A/N: In light of 9/11 and all those killed in the act, I decided to write something...a little different.
And then they lived happily ever after…
In life, there are no happy endings. There's no chariot that carries you off into the sunset, invisible choir singing and birds hanging a sign that says "The End." Sure, Cinderella and Prince Charming road off into the sunset, but then what? What happens after the chariot pulls up in the royal driveway, the choir stops singing, and the birds fly south? Well, ole Charming dies of a heart attack at 60 because of too many years working a stressful job running the kingdom. Cinderella followed him two years later when breast cancer won the fight, though some say she'd given it up with the death of her husband. They had been too busy living in a fairy tale to get life insurance so their nine kids were left with the funeral bills and a cold castle.
In death, we find our ending, or so you would think.
By now you're probably wondering how I know about all those things. How I even know about those insolent children's stories; meant to teach you a lesson, but somehow always end in happily ever after anyway. That's not realistic, that's not life. In life, things are different.
Husbands leave their wives, mothers abandon their children.
Their excuses are always, "I just wanted a better home for you."
But that's rubbish.
They are selfish, they are all selfish.
Not just the woman that abandon their children though; Everyone, men, women, and children alike.
Full of lust, envy, and greed; Selfish won't even suffice. Insolent, narcissistic, malevolent, egocentric; there aren't enough words in existence to describe to you the human race.
So back to life: my life, may just shock you.
But then again: you're selfish too, since you are, I assume, part of the human race.
See, I'm dead.
Not even dead, really though.
I'm somewhere in between. No, not purgatory, the place between heaven and hell (otherwise known as earth).
No, I did things, bad things, things you wouldn't even dream about in your worst of nightmares.
I killed people and put their bodies at the bottom of a magically enchanted lake. If you touch the water, it's safe to say you die and become one of the many nonbeings at the bottom.
Among them was the most selfish of them all, the man who impregnated my mother. No, not my father. I don't have one of those. His parents, a woman who had a cup I wanted and a necklace that belonged, rightfully, to me. The bodies of many Aurors, one of whom only had one eye.
Regulus Black, a traitor; and several other ruddy servants who failed me in the past.
Among the people I killed was a young boy, a year old to be exact, and his parents.
I never would've found them If not for their lifeless, traitor friend, by the name of Peter Pettigrew. Ah yes, another selfish traitor, but nonetheless, helpful. He was their secret keeper, he and he alone knew where they lived, why they entrusted him with such vital information I did not know. But I did know that I finally had my chance, I was going to kill the boy at nightfall on Halloween.
I killed the male who stood in my way, and as I blew the door and several dressers away from the female and the child with one lazy flick of my wand, excitement drilled deep into my core. I had him, I was going to kill him and the wizarding world, and then the muggle world, that's you, would be mine. I would rule all of you selfish creatures.
But the female, who fell to the floor lifeless after a flash a green from my wand, imprinted something in the child.
Love, they say, but really she just transferred all of her magic into him. Thus making her a muggle, and him unbeatable. So I killed him, or…so I tried to but that love she'd bestowed upon him rebounded, instead I was the one killed.
Only I wasn't killed, not really; I was destroyed. Luckily, I had my own means of returning.
Albus Dumbledore said many times that I don't know love. He said that I didn't understand it.
But he was wrong.
Just like you can't have light without dark, good without evil, or God without the devil; you can't have love without hate.
I hated many things, with these previous six hundred and seventy-eight words you may already know a list of the things I despise.
The boy, his parents, human beings, traitors, Albus Dumbledore, the list goes on…
Who's to say I never loved too?
Dumbledore knew many things, far too much for a human brain. But what he didn't know may shock you thus further. See, I did love once, and I was loved back. For she I blame unto my deep loathing hatred for all human life.
Flesh and bone bound by the Merlin himself, she was.
She was beautiful (too beautiful), smart (too smart), naïve (not naïve enough), and by far the most magnificent creature to this day.
Her name…was Annabel Lefevre.
By now you're wondering why, if I do in fact, know how to love, am I so full of hatred? What happened to this Annabel? And why haven't you ever heard of her? I'm sure, by now, you want to know everything that happened, From start to finish.
Before I tell you anything there are a few crucial details you should know first; I'm so hateful because she's dead. She's died…because I killed her. And her name may have originally been Annabel Lefevre…but over time, after she died, she gave herself a nickname. Over the years she became what you know her as; Moaning Myrtle.
There were many stories told about the 'geeky girl with glasses and pigtails'; who she was, how she died, who killed her…
Some say her whole family was in Gryffindor and were so disappointed in her for being put in Hufflepuff that, unable to sustain the guilt harboring over her entire existence, she hung herself in the girls washroom. Others say she was a squat student with dark lank hair, pimples and thick glasses who cried so much one day from being teased of her appearance that she drowned in her own tears. However, most say she was a muggle-born witch who was sorted into Ravenclaw and killed by Salazar Slytherin's basilisk under Tom Riddle's orders.
