When Dudley arrived back at Hogwarts, he and Dean met Ron in the common room who was bursting with news.

"Did you hear? Hermione is in the hospital wing!"

"She was attacked?" Dean asked, quickly.

Ron shook his head. "I don't think so, but one of the ghosts saw her being taken there and apparently she was covered in fur."

"Covered in fur?" Dudley repeated in shock.

"What was it? A spell or potion that went wrong?" asked Dean.

"Dunno," Ron replied. "But I knew she was up to something."

"Yeah, but turning herself into a dog," said Dudley.

"I'm guessing she didn't mean to, Dud," Dean said. "I'm guessing whatever it was went wrong."

"We'll have to ask her when she's back," said Ron. "If she'll tell us."

Much of the talk of he house was about Hermione and what was wrong with her. During charms, Dudley heard Lavender saying to Parvati that Hermione had tried to become an animagus, whilst Seamus told anyone who would listen—which, since he had no friends, was mainly just a few first years—that she had been trying to brew a potion to cure Neville. Ron wondered if it was something to do with the chamber, but he couldn't see how getting covered in hair would help defeat Slytherin's monster.

It was after a grueling herbology lesson that Dudley, Dean and Ron were trooping back to Gryffindor Tower and heard an angry yell.

"That's Filch," Ron said, leading the way down the corridor to see what was up.

"Even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven't got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I'm going to Dumbledore-"

His footsteps receded along the out-of-sight corridor and they heard a distant door slam.

Filch had clearly been manning his usual lookout post: They were once again on the spot where Mrs. Norris had been attacked. They saw at a glance what Filch had been shouting about. A great flood of water stretched over half the corridor, and it looked as though it was still seeping from under the door of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Now that Filch had stopped shouting, they could hear Myrtle's wails echoing off the bathroom walls.

"Now what's up with her?" said Ron.

"Let's go and see," said Dudley, and holding their robes over their ankles they stepped through the great wash of water to the door bearing its OUT OF ORDER sign. They ignored it and entered.

Moaning Myrtle was crying, if possible, louder and harder than ever before. She seemed to be hiding down her usual toilet. It was dark in the bathroom because the candles had been extinguished in the great rush of water that had left both walls and floor soaking wet.

"Who's that?" glugged Myrtle miserably. "Come to throw something else at me?"

Dudley waded across to her stall and said, "Why would I throw something at you?"

"Don't ask me," Myrtle shouted, emerging with a wave of yet more water, which splashed onto the already sopping floor. "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me..."

Dudley laughed. "Sounds like a fun game, throw things at the ghost."

Myrtle glared angrily at him. "You're just like the others, always mean to me! At least that other girl is polite."

"What other girl?" Dean asked. "Who in their right mind would come here?"

Myrtle suddenly grinned. "Ohhh she came a lot to make her little potion. It went wrong though—turned into a cat she did!" Myrtle laughed.

"Wait … you don't mean Hermione was here?" Ron said quickly.

"Making a potion?" asked Dean.

"A cat?" said Dudley.

"Yes, over there. Drank it she did, but it all went wrong. Oh, she looked a sight! Covered in fur."

Ron looked in the toilet stall where Myrtle had pointed but it was empty.

Dudley however had spotted something. "Is that what they threw at you?" he pointed.

Myrtle puffed herself up and shrieked, "Let's all throw books at Myrtle, because she can't feel it! Ten points if you can get it through her stomach! Fifty points if it goes through her head! Well, ha, ha, ha! What a lovely game, I don't think!"

"Who threw it at you, anyway?" asked Dudley.

"I don't know... I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it fell right through the top of my head," said Myrtle, glaring at them.

Dean stepped forward to pick up the book, but Ron stopped him.

"Are you crazy?" said Ron. "It could be dangerous."

"Dangerous?" said Dean, laughing. "It's just a book."

"You'd be surprised," said Ron, who was looking apprehensively at the book. "Some of the books the Ministry's confiscated Dad's told me - there was one that burned your eyes out. And everyone who read Sonnets of a Sorcerer spoke in limericks for the rest of their lives. And some old witch in Bath had a book that you could never stop reading! You just had to wander around with your nose in it, trying to do everything one-handed. And-"

"I know that book, it's mine!" Dudley said suddenly, picking it up. "Remember, I found a diary in my bag earlier this year and tossed it out. This is it."

"Weird, who would pick up your old diary?" asked Ron.

"And who would throw it away?" Dean said.

Dudley crammed the book carelessly into his pocket.

"Why are you keeping it?" Ron asked.

"See what's written inside later," Dudley shrugged. "Might be some secrets."

"Fifty points if you can get it through Myrtle's nose." Ron said.

Dudley smirked. "I have dung bombs for that." He pulled out three dungbombs and handed one to each of them.

"Ready? Myrtle!"

As the ghost turned around, Dudley hurled his dungbomb. The ghost shrieked as it soared through the air, letting off a pungent smell. Dudley's went through her stomach, Dean's into her shoulder and Ron's through her head.

With a cry of rage and a sudden sob, Myrtle dove into the toilet.

"Come on," Ron said, laughing. "It stinks in here."