Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Chapter18

Moaning Myrtle

"Wh... Wh... WHAT?" Harry stood there, mouth agape, being completely thrown by the question. Whatever it was he had been expecting her to ask, THAT had not been it.

"Do... Do you miss your parents?" Her face fell. She had apparently been expecting a simple but quick answer, and his response wasn't what she was expecting either.

"I... I... uh..." Harry was stumped. It was obviously a question she had been asking herself for some time. He thought a little about what he knew of her. He knew even less about Myrtle than he did about Moaning Myrtle. He knew that she was Muggle Born. He knew she was sixteen, and he knew that she had died in the year Nineteen Forty-three because Tom Riddle had been setting a Basilisk on the school, but apart from that? Nothing. How much did she really know about him? Of course he was The Boy Who Lived, and of course he had come in touch with Voldemort a total of four occasions, and escaped every time, but did Myrtle know about Harry Potter as much as Moaning Myrtle knew about The Boy Who Lived? He doubted it. He didn't want to sound derisive or condescending, so he avoided the possibly offensive "Of course I do!" instead, opting for a more simple, but friendly, "Yes, Myrtle, I do. Nowadays they are in amongst my every waking thought."

"It must be nice to have waking thoughts!" Moaning Myrtle mumbled. Harry rolled his eyes, not quite sure of how serious she was. She was renowned for, amongst other things, her tremendous sense of self pity.

"Must be nice to have known your parents before you lost your waking thoughts!" Harry retorted a little irritably. Myrtle blushed almost black.

"Harry, I..."

"I'm sorry Myrtle. I shouldn't have been so insensitive. Knowing your parents must have made it even harder." He thought for a moment, and then added, "Did you love them?"

Myrtle looked at him blankly. "I don't understand Harry. How can you not love your parents?"

"No, no, no!" Harry stuttered quickly. "That's not what I asked you. I asked you if you loved them. I love my parents very much. But all I have to have loved them is the friends they have had, and a couple of painful memories. My relatives, whom I have lived with since the night my parents died have been rude, obnoxious, pretended that I don't exist. When I was allowed to eat, my normal meal in the evening was bread and cheese, although I would occasionally get leftovers. I spent half my life living in a three foot cupboard under the stairs, and last year they cut off the water and electricity to my room and tried to make it so as I can't send or receive owls - although that isn't really a problem. I don't know whether or not I love them, but you must realise, if I do, then it's not easy to do so! The closest thing I have to living parents, is Mr and Mrs Weasely, the parents of my friends, Ron and Ginny, whom I do love very much. They've practically adopted me without question, and they treat me as if I were their own son. Although admittedly," he added with a grin. "Mrs Weasely doesn't tend to tell me off as much as the others!" Myrtle uttered a nervous, but humoured titter.

There was a long pause, the silence broken only by the drip... drip... drip... of the cisterns. Finally Harry had a thought, and it was of genuine interest to him.

"Myrtle?"

"Harry?"

"What are your parents like?"

"I haven't seen them for fifty-two years. They came to Hogwarts to collect my body for the funeral, and I haven't seen them since."

"It can't have been easy for them. They lost their only daughter to the Wizarding World. That experience can be hard enough for Wizards, but for Muggles it must be a hundred times worse because of the fear of not knowing or understanding."