But here's what actually happened; First off, the crying, hanging, sorting, and wretched appearances were all myths; she was beautiful, her hair long and dark brown, nearly black. Her eyes as blue and clear as ice. They could cut you like a knife, those eyes.
She was a Slytherin, same year as me. She was sly, cunning, she could get you to do anything she wanted just by a bat of her eye. Those who knew her would say she was quite the bully. But to me…she was truly remarkable.
Now let me take you back to 1941…
"So there's this new girl," Edmond Lestrange said kicking his feet up on the coffee table, "She's hot."
I rolled my eyes. We were in the Slytherin common room, otherwise known as the dungeons. I had in fact heard of her already, I didn't know anything about her, or what she looked like, but I had heard that she was to be sorted during dinner.
Which, checking around the common room to see that no one was there, I realized was right now.
I stood and walked to the Great Hall, Lestrange trailing behind me as usual. I walked into the hall and took a seat somewhere near the middle, Lestrange and Humphrey Avery, one of my fellow followers, across from me.
"Good evening, Students," Headmaster Dippet said, silence immediately falling all around the hall.
"As you are probably aware; we have a new student," He motioned to a girl standing off to the side. I looked at her, as did everyone else.
You would've expected her to retreat and turn a nasty color of scarlet, yes? No; She lifted her head and smirked holding it high.
That was the first thing I noticed, the confidence, the next thing I noticed was her shape. Even from how far away I was I could tell she was tall, curvy; the perfect hour glass. Her neck molding into her shoulders, supported by her impeccable chest, shaping into her flat stomach, curving into her succulent hips, and melting into her long, superlative legs. She was desirable to say the least.
"She's just transferred from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. Her English may be a bit off, but I have confidence that you will all treat her with the utmost of kindness." He nodded as he talked.
Half of my table snickered, knowing that would not likely be the case, especially if she was anything but a Slytherin. There was no way she'd be sorted into Hufflepuff, she didn't give off the "nice and innocent" era. Neither Ravenclaw either, she may have been smart, but her radiating confidence was too high to be sorted amongst the nerds of the school. Thus left her with Gryffindor, or Slytherin; but you're out of your mind if you think the Slytherin's will be "kind" if she's in Gryffindor, or vice versa.
If she's in blood Gryffindor she may as well be burnt at the stake.
"Very well; I believe a sorting is in order," Dippet motioned for her to come forward, she did so her head still held high.
She took a seat in the oversized chair that swallowed most first years, but she, being a fourth year, fit their perfectly.
The hat barely touched her head when it yelled out, "SLYTHERIN!"
My fellow Slytherin's cheered loudly, yelling obscenities as she got to her feet, grinning triumphantly, and marched to our table.
I stared, quite bored, though I did clap. Sorting bored me, but I was glad to have another pure Slytherin to our mix.
She walked to the middle of the table and took a seat right next to me. Which quite confused me, no one ever sat in the frequently vacant spot beside me. Not because they didn't want too, but because I didn't want them too. I stared at her blankly, everyone else's eyes on her, still cheering and shaking her hands and clapping her on the back.
She turned and smiled at me confidently showing off her snow white teeth. Up close I noticed her long dark brown, almost black, hair that fell in waves around her face to her shoulders, and down her back. Also, her eyes; Her icy blue eyes. They were cold, gave off a twinge of nuisance, making her look slightly devious.
"I'm Annabel Lefevre," she said, her voice full of the confidence her face shown with.
"Tom Riddle," I said dully.
"Nice to meet you, Tom Riddle." She had a slight French tone to her accent but otherwise her English seemed fine.
"I'm Edmond Lestrange," he said loudly. She jumped slightly and looked at him.
"'Ello Edmond Lestrange." She turned to me and opened her mouth to talk but again scoring for her attention, Edmond said loudly, "Where'ya from?"
She looked at him; her gaze turned icy, mean, slightly bitter, "Someone doesn't listen to a single word the headmaster says, he is your authority, you know. I'm from Beauxbatons. Girls' not only dislike guys who don't know how to listen but they also loath it when they interrupt. I was talking to Tom Riddle, now if you'll excuse me." She looked at me, "Would you show me where the dungeons are?"
I sighed and stood up, I leaned over the table and smacked Lestrange on the back of the head before walking out of the hall, Annabel Lefevre following after me.
I had to admit, the way she snapped on Lestrange had impressed me.
A/N: I hope my STORY impressed YOU. :D yes, this is an actual story and not a short. Originally I was going to make it a short, but there's too much information to put In one little chapter. So It won't be an extremely LONG story, (at least…not right now it won't be) but it will be alright in length. Hope you enjoyed it. (:
(Also...it pisses me off that I can't indent my paragraphs.)
Also, I'm from Ireland…so 9/11 wasn't a huge deal for me, but I had a wonderful conversation with xKaylaDianex who is from New York and was there when it happened. And I felt the need to write something, sort-of- in-some-way-but-not-really-that-much, having to do with 9/11 and death. Rofl, it makes sense in my mind.