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━━ chapter eight. detention
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IT WAS finally nightime on Tuesday, the time Lori had been dreading all day. She'd avoided eye contact with both Sirius and James for mostly the whole day. McGonagall had given them the pleasure of cleaning the girls lavatory, but not any lavatory, the second floor one. Many avoided that bathroom, purely for the reason of a ghost that haunted it.
Moaning Myrtle.
There were many rumors about how the young bespectacled girl had died. Some being that she was murdered by a rogue snake, a pet to a Slytherin. Of course, that wasn't true. After all, Dumbledore, who was a Professor at the time, would've known if a student kept such a dangerous pet. Lori, along with every other girl avoided the second floor bathroom like it was a plague. Myrtle would obnoxiously bother any one who dared walk in so much, many would rather avada themselves then go back.
Since there was no use of that lavatory, and Filch felt like there had been no need to clean it (odd seeing that it was literally his job), the bathroom was plain filthy. Dust, dirt, and grim littered the surfaces everywhere. Upon hearing McGonagall's order to clean and scrub it spotless, without the magic—so the muggle way, Lori had tried to get out of it. She pretended to be sick, but the Professor wasn't daft. After all, it was only Fall. Lori wasn't sorted into Ravenclaw for a reason. She wasn't always the smartest.
It was around seven-fifteen when Lori trudged up to the second floor. It was right after dinner, so the freckled girl had been dressed in muggle clothing, a pair of grey sweatpants with the Slytherin snake running down the side, and a plain green t-shirt, which just happened to be Corban's. She had stolen it back in third year.
Upon arriving to the lavatory, she spotted James and Sirius chatting in the middle of the empty place. Both were dressed in muggle clothing, similar to hers, only their's were red. Their eyes snapped over to the approaching girl, both unintentionally smiling at her presence.
"Freckles." James cooly greeted with a nod of acknowledgement, stuffing his hands into his sweatpants pockets.
The girl looked up at him blankly before replying shortly, "Potter. Don't call me that."
