At the top of the marble staircase leading to the seventh floor of Hogwarts castle was the boys’ bathroom.

Inside, sunlight streamed through the glass windows, filling the space with a pleasant, relaxing glow. Like the other Hogwarts bathrooms, this sixth floor bathroom could transform from an inviting setting into one of the gloomiest, most depressing places. On gray, overcast days, little light penetrated the windows. Most students disliked being in the dark, empty corridors and bathrooms, especially with rain pounding heavily on the panes outside. One pale, bony-faced student with white-blond hair, however, preferred to spend his days alone and unescorted there.

Isolated in a bathroom stall, Draco Malfoy sat trembling in the shadows, his body wracked with silent sobs. Once a picture of health, the stress of his cursed task had reduced the sixth year to a gaunt, gray-skinned specter of his former self. Dark circles hollowed his eyes, evidence of countless sleepless nights. Though he struggled to restrain his emotions, tears still spilled down his hollow cheeks as stifled moans escaped his cracked lips. The abandoned cubicle shielded Draco from prying eyes, but it could not protect him from the anguish consuming his battered spirit.

He buried his head in his arms, concealing his sad, unsettled features from view. Unnoticed by him, a short, ghostly girl peered around a cubicle, blinking before gliding softly. Half-hidden behind lank hair and thick glasses, her glum face observed the trembling boy from a distance, unsure of what to say. Though curious about the boy she’d often seen crying in the bathroom, approaching others didn’t come naturally to her anymore. Once quick to comfort, the many years had left her speechless.

She approached him cautiously and spoke in the gentlest voice she could muster, thinking it appropriate for the situation. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Draco’s head snapped up, heart pounding as the ghost’s words jarred him from his thoughts. He blinked in surprise when his eyes met hers.

“I’m sorry,” the ghost whispered, backing away with a regretful look. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The boy stood abruptly and bolted for the door, but her plea made him pause, hand hovering over the handle.

“I’m not here to frighten you,” Myrtle said immediately. “I thought you might want someone to talk to… and I’m Myrtle Warren,” she quickly added.

“I know who you are,” Draco replied icily, his gaze still fixed on the door. “You’re the ghost that haunts the girls’ bathroom. I don’t need to talk to anyone, especially not a ghost.”

“You’re right,” Myrtle said quickly, ignoring the hurt she felt at being admonished. “I don’t mean to intrude on your privacy—”

Draco whirled around to face her, annoyance etched on his pale, tear-streaked face. “Are you sure about that?”

“I understand how you feel—” Myrtle began gently.

“No, you don’t!” Draco snapped, hands clenched into fists. “No one understands!”

“But I do!” Myrtle insisted, silver tears welling in her spectral eyes. “I know exactly how you feel... Don’t tell me I don’t understand when loneliness was the last thing I felt before I died!” She glided behind the sinks, peeking at him tentatively.

Silence followed her words as Draco stared at her, speechless. The rain lashing against the window reflected their inner turmoil. He considered accepting her unusual offer to speak with the dead, though he had done so briefly before. This time he felt uneasy, despite the sincerity of the gesture.

Draco had been aware of Myrtle’s presence at Hogwarts over the years. He had witnessed her crying fits, usually brought on by Peeves’ cruel teasing, and heard her anguished wails echoing from the bathroom. To Draco, she was just a ghost to be ignored—until now. The thought of confiding in the melodramatic phantom, known for bursting into tears at the slightest offense, seemed absurd. Comforting distraught girls was already challenging enough for Draco; consoling a dead one gifted in ear-splitting laments was downright laughable. Still, he had to acknowledge her forthrightness in expressing her feelings.

With a heavy sigh, Draco sat back down.

Myrtle cautiously glided closer to Draco, fearful that any sudden movement would startle him into fleeing. His downcast, miserable eyes filled with tears as quiet sobs shook his slender frame.

“What’s wrong?” Myrtle asked gently, her own tearful eyes fixed on the distraught boy.

