Myrtle glided around her usual second floor bathroom, sighing miserably and staring at the ceiling. She was quite aware that Harry Potter was back in the school, but she knew she’d never find him in all the commotion. There was a… did she dare call it war? Myrtle didn’t think there was anything nearly as bad as causing someone’s death by telling them her glasses were horrid-looking. There was a… a fight. A struggle, she decided.



Yes, Harry was back and he had gotten all of Hogwarts to gang up against the Dark Lord. She couldn’t visit him. She was too frightened to even visit the hallway. So here she was, flailing and moaning around her bathroom, depressed once again as she was her entire life. Well… except the day she got her new glasses. But Myrtle tried not to think of that day; it made her even more depressed.



Everything made her depressed nowadays. She hadn’t seen Harry for… a year? It was dreadful. She hadn’t even seen any hot prefects lately. It was outrageously terrible. Well, okay, Draco Malfoy was pretty cute… but he was awfully emotional like her, and awfully emotional people usually aren’t a good match. Besides, he disappeared like the rest of them. It was so boring anymore. Myrtle was almost upset that something life-changing hadn’t happened, like a hardback one-eighth of Tom Marvolo Riddle’s soul falling through her head. In fact, Throw-The-Book-Through-Myrtle didn’t sound too bad right now.



So how did she know Harry and his friends were back at Hogwarts for the time being? She could hear them yelling and talking in the halls outside her bathroom, and trust Myrtle, she knew his voice. She wanted to talk to him desperately as she hadn’t even seen him since the incident with that Malfoy kid. The blonde one. The one who she had come so close to befriending (at least from her point of view) and then he slipped away because of Harry. Actually, she just wanted him to apologize. Okay, and maybe ask her out. After all, translucent dates are much better than those solid brats. They’re classier, too.



At a particular point of contemplation of interpretation of how Harry had acted toward her last and musing over countless ways she could pluck up the courage to go out there and find him and ask him to step aside for a minute, the bathroom door opened. Myrtle gasped and swept over to the direction of the entrance to the bathroom holding the opening to the Chamber of Secrets. No one came in here anymore, ever. Not since it was marked as such an opening…



Before she could see who it was, Myrtle heard a bloke’s voice and her heart automatically fluttered. . . . Well, it would if it was beating. It was quite similar to Harry’s…. but it couldn’t be… It just couldn’t. Of all times and of all people, now and he weren’t the subjects.



“– and I’ll just repeat what he said… or did, more like –�




“– Ron, this has been the best idea you’ve ever had, I swear –�



Myrtle’s ‘heart’ fell. It wasn’t Harry at all. It was his best mate Ron and Ron’s snobby girlfriend Hermione Granger, who took pleasure in making fun of Myrtle. Myrtle hated Granger’s guts; how dare she have the nerve to come back to this place!



“You!� Myrtle huffed, crossing her arms and gliding forward to meet Ron and the Granger girl head-on.



“Er, yes, Myrtle… We’re here for some important business,� the Granger girl tried explaining, wincing at Myrtle and trying not to make it obvious.



“Oh, please. You can’t get anything past me. You were just talking about me before you knew I was in here!� Myrtle exclaimed, glaring at the pair.



“We bloody well knew you were in here,� Ron confirmed.



Myrtle sobbed dramatically and departed from the pair so quickly it looked like she had Disapparated. She opened her ghostly mouth a few times, appearing to want to say something, but kept shutting it and eventually cried herself to the other side of the bathroom and watched the pair from afar, wailing as she did.



“Oh, Ron…� Hermione sighed, shaking her head.



“What?� Ron asked in an accusative tone. Myrtle wailed louder. Boys didn’t understand anything.



“So…� Hermione breathed, taking a shaky glance at Myrtle and then back at Ron. “Say it.�



“What?�



“Say it! Parseltongue! Or have you already forgotten?� Hermione asked exasperatedly. “Ron, we have realistically under ten minutes.�



“Oh!� Ron exclaimed as if he had forgotten everything they were set out to do. “Right.� He stepped forward in front of the entrance and stared up and down its height as if it was the most complex and menacing object in the world. He took a deep breath and took a closer step to the taps.



“I think it was this one…� Ron muttered to himself, leaning over and rubbing the tap with the snake while trying to ignore Myrtle’s wails.



“Ron, hurry – �



Ron jumped back to focus and stepped back, staring up at the top of the Chamber.


“What are you doing?� Myrtle’s inquisitive and accusative voice came harshly from the corner of the bathroom. “That’s blocked off.�



“It’s not,� Ron replied shortly.



Myrtle huffed again and as it was Ron that replied she chose not to waste her time arguing. Deciding she couldn’t care less, she drifted herself into a U-Bend and hid there, waiting for the pair to leave.



“What did Harry say?� Hermione pressed anxiously. Myrtle smiled to herself at the name.



