Grim Spectre

When they first met, Myrtle had actually felt jealous of Crookshanks. He seemed to threaten the most serious competition for the friendship of the Grim. That would have been no contest. After all, they were two of a kind - both of them had been framed by the Rat-Man. She would no longer be two of a kind with the Grim and she would be just miserable, moping, moaning Myrtle again.

Now Myrtle had cause to feel a little more amiable towards Crookshanks. They had actually worked together on something. When Mytle first suggested it, Sirius slammed his fists violently into the toilet in protest.

"NOO! The last time I tried...the last time I tried..." His ghostly face wobbled and shook...spectral tears dribbled down and splashed into the toilet bowl.

Like all his other ghastly memories, it was replaying yet again, just as it had replayed over and over in Azkaban until it was indelible and non-stop playing...

The image of the stricken, revulsed, face of Remus Lupin turning away from him at his trial, or what passed for one in the infamous purges of Barty Crouch. Sirius had sat bound to the chair, begging and cajoling his innocence to his only friend left from the Marauders. But all his screams and cries merely rebounded off the walls and selectively deaf ears...

And now Sirius was to go to Remus Lupin and ask for his help?!?

He wouldn't hear of it. He had been burned too so badly already and the searing had been etched deeper and deeper into his memory from the incessant repetition. He had no reason to trust Lupin, Dumbledore, or anyone else to listen. They would just turn away and leave him to the Dementors, just as they did before. Sirius screamed with rage before collapsing into ghostly sobs and howls. And his habitual calendar of etchings had now deteriorated into bitter, meaningless scratches that resembled a toddler's scribbles - only they seemed to be far more gruesome than a toddler's merriments.

It was most unfortunate that persuasion was not one of Myrtle's strongest points - unless you count howling and wailing people to such distraction that they would do anything to get away from you. After all, she had had so little opportunity to develop it, along with her other interactive skills. Crookshanks had more experience. He stared and stared at Sirius in reproach. He mewed, he clawed and he sidled up to purr as imploringly as his dignified countenance would allow...

Nope. Sirius just snarled at Crookshanks, and then dive into the U-Bend and sulk, seethe, whine, howl and growl in no particular order...while Crookshanks hissed indignantly because Sirius had drenched him in toilet water when he plunged down the toilet bowl.

Myrtle drifted over and sat glumly on the toilet seat, muffling out Sirius's moaning far below. Beside her Crookshanks flared into a violent bristle-brush to spray all the water off.

"What do we dooo...??" She began to whimper softly. Her feline companion took no notice. He was too busy licking himself free of Sirius' inconsiderate splattering. If it wasn't for his anxiety to sort out the Rat-Man, he would walk out right now. Totally bad job, this Dog-Man was. He wasn't keeping his mind on the job and he just wouldn't listen to good sense. As a matter of fact, this Dog-Man did not have any good sense. All he had was a load of tiresome old melancholy about this "Azkaban" thing, and an absolutely foul temper to boot.

Yet it made perfectly good sense to Crookshanks, to get this "Lupin" to help. Crookshanks had seen this Lupin for himself when Lupin once brushed past him in the girls' dormitory. The scent had been so brief, so fleeting, yet it was enough to satisfy Crookshanks' senses that this wizard was decent and honest...yet there had been sad, resigned scent of melancholy...and even stranger, an odd sense of animal, yet it was not like that of the Rat-Man. Crookshanks could not quite put his paw on what it was, but it was there all right...

It must have be something to do with what they call "werewolf." Crookshanks did not quite understand what the term meant. He had heard it somewhere in passing...oh yes...that was his mistress. Once, while she was studying alone, scribbling furiously on a scroll four pages long...all of a sudden she stopped abruptly. And then she exclaimed: "Lupin! He's a werewolf!" in a tone that smelled like a werewolf was almost something as dreadful as the wizard Youknowwho. Yet Crookshanks could not sense anything dreadful about this "werewolf" and he should know. He had the perfect nose for smelling the unsavoury in humans, after all.

Crookshanks looked up quite meaningfully at Moaning Myrtle. He could not communicate what was puzzling him. What was a "werewolf"?

Myrtle knew, of course. She had long since known it since the Marauders slipped into her bathroom to hide from yet another escapade.

She stared back at Crookshanks. Tears welled yet again in her eyes at the thought of breaking confidence in order to answer his question.

*~*~*

Maybe it was this very thought that drove Moaning Myrtle to encroach on forbidden territory.

It was simple enough for Myrtle to slip into the Defence against the Dark Arts Room. It was simple enough to do so, of course. The living quarters of the DADA teacher had a toilet installed, through which Myrtle could travel, just as she did with every other toilet in Hogwarts.

But oh, how self-conscious and embarrassed she felt, slipping into a teacher's private quarters! Ghost though she was, Myrtle flushed and trembled at treading on such forbidden territory. Her pearly-white form was virtually quivering and gave the impression that splashes of rain were dancing right through her.