“I can’t do it...” Draco choked out between sobs. “My attempts keep failing... people are getting hurt because of me...”

Myrtle couldn’t stop her own tears from falling as Draco sobbed. “What attempts? Who was injured? Why are you crying?” She sighed and added quickly, “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m just a ghost after all.”

But Draco only shook his head, unwilling to say more. His sobs echoed in the room, partially drowned out by the heavy patter of rain outside. He was afraiafraid people would discover his plans, afraid of being caught... Draco knew the task he’d been given was against his will. He had tried to be careful, to end his mission and stop Dumbledore without harming others. But he knew his clumsy attempts with the necklace and mead were reckless and dangerous.

“Let me help...” Myrtle gently offered again. “Tell me what’s bothering you...”

Draco’s anxiety grew as he said, “I can’t… he’ll—he’ll kill me...”

Myrtle drifted closer, her translucent skin nearly brushing his. She whispered, “Who is?”

This time, Draco sobbed uncontrollably, beyond caring if his grief affected the ghost.

Myrtle sighed miserably and placed a futile, comforting hand on his arm, the ghostly touch passing right through him. Draco shuddered at the sudden chill but dismissed it.

“You’re going to be fine,” she consoled. “No one’s going to kill you… whatever you’re attempting will work out… you’ll see...”

But her words provided no comfort, as Draco continued sobbing heartrendingly.

Draco stared at Myrtle, his face contorted with pure dread. “You don’t know what he can do,” he cried, fear evident in his trembling voice. “I’ve seen him kill people instantly!”

“Who is it?” Myrtle asked in frustration. “You can tell me.”

Draco’s eyes were bloodshot from crying, but he whispered faintly, unable to conceal the terror in his eyes, “He’ll kill me if he finds out. He’ll torture me. He’ll—” He had gotten so hysterical that he couldn’t complete his sentence.

“I won’t tell...I promise you, I won’t,” Myrtle assured him.

Draco inhaled deeply, his body shaking. Shaking his head, he said, “I shouldn’t have joined him… It’s a mistake! But—but I don’t have a choice… I shouldn’t have become a-a—” But his words died again as he sobbed.

“We all make mistakes,” Myrtle said quietly. “Even if you made a bad choice, don’t let it destroy you. You can always change the course of your actions. I did at one point in my life... it was hard, but it was worth trying.”

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“I could have made some different choices...” Draco said bitterly, feeling the constricting Dark Mark on his forearm. “I’ve let people take advantage of me, and I accepted way less than I deserve. They taunt me... bully me...” He thought of all the occasions he had endured abuse from the Death Eaters and so-called friends.

“You have to learn to say no without feeling guilty,” said Myrtle. “Setting boundaries is healthy. You need to learn to respect and take care of yourself.”

Draco raised his eyebrows at her words. “Indeed, you seem to have taken great care of yourself, considering you’re already deceased,” he said sarcastically between hiccups.

Myrtle glared down at him from her perch above the sink, no longer able to restrain her irritation. Her eyes glistened with angry tears as she spoke, “I wish people wouldn’t assume I’m incapable of understanding their struggles! Yes, I endured terrible things when I was alive, and I only mention that so you might avoid similar fates!”

“Why do you do that every time?” Draco asked suddenly, frowning at Myrtle’s tear-stained face.

“Do what?”

“Cry all the bloody time!”

“Well, I could ask the same of you!” Myrtle retorted fiercely. “I’ve seen you hiding here constantly, crying as well!”

Draco hissed with a glowering look, “It’s none of your business!”

“Oh, really?” Myrtle scoffed. “You better find another hiding spot to cry where no one can see you!”

“Yeah, I should have!” Draco snapped. “I should have known that you own the whole lavatory, so it’s easy for you to pry into other people’s business!”

Myrtle dove from the sink and stopped right in front of Draco. “It’s not my fault you decided to come here more often than I’d like!” she howled.

