Disclaimer: We all have dreams, but mine will never come true. I don't and never will own the HP universe.

Chapter Three

Don't watch the clock. Do what it does. Keep going.

- Sam Levenson

After two weeks of investigating, the coroner and the five healers from St. Mungo's declared Amora Webb's death a unfortunate freak accident in spite of the protest from the professors. The Minister of Magic came to the school the following night after the case was closed to reassured the students that there was nothing to worry about. Hogwarts was safe he told them during dinner. No evil creature was lurking in the shadows looking for a student to gobble up. But nobody, not even the staff, believed the Minister. Hogwarts, home to young witches and wizards for centuries, had became an unfamiliar and terrify place.

Frustrated due to the ministry's lack of concern and worried about the safety of the students, Professors Lierre, Hellebore, and Dumbledore approached and convinced the headmaster to change the rules to protect the students. Nobody was allowed to go anywhere in the castle without another student or teacher. Breaks between classes were eliminated and curfew was moved to an half an hour after dinner. Two teachers would monitor the hallways at night, watching for any suspicious activities. All the students followed these rules without questions or complaints. In fact, they followed them a little too well. Like a herd of sheep, huge groups of students slowly traveled through the halls from class to class. They would rush to their common rooms after dinner so they wouldn't be the last person in the hallways. Nobody, not even the reckless troublemakers, dare walk the corridors after dark.

Classes were unruly and unproductive. Scared and nervous students couldn't focused on their lessons. Teachers, tired and stressed out, dealt with their classes in two different ways. Some teachers, like Professor Lierre, allowed their students get away with many offenses. Others, like Professor Haig, kept their students in consent fear. The littlest things would send them in a fury.

Rumors rapidly spread around the school. Everyone wanted to know what really happened to Amora. Was she killed by a vicious beast, murdered by someone, or committed suicide? Nobody knew. It was also whispered in every common room that Hogwarts was going to be closed down. This rumor seemed very believable. Concern parents bombarded Professor Dippet with letters and howlers asking the headmaster about the attacks or telling him that they are pulling their child out of school. Everyday, more and more students returned home. The fate of Hogwarts didn't look good.

xxxxxx

Observing the aftermath of Amora's death, James was fed up with the mortals that lived at Hogwarts. Hogwarts has always been James' favorite place to visit when he received a day off from his duties. Unnoticed, he would watch the students and the teachers go about their lives as if they were performers putting on a play just for his amusement. James was entertained by the petty fights, grand adventures, the crushing disappointments, and happy times that both young and old had experience at Hogwarts. But that was gone because of one girl.

James could understand how the idea of dying could scare everyone. He was once human himself and just like every mortal, wanted to live forever. However he wasn't a coward like them, letting terror control how he lived his life.

There was also something else that irked James about the whole situation. When Myrtle was the one slain by the basilisk, her death wasn't mourned or taken seriously like Amora's. Myrtle was found twenty-four hours later by a sixth year who wanted to use the stall. The idiotic girl didn't noticed Myrtle laying on the floor until she stepped on the corpse. Instead of sending everyone to their common rooms to be told the tragic news, Headmaster Dippet causally informed everyone about Myrtle's death during lunch like it was an announcement for Quidditch try-outs. A brief and poorly conducted investigation was performed, ruling the former ghost's death an accident to hide the fact that nobody knew what killed her. After the investigate, everything pretty much went back to normal. People were still scared for their lives and Hogwarts was threaten to be shut down, but nobody, expect for her family and a few others, gave a rat's ass about Myrtle.

Thinking about Myrtle, James wondered how he could get the old grumpy Myrtle back. The girl had taken her new friend's death badly, blaming herself for the murder. She had become lifeless: walking around in a daze, not aware about anything that happens around her. Myrtle was making zombies seem energetic.

He needed to help Myrtle grieve and sort out her feelings quickly because time was running out. Tom Riddle was going to strike again in a couple of days and if Myrtle doesn't foil his plans, everything James had worked for would go to waste. Their pact will end and James will have to kill Myrtle.

xxxxxx

James found Myrtle staring dully out the window in her empty dorm. Taking a seat next to her on the bed, James crossed his arms against his chest. If Myrtle knew he was there, she didn't show it.

"Myrtle?" the little boy said softly. The brown haired girl didn't answer him.

