Can anyone who has both read and seen the Cursed Child confirm that a certain ghost DID SAY of a certain pretty boy:
‘You’d be amazed at how many girls AND BOYS I heard doing love incantations’
Whereas my copy of the script only says ‘girls’ ???
Yes! I saw this in late previews and they had indeed added “and boys”, and as far as I know they kept it there permanently.
If this counts as “representation” in their opinion let me just say IT’S NOT ENOUGH.
I saw it last week and it’s still in there so hopefully a permanent change. So disappointed it isn’t in the book though. It’s *something* and I’m so glad for it, so I’ll take it… But just stop tiptoeing around ffs.
Happy Tuesday! I wrote this ficlet for the Minor Character (MC2) Romione March Challenge on the HPRomione Discord! Thank you to @el-eye-zee-aye for hosting! I had a blast writing Moaning Myrtle
Please check out the collection of works on AO3 for more
The Prefects’ bathroom is one of the happiest places in the castle—at least, in Myrtle Warren’s opinion.
But the best part?
Not just any student can have access to it, so it’s not often that she has to share its brilliance with some horrible and whiny teens. Her favorite feature is the candle-filled chandelier. In the evenings, the light casts a magnificent glow upon the white marble floors, bringing life into the room despite its emptiness.
The toilets really are the best in the castle to swirl into. It’s an honest shame that the large in-ground tub doesn’t get too many visitors. The lavender scent of the bath salts is to diefor. The only thing missing is…
Oh.
Well, perhaps it would be nice to have some company. It was dreadful having to fly from bathroom to bathroom during the recent Battle of Hogwarts, watching in horror as her perfect porcelain toilets were smashed to bits.
Myrtle casts a forlorn glance towards the door, hoping someone will walk in. As if they read her mind, the door swings open so fast that she almost doesn’t have time to hide behind one of the stalls. She likes to make a dramatic entrance, after all.
A familiar-looking boy with stark red hair tugs on the hand of a girl with frizzy brown curls, pulling her quickly into the room before shutting the door. They drop hands as soon as they think they’re alone. The girl looks away from the boy, a blush creeping up on her cheek as she bites her lip. The boy shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels.
Myrtle notices that they’re both holding towels underneath their arms. Interesting, very interesting.
“So, uh…” The boy clears his throat. “Reckon I’m not surprised that the wards are no longer up to get in here.”
The girl nods. “Yeah, this is the best place for a bath.”
“Really? So, you’ve, uh, you’ve been in here to…to do that?”
“Yes, of course. Haven’t you?”
Ah.So they were once prefects. Myrtle wants to call out and inform them that they’re not the only couple that has passed through these doors wanting an escape from the rest of the castle. Although, she can only imagine the state of the crumbling structure as it is now. She doesn’t often venture outside of her favorite places.
The ginger-haired boy coughs again, jerking his head towards the tub. “Well, it’s free now, and I could stand to rinse off this grime.” He pats his tattered clothing, and Myrtle wrinkles her nose as she takes a peek through the gap in the stall.
Oh, she can’t stand witnessing this awkwardness any longer as more seconds tick away without conversation between the couple. It’s time for Myrtle to make her presence known.
She flies upward, hovering above the bathroom stalls as she grins at the mutual shocked expressions on the teens’ faces.
“Welcome!”
“Oh!” The girl’s eyes widen, taking a step back as she places a hand over her heart. “Sorry. We didn’t realize anyone was in here, Myrtle.”
Myrtle scoffs and raises her eyebrows at the pair through her thick-rimmed glasses. “I’m not just anyone, you know. I happen to be a valuable presence to this castle. What is it youwant? I don’t suppose you both want to use the bath at the same time…”
“Well, we’re certainly not here to flood the toilets,” the ginger mumbles, but not quiet enough.
Myrtle clenches her jaw, hoping that her narrowed eyes give away a thunderous look, daring the boy to speak further. Her gaze shifts to the girl with bushy brown curls standing next to him, who looks even more recognizable than the boy.
Ohwait.
