Moaning Myrtle

The Girls' Bathroom located in the middle of the corridor on the Second Floor of the Castle.

Normally, people at Hogwarts wouldn't describe this washroom as "the Girls' Bathroom in the middle of the Second Floor corridor," but rather as "Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom."

Meanwhile, Loren was dealing with the short, plump ghost girl, half of her body sticking out of the cubicle door while the other half remained inside.

Straight, long hair covered her cheeks, and large, pearl-colored glasses obscured her upper face. A melancholic and gloomy air emanated from her mouth and nose, making it hard to imagine what she would look like smiling.

"I'm really not a pervert. I came here to wait for someone, and this restroom has been abandoned, okay?" Loren explained, spreading his hands.

He had arranged to meet Dumbledore here that evening, and he arrived at the bathroom a little early, only to be entangled by Moaning Myrtle.

"You're right. Who would want to see me living here?" Moaning Myrtle suddenly became depressed and started sobbing. "Even when I was alive, no one cared about me."

Why is she crying now...? Loren looked at her helplessly. He had heard that Moaning Myrtle was difficult to deal with, but he didn't expect her to be this difficult.

As Moaning Myrtle's crying began, the toilet seemed to have been switched on, and the sound of water rushing through the flushing chamber rang out. However, the water did not flow down the drain; instead, it overflowed from the toilet bowl.

A shallow pool of water flowed out from under the wooden door of the cubicle and gradually spread across the entire bathroom floor.

The loud sobbing and the overflowing water from the toilet made Loren frown. He walked towards Moaning Myrtle on the clean, dry floor and pushed open the wooden door of the cubicle.

Moss had grown in the crevices of the old-fashioned toilet, and water kept flowing out of the tank and overflowing onto the floor.

Moaning Myrtle shrank into the corner, her eyes wide, wanting to scream at Loren.

"I heard you often spend time in the toilet?" Loren interrupted her. Although he didn't know what the habitability requirements were for ghosts, this toilet certainly didn't meet them.

For some reason, Moaning Myrtle felt cared for. Unlike the other young wizards, she didn't wallow in self-pity and throw a tantrum at Loren. Instead, she replied in a choked, tearful voice, "Yes, Moaning Myrtle lives here. Moaning Myrtle has nowhere to go. Ghosts and wizards all despise her, so she has to hide herself in the toilet."

Loren's temples twitched a few times. "Why didn't you call someone to fix it?"

Moaning Myrtle felt even more aggrieved. "This washroom was originally abandoned. Some little Witch even said that I threw a tantrum and splashed water everywhere, so this place became my territory. Filch told me to clean it up myself."

This washroom hasn't been used for decades, so it's impossible for debris to clog the pipes. Loren guessed that there was probably a section of air coming up from the sewer and getting stuck in the bend in the pipe, preventing it from escaping and thus blocking the drain.

He waved his wand, using Transfiguration to manipulate the water and air, working together to expel the air stuck in the bend in the pipe. Soon, the sound of air being expelled came from the pipe, and the overflowing water flowed smoothly into the sewer.

The water tank only had one loose latch inside, which was solved with Transfiguration. While they were at it, they even used magic to pull out the moss and flush it away.

"Alright, the water won't overflow anymore." Loren put away his wand and walked outside. Although his hands were clean, he wouldn't feel at ease unless he washed them properly.

Moaning Myrtle's eyes, hidden behind her thick glasses, lit up with delight. Her ghostly body darted merrily between the tank and the toilet, shrieking, "It's fixed! It's fixed! It won't be wet here anymore!"

After making a fuss for a while, she heard the sound of water being turned on to wash hands outside, and floated unsteadily to Loren's side, saying gratefully, "What's your name?"

"Loren, Loren Morgan." Loren shook the water droplets off his hands, looked at Moaning Myrtle seemed much better now, and felt a mix of emotions.

Ghosts are mostly like this: after their bodies die, their souls cannot find peace and transform into ghosts that are neither truly dead nor alive. They cannot feel hot or cold, cannot touch solid objects, and cannot taste food. Their ultimate pleasure is smelling moldy, worm-infested cheese. Many ghosts are driven insane by the torment of their false bodies over long periods of time.

The ghost Loren encountered most often was Professor Binns, whose lessons on the A History of Magic were nothing more than repetitions of his actions in life. He couldn't recall most of his students' names, couldn't recount recent major events, and his annual final exams always contained identical questions from previous years' papers.

Nearly Headless Nick, Grey Lady, Bloody Baron, and the Moaning Myrtle are mostly normal, but when they are not, they are completely neurotic.

"Loren Morgan, Loren Morgan! I will remember you!" Moaning Myrtle repeated with delight, flitting about in the air like a joyful bird.

"Can you tell me about yourself?" Loren carefully chose his words, worried about touching on Moaning Myrtle's painful past. "I mean—about the cause of your death."

Moaning Myrtle wore a cheerful smile, showing no sadness whatsoever. On the contrary, she was pleased and even honored that someone had inquired about her death.

"Oh dear, that's a terrible thing," she said with relish. "I remember it very clearly, right here, in this very bathroom. Oliver Humbell was laughing at my glasses, saying I looked like a four-eyed dog..."

It's a simple, uneventful story. To be honest, it's not exciting at all. There are no twists or turns, no scares, and nothing worth singing about.

Moaning Myrtle's full name is Moaning Myrtle Warren, a Muggle-born Witch from Ravenclaw House. She is often ridiculed for her appearance due to her thick, unfashionable glasses and acne-covered face.

One day in 1943, Moaning Myrtle, who had been insulted, hid in this washroom to cry as usual. She was attacked and killed by a mysterious monster. Before she died, she only saw a pair of huge, frightening yellow eyes.

"Even when I was alive, no one cared about me. It took them a very, very long time to find my body..." Moaning Myrtle's voice rose and fell, trying to make the story more exciting.

But ultimately, there was no story worth writing about.

A girl who had little presence in life, only being dragged out and scolded when someone needed to vent their emotions, died without anyone noticing. Moaning Myrtle, now a ghost, sat in the bathroom processing the reality of her death.

Oliver Humbell walked into the washroom and said, 'Are you sulking here again, Moaning Myrtle?' ' Professor Dippet sent me to see you—' Just then she suddenly saw my corpse!

Moaning Myrtle suddenly became excited and proud, "Oh! She could never forget that scene her whole life, not even on her deathbed..."

Loren listened silently.

Moaning Myrtle, now a ghost, was unwilling to accept her fate. Unable to understand the cause of her death and unable to swallow her anger, she began to stalk Oliver Humboldt in her ghostly form. Oliver Humboldt soon sought help from the Ministry of Magic to restrain Moaning Myrtle's behavior.

Later, Moaning Myrtle stayed at Hogwarts. She usually stayed in the bathroom where she died, and occasionally she would be swept into the lake when she was not paying attention.

Later, the washroom was gradually abandoned and hardly anyone came.

As the story unfolds, memories buried deep within the soul are awakened, bringing with them a surge of emotions.

Moaning Myrtle murmured, "How can the Ministry of Magic take care of a dead person? How can they take care of a ghost?"

Why did no one care about me when I was alive?

Why is no one doing anything about Oliver Humbert?

"Why is no one doing anything about that monster in the restroom?"

Moaning Myrtle muttered to herself, ignoring Loren beside her, and instinctively drifted towards the stall, curling up in the toilet.

Loren opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything. Yes, why? Why was fate so cruel to a young girl?

Such a short life, life did not give her any courtesy or preferential treatment.