The entire school was assembled and dressed in black for Moaning Myrtle's funeral. Myrtle herself floated unnoticed above the students as Dumbledore spoke hollow words about friendship and compassion.
She had scanned the crowd for one face and he was not there.
He was standing in the back of the Great Hall, under James' invisibility cloak. He was leaning against the cold stone wall of the Hall as silent tears streamed down his face. He couldn't let anyone see him like that.
He found himself walking to the lavatory before the funeral was over.
No one had been in there. Everyone was too frightened or too respectful to troll the place she died.
The door clicked shut loudly behind him in the empty room. He fixated on the spot she was found.
She had killed herself.
He had not held the wand to her head.
He had not killed her.
He didn't have anything to do with it.
But he wanted to know why she did it. Why didn't she talk to anyone? Why didn't she tell anyone?
He pretended he didn't have the answer that question, but he knew. The only person she spoke to had let her down.