"Hmm... Myrtle, thank you for telling me all of this, it's very helpful." Snape felt a twinge of regret,if only her gift for languages were as good as Ron's.
Still, he was quite satisfied with what he had gained from this trip. Even if he had to ask Dumbledore to act as a "doorman" later, at least now he had a proper excuse.
"Will you come back to my bathroom to see me again?" Myrtle said sorrowfully as she saw Snape heading for the door. "This is the first time anyone's spoken to me so much."
"We will meet again," Snape said. He certainly would be back here,so that didn't count as lying.
"Goodbye, then." Myrtle said wistfully.
Snape grasped the handle and pulled the bathroom door open a narrow crack.
Just as he was about to peer into the corridor to check whether anyone was there, the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end. A powerful sense of danger surged toward him.
Without time to think, he rolled hard to the side, ignoring the filth and stagnant water on the floor.
At the instant he rolled away-Bang! The door burst open with a crash, and a searing red streak of light shot through the air.
The spell smashed into the already cracked mirror. With a shattering crash, fragments scattered across the floor.
"Ahhh-!" A shrill female cry echoed out. Myrtle plastered herself against the wall in terror, her eyes bulging wide.
"Murder! There's murder in the bathroom! Murder!"
"Stupefy!"
A gust of air swept inside, flinging more spells.
One curse went slightly wide, blasting apart the toilet behind Snape. A geyser of water sprayed out, flooding the floor.
It was James Potter's voice!
But Snape saw no one,James must be wearing that Invisibility Cloak!
Snape twisted, flipped up from the ground, darted behind the sinks, and whipped out his wand to counterattack.
"Sectum, Diffindo!"
With a loud crack, the iron bracket of a nearby candle sconce warped instantly and toppled to the floor.
The candle stubs rolled into the spreading water, and with a faint hiss, their flames sputtered out.
The bathroom fell into darkness.
Spells hissed wildly through the air.
"Stop it! Stop it!" Moaning Myrtle shrieked, her voice echoing in the pitch-black bathroom. "My bathroom! Stop! Don't fight in here!"
"Petrificus Totalus!" Snape slashed his wand furiously.
Suddenly, the barrage of spells aimed at him ceased. A moment later, he heard something collapse with a splash into the water.
"Lumos."
By the light of his wand, Snape groped across the floor.
At last, his hand brushed against a raised, invisible lump.
He yanked off a transparent cloak from James's body and revealed that hated face.
James lay flat on his back in the flooded floor, mouth hanging open, completely immobilized.
Snape kicked James's wand away and bent over him, scrutinizing him closely.
"Potter, how dare you come looking for me alone?"
"How should I reward your courage?" he muttered, staring straight into James's eyes. "Let me guess,how did you know I was here?"
"And earlier, how did you know Lily and I were together in Slughorn's office..." Snape placed heavy emphasis on Lily's name.
He reached into James's robes, searching through his pockets.
"What's this little treasure?"
Snape held a blank sheet of parchment, creased only slightly, and studied it with amusement.
"Mr. Potter, why would you carry around a blank piece of parchment?"
He walked to an intact toilet, pressed the flush handle to drown out the sound, so James would not overhear what came next.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." With a tap of his wand upon the parchment, he whispered.
A tiny black dot appeared, moving steadily toward Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
"Mischief managed." Snape tapped the parchment again with his wand. Instantly, the surface returned to blank white.
"Well then, time is almost up." He slipped the parchment into his robes and turned toward Myrtle. "Myrtle, we're friends, aren't we?"
Myrtle was still hiding in the corner, sniffling softly.
At his words, she lifted her head in shock, her face filled with disbelief. "Ah... you would be willing to be my friend?"
"Why not?" Snape said.
At that moment, the door behind him burst open: Professor McGonagall stormed inside, wand at the ready.
She wore a plaid dressing gown and a hairnet, her expression stern.
"Snape, what are you doing here in the middle of the night?"
Then she caught sight of James lying on the ground. "Potter! What on earth is this?!"
"Professor, I was talking with Myrtle here, when Potter suddenly ambushed me-"
"Yes, I can testify!" Myrtle flipped joyfully in the air. "Severus and I were having a gathering, and he barged in and wrecked my bathroom! Professor McGonagall, just look at this mess!"
"Silence," Professor McGonagall snapped, undoing the Body-Bind Curse on James. "And you too, Potter. Quiet."
"Wandering the castle at midnight, casting spells on each other!" Her lips went white, her voice icy with anger. "You will both come with me to see the Headmaster!"
They followed her in silence down moonlit corridors.
Reaching the eighth floor, they turned a corner, and McGonagall halted before an enormous, hideous stone gargoyle.
This was already Snape's second time here this year. The last time, James had been there too, along with a pale-faced Remus Lupin.
"Lemon sherbet," McGonagall said.
The gargoyle suddenly sprang aside. The wall behind it split open, revealing a moving spiral staircase, slowly rising like an escalator.
The three of them stepped through the gap in the wall. As soon as their feet touched the stone steps, there was a rumble behind them as the wall sealed itself shut.
The staircase rotated upward, spiraling higher and higher, until at last they arrived before a gleaming oak door, fitted with a brass knocker shaped like a griffin.
Although it was nearly midnight, voices drifted from inside, noisy and bustling, as if Dumbledore were entertaining at least a dozen guests.
Professor McGonagall rapped the griffin knocker three times. Instantly, the voices cut off, as though switched off.
The door swung open of its own accord, and she led Snape and James inside.
It was a spacious, beautiful circular room, filled with all sorts of whimsical sounds.
The chamber was half-lit, half-shadow, with odd silver instruments on tables whirring and puffing out little jets of smoke.
The portraits of past headmasters along the walls all dozed in their frames, chests rising and falling in gentle snores.
Behind the door, perched on its stand, was a magnificent bird the size of a swan, its feathers crimson and gold. It shifted its long tail feathers and blinked at them kindly.