The Protector

New Accusations and Theories

"Have you talked to Hermione since she's been in the hospital?" Ron had asked Harry and I. It's been about a week since the whole "turning into pansy" thing. Every once and a while I would find a short black hair, and I would pluck it out. We were walking up the staircases, and I was in the front.

"I did, and she's doing good," I told him.

"Yeah, she should be out in a couple of days," Harry added.

"Why don't you go see her for yourself?" I asked.

"Because," Ron just shook his head and paused, "i-i-it would just be weird."

"How? You're just friends."

"I know," Ron finished the conversation as I got to the top of the stairwell. I stepped onto the floor, and I felt something against my shoe. Looking down, I noticed my reflection in the floor. Oh no...

"What's all this?" Harry asked. I shrugged and we all started to run down the hallways. As we got into the main corridor, I saw the whole hallway was covered in water. "I think Moaning Myrtle flooded the bathroom again," Harry spoke up again. We all ran into the bathroom. Sure enough, the sinks were overflowing. We walked in deeper, and I saw Myrtle sitting on the window sill.

"Come to throw something else at me?" she asked.

"Of course not," I shook my head. "Why would we be throwing things at you?"

"How would I know? I was just sitting here, minding my own business, when someone comes in and throws a book at me," Myrtle moped.

"But it can't hurt you, because it'll go right through you," Ron pointed out. I rolled my eyes at his comment.

Myrtle flew right in front of Ron, "Of course! Let's all throw things at Myrtle because she won't be able to feel it! Ten points if it goes through her stomach!" and with that she punched through Ron's abdomen. "Fifty points if you throw it through her head!" and she punched through Ron's thick skull.

"Well, who threw it at you?" I asked.

She shrugged, "I don't know. I was just sitting, and pondering about death and it came through the top of my head," and with that she started to cry and moan.

As Myrtle flew away, I took a deep breath and looked around. There was a black book lying on the floor. I was very curious about it, but it gave me a bad vibe. It was almost like...an evil feeling. I didn't like it. Not one bit.

Harry, being who he is, decided to pick it up. I kept eyeing the book as if it was coated with The Black Plague. Then I spoke up, "I think it's best if we keep going and head back to the dormitories."

They both nodded, and we headed back. As soon as we got there, I noticed all the people were gone. There was silence through the common room. I could only assume that they all had gone to bed. Ron announced that he was heading to bed, and that he didn't feel good after what Myrtle 'did to him'.

Once Ron was up the stairs, and behind the closed door, I turned to Harry, "You should go to bed also." I eyed the book, "And you shouldn't mess with that. You should turn it into Dumbledore."

"I might," he looked down at the book.

"I'm serious Harry," I walked closer. "That thing is dangerous."

"How do you know?" He snapped at me.

"It's my instinct," I snapped back. "You know I have a good one. And what about last year. I was right."

"Oh please," he narrowed his eyes, "that's just luck. You have no instinct. You're just a faker."

I stared into his eyes. They were still green, but something was different with them. It almost like he wasn't alone. I then said in a small whisper, "If that's what you think."