"Wahhh!"
A muffled sobbing echoed through the space.
Under Bloody Baron's guidance, Alice had dodged the professors and Filch's patrols, sneaking her way to the Crying Bathroom in the dead of night.
"..."
She paused, silent for a moment. For some reason, she felt like she'd just unlocked a new title.
Life Coach of the Ladies' Room.
Whether it was Hermione Granger or Pansy Parkinson, Alice had a knack for helping them pull themselves together in a bathroom. And now, her clientele had expanded to include ghosts.
The difference this time? It wasn't the fourth-floor bathroom. This was the second floor, in a nearly abandoned girls' restroom.
It was the gloomiest bathroom Alice had ever seen. Shattered mirrors hung above cracked stone sinks, the floor was slick with dampness, and the whole place reeked of mildew. A few candles with flickering yellow flames cast a dim, wavering light that reflected off the wet tiles.
Panting slightly, Alice slipped into the restroom, glancing around nervously before easing the door shut, like she was afraid of alerting someone outside.
Once inside, she thought back to how Hermione and Pansy had cried in bathrooms. Mimicking their distress, she buried her face in her knees and let out soft, fake sobs.
A translucent, silvery ghost—Moaning Myrtle, no doubt—had been crying nonstop. But Alice's sudden arrival caught her off guard. Myrtle stopped sobbing and stared at the unexpected visitor.
Alice caught the change in Myrtle's demeanor out of the corner of her eye but kept up the act, sniffling dramatically.
Myrtle's face twisted in confusion. Finally, she couldn't hold back. "Hey, you! It's the middle of the night—why're you crying in my bathroom?"
Alice let out a choked, indignant sob. "This isn't your private hideout, you know. If you can cry here, why can't I?"
"...Uh!" Myrtle opened her mouth, then closed it, stumped. She couldn't exactly argue with that. She didn't own the bathroom.
"Okay, fine. So why are you crying?" Myrtle asked.
Alice's lips curled into a tiny smirk, hidden against her knees. Gotcha, she thought.
Still sniffling, she said, "I don't get it. Why… why does everyone pick on me? What did I even do wrong?"
"Huh?"
Something about Alice's words struck a chord with Myrtle, reminding her of her own life. She floated over and sat beside Alice, awkwardly patting her shoulder. "What happened to you? Tell me about it. Maybe I can help, you know?"
Alice looked up at Myrtle. "Are you Moaning Myrtle?"
Myrtle nodded.
"I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone, okay?" Alice said.
Myrtle gave a small smile. "Of course. I don't exactly have friends at Hogwarts to gossip with."
Alice nodded slowly, then began to weave the story she and Bloody Baron had cooked up. "My parents are Muggles, but when I got to Hogwarts, I was sorted into Slytherin."
"A lot of Slytherins don't like me. They bully me, call me names, say I don't fit in."
"They want me to admit I'm a Mudblood and bow down to them."
"When I fight back, they just mess with me even more."
Myrtle's eyes flashed with anger and a kind of shared pain. She looked at Alice and said, "You've gotta stand up for yourself. Those kinds of people? If you're tough, they back off. If you show weakness, they double down. You can't give up."
"I only figured that out after I died. That lesson cost me my life."
Alice put on a perfectly timed curious expression, and Myrtle took the bait, explaining, "Aren't you wondering why I'm a ghost at Hogwarts?"
"Back when I was alive, I was like you. Muggle parents, picked on by other students. The only difference is you're in Slytherin, and I was in Ravenclaw."
"It feels like forever ago. I wasn't Moaning Myrtle back then. I had a proper name—Myrtle Elizabeth Warren."
"I ran into this bathroom crying after a girl named Olive Hornby made fun of me. Then I heard a boy's voice and went to tell him this was the girls' bathroom."
"Guess what I saw when I stepped out?"
Alice shook her head. She'd never heard how Myrtle died.
Myrtle nodded, like she'd expected that. "I saw a giant basilisk. One look at its eyes, and I was dead."
"After I became a ghost, I kept haunting Hornby. That's when I realized—why was I ever scared of her? She wasn't anything special."
"I paid with my life to learn that you've gotta fight back against bullies, not just sit there feeling sorry for yourself."
Myrtle spoke with passion, but Alice gave her a skeptical look. "But you're still crying all the time. You don't exactly seem like the 'tough and fight back' type you're talking about."
"You're even letting Peeves bully you."
"Uh…"
Myrtle's fiery speech fizzled out. Her shoulders slumped, and her eyes started to well up. "That's because I'm already dead! What's the point of fighting back now?"
"If Peeves wants to mess with me, let him. It's not like his bullying can kill me again, and standing up to him isn't gonna bring me back to life."
"…"
Alice hadn't expected a ghost to leave her speechless.
Myrtle wasn't wrong. She'd learned her lesson too late. Dead or not, nothing could change what happened. Olive Hornby was out there living her life, while Myrtle was stuck as a ghost.
"I heard from Bloody Baron that you've been crying even more than usual lately. Why's that?" Alice asked, finally getting to the task Bloody Baron had entrusted her with.
Myrtle gave Alice a suspicious glance but still saw her as a kindred spirit, so she answered, "I… I just want to leave Hogwarts and see the world, but I can't. It makes me sad."
Alice tilted her head, puzzled. "You can't leave Hogwarts? Why not? Do ghosts have some kind of restriction?"
Myrtle gave an embarrassed little laugh before explaining, "After I became a ghost, I kept haunting Hornby. Eventually, she got the Ministry of Magic involved. They restricted my freedom and threatened to banish me from Hogwarts if I kept bothering her."
Alice thought for a moment, then asked, "Do you still hate Hornby?"
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