The redheaded girl was staring at her.
It was just typical, Myrtle thought sulkily, just absolutely typical, that when she needed the privacy of her bathroom, someone would be in it. No one was ever in her bathroom- except, of course, when she needed to cry in solitude.
"What do you want?" she said, folding her translucent arms across her chest.
The small girl continued to stare at Myrtle with wide blue eyes.
"What are you staring at?" snapped Myrtle, angry tears welling up in her eyes. "Do I have a stain on my shirt? Lettuce on my glasses? Spinach in my teeth?"
"How can you have spinach in your teeth if you're a ghost?" said the girl. "Ghosts can't eat things."
"Well, that's just insensitive!" said Myrtle. She felt the urge to stomp her foot, but stomping as a ghost wasn't nearly as satisfying as she would have liked. She settled on more tears. "Talking to me about eating! How rude! It's bad enough that Peeves was making fun of me, again, and now this!"
"You don't have a stain on your shirt, you know," said the girl, who looked both confused and fascinated by Myrtle's tears. "So you can stop crying now."
"Stop crying!" Her voice rose to a wail. "I've had enough of people rudely barging into my bathroom and interrupting me!" With that, she whirled around, flung herself through the stall, and hurtled into the toilet, straight towards the U-bend.
Rose Weasley, still standing alone in the bathroom, watched her go with wide eyes.
These Hogwarts ghosts are just as crazy as Dad said, she decided.