Written for Scavenger Hunt Challenge (10. A Riddle Era fic about someone other than Tom), Variety of Prompts Challenge (Objects: 3. Mirror / Words: 11. Cauldron)
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or any characters associated with it.
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June 13th, 1943
It was with great regret that Myrtle found herself here.
Cold. Dead.
Staring over her own body as it lay unmoving on the bathroom floor. The sink had long overflown, dripping water slowly onto the harsh frozen floor. She had screamed, but no one had come, and now she cried. Cried against the wall, attempting to put as much distance between herself, and the body.
No matter how far she crawled away, it never seemed far enough. She wanted to run from the room, but could not find the strength to stand, and as her body blocked her path, she wanted to not go near it. Tears bit down heavily. Her sobs racked her body with a furious beat that, had she been alive, would have hurt dearly.
This scared Myrtle even further. She could not feel the tears this time. After a life time of crying, she had become accustomed to the feel of tears of her face. There was no feeling now. No coolness which had always been a slight comfort to her misery.
There was nothing but her pitiful sounding sobs, and the sound from the sink facet.
It was all the young ghost could do, to hold herself tight, and pray that someone would come and rip her from this nightmare.
June 3rd, 1943
"Where you going Myrtle." The sickening taunting voices filled around her as Myrtle climbed the stair cases. She refused to look back, drawing the books in her arms tighter against her chest as she went. The clambering of following footsteps confirmed her fear that the girls were not to leave her alone that day. Try as she may, she could not pull ahead, and before she knew it, two figures stepped around her, blocking her in the stair way.
Myrtle glanced between the two before her, and the three behind her. She glanced over the rail, debating if the jump to a lower staircase was too risky.
"It's rude not to answer." The vicious voice drew Myrtle's attention back onto the girls. She glared behind crocked glasses at the one who had spoken. Long blonde hair fell in ripples down her back, cherry red lips pursed in amusement, and hazel eyes as striking as gold. Gryffindor red completed the look of her tormenter. Olive Hornby watched Myrtle like a bird watches a worm, and that was how the scene would play out.
"I said." Olive leaned forward, smirking all the while, "that it's rude to not answer. Now come on Myrtle. Where you going?"
"Nowhere." Myrtle answered, sounding more a mouse than a girl. "Just the library."
"The library." Olive's smirk turned into a much gentler smile, which sent a wave of fear through Myrtle. "You don't say. What would you being doing in there? I mean, you already finished your homework haven't you?"
Myrtle only nodded, knowing full well where this was heading. Olive smiled wider, she too knew where this would lead.
"Good." The Gryffindor said, reaching into her bag to pull out a thick book. Slamming it into the stack Myrtle already carried, she continued speaking, not missing a beat. "Then you can do my paper for me. Professor Chopine wants a half a roll of parchment, summarizing chapter thirteen in that book. You can do that for me? I mean, it's not like you had any other plans for the weekend."
"Actually." Myrtle started, but closed her mouth quickly.
"What was that?" Olive's voice was dangerously low. "I don't think you heard me Moaning Myrtle. You are going to do this paper for me. And you aren't going to complain. Because you see, if you don't, I'll be quite mad. And you won't like me when I'm mad. I believe we've had this discussion before."
Myrtle nodded meekly.
"Good." Olive patted her on the head. After withdrawing her touch, and whipping the palm of her hand against her shirt in a matter of disgust, the Gryffindor turned, marching up the stairs. The group of girls with her pushed passed Myrtle, nearing toppling her down the steps.
Left standing there, Myrtle could only sigh. Readjusting the books in her arms, she continued walking as she had been, eager to leave the stairwell before anyone else were to stop her.
June 5th, 1943
Potions had never been Myrtle's favorite class. The main reason was that the class was shared between the Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors. No third years in the class were eager to join tables with her, other than Hagrid that was. She had nothing against the Gryffindor (as he seemed to be in the same forgotten and sinking boat as her), but his size was not compatible with hers when it came to this class.
The half-giant was large, burly, and had to stoop down in order to stir the cauldron. He was huge for a fourteen year old, could have passed for a seventh year if he wanted. Soft black eyes and roughly curled hair, he was indeed a sweetheart, and one of the few people who did not pock fun at her, but his size was just not easy to forget. More than once he would knock over a table, or cauldron, the contents sometime spilling onto her. But as frustrating as all this was, he was sadly the only one willing to work with her.