"Hmph!" Myrtle seemed a little disgruntled, but continued nonetheless. "My Mother was a Housewife, and Father was a Teacher. He taught at a Primary school in East Finchley. Mummy used to spend the days baking, tidying the house and tending to the garden. Daddy didn't get called up because he had a bad back from a farming accident when he was twelve. So he spent the day teaching children aged eight to twelve about Geography, History, Comprehension, Arithmetic, Science, Art, English, and even a little French as well. He used to come home every night with a smile on his face as he told Mummy about some of the things his children did or said. I will never forget this one time he told mum about a little girl who had made a little Freudian Slip when being asked about the past tenses. After talking about there being lots of similarities and differences, and irregularities, et cetera, he got onto verbs ending in i-n-k. He explained that verbs like think and sink went thought and sunk. He explained that some verbs hardly change at all like "I blink, I did blink, I blinked" But then he linked together saying "I drink, I did drink, I drank" and "I sink, I did sink, I sank" Well, this little girl, she was only eight, when asked to think of verbs that changed in the past tense, following the drink, sink, example with the verb "Wink". Mum couldn't stop laughing!" Harry's cheeks had coloured slightly, even though he had heard Ron say much worse. But he could also see the funny side, and he had definitely heard Dudley make sillier mistakes over the Summer Holidays, never mind about when he was eight! "That's what I loved most about them. They were able to make each other laugh. Watching them laugh always made me laugh. They..." She stopped, wondering how to go on, ghostly tears trickling silently down her colouring cheeks.

"Myrtle?" Harry was concerned. This was a new side to Myrtle he had never seen. He felt an overwhelming need to comfort her. He tried to put his hand on her shoulder. It slipped through, a shiver of ice running up his arm. He tried again, this time, locking his arm steady, just so that he was touching her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she sniffed, "thank you. As I was saying, they were my best friends."

"What?"

"I am serious. During the holidays I was never apart from them for more than a day or so, and that was just to visit Granny, up the road."

"But surely you had friends here at Hogwarts?"

"FRIENDS!" Myrtle smirked bitterly. "Don't talk to me about friends. I see you, Ron, and Hermione. You're practically a family! Do you want to know the closest I got to a friend, Harry?" He didn't reply, but cocked his head to indicate that he was still interested. "Olive Hornby! A callous little sow, whose only words to me were to tease me about these bloody spectacles! Otherwise, I kept to myself, and everybody else kept me to myself!" She smiled ironically. "I was shy. I was the only Mudbl-"

"DON'T SAY THAT!" Harry roared. "Never let me hear you say that about yourself again! There is no such thing as bad blood, only bad people! Tom Riddle was a disturbed boy who hated his father because he left his mother, and when she died after childbirth condemned him to a Muggle Orphanage. He, after a lot of research, found out that he was the Heir of Slytherin, and that, I think, twisted his viewpoint of things. Please, Myrtle! You are not a Mudblood. You are Muggle born, and you should be proud of it, from what you have told me about your parents."

Myrtle began to sob. She threw herself at Harry, flinging her arms around his neck, and burying her head into his shoulder. The experience was something he wouldn't forget in a hurry. He felt an intense cold, like nothing he'd ever felt before, but not nearly as desperate as with the Dementors. It was almost, for want of better words, warming and comforting. He patted her back gently, willing her to calm down. His hand didn't pass through her.

Harry grinned to himself. Ron would have a field day if he were to walk in now!

Slowly, Myrtle looked up, backed away from him, and sniffed.

"Thank you," she said quietly, blushing lightly again.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." She sniffed again. "Yeah! I am, now."

"Good!" he said, smiling amicably. "Look, Myrtle, no offence, but I'm quite tired. It's been a fairly long day. Could we continue this tomorrow night?"

"I'd like that!" she said quietly.

"Oh, and just as a matter of interest. I know you don't eat," he blushed slightly to indicate he again meant no offence and was simply making an observance. "But do you sleep?"

"Oh yes! Even ugly, spotty, moping, moaning ghosts need their beauty sleep!" Harry was pleased to see her grinning. "Actually, I must say I'm getting rather tired too. Oh well, see you tomorrow night, then?"

"Half ten?"

"Yeah, that's great. Goodnight Harry!"

"Goodnight Myrtle!" Harry grinned and punched her gently on the arm, stopping his knuckle just past the spectral cloth. He felt the increasingly familiar icy wave run through him, and he wondered if she could feel him punching her.

Back in the common room, he was greeted by some very odd looks.

"So...?" Ron prompted.

"So...?"

"SO! What happened? What was that all about?"

