Luckily for the fifth year Gryffindor the boys bathroom was unoccupied, so he took out his frustration on his wet black robe, twisting and squeezing the garment as water fell onto the floor. He wished he knew why he was picked on. Why couldn't they pick on James or Sirius? Why couldn't they just leave him alone. Tears threatened to blind him again as he heard a small sound. He darted into the nearest stall so he wouldn't have share his grief.
"You don't have to hide Peter, its only me," Came a sad, moping kind of voice. Peter peeked out of his stall to see a girl ghost hovering above the floor, her eyes shimmered with the shine of tears she could never finish shedding.
"Oh, it's you, Myrtle," He said softly. She gave a smile, but it still looked sad and forced. Peter and the ghost talked a lot. He liked to think they were friends, since they had so much in common, other than the fact that she was dead.
"I saw what that nasty boy did to you," She said, "It was so mean. I used to shoved in the fountain too," Tears began to brim and usually Peter would try to comfort her, but his heart had grown a little colder.
"They'll always shove people like us into fountains. They'll always hate us because they think their better," He gave his robes one last squeeze wishing so hard that it was Lucuis Malfoy's neck he held. Then he stopped and stared at his reflection in the puddle on the floor. "I wish someone would teach them a lesson. He Who Must Not Be Named taught the half-bloods to fear and now the high bloods think their immune,"
"Oh, Peter, you so brave!" Myrtle said in a half coo. She did a little Loop to loop in the air and Peter held out his hands in confusion.
"What are you talking about Myrtle, I didn't volunteer," Peter protested when something small and smooth feel into his palm, "what?"
It was a ring, a small, plain, gold ring. Myrtle floated down and came nose to nose with him.
"Do you like it?" She asked intently. Peter took a step back nearly falling into the toilet behind him.
"Yes, it pretty," He said and fingered the ring's surface, "But where did you get it?"
"I found it, at the bottom of the lake," She said, looking rather proud of herself. "I thought it would make you feel better,"
"It does, but-"
"But?" She asked looking on the verge of tears again and several laughing voices made Peter remember, "But I have to get back to class. Thank you, Myrtle,"
"Anytime Peter," She said softly and dove into toilet behind him, splashing him with water.
Peter gave a yelp, and look in disbelief at his wet robes. He felt anger well up but then it subsided as he remembered the trinket in his hand. He stared at it, intrigued.
"It does make me feel better," He murmured and continued to inspect it all the way back to Transfiguration class.
McGonagall looked at Peter in disbelief as he entered the class, robes dripping more than when he had left. The rest of class was busily trying to turn pin cushions into hedgehogs.
"Pettigrew, my desk, please," She said in a thin sort of voice. The boy's daydreamed look vanish and he approached her as a child might a scolding parent. She folded her hands on her desk and looked over her square spectacles at him. "Peter, I thought you were going to the bathroom to dry off,"
"I did," He said softly and her eyes widen as an involuntary scoff escaped her lips.
"Pettigrew, your soaking wet, I don't like being lied to, now tell me where you went," She said impatiently.
"I went to boy's room and dried off, but Myrtle was there and she soaked me," He said quickly, deciding it best not to mention the ring.
"If she did then why didn't you stay there and dry off again?"
"I . . . " Peter stared at his feet, "I don't know," He muttered.
"Well. Five points from gryffindor, maybe that will teach you not to lie,"
Peter looked up from his shoes in alarm, "but I didn't . . . !"
McGonagall shook her head as she went to sorting paper, obviously done with him, "honestly, Peter, you were the last person I expected anything like this from. I think you should stop hanging out with Sirius and get your priorities straighten, now take your seat,"
"But, Professor!" Peter exclaimed and McGonagall fixed a hard glare on him.
"Pettigrew, either you come clean and tell me the truth, or you take your seat or I will deduct another ten points," She said firmly.
Peter exhaled sharply from his nose and turned and walked to his seat where both James and Sirius were displaying their perfectly transformed hedgehogs. Peter angrily pointed his wand at his pin cushion and it exploded in a cloud of cotton and needles flew everywhere. Students squealed and dove for cover.
When it was clear no one was hurt, McGonagall pointed at the door.
"OUT, PETTIGREW!" She barked.
