#hogwarts ghost

Ok.  Let’s get some moaning myrtle attention over here?

Yes, she was annoying.  Probably one of the most in fact.  But...

The girl was killed at...how old?  12?  13?  14?  So of course she would be.  She never got to live out her life!  She never got to do anything she wanted!  She was bullied mercilessly, because why?  She cried a lot?  We all do people.  Everyone cries.  

So yes.  Sometimes she’s annoying.  Sometimes she’s a bit cruel.  Sometimes a bit...well downright weird. Cough goblet of fire cough.  But she has her reasons.  And one of them?  She takes a little while to warm up to you.  You have to treat her as an equal, a friend.  Guess what?  That’s what Draco did.  Draco was her ONLY real friend, as proved by the books.  And she defended him as best she could when Harry (dumbass, by the way—WHO USES A SPELL THAT SAYS “FOR ENEMIES” WITHOUT KNOWING WHAT IT DOES?) used sectumsempra on him.  It was little, because she was a ghost, but she tried.  She was a better friend to Draco than Crabbe and Goyle.  

Yes.  Myrtle’s annoying.  But she has reasons.  And she’s lonely.  If anyone tried, like Draco did, she’d be a much better person.  Put yourself in her shoes and ask,

Rowena: Language!

Helena:...

Helena: Whom the fuck

The Forgotten | Prologue, Part 1

Word count: 604

Warnings: None

“Don’t you see georgie?” Fred pointed his finger at you from across the hall. You were floating carelessly by the great hall’s grand window, unaware of the ginger boy, who’s attention you had captured. To him you appeared too young to belong as “one of the generic ghosts of hogwarts”, unlike the many long dead. He was filled with burning curiosity and wondered what it was about you that made him so drawn to you. All of this was unbeknownst to you of course, because surely “Why would anyone care about you, you were invisible”.

“I told you before mate, there’s nothing there.” Seeing nothing, george retorted and took a hold of his brothers arm in the hopes of dragging him away from the seemingly vacant hall. Fred protested by tearing his arm out of his brothers grip, clinging himself closer to the edge of the door frame to get a better look at you. Unlike the rest of the ghosts of the castle, which appeared like a washed out copy of their former selves alive, you however, had an ethereal aura around you, a faint glow if you like. If it weren't for your drained complexion and clearly pained expression, Fred could have sworn that you weren’t even a ghost at all.

You stared longingly through the stained glass window, and brought your hand up to the glass only to have it go straight through without even touching it. One of the many inconveniences about being a ghost was that you could not interact with anything in the living. Only your spiritual appearance remained. Finally deciding that hovering around the Main hall had lost its excitement, you turned away towards the wall and floated straight through it to the next corridor.

Helena: I'm fine.

Baron: yEAh YoU aRe!

Helena: What?