"Fleur was right." Harry replied simply. Evan, Ginny, and Hermione nodded, Ron, Marie and Natalia looked confused.

"Fleur said that Myrtle's been feeling a little down lately," Hermione supplied. "And by the sounds of it, she wanted to talk to Harry about it."

"Why Harry, though?" Ron said, confused. "Why not Ginny, Hermione, Marie or Natalia? Surely she would be more comfortable talking to girls."

"Myrtle doesn't know Ginny, Marie and Natalia." Evan answered for them. "She only really knows you, Hermione, and Harry, and of you three, Harry was the most qualified."

"What do you mean?"

"My parents." Ron looked at him blankly, as did the others. "Do you know what the first thing she asked me was, when I got down to her Bathroom?" Ron shook his head. "Do I miss my parents? She said that the last time she saw them was when they came to take her body to be buried." They stood around, soberly for a few moments. Natalia broke the silence timidly.

"Harry?"

"Hmmm?"

"Speaking of parents..." She let the unasked question linger for a moment, before Harry twigged.

"OH! Why, of course!" he said, beaming. "I'll go and get them now. Ron, I don't suppose you'd go and pay Dobby a visit. It could be a long night."

"Sure thing. I know where the cloak and map are!"

"Great. Double-check the map, but I think I might have found a passage that comes right out in front of the bowl of fruit, behind the suit if armour on the Eight Floor."

"Got it." Harry and Ron turned to their dormitory, creeping so as not to awaken anyone, and returned a minute later. "Right then, see you shortly." And with that, he slipped the invisibility cloak around him and exited Gryffindor Tower.

In the meantime, Harry gathered the others around him.

"Hermione, you and Ron haven't really seen this since the train at the end of the first year. Ginny, you've never seen this. Hagrid gave it to me at the end of our first year, whilst I was in the hospital wing after facing Voldemort." Harry turned his hand to the book, and said, "Engorgio." The book doubled in size, allowing everyone to see the photographs at once, rather than them all being passed around.

At that moment, Hedwig flew in through the window, an envelope tied to her leg. She landed on Harry's shoulder and nipped his ear. Harry hooted back at her, removed the envelope from her leg, scratched her head gently between her tufts, and stroked her belly feathers. Harry opened the letter.

Dear Harry,

As it's everyone else's last night here, I thought you might still be up discussing things, and so I

thought I might return something that is rightfully yours. Nothing as fancy as the staff, or your

father's cloak, but I think you'll appreciate it just the same. I think it would fit nicely on the first

proper blank page, don't you agree?

Sirius

Harry felt inside the envelope and drew out what looked like a tattered and much viewed photograph. In it, a man with incredibly untidy black hair and glasses was holding twin girls in his arms, both with a mop of jet-black hair. The woman, with red curly hair halfway down her back and sparkling green eyes, was holding twin boys, both with a mop of jet-black hair. She was wearing a hospital gown, and sitting upright on a bed with crisp, white sheets, and a barred headboard, the pillows propped up against the headboard easing the strain on her tired back. The babies couldn't be more than a few hours old. Mother and father had their heads touching and were smiling at the camera, eyes crinkling, extremely satisfied, and a look of pure love on their faces. One of the girls in the man's arms frowned, eyes still closed, and kicked a tiny foot slightly.

He felt choked, really sad, yet he couldn't suppress the grin that had formed. He muttered "engorgio", and the photograph doubled in size. He held the photograph forward, so that the others could see. Even Hedwig cocked her head at it, her large amber eyes a little wider than usual - She could see her human in a photograph, and yet he looked different; The glasses were different, and there was no scar.

Harry heard five long gasps, and saw tears in the girls' eyes, Evan bowing his head.

"Hermione. Ginny. Meet Lily and James Potter. Marie, Natalia, Evan. Meet Mum and Dad! Oh, and of course, meet us four!" Harry placed the photo fondly onto the blank page, and sealed it there, staring at it, only half aware of what was going on around him.

