Chapter 6: Myrtle
"But why?" Angelina asked, softly, as she walked next to Chanse.
"I don't know," Chanse sighed, "All it says is that his parents think he shouldn't be here at Hogwarts."
"That's just..." Angelina searched her head for the right words, "That's just...I don't know how to put it." Angelina sighed, very frustrated.
Chanse pushed out a breath and looked at Angelina, "Well the bright side of it is that he's not dead." Chanse faintly smirked, trying to remain happy.
Angelina looked up at Chanse in shock, and then studied her face. Angelina looked into Chanse's eyes, which were like windows to her soul and feelings. She saw that Chanse badly wanted Oliver to be with her, but she couldn't have him. She saw that Chanse wanted to yell at someone, or cry, or go to Oliver, at least be able to do something.
Angelina slid her hand over Chanse's and laughed, "Yeah, and maybe he'll come in for Quidditch or something."
"Yeah." Chanse forced a smile.
"OR...everyone who is signed with a professional Quidditch team, as a reserve, goes with the team and tested along with the other reserves, for a reserve spot of the team."
"So?" Chanse asked.
"So, that means if Oliver signed with Puddlemere United, and you did too, then you two will see each other some time."
"Yeah." Chanse said a little excited, but still sad.
"Well because of what happened with Oliver, I'm going to cancel Quidditch tryouts for the day, and go off of what Alicia, George, and Fred say about who should be our next Chaser," Angelina smiled, as she started to walk back in the room, with Chanse walking behind her, "and that means since Oliver's not on the team anymore, you are our new Keeper."
Angelina grabbed her clipboard off of her dresser, "Thanks." Chanse sighed, a little irritated that she was just handed the position.
The two girls grabbed their brooms and walked through the Commons Room...
Chanse saw Liz, Emily, and Kirstyn sitting in the corner playing wizard's chess, and Kirstyn seemed to be beating Emily, while Liz cast spells on her chess pieces, to put them back together.
Chanse followed behind Angelina as they walked out of the portal and Commons Room, and down the rotating stairs.
Chanse carefully stared at the ground as she followed behind Angelina, to the Quidditch pitch...
"Team!" Angelina yelled up to Seamus, Dean, Ron, George, Fred, and Alicia.
They stopped flying around and quickly plunged to the ground, pressing their feet against the grass, and dismounted their brooms.
"Where's the Quaffles, Angie?" George smirked.
"There's not going to be any quaffles." Angelina sighed, as she saw, out of the corner of her eye, Chanse looked down at the ground.
"Everything ok Angelina?" Fred asked, as he took a step towards her.
"Yeah." She sighed.
Chanse slowly closed her eyes, and took a deep breath in, trying, with all her might, to push her tears back, behind her eyes.
"Chanse you alright?" George asked.
Chanse slowly opened her eyes, still looking at the ground, she whispered a response, "Yeah I'm fine."
"You sure?"
Chanse slid her hands over her mouth and a sighed, trying her, absolute hardest, to push back her tears, "I'm sure."
"Because you don't look like you are."
Chanse's hands dropped down and Chanse looked up, sharply, at George, "Well I am, ok?" Chanse snapped.
The Gryffindor team looked around at each other, in shock, at Chanse blowing up at George.
"Angelina I'll talk to you later." Chanse whispered, as she picked her broom up off the ground, and quickly walked towards the exit.
"What's wrong with Chanse?" Ron asked, as the team nodded, in agreement.
"The same reason why Quidditch practice is cancelled," Angelina sighed, as the team's jaws dropped.
"But what about try-outs?" Alicia whined.
"We're going off of what we saw today."
"What would Oliver say if he knew you cancelled try-outs slash practice?" Fred scolded.
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" Fred scoffed.
"Nothing."
Harry pushed his way in between the Weasley twins, "Why's my sister sad?"
"Oliver." Angelina sighed.
"What about him?" Dean asked.
Angelina whispered, "I don't want to say until Chanse is out of the stadium."
