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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜɪʀᴛʏ ғɪᴠᴇ

Hermione remained in the hospital for several weeks after the polyjuice potion turned her head into a cat, and gave her a tail as an extra annoyance. There was a flurry of rumours about her disappearance when the rest of the school had come back from their Christmas Holidays, because of course, everyone thought that she had been attacked.

Harry, Ron and I went to visit her every evening. And when the new term started, she'd asked us to bring her each day's homework.

"If I'd sprouted whiskers, I'd take a break from work." Ron spoke as he dropped a pile of books onto the bedside table.
"Don't be silly, Ron." Hermione shook her head. "I've got to keep up." And her voice dropped into a whisper. "I don't supposed you've got any new leads?"
"Nothing." Harry shook his head.
"I was so sure it was Malfoy." Ron added, for the hundredth time.
"What's that?" I asked, pointing to something gold sticking out from her pillow.
"Just a get well card." Hermione spoke as she tried poking it out of sight, but Ron was too quick and grabbed it, opening it to read it out loud.
"To Miss Granger-" He started. "Wishing you a speedy recovery, from your concerned teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, The Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award."
"What in the world." I spoke slowly, looking from her letter to Hermione.
"You seep with this under your pillow?" Ron asked her, disgusted.
But Hermione was spared from answering as Madam Pomfrey pushed us out and ordered us to leave.

"Is Lockhart the most smarmiest bloke you've ever
met, or what?" Ron said as we walked about the castle.
"He definitely needs to be humbled." I shook my head but the three of us came to a stop when we'd heard a loud, angry outburst form the floor above.
"...That's Filch." Harry muttered as we continued moving, running up the stairs.
"Wait-" I grabbed both Ron and Harry's shoulders, and ducked us out of sight. ""We can't get caught, in case-"
"You don't think someone else has been attacked, do you?" Ron asked me.
"Can't be sure." I shook my head. "But I haven't heard any whispering. Have you?" I asked Harry.
"No." Harry too, shook his head. "We'd still better stay out of sight, though."
"Even more work for me!" Filch sounded hysterical nearby. "Mopping all night, like I haven't got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I'm going to Dumbledore." His footsteps and voice got further and further until a door slammed and he'd left.

Sensing it was clear, I moved out of our hiding spot, gesturing the other two to come with me. Filch had clearly been manning his usual lookout post. We were once again, at the spot where Mrs. Norris had been attacked, and looked down the hallway, we saw what Filch had been shouting about. A long, flood of water stretched over half the corridor, it looked as though it was still seeking from under the door of Myrtle's bathroom. Now that Filch had shut up, we could hear Myrtle's wails echoing from the bathroom walls.
"Now what's up with her?" Ron asked.
"Let's see." Harry spoke, pulling up his robes.
"...Seriously?" I sighed and copied Harry, making sure not to get my robes wet, either, as we made it through the puddle and into the even more soaking wet bathroom.

"What's up, Myrtle?" Harry asked her, hearing Myrtle crying from her usual toilet.
"Who's that?" Myrtle snapped through sobs. "Come to throw something else at me?"
"Oh my God." I rolled my eyes. "She does this every other month! Claims someone's throwing something at her." I shook my head as I spoke. "It's just for attention."
"No!" Myrtle bellowed. "Someone threw something at me, again! You were here last time!" Myrtle flew out from her stall, and floating in front of my face. "You heard them running away, I know you did!"
'𝑶𝒉, 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒉. 𝑰 𝒅𝒊𝒅.' I giggled to myself.
"You think it's funny?"
"A little bit." I held back a second laugh. "But it doesn't matter if someone throws something at you, it's not like you could feel it."
"Yeah." Harry agreed. "It would just go through you, wouldn't it?"
Myrtle flew high up to the ceiling and shrieked.
"Let's all throw books at Myrtle, because she can't feel it! Ten points if you can get it through her stomach! FIFTY points if it goes through her HEAD! Ha, HA!"
"...Dramatic I muttered.
"Who threw it at you, anyway?" Harry asked her.
"I don't know." She floated back down, pouting and crossing her arms. "I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it fell right through the top of my head." She pointed over to the sinks. "It's over there. It got washed out."