Myrtle8a

“How are we getting home?” Myrtle inquired in a drowsy voice.

“I’ve set up a Port Key in the mountains around Hogsmeade. It will take us to the woods near home.” Harry spoke in slow, sharp tones, obviously still upset by his argument with Sirius.

In a very secluded cave, Harry and Myrtle came to an old newspaper on the ground. Simultaneously, they picked up the newspaper and they felt a sharp tug behind their navels. In an instant, Myrtle was surround by the woods that she knew all too well. Stepping out of the dense trees and into the lighter rim of the forest, a cold wave swept over them.

Out of nowhere, a Polterghoul appeared. A polterghoul is like its name says, a cross between a ghoul and a poltergeist. It is crazy, like a poltergeist, but it still feels the need to haunt confined places like ghouls do. This particular Polterghoul haunted the Potter residence. Her name was Vanessa the Undresser. Black hair adorned her head; she wore purple, fluffy slippers on her feet, pants made out of fur, a button up shirt covered in lady beetles with a spinning, orange bow tie at the top and a lemon yellow top hat. She was rumoured to come from Bubbleville and she blew bubbles out of her ears every time someone made her cross.

“Well here I find Rotty, Snotty, Potty! She came second to the first and took what the first could not see. She came in before the first and stole from Hermione. A scheme is hatched; a war is waged, all to get poor, old Potter enraged. Guess what I am saying you cannot, to save the third from danger means to everyone a lot.”

The other rather strange thing about Vanessa the Undresser was her crazy habit to speak in riddles. It made deciphering what she said a strange and arduous task.

“Vanessa,” said Harry, his voice growing impatient. “What are you saying? What is going on?”

“Confusing may my riddles be. But what I say, you did not see. A thief she lives amongst us all. She’s here to make her father fall.”

“Vanessa, does this have anything to do with Elli?” interrupted Myrtle. Harry looked at her in shock.

“Second came she to the first. Her intentions could be considered the worst. If you believe she is the thief. Then go back home to solve your grief.”

“Myrtle, what are you insinuating? Are you saying that this has something to do with your dream?”

“Yes Dad! Prove me wrong if you have to, but let’s just go home.”

Harry and Myrtle set out at a blinding pace. They tore down the streets the concrete pounding under their feet. When at last they came to their home, they raced inside only to find Hermione curled up in an armchair, tears streaming down her face.

“Hermione…”

“Harry! Myrtle! They, she, they took my, our baby. He’s gone and there wasn’t a thing I could do.” Harry stared, shocked at the revelations. “And now, I can’t find Elli. I left her to look after the twins while I had a minutes rest and I woke up to find them gone and Remus screaming in his bassinet. Why Harry?”

“Well I guess Sirius was right. Voldemort’s back and he has taken our baby. We’ll just have to get him back.”

“What about Elli? He’s taken her too, can’t you think about that?”

“No, Mum, Elli did this on her own free will. She’s the one who stole Sirius I can feel it. We just have to get her for it.” Replied Myrtle, a vengeful tone penetrating her usual passive voice.

All three stared at each other, the silence then broken by a knock at the door.