Chanse shuffled her feet out of the exit, and ducked behind the corner and listened carefully as to what Angelina said. "Oliver's transferred to Durmstrang, by the will of his parents..." Angelina's voice trailed off.
"But why?" Ron gasped.
"No one knows," Angelina sighed, "only Kyla, Maxwell, and Oliver know why I bet."
"And Dumbledore." George added.
"He might not even know," Angelina corrected, "but all I know is that Chanse doesn't know."
Chanse tuned out the team, as her body became heavy, and sank down to the cold grass of the ground. She pulled her knees to her chest and cried softly onto them, letting the tears roll out of her eyes, down her cheek, and onto to her clothes...leaving a small wet spot of her knees, from her tears.
"Chanse?" a softly voice came form above Chanse.
Chanse looked up and saw Angelina and the rest of the Gryffindor team, standing around her.
"You guys go back to the Commons Room," Angelina whispered as she bent down to Chanse, "we'll continue our meeting there."
Chanse watched as the team took one last glance at Chanse, and exited the Quidditch stadium. Her eyes stayed on the spot where the team, used to stand, and then they slowly looked down at the ground.
Chanse slowly closed her eyes, and blinked a tear, and kept her eyes closed.
"Potter go with the rest of the team." Angelina snapped. Chanse looked up and saw Angelina in Harry's face, "I said leave." She snapped again.
"She's my fucking sister, Angelina."
"I don't care!" Angelina yelled, "You are on MY team, and when I tell you to leave, you WILL leave!"
"If I have to do that to be on YOUR team, then I quit!" Harry yelled.
"Harry you don't even know what's going on," Angelina said a little softer then before, "So I suggest you leave, so I can talk to Chanse."
"I'm not leaving her." Harry shouted.
Chanse slid her hand on her cheeks, and squeezed her head.
"I am her damn brother, and she is my fucking sister," Harry shouted, as Chanse slid her hands over her ears, to stop the sound, "I'm not leaving her!" Harry, sternly, spoke.
Chanse took in a deep breath, and pushed it out with all her might, and pulled her hands off of her ears, and pressed one of them against the ground, and the other one on top of the handle of her broom. She gripped her broom and pushed her body up.
"Stop fighting." Chanse whispered, form behind Angelina.
Angelina turned around to Chanse, and saw her eyes dried, and looked as if they couldn't cry anymore, but filled with a mixture of emotions.
"Chanse?" Harry whispered.
"Stop fighting." Chanse whispered a little louder.
Angelina looked down at the ground, and then looked up at Harry, who was already looking at her. Harry and Angelina looked back at Chanse, "I don't want to talk about it," Chanse's eyes began to tear up, "right now...if I had my choice, all this wouldn't be happening, and everything would be normal...but, obviously, I don't have my choice, because all of this is happening."
"Chanse that's why we're trying to help you." Angelina sighed.
"By fighting?" Chanse whispered.
Chanse stared at the two teammates as tears streamed down her face. She turned her face, and wiped a tear, from her eye, as she started to walk out of the stadium.
"Chanse wait." Harry started to run after Chanse, when Angelina grabbed his arm, "Let go of me." Harry spat at Angelina, "CHANSE!" he yelled.
Chanse turned back around and looked at him, and then slowly turned her head back, and continued out of the Quidditch stadium.
"Let go of me, Angelina."
"Harry," Angelina whispered, as she watched Chanse disappear out of the stadium, "just let her be."
"But she needs me." Harry tugged.
"Do you know that for a fact?" Harry stopped tugging and thought. Angelina looked at the exit of the stadium, "Some things you just have to do by yourself."
Chanse walked out into the warm sunlight, and turned her head away from it. She took in a deep breath and slowly walked back towards the Hogwarts castle.
Chanse pushed her way through a crowd of Slytherins.
"Watch it Gryffindor!" a group of first year girls yelled at Chanse.
Chanse didn't do anything she just kept walking, bumping into everyone that she could possibly bump into.
