HIS CHOSEN GIRL [MAJOR EDITING/REWRITING]

second year ➤the book

HIS CHOSEN GIRL
chapter forty eight-the book
[Your P.O.V]
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I walk through the castle along with Ron and Harry on our way back to the common room. We're supposed to meet Hermione there although she's probably still in the library cramming for exams despite the fact that it's still winter break.

Words cannot describe how relieved I am that my friends have began speaking to me again. We're better as a unit, all of us. Not to mention, I'm highly convinced I was losing my bloody mind without them. Unfortunately, we're still dons away from hiding the answer to the petrifications, and our time is running out.

As I'm caught up in my own thoughts, I allow myself to lose concentration on my surroundings as Ron, Harry, and I make our way up the staircase to the third floor. Because of this, I slip on something on the final step that nearly sends me tumbling down but two steady hands steady me before I get the chance to do so.

"You ok?" Harry asks concerned.

"Fine," I nod. "What did I slip on though?"

Ron stares at the ground, eyes widening. "What the?"

I follow his gaze and grow confused myself. The entire corridor has been flooded. So much so in fact, that it looks like a lake. Filch is going to go absolutely mental when he sees it. Speaking of which, we'd better clear the scene quickly. He already thinks we killed his cat after all, so this would be the cherry on top, he'd have us expelled in record timing.

"C'mon," Harry says, wanting to investigate. He leads us down the hallway to find out the source of the water.

"Yuck!" Ron exclaims as we turn onto another corridor, the water on this one soaking into our shoes.

"It's just water, Ron. It's not gonna kill you," I reply with an eye roll at the boy's dramaticness.

"Looks like Moaning Myrtle's flooded the bathroom," Harry notes.

We walk slowly into the girl's lavatory and I nearly slip a second time. All of the sinks are turned on and the faint sound of sobbing lingers in the air. Harry points upwards and I notice her sitting on the ledge of a window, crying softly to herself until she sees us.

"Come to throw something else at me?" She asks quietly. I frown and look at the two boys who seem equally as lost.

"Why would I throw something at you?" Harry asks kindly.

Myrtle shrugs. "Don't ask me. Here I am, minding my own business and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me."

"But, it can't hurt if someone throws something at you. I mean it'll just go right through you," Ron says. I smack my hand to my head in frustration and groan at the obliviousness this boy possesses.