Bedknobs and Broomsticks [HP fanfic; BNB Book 1]

Potions Pregame

If anything, the Lestranges walking out of Defense Against the Dark Arts had only strengthened Geoff's resolve to discover the truth. When Joel had given him the promised ingredients for his Polyjuice Potion the morning he returned to Hogwarts, he had advised him to use the second floor girls' lavatory if he wanted to avoid anyone knowing of his plan. He had said that it was the place where he had perfected his skill in brewing love potions, forgetfulness potions, and exploding fluids -- the first of which he attributed his marriage to Claire to, and said the second two were useful in warding off the jealous suitors of his various girlfriends throughout the years -- and guaranteed that he would not be disturbed, but did not elaborate further. He had also told Geoffrey to say hello to Moaning Myrtle for him.

Glancing quickly left and right to ensure no one was in the corridor, Geoff darted into the bathroom and shut the door behind him as quickly as he could. There was a splash from one of the stalls, and the bottom of his stomach dropped as a sudden wave of panic washed over him -- someone was in the bathroom, and he would have to explain why he was there.

His panic evaporated almost instantly, however, as the translucent form of Moaning Myrtle drifted through one of the stall doors, her eyebrows raised.

"What are you doing in here?" she asked. "You shouldn't be in here. You're a boy."

He opened and closed his mouth several times as he tried to find words. Finally, he gave her an uneasy smile and, with a tone that he hoped sounded suave, said, "You must be Myrtle."

This, evidently, was not the correct thing to say, as she narrowed her eyes and frowned at him. "Oh, acting like you don't know about Myrtle? Poor, lonely, moping, Moaning Myrtle? You haven't come to throw something at me, have you?"

"Of course not -- why would I throw something at you?"

She gave a sniff and began to drift away.

Geoffrey shook his head and selected an empty patch of floor near the sinks where he settled himself, drawing a collapsible cauldron from the pocket of his robes and expanding it to its full size. "Joel sends his regards, by the way," he called after her.

She reappeared from one of the stalls and looked at him suspiciously as he began pulling his ingredients from his bag and laying them out on the floor. "Joel who?"

"Joel Morrison."

"Oh, him." Myrtle giggled girlishly to herself and drifted closer. "I remember him. He used to come in here all the time and make potions. He was very good at it, you know."

"Yeah, he's a professional potioneer now."

She giggled again. "Still making love potions?"

Geoffrey paused in thought for a moment after lighting a small fire under the cauldron. "That would explain why Claire's stayed married to him all these years."

"Claire? Claire Werley?" Myrtle's giggling had stopped abruptly. Glancing up, he saw that her lips were pursed and she was looking rather cross. "That girl was almost as bad as that Olive Hornby -- always making fun of me and accusing me of spying on Joel while he was in the bath. Thought she owned him, she did. Sometimes they'd come in here, you know, between classes for a knee-trembler. Didn't seem to care that poor Moaning Myrtle had to listen to them going at it."

"Couldn't you have just... gone into another bathroom or something?"

"Why should I? I was here first -- they should have been the ones to go somewhere else." She gave a sorrowful moan and drifted away back to the stalls. Geoffrey heard a splash and some pitiful, watery sobbing, but chose to ignore it as best he could as he began counting lacewing flies and dropping them into the cauldron.