"Look where you're going!"
"Excuse you!"
"Watch it!"
Everyone seemed to be yelling at Chanse, and their words whirled around in Chanse's head, as she picked up speed, from a walk, to a jog, to a run, then to a sprint.
Chanse didn't look where she was going, she just gripped her wooden broom handle tighter and tighter as she ran faster and faster; up the front stairs, and then up the rotating stairs. Chanse ran up a flight of stairs, turned, ran up another flight, and then turned down a small corridor.
She flung open a door and ran into a cold room. She ran forward, till her hands fell upon a cold tile sink. Her eyes looked down as she watched her tears swirl around and then mix with the water, which was dripping from the silver faucet, which was dripping, slowly...drip...drip...
"Who are you?" A voice shrieked.
Chanse's eyes shot up to the mirror, and saw a young girl standing behind her. Chanse quickly turned around...
She was face-to-face with a young ghost, "Moaning Myrtle?" Chanse gasped, as small tears rolled down her face.
Myrtle's expression went from angry so sympathetic, "Did they make fun of you too?" she whispered, as she floated near Chanse.
"No," Chanse whispered, "they weren't making fun of me."
"Then why are you crying?"
Chanse looked down at the ground, and saw a small trail of water linking from the sink down to the floor, "I..." Chanse tried to think of why she was sad, "I can't explain it." Chanse looked up at Myrtle.
"I know why I moan and cry," Myrtle whined, "because of the bitch, Oliver Hornby!" Myrtle spat. "But I wouldn't expect you to know anything about pour, ugly Myrtle."
Chanse watched as Myrtle flew up in the air, and gave Chanse a nasty glare, "No one cares about ugly Myrtle."
"I care." Chanse whispered, under her breath.
"You do?" Myrtle gasped, as she flew down in front of Chanse.
"Yeah I do," Chanse slightly laughed, "Why would anyone make fun of you?"
Myrtle looked down at the ground, "because of my looks," she whined, "and..." Myrtle looked away.
"And what Myrtle?"
"My glasses." Myrtle cried.
"That's stupid," Chanse gasped, "To make fun of someone because you think they're ugly, or because of something they can't help." Chanse looked down at the ground, and stared, "I think you're beautiful." Chanse looked up at Myrtle's sad face.
"You do?"
"Yeah." Chanse smiled.
"Chanse you in here?" Someone shouted.
Chanse turned around and saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione standing in the door.
"Yeah," Chanse sighed, "I was just talking to Myrtle."
"Myrtle?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah," Chanse laughed, "you know...Moaning Myrtle?"
"She doesn't really talk to people." Hermione laughed.
"Yeah," Ron stepped forward, "She more yells at them!"
"Well I was just talking to her," Chanse smirked, "she's right," Chanse turned around, and there was an empty bathroom behind her, "here?" Chanse whispered.
Chanse looked around the bathroom, and Myrtle had disappeared, "Myrtle?" Chanse asked, "Myrtle?!" She shouted.
But there was no response.
"Well now that we know Chanse has gone insane now," Ron laughed, "and is ok, I'm going back to the Commons Room." Ron turned and walked out of the bathroom.
"Yeah." Harry laughed, as he walked to the door, "I'll see you back there Chanse."
"Ok." Chanse sighed, as she thought about Myrtle.
"I'll wait in the Commons Room," Hermione smiled, "so I can see you open your package you got."
"From who?" Chanse laughed, "My parents I bet." Chanse smirked.
"No," Hermione smirked, "It's from Bulgaria."
"Bulgaria?!" Chanse shrieked, as she jogged to Hermione.
"Yup." Hermione smirked, as she walked out of the bathroom.
A smile grew across Chanse's face as she started walking out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind her...
"Thank you Chanse." A whining voice whispered from the bathroom.
Chanse peeked her head back into the bathroom, and saw Myrtle standing in the middle of it.
Chanse watched as the young ghost faded into the air, and Chanse whispered, "You're welcome."
