“What are you whispering?’ said Myrtle, staring at him. ‘Nothing,’ said Harry quickly. ‘We wanted to ask –’
‘I wish people would stop talking behind my back!’ said Myrtle, in a voice choked with tears. ‘I do have feelings, you know, even if I am dead.’’
“You’ll be teased something dreadful,’ said Myrtle happily.
‘It’s OK, Hermione,’ said Harry quickly. ‘We’ll take you up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey never asks too many questions ...’
It took a long time to persuade Hermione to leave the bathroom. Moaning Myrtle sped them on their way with a hearty guffaw.
‘Wait till everyone finds out you’ve got a tail!’’
“But it can’t hurt you if someone throws something at you,’ said Harry, reasonably. ‘I mean, it’d just go right through you, wouldn’t it?’
He had said the wrong thing. Myrtle puffed herself up and shrieked, ‘Let’s all throw books at Myrtle, because she can’t feel it! Ten points if you can get it through her stomach! Fifty points if it goes through her head! Well, ha ha ha! What a lovely game, I don’t think!”
“To ask you how you died,’ said Harry.
Myrtle’s whole aspect changed at once. She looked as though she had never been asked such a flattering question.
‘Ooooh, it was dreadful,’ she said with relish. ‘It happened right in here. I died in this very cubicle. I remember it so well. I’d hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then –’ Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining, ‘I died.’
‘How?’ said Harry.
‘No idea,’ said Myrtle in hushed tones. ‘I just remember seeing a pair of great big yellow eyes…”
“Myrtle goggled at them. ‘You’re alive,’ she said blankly to Harry. ‘There’s no need to sound so disappointed,’ he said grimly, wiping flecks of blood and slime off his glasses. ‘Oh, well ... I’d just been thinking. If you had died, you’d have been welcome to share my toilet,’ said Myrtle, blushing silver.’
“Well, that’s what Diggory thought,’ she said. ‘He lay there talking to himself for ages about it. Ages and ages ... nearly all the bubbles had gone ...’
‘Underwater ...’ Harry said slowly. ‘Myrtle ... what lives in the lake, apart from the giant squid?’
‘Oh, all sorts,’ she said. ‘I sometimes go down there ... some- times don’t have any choice, if someone flushes my toilet when I’m not expecting it ...”
“‘How are you getting on?’
Harry thought he was having a heart attack. He whipped around, and saw Moaning Myrtle floating hazily in front of him, gazing at him through her thick pearly glasses.
‘Myrtle!’ Harry tried to shout – but, once again, nothing came out of his mouth but a very large bubble. Moaning Myrtle actually giggled. ‘You want to try over there!’ she said, pointing…”
‘Draco Malfoy was standing with his back to the door, his hands clutching either side of the sink, his white-blond head bowed.
‘Don’t,’ crooned Moaning Myrtle’s voice from one of the cubicles.
‘Don’t ... tell me what’s wrong ... I can help you ...’
‘No one can help me,’ said Malfoy. His whole body was shaking.
‘I can’t do it ... I can’t ... it won’t work ... and unless I do it soon ... he says he’ll kill me ...’”
‘Harry did not know what he was saying; he fell to his knees beside Malfoy, who was shaking uncontrollably in a pool of his own blood. Moaning Myrtle let out a deafening scream. ‘MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!”
‘The news had travelled very fast: apparently Moaning Myrtle had taken it upon herself to pop up in every bathroom in the castle to tell the story…’