Talking With Myrtle
"Myrtle?" Harry said out loud, his voice echoing in the empty restroom. He squinted in the half-light, and then pulled out his wand. "Lumos." He muttered, the tip of his wand flared to life.
"Boo!" Myrtle screeched inches from Harry's face. Harry let out a yelp and staggered back, bumping roughly into a washbasin and nearly falling. Myrtle cackled at him, flying around the restroom.
"Damn it, Myrtle." Harry cursed, picking up his wand off the floor.
"You should have seen your face." Myrtle cackled. "Oh, that was so good."
Harry just glared at her. "I need to ask you some questions." He said, leaning against the washbasin.
Myrtle stopped laughing, her face becoming serious. "What?" She demanded.
"What was I doing here the other day? What happened." He asked.
Myrtle looked at him appraisingly. "You don't remember?" She asked.
"No. That potion I was making. What was it, what was it meant to do?" He demanded.
"What do you remember?"
"Nothing. I don't remember ever coming here. I don't' remember ever brewing the damn thing. I don't remember portions of my life. This man named Sirius Black, my parents, someone name Cedric, and a whole lot of other things." Harry began pacing, shaking his head and clenching his fists.
"You shouldn't have let it boil over. I told you to stir it." Myrtle suddenly said.
Harry stopped pacing and looked at her. "What?"
"The potion. You were only supposed to let it simmer, but you were arguing with the others and it boiled over. Not the best thing to do." She said.
"Tell me what happened." Harry said through gritted teeth.
Myrtle sighed dramatically. "Fine." She sniffed and settled upon the floor, floating inches above the tile. "You came here asking about dead people and ghosts. About what happens after you die and such things. I told you I didn't know anything about it." She glared at Harry. "You wouldn't listen and kept badgering me about it, plus you looked so sad. You were weeping about this Sirius Black and I said I knew how you could get over the pain, the hurt, and all that."
"The potion." Harry said.
Myrtle nodded. "Fifty years I've been in this school, you don't think I've seen plenty of potions brewed? I may be dead, but I'm not stupid. I still remember things."
"What was the potion?" Harry demanded.
"I'm getting to it." Myrtle snapped. "Eximo Dolor. That's what I showed you how to make. A potion that's supposed to ease you suffering, make hard edges of your suffering soft and the pain fade away. Not everyone knows that potion." Myrtle smiled. "I do though. I watched as Professor Kinder used it after his wife died. A terrible woman, in death and life."
"Then what happened? Why did I lose my memories instead?" Harry asked.
"The potion exploded. You forgot to stir it, it blew up and who knows what it made."
Harry sat down upon the floor, staring off into space.
"I don't see why you're worried about it, anyway." Myrtle said. "You lost your memories, but from what you said they weren't good memories. I should be so lucky; do you know that everyday I remember how I died? Every hurt and wrong everyone did to me while I was living and while I was dead!" Myrtle began crying, high-pitched squeals and sobbing.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, ignoring her sobbing.
Myrtle suddenly stopped crying, looking at him. "You don't remember all the hurtful things or the painful things in your life. You're not burdened with those memories. Look at yourself now. Three days ago you were slouching around the castle, weeping in your sleep, and talking to no one."
"How did you know I cried in my sleep?" Harry asked.
Myrtle only smiled. "My point is, look at yourself. You smile, you've laughed, you've stood up for yourself, and you're not moping around. What did these memories do for you, but cause you grief and pain? You're far better without them than you are with them."
Harry was quiet for a moment, then he laughed suddenly. "I can't believe it, but you're actually making sense.' He said.
Myrtle nodded. "Of course I am. The memories you lost were only memories that scarred you, now you're free of them. No more nightmares, no more crying, just a clean slate."
Harry nodded. "You're right. I don't need those memories. I don't even know who those people were anyway." Harry stood up and began walking to the door. "Thanks for your help, Myrtle." He said, sincerely.
"Don't be a stranger, Harry. My restroom's always open to you." She said, giggling.
