reasons for being here, but that doesn't change the fact that I must ask you to leave, or we will have to resort to force, Ma'am." Completely incoherent for crying so much, Myrtle turned and glided away, giving it up as a lost cause.

As she moved swiftly through the countryside in the opposite direction of the castle that had for so long been both sanctuary and prison, her rage slowly faded away and her tears were simply sorrowful now. For the past four years Myrtle had only known regret. Regret that she hadn't been more forceful about Olive coming out, regret that she hadn't protested more when Olive had told her that she simply, "wasn't interested in girls anymore", regret for all the moments they had wasted pretending. The same scene that had replayed through her head thousands of times replayed once again.

She opened the door to the empty classroom where they always met. It was their safe haven. No one had ever found them there, and they were sure no one ever would. She was smiling. She hadn't met with her girlfriend in a week, and she had missed the slightly older, much more popular girl.

Olive was sitting on the bench in the middle of the room that they usually transfigured into a couch. She looked unusually somber, but her green eyes were still beautiful, and her curly brown hair still lay in perfect ringlets over her shoulders. Myrtle moved quickly towards her, longing for her touch, but as she reached out to hug her Olive moved away. Myrtle frowned, confused.

"Myrtle, there's something I need to tell you…"

"Is something wrong?" Something in Olive's voice seriously worried the other girl.

"Umm…" Olive hesitated, biting her lip "Peter asked me out today." Myrtle laughed in relief.

"Is that all? Well, you said no, right? No harm done. It's not like it hasn't happened before." She reached out to touch her girlfriend's hand, but she moved away again.

"Myrtle… I said yes." The whole world seemed to be spinning out of control. It was impossible. Olive couldn't have betrayed her like that. She just couldn't have. Not after everything…

"You're not serious." It wasn't a question.

"Myrtle… I'm… I'm so sorry… I'm just not… I'm not really interested in girls anymore…" Myrtle felt a knot rising in her throat, her mind still grasping at disbelief, her last chance.

"You can't just turn that off and on. How can all of this have meant nothing?"

"Oh, Myrtle… It's not that it didn't mean anything, it's just…"

"You can't be popular if you are lesbian."

"No, I- Can't I not be sure?" Myrtle stared at her for a minute, trying to comprehend what she was hearing.

"Fine. Whatever." She stood up, barely stopping herself from running out the door. As soon as she reached the hallway she sped up even more, the second floor bathroom was only a few feet away, she just had to hold her tears back until she reached it. But it was too late. They were already falling down her face, her shoulders shook, sobs racking her whole body as she positively sprinted down the hallway. She pushed the door open, rushed into a stall and locked the door behind her, glad for some privacy.

The disbelief began to wear away as the truth sunk in. She would never again feel Olive's soft lips on hers, smell her distinctly vanilla scented hair, or fly with her through the dark on her prized broomstick. Her dreams of walking down the hallway hand in hand with her girlfriend would never be realized, because Olive would never come out, because apparently she wasn't gay.

Myrtle heard the door to the bathroom open, and tried to silence her sobs. There was a voice speaking unintelligible words, but very clearly male. She took a deep breath, preparing herself to leave her sanctuary to tell him to go away. She brushed away the tears lingering on her cheeks, swallowing those she had not yet shed, and tried to wipe the smudges off her hated glasses. Her fingers fumbled with the latch and finally the door swung open. She glanced around the bathroom looking for the troublemaker, when her attention was caught by two giant orb-like eyes in the general direction of the sink. She didn't even have time to wonder why they were there before everything around her went dark…

When ghosts travel, they cover vast distances in short time spans, and Myrtle was already approaching the small home, nestled in the English countryside, that was her destination. She stopped, trying to get a hold of herself before she entered. She had to be calm, because the inhabitants of that quiet, picturesque home would be anything but calm when they saw her. After all, it's not everyday that the ghost of your four-year-dead daughter or sister visits you.

OOO

She was prepared for the screaming and the running. She didn't exactly have a plan, but she knew it was coming. What she wasn't prepared for was Flora's reaction. She didn't run away in terror, she didn't even look scared. There was simply shock on her face, which had turned so pale, Myrtle was sure it almost matched her own. One other thing she hadn't accounted for was time. Some how she had expected her sister to be the same twelve-year-old girl she had been, but she was Myrtle's own age now, and she wasn't nearly as awkward in her adolescence. She was clearly wearing layers of make-up, both to cover up her slightly less impressive acne, and to accent her beautiful blue eyes, which seemed in every way the opposite of Myrtle's murky brown ones. Her brown hair was slightly lighter than Myrtle's, and rather than hanging in limp pigtails it lay smoothly down her back. She was beautiful.