An image flashes through Myrtle’s memory of a younger Hermione Granger in the girl’s lavatory, except at the time the girl donned cat fur, ears, and a tail. The recollection dissolves Myrtle into a fit of giggles.
“Oh yeah.” She points a finger at the couple, ignoring Hermione’s crossed arms and tapping foot. “I remember you.”
“We remember you, too, Myrtle.” Hermione’s tone is stiff and formal, although her eyes never stray from Myrtle’s.
Too much time passes in silence, and Myrtle grows far too impatient. Are these two going to do or say anything, or is she going to have to do all of the work for them? She sighs, tilting her head at Hermione while breathing in through her teeth.
“I don’t mean to stare,” Hermione chews on her bottom lip, seemingly contemplating her next words. “It’s just—I might have expected to see you in the girls’ lavatory on the—”
“I can travel to any bathroom I see fit, and I like this one.”
“Oh. Of course you can travel,” Hermione quickly adds. “You probably did so through—”
“Throughwhat?”
Hermione’s face flushes. “Nevermind. It’s not important.”
A wave of violent fury washes over Myrtle as she clenches her fists at her sides, all too annoyed by the secrecy. She’s notjust a miserable ghost. There are no rules saying she has to confine herself to one toilet for the rest of her afterlife.
“What’s not important?” Myrtle circles the young couple, observing the curious way their fingers lace together as she leans closer. “The fact that I am dead?”
The boy whispers in Hermione’s ear, but not soft enough. “It’s a touchy subject.”
“Ron!”
A shriek leaves Myrtle’s lips as she flies in front of this boy’s face until they’re nose to freckled nose—oh yes, of course he’s another Weasley, how could she forget? “Do you always bug people? Bug bug bug?” She jabs her index finger through his stomach several times, intent on poking him.
Myrtle will not stand for these pithy insults.
“Hey, stop that!” Ron jumps away, his eyes growing wide at her outburst.
Although Myrtle has half a mind to open up all of the taps in the room—imaginethe amount of bubbles—she doesn’t want to do something that would be considered in typical Myrtle fashion. She’s tired of reflecting on her own dramatic death and could use a new source of entertainment.
These two have been the center of massive gossip about the castle over the years, and she can’t believe she didn’t recognize them right away. In fact, she can recall a young, pretty girl named Lavender frequently moaning about her dormmate, Hermione, so much so that Myrtle started to avoid the poor, jealous girl whenever she would walk in looking for a chat.
A question comes to mind, spilling out of Myrtle’s mouth without a second thought. “Are you two snogging now?”
Ron’s face turns a distinct shade of red that matches his vibrant hair, a clear indicator that the topic of conversation has shifted into uncomfortable, or perhaps unfamiliar, territory.
“That’s personal, Myrtle,” Hermione admonishes.
Fine.She was hoping for some new gossip, but she shouldn’t be surprised that the pair continue to remain tight-lipped. Perhaps it would be best to give the couple some privacy. Believe it or not, Myrtle doesn’t relish in other people’s misery. She is just about to declare as such when the door swings open again, revealing her favorite boy with glasses and a jagged scar on his forehead, along with another ginger-haired girl.
"What are you guys doing here?” Harry Potter inquires, his eyes slowly darting from Ron and Hermione to Myrtle’s ghostly presence hovering in the background.
“Harry! You survived.“ Although pleased to see him, Myrtle can’t help but let her mouth falter into a pout. "I was going to share my toilet with you.”
“Er, sorry to disappoint, Myrtle.”
"Us?” Ron asks, flicking a finger in his friend’s direction. “What about you and Ginny?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Myrtle floats between the two couples, sniggering. “Harry wants to take a bubble bath.”
“Why did she just wink at you?” Ginny demands, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Oh, it’s, uh—it’s nothing, Gin.“ Harry shifts from side to side, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room. "Honestly.”
“Well, I bloody hope so. She’s a ghost.”
Myrtle lets out a raucous wail. “I. Am. A. Person. With feelings!”
