CHARLOTTE LOUISE
AND THE MINTUMBLE CURSE
"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little
voice at the end of the day that says I'll try again tomorrow."
― Mary Anne Radmacher
ACT I — THE LOOP
Chapter One: The Yule Ball
It was December 24th, 1994, and a mild crisis was unfolding in the Hufflepuff sixth year girls' dormitory as the weight of the next night's Yule Ball loomed on the horizon.
Charlotte Mintumble thought it was all a bit over the top, really, and she couldn't help but wonder where all the panic and theatrics had sprung up from; her dorm mates were usually quite easy and relaxing to be around. And sure Amanda occasionally, maybe, threw a hex or two if anyone woke her up at a time she deemed too early, but she wasn't normally so… high strung.
Or, well, she was — just not to the extent that she was on the night before the Yule Ball.
"You can't seriously be going stag," the girl gasped, looking scandalized.
She had flopped over on her four-poster and was staring at Charlotte upside down, with her forgotten copy of Witch Weekly held aloft above her head. Charlotte, for her part, only snorted and shook her head as she folded a jumper over the edge of her desk chair.
"I don't know why you're surprised," Diana piped up from her own bed, rolling her eyes. "She's said all along that she was going stag, you numpty."
"I didn't think she really meant it!" Amanda exclaimed.
"I don't think Charlotte has said a single word she didn't mean, ever, in her entire life," Diana said absently, flipping to the next page of her novel.
"Why is it such a big deal?" Charlotte laughed.
Amanda made an indignant sound and sat up in a flurry of swinging ink-dark hair, flinging her magazine out of her hand blindly, oblivious to the way Diana shrieked as she was forced to dodge the sudden projectile headed her way.
"It's a big deal because you are nice and you are fit and you should be having fun," Amanda declared, hands on her hips.
Laughter burst from Charlotte's lips again.
"No one said I wouldn't have any fun," she retorted, then made a face of mock accusation at her friend. "Or are you saying a witch can't have a good time without a bloke involved?"
"Absolutely not," Amanda said, scowling fiercely, her voice ringing of deep offense. "That's not what I meant and you know it, Charlotte Louise, I only—"
"You know she's too busy mooning over Cedric to be happy going with anyone else," Diana cut in, interrupting the tirade before it could get into full swing.
Blokes and the necessity, or lack thereof, of having them around was a topic that Amanda could — and historically, had — ranted about for days on end. Both of her dorm mates agreed with her, but neither wanted to relive the experience; Charlotte maintained to that day that her eardrums had never quite recovered.
"Oh for Merlin's sake," Amanda groaned, flopping backwards on her bed dramatically. "That boy is an absolute dunderhead if he still hasn't opened his eyes and seen what's right in front of him!"
"Oh I think he's seen it, he just hasn't worked up the courage to go for it yet," Diana said, smirking.
"I'm going to hex him," Amanda declared; her hands were held up in the air in exasperation. "I am going to hex him the next time I see him. If he's not down on his knees professing his love, I'm going to—"
"You absolutely will not," Charlotte threatened. "You'll keep your nose out of it if you know what's good for you. It's my business and his, and nobody else's."
"Ugh," Amanda groaned, flopping one arm over her eyes to block the light out. "You're killing me, Charlotte. Like... actually, truly killing me. Every day that passes you two are draining my life force, it's sickening to watch."
"You say you're dying every single time we go to Potions, and yet… here you still are," Charlotte retorted.
"HEY—" the other girl sat up, jabbing a finger into the air aggressively. "The Potions classroom is a toxic environment and a year gets shaved off my lifespan for every hour that I spend around Snape and I would testify that before the Wizengamot itself!"
"I actually agree with that one," Diana offered, wincing.
If there was one thing that united the students of Hogwarts, it was a hatred for Potions class; with the exception, of course, of Professor Snape's favorites, who all happened to wear green ties. The sixth year Hufflepuff girls certainly shared that popular sentiment, and so Charlotte found herself wincing in agreement, and their dorm grew quiet as they each settled beneath the blankets of their four-posters.
Then, just as Diana was reaching to kill the light, the silence was broken.
"Okay but still—" Amanda exclaimed, sitting upright again suddenly.
Diana groaned loudly and mashed her finger on the lamp's off switch with far more force than was strictly necessary. The dorm was cloaked in darkness, but it did nothing to dampen the volume of the girl in the leftmost bed.
"You could still go with someone to the ball, Charlotte, it's not like it's a lifelong commitment! It's just one silly date!"
"'Manda—"
"There's this 'Claw I could set you up with, he's a great kisser—"
"Amanda," Charlotte interrupted loudly. "If I wanted a date, I could have gotten one. There's only one person I wanted to go with, and he was already spoken for. I don't want to go with someone I'm not actually into."
An aggrieved sigh rang out from her left.
