"Don't tease me!"
"Aww, is poor little Myrtle going to cry? Shed a few tears for us, Myrtle!"
Her face screwed up in an effort not to cry, but she failed. A few lone tears escaped from under her eyelids and were presented to a jeering crowd. They whooped and hollered like there was no tomorrow, causing Myrtle to run from the room.
On the other side of the classroom, Tom Riddle sat in silence. A school prefect, he wasn't sure if he should interfere or not. It was only three weeks into the school term and already things in the Transfiguration class were going downhill. Professor Dumbledore had yet to arrive, leaving Tom to battle with his morals on whether or not he should step in and put a stop to the teasing.
"Did you see the look on her face?" Arnie Manchester laughed. Arnie had been the ringleader of Myrtle's teasing crowd and looked thoroughly pleased with himself. Tom didn't particularly like Arnie. His red hair and freckles gave him somewhat of a ratty look and Tom couldn't stand the way he picked on everyone around him when he, himself, was no better.
"Alright, everyone, please take your seats." Professor Dumbledore entered the room with an air of confidence, as always. He swept to the front of the classroom and set his books down on his desk. He showed no signs of understanding what happened in the class a few moments prior, but he motioned for Tom to join him at his desk while the other students got settled.
"Tom, I have a favour to ask," he said, drawing closer to Tom's face so that no one else could hear their conversation. "I passed Myrtle in the hallway on my journey here and she seemed upset about something. Could I trouble you to go talk to her and make sure she's okay?"
The last thing Tom wanted to do was seek out freaky Myrtle and talk to her about her feelings, but the pleading in Dumbledore's eyes made him reconsider his original decision.
"Of course, sir," he said, heading for the doorway. "I won't be long."
He followed the sound of Myrtle's wails to the second story girls' lavatory. Inside he could hear Myrtle's sobs and he rapped softly on the door. "Myrtle?"
Myrtle's sobs subsided. "What?" she asked irritably. "What do you want?"
Tom found it against his better judgement to tell her that Professor Dumbledore asked him to look after her, so he made up a little white lie. "I just wanted to come and see if you were okay, or if you wanted to talk about what happened."
An emotional outburst brought Myrtle to the door of the washroom. She flew out in such a rage that Tom had to back himself up against the opposite wall to avoid being hit by her fury. "You wanted to see how I was?" she snarled. "Are you sure? You didn't come to taunt me? About my hair, my clothes, my glasses? Are you absolutely positive?"
"Of course," Tom said enthusiastically, his back still pressed against the wall. "I just wanted to make sure you were all right."
Myrtle suddenly blushed a deep crimson. "I'm so sorry," she said, her face screwing up in embarrassment. "I'm so very sorry. That's so sweet of you, wanting to check up on poor, pathetic Myrtle." She turned away from him.
"You're not pathetic, Myrtle."
She beamed. "That's so kind of you. No one's ever been this kind to me before. Not even my own parents." Her voice faltered and her lips trembled. Tom could sense more tears coming so he steered the conversation in a different direction.
"I don't even know my parents," he said, taking the advantage of Myrtle turning away. He took a step towards her. "My mother died shortly after giving birth to me and my father left when my mother was pregnant with me."
"Really?" Myrtle face showed a sudden interest as Tom recalled how Myrtle loved to dwell on dramatic and upsetting scenarios.
"Oh yeah," Tom said, taking another tentative step towards her. "I never knew either of them."
"So you're an orphan?"
Tom nodded. "In a better sense of the word, yeah."
Myrtle blushed. "I'm sorry to hear that."
Tom just shrugged. "I never knew my parents so it's hard to say I miss them." He glanced upwards for a very brief second. "What do you say we head back to the classroom? You don't want to miss too much class time."
For a moment, Tom was certain that Myrtle was going to decline, but instead she happily began heading in the direction from which Tom came. Quickly, Tom glanced at the washroom door. He would be back here soon.
