𝗗𝗢𝗡'𝗧 𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗞¹⁻⁷ [HARRY POTTER X Y/N]

𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗇: 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗋𝗒

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙑𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙎𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩 𝘿𝙞𝙖𝙧𝙮 | 𝖲𝖤𝖵𝖤𝖭𝖳𝖤𝖤𝖭
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

(A MONTH EARLIER)

"IS LOCKHART THE smarmiest bloke you've ever met, or what?" Ron said to Harry as they waved their goodbyes to Hermione, leaving the Hospital Wing at once.

Ron was just saying he wished he had asked Hermione how many rat tails you were supposed to add to a Hair-Raising Potion, when an angry outburst from the floor above reached their ears.

"That's Filch," Harry muttered, as they hurried up the stairs and paused, out of sight, listening hard.

"You don't think someone else's been attacked?" said Ron tensely.

They stood still, their heads inclined towards Filch's voice, which sounded quite hysterical.

". . . even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven't got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I'm going to Dumbledore . ."

His footsteps receded and they heard a distant door slam.

They poked their heads around the corner. Filch had clearly been manning his usual lookout post: they were once again on the spot where Mrs Norris had been attacked. They saw at a glance what Filch had been shouting about.

A great flood of water stretched over half the corridor, and it looked as though it was still seeping from under the door of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Now Filch had stopped shouting, they could hear Myrtle's wails echoing off the bathroom walls.

"Now what's up with her?" said Ron.

"Let's go and see," said Harry, and holding their robes over their ankles they stepped through the great wash of water to the door bearing its 'Out of Order' sign, ignored it as always, and entered.

Moaning Myrtle was crying, if possible, louder and harder than ever before.

She seemed to be hiding down her usual toilet. It was dark in the bathroom, because the candles had been extinguished in the great rush of water that had left both walls and floor soaking wet.

"What's up, Myrtle?" said Harry.

"Who's that?" glugged Myrtle miserably. "Come to throw something else at me?"

Harry waded across to her cubicle and said, "Why would I throw something at you?"

"Don't ask me," Myrtle shouted, emerging with a wave of yet more water, which splashed onto the already sopping floor. "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me . ."