"AWWWWWW!" Hermione gushed, a huge grin plastered on her face. "You were so cute!" She threw her arm around Harry's shoulder and punched his arm lightly. "What happened?"

"Voldemort!" Harry replied, grimly, massaging his scar. Hermione looked terrified.

"Oh my G-d! Harry, I was only joking! Please, I'm sorry!"

"What? Hermione! OH! WHAT! NO! Hermione! Don't be sorry! I was... I wasn't thinking properly. Please! You are allowed to joke! I was just thinking for a moment."

"Vot about?" Natalia asked gently.

"You three, actually, and how it could have been if things were different."

There was a pause, and a sombre silence ensued.

"Harry?" Ginny asked. "Is there a blank page at the back?"

"There are several."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I am now! Thanks Gin!" he said and he smiled, hugging her. "That's an excellent idea! I'll ask Colin to do it for me tomorrow! Although I will insist on one with you three in as well!" he added, turning to Ginny and Hermione. And I never even thought of your lot! I need lots of photos with your family! That's something I can get for myself next time I'm in Diagon Alley: a camera!" He grinned. "Tawny, do you know if there's a Wizarding equivalent of a Polaroid?"

"I think so. Why don't you ask at the Post Office the next time we go to Hogsmeade?"

"Thanks! I will."

"Come on, Harry!" Evan said, with a good-natured chuckle. "Stop hogging all the photos! Let us have a look!"

When Ron returned, an hour later, it was to find a look of total bliss on the face of the Gryffindor common room. Six students were lying on their bellies, on the floor, encircling Harry's photo album.

"Hello!" he said, cheerily, "what's this? Started without me, have you?"

"Yep!" said Harry, grinning broadly. "Come on in. Pull up a carpet!"

"Well!" said Hermione, the beginnings of a smirk on her face. "As there is one photo we are all particularly fond of." Harry's face fell. "And as our dear Ron hasn't seen it yet, I think it's only fair that we let him comment!" Harry grimaced slightly. Ron was well known, almost as much as his brothers, for his quick wit, coupled with an unfortunate lack of tact. With an air of foreboding, Harry flipped the page dutifully back to the photograph of the six of them in the hospital.

Harry looked at it and couldn't help but beam, if perhaps slightly wistfully. Evan and the girls smiled gently.

And Ron...

He looked stunned. There was no other way to describe it. He looked completely stupefied.

"Harry..." He then looked at Harry, and a smile broke out on his face too. Although he could sense what might be coming, Harry couldn't let his face fall.

"Harry." Ron said again. "Do you want to know something?" His smile broadened. "I've never seen you looking more like your dad than how you look now, and him in this picture! You look happy. I know I am speaking for Ginny and Hermione as well when I say that I've missed you like this." Two nods confirmed this. "And you look so cute!" A punch on the arm. THERE it was! However, as opposed to a moment before, when he was expecting it, Harry was ready with the return.

"Yes but which one am I?"

"Oh that's easy! You're..." He paused. "Uh... uh... er..."

"Sorry Ron! No Lightning Bolt! It's just me and me!"

"AND you and you!" Ron replied, chuckling, and pointing to James Potter. It was true. Aside from pink and blue blankets, the four tiny figures were completely inseparable. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry nodded.

"Thanks, King!" Ron shook his head smiling.

An hour of quiet, pleasant discussions accompanied by gazing at a plethora of photographs found the majority waning, and soon all agreed that it was time for bed, the most part of food and drink retrieved by Ron, from the devoted House Elves, all but forgotten in their current activity.

Harry awoke that morning with a deep sense of satisfaction, but also, an inexplicable sense of loss. It was a while before he realised the day, and therefore the likely reason. His sense of loss was empathic. He was gaining a family. His family was gaining a family of their own, but at the same time losing various friends. He drew the curtains around his bed to find his suspicions apparently confirmed. Evan was staring out of the window at the grounds below.

