Chapter 70: 5th September 1991, Thursday: Part 4

George immediately distinguished the girl's voice and was well aware of who had called out to him, hence why he wasn't panicking. What a shame, he'd been hoping to get a few extra minutes of peace before she turned up. It would have been nice if he could have started brewing before the interruptions began. His head quickly spun around only to find no one there, it was just open and empty cubicles. No one appeared for the few seconds that George stared in the direction the voice came from, he presumed that Myrtle was just having some fun with him.

What a stereotypical ghost, making noises and floating away before the victim could see them. George thought that Myrtle must have stuck her head out from the toilet bowl and called out to him whilst his back was turned. She then hid back down the u-bend before he could turn around to see her. As much as he would like her to just come out and say hi, Myrtle seemed to have something more annoying in mind. He predicted when he turned around that he would hear her voice again and the cycle would continue until she got bored of messing with him.

If she wanted to have fun, then he would let it be. It's not like George could do anything to stop her. Since he had to unload all of his equipment, he didn't mind letting her distract him for the next couple of minutes. After waiting for a moment, George smiled and went to turn back to the cubicle he had set his sights on. He turned around only to jump out of his skin as Myrtle was floating just a few inches in front of him with a massive cheeky smile plastered on her face. It took all of George's self-discipline plus the effects of the Calming Draught not to instinctively lash out.

That surprise had really taken George off guard, he wasn't used to not being able to hear people moving around him. He had a very keen sense of hearing which he relied on more so than his eyesight during his sneaking escapades, it was one of his greatest and most reliable tools. Unfortunately, ghosts don't produce any sound unless they speak, he had temporarily forgotten that fact. George placed one hand on his chest and controlled his breathing to regulate his heartbeat, his body had automatically gone into full alert. The Calming Draught worked wonders as it kept his emotions in check but his body still suffered. He could feel his purple bruises tearing after he tensed his muscles.

On the other end of the spectrum, Myrtle giggled upon seeing George become so startled. He thought that she would probably get on with Gemma like a house on fire if they ever met. He could feel his heart beating as fast as a hummingbird's and as hard as a jackhammer, this concerning heartbeat must have been what Pomfrey had noticed when he passed out at the Sorting Hat Ceremony. Luckily, his heart slowed down just as quickly as it increased, any danger appeared to have been averted. Once George regained his composure, he smiled and acted like he was happy to see his guard ghost again.

George spoke whilst panting, "you got me good, I thought my heart had stopped for a second. I hope you don't plan on making this a habit, I'm not sure if my body could take the daily punishment."

Myrtle appeared to only listen to the latter half of George's request, her devious smile grew as she immediately started to misinterpret what he'd said. Her floating body glided forward until she was right in front of him, she crossed her arms and tilted her head to one side whilst staring at him. This was another bad side effect of using the girl's bathroom as his laboratory, he knew Myrtle would never leave him alone. George had a rather large personal bubble he didn't like people invading without his permission. Myrtle's intimacy was something he would have to learn to get used to. Otherwise, he would be unable to concentrate on brewing any potions in her intrusive company.

Myrtle asked him coyly, "did you say you would be visiting every day?"

George made his face turn red in embarrassment as he held his hands up by his chest and walked several paces backwards. His persona was meant to be shy after all and this was a girl he was talking to. Eleven-year-old boys were meant to find girlfriends repulsive until a few more years passed. Still, it wouldn't hurt if he showed a little affection, it was obviously something Myrtle craved beyond all else.

He hesitantly spoke to Myrtle to correct her misinterpretation, "I was looking around for a place to practise brewing potions and I couldn't think of anywhere else but here. The bathroom is somewhere I can escape from the Slytherin students and the company's nice here as well.

But, that's just an afterthought, don't go reading too much into it. So yeah, I was planning on coming here at least once a day, if you don't mind that is."

George held his hand over his mouth to stop himself from talking whilst averting his eyes from Myrtle to hide his 'embarrassment'. He didn't have to look at Myrtle to know that she was taking great pleasure out of watching George squirming in shame.

As one would expect, George heard a girl's laughter echo throughout the bathroom. The sound of high pitch giggling travelled from all around him before it finally stopped at the pillar of sinks. George turned around to see Myrtle lying down on her chest from on top of the pillar whilst cradling her head in one of her hands. She was also twirling her hair with the other hand and looking towards the ceiling whilst humming a tune. She appeared to be considering George's excuse for visiting daily and was determining whether she condoned it. He knew that this was all an act to make him worry that she might turn him away.

In order to indulge her fictitious authority, George pretended to become nervous after seeing her apprehension to agreeing to his suggestion. He expressed this through his body language by rubbing his hands together whilst tapping his foot against the floor frantically. Myrtle subtly looked at George from the corner of her eye and a slight smirk started to appear on her face.

