He stormed from Dumbledore's office, intent on one destination. He thundered into the lavatory, disturbing its quiet sanctuary.
"Myrtle!"
No response.
"I know you're here, Myrtle!"
She floated down from the ceiling and said airily, "You called?"
"What are you playing at, Myrtle? You let me think I was going crazy—"
"You told everyone I was a whore. Somehow I think what you did is worse."
"I…"
"What? No rumors to start now?" she turned her back him.
"Myrtle…" his voice was soft and pathetic. Nearly pleading. "I didn't mean—"
"I don't care."
She was surprised to find him standing before her; she ignored him.
"Why did you do it?" he asked quietly.
"Why did you?"
"I'm stupid." he murmured.
"Tell me something I don't know."
"Look—"
"What was it? Did you not want to lose face with your friends? Were you embarrassed? I'm sure my embarrassment was far more."
"Let me explain!"
"I'm not stopping you."
"Myrtle, You were not like the other girls. You were not…" he searched for words that he could not find.
"I was not what? Beautiful? "
"No! No…you…you were not…transparent."
The ghost scoffed. "Am I transparent enough for you now?"