Eda had no way of knowing what Myrtle felt after returning once more to the girls' bathroom, but in Myrtle's story, the injustice faced by Muggle-born wizards was revealed vividly.
Isolation, mockery, insults, and curses—such treatment was no different from bullying. Even her death had been ignored. If Armando Dippet hadn't ordered Olive Hornby to search for the missing Myrtle, who knew how long her body would have lain in the bathroom before anyone found it.
After her death, Myrtle returned to the world of the living as a ghost and began haunting Olive Hornby, who had once mocked her—she even disrupted Hornby's brother's wedding. Unable to bear it, Hornby turned to the Ministry of Magic for help, forcing the Ministry to restrict Myrtle's actions. From then on, Myrtle was bound to remain at Hogwarts.
All of Myrtle's revenge was meant to remind Hornby that her death had been Hornby's doing. Hornby, tormented by the ghost to the point of being unable to live normally, was indeed pitiable—but Myrtle was even more so.
When Myrtle's parents came to the school, all they could do was cry over their daughter's lifeless body, unable to see the ghost of their daughter standing beside it.
Myrtle Warren had never done anything terrible in life; she was just an ordinary, somewhat tearful girl. She didn't deserve such a fate.
To be so close to her parents, yet unseen by them; unable to embrace or comfort them—what could be sadder than that?
After hearing Myrtle's story, Eda felt a heavy weight settle in her chest, her steps growing slower and heavier. She, too, had once felt something similar to what Myrtle had endured.
...
They had found the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets and uncovered the truth about the basilisk, yet the system still hadn't announced the completion of her task. Eda thought that perhaps it was because Dumbledore hadn't yet managed to enter the Chamber—that must be why the mission hadn't been settled.
In the Gryffindor dormitory, Eda lay on her side on the bed, staring blankly out the window.
The next day at Hogwarts was just like any other—classes, chatter, laughter, and play. Since no new attacks had occurred for a long time, the students were finally beginning to relax.
Mirrors still lined the corridors, and many students would pause in front of them to tidy their robes as they passed.
Although they had already discovered the location of the Chamber of Secrets, Dumbledore, strangely enough, hadn't taken any further action since his first attempt. He hadn't continued to explore the Chamber, nor had he gone down to slay the basilisk.
Perhaps he was waiting for the Heir of Slytherin to slip up and expose themselves—so that when the time came, he could capture both the culprit and the creature in one decisive move.
If the Heir were to sense danger or find out that the basilisk had been destroyed, they might very well disappear beneath the surface, hiding away just as Voldemort had fifty years ago.
And if that happened, dragging them back out into the open would be nearly impossible—like searching for a needle in a haystack.
Even though it was Eda who had uncovered the clues to the Chamber, it now seemed as though the matter had nothing more to do with her.
She no longer went searching for hidden secrets around the school; instead, her days followed a simple routine—between the Gryffindor common room and the Room of Requirement, back and forth.
Because of the Chamber attacks that year, Eda hadn't been able to study Potions under Snape's supervision, nor had she gone to the passage under the 4th floor to spar with the puppet constructs. Yet, rather than falling behind, she had actually made remarkable progress.
Though she rarely ventured beyond her usual haunts, Eda spent her time reviewing every spell and charm she had learned, organizing and refining her understanding.
The years of accumulated study had benefited her immensely—her grasp of magic and magical energy had deepened, allowing her to walk the path of power more steadily and swiftly.
While Eda was feeling fulfilled and at peace with her daily routine, there was someone else in the school who was anything but happy.
His once dazzling smile had dimmed, his curls had lost their luster, and a report published in the Daily Prophet had thrown him into utter turmoil.
Yes—the man in question was none other than Gilderoy Lockhart, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
The special preparations for Valentine's Day failed to become a surprise and instead turned into a fright. By now, Gilderoy Lockhart had become the most hated person in the entire school—even the other professors looked at him with open disdain.
His reputation was completely ruined, and everyone treated him like an idiot and a fraud.