"You know," James said, swinging his small legs. "It's okay to be sad, but you can't let it keep you from living your life. Amora wouldn't want you moping around. She would want you to be happy."

Not receiving a reaction to his words, James jumped off the bed and walked over to the window. James sighed with impatient. He needed fast results. Reasoning with the girl wasn't going to do the job. There most be a quicker way to get the old Myrtle back, but James couldn't think of anything at the moment. Staring out the window, not noticing the beautiful sunset, James thought and thought and thought. Then it came to him. Everyone mourned differently: some cry, some tell jokes, some get angry, some pretend nothing is wrong. A little violent tantrum should get Myrtle out of her depression. He might get hurt, but it should be worth it…he hoped.

Taking a deep breath, James made his face a mask of indifferent and leaned lazily against the wall. "You know what, Myrtle?" He began. "I tried, but I can't figure out how you could be so upset over an useless human being." James glanced over and was giddy with excitement to see her tense up, hands gripping the blanket tightly. It looked like she didn't need a lot of push her to blow up.

Fighting to keep his happiness in check, James continued. "You should forget the wench. Now that's she is gone, you have nothing to worry about. Riddle had his fun. You can have the life you always dreamed of."

"How can you be so happy that she's dead?" Myrtle demeaned, glossiness in her eye melting away to reveal hurt and rage. Bolting to her feet, she grabbed James by the shirt and lifted the struggling boy up.

"Let me go," James growled fiercely.

Ignoring him, she shook him. "How can you view her death as a good thing? Why can't you understand what her death will do to everyone…and me," Myrtle shouted, tears of guilt flowing down her cheeks. "I should have been the one to die, not her. She didn't deserve to die."

"Are you telling me that you are the worthless one, Myrtle? That your life doesn't matter?" James wheedled, looking Myrtle dead in the eye.

Myrtle couldn't pull her eyes away from the boy's wide black ones. Her sorrow was slipping away as calmness replaced the grief. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

" Ridding your soul of these annoying emotions so I can speak to a sane person," he said. "Answer me, Myrtle. Is Amora's life worth more then yours?"

With no hesitation, Myrtle answered," Yes."

"Why?"

"She's a better person then I will ever be. Amora has so much to offer the world. Compared to her, I'm nothing," she said. Her body was shaking violently.

"Relax or you're going to collapse," James commanded sternly. Myrtle dropped him and slumped against the wall. Cradling her head in her trembling hand, Myrtle began sob. James went to the sobbing girl and cuddled against her.

"Not what I expected, but it still works," he muttered to himself.

"I-I-I-I-"

"Myrtle, it's not your fault," James said.

"Yes it-it-it is," she sobbed, looking at him. Taking a yellow hankie out of his pocket, James gently wiped Myrtle's face with care.

"There are two people to blame and your not one of them."

"Who should I blame then?"

"Tom Riddle… and me." James looked away.

Myrtle shook her head in disbelief. "You?"

"Yes me. I sent you back in time without telling you the risks. I knew someone had to die to take your place," James answered truthfully, stuffing the handkerchief into his pocket. He rose to his feet and stretched his aching body.

"Why did you do it?" Myrtle asked him, wiping her runny nose with her sleeve.

Large, black eyes meet watery, blue ones. "I didn't like how the future unfolded. You're the only one who could equal Riddle in power and defeat him without the cost of some many lives."

"Me?" Myrtle laughed bitterly. You got the wrong person."

"No, I don't. You have potential to be a great witch, Myrtle. You just have some minor faults that keep you from being the best."

Rubbing her swollen, red-rimmed eyes, Myrtle got unsteadily to her feet. She went to her trunk to find a clean uniform to wear. Pulling out a skirt, she said," What happens to a person when they die and don't become a ghost?"

"Can't tell you that, but I swear on Atropus' scissors that Amora is moving onto greater things," James said kindly.

Wiping a stray tear from her face, Myrtle said, "Life blows."

"Not all the time," James remained her. "So what's the game plan? Tom is going to cause some trouble very soon."

"What kind of trouble?"

James rolled his eyes. "You have to do most of the work by yourself. That was the deal. Besides, you already have a good idea what it is. Just think about it."

"Okay," she said, taking off her pajamas. To give her some privates, James picked up a book that was laying on the floor and read it.

When she was finished putting on her uniform, Myrtle said, "Let's go, James."

"Where to?" James chirped.

