Title: Do Unto Others As
Clad in a long soft cotton night gown; covered in small images of teddy bears and ducks, the young Witch shuffled her bare feet upon the cold black and white tiled floor of her Devon-shire flat. Twisting and contorting her form she stretched her arms high above her head and let out a silent yawn.
The white subway tiles that covered the walls of her water closet reflected the dim light that snuck in through a small window on the far end wall. Also surrounded by white tile, a glistening - white porcelain bath tub rested under the window.
Leaning forward she wrapped the fingers of her right hand around an X shaped chrome handle that protruded from the tile wall.
A twist produced a small squeak, the result of old metal rubbing against metal. The small rubber bushing that would have prevented the noise had long since worn away by years of use. Soon the rushing sound of water forced the silence of the room into retreat.
As steam rose from the bottom of the tub, the witch removed her hand and placed it on yet another X shaped handle. With another small twist and the familiar squeak, more water rushed from a spigot that jutted out of the tile wall.
Promptly drawing a white lace and plastic lined curtain, enclosed the steam that now rose from the depths of the glistening white tub. Slowly the rest of the small room filled with foggy moisture.
A quick peak into a black framed wall mirror assured Olive that she was in much need of the soothing shower that would start her day. The steam now escaped the confines of the tub area and lightly clung to a mirror that reflected her bloodshot eyes and disheveled hair.
She grabbed the bottom hem of her night gown with both hands and pulled it straight up and over her head. Olives' long blond locks caught momentarily on a button, pulling just a bit too roughly for her taste.
"OW!" she exclaimed in a strangulated voice.
"Ger OFF!" she croaked as she continued to tug on the nightgown until several strands of her hair were rudely ripped from the top of her head.
Nightgown "ONE", Olive Hornby "Zero" she chided herself.
Regaining her composure, Olive stood before her own reflection. She placed her hands upon the chrome faucet handles that adorned the pedestal sink and stood silently for a moment to contemplate the prior evening.
Yet again the night had been terrible for Olive. No matter what she did she could not get the sounds that bombarded her out of her mind; sounds that kept her from much needed sleep and resulted in an upset stomach.
It had been months now since Olive moved from her parents' home; a place that was always serene and soothing. Olive was the only daughter of Brice and Abigail Hornby of Devon-shire, who, Olive felt had provided a "protective cocoon "for her to grow up in.
Olive was very pretty and encouraged as a child. She was doted upon by her parents and grandparents on both sides of her family. The young witch was considered to be the most beautiful if not the smartest child that many a witch or wizard had ever met.
It was not uncommon for Olive and her mother to be stopped on the street by strangers just so they could look into the huge limpid blue eyes of the child and to admire the golden locks that flowed so effortlessly from the top of her head and gently cradled upon her shoulders.
Visually she was nearly perfect to the naked eye. There was, however, an underlying sense of superiority that was not readily apparent to the casual acquaintance. This fact was somewhat hidden by the child, even as far back as when she was a toddler. Once people got to know her, they came to realize that she was something of a spoiled brat.
Drawn back to the present, Olive realized that the situation in the bathroom had gone from ugly to uglier.
Her bloodshot blue eyes were no more than wrinkled slits; her pallor ashen. She could not believe that she was seeing something so visually unattractive so early in the morning. She did not recognize her own reflection. The face that looked back at her could not be the same self-confident and oft complimented young witch she had grown to know and love. This was not her reflection; it just could not be!
Olive reached up to place the tips of her index finger and thumb upon a small cut crystal nob. She could feel the warmth of the steam that had now begun to fill the glossy white room in which she stood.
A feeling of warmth that began in her back turned to a quick shiver that shot up her spine, made her shudder momentarily and then caused her body to relax.
"Ah", she exhaled.
Her fingers now tugged on the crystal nob, opening the door to a medicine cabinet that hung on the wall to her right.
The door opened to reveal a semitransparent, hideous pimple covered face; "BOO!" it screamed out at Olive.
"WAH THE, YOU AGAIN?" yelped Olive as she staggered backward into the cold tiled wall behind her.
The sudden jab of a door knob dug into her back causing her to wince severely. At the same time cold tiles came in contact with her bare flesh making chills run rampant through her already shocked body.
"HaHaHaHaHa" Loud obnoxious laughter now filled the once soothing bathroom. It echoed off the walls and floor as water continued to gush out of the shower head .The continuous flow of hot water caused steam to fill the room, accompanied by a steady hissing sound.
The face that leered out at Olive Hornby from the medicine cabinet was all too familiar to her. It was that terrible face, a face from her not so distant past that haunted her night and day. It was that face, accompanied by horrible screeching laughter that kept her awake night after night.
"Sick, you sick creature! How many times do I have to say I am sorry before you get it through your dead head and just leave me alone? I am so very sorry, now go! Go forever and never haunt me again!" Olive yelled at the laughing face.
In spite of yet another attempt at an apology it was obvious to Olive that her plea had again fallen on deaf ears.
Olive's life was spiraling out of control; she no longer slept peacefully. Nor could she derive comfort or solace from her job as a stenographer at the Ministry of Magic where she worked for the Wizengamot.
