It hadn't been hard to speak to Myrtle, although Blake found it particularly bothersome to have to sneak out at night.
But still, good Disillusionment and Muffliato charms work wonders for this type of stuff, he thought.
"Oh, Blake, it's you again," Myrtle, who he'd come to know was referred to as Moaning Myrtle, said.
Blake had been visiting her every once in a while, offering her company. He had wanted to immediately ask her about the circumstances in which she'd died, but after 5 seconds of conversation with the ghost, he'd realised that was an impossibility.
That's why he had been forced to sacrifice 3 nights - about to be 4 - of perfectly good sleep to talk to the ghost girl in order to build up a good enough relationship that he could ask such a question, or she would reveal it herself.
And as luck would have it - tonight was that night.
"Oh, it was so terrible!" Myrtle suddenly blurted while Blake was telling her about the coming of McDonalds to England.
"What was, Myrtle?" Blake asked in as much of a concerned tone as he could muster without sounding fake. Inwardly, though, he celebrated. This is it!
The girl whimpered.
"It was on this day of the month that I died, Blakey!"
Don't call me that, Blake thought, biting his tongue to prevent himself from speaking. It didn't sound right coming from anyone apart from his dad or brother.
"I'm sorry, Myrtle. If you want to talk about it, you know I'm always here."
The girl passed a ghostly hand through his hand, seeming to think it was a sign of affection. Blake managed to withhold any sudden movements, but he was thoroughly creeped out.
"You're so sweet, Blakey. But deathdays are to celebrate, not to speak of sad things!" she said, suddenly cheerful, and she started to set up a game of hopscotch, right there in the girls' bathroom. Blake almost let out a sigh. Just my luck.
/
"Did you hear?" Tracey said urgently.
"A student got petrified." Blake froze mid-bite of honey-roasted ham.
"Who?" Zabini asked.
"Colin Creevey."
Blake's heart sank. He's one of Connor's friends, isn't he? Muggleborn too.
"Are you sure, Tracey?" Blake asked, hiding the worry in his voice.
"Of course I'm sure," she said, offended. "Has my information ever been wrong?"
No, it hasn't. That's one hundred percent the reason you're in Slytherin, isn't it Tracey? I don't know how the hell you always get information so quickly.
"Apparently, he was on his way to see Potter after the Quidditch match, the one you missed, Blake."
Wasting more time for Myrtle, Blake groaned in his head. Harry had apparently been injured in the Quidditch match. Blake would've found it suspicious but Zabini reported that it was due to Lockhart's incompetence, which Blake readily accepted. Lockhart was undoubtedly useless, after all.
"Wait - so that means the cat's not dead either, right?" Zabini asked. "It's just petrified."
"Most likely, yes," Greengrass confirmed. "Madame Pomfrey will be able to heal them both soon with Mandrakes. It will take a while, though."
Blake sighed.
"That's a good thing, I suppose."
"It could be worse though," Zabini said ominously. "Last time, someone died."
Tracey slapped his arm, glaring at him. "Blaise!"
"What?" he said, annoyed.
"You're trying to scare him!"
"No, I'm trying to warn him!"
"He already knows, he's smarter than us!"
"Who said 'us'? Speak for yourself!"
The pair argued, and Blake shook his head with a small smile. Petrification, huh? Monsters that can petrify and kill… surely there's not many of those. But if they can kill, why bother petrifying? Surely a monster with instructions from Slytherin or Voldemort himself would go straight for the kill?
If I get more information, this will all become clearer. It's time to be more direct with Myrtle, I reckon.
But first…
"You doing alright?" Blake asked Connor gently. The younger Renshaw put on a brave face, but Blake could tell something was on his mind.
"Oi. Remember our deal?"
6 years ago…
"Listen, Connor," Blake said. The funeral had just ended. Both of them had cried out all the tears they'd had, and now they sat alone in their room, while their mother spoke downstairs with some of their distant relatives. The funeral had been a small one; neither Carol nor James had any siblings, or even any first cousins somehow.
"Yeah?" Connor sniffled.
"Dad made me promise that I would take care of you and Mum after he was gone. And he made you promise to take care of us too, right?"
"Yeah."
"Well, listen, Connor. I want you to take care of us, that's true, but don't worry. You don't have to worry about any of that just yet."
"What d'you mean?"
"I mean that I will take care of you and Mum, and myself too. So neither of you - not you, and not Mum - need to worry about me. That's why I need you to promise me."
"Promise what?"
"No matter what happens in the future, you need to be honest with me. If you're ever in trouble, or you ever need me in any way, no matter how far away I am, or how busy I am, or how weak I am, I'll be there. D'you promise?"
Connor looked up at his older brother with big eyes, not yet dried from the tears he shed at the funeral.
"I promise."
Blake smiled, and ruffled his brother's hair.
"Good."
"And I'll do the same for you too, Blakey."
For the first time, Blake didn't complain at the nickname as his little brother hugged him tightly.
"I know."
Back to the present…
Connor sighed.
"I know, I know. It's just - Colin's a really nice person. He sits next to me in Defence. I know he'll be okay, but still… And it's not just that," he said, sighing again. He sighs a lot, Blake noticed.
"Ginny's been a complete wreck, Blake. Ever since the cat got attacked, and it's so much worse now. She skips lessons sometimes, spends her time hiding away, always writing in her diary. This can't be good for her."
Blake thought of the Weasley girl. She had given shy vibes from before, and recent events certainly couldn't have helped.
"Try and comfort her how you think is best then," Blake suggested. "But sometimes it's best to leave people alone if they need to be."
"Is that your plan with Charlotte?" Connor asked with a small, sad smile. Blake sighed. He's a lot more perceptive than he lets on.
"Something like that," he agreed. "Anyway, you're not worried about being petrified?"
Connor smirked arrogantly, seemingly back to normal after a few seconds of emotional intelligence and seriousness,
"No. Why would I be?"
Blake rolled his eyes.
"Be careful, Connor."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, turning around. "But I've got nothing to be afraid of, and neither have you."
As he started to walk away, Blake asked him a final question.
"And why's that?"
"Remember our deal?" Connor repeated what Blake had said moments ago mockingly, before turning his head with a smile.
"Don't worry, Blakey. As long as you're around, petrified or not, I have nothing to fear."
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