"Aww, is poor little Myrtle going to cry? Shed a few tears for us, Myrtle!"
Her face screwed up in an effort not to cry, but she failed. A few lone tears escaped from under her eyelids and were presented to a jeering crowd. They whooped and hollered like there was no tomorrow, causing Myrtle to run from the room.
On the other side of the classroom, Tom Riddle sat in silence. A school prefect, he wasn't sure if he should interfere or not. It was only three weeks into the school term and already things in the Transfiguration class were going downhill. Professor Dumbledore had yet to arrive, leaving Tom to battle with his morals on whether or not he should step in and put a stop to the teasing.
"Did you see the look on her face?" Arnie Manchester laughed. Arnie had been the ringleader of Myrtle's teasing crowd and looked thoroughly pleased with himself. Tom didn't particularly like Arnie. His red hair and freckles gave him somewhat of a ratty look and Tom couldn't stand the way he picked on everyone around him when he, himself, was no better.
"Alright, everyone, please take your seats." Professor Dumbledore entered the room with an air of confidence, as always. He swept to the front of the classroom and set his books down on his desk. He showed no signs of understanding what happened in the class a few moments prior, but he motioned for Tom to join him at his desk while the other students got settled.
"Tom, I have a favour to ask," he said, drawing closer to Tom's face so that no one else could hear their conversation. "I passed Myrtle in the hallway on my journey here and she seemed upset about something. Could I trouble you to go talk to her and make sure she's okay?"
The last thing Tom wanted to do was seek out freaky Myrtle and talk to her about her feelings, but the pleading in Dumbledore's eyes made him reconsider his original decision.
"Of course, sir," he said, heading for the doorway. "I won't be long."
He followed the sound of Myrtle's wails to the second story girls' lavatory. Inside he could hear Myrtle's sobs and he rapped softly on the door. "Myrtle?"
Myrtle's sobs subsided. "What?" she asked irritably. "What do you want?"
Tom found it against his better judgement to tell her that Professor Dumbledore asked him to look after her, so he made up a little white lie. "I just wanted to come and see if you were okay, or if you wanted to talk about what happened."
An emotional outburst brought Myrtle to the door of the washroom. She flew out in such a rage that Tom had to back himself up against the opposite wall to avoid being hit by her fury. "You wanted to see how I was?" she snarled. "Are you sure? You didn't come to taunt me? About my hair, my clothes, my glasses? Are you absolutely positive?"
"Of course," Tom said enthusiastically, his back still pressed against the wall. "I just wanted to make sure you were all right."
Myrtle suddenly blushed a deep crimson. "I'm so sorry," she said, her face screwing up in embarrassment. "I'm so very sorry. That's so sweet of you, wanting to check up on poor, pathetic Myrtle." She turned away from him.
"You're not pathetic, Myrtle."
She beamed. "That's so kind of you. No one's ever been this kind to me before. Not even my own parents." Her voice faltered and her lips trembled. Tom could sense more tears coming so he steered the conversation in a different direction.
"I don't even know my parents," he said, taking the advantage of Myrtle turning away. He took a step towards her. "My mother died shortly after giving birth to me and my father left when my mother was pregnant with me."
"Really?" Myrtle face showed a sudden interest as Tom recalled how Myrtle loved to dwell on dramatic and upsetting scenarios.
"Oh yeah," Tom said, taking another tentative step towards her. "I never knew either of them."
"So you're an orphan?"
Tom nodded. "In a better sense of the word, yeah."
Myrtle blushed. "I'm sorry to hear that."
Tom just shrugged. "I never knew my parents so it's hard to say I miss them." He glanced upwards for a very brief second. "What do you say we head back to the classroom? You don't want to miss too much class time."
For a moment, Tom was certain that Myrtle was going to decline, but instead she happily began heading in the direction from which Tom came. Quickly, Tom glanced at the washroom door. He would be back here soon.