"But why?" Angelina asked, softly, as she walked next to Chanse.
"I don't know," Chanse sighed, "All it says is that his parents think he shouldn't be here at Hogwarts."
"That's just..." Angelina searched her head for the right words, "That's just...I don't know how to put it." Angelina sighed, very frustrated.
Chanse pushed out a breath and looked at Angelina, "Well the bright side of it is that he's not dead." Chanse faintly smirked, trying to remain happy.
Angelina looked up at Chanse in shock, and then studied her face. Angelina looked into Chanse's eyes, which were like windows to her soul and feelings. She saw that Chanse badly wanted Oliver to be with her, but she couldn't have him. She saw that Chanse wanted to yell at someone, or cry, or go to Oliver, at least be able to do something.
Angelina slid her hand over Chanse's and laughed, "Yeah, and maybe he'll come in for Quidditch or something."
"Yeah." Chanse forced a smile.
"OR...everyone who is signed with a professional Quidditch team, as a reserve, goes with the team and tested along with the other reserves, for a reserve spot of the team."
"So?" Chanse asked.
"So, that means if Oliver signed with Puddlemere United, and you did too, then you two will see each other some time."
"Yeah." Chanse said a little excited, but still sad.
"Well because of what happened with Oliver, I'm going to cancel Quidditch tryouts for the day, and go off of what Alicia, George, and Fred say about who should be our next Chaser," Angelina smiled, as she started to walk back in the room, with Chanse walking behind her, "and that means since Oliver's not on the team anymore, you are our new Keeper."
Angelina grabbed her clipboard off of her dresser, "Thanks." Chanse sighed, a little irritated that she was just handed the position.
The two girls grabbed their brooms and walked through the Commons Room...
Chanse saw Liz, Emily, and Kirstyn sitting in the corner playing wizard's chess, and Kirstyn seemed to be beating Emily, while Liz cast spells on her chess pieces, to put them back together.
Chanse followed behind Angelina as they walked out of the portal and Commons Room, and down the rotating stairs.
Chanse carefully stared at the ground as she followed behind Angelina, to the Quidditch pitch...
"Team!" Angelina yelled up to Seamus, Dean, Ron, George, Fred, and Alicia.
They stopped flying around and quickly plunged to the ground, pressing their feet against the grass, and dismounted their brooms.
"Where's the Quaffles, Angie?" George smirked.
"There's not going to be any quaffles." Angelina sighed, as she saw, out of the corner of her eye, Chanse looked down at the ground.
"Everything ok Angelina?" Fred asked, as he took a step towards her.
"Yeah." She sighed.
Chanse slowly closed her eyes, and took a deep breath in, trying, with all her might, to push her tears back, behind her eyes.
"Chanse you alright?" George asked.
Chanse slowly opened her eyes, still looking at the ground, she whispered a response, "Yeah I'm fine."
"You sure?"
Chanse slid her hands over her mouth and a sighed, trying her, absolute hardest, to push back her tears, "I'm sure."
"Because you don't look like you are."
Chanse's hands dropped down and Chanse looked up, sharply, at George, "Well I am, ok?" Chanse snapped.
The Gryffindor team looked around at each other, in shock, at Chanse blowing up at George.
"Angelina I'll talk to you later." Chanse whispered, as she picked her broom up off the ground, and quickly walked towards the exit.
"What's wrong with Chanse?" Ron asked, as the team nodded, in agreement.
"The same reason why Quidditch practice is cancelled," Angelina sighed, as the team's jaws dropped.
"But what about try-outs?" Alicia whined.
"We're going off of what we saw today."
"What would Oliver say if he knew you cancelled try-outs slash practice?" Fred scolded.
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" Fred scoffed.
"Nothing."
Harry pushed his way in between the Weasley twins, "Why's my sister sad?"
"Oliver." Angelina sighed.
"What about him?" Dean asked.
Angelina whispered, "I don't want to say until Chanse is out of the stadium."