This hideous creature followed her, no stalked her 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year.
There was no use in trying to ignore the shrieks and squeals of laughter, the constant moaning and creaking of floorboards. This monster was apparently going to follow Olive and it was getting to her. She was a mess, a shell of her former self. The face in the medicine cabinet seemed to take great pleasure in the knowledge that this was happening.
Olive tried to pull herself together as she reached forward and slammed the medicine cabinet door shut. The mirror on the outside of the cabinet shattered in the process and the black frame splintered into pieces.
The loud cackling coming from the horrible face in the cabinet fell into the porcelain pedestal sink. With an echo to it seemed to fade away as it disappeared down the drain pipe.
Quickly moving to the shower, Olive drew the curtain back with a sweeping motion, bringing the rushing water into view.
She looked up and down inside the partially enclosed tub area but saw nothing other than steam and hot water swirling before her.
Slightly mollified, Olive laid a towel upon the floor and tucked it along the edge of the tub and the floor. Next she stepped slowly forward into the rush of water.
It was soothingly warm and oh so gentle. Her muscles screamed for relaxation, for release of their constant state of tension.
"AH, OOH, that is lovely, oh how I need this" she whispered to herself as she placed her head completely beneath the soothing cascade. Each individual stream seemed to pulsate upon the top of her head; massaging her tensions and worries away. She began to relax and allow the water to bring life back into the wreck of a person she had recently become.
Olive luxuriated in a long period of lathering her hair; an extended period where she just allowed the water to flow over her. Like time worn stone under a great waterfall, the water smoothed away the night of haunting that had so recently plagued her.
So much time passed with Olive cocooned in the steaming water blanket in that she barely noticed the water turning markedly cooler. It became that she had overstayed her time in the shower; the small water heater that hung from the ceiling worked overtime in a failing attempt to heat the water that rushed from the cold water pipes.
Once again, Olive drew back the shower curtain, having nearly forgotten about the terrifying haunting.
As she carefully stepped out onto the soft cotton floor towel, she grabbed a plush wrap that hung just outside the shower enclosure. Carefully pulling the terry cloth tightly around her waist, she reached for yet another towel to wrap around her head. Next, she ruffled her hair inside the towel, squeezing out as much water from her locks as she could.
Satisfied that she was more or less dry, Olive tossed the towels back upon the shiny chrome hook, went back to her bedroom, and dressed in her finely pressed work suit.
Standing before a full length mirror, Olive gazed with relief at a reflection that now looked so much more like the Olive Hornby she knew and loved. The crisply pleated, matching worsted - wool slacks and jacket presented, in her mind, the epitome of self-confidence and success.
After a short period applying makeup and brushing her nearly air dried hair, Olive inserted her dainty feet into a beautiful if just a little too high heeled pair of shoes. This, she felt, finished the perfect image she had of herself. Before walking out of the bedroom, Olive cast one last approving glance at her reflection in the mirror.
The clacking noise produced by her elegant shoes as she crossed the hardwood floors reminded Olive of how good she now looked. She was sure that once she had gotten to work a great deal of attention would be paid to her and that she would be noticed by just the right people. Perhaps today would be the day she would get advancement in pay and position she felt she so richly deserved. After all, Olive had been working now for several months already and had garnered much attention from some of the most important Wizards at the Ministry of Magic.
Walking into the kitchen Olive was confronted by a wall clock which repeatedly screamed "you're late, you're late, get out now, you're late!"
Olive grabbed a handful of crystallized grey powder from a red clay pot that hug from the fireplace mantle and threw the powder into the hearth. Suddenly, a blaze of brilliant green flames shot far up the chimney. Without hesitating, the lovely witch stepped right into the flames; not a worry or care in the world and she was gone.
Moments later at the Ministry of Magic, Olive stepped out of an imposingly large black tiled fireplace accompanied by dozens of other late employees. Many of these Witches and Wizards walked with quickened steps, muttering the phrases "Oh MERLIN" and "For Merlin's Sake "as they rushed to their respective work areas.
The clinking of the metal gates of the Ministry transports could be heard echoing throughout the vast great halls of the Ministry entry. The high vaulted ceilings reverberated with the sounds of the footsteps, clattering, and chatter produced by the hustle and bustle below.
Walking calmly toward the open gate before her, Olive felt the gaze of many sets of eyes, assessing how wonderful she looked. A bit of smugness crept across her face as Olive's broad, red lipsticked smile spread. She focused her large blue eyes directly ahead, not wishing to give away for a second that she might be concerned at who was actually looking at her. She felt that to be taken seriously, she must always present this slightly aloof guise of perfection.
Maintaining her regal composure, Olive glided across the hard polished granite floors and into an elevator, its metal gates clanking loudly upon closure. A few small pink and blue paper airplanes barely made their way into the transport before the bottom gave out, abruptly plunging its cargo into the bowels of the Ministry structure.
The transports golden gates retracted the moment it stopped. Most of the occupants' scurried out, each in a hurry to get to their respective destinations. Olive exited last, giving the elevator worker just the hint of a smile. As she did so, the tall transport operator turned a deep shade of crimson, adjusted his tightening collar, and swallowed very hard.
