The Totally Backwards Day in Hogwarts School
Chapter Seven: Willy Wonka and Marvelous Myrtle
It was horrible. It was gruesome. It was.. Filch.
Filch wasn't looking so glum. Quite the contrary. He had a blue jacket with tails and fancy blue trousers and a top hat. He looked just like that character in a Roald Dahl book, Willy Wonka.
Willy Wonka?!
Harry gazed open-mouthed at Filch. Filch gazed down at him smiling grandly, swinging his cane.
"The Candy-Man can!" he sang. "Who can take a rain-bowwwwww," he continued. "La-la-la-la-laaaaaaaa, (I dunno the words, only a few) The Candy-Man can! Yaay!" he looked at Harry. "Run off to class, run off to class! Always remember the candy-man can!" And he skipped off singing.
Harry looked at his watch. Only one more class, then Dinner, then bed. Today was a rough day. He walked across the hall and managed to bump into someone else. Harry looked up to see who it was. And then up some more. He backed up and squinted, a large tall figure... Could this be the real Hagrid? Harry thought. No, he asserted, it can't be, there's no beard.. Can't tell really.. Sorta foggy all the way up there.
"Er, hello, Professor, er, ah.."
"Harry!" boomed the deep voice that reminded Harry of the Verizon man in the commercials on TV. "Respect your elders! I, Professor Flitwick, assign you one detention, tonight, ten o'clock sharp in the library. You will be helping Madam Pince realphabetise the section on Potions."
"Yes, Professor," Harry said boredly. Flitwick nodded and walked away swiftly.
Harry groaned. He hadn't thought of Madam Pince yet! He wondered what she'd be like.
Half an hour until his last class, which was Defense Against the Dark Arts. They hadn't met their new teacher yet. Oh well. He didn't know what else to do. He went down to Moaning Myrtle's.
The Out-of-Order sign was still there, but when he opened the door, he wasn't quite sure that this wasn't a working bathroom like it was supposed to be. The tiles on the floor were light pink, the sinks a striking while marble and faucets of silver. The mirrors on the walls were very large with thick frames of rose quartz. The stalls were composed of a light pink porcelain and the locks were pure stainless steel of a silvery color. The walls, a swirly pink-colored stucco form. The ceiling matched the floor. Everything was so clean you could see one's face off of it.
Except, the room's noises were so different. Ah, yes. It was silence. No one was crying. He heard a faint humming in the background. He knocked gently on the only closed stall, feeling if he rapped too loudly he would disturb the peace in the bathroom.
"Yes?" a voice answered sweetly and politely.
"Er-- it's me, Harry," Harry said timidly.
The stall opened, and Moaning Myrtle stepped out.
"Moaning Myrtle?" Harry said weakly.
Moaning Myrtle looked different. She had long straight blonde hair and she was taller. She looked a whole lot prettier but positively the most noticable difference of all-- well, the second most noticable if you happen to be a boy-- is that she was smiling. "Oh, hello, Harry!" She gave him a hug. "I don't go by that name anymore, if it's all right with you," she said. "I now go by Marvelous Myrtle."
Harry looked at her, dazed. "Marvelous Myrtle," he said dreamily. He had a short vision of them skipping in a field but was brought back to earth by her call.
"Harry? Um, Harry, are you okay?" she asked.
"Oh.. yeah..." Harry said, waking up.
"How's your day been?"
He looked at her for a second deciding whether or not to tell her about his day. He decided quickly and spent the rest of the half-hour sobbing on her shoulder telling her about her day while she sat there not understanding any of the words he was speaking.
Chapter Seven: Willy Wonka and Marvelous Myrtle
It was horrible. It was gruesome. It was.. Filch.
Filch wasn't looking so glum. Quite the contrary. He had a blue jacket with tails and fancy blue trousers and a top hat. He looked just like that character in a Roald Dahl book, Willy Wonka.
Willy Wonka?!
Harry gazed open-mouthed at Filch. Filch gazed down at him smiling grandly, swinging his cane.
"The Candy-Man can!" he sang. "Who can take a rain-bowwwwww," he continued. "La-la-la-la-laaaaaaaa, (I dunno the words, only a few) The Candy-Man can! Yaay!" he looked at Harry. "Run off to class, run off to class! Always remember the candy-man can!" And he skipped off singing.
Harry looked at his watch. Only one more class, then Dinner, then bed. Today was a rough day. He walked across the hall and managed to bump into someone else. Harry looked up to see who it was. And then up some more. He backed up and squinted, a large tall figure... Could this be the real Hagrid? Harry thought. No, he asserted, it can't be, there's no beard.. Can't tell really.. Sorta foggy all the way up there.
"Er, hello, Professor, er, ah.."
"Harry!" boomed the deep voice that reminded Harry of the Verizon man in the commercials on TV. "Respect your elders! I, Professor Flitwick, assign you one detention, tonight, ten o'clock sharp in the library. You will be helping Madam Pince realphabetise the section on Potions."
"Yes, Professor," Harry said boredly. Flitwick nodded and walked away swiftly.
Harry groaned. He hadn't thought of Madam Pince yet! He wondered what she'd be like.
Half an hour until his last class, which was Defense Against the Dark Arts. They hadn't met their new teacher yet. Oh well. He didn't know what else to do. He went down to Moaning Myrtle's.
The Out-of-Order sign was still there, but when he opened the door, he wasn't quite sure that this wasn't a working bathroom like it was supposed to be. The tiles on the floor were light pink, the sinks a striking while marble and faucets of silver. The mirrors on the walls were very large with thick frames of rose quartz. The stalls were composed of a light pink porcelain and the locks were pure stainless steel of a silvery color. The walls, a swirly pink-colored stucco form. The ceiling matched the floor. Everything was so clean you could see one's face off of it.
Except, the room's noises were so different. Ah, yes. It was silence. No one was crying. He heard a faint humming in the background. He knocked gently on the only closed stall, feeling if he rapped too loudly he would disturb the peace in the bathroom.
"Yes?" a voice answered sweetly and politely.
"Er-- it's me, Harry," Harry said timidly.
The stall opened, and Moaning Myrtle stepped out.
"Moaning Myrtle?" Harry said weakly.
Moaning Myrtle looked different. She had long straight blonde hair and she was taller. She looked a whole lot prettier but positively the most noticable difference of all-- well, the second most noticable if you happen to be a boy-- is that she was smiling. "Oh, hello, Harry!" She gave him a hug. "I don't go by that name anymore, if it's all right with you," she said. "I now go by Marvelous Myrtle."
Harry looked at her, dazed. "Marvelous Myrtle," he said dreamily. He had a short vision of them skipping in a field but was brought back to earth by her call.
"Harry? Um, Harry, are you okay?" she asked.
"Oh.. yeah..." Harry said, waking up.
"How's your day been?"
He looked at her for a second deciding whether or not to tell her about his day. He decided quickly and spent the rest of the half-hour sobbing on her shoulder telling her about her day while she sat there not understanding any of the words he was speaking.