Chanse shuffled her feet out of the exit, and ducked behind the corner and listened carefully as to what Angelina said. "Oliver's transferred to Durmstrang, by the will of his parents..." Angelina's voice trailed off.
"But why?" Ron gasped.
"No one knows," Angelina sighed, "only Kyla, Maxwell, and Oliver know why I bet."
"And Dumbledore." George added.
"He might not even know," Angelina corrected, "but all I know is that Chanse doesn't know."
Chanse tuned out the team, as her body became heavy, and sank down to the cold grass of the ground. She pulled her knees to her chest and cried softly onto them, letting the tears roll out of her eyes, down her cheek, and onto to her clothes...leaving a small wet spot of her knees, from her tears.
"Chanse?" a softly voice came form above Chanse.
Chanse looked up and saw Angelina and the rest of the Gryffindor team, standing around her.
"You guys go back to the Commons Room," Angelina whispered as she bent down to Chanse, "we'll continue our meeting there."
Chanse watched as the team took one last glance at Chanse, and exited the Quidditch stadium. Her eyes stayed on the spot where the team, used to stand, and then they slowly looked down at the ground.
Chanse slowly closed her eyes, and blinked a tear, and kept her eyes closed.
"Potter go with the rest of the team." Angelina snapped. Chanse looked up and saw Angelina in Harry's face, "I said leave." She snapped again.
"She's my fucking sister, Angelina."
"I don't care!" Angelina yelled, "You are on MY team, and when I tell you to leave, you WILL leave!"
"If I have to do that to be on YOUR team, then I quit!" Harry yelled.
"Harry you don't even know what's going on," Angelina said a little softer then before, "So I suggest you leave, so I can talk to Chanse."
"I'm not leaving her." Harry shouted.
Chanse slid her hand on her cheeks, and squeezed her head.
"I am her damn brother, and she is my fucking sister," Harry shouted, as Chanse slid her hands over her ears, to stop the sound, "I'm not leaving her!" Harry, sternly, spoke.
Chanse took in a deep breath, and pushed it out with all her might, and pulled her hands off of her ears, and pressed one of them against the ground, and the other one on top of the handle of her broom. She gripped her broom and pushed her body up.
"Stop fighting." Chanse whispered, form behind Angelina.
Angelina turned around to Chanse, and saw her eyes dried, and looked as if they couldn't cry anymore, but filled with a mixture of emotions.
"Chanse?" Harry whispered.
"Stop fighting." Chanse whispered a little louder.
Angelina looked down at the ground, and then looked up at Harry, who was already looking at her. Harry and Angelina looked back at Chanse, "I don't want to talk about it," Chanse's eyes began to tear up, "right now...if I had my choice, all this wouldn't be happening, and everything would be normal...but, obviously, I don't have my choice, because all of this is happening."
"Chanse that's why we're trying to help you." Angelina sighed.
"By fighting?" Chanse whispered.
Chanse stared at the two teammates as tears streamed down her face. She turned her face, and wiped a tear, from her eye, as she started to walk out of the stadium.
"Chanse wait." Harry started to run after Chanse, when Angelina grabbed his arm, "Let go of me." Harry spat at Angelina, "CHANSE!" he yelled.
Chanse turned back around and looked at him, and then slowly turned her head back, and continued out of the Quidditch stadium.
"Let go of me, Angelina."
"Harry," Angelina whispered, as she watched Chanse disappear out of the stadium, "just let her be."
"But she needs me." Harry tugged.
"Do you know that for a fact?" Harry stopped tugging and thought. Angelina looked at the exit of the stadium, "Some things you just have to do by yourself."
Chanse walked out into the warm sunlight, and turned her head away from it. She took in a deep breath and slowly walked back towards the Hogwarts castle.
Chanse pushed her way through a crowd of Slytherins.
"Watch it Gryffindor!" a group of first year girls yelled at Chanse.
Chanse didn't do anything she just kept walking, bumping into everyone that she could possibly bump into.
