The War Hammer of Hogwarts - Harry Potter

Moaning Myrtle

We turned a corner and found ourselves at the end of the very corridor where the attack had happened.  We stopped and looked.  The scene was just as it had been that night, except that there was no stiff cat hanging from the torch bracket, and an empty chair stood against the wall bearing the message.

Pieck: That's where Filch has been keeping guard.

YN: Everyone make sure to put at least three feet between you and the person closest to you.

Pieck giggled.

Harry: Can't hurt to have a poke around.

He dropped his bag and got down on his hands and knees so that he could crawl along, searching for clues.

Harry: Scorch marks!  Here, and here-

Hermione: Come and look at this!  This is weird...

We crossed to the window next to the message on the wall.  Hermione was pointing at the topmost pane, where around twenty spiders were scuttling, apparently fighting to get through a small crack in the glass.  A long, silvery thread was dangling like a rope, as though they had all climbed it in their hurry to get outside.

Hermione: Have you ever seen spiders act like that?

YN: Nope.

Harry: Have you Ron?  Ron?

We looked behind us.  Ron was standing well back, and seemed to be fighting the impulse to run.

Harry: What's up?

Ron: I... I don't like spiders.

Hermione: I never knew that.  You've used spiders in potions loads of times.

Ron: I don't mind them dead.

YN: That's actually fair.

He was carefully looking anywhere but at the window.

Ron: I just don't like the way they move.

Hermione giggled.

Ron: It's not funny!  If you must know, when I was three, Fred turned my... my teddy bear into a dirty great spider because I broke his toy broomstick.  You wouldn't like them either if you'd been holding your bear and suddenly it had too many legs and...

He broke off, shuddering.  Hermione, Pieck, and I were fighting back laughter, but Harry decided to change the subject.

Harry: Remember all that water on the floor?  Where did that come from?  Someone's mopped it up.

Ron: It was about here.

He walked a few paces past Filch's chair and pointed.

Ron: Level with this door.

He reached for the brass doorknob but suddenly withdrew his hand as though he'd been burned.

Pieck: What's the matter?

Ron: Can't go in there, that's a girls' toilet.

Hermione: Oh, Ron, there won't be anyone in there.  That's Moaning Myrtle's place.  Come on, let's have a look.

YN: Oh, great.

I sighed.  Ignoring the large "Out of Order" sign, she opened the door.  It was the gloomiest, most depressing bathroom I had ever set foot in.  Under a large, cracked and spotted mirror were a row of chipped stone sinks.  The floor was damp and reflected the dull light given off by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders.  The wooden doors to the stalls were flaking and scratched and one of them was dangling off its hinges.  Hermione put her fingers to her lips and set off towards the end stall.