"At least promise me you'll do something fun tomorrow night? You, Charlotte Louise, are entirely too sensible. It is beyond time for you to do something spontaneous."
In the dark, Charlotte's nose wrinkled. She and spontaneity didn't exactly get along.
"Amanda—"
"Promise me and I'll shut up about it. Do something you've never done before! Even if it's something stupid, like, I don't know… wearing your shoes on the wrong feet or something."
"Shoes on the wrong feet?" Diana's voice exclaimed from across the room. "Are you demented?"
Charlotte bit her lip, struggling to contain a hysterical burst of laughter at the incredulous tone of her typically unflappable friend's voice.
"I'll do something completely new, I promise," she promised, before the inevitable argument could boil up between the other two girls. "But I can promise you right now I am not wearing my shoes on the wrong feet. Di's right, that's just demented."
"I'll take it," Amanda chirped instantly. "I'm going to hold you to that, by the way."
"When have I ever broken a promise? Ye of little faith," Charlotte scoffed.
"Little faith in your ability to cut loose? Yeah," the other girl muttered.
The dorm room was silent again then, and Charlotte was on the very cusp of sleep, when a voice rang out loudly once more, causing her to flinch in place.
"WAIT," Amanda exclaimed suddenly, as if in realization. "Does that mean you actually asked Cedric to the ball before you knew he was going with Chang? Charlotte? Charlotte!"
The witch in question said nothing, determined to feign sleep until the subject was dropped.
"Amanda," said a dangerous voice from across the dorm. "If you don't stuff a sock in it in the next ten seconds, I'm going to put hair removing potion in your shampoo when you least expect it."
"You wouldn't dare," Amanda exclaimed, horrified.
"Want to bet?" Diana's disembodied voice growled; and Charlotte had to bite down hard on her lip at the indignant noise the other girl made.
Genuine or not, the threat was successful, and the sixth years finally, finally settled down and drifted off into sleep one by one.
When dawn broke over Hogwarts the next morning, there was a simmering tension in the air all throughout the castle that, for once, had nothing to do with inter-house competition or rivalries. All of the students, even the youngest ones who were not allowed to attend the ball, were impatiently awaiting that evening's festivities.
It was good, then, that the Triwizard Tournament's Yule Ball happened to fall on Christmas Day. If it didn't, Amanda would have been even more wound up and Charlotte thought she might have become a witness to her murder at Diana's hands. As it was, the distraction of gift giving was enough to keep the peace; the dark-haired witch was too easily swayed by shiny parcels to focus on worrying over shiny dresses… for a little while, at least.
"Happy Christmas, Charlotte," said a voice, and she opened her eyes just in time to see Diana's grinning face, wreathed in sleep-mussed blonde hair. Then a parcel collided with her face, and she flailed in her bed, yelping on instinct.
Laughter rang out in the dorm.
"Good morning to you too," she griped.
"Wow," Amanda chirped from her bed, where she was happily unwrapping a parcel in the distinct, brilliant Hufflepuff yellow paper that always meant it had come from either her parents or her grandfather. "I haven't seen you move that fast since Peeves tried to dung bomb you in second year. You gearing up for Quidditch trials next year, Lottie?"
"I would genuinely rather die," Charlotte answered, completely deadpan, which earned a second bout of laughter from the other girls.
"Well Happy Christmas to you," Amanda sniggered.
She tossed a soft package at Charlotte's face with perfectly precise aim — because truly, if anyone should have tried out for Quidditch that wasn't already playing it, it was Amanda — and the sixth year dorm erupted into a threeway battle of both pillows and presents being tossed around at each other.
By the time the paper shreds and the stray feathers had settled, Charlotte had a tiny pile of Christmas gifts on her four poster: an assortment of candies from the sixth year Hufflepuff boys as well as some of her study buddies from other houses, a lovely embossed journal from Cedric, several fascinating looking books from her parents, a new quill and ink set from Amanda which boasted of being unspillable, and a pair of very sensible winter gloves nestled into the assortment of small Muggle cosmetics Diana always gifted to the other girls ever since she'd discovered how fascinated they were with makeup that wasn't spelled in some way or another. ("But how does it stay on without magic?" Charlotte remembered asking when they had been younger. Diana had made such a completely baffled expression when she'd answered: "You mean wizarding makeup is all spelled? Well that's just cheating!")
The girls had all slept right through breakfast, and they whittled the rest of the morning away playing games and harassing each other in the good-natured way that only close friends could get away with. When lunch time rolled around, Charlotte and Diana consolidated their might and forced their friend to stop fussing over her shoes, which were already as polished and shiny as they could ever possibly get, and leave the dorm just long enough to grab food and then make a mad scramble back to the dormitory.
