Myrtle popped out of the pipes in the Prefect's bathroom, smelling strongly like bubble baths and lake water, and trickled a trail of stanky water all the way to the Spirit Room. She wasn't sure where the Dead Poet Society Poets Competing For Myrtle's Heart poetry reading was taking place, but she needed a good cry before going anywhere else.

Whoever had hired that stupid, old-fart annoying defense professor needed to be fired. And so did he.

*sniff sniffle snifffff*