We have known ghosts, who can speak of the other side. We vanish from one place to appear in the next; we transform from one being to another and back again. Such a very logical way of looking at it, from a Wizarding point of view.
Griselda even produced a monocle to read her remarks A brilliant image.
Out of courtesy I spat in the drain the bathtub and rinsed my toothbrush. What a delightful detail. It would have been rude to spit on Myrtle, of course. And given her reaction to books thrown through at her, it would have disturbed the silence, too.
”They’ve been green for seventy two years,” I said. Vintage remark!
“I might as well be dead, for all anyone cares!” And that’s so exasperatingly Myrtle.
“Children have not had time to attach themselves to this world,” the Headmaster mused. “Their relationships are rarely so conflicted—“ Such an interesting explanation for the causes of hauting.
I have had rich, rewarding, emotionally intimate relationships with others—not just Amelia, but Rolanda and more recently Pomona—but Myrtle has been there at every junction of my life, for as long as I can remember. That is such an excellent description of what a best female friend can be.
I have an unusually comfortable bathroom On first reading I didn’t grasp the full significance until Myrtle’s bath salts came into the story – I love it. Of course you would have a bathroom like this, with your best friend being what she is.
My dear reader, I didn’t know what to say. Quite. A startling comment, if there ever was one.
Madam Hooch said it was, and she should know.” Indeed.
when I caught her and Griselda Marchbanks in the prefects’ bath one night during exams Occasionally, dear Headmistress, it would be worth it to lose hours over gossip with Myrtle.
So very like Rolanda, though; despite the unexpected nature of the confession, it rang true. Why, I believe it does. Not that I know Madam Hooch in the biblical sense myself, more’s the pity, but it’s how she seems to me.
She would lean forward, catching her companion’s eye, drawing that companion in—drawing me in—as if our conversation were suspended there precariously, midair, between the two of us, a fragile thing that only we could sense or share! An image that draws me in; it’s that perfect.
Amelia was a thing of intelligence and fire. I think I’m falling in love with your Amelia.
if we could simply explain to the Wizengamot why Myrtle is such a bloody pain in the arse when it comes to Olive Hornby I love Amelia’s dry practicality and her way of calling a spade a spade.
Where was the sense in that, I ask you? Ah, but since when does sense play a part in love?
I have led a happy life, you know. I have enjoyed the support and affection of dozens of friends, family members, colleagues, and students. I have several companions over the years, each of whom touched my life in some meaningful way. I have lived my life on my terms and never looked back. I could not, should not, ask for more. Anyone who can say this is truly fortunate. Regrets nothwithstanding.
“You might at least be polite about it,” Myrtle said crossly. “In that case, no thank you,” I said. Hahaha! Great reply.
Love is about intimacy—nothing more, nothing less. So true.
“Do at least attempt to be a good kisser, Myrtle. Use your imagination. Both parties need to make an effort.” Professor McGonagall, you’re a delightfully stern teacher. And an excellent one.
In fact, I realized, it felt good to be with Myrtle almost always. I had missed my chance once. I didn’t want to do so again. You’re so right.
I smiled. “Want to try again?” Just the right note to end this story on.