Tapping the password rhythm on the barrels outside Hufflepuff common room turned into a group effort since none of the three had free hands, and as Charlotte used her chin to balance a plate full of sandwiches, she wondered idly how on Earth a school dance could take as many hours to prepare for as Amanda was demanding. It could be her actual wedding day and Charlotte still wouldn't want to get as invested as the other girl was for this event.
It did make her happy, though — even with the other two quietly reading their books, Amanda was content to scurry around the dorm, humming under her breath as she fiddled with small details on somebody's clothing for the ball, interrupted only by the periodic freak-out over an incredibly minor detail which was then answered with Diana threatening to hex her if she didn't get a grip already.
By the time there were two hours left until the ball, the more relaxed pair of Hufflepuffs had given up on trying to focus on their reading and were now sat side by side on Amanda's four poster, watching the girl furiously running her wand over her dress to remove whatever nonexistent specks of dust she had convinced herself she saw.
"She should be a wedding planner after Hogwarts," Diana said; her head was resting on Charlotte's shoulder as they reclined together against the wall behind the head of the bed.
"No. Prison warden. The dementors would flee at just the sight of her," she corrected, and the blonde broke into giggles.
"You know I can hear you right?" Amanda called. "You should shut it if you still want me to do all the… what was it you called them? The pretty witch spells?"
She pinned unimpressed brown eyes on them.
"Can't recall having ever called them that. Can you, Di?"
"I would never," Diana said very seriously.
"You're both useless," Amanda fired back. "Get dressed already, for Merlin's sake!"
An hour later, each witch was — somehow, miraculously — fully dressed in their fancy dress robes, hair poked and prodded to the extent that each of them could tolerate… which meant, of course, that Amanda was sporting a very elaborate updo while the other two simply had curls hanging loosely around their heads, as well as the simple braid circling behind Diana's head which she had allowed to be placed.
"You're wearing that necklace tonight?" Diana asked, curious.
Charlotte's eyes darted down, spying the thin gold chain upon which the necklace in question rested at her throat. It matched her gold dress perfectly, but she would have worn it even if it clashed.
Never take off your necklace. Her parents were very clear about the matter, and so she had learned to respect the strange rule early on. Charlotte had never been one to toe a line just for the hell of it, and after so many years it felt like pulling the chain over her head would be like cutting off a body part. The little gold chain and the charm that hung from it were a part of her.
"You know I never take it off," she answered.
The ball was almost upon them, and they were due to leave the dorm at any minute, per Amanda's strictly kept schedule.
"If you don't hold still I'm going to jab your eye out," the dark-haired girl said through gritted teeth.
She held a thin black tube in her fingers, and was staring with a frightening intensity at Charlotte's lash line as she attempted to trace a line along it.
"Is that a threat or a warning?" Charlotte said, desperately trying not to laugh.
"That depends entirely on you," Amanda muttered, scowling.
It was a near miss, but they made it out of the Hufflepuff common room without any violence, smudged makeup, or jabbed eyes. They passed no one on the way to the Great Hall, seeming to be the very first arrivals of the night, or at least the first from their own house, which was not out of the ordinary for the trio. None of them enjoyed being late to anything, ever, and the Yule Ball was no exception.
At the entry to the hall, they were stopped by their head of house, Professor Sprout, who took one look at them and began to beam.
"Oh, girls, you look lovely," Sprout said, and the three chorused a series of thank yous; the older witch was beloved by nearly everyone in Hufflepuff house save for Zacharias Smith, prat that he was. "Right through this door, do have fun!"
They moved forward, but just as Charlotte's hand rested on the door handle Sprout's voice rang out again and froze all of them in their tracks.
"Miss Chow," she called, suddenly looking more like her usual serious self.
"Professor?" Amanda chimed, smiling sweetly.
"This is supposed to be a fun night… for everyone. I don't want to see you sending any young wizards crying their way out of the Hall," Sprout said sternly.
"I would never," Amanda answered, feigning innocence.
"Mmm," Sprout said, clearly doubtful; she was shaking her head, but the twitching of her lips gave away her mirth. "Madam Puddifoot tells me otherwise, young lady."
Diana ducked her head, trying not to laugh. Douglas Reynolds' disastrous Hogsmeade date with Amanda the previous year had clearly still not been forgotten.
Sprout only rolled her eyes goodnaturedly and then sent them on their way.
"Puddifoot and Sprout gossiping about you? That's incredible," Diana giggled.
"That's horrifying, you mean," Charlotte corrected; she'd sooner throw herself off the Astronomy tower than have her love life be the subject of Hogwarts gossip, especially if there were professors involved in the gossiping.
"I can't help that I'm just that show stopping," Amanda sniffed, and their entry to the hall was quickly derailed by shrieking and bickering when Diana called her obnoxious and threw a jelly bean at her from the bag which had apparently been smuggled inside the hidden pocket of her dress.