"It says to add the juice of four frog eyes." Myrtle read in a monotone voice. She watched as Hagrid did as instructed; his fingers fighting for hold of the eyes, while she diced the roots needed. Her focus on the potion assignment was near none existent. Instead, her gaze kept moving across the room.
Smiling as if it were her job, Olive giggled in a very girly manner at her partner. She battered her eyelashes at the proper moments, showed just the right amount of teeth in her smile, and all around did an excellent job in flirting. This was all clear in the way her partner, Dennis Charlek was all but falling to his knees before her.
It was sickening to watch, but Myrtle couldn't look away. She absentmindedly dumped the root into the cauldron, splashing some of the potion onto her arms, but kept watching Olive. As gross as the courting seemed, Myrtle wished she could do that. She wished she could beat her eyelashes, and win over any guy that looked her direction. It seemed so easy for Olive. Then again, the Gryffindor was the Queen of her house, while Myrtle, well Myrtle was the naissance that Ravenclaw tower tried to get rid of.
"Frog eyes are done." Hagrid spoke beside her.
"Good." Myrtle nodded, still watching her tormenter enjoying herself. "Now do the next step please."
As if she could sense the pair of eyes on her, Olive glanced in Myrtle's direction. It was horrifying, hazel eyes locking onto her and narrowing into demonic slits. Myrtle looked away first, shoving her face into the textbook. She refused to look back up, had she done so she would not only have seen Olive's angry glare, but the girl whispering nastily into Dennis' ear. She also would have seen the sneer coming onto Dennis' face, and that sight would have saved her a whole Hell of a lot of embarrassment.
"You okay?" Asked Hagrid.
Myrtle refused to look up. Instead she shrugged, attempting to find her place in the text.
"Okay." Hagrid muttered. "I'm going to the supply cabinet for the snake scales. Don't forget to stir this."
The sound of his heavy footsteps leaving covered up the approaching pair.
"Hey, Myrtle."
This time Myrtle did look up. Her gaze connected emerald green eyes and fair complexion under a mess of blonde hair. The Gryffindor tie he sported was undone, dangling over his button up shirt.
"Hey, Will." Myrtle stuttered out. Her hands flayed about, attempting to find purchase of the table counter. In her attempt she knocked over several ingredients, and toppled her textbook onto the floor. "Oh, no."
"I got it." Will knelt down, picking up the discarded book. He stood, handing the potions book back to her, smiling in the process. "Here you go."
"Thanks." Myrtle said, taking the book and putting it back onto the counter. "Why are you here? I mean, what do you need? I mean-"
"Relax Myrtle." Will chuckled. "Wow, you sure are cute when nervous."
His hand reached out, fingers trailing through her long hair.
"What?" Myrtle squeaked, unsure as to what was happening. "I don't think I heard you right."
"I think you did." Will smiled at her, still playing with her hair.
"Oi!" Hagrid's deep voice snapped Myrtle back from her trance. Turning around, she caught sight of the half-giant, glaring angrily at Olive just on the other side of the table. The girl had the decency to look sheepish.
"Hi." Olive spoke, her voice level, if not the tad bit hasty. "I ran out of snake's scales and wondered if I could borrow some of yours. I see you don't have any here. What a shame, I'll just check the cabinet."
Olive was gone a moment later, walking towards the cabinet. Myrtle shook it off, turning back to where Will had been standing. She was surprised to find him gone. Glancing around, she spotted him on the other side of the room, high-fiving Dennis and smirking widely.
"You okay?" Hagrid asked.
"Fine." Myrtle lied, having trouble removing her gaze from the boy he had seemed to be flirting with her just moments prior. She pull her gaze away eventually, looking into the bubbling cauldron. "Um, Hagrid. Is it supposed to do this?"
"Do what?" Hagrid asked, leaning over the potion as well. "I don't think-"
It exploded.
Chunks of sticky liquid shot from the cauldron, splattering all over the pair standing over it. The green liquid clung to them, dripping down them slowly. Myrtle yelled, stumbling back, trying desperately to remove the substance from her mouth and glasses. Hagrid was no better, the stuff clinging to his messy hair. Laughter tore through the classroom from all over.
"Just calm down dear." Professor Slughorn's voice came from her left. "Let's get you two cleaned up now shall we? Here, take this."
He handed her what felt like a rough rag. Myrtle began to rub her glasses furiously, desperate to see the damage. Once cleaned, she slide them back on, regretting it instantly.
On the other side of the room, Dennis and Will were laughing loudly, smirking at her all the while. Beside them, Olive was leaning against the desk, her arms crossed against her chest, and a smile of victory on her lips.
