Chapter 322 — Alexander's Miserable Life
It was a feeling Alexander knew all too well.
Familiar—yet deeply repulsive.
The moment that sensation crept into the upper-right corner of his perception, his scalp prickled. Just as he was about to look up, his gaze slid past Ginny Weasley, who sat opposite him at the table, eating while staring at him far too intently.
Only then did Alexander realize why the discomfort felt so familiar.
It was the exact same look Ginny had given him when she had first begun secretly observing him at the Burrow.
"Alexander, don't frown," Ron whispered urgently beside him. "Moaning Myrtle is here!"
Before Alexander could even process the warning, a translucent figure drifted into view.
A ghost.
She must have been sitting at the Ravenclaw table just moments ago, because Alexander distinctly remembered seeing her enthusiastically "eating" with the others. Among all the ghosts at Hogwarts, she was easily the most aggressive participant during feasts.
For a moment, Alexander completely forgot to breathe.
But… she was Myrtle?
Then why was she called Moaning Myrtle?
Ghosts weren't supposed to cry. Their tears were merely condensed droplets formed from lingering magic and subconscious obsession—not genuine emotion.
And yet, it was obvious at a glance that whatever shimmered at the corner of her eyes was anything but ordinary.
"Are you Alexander Smith?"
Myrtle blinked at him from behind thick, round glasses.
She didn't understand it herself—why her heart raced so fast just by looking at him.
Myrtle had a secret. One no one knew.
She often sneaked into the prefects' bathroom.
First, because prefects tended to be good-looking.
Second, because ghosts couldn't enter student dormitories freely. Unless someone possessed special privileges—like Lady Grey—Myrtle had no way of peeking at handsome young wizards who weren't prefects.
And yet, Alexander Smith wasn't particularly handsome by her usual standards.
So why was she so affected?
Was it because he wore glasses like her?
Or was it the legend spreading among ghosts—that Alexander Smith had driven away Peeves, unearthed ancient secrets, and even challenged forces once thought untouchable?
After all, Lady Grey herself had given him the Ravenclaw diadem.
As a Ravenclaw ghost, Myrtle understood the significance of the crown.
If Lady Grey was willing to hand over the tiara, then surely—surely—something extraordinary bound them together.
From Alexander's perspective, however, things were spiraling rapidly out of control.
After greeting him with an expression soaked in melancholy, the female ghost suddenly clenched her fists, grinding her teeth for no discernible reason.
"Who… are you?" Alexander asked carefully.
Ron had warned him about this ghost.
There was definitely something wrong with her.
"My name is… Gold Digger."
"You can call me that."
The pearly white of Myrtle's cheeks darkened slightly—a blush, if she had still been human.
She's blushing like a boiling kettle, Alexander realized in shock.
He finally understood.
The ghost before him… was exactly like Ginny at the beginning.
"Are you looking for me?" Alexander asked, his green eyes wide and innocent, as if he had noticed absolutely nothing.
"I—I just wanted to meet… the hero who saved the wizarding world!" Myrtle exclaimed. "My hero!"
She emphasized the last word so strongly that her entire form trembled.
After blurting out such shameful words, she collapsed dramatically into the floor and vanished.
"Alexander—" Ron began.
But Myrtle's head suddenly popped back up through the stone floor.
"Alexander Smith, why are you wearing so many layers in this weather?" she gasped, peeking beneath his robes. "Oh no—how improper of me!"
Despite her words, her expression was one of deep resentment.
When she noticed Ron staring, she snorted and vanished again.
"Merlin's beard!"
Alexander clamped his legs together instinctively.
In that instant, the future lost all its color.
When summer arrived, he would no longer be able to relax beneath his robes like a normal wizard—
Because Myrtle would pop out of the ground at any moment.
"How can there be such a shameless female ghost?" Ginny muttered jealously.
Alexander didn't have time to process that.
"Wait—can Myrtle enter our dormitory?" he asked in horror. "What if she shows up while we're showering?"
"Don't worry," Nearly Headless Nick said gently. "Ghosts cannot enter common rooms or dormitories without permission."
"Lady Grey can," he added, "because she is Ravenclaw's daughter."
Alexander exhaled in relief. "Thank you, Sir Nicholas."
Nick straightened proudly—Sir was his favorite title.
"But Ron," Alexander asked uneasily, "who exactly is Myrtle?"
Ron sighed deeply.
"She's a Ravenclaw ghost who haunts the third-floor girls' bathroom. That's why it's been out of order for years."
"She screams, cries, floods the place—absolute nightmare."
"So everyone calls her Moaning Myrtle."
"Yes," Nick added. "She's extremely withdrawn. I'm surprised she even attended the feast."
"Girls' bathroom?"
"As long as you use the toilet?"
Alexander and Ginny instantly found the loophole.
"Don't misunderstand!" Ron shouted.
"I did it all for Ginny!"
"You remember why I told you to avoid the second-floor bathroom, right?"
"This is all Myrtle's fault!"
"I was just being a responsible brother!"
Ginny stuck out her tongue innocently.
"But why can she cry?" Alexander asked curiously.
Ron shrugged. "No idea. Maybe she just likes yelling."
Nick smiled faintly.
"When ghosts die, we often bind ourselves to a trait, an obsession, or a state of being."
"My head, the Bloody Baron's chains… Myrtle's tears."
"They're real."
Chapter 323 — New Team Members
The ghostly feast was a resounding success.
For everyone except Alexander Smith.
In the days that followed, Myrtle appeared everywhere.
From the ground.
From corners.
From ceilings.
Every time Alexander noticed her, she vanished with a bell-like laugh.
The only thing that saved his sanity was the fact that she truly couldn't enter the Ravenclaw Tower.
So Alexander resumed his habit of remaining in the common room whenever possible.
With Arthur Weasley's recent promotion and the diadem incident still echoing through the school, no one questioned his absence.
Ron grumbled occasionally—but never seriously.
Still, Alexander couldn't hide forever.
Quidditch awaited.
As Ravenclaw's captain, even though Roger handled recruitment, Alexander still oversaw training and final selections.
After dinner, he left the tower and headed toward the pitch.
"You should talk to Nick," Ron suggested. "Myrtle's still a ghost."
"I will," Alexander said absently. "But right now, I'm more worried about Draco."
"I barely see him anymore."
Ron snorted. "He's probably busy with Pansy. They're getting engaged."
"And thanks to you," Ron added bitterly, "everyone ignores me now."
Seven out of ten students greeted Alexander.
Ron might as well have been invisible.
They reached the stadium.
"Strange," Ron muttered. "Shouldn't more people be here?"
"Our team's special," Alexander replied. "Most positions were already filled last year."
"If not for the chance of a prodigy," he added lightly, "we'd have finalized everything before term started."
Roger Davis landed nearby.
"They're ready," he said. "But there are some changes."
"Henry switched to Beater."
Alexander frowned. "Who replaced him?"
"I did."
A clear voice answered.
Cho Chang stepped forward.
Alexander smiled calmly. No fluster. No embarrassment.
"Yes," he said. "I remember you."
Roger finally relaxed.
Ravenclaw's future was secure.
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