Myrtle turned her head toward him and declared, "seems fine to me, you can brew whatever potions you like here, just don't make a mess. I'm pretty sure that it's against the rules to brew potions in the bathrooms but, being such a generous and understanding person, I will look the other way.

Why do you want to brew potions anyway? You've only been in Hogwarts for less than five days."

Well, wouldn't she like to know, Myrtle couldn't help herself but stick her nose into other people's business. Since this question was probably a hidden clause in the agreement, George had to offer her an explanation. He acted indecisively as he looked towards the ground and bit his bottom lip, he had to give the impression to Myrtle that he was debating over revealing some big secrets. This would be a half-truth since it was indeed a secret but he had no concern about revealing it to her. His pre-thought-out excuse should prevent Myrtle from ever telling any professors about his potion brewing.

George acted ambivalent for five seconds before he raised his head, he pretended as if he'd made up his mind and had committed to telling Myrtle his 'big secret'. But just like before, Myrtle was nowhere to be seen. She had left the pillar without making a sound.

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George thought to himself, "fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice? That will never happen."

Since he knew what to expect from Myrtle, George wasn't stupid enough to be tricked twice. He knew that she must be right beside him either to his left or right, the slight temperature change was the only thing he had to go off. George could feel a slightly cool sensation coming from his left shoulder so he decided to turn in that direction, and as he expected, Myrtle was standing right next to him. He jumped into the air in shock once again except this time it was completely fake. George's talent in acting allowed him to perfectly recreate his surprise from the first scare.

Myrtle cheekily smiled whilst she insisted, "well, spit it out. I haven't got all day."

In actuality, she had all the time in the world since she was dead, but George was not going to correct her. He would never let anything related to her demise leave his lips in her company, he was well aware that Myrtle hated being treated differently because she was dead. It was fair to assume she was in some kind of post-mortem denial. Instead, George decided to pull out the pouch from his ropes which contained the Calming Draught vials. He lifted one of the vials out of the pouch and held it in front of him so that Myrtle could see it. The reflective blue liquid glistened in the light from the large circular window.

George acted miserable as he unenthusiastically told Myrtle about his 'disorder', "you probably didn't hear but I had a little accident during the Sorting Hat Ceremony. I may have had a panic attack and collapsed at the Slytherin table during the feast. I spent my first night at Hogwarts sleeping in the hospital wing.

Since then, I've been taking these potions to help control my emotions. Madam Pomfrey only gave me seven of them so I want to learn how to make more."

Myrtle looked like she was about to laugh at first, but once she heard about George's passing out, her expression changed to one of concern.

She told him, "I once spent an entire day crying in the girl's bathroom, but I've never passed out from getting upset before. That must have been scary."

George smiled after hearing Myrtle's genuine concern, this would mark the point where his 'creative interpretation of his situation' really started to ramp up.

He reassured Myrtle with self-deprecating mannerisms, "well that's the thing, it wasn't that scary since it happens all the time to me. I have a mental condition that means I am prone to having large panic attacks for seemingly little to no reason, they can happen out of the blue. I've gotten used to it since I've been like this for as long as I can remember."

Myrtle looked surprised after hearing George's confession, she probably didn't know that any sort of mental condition like that existed. Myrtle was born during the nineteen-thirties and died in the nineteen-forties, there would be no way she could have known about mental illnesses outside of insanity. Regardless of her lack of modern knowledge, she didn't seem to doubt George's words in the slightest. It showed how effective his performance was going, he would have to remember to include 'can fool a ghost' on his list of accomplishments.

Myrtle appeared a little curious, "what's it like living like that? It must be awful."

George's smile wavered as he stroked his shoulders awkwardly, "it's not too bad once I learnt how to live with it. Avoiding stressful confrontations or large groups of people generally minimises the number of panic attacks I have, I can go months without having one if I'm careful.

I've spent most of my life locked up alone whilst only having books as my company. I would be lying if I said it didn't get lonely from time to time. I used to pretend the characters in the books were real and they were my friends, it's kind of depressing now that I look back at it.

I haven't told anyone at Hogwarts about my condition until now because I didn't want them to treat me differently from any other student. I made a pretty big mistake because I underestimated how extravagant the Sorting Hat Ceremony was going to be, now I've got the teachers worrying about me and Professor Snape breathing down my neck.

But I'm kind of happy it happened because I discovered this potion that finally gave me hope to overcome my condition. Now I just have to learn how to brew it and all my problems will be fixed."

George turned from nervous to optimistic as his speech reached its end, he felt it had to be his best performance yet. It was easy for him to become genuinely passionate simply due to the Calming Draught being his real and his persona's salvation. Now that the obligatory fake story was out of the way, he could finally get on with the main reason he was here in the first place.

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