"Myrtle?" Harry said out loud, his voice echoing in the empty restroom. He squinted in the half-light, and then pulled out his wand. "Lumos." He muttered, the tip of his wand flared to life.
"Boo!" Myrtle screeched inches from Harry's face. Harry let out a yelp and staggered back, bumping roughly into a washbasin and nearly falling. Myrtle cackled at him, flying around the restroom.
"Damn it, Myrtle." Harry cursed, picking up his wand off the floor.
"You should have seen your face." Myrtle cackled. "Oh, that was so good."
Harry just glared at her. "I need to ask you some questions." He said, leaning against the washbasin.
Myrtle stopped laughing, her face becoming serious. "What?" She demanded.
"What was I doing here the other day? What happened." He asked.
Myrtle looked at him appraisingly. "You don't remember?" She asked.
"No. That potion I was making. What was it, what was it meant to do?" He demanded.
"What do you remember?"
"Nothing. I don't remember ever coming here. I don't' remember ever brewing the damn thing. I don't remember portions of my life. This man named Sirius Black, my parents, someone name Cedric, and a whole lot of other things." Harry began pacing, shaking his head and clenching his fists.
"You shouldn't have let it boil over. I told you to stir it." Myrtle suddenly said.
Harry stopped pacing and looked at her. "What?"
"The potion. You were only supposed to let it simmer, but you were arguing with the others and it boiled over. Not the best thing to do." She said.
"Tell me what happened." Harry said through gritted teeth.
Myrtle sighed dramatically. "Fine." She sniffed and settled upon the floor, floating inches above the tile. "You came here asking about dead people and ghosts. About what happens after you die and such things. I told you I didn't know anything about it." She glared at Harry. "You wouldn't listen and kept badgering me about it, plus you looked so sad. You were weeping about this Sirius Black and I said I knew how you could get over the pain, the hurt, and all that."
"The potion." Harry said.
Myrtle nodded. "Fifty years I've been in this school, you don't think I've seen plenty of potions brewed? I may be dead, but I'm not stupid. I still remember things."
"What was the potion?" Harry demanded.
"I'm getting to it." Myrtle snapped. "Eximo Dolor. That's what I showed you how to make. A potion that's supposed to ease you suffering, make hard edges of your suffering soft and the pain fade away. Not everyone knows that potion." Myrtle smiled. "I do though. I watched as Professor Kinder used it after his wife died. A terrible woman, in death and life."
"Then what happened? Why did I lose my memories instead?" Harry asked.
"The potion exploded. You forgot to stir it, it blew up and who knows what it made."
Harry sat down upon the floor, staring off into space.
"I don't see why you're worried about it, anyway." Myrtle said. "You lost your memories, but from what you said they weren't good memories. I should be so lucky; do you know that everyday I remember how I died? Every hurt and wrong everyone did to me while I was living and while I was dead!" Myrtle began crying, high-pitched squeals and sobbing.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, ignoring her sobbing.
Myrtle suddenly stopped crying, looking at him. "You don't remember all the hurtful things or the painful things in your life. You're not burdened with those memories. Look at yourself now. Three days ago you were slouching around the castle, weeping in your sleep, and talking to no one."
"How did you know I cried in my sleep?" Harry asked.
Myrtle only smiled. "My point is, look at yourself. You smile, you've laughed, you've stood up for yourself, and you're not moping around. What did these memories do for you, but cause you grief and pain? You're far better without them than you are with them."
Harry was quiet for a moment, then he laughed suddenly. "I can't believe it, but you're actually making sense.' He said.
Myrtle nodded. "Of course I am. The memories you lost were only memories that scarred you, now you're free of them. No more nightmares, no more crying, just a clean slate."
Harry nodded. "You're right. I don't need those memories. I don't even know who those people were anyway." Harry stood up and began walking to the door. "Thanks for your help, Myrtle." He said, sincerely.
"Don't be a stranger, Harry. My restroom's always open to you." She said, giggling.