Days at Hogwarts

Chapter 173 The Weeping Myrtle

The girls' restroom is located in the middle of the corridor on the second floor of the castle.

Normally, people at Hogwarts wouldn't describe this washroom as "the girls' washroom in the middle of the second-floor corridor," but rather as "Mommy's Weeping Washroom."

Meanwhile, Loren was dealing with the short, plump ghost girl, half of her body sticking out of the cubicle door while the other half remained inside.

Straight, long hair covered her cheeks, and large, pearl-colored glasses obscured her upper face. A melancholic and gloomy air emanated from her mouth and nose, making it hard to imagine what she would look like smiling.

"I'm really not a pervert. I came here to wait for someone, and this restroom has been abandoned, okay?" Loren explained, spreading his hands.

He had arranged to meet Dumbledore here that evening, and he arrived at the bathroom a little early, only to be entangled by Moaning Myrtle.

"You're right, who would want to see me living here?" Myrtle suddenly became depressed and started sobbing. "Even when I was alive, no one cared about me."

Why is she crying now...? Loren looked at her helplessly. He had heard that Moghan was difficult to deal with, but he didn't expect her to be this difficult.

As the sound of Mommy's crying rang out, the toilet seemed to have been switched on, and the sound of water rushing through the flushing chamber rang out. However, the water did not flow down the drain; instead, it overflowed from the toilet bowl.

A shallow pool of water flowed out from under the wooden door of the cubicle, gradually spreading across the entire bathroom floor.

The loud sobbing and the overflowing water from the toilet made Loren frown. He walked towards the Myrtle's stall on a clean, dry floor and pushed open the wooden door.

Moss had grown in the crevices of the old-fashioned toilet, and water kept flowing out of the tank and overflowing onto the floor.

Myrtle huddled in the corner, her eyes wide, wanting to scream at Loren.

"I heard you often spend time in the toilet?" Loren interrupted her. Although he didn't know what the living conditions for ghosts were, this toilet certainly didn't meet them.

For some reason, Myrtle felt cared for. Unlike the other young wizards, she didn't wallow in self-pity and throw a tantrum at Loren. Instead, she answered in a choked, tearful voice, "Yes, Myrtle lives here. Myrtle has nowhere to go. Ghosts and wizards all despise her, so she has to hide herself in the toilet."

Loren's temples twitched a few times: "Why didn't you call someone to fix it?"

Myrtle felt even more aggrieved: "This washroom was originally abandoned. Some little witches even said that I threw a tantrum and splashed water everywhere, so this place became my territory. Filch told me to clean it up myself."

This washroom hasn't been used for decades, so it's impossible for debris to clog the pipes. Loren guessed that there was probably a section of air coming up from the sewer and getting stuck in the bend in the pipe, preventing it from escaping and causing a blockage.

He waved his wand, using Transfiguration to manipulate the water and air, working together to expel the air stuck in the bend in the pipe. Soon, the sound of air being expelled came from the pipe, and the overflowing water flowed smoothly into the sewer.

The water tank had simply had a loose latch inside, which was solved with a transformation spell. While it was at it, the moss was also magically pulled out and flushed away.

"Alright, the water won't overflow anymore." Loren put away his wand and walked outside. Although his hands were clean, he wouldn't feel at ease unless he washed them properly.

Myrtle's eyes, hidden behind her thick glasses, lit up with delight. Her ghostly form darted merrily between the tank and the toilet, shrieking, "It's fixed! It's fixed! It won't be wet here anymore!"

After making a fuss for a while, she heard the sound of water being turned on to wash hands outside, and floated unsteadily to Loren's side, saying gratefully, "What's your name?"

"Loren, Loren Morgan." Loren shook the water droplets off his hands, looked at Myrtle who seemed much more normal, and felt a mix of emotions.

Ghosts are mostly like this: after their bodies die, their souls cannot find peace and transform into ghosts that are neither truly dead nor alive. They cannot feel hot or cold, cannot touch solid objects, and cannot taste food. Their ultimate pleasure is smelling moldy, worm-infested cheese. Many ghosts are driven insane by the torment of their false bodies over long periods of time.

The ghost Loren encountered most often was Professor Binns, whose lessons on the history of magic were nothing more than repetitions of his actions in life. He couldn't recall most of his students' names, couldn't recount recent major events, and his annual final exams were always identical to those in previous years' papers.

Nick, who is almost headless, Ms. Grey, Barrow the Blood Man, and the weeping Myrtle are mostly normal, but when they are not, they are completely neurotic.

"Loren Morgan, Loren Morgan! I'll remember you!" Myrtle repeated with delight, her heart fluttering like a joyful bird soaring through the air.

"Can you tell me about your story?" Loren carefully chose his words, worried about touching on Myrtle's painful past. "I mean—about the cause of your death."

Mommy Woods wore a cheerful smile, showing no sadness whatsoever. On the contrary, she was pleased and even honored that someone had inquired about her death.

"Oh dear, that's a terrible thing," she said with relish. "I remember it very clearly, right here, in this very bathroom. Oliver Humbell was laughing at my glasses, saying I looked like a four-eyed dog..."

It's a simple, uneventful story. To be honest, it's not exciting at all. There are no twists or turns, no scares, and nothing worth singing about.

Myrtle Warren, a Muggle-born witch from Ravenclaw, is often ridiculed for her appearance due to her thick, unfashionable glasses and acne-covered face.

One day in 1943, Myrtle, who had been insulted, hid in this washroom to cry as usual. She was attacked and killed by a mysterious monster. Before she died, she only saw a pair of frighteningly large yellow eyes.

"Even when I was alive, no one cared about me. It took them a very, very long time to find my body..." Myrtle's voice rose and fell, trying to make the story more exciting.

But ultimately, there was no story worth writing about.

A girl who had little presence in life was only dragged out and scolded when someone needed to vent their emotions. No one noticed her death. As a ghost, Myrtle sat in the bathroom, processing the reality of her death.

Oliver Humbell walked into the washroom and said, "Are you sulking here again, Myrtle?" "Professor Dippert sent me to see you—" Then she suddenly saw my corpse!

Suddenly, Myrtle became excited and smug. "Oh! She could never forget that scene her whole life, not even on her deathbed..."

Loren listened silently.

Myrtle, now a ghost, was unwilling to accept her fate. Unable to understand the cause of her death and unable to swallow her anger, she began to stalk Oliver Humboldt in ghost form. Oliver Humboldt quickly sought help from the Ministry of Magic to restrain Myrtle's behavior.

Later, Moaninger stayed at Hogwarts, where she usually stayed in the bathroom where she died. Occasionally, she would be swept into the lake when she was off guard.

Later, the washroom was gradually abandoned and hardly anyone came.

As the story unfolds, memories buried deep within the soul are awakened, bringing with them a surge of emotions.

Myrtle murmured, "How can the Ministry of Magic interfere with a dead person? How can they interfere with a ghost?"

"Why did no one care about me while I was alive?"

Why is no one doing anything about Oliver Humbert?

"Why isn't anyone doing anything about that monster in the restroom?"

……

Mistress Myrtle kept muttering to herself, ignoring Loren beside her, and instinctively drifted towards the stall, curling up in the toilet.

Loren opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything. Yes, why? Why was fate so cruel to a young girl?

Such a short life, life offered her no kindness or preferential treatment whatsoever.

(End of this chapter)