Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter.
By Mizz Moony Luver
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January 21st
THE CHOSEN ONE HAS TRIUMPHED!
The headline was simple and effective, plastered all around the wizarding world. The ghostly mists of war had not yet dissipated the overcast clouds rarely parted. Yet despite the disheartening weather or the heavy rain which was currently coming down in torrents, the collective optimism of the masses was infectious, even amidst the broken ruins of there lives they found something to cling to, a better future.
Moaning Myrtle however thought that nature was reflecting the way she felt perfectly. It had begun as a thought, shameless and fleeting. It had blossomed into a morbid fantasy, and the vision was always different, spinning itself into a complex pattern of selfish hopes and arrogant prayers so beautiful that even Aragog would have envied her cobweb of deluded dreams. Without her noticing her innocent flights of fancy had turned into an obsession, no sooner had he left school after sixth year to destroy Voldemort with his friends had she began to formulate a plan.
Oh, the list of scenarios was endless, the prospect of spending her dismal eternity with the man she had loved and watched for years made every particle of her post-human consciousness tingle with anticipation. She imagined Voldemort, his malevolence seeping from his being infecting the air; in Myrtles mind-eye he pointed his wand at her would-be-lovers heart. Two repugnant words would slid from his mouth, there would be a flash of green light, his body would fall gracefully his eyes closed, his last breath warming his lips and his face oddly tranquil. He would join her though; his silver apparition sliding out of his body would be blown by astral winds back to Hogwarts and at her side at last.
Alas it would not be, Moaning Myrtle knew this in her silentheart that his own heart was still beating and his limbs were flushed with heat that she would never again possess. His picture was in the prophet, along with his two other friends (how she despised that Granger!) He had lived. The sentence made her toes curl with frustration and her eyes grow moist with unsubstantial tears.
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Gliding past a door Myrtle caught a few words of a lively conversation taking place within.
"-will be returning to complete there seventh year." said Professor McGonagall.
"Oh thats wonderful! Wonderful! Granger was always my best student! I'm glad her value of education has rubbed off on the other two!" Flitwick chirped, rather obnoxiously.
Myrtle was breathing hard useless breaths then she made a sound she had not made in what seemed like forever, it was laughter, but it wasnt the pleasant infectious kind but rather mirthless and scheming. She flew through the endless labyrinth of hallways and classroom, all she needed now was to get Peeves to cooperate, it was no mean feat but Myrtle was motivated, nothing could deter her from her plan.
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Harry, Ron and Hermione were battle weary. War was brutal and none of them held delusions that the ghost of battles past would ever cease to haunt the treacherous hinterland between sleep and awareness. The familiar surroundings however were heartening, a silken net of happy memories which all tree drew around each other basking in there individual reminisces. Were home said Harry, drawing happy sigh. Ron nodded solemnly and Hermiones face was lit by the first true smile in a year.
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Myrtle did not wait long to perpetrate her depraved plan. Turning invisible Myrtle stalked the three friends, pleased that Peeves had thoroughly booby-trapped the boys washroom. Simply looking at the back of her true loves head elicited desire and overwhelming happiness that he was now in her reach. A quarrel between two Hufflepuff girls behind her drew Myrtles attention, distracted by there unnecessarily load bickering she only just heard someone say:
"I need to use the loo."
By the time Myrtle had wiped around the trio had been swallowed by a throng of oncoming students. Smiling devilishly she hurdled herself toward the boys restroom to watch the performance, she knew it was going to be engaging.
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Ron stepped into the restroom slightly over eager, if only he had known what was lying in wait for him perhaps he would have been in less of a hurry. Rons jaw dropped as he entered. Standing there was one of the most bizarre contraptions he had ever seen. It was the sort of madcap thing his father would have taken pride in. Little did Ron realize that opening the door had begun a chain of events, seemingly random and utterly pointless. Somewhere above Ron a row of dominos fell, one by one, a candle in the opposite corner burned through a single thread held taut just above it, a bottle rocket flipped a switch (which was not connected to anything in particular) and a paddle wheel began to spin in a slow melodic fashion of it own accord.
"Aw. Did Peevesys little show distract Myrtles love? BAD PEEVESY!"
Ron wheeled around just in time to see Peeves standing behind a suit of armor which certainly did not belong in the boys toilet. It took only a second for Ron to realize that Peeves was holding one silver axe-wielding arm up, and yet another second for the horrifying truth to dawn upon him that Peeves was letting the arm go. The axe was coming down fast, falling on a bewildered Ron who did not even have the time to utter one last Bloody Hell. Peeves assessed the gruesome scene before him. Rons fiery red hair was flecked with blood, his maroon Christmas jumper saturated with crimson.
"Oppsey daisy!" said Peeves innocently.
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Ron was still bewildered when he finally sat up, but in addition to his patented look of utter confusion he was silver and transparent. Ron was feeling cold and strangely numb; he couldn't quite remember exactly what he had been doing a few minutes ago. But before he could put his thumb on it Moaning Myrtle popped through the nearest wall absolutely beaming.
"My love you have finally joined me!" She cried with elation, however upon seeing Rons corpse and his phantom sitting closely beside it, positively flabbergasted, her face fell and she looked dejected.
"You're not Harry."
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No he's not Harry. Harry had the sense to to be a loser. If he was, I'd have to creat a fic to kill him.
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