Draco gave her an incredulous look, unable to believe he was having a stupid row with a ghost. He sighed heavily and slowly dropped his gaze to the floor.

“I have nowhere else to go,” mumbled Draco, his solemn expression returning.

Myrtle’s anger toward Draco dissipated suddenly upon hearing his words, and a look of concern came over her ghostly face. “I may not be who you’d choose to talk to... Not many do... they don’t even miss me... but I’m here...”

Draco remained silent, merely staring at the miserable specter who took his silence as an invitation to keep talking.

“I had my moments too, you know,” she said gloomily, looking at Draco out of swollen eyes as she glided back to the sink and sat down. “I would hide for hours... and no one cared what I felt or where I went... people would rather I didn’t show up anymore...”

“I wish I could avoid this and just leave,” Draco said somberly, his expression downcast. The task given to him by the Dark Lord was proving far more difficult than he had expected. He knew that failing to kill Dumbledore would bring more than shame; at first, he had thirsted for revenge and to restore his father’s standing with the Dark Lord, but now the pressure was crushing him. His conscience gnawed uneasily at his core. He couldn’t go on with this mission, yet he had no choice.

Myrtle gaped at him in disbelief. “Why would you even think that?”

Draco gave her a shrug as bitter thoughts of the Dark Lord filled his mind. “I thought if he returned, my family’s glory days would also come back. I was ready to serve him and his new regime if he ever succeeded—but I was wrong... he discredited my father when he was sent to Azkaban. He thought my father was a failure... I was left with no choice but to take on his responsibilities and restore honor to our family...” Panic crept back into Draco’s voice. “I have no options! Their safety depends on me! I know he expects me to fail this task—but I can’t do it! I just want to leave all of this behind,” said Draco, his hands trembling. He had easily convinced himself the world would be better without the Hogwarts Headmaster. He was consumed with purpose to complete the Dark Lord’s task, but that resolve was fading. I don’t want to be a murderer.

Myrtle gazed at Draco with deep concern evident in her eyes. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” she said gently. “The choice is completely yours.” Peering intently at him through her thick spectacles, she continued, “Tell me who he is...I can help you.”

Draco’s face turned pale. “You don’t understand,” he said desperately. “He threatened to kill me if I don’t do it… he said he’ll kill my whole family...”

“We can find ways to protect your family and you,” Myrtle assured him kindly, trying to ease his anguish. “You could always speak to the Headmaster… tell him what’s happening and he can—”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Draco interrupted angrily. “It’s hard enough for me to talk to you about this, let alone the Headmaster. Besides, he can’t know... And,” he added in a swift whisper that forced Myrtle to lean in to hear, “not even Potter.”

Myrtle looked at him in surprise, her misty eyes fixed on Draco. “Harry Potter?” she asked.

Draco frowned at the mention of Potter’s name. He gave no response, neither nodding nor answering her.

Myrtle’s gaze grew even more distant. “I don’t think you need to worry about him,” she said. “I’ve always thought Harry was so sweet and not the type to pry into other people’s business—” She added quickly in a menacing tone, “Unlike Peeves, who seems to enjoy upsetting me at every turn.”

Draco shook his head. “You’re wrong about Potter. He’s been acting strange around me lately. I’ve caught him watching me—I’m certain he already suspects something.” He remembered how Severus Snape had warned him that someone was growing suspicious about his recent changes: losing interest in Quidditch, neglecting his schoolwork and prefect duties, and even passing up opportunities to mock Potter and his friends. Yes, Potter had definitely noticed. But Draco didn’t care. His mission was more important.

Myrtle gazed at Draco, perplexed. “Suspects you of what?” she asked.

Draco’s eyes narrowed with icy irritation as he recalled his last failed attempt. “Potter needs to mind his own business and stop meddling in my plans,” he fumed through gritted teeth. Slamming his fist against the tiles, Draco let out a frustrated yell. “I’ll just have to be more careful and make sure he doesn’t interfere next time.”

