Chapter 16
Another week had gone by and the brothers found themselves buried in stacks of books and papers. They had been meeting with Remus every other night as he had suggested. They had compiled lists, filling scroll after scroll of comparisons between both world's monster lore. Much to their disappointment, there wasn't much that was the same between the two. For example, Vampires were typical lore. Two fanged bloodsuckers that burned in the sun, were deterred by garlic, and killed by a stake through the heart.
Werewolves were a touchy subject for Remus. He was happy to volunteer information about the ins and outs of lycanthropy, however he was noticeably uneasy when it came to ways to dispatch them.
When it came to ghosts, the more questions they asked, the more questions they had.
"Well, what makes a ghost here seems to be the same as back home." Sam said as he hovered over a book in the wee hours of the morning. Dean had passed out on top of his pile of research. Remus had been leaning against the wall, arms crossed, head down, lightly snoozing. He lifted his head at the sound of Sam's voice.
"Beg pardon?" he asked.
Sam repeated. "It says here that ghosts are created when either someone is afraid of death or someone has a particularly strong attachment to someplace."
Remus nodded in response.
"Well that's the same back home. I wonder if there are more similarities."
"Sam," Remus said exhaustedly. "Can we pick this up on Saturday? Your brother has been out for hours."
Sam looked up and saw Dean hunched over, a little puddle forming on his parchment under his open mouth.
"Right!" he said quickly. He gathered up his notes and shook Dean awake.
"Where's my pie!" Dean exclaimed coming out of his snooze, which apparently was deeper than he first thought.
Remus and Sam chuckled as they cleared the table and put their books and papers into cabinet for safe keeping.
"Would that be cherry, or apple?" Sam teased.
"The biggest lemon meringue you've ever seen, Sam!" Dean said clearly disappointed as he mimicked the circumference.
"That explains the drool, then." Sam said under his breath.
"What's that?" Dean asked.
"Nothing. Look, I think we may have something." Sam said changing the subject.
"Which you can discuss on the way to your chambers!" Remus interjected.
"Oh!" Sam said. "Of course."
Remus looked at both of them. "I am awfully fond of both of you, but please, allow me to get some vestige of sleep."
"I hear that!" Dean agreed wholeheartedly.
"Sorry to keep you awake, Remus." Sam apologized.
"I shall see you both on Saturday." he replied as he all but pushed them out the door and shut it behind them.
There was a moment of confusion before Dean pointed at the door and whispered, "Is he sleeping in his classroom?"
Sam looked at his watch. "Well it is 4am."
Dean's eyes widened. "On a school night? What the hell is wrong with you?"
They headed back to their chambers and argued in hushed tones over the importance of a good night's rest when honing the young minds of the future of the Wizarding World.
The next day dragged on and on. Dean was only able to catch a total of 4 hours of sleep, and that was only because he decided to skip breakfast.
Severus slipped Dean a Wideye Potion while passing by him in the back of the classroom and hissed the word "discreetly" through his teeth.
He then walked to the front of the classroom and tossed the potions book on to his desk loudly causing the whole class to look up from their cauldrons frightened. Dean took the opportunity and turned his back, popped the top of the vile and downed the potion. Instantly his eyes bugged with the bitterness of the draught. No doubt about it, he was definitely awake now.
Dean turned around again and gave an awkward thumb up to Severus while he still captivated the attention of the class.
Sam was able to catch an extra hour of sleep because Charms with Flitwick wasn't until after Potions. He was definitely alert when Flitwick had asked him to demonstrate Lumos Maxima for the class. This wasn't the first time he had been asked to Vana White for the students. He didn't mind. Charms was something he had picked up quite easily. He flicked his wand forward, drew it back, and flicked it again.
"Lumos Maxima!" he cried, and the entire room lit up in a blinding light. The students groaned loudly and shielded their entire faces with their arms as if they were afraid the light would burn them.
"Oh yes! Heh heh! Well done, Mr. Winchester. You may extinguish it now." said Flitwick hurriedly.
Sam drew the wave in the air and muttered, "Nox". The light faded and he swore he heard a collective sigh of relief. Several students were blinking madly trying to stamp out the spots they were seeing.
Sam and Dean met at the head table for lunch after another fun lesson in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Remus was noticeably tired during the lesson so they had helped out as much as they could themselves. A very eagerly awaited lunch appeared before them of fish and chips, which they shoveled down their hungry gullets.