June 7th, 1943
Life wasn't all bad at Hogwarts. The bad days (while quite horrid) held nothing against the good ones. Today in particular was one of those days. Sunny skies hung overhead as she sat by the Great Lake, watching the waves lap about. The tree she leaned against cast a comforting shade over her as she sat in silence, reading the book in her lap.
It was peaceful, something Myrtle had begun to forget could exist. Getting to enjoy herself like this was a rare treat, one that she was going to take advantage of.
"Hey, Myrtle!"
At first, she was too afraid to look up. She recognized the voice though, and calmed her fears. Glancing to who had spoken, she spotted the girl running towards her. She was rather large, a bit too overweight to be healthy. Black hair hung in waves around her tanned face. Dark brown eyes wide against her face.
"Hi Lucy." Myrtle smiled tensely, irritated by being interrupted by the Hufflepuff.
Lucy didn't pick up on the irritation as she dropped down beside her friend. "Whatcha doing?"
"Reading." Myrtle held up the book, before dropping it back onto her lap. "Whatcha need?"
"Nothing really." Lucy continued to smile. "Just wanted to see if you were up for some fun."
Myrtle was about to decline, wishing to finish the book she'd been reading, but stopped. It wasn't all the time that she was invited to hang out with people, and she couldn't well pass up the few times that it happened.
"Well look here." Olive's voice cut through, stopping the conversation. The two glanced in the direction of the voice, watching as Olive stared at them a few feet away, her group of girls behind her. "If it isn't Moaning Myrtle and Lucy Caboose."
"What do you want?" Lucy asked, anger in her voice.
"Oh, I don't want anything from you two." Olive snickered. "The penniless Myrtle, and ever over indulging Lucy. What could you two possibly have that I would want?"
"Leave than." Lucy called back.
"I don't think I will." Olive replied, a hand dropping onto her narrow hips. "Free period and all. Plus, the grounds are open to everyone. You have no right to tell me to leave."
"Whatever." Lucy narrowed her eyes at them, before turning back to Myrtle. "So you up for it? Allen and Scott are having a Barty Every Flavor Beans Challenge. First one to eat the boogie flavor wins."
"That's what you lot call fun?" Olive's voice plagued them one more.
"What else can you expect?" One of the girls snickered. "These Mudbloods don't know a thing about proper society or behavior."
"You better watch it." Lucy rose to her feet. "I'm warning you."
Myrtle was on her feet, gripping Lucy's arm in restraint. "Don't do this."
"You should listen to her." Olive continued, unfazed by the scene. "At least Moaning knows her place."
As the girls sauntered off, Myrtle dropped back to the base of the tree with a huff. A snatched up her book, glaring at its pages.
So much for a peaceful day.
June 10th, 1943
Whispers followed Myrtle everywhere she went that day. It was frustrating how she couldn't make it through one class without catching someone pointing or staring at her. She should have been used to it by now. At the age of fourteen, Myrtle was no stranger to bullies and taunting. Considered to be a squat girl, with lanky hair, pimple ridden face, and glasses so thick that they could kill an ant with just the smallest ray of sun, it was easy to see why she was picked out as a target.
None of this made Myrtle feel any better. She didn't care why they did it, all she wanted was for them to stop. They never did though, and the taunts kept coming.
"What's this?"
The question, spoken in such a disturbing way, broke Myrtle from her thoughts. Glancing up, realizing that a large number of people in the Library were paying attention to the scene, she fought to understand what was happening. Olive stood before her, holding up a small, battered book in her hands. Eyes roaming over the inside hungrily, a wicked smirk pulled at the girls lips.
"Give that back." Myrtle cried, realizing what the girl was holding. "It's mine."
"Of course its yours." Olive shrugged, not looking up from the book. "Who else would have a dairy as tacky as this? Let's see, what we have here. 'June 5th, Dear Diary…'"
"Please." Myrtle begged. "Give it back."
"Patrick Glisters smiled at me today,'", Olive read aloud, "'It wasn't a normal smile either. It was so full and happy. I think he likes me. Why else would he smile at me like that?' Like you? Why dear Moaning Myrtle, would he ever like you?"
The cackling laughter's that passed around them brought the tears pouring from Myrtle's eyes. This only seemed to egg the group on.
"Oh look." Another girl spoke. "She's crying. You made the baby cry Myrtle."
"Oh great," another voice melted into the mix, "now I'll have to listen to her flooding the dorms tonight. As if she weren't bad enough as was."
