The girls' bathroom on the second floor.
It was a dark, stuffy place.
Beneath a large, cracked, stained mirror was a row of stone basins with peeling surfaces. The floor was wet and slick; a few candle stubs burned low in their brackets, giving off a dim light that made the tiles look even more sinister.
The paint on the stall doors was flaking and scored with scratches; one stall door hung crookedly from a broken hinge, swaying every time the draft caught it.
Curfew had long passed. The place was deserted.
Except for two strange voices.
"Someone's come in—oh, you're going to get caught. Once you're caught, he'll definitely talk about you, you know."
Sean knew that was Peeves's voice. A moment later, he saw a ghost timidly poke her head out.
She was short and plump. Her face was gloomy and sullen, half-hidden behind long, straight hair and a pair of thick, pearly glasses.
As soon as she peeked out, she recoiled like a startled ostrich.
Sean heard Peeves sneer slyly:
"He's seen you now, oh I bet he's talking about you! Remember what they all used to say?"
"Are you talking about me?"
Moaning Myrtle shot out, sniffing loudly.
"I wasn't…"
Sean's words were quickly cut off.
"Don't lie to me."
Myrtle panted, tears streaming down her cheeks in torrents. Peeves laughed gleefully behind her.
"You think I don't know what they call me behind my back? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Pathetic, moaning, miserable Myrtle!"
"You forgot 'spotty.'"
Peeves whispered in her ear.
Myrtle broke down again, sobbing even harder.
Peeves started pelting her with little stones, shouting:
"Spotty! Spotty!"
Everything changed very quickly. The moment Sean silently fixed his gaze on Peeves, that annoying face froze in midair.
"Merlin—why's it you—"
Peeves shot off like a streak, fleeing while shouting over his shoulder:
"Didn't see anything, milord, didn't see a thing!"
The bathroom finally fell quiet.
Only Moaning Myrtle remained, floating above the cistern of a toilet, quietly sniffling.
Sean said nothing. He simply waited.
Myrtle—she was the first Hogwarts student Tom ever killed.
She had suffered all kinds of unfairness in life, and found no peace in death.
"Peeves won't be back."
When her sobbing finally died down, Sean said.
"Maybe… that'd be best… But this is the girls' bathroom. You're not a girl."
Myrtle said thickly, eyeing him with suspicion.
"I'm here to ask you something. How did you die?"
Sean said, knowing that question would actually cheer her up.
Myrtle's whole expression changed in an instant.
Judging by her face, no one had ever asked her this—at least, not in a way that made her feel… honored.
"Oh, it was terrible,"
she said, almost relish in her voice,
"It happened right here. I died in this cubicle, I remember it perfectly. Olive Hornby had just made fun of my glasses, said I looked like a four-eyed dog, so I ran in here to cry.
I locked the door and was sobbing, and then I heard someone come in. They were speaking in this funny sort of way—I thought it must've been another language. But what really made me cross was, I heard a boy's voice. So I opened the door to tell him to clear off to his own bathroom, and then—"
Myrtle puffed out her chest, quite pleased with herself.
"I died."
The bathroom sank into a short silence.
Outside, the gloomy September sky drizzled a fine, steady rain. Not strong enough to rattle the windows, but just enough to soak the sleeping castle to the bone.
"Do you know who killed you?"
Sean asked.
"I don't,"
Myrtle said, lowering her voice mysteriously,
"I just remember seeing a pair of huge, horrible yellow eyes. It was like my whole body was grabbed and lifted up, and then I just… drifted away…"
She stared at him, dazed.
"Then I came back, you know. I had to find Olive Hornby and give her what she deserved. Oh, she never stopped mocking my glasses."
"She must've been terrified when she saw you."
Sean said.
"Of course! Of course! You should've seen her face—she regretted everything… So, so, I decided to let her off."
Myrtle's mood improved rapidly.
"I know you're here for a reason. Nobody wants to listen to a moaning, miserable ghost chatter on. But what you said made me happy. Go on then, if you've got questions, I'll answer."
Sean fell silent again.
The centaur had been right: the innocent are always the first to be hurt. It had been that way for centuries.
"If the killer were found and punished… would that make you happier?"
Sean asked.
"Why that question—ah, ah—well I only ever cry, you know. I never had any happiness here, only sadness. Now that I'm dead, they still don't leave me alone.
All I want… is for people not to talk about me behind my back. I have feelings too, you know, even if I'm dead."
Myrtle said, miserable again.
"I'll try to help."
Sean said.
"My, my… I don't see many like you. But you can't help, I'll tell you a secret—people's mouths never stay shut!"
Myrtle said with a strange pride.
"Oh, right. What's your name?"
"Sean Green."
He answered quietly.
"Ah—you're that Sean Green! Goodness!"
Myrtle clapped a hand over her mouth.
"What?"
Sean didn't quite follow.
"You're very famous, all over the castle. The house-elves say you're some kind of knight‐lord; those portraits praise you to the skies; and I know there are quite a few witches gossiping about you—that… good sort of gossip…"
Myrtle rattled all this off in one breath, blushing a little.
"I'd be happy to tell you. For someone like you… If you want to find those eyes, they'd be about… there."
She waved vaguely toward the sinks in front of her.
Sean went over to look. At first glance, the basin seemed absolutely ordinary, but when he leaned in closer, he saw it:
On the side of a copper tap, there was a tiny snake engraved into the metal.
Sean knew he'd found the entrance.
All he needed now was to go and find Harry. Unfortunately, at this point Harry still hadn't realized he was a Parselmouth.
And it wouldn't be until Harry discovered that truth that Dumbledore would first begin to suspect Harry himself might be a Horcrux.
~~~
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