As the Hall filled up with students from the other schools, the music began to be drowned out by the dull roar of hundreds of conversations occurring in a varied handful of languages: English, French, and a number of other languages from the varied backgrounds of those who attended Durmstrang.
Several hours later, Charlotte found herself left to her own devices as the midnight conclusion of the ball was approaching rapidly. Diana had been waved over by the Ravenclaw witch she sat beside in Charms, and was now swept up in an animated conversation in a circle of witches comprised of most of the Ravenclaw upper year girls, as well as — interestingly enough — a few Slytherins mixed in.
As the brunette wound her way toward the restroom in search of a break from the music, she let out a loud laugh as she caught sight of Amanda. Her friend had seemingly ditched her date, Cormac MacLaggen, for she was now enthusiastically snogging Daniel Sheridan in the shadow of the first staircase, just barely outside the view of a blissfully ignorant Professor Flitwick. Charlotte was going to have to give her hell for that one later, she decided.
When the witch finally reached her destination, she let out a relieved sigh as the door swung shut behind her and the low roaring of the music in the distance faded even more. While the ball had indeed been fun, she wasn't one for such big social events or such extreme noise, and she'd about had her fill of it all.
The peace of the restroom didn't last long, however, and Charlotte jolted a little as she realized that none other than Beauxbatons' very own champion was at the sink only a few strides away from her, scrubbing furiously at a dark patch marring her silken dress robes.
"Tête de nœud," the bond witch hissed under her breath, and there was such vitriol in her voice that Charlotte couldn't help but giggle on instinct.
Fleur Delacour, in the lavatory in a beautiful gown, muttering insults under her breath about her rude date? It was so far beyond anything Charlotte would ever have expected for the beautiful witch's Yule Ball experience, it was laughable.
The Beauxbatons student startled, then stilled and snapped her gaze up to meet Charlotte's with a look somewhere between surprise, accusation, and relief.
"Tu parles français?" the blonde asked. You speak French?
Charlotte shrugged, then pinched her fingers together in the air before her.
"Un petit peu," she said; a little bit.
Fleur made a humming sound, eyes darting quickly over Charlotte's form in a way that made the girl feel suddenly too warm under the scrutiny, and then she returned to her task of tapping her wand against the stained front of her gown and attempting to siphon what Charlotte assumed must have been a spilled drink out of the fabric.
"Davies lose his cool?" the Hufflepuff girl asked, attempting to be casual as she stepped forward before the mirror to dab at her eyeshadow.
"He is a fool," Fleur said in English, vehement, and Charlotte's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
Whatever the poor bloke had done, he'd clearly landed himself in the dog house with his date.
"He's always been a bit clumsy. Brilliant on the Quidditch field, but get him with both feet on land and it's only a matter of time before disaster strikes. It makes no sense," Charlotte shook her head mournfully.
Fleur didn't respond, seemingly not cheered up by the attempt at humor. The room was quiet for a moment, each girl carrying on with her own business in silence. Charlotte pulled a slim tube out of her bag — a glossy Muggle tint that Diana had gifted her just that morning — and then cut a brief sidelong glance at the French witch. Then she looked away, focusing in the mirror once more as she applied a fresh coat to her lips.
Promise me you'll do something fun tomorrow night, Amanda had pleaded.
Oh what the hell, Charlotte thought.
"Some of us are having our own little party after the ball ends. Just us girls who went stag," she said casually. "Or those who ditched their foolish dates."
She glanced over her shoulder at the other witch, a tiny smirk playing on her lips as she finished the remark, and found Delacour watching her steadily. The French girl looked intrigued, and it made Charlotte feel a rush of boldness that suddenly had her pivoting and stretching a hand out for the other to shake.
"I'm Charlotte," she said, smiling.
Delacour glanced at her hand, at her face, and then— she shook the Hufflepuff's hand delicately, looking somewhat bemused.
"Fleur," the blonde declared, as if anyone in the entire castle didn't already know her name.
"Nice to meet you," Charlotte said. "If you're coming along… if we go ahead and ditch now, we can beat my mates to the best of the firewhiskey."
And so the two girls left side by side, Charlotte in faint disbelief that her invitation had actually been accepted, and their conversation in French grew more confident and relaxed with each moment that passed.
They didn't, in the end, beat Charlotte's friends to their little party; instead they were the last two to arrive, after a brief but enjoyable detour in an alcove hidden behind a portrait in the third floor corridor. And if the gloss on Fleur Delacour's lips was a different shade — and a bit shinier, in fact — than it was before she left the ball, well… there were plenty of other antics going on to distract any curious observers from dwelling on that fact.
AN: Hello and welcome to another episode of "I said I wasn't going to post this yet, but here we are." Some fun teenage antics here, but there is also a big hint at the adventure that's about to kick off. Let me know what you thought!
POSTED: 9/6/2021