"It's not my fault." Olive fainted innocents. "I just wanted to help her out. We wouldn't want these thoughts of Patrick growing in her mind now would we? It's not right to let her go about, thinking she has a chance with him, when we all know Patrick likes women with more class. After all, it's better she hears it from me, than have her heart broken by his rejection."
Amid their taunting, Myrtle gathered up her things, shoving them into her bag with little care. She stepped around the table, reaching for her diary.
Olive pulled back, holding it just out of reach. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it's not nice to grab things from people's hands? I know she's Muggle and all, but even the most savage dogs have some sense of obedience."
"Just give it back." Myrtle stifled her tears, readjusting the bag over her shoulders. "Please."
"Well, since you said please." Olive lowered the diary just slightly. "You can have it back after I'm finished reading."
"Please." Myrtle continued to plead. "Give it back."
"I don't think I will." Olive took a step closer, the height difference between them showing as she bent her knees to be face level with the younger Ravenclaw girl. She waved the dairy back and forth. "You need to remember your place here Mudblood. I'm keeping this dairy until I am done with it. At which point, you can have it back. How does that sound?"
Taking the opportunity, Myrtle snatched at the item. She felt the tattered leather in her hands, and gave a hard tug. The dairy slipped from Olive's hands and into hers. Without waiting for anyone to move, Myrtle clutched the diary tight, making a mad sprint for the door. She could hear the indignant screams of the girl's as she exited the library, but didn't turn around to face them. She kept going, heading for the bathroom for cover.
June 12th, 1943
You would think that Olive would take a break of two from her tormenting, and actually focus on school work. This was not the case, as another disaster of potions was upon them.
The potion in question was a simple one, but Myrtle was finding it hard to focus. All morning long, girls had been following behind her, faking sobs to mock the nickname she had been given as Moaning Myrtle. To top it off, Olive had flaunted Patrick Glisters on her arm, making it a point to gain Myrtle's attention before planting a kiss on his cheek. With the end of the school year coming up, none of this did anything to quell her stress level.
So it was understandably why she was so frazzled come potions. Hagrid had claimed sick, leaving her alone for the class. She didn't mind, as without the presents of the half-giant, she had made much progress with the potion. That was until a cheerfully demonic voice came from just over her head.
"What is this?" Olive's voice asked from beside her. "We're supposed to be making a poison antidote. Why, I'm sure this would kill anyone who drank it."
"Why don't you find out for yourself." Myrtle muttered before she could stop herself.
"What?" Olive asked. "Would you care to repeat that?"
Myrtle sighed, looking up. "Look, can we not do this today? I am tired, and trying to work. Why don't you grow up, and go away."
"Excuse me?"
"You're excused." Myrtle snarled. She turned her attention back onto her potion, stirring it and praying for the girl to leave. "Now please, go away."
"That's not how this works." Olive growled, slamming her hand against the table.
"Go away." Myrtle snapped. She withdrew her spoon from the cauldron a bit too roughly, splattering some of the murky grey potion onto Olive's robes. What bravery had formed inside of Myrtle was gone. "I am so sorry."
"You did that on purpose." Olive yelled, gaining the attention of the room. "What is wrong with you?"
"It was an accident."
Olive was having none of that. Suddenly in the hotspot for once, she grabbed ahold of a handful of slugs, and threw them onto Myrtle's robes. Outraged, and fuelled by aggravation, Myrtle retaliated, dipping her spoon back into the potion, and splashing as large mess of it down the front of Olive's robes.
Myrtle was pleased with her stance, and proud of herself for standing up. This was until Professor Slughorn appeared between the two of them, getting slammed on either side by the slugs Olive continued to throw, and the potion splatters from Myrtle. He looked at the two, irritation in his eyes.
"Detention." He spoke. "Both of you. Tonight. This classroom."
It was with great regret that Myrtle was there in detention several hours later, scrapping away the dried spills from the potions tables. Olive was just a few tables ahead of her, mopping the same spot over and over again. Her gaze was locked onto Myrtle, and it was a gaze full of hatred and rage. Slughorn was nowhere to be seen, having stepped out moments prior.
"I swear by Merlin himself." Olive growled. "I will make you regret your pitiful existence."
Thankfully, Slughorn chose that moment to reenter the room, commenting on their progression. Had he not entered, Myrtle was sure she would have met an untimely death right there at the hands of the raving Gryffindor.