"You're going to miss them aren't you?" Evan simply nodded. After a few minutes he said,

"I know it's going to be easier because of the Fire Place links to Salem, and I know my friends would love to meet you and the others, but still, I feel like a complete outsider here."

"So what do you have to do?"

"I know! Make new friends. I guess, I know you're right, I just wish I didn't have to. You know, like, you, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Marie and her friends, and Natalia and her friends could just come to Salem and have that be the end of it."

"You know why that's not possible, don't you."

"Yeah. I just wish things were different."

"Evan, if things were different, we wouldn't be having this conversation. We'd be arguing with each other about girls, and groaning whilst telling our sisters to shut up about boys. And..." he sighed heavily. "And we'd have parents to tell us to stop fighting. We don't have parents, Evan. But we can argue about girls, and tease the girls about boys. This may be a new environment for you, Evan, but we are a family now! Be happy! Or I'll get Aunt Petunia to give you a haircut!" Evan grinned at this.

"I didn't know whether or not you'd remembered that."

"Until recently, I hadn't." He grinned sheepishly. "It's funny how even the worst situations can bring about the best memories." They embraced warmly and, after changing for the day, they went downstairs to find the others in the common room.

After a casual breakfast, there was a mass exodus to Hogsmeade for a final top-up of sweets, tricks, and a last drink in the Three Broomsticks for those members of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.

As the Durmstrang Galleon and the Beauxbatons Carriages were prepared for departure, there was a large gathering in the grounds. There were many hugs exchanged, and more than a few tears, promising exchanges of greeting and visit on a regular basis; be it occasional evening, or a long weekend.

And then they were gone, and Harry found himself with a family to talk to, and an appointment to keep.

"She used to call me her little Sprig!" Harry sighed.

"I've only been given a nickname recently! And it's nothing like a pet name. I must say I really do envy you."

"Do you mind if I ask what your nickname is?"

"Certainly. It's Puzzle."

"May I...?"

"Did you watch the Third Task?"

"No I didn't Harry. It was around then that I started thinking about Mummy and Daddy, and, well..." Myrtle blushed again.

"It slipped your mind." Harry smiled, weakly. "Don't worry about it. You didn't miss that much! Well, the long and short of it is, I correctly answered one of the Sphynx's riddles to let me past her."

"And...?"

"Well, Myrtle..." Harry now was also blushing. "The answer to your question is that, well the name Riddle holds no more appeal for me than it would for you." It was a few moments before his words sunk in, and when they did, she drew a small gasp. "Myrtle, what are your exact memories of that day? Both before and after?"

"I don't know. As I think I already told you, I was hiding in the loos because of that B-" She said something that would make Ron proud, having once heard him use it to describe Rita Skeeter, another illegal Animagus, although no friend of Harry's. He felt his own ears go slightly pink. "Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. I heard this boy saying something in a strange language, the same language you used in here a few years ago. I poked my head out to tell him he wasn't welcome in here. To tell him that he shouldn't be in here. I remember he had really dark hair. In fact, if it weren't for the fact that I was upset and he wasn't supposed to be there, I'd almost think to call him dishy!" The black tint was back in her cheeks. Well I recognised him as that Sixth Year Slytherin prefect who was always in the library, but I never knew his name."

"Tom Riddle." Harry interrupted.

"Sorry?"

"His name was Tom Riddle."

"Was? You mean... GOOD! That GIT killed me!"

"No, Myrtle. He's still alive. Or to be more exact, he has just recently come back to life, as it were! Or rather he has achieved a new body."

"I don't understand." Harry was startled. She looked genuinely puzzled.

"Myrtle," he said. "What do you know about me?"

"What? You mean apart from the obvious stuff? All that "Boy Who Lived" stuff?"

"No. What do you know about the "Boy Who Lived" stuff?"

"Well I know it was You-Know-Who,"

"VOLDEMORT!"

"I know it was him who..."

