Another Hat Tossed Into The Ring

"Things are definitely not good." Hermione said to herself as she climbed up the stairs back to the Gryffindor Tower. She shook her head, trying to straighten out her thoughts. But everything had been shaken apart and she didn't know what to think anymore.

Harry was angry and grieving, Ron was still trying to pursue her, and she didn't know how to feel about that. Harry was angry and she was afraid to admit that he might have become violent if she hadn't left the Hospital Wing. His words had hurt her and she didn't know what to do about it.

For a brief moment Hermione had been flattered by Ron's words. For a brief moment she could see what he was offering and she wanted it. She wanted someone to talk to, someone to be by her, and to make her laugh to make her feel happy. That had been Harry, before. Now...

Hermione shook her head. She didn't know what he was now? To call what they had a relationship was a laugh, one date and then nothing but anger and avoidance. If things hadn't changed, then it would have probably worked. Hermione sighed. Was that the only reason she kept on? That if he wasn't grieving, then they could be together?

Hermione stopped on the stairs and snorted. Here she was, thinking about petty things like relationships and who liked who, when several floors down Harry, her best friend, was racked by the guilt, the pain, and the torment that was his life. What did these little things matter? She shook her head and continued up the stairs.

But the thought kept nagging her. She refused to think on it anymore. Harry was what mattered now. He was hurting and he needed her help. The small problems of who liked who and who had what feelings could be worked out afterward. Hermione nodded to herself, that was logical.

"Hermione Granger." A voice spoke.

Hermione gasped in surprise, dropping her books. She turned around and faced Myrtle. She was floating a few inches off the stairs and staring at Hermione, a strange look upon her face.

"Oh, Hi, Myrtle." Hermione said, smiling weakly.

"What are you doing?"

Hermione shrugged. "Going back to the dorms." She responded.

Myrtle was quiet for a moment. "I hear you're dating Harry."

Hermione sighed. Not this again, she thought. "What does it matter to you?' She asked, folding her arms across her chest. She stared at Myrtle defiantly.

Myrtle frowned deeply. "What does it matter to me? It matters a lot, Granger. If you know what's best, then you'll leave him alone." She said, hovering inches from her face.

Hermione frowned; she was getting tired of people making threats. Wasn't there any other way to make your point without adding violence to it? "Look, Myrtle." Hermione snapped. "This has nothing to do with you. And what I do is none of your business, the same with Harry."

If she had been flesh and blood, and not translucent and wispy, Hermione could tell Myrtle would have been flushing with anger. As it was her glare and the snarl upon her face was more than enough to indicate it. Hermione took an unconscious step back, hitting her heel upon a step.

"You leave him alone." Myrtle snapped.

"Why?" Hermione shouted back. She would not be intimidated by anyone, especially an annoying ghost.

"He's mine!" Myrtle cried. "He's mine and no one else's!"

Hermione just stared at her in shock. "He's yours?"

"Yes." Myrtle hissed.

Hermione didn't know why, she couldn't help herself. She could understand why Ginny was interested in Harry, or any other girl, but Myrtle? She's a ghost! Hermione laughed. "You're dead, Myrtle! How can anything happen between you and Harry?" She knew they were the wrong words to say once they left her mouth.

Myrtle's face contorted into rage and her hands turned to fists. She opened her mouth and only a loud piercing scream of rage and anger poured out. Hermione stumbled back, gaping in shock. Then Myrtle attacked her.

Hermione had never felt anything like it before. She had no words to describe it, no way of explaining it. Myrtle's hands entered her midsection and chest, a vast cold filled Hermione. She felt as if someone was gripping her soul and turning it to ice. It was a vast cold and a sudden searing flash of pain. She let out a scream, but it was nothing compared to the torrent of rage spilling out of Myrtle's non-existent mouth.

Hermione stumbled to the floor, trying to breath and trying flee, but her legs were jelly and her body was shaking badly form the attack. The last thing she remembered was Myrtle's face still contorted in rage and someone screaming her name. Then it was all darkness.