They had the rest of the afternoon off on Fridays for their own personal studying, private lessons, and whatnot. Dean was wired from the potion he took earlier that morning, so catching a nap was out of the question.
Sam had noticed that Dean had a pep in his step.
"How come you're all bright-eyed and bushytailed?" he asked.
"Check it out. Severus gave me this potion." Dean said.
"You're go-go juiced up?" Sam asked, hardly believing his ears.
"Two times better than coffee, twice as gross as wheat grass." Dean said smiling and dipping his battered fish into a condiment cup of malt vinegar. He took a bite and moaned. "Never thought I'd like this malt vinegar stuff." He squeezed another lemon over his fish.
"So what are you going to do this afternoon?" Sam asked
"Think I'm gonna go talk to Severus and get him to teach me how to make the Wideye Potion so we can keep a bunch on hand."
Sam looked at him.
"What?"
"I just hope you don't pass out standing up when that stuff wears off."
"Yeah, yeah, pipe down there Dr. Phil."
Sam playfully pushed him, and Dean grinned with full, stuffed hamster cheeks.
He chewed for a bit, swallowed, and asked Sam, "What are you gonna do with your afternoon?"
"Research." he said plainly.
"Aw, man." Dean said. "You mean more research? Can't you take a day off and just relax? You're gonna turn into a book one of these days." he joked.
"No, seriously, Dean. I think I'm on to something."
"What is it? A way to get us home?" he asked hopefully.
"No, I think there are similarities between our ghosts and theirs. Obviously there are differences, but I need to go talk to someone who knows more about it."
"Well, you do that. I'm gonna go talk to Severus. See you later." Dean put his napkin on the table as he stood up and walked down the length of the staff table to where Severus sat.
Sam wiped his mouth and stood and left the table as well. He waved acknowledgements to a few of the professors and students as he exited the Great Hall. He climbed the steps up to the main floor of the castle and followed a few corridors. He doubled back a couple times, making sure he wasn't followed. Climbed to second level, made a circuit of all the hallways, until he came to a small, unassuming door along one wall. He looked both ways and checked that no one was around. All clear.
He opened the door slightly and instantly felt the cold dampness within. He opened the door the rest of the way and snuck in quickly, pulling it shut behind him. He was engulfed in a dull, blue-ish light. He heard a faint dripping sound from somewhere deep in the room. He began to slowly walk deeper into the room and the sound of his footsteps on the dirty tile floor bounced off the walls.
"H-hello?" he called out uncertain.
He heard no rely. Sam continued walking further into the room. It was dark as the torches that lined the walls were not lit. The sunlight filtered through a stained glass window situated in the center of elongated hall flanked on either side by bathroom stalls.
He decided to call out again. "Hello? Myrtle? Myrtle Warren? Are you there?"
It was quiet. He walked over to the stalls and stood there. Just when he thought he may have the wrong bathroom, he heard a voice behind him.
"Nobody calls me that." it said.
Sam jumped and turned around. There she was, sitting on top of the sink column.
"Oh! You're not one of the students!" she said, cocking her head to the side.
Sam couldn't be sure, but . . . was she checking him out? "My name is Sam Winchester. I am one of the classroom aides."
Myrtle batted her ghostly eyelashes at him. "And an American! Oooooooh! It must be my birthday." She giggled and glided up off her perch on the sinks. She feigned shyness as she circled him, practically eating him up with her eyes. "What are you doing here, Sam?"
"I've come to talk with you." he said plainly.
She stopped and flew swiftly to meet him face to face. Her tone changed to one of anger. "YOU MEAN YOU'VE COME TO MAKE FUN OF ME!"
Sam took a step backward. "No. I mean talk with you."
She seemed taken aback. "No one ever comes to talk with poor little Moaning Myrtle." She began to sniff and coo.
"Well I have. And I want to ask you a few questions, if it's alright."
"You've come to ask me how I died." she said.
"Actually, I know how you died."
"Oh? And I suppose you know why I stayed, too."
"Olive Hornby. She was making fun of your glasses. That's why you came in here. You saw the basilisk."
"Yes." she moped. "It was just dreadful."
"How was it that it killed you, though? I know the students last year had been petrified by seeing the basilisk's reflection, or through a ghost, or the lens of a camera. I would assume your glasses would have saved you."
