Moaning Myrtle

"Myrtle, it wasn't what you thought."

Nelson backed toward the door and leaned against it, reaching behind himself to turn the handle, only to find that it would not open.

The sun shone brightly outside the window. There were hardly any owls left in the room; the few remaining ones stood sleeping on their perches. He remembered the night he had come here last time.

"Nelson Wiltening Williams," Myrtle said slowly. She did not look directly at Nelson, merely murmuring his name softly, her expression dazed, as though she were dreaming.

"Listen to me—" He raised his hands slightly beside his shoulders to show that he meant no harm.

"Nelson Wiltening," Myrtle cut him off as though she had not heard him, continuing to repeat his name softly in that dreamlike tone. Her voice echoed through the empty Owlery, strangely ethereal.

Nelson helplessly lowered his hands to his sides and waited to see what Myrtle intended to do. Ever since the day before term began, when he had nearly stepped on her at Flourish and Blotts, she seemed to have been traumatized by him and filled with fear toward him. He had always wanted to ask what prejudice Myrtle had against him, but she never seemed willing to give him a chance to communicate.

"I know you. I know what this is about—" Myrtle turned her head toward Nelson. She had large brown eyes that should have been beautiful and captivating against her fair face, but magnified through the enormous glasses that covered half her face, they became difficult to look at directly. They reminded Nelson of Ollivander's magical silver-white eyes.

"You've always thought I was afraid of you?" Myrtle asked.

Nelson said nothing, merely standing where he was. The atmosphere left him utterly confused; he had no idea what Myrtle was up to.

Seeing that he remained silent, Myrtle slowly spoke again, her dreamy manner even stronger. "Actually, I was afraid of you, but it was far from dread."

"Fear and dread are different—dread makes me stay away, while fear makes me resist getting close. I dread Dark Magic, dread death, dread anything that can take away everything I have... But I fear the unknown, so at first, I was afraid of you."

"Then you should be afraid of everything," Nelson could not help saying.

"No, it's different." Myrtle slowly shook her head. "Those were just strangers. You, Nelson, are different. You're a very discordant person, unlike every stranger I've ever met."

"Discordant?" Nelson asked with a frown. He wondered whether Myrtle had seen him walking out of step at some point, and whether she happened to suffer from severe obsessive-compulsive disorder...

"Not like that..." She seemed to see what Nelson was thinking. "A person's harmony doesn't show on the surface. I can see many things that others cannot, almost like magic... like Divination, for example... um—"

She seemed unable to think of an appropriate description for the moment.

"Right! Colors!" She slapped her forehead and jumped down from the table. "Colors... For example, Professor Dumbledore's color is red, Professor Sakes's color is blue, and your friend Tom Riddle is a vast stretch of black mixed with red. But your color... is discordant."

She walked toward Nelson and repeated, "Your color is discordant... I suppose you might not even know what color you are yourself."

Watching Myrtle approach, Nelson found her strange, mystical talk rather creepy and could not help trying to step back. The door handle jabbed into his waist.

"Hiss—"

"I had never seen such a discordant color, so at first I was very afraid of you. Later, Professor Sakes told us never to dread the unknown, or it would remain unknown forever... and the dread would remain as well." She stopped in front of Nelson, suddenly smiled brightly, and extended her right hand. "I think acting all mysterious like this is fun. Look, you're starting to be afraid of me already, Nelson."

"..." Nelson looked at Myrtle uncertainly. The girl before him was vastly different from the Myrtle in his memory. He reached behind himself again with his left hand, feeling for the door handle, while his right hand quietly crept toward the Wand in his pocket.

"I've already forgiven you for stepping on me."

Myrtle grabbed his right wrist, raised it, and shook it with her own right hand.

"Nelson, do you know what Myrtle means in the language of flowers?" As they walked side by side down the corridor, Myrtle suddenly quickened her pace, stepped in front of Nelson, turned to face him, and began walking backward with her hands behind her back.

"Myrtle?" Nelson was a little confused. Though he found her rather likable, he still thought it was absurd for someone to compare herself to a delicate flower during their first conversation.

"I mean moaning myrtle. My name is also the name of a flower," Myrtle explained.

"What is it? Purple flowers on a shrub, giving off a fragrant scent?"

Nelson suddenly stopped. Myrtle turned around and looked behind her, saw nothing, then turned back.

