Moaning Myrtle and the Yellow Eyes (I)

"Why me?!" Ron's voice rose half an octave. "You go! You're a girl too!"

"I'm a witch. Besides... I need to watch the cauldron. If anything goes wrong again, I'm the only one who can handle it in time."

Ron opened his mouth to argue, but found Hermione's reasoning impossible to refute.

He looked at Harry, hoping Harry could save him.

Harry spread his hands, making an expression that said, "Don't look at me. I can't do anything either."

Ron took a deep breath. Like a condemned man walking to the gallows, he straightened his robes, pulled open the stall door, and stepped outside.

"Moaning Myrtle?" His voice echoed through the empty bathroom, carrying a deliberately restrained, carefully friendly tone. "Are... are you all right?"

A rustling sound came from the neighboring stall, followed by Myrtle's shrill, tearful voice. "Who? Who's out there?"

"It's Ron," Ron said. "Ron Weasley. I'm... um... here to use the toilet."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance inside the stall, then both covered their mouths, desperately holding back their laughter.

"Use the toilet?" Myrtle's voice suddenly turned sharp. "This is the girls' bathroom! You're a boy! You can't come in here! I'm telling a professor!"

"No, no, no!" Panic entered Ron's voice. "I'm not... I'm... I'm looking for something! Yes, looking for something! I lost a... a... something very important in... in this bathroom!"

Myrtle fell silent for a few seconds.

Then her voice rang out again, but this time her tone changed—from anger to curiosity, from curiosity to something strange and almost coquettish. "Did you come looking for me?"

A muffled gurgle escaped Ron's throat, as though something had gotten stuck in it.

"No... I didn't come specifically to find you... I mean... I..."

"No one ever comes to see me." Myrtle drifted out