Star-Crossed

Chapter Forty-Six: The Diary

A harsh thunderclap illuminated the dark sky outside. But inside, Harry, Ron and I were walking along the Grand Staircase.

I flinched with the passing bout of thunder and lightning. Storms had never been my most favoured thing on the planet. When we were young, Harry would have to comfort me back to sleep if a thunderstorm passed over the house in Little Whining. Or else I probably would have stayed awake the rest of the night.

That fear hadn't quite left me as I aged, only grew alongside me. A particular distaste for bad weather.

"Have either of you spoken to Hermione?" Ron was asking, pulling me from my bout of nerves.

I shook my head in reply as Harry shrugged. "She should be out of the Hospital in a few days, when she stops coughing up furballs."

"Hello! Wait for us!" A voice called from behind us, further down the stairs. The three of us turned and found Dahlia sprinting up the steps to join us. Elena not far behind her.

Holiday break had ended a few days ago, over the weekend. And with it, the return of the other students and our friends.

We patiently waited for the two girls to catch up and then promptly went back to climbing the seemingly endless staircase.

We chatted amongst ourselves for a moment, catching Elena up on all the happenings from over break and while she was gone until a soft splash caught our attention.

At the top of the steps, Ron's foot had landed in a puddle of water that was threatening to spill over the edge.

"What's this?" Harry raised a brow.

Ron's nose wrinkled as he stared at the water. "Yuck..."

The group of us looked at it in pure confusion for a moment before Dahlia let out a deep sigh.

"Looks like Moaning Myrtle's flooded the bathroom again."

We moved down the hall until we arrived at Myrtle's abandoned bathroom, coming inside and finding the young ghost sitting on the ledge of the window, high up on the back wall of the room. She was whimpering softly, as though she'd just finished a large crying session.

"Come to throw something else at me, have you?" She asked, completely and utterly defeated.

"Why would we throw something at you?" I asked, genuinely confused as to what she meant.

"Don't ask me," She grumbled, head whipping toward us with an incredulous glare, "Here I am, minding my own business, when someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me."

Ron, dear sweet Ronald, not knowing when not to ask stupid questions, decided to open his mouth. "But...it can't hurt if someone throws something at you. I mean, it'd just go straight through you, right?"

"Sure!" the question obviously outraged the already sensitive ghost, "Let's all throw books at Myrtle, 'cause she can't feel it!" She soared straight into his face, absolutely fuming, "Ten points if you get it through her stomach!" She punched her fist through Ron's abdomen and his face paled. "Fifty points if it goes through her head!" She then shoved her arm through his face and the poor boy stumbled back, wiping at his face vigorously.

"But who threw it at you anyway?" Harry was the one to ask now.

Myrtle's attitude took an entire one-eighty switch, nearly making my head spin. I shared a look of pure shock with the others as she spoke sweetly to my brother.

"Oh, I don't know...I didn't see them." She shrugged, batting her eyes at him. I had to stifle a snort.

"I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death...and it fell..." She sniffled, a new wave of tears welling in her eyes, "through the top of my head." She wailed as she flew off again, perturbed at the thought as she dove right into one of the toilets, sending up an entire new wave of sewage water.