Ron flushed and in best imitation of Harry’s Parseltongue he began spitting out words comparable to hissing noises. To him it didn’t sound very much real, but before he knew it the Chamber was opening before his and the Granger girl’s eyes…



-88888-



It had been years and years since Harry Potter had left Hogwarts for good, and Myrtle was again drifting miserably away in a bathroom . . . but this time it was a Prefects’ bathroom. And not just any Prefects’ bathroom, but the Prefects’ bathroom on the fifth floor. The one where she had witnessed the ultimate of hotness, Cedric Diggory and of course, Harry Potter. In some of the other boys’ bathrooms she’d been floating through she’d heard some mention of this bathroom being in use tonight. Once you heard that, how could you resist some juicy new Prefects?



Myrtle had found delighting-looking males in the last decade or so, of course, but they hadn’t been nearly as exciting as Harry. Oh no, Harry had always been the height of excitement and wonder. Harry… her Harry. Well no, not hers, but…



The saddened female ghost hid herself behind the door of the farthest stall from the door, waiting for whoever it was to enter. She sighed to herself, thinking of the possibilities. Who could save her from the misery of not having enough lovely boys to look at?



Suddenly and just as she was expecting it to, the Prefects’ bathroom door creaked open rather quickly and closed just as quickly. Whoever the entrant was stepped forward and set their bag down with a thud. Myrtle could clearly guess what they were doing, which was staring around at the bathroom’s size and grandeur. That’s what everyone did. No surprise.



She wanted desperately to see who it was, but she had to wait till he was actually in the bath… Otherwise it would be quite pointless.



“Merlin’s pants. Hugo was right; this place is huge… Wow…� the voice remarked. Myrtle smirked, shaking her head. What kind of name was Hugo? These names were getting weirder as they years went on. Myrtle could only assume he was getting undressed, for her ghostly state did not permit her to see through stall doors. The voice sounded familiar but she couldn’t put a name to it. From the sound of it, he certainly was not a Prefect.



Sure enough, Myrtle soon heard the water streaming down into the massive tub and bubbles followed after. Darn… Bubbles always ruined everything for Myrtle.



After a few moments of silence, Myrtle decided to peek up and over the stall door to spy on this boy, whoever he was. At first glance she couldn’t believe her eyes. It couldn’t be… That was over nineteen years ago… But they looked so alike…



Wait a second. He didn’t have glasses… but his eyes… were they? They were. Brilliant green, and his shaggy hair an onyx shade of deepest ebony. Oh, how much he looked like lovely Harry…



No, he wasn’t fifteen. He looked about, maybe, in his third year or so. Whoever ‘Hugo’ was must’ve given him the password to this place. But boy, was he attractive… Myrtle could sit here and stare at him all day and he wouldn’t notice.



Or maybe not.



“Hey!� the boy suddenly exclaimed. Darn; he was as curious and inquisitive as Harry had been. He could only be his son…



Myrtle jumped in midair, startled from what seemed a daydream. She raised her eyebrows and drifted out over the stall, advancing on the boy in the tub.



“It’s you!� he shouted out again, glaring at the ghost in an accusatory way.



“Me?� Myrtle giggled, ignoring his tone. “Well, yes.� She seated herself on the edge of the tub, still grinning, but then began to frown as the boy scooted farther and farther away from her. “And you are?�



“You know who I am,� the black-haired boy glared at her, examining her ghostly figure.



“No,� Myrtle insisted. “Who are you?�



“You were spying on me the other day in the bathroom. I could’ve sworn I saw a ghost with round glasses!� the boy persisted.



“You must be mistaken,� Myrtle chuckled.



“I’m not; that’s how you know I’m here,� the boy growled. “Go away, you sick, perverted ghost.�



“Oh no, I think I’ll stay for a while,� Myrtle smiled annoyingly, drifting back upward to view the boy from afar.



“Ugh. I’m getting out,� the boy said disgustedly.



“Oh, good,� Myrtle giggled. “A better view.�



The boy, looking repulsive, stopped his movement and sank back down into the tub. “Look, will you just leave me alone.�



“Maybe.�



“What’ll that take, then?�



“An answer,� Myrtle grinned.



“To what?�



Myrtle paused, frowning at how quick the boy must really want her to leave. She then thought of something she hoped to be a creative question. “Well…� she put her forefinger to her chin in mock thought. “Answer me this: Are you, by any chance, related to Harry Potter?�



The boy looked taken aback. “How do you know my father?� he questioned accusatively.



Myrtle smiled. “I knew it! We were friends way back.�



“I’m sure you were,� the boy nodded sarcastically.



“So… what’s your name?�



“Will you leave me alone if I tell you?� he asked exasperatedly.



“Maybe,� Myrtle giggled. “Depends.�



“Ugh,� the boy shook his head. “It’s James.�



“Ooh… James Potter... I can tell we’ll be good friends.� Myrtle grinned and advanced again on young James in the immense tub.