He remembered a ghost who, decades later, would float in a lavatory and cry all year long, longing for someone to share a toilet with her in her loneliness... He tried his utmost to hide the pity that he could barely suppress.

"No, it means strange and mysterious." Seeing that he knew nothing, Myrtle explained, "You saw how strange I acted today, and you got scared."

"Uh..."

"But I think my life is too simple, too monotonous. I'm just an ordinary person—nothing mysterious at all." As Myrtle spoke, they arrived at the entrance to the Ravenclaw Common Room. Her tone became somewhat aggrieved. "So I think perhaps it's because I'm too ordinary that nobody really likes me."

"That's not true..."

Myrtle suddenly stuck out her tongue at him, ran toward Ravenclaw's bronze door knocker, quietly answered the question, "What do zero and one have in common?" and slipped into the Common Room.

"Nelson, what are you trying to do to my student again?" A familiar voice and familiar words came from behind him. He realized he had wandered to Professor Sakes's door.

"Professor Sakes." Nelson immediately stood at attention. "I really didn't do anything."

"Mm." Professor Sakes walked away from him.

Watching Professor Sakes leave, Nelson leaned against the stair railing, spinning his Wand in his left hand while his right thumb gently traced the words he had written on his left hand at noon. He gazed toward the Ravenclaw Common Room.

Myrtle said her eyes possessed the magic of a seer. Was he any different? The plot he knew was far clearer than the obscure hints of prophecies. Most people's fates had long been woven into scripts by a children's author in a fairy tale—just like that spirited, big-eyed girl, who had been assigned the most unremarkable yet most tragic fate in a tale of revenge...

"I will change them. My life is a gift from fate, but it can also shatter the cage of the giver... Since I came here, there should be something different..."

He lowered his head and rubbed his dry eyes.

"Nelson, do you like one of our Ravenclaw girls?"

Nelson turned around. It was Ravenclaw's Dwight.

Why is it always you? He grumbled inwardly, then could only turn back and explain, "No, Dwight, I just—"

"You're a good person. Don't worry, you'll be happy!" He rushed toward the door knocker, then called back, "Nelson! Do you know what zero and one have in common?"

"I don't know!" Nelson shouted without looking back. This guy was actually rather warmhearted. "Aren't Ravenclaws supposed to be the wisest?"

"Asking someone wiser for help is also a kind of wisdom!"

Nelson found the boy's arguing a little annoying, yet oddly enjoyed the flattery. He turned, shrugged at Dwight, and descended the stairs with a clatter.

"Nelson, you're welcome."

During Herbology that afternoon, Alphard squeezed the pus from a Gordigan bulb onto Nelson's collar, his face full of the smug delight of a successful prank.

"Alphard, doing something like this—" Nelson shifted his backside farther away from Alphard and slowly put on his Dragon-hide gloves.

"How did it go? What happened in the end?" Alphard urged from beside him. He was so excited that he crouched down, interrupting Nelson. Nelson noticed that Tom, seated nearby and peeling clumps of dirt off a Gordigan, had also pricked up his ears.

"Alphard, when you did something like this, did you not consider that I might run into Professor Sakes?" Nelson caught Tom off guard and squirted pus all over his face.

"So what?" Alphard did not care in the slightest and began spraying Gordigan pus everywhere again.

"Playing with magical plants. Five points from Slytherin."

Before Alphard's face could fall, he heard Nelson say faintly.

"Mrs. Sakes told me to have you copy Chapter Three of the Charms textbook once as punishment for copying homework... She hopes to see your copywork when she sees you tonight."

Alphard's face completely fell. One of his crouching legs seemed to go numb, and he dropped onto the floor. Carried by momentum, he fell into a pile of roots and stems his classmates had peeled, covering himself in slime. Seeing his ridiculous appearance and miserable, defeated expression, Tom, who had been peeling dirt beside him, finally could not hold back his laughter. Unable to control the strength in his hands, he sprayed another stream of pus onto Alphard's face.

"Playing with magical plants again. Ten points from Slytherin."

"Ha ha ha ha!" Tom tossed the Gordigan in his hand back to the ground and laughed loudly, paying no heed to his image.

The surrounding students heard the commotion and looked over, not knowing what had happened. When they saw Alphard lying on the ground in utter despair, they burst into laughter. The greenhouse filled with joy.

"Making noise in class. Ten points each from Slytherin and Hufflepuff." The Hufflepuff Head of House's voice was drowned out by laughter.

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