Stuck AIAOY 2

Chapter 5

"No, he said 'again.'"  Rebecca pushed her glasses up her nose, trying to explain what had happened the next morning with the others--in the girls' bathrooms--and only finding herself growing frustrated.  "Dumbledore said the chamber was open again and then Dobby did, too."  

"Dobby?"  Harry asked immediately.  "How...What did that-"

"Dobby said he was sorry."  Rebecca interrupted, not going to hear a word against the house elf.  She felt horribly for him and was finding it impossible to stop thinking about the conditions in which he said he lived in.  "He said a lot, actually.  But near the end he said that history was going to repeat itself--That was before he left, right before they brought Colin in."

The bathroom fell silent at that.  Harry felt a deep shame that his last words to the first year had been him telling the younger boy off.  Harry couldn't think on it for long though, not without feeling as if his guilt would swallow him whole.  "So the Chamber of Secrets has been open before."

Ron scoffed, shaking his head from where he stood against the wall.  "Of course, don't you see?  Lucius Malfoy must have opened it when he was at school here and now he's taught Draco how to do it."

"Maybe."  Hermione read over the recipe that nearly filled a foot of parchment.  "We'll have to wait for the Polyjuice Potion to know for sure."

"You mean if we don't get caught."  Ron looked to Rebecca for an ally, but didn't find one.  Rebecca had reached forward just before Hermione poured in a level scoop of lacewing flies to add a few more, feeling that it was necessary.  Hermione wanted to argue against the deviation, but Rebecca had saved she and Hermione's potion a few days earlier in class by a similar out-of-the-blue action and Hermione hadn't forgotten.  "Enlighten me as to why we're brewing this potion in broad daylight in the middle of the girls' lavatory?"

"No one comes in here."  Hermione said matter of factly, waiting for a nod in agreement from Rebecca before the next ingredient was added.  

"Ever."  Rebecca echoed.  An itch grew inside her head though, one that felt almost similar to the Quidditch match when she had warned Harry not to use the very arm that she had and subsequently had the bone shattered.  It grew up from the base of her skull and settled against her temples, growing in pressure and near-pain steadily before disappearing as instantly as it had appeared.

"Why not?"  Ron asked, looking around.  "Nice enough, for a lavatory."

"Moaning Myrtle."  Hermione answered thinking it was enough.

"Who the bloody hell is Moaning Myrtle and why is she hanging about the loo?"  Ron asked, entirely unaware of the fact that the subject of his queries had appeared and hung over his shoulder in shock.

"I'm Moaning Myrtle!"  The ghostly girl shouted, her voice whiny as ever.  Rebecca didn't like to go into that bathroom, not after Moaning Myrtle had barged into the stall she had gone into with shouts of seeing the Lost-no-longer Potter.  "I wouldn't expect you to know me."  Rebecca instantly remembered the other reason that she despised this bathroom and the contents therein: All Myrtle did was mope and feel sorry for herself.  "Who would ever talk about ugly, miserable, moping Moaning Myrtle?"

"Not anyone on purpose."  Rebecca muttered, gaining herself a sharp look from Harry that silenced anymore of her quips.

"I heard that!"  Moaning Myrtle let out a high pitched scream her entire float from above the circular sink into the toilet, a flood of water gushing out of the bowl and spreading on the floor as a result of her theatrics.

"She's a little sensitive."  Hermione remarked, reading over the recipe one last time.

"Really?"  Ron asked, not cruelly.  There was something particularly funny about someone storming off into a toilet upset.  "You don't say?  I couldn't tell."