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"
Do
n't
ask
me
,
"
Myrtle
shouted
,
emerging
with
a
wave
of
yet
more
water
,
which
splashed
onto
the
already
sopping
floor
.
"
Here
I
am
,
minding
my
own
business
,
and
someone
thinks
it
's
funny
to
throw
a
book
at
me
...
"
"
But
it
ca
n't
hurt
you
if
someone
throws
something
at
you
,
"
said
Harry
,
reasonably
.
"
I
mean
,
it
'd
just
go
right
through
you
,
would
n't
it
?
"
He
had
said
the
wrong
thing
.
Myrtle
puffed
herself
up
and
shrieked
,
"
Let
's
all
throw
books
at
Myrtle
,
because
she
ca
n't
feel
it
!
Ten
points
if
you
can
get
it
through
her
stomach
!
Fifty
points
if
it
goes
through
her
head
!
Well
,
ha
,
ha
,
ha
!
What
a
lovely
game
,
I
do
n't
think
!
"
"
Who
threw
it
at
you
,
anyway
?
"
asked
Harry
.
"
I
do
n't
know
...
I
was
just
sitting
in
the
U-bend
,
thinking
about
death
,
and
it
fell
right
through
the
top
of
my
head
,
"
said
Myrtle
,
glaring
at
them
.
"
It
's
over
there
,
it
got
washed
out
...
"
Harry
and
Ron
looked
under
the
sink
where
Myrtle
was
pointing
.
A
small
,
thin
book
lay
there
.
It
had
a
shabby
black
cover
and
was
as
wet
as
everything
else
in
the
bathroom
.
Harry
stepped
forward
to
pick
it
up
,
but
Ron
suddenly
flung
out
an
arm
to
hold
him
back
.
"
What
?
"
said
Harry
.
"
Are
you
crazy
?
"
said
Ron
.
"
It
could
be
dangerous
.
"
"
Dangerous
?
"
said
Harry
,
laughing
.
"
Come
off
it
,
how
could
it
be
dangerous
?
"
