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I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good
June 6, 2024
I was eleven years and a first-year,
Wide-eyed and wandering Hogwarts’ halls.
It was midnight when a voice cried near here,
From one of the second-floor bathrooms’ stalls.
Alas, it was Moaning Myrtle — a ghost!
Still, her haunting groans shook me to my core;
Still, just Peeves’ mischievous mischief at most.
Then six feet shuffled in and opened the door.
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