"Killed my parents. Yeah, but you don't think Lord Voldemort was his real name do you?" he asked, looking genuinely surprised.

"Well yeah, it's not that common, but, outside of the family, neither is Malfoy, is it?"

"True," Harry conceded. "But nonetheless, it is not Voldemort's real name. His real name is Tom Riddle. The same guy that killed you. So naturally, even though I can in fact handle it, my friends want to try and protect me. Besides, I like Puzzle just as much."

"I must say it suits you!" Myrtle said, playing with her hair. There was another pause. Then, "It wasn't just after I died, you know?"

"What?"

"My nickname. They called me Moaning Myrtle from the day I started Hogwarts."

"You mean...?"

"Yeah."

"But surely you had friends at your Muggle Primary School?"

"Oh yeah! She was the best! Stephanie Sparrow, her name was. She... when I occasionally used to do accidental magic, she wanted to see more, and of course I hadn't got a clue what was going on. She'd tease me mercilessly, but she always had a way of making me feel good about myself when she was doing it."

"I got something similar!"

"Ooh! What?"

"I got locked up in a cupboard. Except there was no good feeling behind it!" Myrtle nodded sympathetically. "Did you have any others?"

"A few, but Stephanie was the best. The first few days at Hogwarts were torture. I missed her so much. I stayed over the holidays, just for the experience. Well of course, I wasn't allowed to tell Steph, or owl her, or whatever, and when I returned at the end of my First Year, she had moved to Hong Kong with her father on business. He was a diplomat and had been moved to the British Embassy. Of course he refused to leave his family, so they went to live there."

"Some kids can be really cruel. Especially if one or two of them are really powerful, then the others will follow suit by rights."

"How do you know this?"

"I suppose you could say I am almost the exact opposite. I have my friends now, but before I came to Hogwarts, I had no one... outside my head to play with. I went to the same school as my cousin. My Uncle and Aunt... well, let's just say they're not too keen on me, and so of course, Dudley, my cousin, followed suit. And because he was the biggest bully on the playground," Harry smiled grimly at this, remembering Sirius' description of Voldemort when talking about Wormtail's reasons for returning to him. "Everyone was afraid to make friends with me. At least here, no one knew me, and so I could start afresh." Harry blushed slightly. "I'm sorry it didn't work out the same way for you, Myrtle." She nodded. There was another silence.

"Harry?"

"Mmhm?"

"How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Make friends?"

"What? With Ron, Hermione, and Ginny?"

"Yeah."

"Oh it was easy. All by incident, of course. Ron didn't have anywhere else to sit, so he came into my compartment on the train and we got talking. We already knew Hermione, but we didn't really become friends until we accidentally set that Mountain Troll on her at Halloween. As far as Ginny is concerned," Here he paused for a moment, wondering how best to phrase it without sounding patronising, because, no matter how he looked about it, and how much he welcomed it, the story felt a little patronising to him. "Well, I already knew her through Ron, and we became closer through various events, and now she is just as good a friend. It's quite simple, really. Basically you either wait for them to come to you, or you go to them. Some people you feel drawn towards, others you don't, but if people feel drawn towards you, you might as well give it a go! Tell me Myrtle, what was it that first drew you to Ron, Hermione, and myself?"

"You're the first people in about thirty-five years who just stood there and spoke with me."

"But we were probing you for questions."

"Yeah, but you were interested in what I had to say. It's quite lonely, being a ghost. I'm the youngest by about a hundred and fifty years, not counting the fact that I am also the youngest by about twenty years," Harry had to think that one out for a moment, before he nodded sympathetically. "And it's nice to have people my own age to talk to."

"So why don't you?"

"Why don't I...?"

"Why don't you talk to people your own age? Okay, so I am a little younger, but that is beside the point. For example, which house were you in?"

"I was a Ravenclaw."

