Forgotten Girl

Headmasters and Haste

It was at dinner one night in early March that Lilli met Professor Dumbledore. She'd been expecting him to do so for a while now, ever since Uncle Remus had asked about it over Christmas Break.

"Miss Simmons." Lilli looked up from her book, making eye contact with the headmaster, "Would you spare me a moment of your time?" 

"Of course, Professor." She stood from the Slytherin table, ignoring the snickers from her housemates. A few earned a flick to the head, and the rest shut up pretty quick. Over the past few months, they had learned that Lilli was not to be messed with. The fact that she'd made friends with Draco Malfoy helped.

"Oooo, Simmons is in trouble," teased Jonathon Garrets, a boy in her year. She slapped him on the back of the head, muttering, "Grow up, Garrets."

 He led her to his office, guarded by stone gargoyles that sprang apart when he said, 'Chocolate Frogs'. Dumbledore motioned for her to sit across from him. He studied her for long moments over his half-moon spectacles and folded hands.

"Miss Potter, do you like Professor Lockhart?" he said at length. Lilli jumped. She hadn't told anyone about her real surname, but then, this was Dumbledore. Of course he knew.

"How do you mean?" She asked.

"Is he a good teacher?"

"No, sir," Lilli said frankly, "He talks of nothing but himself during class and he set loose a bunch of Cornish Pixies on the second year Gryffindors before Christmas Break. And he expects us to have all the latest copies of his books when half the kids here can't afford one."

Dumbledore smiled thinly, "Yes, his teaching methods are quite unique. He was the only one I could get on such short notice."

"Pardon me, sir, but why are you telling me this?"

"I'm looking into replacements for next year," he told her, "I would like to know if your uncle would be interested."

"I'm sure he would be, although he won't take it," Lilli explained, "He'll think he's putting the students at risk."

"I'm sure I could ease his worries." 

"Then I'm sure that he would accept." She thought for a moment,  "Sir, are you sure you want Uncle Moony in the same school as Fred and George Weasley?"

At this, the old man laughed. "I trust your uncle has matured." Dumbledore's smiling expression turned serious, "There is another matter I'd like to discuss with you, Miss Potter."

"Yes, Professor?" 

"You have not told your brother, correct?" Lilli nodded, "I think it's in Harry's best interest, and yours, if it remains that way."

Lilli frowned. She knew he was right, especially since Harry was considered "The Heir of Slytherin" right now. Having a Slytherin sister wouldn't help matters.

"Of course, Professor." Dumbledore nodded, waving a hand at the door, and Lilli knew she was dismissed.  

She left, heading for the common room. It was as she passed the second floor that she heard someone crying, and followed it to one of the girls' bathrooms.

"Hello? Are you alright?" She asked, pushing open the door. The crying ceased with a hiccup, although Lilli could still hear sniffles coming from one stall.

"Why do you care?" A wavery voice demanded, "No one ever really cares. They just want to moan about their own problems."

"I don't like people being upset. What's wrong?" Lilli watched a ghost, Moaning Myrtle, come from one of the stalls. The girl had died tragically young, just fourteen years old.

"Today is my birthday," Myrtle sniffed, wiping at nonexistent tears, "I'm sixty-two now."

Lilli settled against the wall, Myrtle sitting beside her, "Happy birthday. I'm sorry you're upset."

"I should be married by now," she lamented, "With grown-up children. I should have been a journalist, writing for the Daily Prophet."

Lilli wasn't sure what to say. How do you comfort a ghost without sounding patronizing? It's not like she could just say, 'It'll be alright', because that wasn't true.

"I'm sorry, Myrtle. You should have had all of that and more." The ghost looked at her with overly bright eyes.

"Do you want to know what happened?" Lilli hesitated, but nodded, "It was positively dreadful. I died in that stall, the very last one. I came in here crying after Olive Hornby teased me about my glasses. The door was locked, but someone came in. They said something funny, must have been a different language. The strange thing? It was a boy. So, I unlocked the door, to tell him to go use his own toilet... next thing I know, I'm dead."

"How?" Lilli was leaning toward the ghost, who looked thrilled to tell.

"I don't know. All I remember were these big bright yellow eyes. My body seized up and then... I was floating away," Myrtle looked wistful, "Then, I came back. Determined as I was to haunt Olive Hornby." Lilli heard the distant tolling of the clock, marking 9 o'clock. She shook herself, not believing it'd been an hour since she'd spoken with Professor Dumbledore. It was half an hour until the first-year curfew.

"That's tragic," Lilli stood reluctantly, "I should be going, though. I need to get back to Slytherin. I'll come visit again, when I get the chance." Myrtle gave her a half-hearted wave, deflating from her excitement.

The corridors were empty, most people already in their common rooms doing homework or studying for the exams in three months. Lilli hurried along, pausing as she passed a window. The night was clear, not a cloud in the sky, and she could see the moon. It was almost full, just three days shy. Seeing it gave her a pang of longing for home, and she wished she could talk to Aunt Thia and Uncle Remus. 

Something flashed in the window, a reflection of something behind her. There was a soft brushing sound like something was slithering across the corridor. Before Lilli could turn around, her eyes met the eyes of the... the thing behind her in the reflection.

Big. Bright. Yellow. Eyes.