The two words "idiot" and "fraud" might seem contradictory, yet they fit Lockhart perfectly at the same time. Among the students, he was now referred to as "that man who smiles like an idiot" and "that shameless con artist of a professor." Worse yet, these nicknames were starting to spread beyond Hogwarts' walls.
But even that alone wasn't enough to make Lockhart panic. The students' opinions couldn't affect his fanbase—at least not immediately. However, in the past few days, the Daily Prophet had been publishing one scathing article after another, each more brutal than the last.
Some of the articles came from educators criticizing Lockhart's poor teaching and expressing doubts about his competence. Others claimed that he was undeserving of his fame—that he wasn't nearly as brilliant as his books claimed—and even demanded that his Order of Merlin medal be revoked.
There were also those who outright accused him of being a complete fraud, asserting that the "real experiences" in his books were nothing but fabrications of his imagination, and calling on the Ministry of Magic to investigate.
These doubts and accusations had followed Lockhart ever since his rise to fame, never fully disappearing—but in 1993, they suddenly exploded to their peak. Although the Order of Merlin didn't revoke his medal and the Ministry hadn't issued any official statement, the relentless skepticism still drove Lockhart into deep anxiety—he had even lost handfuls of his once-perfect hair.
Of course, tastes vary—some people criticized him, while others defended him. Soon, the debates about Lockhart turned into a full-blown public brawl across newspapers and magazines.
Watching the chaos unfold, Eda found the whole spectacle oddly familiar—and rather entertaining. She even felt she could help Lockhart's loyal fans come up with better defenses.
For instance: "Do you know how hard Gilderoy works? Even with a broken hand, he kept writing his books!"
Or: "Do you know how dedicated Gilderoy is? He attended a fan meeting with a fever of 100 degrees!"
As long as Lockhart's fans were willing to spend money, Eda could easily come up with enough "damage control" statements to bankrupt them all.
Even without Eda's strategic input, Lockhart's fans still fought valiantly. They charged forward on every front, passionately defending him and successfully managing to salvage his crumbling public image.
Just when they were ready to celebrate their victory with drums and fireworks, two reports published in the Daily Prophet completely crushed their efforts—forcing them into a chaotic retreat.
The first article came from a very old journalist, one who had once reported on the legendary duel between Dumbledore and Grindelwald.
This highly respected veteran reporter wrote that Lockhart constantly claimed his books were based on his personal experiences, but the old man wasn't so sure. Some of Lockhart's supposed adventures were strikingly similar—even identical—to those of one of the reporter's friends. At first, he thought it might just be a coincidence. But then that same friend mysteriously lost all memory of those experiences—right before Lockhart's new book was published.
Was that still just coincidence?
These words drew serious attention from readers everywhere. Yet, instead of waking up, Lockhart's fans went on the offensive—they launched vicious personal attacks against the elderly reporter, nearly sending the poor man to St. Mungo's.
Perhaps it truly takes one villain to expose another, because soon after, a second article appeared in the Daily Prophet—this one written by none other than Rita Skeeter, the notorious columnist.
In her report, Rita Skeeter exposed Lockhart's frauds and deceit, fully supporting the claims made by her senior colleague.
She even went a step further, suggesting that Dumbledore had hired Lockhart intentionally—not because of his skills, but to reveal his incompetence and deceit to the entire wizarding world, to finally show everyone the truth.
A single stone stirred up a thousand waves, and people began recalling the old reporter's article once more. Coupled with Rita Skeeter's vivid writing—so detailed it felt as though she had witnessed and heard everything herself—the impact was explosive.
This time, even many of Lockhart's most devoted fans turned against him. They began to denounce him publicly, burning anything related to him—his books, his posters, even his autograph cards.
The saying "when the wall collapses, everyone pushes" had never been truer; Lockhart was being pummeled by public opinion from all sides.
Now, everyone was waiting for either the Ministry of Magic or Lockhart himself to step forward and finally tear away the mask of deceit.
Overnight, Gilderoy Lockhart fell from "distinguished wizard" to "a beaten dog."
Yet, despite how hopeless the situation seemed, he still refused to admit defeat. He believed that as long as he could endure this storm, he would once again be the same Gilderoy Lockhart as before....!!!
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