Unworthy

Second Year - 11

"Hmm..." Erica looks over the letter Hermione had slid her right before breakfast this morning as they passed by one another. There's some connections here and there, attached to a narrowed down list of monsters. Right after breakfast, she had rushed to pick up another book from the library that Hermione suggested, and sees that a lot of the connections are backed up by further facts and incidents regarding other creatures in her own reading.

They're close. The answer is right at their fingertips.

"Oh, look who's here, Crabbe!"

Erica sighs, frowning, and shoving her notes and the book in her bag. She had been expecting the common room to be empty, what with the Quidditch match today. "Shouldn't you both be at the pitch?"

"We're banned from the pitch for the remainder of the season, after trying to jinx the broom of the Ravenclaw's seeker last game." Goyle says. "Malfoy asked us to do it, as a favor. Unfortunately, the little halfbreed Flightwilk-"

"-Flitwick-" Erica corrects, lowly.

"-caught us and managed to convince Hooch and Snape to agree on a ban for the rest of the year."

"Yeah, so here we are." Crabbe sneers. "Not sure why you think you're entitled to knowing our whereabouts anyways. Especially with the way you've been tracking your dirty blood around, sneaking about as you've been doing."

"Yeah..." Goyle takes a few steps closer, making Erica stand up suddenly from her seat. "...what exactly have you been up to anyways?"

She doesn't offer them even a hint, nor does she give them a moment to react when she darts around them and out of the common room doorway. She's unsurprised to hear them running after her, but better outside than stuck inside. At least this way she has many escape routes to consider.

At some point, Peeves comes across pandemonium, summoned by Goyle's shouting and Crabbe's ongoing warcry. He grins, wanting part in this scene, and floats down, jumpscaring both of the boys and unintentionally allowing Erica some time to round the corner and slip into a nearby girls bathroom. She quickly, but gently closes the door behind her, hearing the scurrying feet of Crabbe and Goyle rushing by, thinking that they're still hot on her heels.

"Do they ever get tired of this nonsense?" Erica murmurs. "For goodness sake."

"You shouldn't be in here. At least not alone."

Erica jumps at the sudden voice. Now startled, she spins around faster than she can process, her hand hovering over her wand, but not yet drawn. It's a ghost - a child, perhaps maybe only slightly older than her - floating in the walkway between the sets of stalls. Her head is tilted slightly to the side in curiosity.

Erica exhales deeply, forcing herself to relax her posture. She's seen many ghosts already, what with them being very common in the wizarding world, but her very Muggle upbringing has programmed her to be incredibly wary of such entities. "Who... who are you?"

"Myrtle... Moaning Myrtle."

"And..." Erica squints. "...that's actually your name?"

"Well... it's what everyone calls me..."

"You mean... like your alias? Like Nearly Headless Nick?" Erica questions, still confused as to why ghosts bother with aliases. "If you don't mind... I'd like to know your full name. Your actual name, that is."

Now Myrtle is the one who seems confused. "Why do you wish to know that?"

"Well..." Erica shifts uncomfortably. "...I'm not going to call you that nickname. It seems like a title forced on ghosts by the living, picked based on your deaths. It's a very disingenuous way to address someone, if you ask me."

"Oh." Myrtle blinks. "You are very kind... different from the others I've met. Well, then... My name was Myrtle Warren."

"Nice to meet you, Myrtle." Erica greets. "I came in here to hide from a couple of bullies. Is this particular bathroom dangerous or something?"

"I was not referencing this space specifically. I've simply heard whispers from the other ghosts after Sir Nicholas was petrified." Myrtle says. "Something about a monster that's been petrifying muggleborns. Interesting to see that the treatment of my kind hasn't changed."

"Your kind?" Erica asks. "You're a muggleborn?"

"Oh, yes!" Myrtle exclaims. "One of the brightest, the professors would say... only... I apparently wasn't pureblooded or pretty enough for my peers to accept me."

"Trust me, I know how that feels. I happen to be a muggleborn too, wrongfully sorted into Slytherin by that delusional hat." Erica says. "Um, how did you die if you don't mind me asking?"

Myrtle is somewhat taken aback by Erica's inquiry, but not upset. No one has ever asked her about her final moments, only demanding that she stops showing up at her bullies homes.

After visibly cooing in flattery, Myrtle begins telling Erica her death story. She starts with Olive, her bully, teasing her about her glasses, causing her to run away sobbing, which put her in the wrong place at the wrong time to begin with... this exact bathroom. Erica shudders, feeling incredibly uneasy as the story abruptly concludes.

From this story she can conclude that:

A) Myrtle died before she even knew she did. It was too instant.

B) Other than seeing a pair of yellow eyes, she still, to this day, has no idea who or what killed her.

C) There was an unknown boy involved who was also in close proximity to this thing, who also strangely remained unharmed.

and D) Mrytle was muggleborn. Just like Collin, and Justin. She was attacked by something, just like them, but died instead of ending up petrified.

"...Myrtle..." Erica questions, after going over all of the bullet points she's mentally written. "What is the possibility that the thing with the eyes that killed you is what's attacking students now?"

"It's possible." Myrtle shrugs. "But none of the students have died, have they?"

"Yes..." Erica nods, with a sigh. "You're right about that... it's the only difference."

As the two ponder this in silence, they are interrupted when the bell rings, indicating the end of the current break period.

"Thank you so much for talking to me, Myrtle. I really appreciate it." Erica says as she turns away. "I'll see you around."

"I'm the one who should be thankful, no one talks to me much." Myrtle says, beginning to float away back to the toilet stall. "You can come visit me anytime."

As Erica hurriedly walks to the library, she takes out a quill and scribbles hurriedly onto one of her notes: Yellow eyes. Possibly can petrify, but can also kill? She recognizes that it's a bit early before her meeting with Hermione, but she's too eager to check these facts out, and give Hermione what she knows.

As she nears the library, something in the distance of the hall makes Erica stop dead. It appears to simply be a lump of clothes and other stuff on the floor at first glance, but...

Her eyes travel from the books strewn on the floor to the mirror attached to a stiff hand. She swallows nervously, as she scans upwards, her gaze settling on the familiar frozen face of the victim.

She screams.