June 13th, 1943
The incident in the potions room had not been forgotten the next day. Cornered in a forgotten first floor hallway, and without her wand, Myrtle was indeed scared now. The girls crowed around her, pinning her against the wall. Their hands reached out, tugging at her lanky hair, and pinching her cheeks. Their snickers and taunts greeted her ears, but she refused to open her eyes to see who was talking.
"Back up girls." Olive's voice was one she knew all too well. "I want my turn."
The shuffling off feet informed Myrtle that the other girls had backed off. Myrtle opened her eyes long enough to see Olive's hand slam against the wall, in which case she cowered, and closed her eyes again.
"Listen up Myrtle." Olive said her name with such distain. "I have grown tired of our games. Open your eyes you sod."
Myrtle did as told, slowly staring at the girl standing in front of her. Glancing on either side, she was nervous to see that her path to escape was cut off.
"That's better." Olive picked back up. "Might, aren't you an ugly girl."
She reached out, plucking the glasses from the girls face. She examined them like one might a bug. Myrtle squinted her eyes, trying desperately to see what was happening through the fog.
"You are blind." Olive snickered, passing the glasses between her hands. "And I must say, you look even uglier without these glasses."
"I can't see without them." Myrtle reached out.
Swatting her hand away, Olive laughed. "I had a feeling you were going to say that. But believe me honey, I'm doing you a favor here."
The sound of breaking glass sent waves of dread through Myrtle. Seconds later, the glasses were shoved roughly back onto her face. While the world became clear once more, several tiny cracks marred her vision.
"Now listen here." Olive's voice was dangerously low. "We aren't going to have a stunt like yesterday again are we? Because next time, it might not be those ugly glasses of yours that I break. Are we clear?"
"Yes." Myrtle answered, just wanting this situation to end. The tears were flowing heavily from her eyes.
"Are you crying?" One of the girls asked.
"When isn't she crying?"
"Moaning Myrtle, always the baby."
"So pathetic."
"That's enough girls." Olive said, but from the tone in her voice, it was clear that she wished to mock further. "Now, Myrtle. This is your second chance. No more funny business right. You have your place, and you stay there. Remember that. You are the ugly Mudblood, with the hideous glasses, and that's all you'll ever be."
Myrtle tore away, managing to shove over two of the girls in the process. The girls made a grab for her, catching the strap of her satchel and breaking it open. The items flew about, landing scattered on the ground. She had enough time to snatch her diary from the mess, before running.
She didn't know how long she ran for, but she found herself locked in a bathroom stale, where she lost track of time while crying. Hours could have passed, days, she didn't know, she just sat in the crying, her back against the loo, and legs drawn up to her chest. She clutched her diary and glasses to her chest, refusing to let go of them.
Before long, or maybe it was hours afterward, Myrtle didn't know, the bathroom door opened. She fought back the tears. She half expected Olive and the others to hear her hiccups and bust open the door to taunt her once more. They didn't come, and Myrtle strained her ears to hear who had entered.
That was when the intruder spoke. The voice was low, and obviously belonged to a boy. Her throat grew tight as he spoke, muttering in a foreign language. The sound of a sink running mixed in to the noise. Opening the door ever so slightly, Myrtle tried to pier out, unable to make out the boy.
"Go away." She cried. "This is the girl's bathroom!"
He stopped speaking, only for the sound of shifting gears to begin. Myrtle coward, unsure what the noise was. After several long second, silence fell over, other than her hiccups and the still running sink. She wondered if the boy had left, and decided against her better judgment to look for herself.
Gripping her diary and glasses tightly to her chest, she opened the stall door and took a step out. He stood at the end of the hall, a tall form of black in her blurry sight. He didn't moved, only stood frozen, watching her. Myrtle dropped the items in her hands, the diary clattering against the floor, and her glasses breaking even further. She dropped to her knees desperate to get ahold of her glasses.
A hiss of a snake graced the air, and she searched faster. She could make out a black form slithering about in the reflection of the bathroom mirrors.
Finally finding them, she pulled the glasses up towards her face, her gaze on the large black form moving towards her. The glasses were just on the tip of her nose, right below her line of sight when the yellow eyes locked onto her. She screamed, it was all she could do. The sound ripped from her chest for only a second, before life was cut short, and her body toppled to the ground, her glasses sliding fully into place as she struck the marble floor.
That was it. That was her death. Killed by blurry yellow eyes in a deserted bathroom. It seemed fitting that that was how she would end. A pitiful existence quelled only by a sad death.