"Headmaster's office. I have something to do before I can focus on Tom."

"Right behind ya."

James waited for Myrtle to leave the room before he skipped over to the nightstand by Myrtle's bed. Opening the drawer, he took out the alarm clock. The once pretty clock was badly damaged. It's face was cracked, the frame was dented in several places with blue paint flaking off, and the silk cord was missing.

"She beat you good," James murmured, stroking the ruin clock. The clock wiggling in his hands, ringing weakly.

"I promise next time you return to this realm you can be a grandfather clock. Now, run along now and say hi to Lachersis for me." The alarm clock gave a metallic chirp and disappeared. Whistling, James ran to catch up with Myrtle.

99999

"That's a interesting idea, Miss Dermot," Professor Dippet said. "However I believe at this time it isn't a practical thing we can do."

Restraining herself from banging her head on the headmaster's desk, Myrtle shifted in her chair. She had been at the headmaster's office for an hour, struggling to convince Professor Dippet to allow a memorial service for Amora to be held and she hadn't gotten nowhere. When she first had arrived, Myrtle spent forty-five minutes presuving the feeble wizard that she didn't walk here alone ( she did actually do just that) and still got chastise for being out after curfew. She just wanted to have a memorial service and the headmaster was being difficult.

"Professor, countless of students admired and loved Amora. This would give them a change to say good-bye and help them grieve," she reasoned with him.

"All good points, but with all that has happen, I think that the students are not ready to face the fact that Miss Webb is never coming back."

"You just don't want to planned the event, you lazy ,insensitive prick," James said, jumping onto the headmaster's desk and making moose antlers with his hands, stuck his tongue at Professor Dippet. Covering her mouth with her hand, Myrtle masked her giggles as coughing.

"Are you alright?" Professor Dippet asked her in concern.

"Yes," Myrtle replied. "Professor, I am willing to arrange the whole thing if I have your approval."

"I could help Myrtle, Professor," said someone behind Myrtle. Turning in her seat, Myrtle saw the person she hated most in the universe was only a few feet from her.

"I have a sudden urge to kick Riddle in the balls. Do you think you'll get blamed for it?" James inquired, eyeballing the handsome prefect.

"Don't you dare," Myrtle muttered under her breath as Tom sat down. James shrugged his shoulder and took a seat on the desk, legs dangling over the edge. Myrtle was surprise to see a worried look on the boy's usually calm face. Unconsciously Tom started to fidget and his hand was tugging on his sleeve. In the future, this boy will kill hundreds of people in the name of purity of blood. It was strange to see him acting like a normal, nervous teenager.

"Ah, Tom. I have been expecting you. Give me a few more minutes with Miss Dermot and then we can talk about your letter," Professor Dippet said, picking up the letter and placing it back on his desk.

"Sir, I know it's none of my business, but I agree with Myrtle," Tom said, giving Myrtle a nod. " Everyone is so wrapped up in their sorrow that nobody knows what to do anymore and nothing is getting accomplished. Exams are almost upon us and nobody has even started to prepare. Having this memorial service could be a great way for students and teachers express their sadness in a positive way. And like I said before, I could help Myrtle plan it."

Myrtle sat there in disbelief. Tom Riddle wanted to help her arranged a memorial service for someone he killed. Myrtle narrowed her eyes at the prefect. Myrtle would bet her life that he wasn't remorseful for attacking students and murdering one of them. He was up to something, but what?

Professor Dippet leaned back in his chair, folding his hands on his stomach. "Hmmm…you do have a point, my boy. Alright, you can have the memorial service, however it's your two responsibility to have everything organized by…" Professor summoned a calendar with a flick of his wand and studied it. "June twenty-second."

"Maybe I'll kick the headmaster where the sun don't shine instead of Riddle. You been begging the man to allow you to have the memorial service and Tom just waltz right in and Professor Dippet is all for it," James complained. "Well, fu-"

Myrtle kicked the desk hard, pitching James head first off the desk. "Sorry about that, Sir. My leg was falling asleep," Myrtle said.

"No harm done, Miss Dermot. If you just wait outside, I'll have Professor Slughorn walk you back to the Ravenclaw tower," said the headmaster.

"Goodnight, sir…Tom." Myrtle with a pouting James left the office and down the stair, not waiting for the head of Slytherin to escort her.

"What's your deal? They can't see me," James complained as they walked down the dim hallway.