Almost immediately the golden gates rattled closed and the transport disappeared, with a whoosh, into a hole in the black tiled wall.
As she proceeded to the number one chamber of the Wizengamot, the click, click, click of Olive's high heeled shoes echoed along the corridor. It was a constant and even cadence; not worried or rushed. No sense of urgency could be detected from the sound that they made.
Seeing the stone lined walls of the lower section of the Wizengamot, one instantly realized that this was a far older section of the structure than was the great hall above. The temperature here was cooler and the air a bit mustier and less flowing.
As Olive approached a small corner in the hallway, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Just as she rounded the corner, however, the young witch was confronted by what looked to be a body hanging from a transparent rope. The rope appeared to be tied to a swinging metal light fixture high above the lifeless form of "MYRTLE!"
"AAAAAHHHHHKKKKKKKK!" Olive screamed loudly.
Her composure now gone she dissolved into a sobbing mess, nerves unraveling in an instant and looked to be on the verge of a complete breakdown.
Olive's eyes opened so wide that they looked like two white saucers with tiny dots in the center! Her mouth remained open but she was suddenly mute; a silent scream stuck in her throat as her breathing all but nearly stopped.
This was it; Olive had reached her breaking point. No matter how much of a facade of confidence and perfection she attempted to portray to everyone else around her, Olive knew that this was it. Her insides were now as shattered as her medicine cabinet mirror.
She felt as if her body was a porcelain vessel and that everything that made up Olive on the inside had just broken into a million tiny razor sharp shards that were now falling into her high heeled shoes. Her stomach dropped but still no sound emitted from her gaping lips.
The sight before her was so awful, so devastating that she just could not seem to force herself to turn away from the horrific vision.
Slowly the body began to swing back and forth, then more violently as deep moaning began to fill the corridor.
Tears flooded Olive's now bloodshot eyes and her makeup began running in streaks down her face. The blackened liquefied mascara flowed onto the blush on her cheeks, mixed with face powder, and pooled into the corners of her open mouth. Combining with her lipstick the clownish goo created what appeared to be an animated gash in her face as it dripped off her chin.
At her feet a colorful blotch formed; the mixture of cosmetic products and Olives own tears.
Finally a scream of utter terror escaped her. It was as if the sound had been ripped from her and then amplified by the use of the Sonorus Charm.
Abruptly, a door at the far end of the hallway swung open. A short young Wizard emerged and ran out towards the disturbance.
To his utter horror he found himself looking up at the Ghostly, semitransparent form of a young girl swinging high above by her neck. Quickly his gaze dropped to the shuddering, quacking, and screaming young lady before him. She was obviously of flesh and blood in stark contrast to the figure suspended above them.
He quickly dragged the young Witch to the safety of an office room not far down the hallway.
Out in the corridor the childish moaning of the ghostly figure of Myrtle quickly turned to childish laughter. Moving her head in a circular pattern, the noose appeared to disappear and she floated down towards the closed office door, still giggling like a child with a very big secret.
Inside the office sanctuary, sobs of despair continued to flow out of Olive Hornby while the Wizard attempted to console and comfort her as best he could. Reaching into his jacket pocket he removed a monogrammed silk handkerchief and handed it to Olive which she promptly took and blew her nose.
As she folded the silken hankie Olive noticed the elaborate gold monogram; a bold "C" over an ornate "F".
Continuing to shake as tears burned and blurred her eyes, she tried to slow her breathing which now came in short gasps.
"There, there my dear, it will be fine. I am sure everything is going to be just fine", soothed the Wizard.
"Fudge, Cornelius Fudge at your service… And you, I have noticed you recently at the Wizengamot; Hornby isn't it?"
Olive wiped her eyes with a clean side of the handkerchief and attempted to quell her gasps for air.
She nodded her head up and down, not yet having regained her speaking voice.
"Yes, a haunting I see? There are laws against that kind of thing you know. Well, that and the fact that I am the second assistant to the prosecutor of the Wizengamot himself. I am sure that there is something that I, I mean we can do to assist you with this dilemma." A smile crept across the little wizards' young face as he tilted his head to one side in order to get a better look at the witch's expression.
Olive smiled a small smile. Her breathing had begun its difficult journey back to normal. Unfortunately she was still shattered inside. Still trembling she clung to the handkerchief that was still clutched in her hand.
Her gaze now fixed upon the serious but comforting visage of Cornelius Fudge. The pleading look in her eyes implored Fudge to help in any way possible.
"Yes, yes, I see. There are banishment charms, exorcisms, and all sorts of legalities that can be enforced upon an unruly and unwarranted haunting. Yes, let me find it… Ah yes, here it is." The young Wizard reached up and took a heavy volume down off a large bookshelf that was filled with dozens of hard bound text.
Olive did not speak. She did not dare correct the young wizard in his assumption that this was an unwarranted haunting. After all, Olive knew full well that had it not been for her actions just a few short years earlier, none of this would be happening now. The ghostly figure that haunted her day and night; forever frozen in time as a young girl, would still be alive…..