Myrtle whined softly and threatened to sob again...then she surprised herself to find that she couldn't even cry - she was too damn scared!

Myrtle stopped dead. She glanced back towards the beckoning toilet in the private quarters. She might have scuttled back and straight down its bowel right there and then had she not abruptly heard sudden scuffles of movement from within the private chamber. Myrtle quivered even more violently and if she had been alive, she would be blushing furiously. It must be Professor Lupin emerging from one of his afternoon naps; he had always been fond of them as a pupil...

By the time Lupin had emerged, Myrtle was floating far above him, clutching around the chandelier in the ceiling. A most unbecoming position it was for her; normally it was Peeves who skulked around the chandeliers, not Moaning Myrtle. And she was finding it most awkward, too. Chandeliers did not possess the security of toilet bowls.

Myrtle was abruptly distracted from her awkward chandelier position at the sound of her own bathroom suddenly being mentioned below. She peered down. Lupin was gazing into a mirror. The chandelier was too distant for Myrtle to see what was in the mirror - but it was definitely no reflection of the room!

Gingerly, trepidly, she drifted down until she was hovering in a delicate position above Lupin. It was not close enough for him to feel her presence and close enough to see what was in the mirror.

And when Myrtle saw what was in that mirror - indignation exploded within her!

It was a reflection of her very own bathroom!

The wretched, miserable, peeping tom! How dare he snoop into her bathroom! Her bathroom was sacrosanct to her! For anybody, even a teacher, to spy in her like that was ... was ... sacrilege!

No, it was worse than that - much worse! It was violation! Rape!

Rape?

Well, that was what it felt like. A foul, sordid, dirty feeling swept right through Myrtle to the very core. It felt exactly as if she had been violated by some foul Muggle pervert...why...why...if she hadn't been alive she would have been violently sick right over Lupin's head right then and there. And she should have exploded into her most violent, tearful tantrum right there and then - but it all swelled and choked in her throat and she could only manage the faintest croak. All she could produce were the most ferocious shakes and quivers only a few feet away from the oblivious Lupin...

*~*~*

All Lupin was receiving was an earful of hair-raising howls and whines that echoed dreadfully from the depths of the toilet bowl. It definitely was not Moaning Myrtle. She did a great deal of howling, but her howling certainly did not sound like a werewolf at the full moon. That must be the mysterious Grim making all those noises.

Lupin scowled in thought and mounting confusion. If that Grim was Sirius, why was he spending all his time howling and moaning in toilet bowls? Surely he would be immersed in plotting how to get to Harry Potter. After all, he was already in the castle, and it would surely be short work to get to Harry. All he had to do was travel through the plumbing, just like that Basilisk had done last year. And he had more than enough time already to get to Harry. So why, oh why, was he wasting all his time howling down the toilet?

You stupid werewolf!

The huge moon-face of Crookshanks had suddenly taken over the entire mirror. Now that did take Lupin by surprise. You can spy on other people through their mirrors, but they cannot use that mirror to spy on you! Yet this cat seemed to know that he was there, spying on him through the mirror.

And there the cat was. Crookshanks had leapt onto the wash-basins in front of Myrtle's mirror. He was staring at Lupin like a stern teacher who scowls at a stupid student when they should know the answer to a perfectly simple question - but just stare at you stupidly.

Lupin wasn't just staring stupidly. He was staring back in utter astonishment and dismay at the cat that could actually sense him gazing through the mirror. And the cat was staring right back with what seemed to be mounting exasperation...

Well? I'm waiting...the cat seemed to be saying as he stared back at Lupin.

Waiting for what? Lupin floundered.

He knew that cat, of course. It belonged to Hermione Granger. He had seen it when he shared the train compartment with Harry and his friends. Being something of an animal himself, Lupin had felt an innate connection to the cat. It was over and above any Muggle cat. If Lupin was not mistaken, it had Kneazle blood. In which case the cat not only had perception above Muggle cats, but he knew a bad lot when he saw one.

I am talking to you, you stupid werewolf!

Crookshanks glanced away towards the howls emanating from the cubicle, and then straight back toward Lupin with urgent expectation. We need your help, you stupid werewolf!

Lupin stared back at Crookshanks. The cat seemed to be trying to tell him something, and it was something to do with that howling - but what was it?

The cat nodded back towards the howling, and then straight back at Lupin, with even more urgent, appealing exasperation than ever.

The cat was definitely trying to tell him something.

But Lupin could not understand what it was. It was clearly something very, very important - but what in Merlin's name was it?

Maybe it was to do with Sirius?

.... He was right and it was Sirius making all that howling ...?

.... That mysterious Grim which had lodged itself in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom was indeed Sirius...?

He looked rather stupidly back at the infuriated cat in the weird expectation that it might be able to answer his question?

You've finally caught on, have you, you stupid werewolf?

Well, that was what it seemed to be saying through the mirror.

All of a sudden, it was Lupin's turn to get infuriated.