Myrtle stiffened next to him, but still tried to speak in Harry’s defense. “I don’t think Harry would get involved—”

“Keep quiet, Mudblood!” Draco snarled, cutting her off in fury. He clearly had no interest in hearing Myrtle defend Potter further. “You don’t know what you’re talking about! You’re clueless!”

“Oh, really!” Myrtle retorted swiftly, her eyes flashing with rage to match Draco’s, though tears welled up beneath her eyelids. “Yet it’s alright for you to hurl hurtful insults, the same ones people used to fling at me so often in the past—”

“Don’t start crying now!” Draco hissed. “I’ve got enough problems without you adding to them.”

Stung by his words, Myrtle floated upward with a threatening air. “I was just trying to keep you company so you wouldn’t be lonely!” she cried, deeply upset by his ungrateful behavior.

“I might have accepted if you’d stop crying around me. You’re talking nonsense!” Draco snapped.

“You don’t have to be so rude to me,” she rebuked. “I’m the only one putting up with your ridiculous behavior right now instead of leaving you alone. You should be grateful.”

Draco couldn’t deny she was right, though he hadn’t asked for her company. He inhaled sharply and lowered his head.

The two sat in silence for a time, neither speaking. Once his temper cooled, Draco began quietly, “I know I’ve been acting like a jerk, but I couldn’t control it. I’ve hurt people’s feelings—”

“And mine!” Myrtle interjected loudly, miffed at being left out.

Draco rolled his eyes. “And ghosts,” he conceded.

Though irked, Myrtle seemed pleased to be included after all.

“This isn’t my normal self,” Draco continued honestly. “Confiding my inner thoughts to another...”

“Why not?” Myrtle asked.

Draco paused before responding, “It’s difficult to trust others these days. People constantly belittle me, so I’ve chosen isolation to scheme alone. Some feign interest in my plans just to steal the glory for themselves.” His thoughts turned to Severus Snape, who relentlessly pressed to know his agenda. Draco would never accept Snape’s offer of aid or protection, no matter how highly the Dark Lord favored him. Though both men kept many secrets, Draco knew that Snape could not be trusted.

Don’t let it bother you when people criticize or gossip about you,” advised Myrtle gently. “Those people are just trying to find flaws in your life to distract from their own faults. I learned that the hard way—it was awful!” She spoke dramatically, “I wasted so much energy getting upset over little things I couldn’t control. Before I knew it, I was—I was—” Myrtle struggled to maintain her composure and not weep in front of the boy.

Draco already guessed the word ‘dead’ before she finished speaking. He realized he had no concept of what it was like to die. Would it be painful or peaceful? He wondered how the Dark Lord would kill him if he failed his task - would it be prolonged torture until his body gave out, or a swift merciless end? Draco shuddered at the thought.

Draco spoke quietly, “All I’m saying is... I don’t want to fail. Even though some may already see me as a failure.”

“Failures are part of growth,” Myrtle said firmly. “Believe in yourself and you will succeed. You are not a failure.”

Draco gave a faint, sad smile.

Silence fell between them once more. Draco knew his time was up; he had to return to the Slytherin common room. Suddenly, he stood, surprising Myrtle.

“Are you leaving?” Myrtle asked.

“Yeah,” Draco nodded. “I have to. I’m still a student after all.”

Myrtle looked suddenly mournful, but with a hopeful gaze, she asked, “Will I see you again?”

“Maybe,” Draco said curtly. He turned to walk out the door but glanced back and said, “Promise me you won’t tell anyone about our conversation.”

“I promise. Your secret is safe with me,” Myrtle said, raising her hand in a gesture of confidence.

Draco smirked. “Thanks,” he said, then disappeared behind the door.

A single ray of watery light pierced the bathroom window, illuminating the spot where the blond-haired boy had stood moments before.

THE END