The fact that she was still here though, crying in a corner, watching the water from the still running sink slowly soak her robes was pure torment. She couldn't remove her gaze from the lifeless body which had been hers. She had reached out towards it the first moment of conscious, only to fall back at the sight of her opaque form. It was ridiculous really, that she were to become a ghost. She didn't think she deserved this, to be locked in the bathroom, too scared to move as that would mean going closer to the body. It was cruel, and she was only fourteen.
This further pushed the tears. For hours she cried. Dinner must have been coming up, because she could hear the voices of students milling about down the hall. She tried to scream for them, for anyone to venture this direction and assist her. Despite this, her voice never got loud enough to be heard outside of the bathroom walls.
Frantic, she searched around for something that she could throw to gain attention. She looked in the direction her diary had fallen, terrified when she saw that only a few ripped pages lay behind in the water. The boy, whoever he had been, the one with the monster that had killed her. He must have taken it. Myrtle laughed despite herself at the thought. Killed and robbed in a bathroom. There was irony in this somewhere, and Myrtle would find it.
The clatter of children outside grew faint as they all moved about. Myrtle sighed, the tears flowing softer from her eyes. She refused to face the body, instead pinned herself into a corner, knees drawn up to her chest. She sat there for hours, hidden from view.
The bathroom door slammed open, giving Myrtle a jolt. She feared for a second that the boy would have returned, but it wasn't him. It was Olive. She stood in the doorway, shoes just out of reach of the water. She looked around the bathroom, not yet noticing Myrtle or the body that were just on the other side of the large sink.
"Are you here again, sulking Myrtle?" There was a hint of desperation in her voice. Her footsteps sent splatters through the water mess as she entered into the bathroom. She clicked the sink off, standing just around the corner from the body. "Because Professor Dippet asked me to look for you-"
The screams that racked from Olive's throat caused Myrtle to growl. How dare her, Myrtle though. How dare she have the nerve to look worried, and scared, screaming her head off, while it was Myrtle who had died. It was Myrtle who was a ghost. Myrtle who had had her life ripped away at just fourteen. Myrtle who had been only seeking escape from this very girl in front of her. For the first time since her death, Myrtle rose to her feet. For being dead and a ghost, she found it quite easy to stand.
Olive stopped screaming as she caught sight of the presence against the wall. Myrtle wondered what she looked like, a white entity, standing just in the shadows over her own body. It must have been a sight to see, and had she not been so bitter at the time, she might have enjoyed this moment.
"This is your fault." Myrtle growled, her voice tight from crying. "All your fault."
"Myrtle." Olive pleaded. "I didn't mean for this-"
"Be quite!"
"What happened?" Olive pleaded. "What did you do?"
"You think I did this?" Myrtle snarled. She took a step forward, amazed with how quickly she flew forward, nearly crashing through Olive, but managing to stop just shy. Her body lay behind her, forgotten and waterlogged.
"You think this is my fault!" Myrtle yelled despite the sudden closeness to the other girl. "This is your fault! You're the reason I'm dead!"
"I didn't mean for-"
"Your fault!" Myrtle screamed. "All your fault! I will never let you forget this!"
The mirrors in the bathroom shattered. Glass flew about in a wild shower. Olive let out a cry of fear, stumbling out of the bathroom as the glass rained down over them. The girl didn't even bother to shut the door, leaving it wide open for Myrtle to stare out.
A new set of sobs racked through the ghost's chest as she caught sight of herself in a broken mirror. She could almost see through herself. Cold, blank eyes stared ahead without nothing to live for. Moving her gaze back onto her body, seeing the shattered glasses in front of fearful eyes, Myrtle cried.
There was nothing to live for, now that she wasn't alive.
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First off, thank you for finishing in reading this. It means a great deal.
I love Moaning Myrtle, I really do. She's just such an interesting character, and such a sad one as well. I mean, this little fourteen year old, just about to finish her third year, and she dies in a bathroom. J.K. Rowling why do you feel the need to hurt me so with all these tragic killings? But anyways, I've always been intrigued with the way she died (not meant to sound morbid) so I decided to work with that.
Besides, the challenge asked for someone other than Tom in that Era, and there's only a few people we know of who were at the school during that time: Myrtle, Hagrid, Slughorn, Dumbledore, Dippet, and Olive. That's the main people that we know of, and Myrtle has to be my favorite. So I wrote her.
I hope you all enjoyed. It was so much fun to write. I hadn't planned on it going this long, but once I started, I couldn't stop.
Fine.