With an air of finality, she flies into a toilet stall and the door whips shut behind her with a slamming force. Myrtle’s shoulders begin to tremble along with the pace of her sniffling. She must look dreadfully unattractive, but she can’t seem to stop crying.
“Of course you are, Myrtle,” Harry’s soothing voice echoes from outside the barrier she’s created. Even though she knows he’s being comforting out of fear of upsetting her further, she still appreciates the attention. He is the Chosen One who just defeated the wizard responsible for her death. She should be grateful, shouldn’t she?
“Harry, you really are a golden egg.” Myrtle opens the stall door to face the couples, resisting the urge to wink at her favorite boy again. She can’t be seen as a desperate flirt. “And so handsome…”
Drat, that one slipped out.
“He’s a bloody martyr, this one,” Ron grumbles, and Hermione nudges him in the ribs.
A frown forms on Myrtle’s face. It’s quite bothersome how much tension is in the air between the four in the room. They did just complete a grim mission to take out the most powerful dark wizard of all time, who has spent years wreaking more havoc on Hogwarts than the basilisk that killed her. Myrtle is sure that the defeat was gruesome and dramatic and she wants all of the details.
“I always knew you could do it, Harry. So, tell me. What was it like destroying a part of your own soul?”
She heard the rumors, of course.
Although Myrtle hopes he’ll indulge her, Harry only winces. “Too soon.”
She purses her lips, growing irritated at the audacity of these couples invading her perfect, wet hideout, without even offering any new information.
“Fine. I suppose I’ll go. Clearly I’m not welcomed in my own bathroom.” Myrtle chokes back a fresh batch of tears, her thoughts drifting to the hard truth of not being the most popular supernatural being in the castle.
What’s so special about a nearly headless ghost, anyway?
“No need to leave, Myrtle. Maybe we should go to the dorms, Harry.” Ginny tugs on his sleeve. “I’m sure the showers will be free there.”
“Right.”
“So you wereplanning to shower together?” Ron glares at the pair.
Ginny snorts. “What was it you were planning to do with Hermione, dear brother?”
A high-pitched squeak leaves Ron’s lips. “That’s not important.”
“Oh, feel free to stay. All of you!” Myrtle drifts between Ron and Harry, a thrilling shiver running up and down her spine from her close proximity to these two handsome boys. “You can pretend I’m not here. I’ll close my eyes!”
“Er, thanks, Myrtle,” Ron moves away from her. “Maybe a cleansing charm will do the trick, actually.”
“No, no. Stay! I can flood this bathroom, if you want me to? That way no one bothers you for a bit.”
Four sets of eyes form a blank stare in her direction, and it doesn’t seem like Myrtle’s idea is targeting the right audience. Maybe she is just a ghoulish distraction, maybe the second floor girl’s bathroom is a better place for her…
“I wish I could find a love like you four have.” Myrtle bows her head, her shoulders sagging in defeat.
“We shouldn’t have encroached on your space.” Hermione offers a sympathetic smile. “We’re sorry, Myrtle. You belong here just as much as anyone else.”
The validation is simple, but it’s enough to make Myrtle’s heart swell with warmth that’s been missing for a very long time.
She twirls her hair between her fingers with a toothy grin plastered to her face. “Well, it’s nice to have visitors sometimes. And you’re always welcome in the girl’s bathroom!”
Hermione leans into Ron as he smiles down at her, wrapping an arm around her waist. Harry mirrors his best friend’s actions, intertwining his fingers with Ginny’s.
Ah, young love.
“Thanks, Myrtle!” With a final wave, the four turn to exit the room. Myrtle’s stomach drops, not yet ready for the loss of her latest companions.
"Oh, one more thing.”
They all face Myrtle again with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension on their faces.
The next set of words that tumble out of Myrtle’s mouth are perhaps the most earnest words she’s ever spoken. “Thank you. Truly.”
Her gaze shifts to Harry, whose eyes soften as he takes in the meaning behind her gratitude.
Thank you for defeating him.
For a simple moment in time, her animosity towards humans grows weaker as her adoration for them shines through.
Maybe they’re not all as unpleasant as Olive Hornby.