Both caught off guard, they stared at each other for a moment that seemed suspended between them forever. Finally, Flora spoke,

"I'd think I was imagining this, but since mum just ran away crying, I'm guessing this is… magic?" The last word was a question, and for the first time there was fear in her wide eyes.

"Basically. I think it's more than I ever understood, or could understand when I studied it, but in a much more complicated sense, I think it's magic." Myrtle was surprised she managed to stay so calm, or even that she had an answer to give.

"How… how do you not know?" Somehow Flora looked more curious than anything else.

"I… just don't I guess. When I died, I…" But she stopped. Flora's calm demeanor had suddenly given way at the mention of death. She sunk into an all too familiar kitchen chair, burying her face in her hands, her breathing suddenly labored as she gasped at air too thick to breathe. Her abrupt change in attitude was disconcerting, to say the least, showing just how much she had been hiding at first, and Myrtle didn't know how to comfort her. Normally she would have hugged her, but the cold, airy touch of a ghost would do nothing to soothe her. "Flora… I'm sorry… I didn't-"

"Why did you come back?" She didn't even look up. The question hit Myrtle like a physical blow. She hadn't thought that they would be displeased to see her, after the initial shock had worn away.

"I… I had something to tell you…"

"Myrtle… If you were still alive," her voice was shaking, but somehow she kept speaking, "I would be glad to see you, and hear what you have to say, but… don't you get it? If you're still here, it will never be over. We'll never be able to stop grieving you, because you'll never really be gone, but you'll never really be here either… and… oh God! Promise me you'll be gone by the time Mum gets back. She has to think she imagined this…" The realization of what she had done began to wash over Myrtle. How had she not foreseen this? Her mum had been struggling ever since the divorce, and Myrtle's death must have thrown her over the edge. Of course this would just make things harder, what was she thinking?

"I'm sorry. You're right. I should just go." She was barely containing yet more tears. This day was supposed to make things better, she was going to fix all the things that needed fixing. But it was all much, much worse now.

"Wait." Flora's voice sounded small and weak. Memories of the last summer she spent at home flashed through Myrtle's mind. A scared little girl who wanted her dad back, or at least for her mum to be able to comfort her, rocking her to sleep every night, tears falling thick and fast down her face when the time came for them to be parted, and a simple promise, that Myrtle had failed to keep. "I'll be back." But when she turned around, there was no scared little girl. There was a strong, beautiful woman, trying, as seemed her custom, to hide her fear. "As long as you're here, you might as well say what you came to say." Myrtle nodded, floating back to the table, and sitting down.

"I came here to… to come out to you." The confession tumbled out of her mouth all too quickly.

"To what?" Flora seemed to not understand.

"I'm… lesbian, Flora." Flora seemed to be about to say something, but Myrtle cut her off. "There was a girl… we were dating from the beginning of my fifth year at Hogwarts until the day I… until that June." Flora was silent, staring at her hands resting on the rough tabletop. Finally she spoke.

"I know," she almost whispered it, without even looking up.

"You- You what?" Myrtle spluttered.

"I know. She came here- Olive, right? – she told us everything. Wanted us to blame her, thought it was all her fault… must of used a whole box of tissues." Flora's voice was monotonous and she never once looked up. Myrtle just stared at her, disbelieving.

"That doesn't make any sense…"

"A lot of things don't make sense in life," she spoke in a tired voice, yet another emotion to join the many others she had displayed that day.

"Bu-but she- … she broke up with me."

"So I heard." Myrtle stared at her sister, trying to take it in. "Myrtle, she loved you. You know that right?"

"I… ummm… no?" This was not how Myrtle had expected this conversation to go at all.

"She did." Myrtle waited for her to say more, but she didn't.

"Thank you for telling me, Flora. I'm sorry I came." Flora smiled weakly.

"It's okay, it was nice seeing you, Myr." Myrtle tried desperately not to show her shock at hearing her old nickname again.

"Bye, Ra-ra." And she turned and floated away, leaving her family to live their lives free of her death.