I rush into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, falling to my knees in front of the toilet and dry heaving. The lack of breakfast is working against me, my stomach is empty and the only thing that is coming up is acid. Burning it’s way up my throat. I accept it, I deserve the pain. I broke his thrust. How can I make this up to him? Everyone knows he is a very private person, doesn’t share personal information or likes small talk. I just barged my way into his mind, found that memory and I couldn’t leave. Once I set the memory in motion we were both stuck, forced to watch it.