"Fair enough. So why not go to the Ravenclaw Common Room now and again for a little chat, just to begin with. You're welcome in the Gryffindor Tower, of course. It's not as if we could stop you coming in, is it!" He grinned. "Or why not visit the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins too. My point is, go to talk to people. See what they're interested in, have a natter. Spy on the Slytherins to see what Malfoy and his lot are up to!" He winked to let her know he wasn't totally serious. "The main thing is, go out and meet the people as it were. And what about the other Ghosts, or the Merfolk, or the House Elves? I wouldn't try the Centaurs to begin with. The only one I've met, whom you're likely to get any sort of a decent conversation out of is Firenze, and he is still a little vague. He makes you think for yourself, which is never a bad thing, but sometimes you want a little more to talk about, a little more direct and less profound. And of course, sometimes a girl just needs another girl to talk to, am I right?" He smiled at her, crinkling his eyes gently. She sighed.

"Yeah. If this was fifty-nine years ago, that other girl would have been Stephanie."

"Myrtle. You will never find another Stephanie, but why don't you try for another friend? Another girl friend? Plus, things are a little different now. Muggle children don't play with Wheel-and-Sticks, and Jacks, they play with video games and electronic yo-yos. You can expand your own horizon, can't you?"

"I never really looked at it like that before, thank you, Harry!" Harry winked at her.

"Oh, and Myrtle?"

"Harry?"

"You do realise that after a while, people are going to want to use this bathroom, don't you?"

"I know." she sighed. I guess I'd better talk to Filch, eh!"

"Might be an idea! "

"You off to bed now, Harry?" He looked at his watch. It was half past eleven.

"Yeah, I think I'd better. I've got classes tomorrow."

"Do you mind if I walk with you?" Harry raised his eyebrow, and cocked his head, making it obvious that he was suppressing a remark. She caught it quickly and giggled.

"No of course not. Come on."

They walked in silence for some minutes. Or rather he walked and she floated. Calm, collected, and happy. A companionable silence. Suddenly, a thought crossed Harry's mind.

"Myrtle? Silly question, I know, but what's your name?"

"Eh?"

"I mean you're no more Moaning Myrtle than I'm The Boy Who Lived. They're stupid nicknames. I'm Harry James Potter, what's your real name?"

"OH!" She flushed, seemed rather pleased, and flattered that he seemed interested. Harry was slightly surprised that he didn't find himself groaning at this. "Actually it's Myrtle Bridges."

"Delighted to meet you Myrtle Bridges!" Harry said, smiling, and extending a hand.

"Charmed, Harry Potter!" Myrtle replied, taking his hand and taking the hem of her skirt in her other hand, and performing a slight curtsey, giggling again.

Outside the portrait of the fat lady, Myrtle stopped.

"You're not coming up, Myrtle?"

"Not tonight, Harry, I'm tired. I prefer to sleep in my own room."

"Where do ghosts sleep?"

"Oh, anywhere. I sleep in my toilet, simply because I find the place comforting." Harry looked at her, startled. "No seriously. It's a solid point in my own personal history that I can cling to."

"What so if I were to sneak down at, say, half past four, I'd find you floating above your cubicle, snoring?" She chuckled appreciatively.

"Something like that! Anyway, goodnight! Puzzle!"

"Goodnight, Sprig." Tears began to well in Myrtle's eyes, and she started to sob. "Oh! I'm really sorry, Myrtle, I didn't think. It just seemed natural after the line of conversation."

"Oh, Oh, I know, Harry." She said, sniffling, and attempting to dry her eyes on the sleeve of her Ravenclaw pullover. "It's just that I really have been missing them recently. I guess I'm just feeling a little sorry for myself at the moment!"

"A little?" Harry crinkled his eyes again, to let her know he meant it amicably.

"Touché!"

"I didn't know you spoke French."

"I don't." She said, sniffing again, and this time smiling as well. "Anyway, I'm tired. I need to get to sleep so I can start thinking on how I am going to make Hogwarts a better place!"

"You do that!" he said, punching her lightly on the arm. "Goodnight Myrtle."

"Goodnight Harry."