"WELL THEY DIDN'T, DID THEY!" she huffed and crossed her arms. She started hurriedly floating away from him.
"Please don't go! I mean no disrespect, Myrtle." Sam said quickly.
She stopped, hung her head, and began to cry.
"Why are you crying?"
"Because," she began. "Nobody has ever cared about the details of my death. Except for Harry, maybe."
"Why didn't your glasses save you?" Sam asked again.
"Because I wasn't wearing them." she answered. "I had been crying something awful. They had gone and fogged up on me. I took them off to wipe them off and that's when I heard the boy's voice. I opened the door to tell him to go away and I saw a big, dark, blurry shape coming for me. Luckily I didn't see what hit me. As I lay dead, the boy came and put my glasses back on my face. As he was walking away, I sat up and yelled at him to come back. That is when I saw I was stone cold dead on the ground. So I just hung around until Olive Hornby came and discovered my body."
"And you haunted her."
"You better believe I haunted her!" she said balling up her ghostly fists. "It was her fault after all. It was her fault I was dead." With that she began to wail.
"Then what happened?"
"The Ministry of Magic said I couldn't haunt her any more. I had to return here to the place I died."
"I see." Sam thought of what to ask her next. He was startled to find her eyeing him up again. "So you could say you hung around because you had, unfinished business?"
"I suppose so. I'm not sure exactly. All I know is that I didn't want to go."
"Myrtle I was wondering if you could help me run some experiments."
"Oooooo!" Her demeanor changed and she giggled gleefully. "What kind of," she floated next to him and put her ghostly head near him as if she were nuzzling up to his shoulder. "Experiments?"
Sam gulped a little awkwardly and turned to her. "I'm not from this world, Myrtle. But where I'm from we have ghosts too. They are much, much meaner though."
"There are plenty of mean ghosts here. Have you met Peeves?"
"Unfortunately." Sam said.
"He's mean even to the other ghosts. All except the Bloody Barron. He seems to be frightened of him."
"I wanted to run some tests to see if by some chance some of the things that work in my world to battle against ghosts worked here too."
She looked at him sideways.
"My intention is not to hurt you, Myrtle. I wanted to ask your permission." Sam said earnestly.
"Like what?" she still eyed him suspiciously.
"For example, salt and iron."
"What do you mean?"
Sam tried to choose his words very carefully. "Where I am from, ghosts are usually up to very, very bad things. Like, killing the living."
Myrtle gasped. "Oh, no! How dreadful!"
"There are certain things, like salt, that can help protect the living from harm when these ghosts come after them."
"How does salt help?" she asked.
"Well, it makes them . . . break apart . . . I guess."
"Break apart?" she raised her suspicious eyebrow again.
"I don't know, it's hard to explain. But it only works temporarily. They come right back again. And another thing is they can't cross salt lines."
"And the iron?"
"They can't touch it. It does the same thing it . . . makes them . . . disappear. Again, completely temporary. It could buy you a couple seconds to finish putting down a salt line."
"And that works?" she asked.
"Most of the time. Has anyone ever tried to get rid of you?"
"Is that what this is about? Has Dumbledore hired you to get rid of me?" she moped.
"Oh no! Not at all! I'm not trying to get rid of you. I'm trying to see if ghost deterrents from my world work in this world. I'm not going to lie. It may not be a pleasant experience. Which is why I wanted to ask your permission."
"Interesting." Myrtle said, once again floating around Sam, eyeing him up and down. "And what do I get in exchange for agreeing to help you?"
There it is! Sam thought. He took a deep breath. He knew he was going to regret this. "What is it that you would like, Myrtle?"
"Hmmmm." she said thinking. But in that way a girl says it already having something in mind but making the guy sweat it simply because she can. "I know exactly what I want, Sam."
"Name it." he instantly regretted saying those words.
"I would like you to come visit me at least once a week." she said and immediately went into throws of giggles.
Really? Sam thought. That's it? Not nearly as bad as I thought it would have been. "Yeah! S-Sure! Sounds great!" he said.
"If you don't show up though. . ." she said darkly which made Sam freeze. "I'll come find you. . . no matter what you're doing." she said suggestively and winked at him.
"No problem." Sam said. "I'll come visit every Friday." he said, thinking to himself the last thing he needed was another Becky in ghost form.