"Look where you're going!"
"Excuse you!"
"Watch it!"
Everyone seemed to be yelling at Chanse, and their words whirled around in Chanse's head, as she picked up speed, from a walk, to a jog, to a run, then to a sprint.
Chanse didn't look where she was going, she just gripped her wooden broom handle tighter and tighter as she ran faster and faster; up the front stairs, and then up the rotating stairs. Chanse ran up a flight of stairs, turned, ran up another flight, and then turned down a small corridor.
She flung open a door and ran into a cold room. She ran forward, till her hands fell upon a cold tile sink. Her eyes looked down as she watched her tears swirl around and then mix with the water, which was dripping from the silver faucet, which was dripping, slowly...drip...drip...
"Who are you?" A voice shrieked.
Chanse's eyes shot up to the mirror, and saw a young girl standing behind her. Chanse quickly turned around...
She was face-to-face with a young ghost, "Moaning Myrtle?" Chanse gasped, as small tears rolled down her face.
Myrtle's expression went from angry so sympathetic, "Did they make fun of you too?" she whispered, as she floated near Chanse.
"No," Chanse whispered, "they weren't making fun of me."
"Then why are you crying?"
Chanse looked down at the ground, and saw a small trail of water linking from the sink down to the floor, "I..." Chanse tried to think of why she was sad, "I can't explain it." Chanse looked up at Myrtle.
"I know why I moan and cry," Myrtle whined, "because of the bitch, Oliver Hornby!" Myrtle spat. "But I wouldn't expect you to know anything about pour, ugly Myrtle."
Chanse watched as Myrtle flew up in the air, and gave Chanse a nasty glare, "No one cares about ugly Myrtle."
"I care." Chanse whispered, under her breath.
"You do?" Myrtle gasped, as she flew down in front of Chanse.
"Yeah I do," Chanse slightly laughed, "Why would anyone make fun of you?"
Myrtle looked down at the ground, "because of my looks," she whined, "and..." Myrtle looked away.
"And what Myrtle?"
"My glasses." Myrtle cried.
"That's stupid," Chanse gasped, "To make fun of someone because you think they're ugly, or because of something they can't help." Chanse looked down at the ground, and stared, "I think you're beautiful." Chanse looked up at Myrtle's sad face.
"You do?"
"Yeah." Chanse smiled.
"Chanse you in here?" Someone shouted.
Chanse turned around and saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione standing in the door.
"Yeah," Chanse sighed, "I was just talking to Myrtle."
"Myrtle?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah," Chanse laughed, "you know...Moaning Myrtle?"
"She doesn't really talk to people." Hermione laughed.
"Yeah," Ron stepped forward, "She more yells at them!"
"Well I was just talking to her," Chanse smirked, "she's right," Chanse turned around, and there was an empty bathroom behind her, "here?" Chanse whispered.
Chanse looked around the bathroom, and Myrtle had disappeared, "Myrtle?" Chanse asked, "Myrtle?!" She shouted.
But there was no response.
"Well now that we know Chanse has gone insane now," Ron laughed, "and is ok, I'm going back to the Commons Room." Ron turned and walked out of the bathroom.
"Yeah." Harry laughed, as he walked to the door, "I'll see you back there Chanse."
"Ok." Chanse sighed, as she thought about Myrtle.
"I'll wait in the Commons Room," Hermione smiled, "so I can see you open your package you got."
"From who?" Chanse laughed, "My parents I bet." Chanse smirked.
"No," Hermione smirked, "It's from Bulgaria."
"Bulgaria?!" Chanse shrieked, as she jogged to Hermione.
"Yup." Hermione smirked, as she walked out of the bathroom.
A smile grew across Chanse's face as she started walking out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind her...
"Thank you Chanse." A whining voice whispered from the bathroom.
Chanse peeked her head back into the bathroom, and saw Myrtle standing in the middle of it.
Chanse watched as the young ghost faded into the air, and Chanse whispered, "You're welcome."