"Look, if that is Sirius Black, you should be getting out of there right now!" He spluttered right back at the feline moon-face in the mirror. "Don't you know he's a mass murderer? Any second now he'll come charging out of that cubicle and drown you in the toilet, if he doesn't blow you to pieces first!"

A monstrous, fanged cavern filled the mirror and a deafening, indignant hiss snarled from within. Lupin leapt back from the mirror as the cacophony attacked his ears. From several feet back he glared back at the voluminous cavern that was now howling in utter rage from the depths of the mirror.

YOU STUPID WEREWOLF!!!

"Now, don't you get smart with me!" Lupin waggled his finger sternly at the catty cavern. "I know you're part Kneazle! So you should jolly well know a bad person when you see one! So you should know that Sirius is a bad lot! Come on, now! Why can't you sense he's a bad lot? A mass murderer! A Deatheater, second only to Voldemort himself! Can't you sense it? Why can't you sense it?!?"

"Because it's not there for him to sense," answered a startling, whiny sort of voice from above.

Lupin stared upwards - and instantly flushed in sheer embarrassment. Moaning Myrtle was hovering directly above him - and here he was, caught red-handed with a Master Mirror that was intruding on her bathroom! Oh, the shame of it. She must feel he was a dreadful peeping tom who was spying on her!

"Oh M-Myrtle, I-I'm so sorry." He spluttered awkwardly. "I didn't mean to spy on you. It-it's just that..." He hesitated a moment. He didn't want anyone else to know he was using a Master Mirror to find Sirius Black. On the other hand, how else he explain what he was doing to the evidently outraged little Myrtle?

He gulped and then plunged. "I was using it to see if Sirius Black was in there."

She said nothing. She just hovered there, sullen and her lip pouted to the occasion.

Lupin decided it was time to take the unicorn by the horn. Without any further preamble, he demanded: "Do you know if that Grim in your bathroom is Sirius Black?"

Now, Myrtle was never much good at keeping a poker face. She gasped and flushed deeply.

That was all Lupin needed to know. He exploded on the spot. "Myrtle, how could you! Don't you know Sirius Black is a vicious killer?!? Do you have any idea what he'll do if he gets his hands on Harry Potter? Or to anyone else who gets in his way - and you are helping him to do it! How could you be so stupid!"

Myrtle exploded into the most outraged wail. "I AM NOT STUUUPPID!"

"Don't give me that, Myrtle! Don't you realise you are harbouring a vicious killer who wants to kill Harry Potter!"

"He does not!"

"And why not?"

"He wants to kill the Rat!"

"Rat?!?" Lupin just about fell over backwards. "Rat?!?"

"Rat!" Myrtle declared authoritatively.

Lupin was just about well and truly reeling now. "Oh, come on, Myrtle! Are you saying that Sirius Black broke out of Azkaban just to kill a rat?"

"Not a rat. To kill the Rat!"

"The Rat?!?"

"Don't you remember? Your friend who can turn into a rat! Peter Pettigrew!"

"Peter Pettigrew?" Lupin snorted violently. "Oh, come off it, Myrtle! Peter's dead! Blown to bit in that street along with all those Muggles! Everybody knows that!"

"No, he isn't," Myrtle declared in sulky defiance. "He's alive. And my Grim's looking for him."

Lupin just stared at Myrtle in some disheartening blend of sadness, incomprehension and disbelief.

Myrtle was well and truly pouting now. "So you don't believe me? Well, I'll show you! You wait right there and I'll show you the Rat's alive! Just you wait right there."

She gave a final nod back to Crookshanks who responded with an inaudible mew in the mirror but clearly meant "I'm with you!" Myrtle had already conveyed her idea and he had helped her to forge a reasonable plan.

Lupin only sighed. "All right, I'll give you a chance. But this had better be worth it."

Myrtle nodded, her lip quivering slightly. She was surprising herself on how her fear of poking around in a teacher's quarters, much less confronting a teacher had receded in the face of surmounting defiance in the knowledge that she was right and a teacher wrong.

She turned back towards the moonface in the Master-Mirror for a final surge of strength. The moon-face purred mutely in reply.

"C-can you meet me in the toilet in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, Professor? There's something I want to show you."

Lupin smiled indulgently at her. He tapped the Master Mirror for the toilet of the Gryffindor boys' dormitory...

*~*~*

Lupin marvelled at Moaning Myrtle emerging through the boys' toilet some minutes later. Amazing conduits, these plumbing systems could be. If only you could move through water, they would operate just like the Floo Network.

Seconds later Moaning Myrtle returned with a tattered, well-handled piece of newspaper. She pressed it against the mirror to take the full view of the Master Mirror at the other end.

It was Ron's copy of the fateful newspaper clipping which had triggered Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban...

And from the other end, Lupin now stared at the photograph with the same, slack-jawed astonishment...

He stared at it for a long, long, time...

And then he fell back into his chair, tears tumbling down his cheeks. "Oh, Sirius..."