"Yeah, but they can see me. If you do something stupid who do you think they're going to blame?" Myrtle snapped.

James replied by sticking his tongue out. Not in the mood to deal with James' childish behavior, Myrtle decided to change the subject . "That was weird," Myrtle mused.

"What was weird?" James asked, still sulking.

"Tom. He seemed so-so-so normal. And what's up with him wanting to help me?"

"I don't know what's he trying to achieve with the memorial service, but I do know something about the letter. Even if is he is one messed-up dude, he still is at the present human. He's afraid that Professor Dippet won't let him stay at Hogwarts over the summer. Of course, his worst fear will come true. Because of his pet snake, it wouldn't be safe for him to spend the summer at Hogwarts," James said, clapping his hands gleefully.

"You mean the letter…"

"Yup. Tom wrote a tear- jerking letter to the headmaster pleading to let him live at Hogwarts."

"What about his parents? Why wouldn't he want to go home?" Myrtle asked.

James sobered up at her questions. "His mother is dead and his father doesn't even know he exists."

"Oh, how sad," Myrtle said.

"You're going soft on me, are you?" the little boy accused, stopping and placing his hands on his hips.

"No, of course- Do you hear that?"

James listened. "Sounds like footsteps."

"Oh, no! There's no place to hide," Myrtle said, fighting back panic. She couldn't work on the memorial service if she was in detention for the rest of the year.

"Confront whoever is coming," James said.

"Are you crazy? It could be a teacher!"

"Have a little faith in me, Myrtle."

Before Myrtle could retort or think of something to hide herself, the person who was making the footsteps came into view. Inching slowly towards the staircase that plunged down into the dungeon was a boy. He was shockingly huge both in width and height. His black eyes shone with unease and determination in the torchlight.

"What are you doing here?" Myrtle found herself asking.

The boy froze, looking guiltily at the girl. "Nothin'"

"You shouldn't be out after curfew," Mytrle told him. "It's dangerous."

" What 'bout you?" the boy said. D'yeh have a reason fer bein' out?"

"I was just at the headmaster's office. Come on, you can walk me back to my common room," Myrtle said linking arms with the protesting boy and pulling him away from the entrance to the dungeon.

"I'll leave you two love bird alone," James said, winking at Myrtle. He disappeared in a blink of an eye. Myrtle decided that the next time she saw the strange little boy, she was going to give him a good thump on the head.

They walked in silence, Myrtle pondering and the large boy sulking. The black haired boy looked familiar, but Myrtle couldn't recall his name. Why was he tip-toeing around the school at night Myrtle wondered. Maybe he was one of Riddle's goons? Myrtle spotted the Gryffindor crest on the boy's robes, throwing out her theory.

"What's you name?" Myrtle asked her reluctant companion.

"Hagrid," he grumbled.

The name clicked in her mind, bringing froth memories from a past life. Hagrid was a third year Gryffindor student when Myrtle died and was expelled at the end of this school year. For what, Myrtle couldn't remember. What she did recall was he was allowed to stay at Hogwarts and became the school's groundkeeper and keeper of the keys. Myrtle had a weird feeling that she was forgetting something important about the boy.

"Myrtle? Hagrid? What are you two doing out so late?"

"Professor Dumbledore, sir," Hagrid greeted Professor Dumbledore, a smile on his face. Unlike Myrtle who was freaking out, he was calm and seemed happy to the auburn haired man. " We were…"

"Coming from Professor Dippet's office. We approached the headmaster about a memorial service for Amora," Myrtle finished for him.

Professor studied the two students with his twinkling blue eyes. Whether he believed them or not, Mytrle didn't know, but he returned Hagrid's smile. "What an excellent idea. What did Professor Dippet say?"

"He agreed as long as we did all the planning and setting up. Tom Riddle is also helping out." Myrtle said.

Professor Dumbledore had a thoughtful expression on his face. "It's pleases me to see three fine students taking an interest in their school and those who attend it. If you need any help with anything, come see me," Professor Dumbledore said. "And now I think it's time you two got to bed." Professor Dumbledore escorted the two students to their common rooms.

Not much to say about this chapter, expected that it was a pain to write, but still fun to write. There is actually a plot coming together now. - What will happen, not even I know. Reviews are amazing and makes this writer happy. So reveiw.

Until next time,

The Good Witch of Dark Magic