Little Laughs

Charlotte Adelyn Goyle, age 15, strode from the Slytherin Common Room with her pixie-like nose turned up, her head held high, and her glittering blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail near the top of her head. She towered over a group of second years who were crowded around the door. One look to them sent them scattering and a wicked grin curled the girl’s clover-shaped lips. An amused, low, and raspy laugh resonated in her throat as she walked through the Slytherin Dungeons. She was a tour de force when it came to pranks and intimidation, only rivaled by her brother, his friend Crabbe, and Draco Malfoy. However, she always seemed to come out first, especially now that Draco had begun to act so oddly.

“Charlotte,” a first year Slytherin, wide-eyed, out of breath, and completely disheveled, stopped her on the way up the long winding staircases back to the Entrance Hall. “I…I think you should…I think…”

“Spit it out,” the blonde snapped, causing the poor first year to start to shudder on top of being on the brink of an asthma attack.

“You need to go to the second floor girl’s bathrooms. Now,” the first year gasped. Charlotte merely pulled a face and shook her head a bit.

“Why?” She asked, staring skeptically at the first year boy who was now gasping desperately for air.

“Goyle said…Goyle said-”

“My brother said what, stupid?” Charlotte asked, finding her patience very thin at the moment.

“You just need to,” the first year gasped before bolting on down the stairs before Charlotte could interrogate and frighten him even more. Charlotte scoffed as the kid nearly stumbled down the rest of the stairs. She shook her head and flattened her hands over her hair, continuing on her way up the stairs.

“Idiot,” she hissed as she reached the top of the stairs. Charlotte had one of two choices. She could either find her way into the Great Hall and have a delicious breakfast or she could do what she rarely does and listen to her brother. She had to admit, she was very curious as to why he wanted her to go to the second floor girl’s lavatories. No one even went in there, especially with Moaning Myrtle clogging the drains and wailing all the time.

Charlotte, heaving a great sigh, turned and began up the moving staircases, toward the second floor. Her flats slowly padded up the stairs, turning the corner once she was on the second floor. Of course, everyone at Hogwarts knew where the girl’s loo was on the second floor, they merely never used it. And as the statuesque and intimidating blonde girl turned the corner, she was met with a very curious noise. It was reverberating off of the stone corridor and the mullioned windows that lined the hallway as the grey-filtered sun cascaded onto the dusty cobblestone floor. Charlotte slowed as the noise echoed again, deciding that someone had gone into the bathroom and riled her into hysterics. That was, until she heard something much deeper than Myrtle’s voice echoing within the bathroom. Her brow furrowed and she paused for a moment, staring hard at the door.

A moan, belonging to Myrtle, floated around Charlotte, followed by another one of those deeper groans. Charlotte picked up the pace toward the door, recognizing something in the tone of that deeper groan. She nearly flew through the door to the bathroom and turned to look toward the sinks. Her mouth slowly fell open as she gazed upon Moaning Myrtle, straddling none other than Draco Malfoy’s hips as he lay back on the bathroom floor. Both the ghost and the Slytherin boy was looking at her with wide eyes, not expecting the intrusion and especially not from her.

“I can’t explain!” Draco immediately exclaimed, noticing the angry red color that flooded Charlotte’s pale cheeks.

“Can you, Draco?” She asked, raising a brow as she watched the ghost float away from Draco with a rather distraught look on her face and Draco scrambling to his feet.

“She…She came onto me!” He stammered loudly, pointing a finger at Myrtle who let out a scoff and looked over at Draco with an appalled expression. She looked like she was about to burst and Charlotte had to bite back bitter laughter at the joy of finding the dead girl so irate.

“Oh, go on, blame the one that’s ALREADY DEAD!” Myrtle yelled and Charlotte drew in a deep breath of air, swallowing back the lump of hysterical, and slightly maniacal laughter in the back of her throat.

“Before any one of you two decide to get into an arguing match, I’d like to make two things clear. One: now I really do understand why you’re called Moaning Myrtle, you whore,” Charlotte said in a serious voice as she looked over at the ghost, who let out a sob. Her eyes snapped to Draco, who had his face tilted to the floor but his steely grey-blue eyes wandered guiltily to Charlotte occasionally. “Two: Draco…you can’t actually screw a ghost, so I haven’t the slightest clue what you were moaning about. Now, if you wanted someone to screw, all you’d have to do would be ask me, alright?” Charlotte’s serious face suddenly brightened into a cheeky, victorious smile. Myrtle, had she not been a ghostly grey color, would have been a vivid red color and Draco was practically drooling. “Carry on then, loves,” she chirped before turning and leaving the bathroom, Draco following not-to-far behind her as he stammered to get out the one question on his mind.

“Why do they always go for the ones with a pulse?” Myrtle wailed and dove into the U-bend of the nearest toilets. And thus, Filch has his hands cleaned with mopping up the watery mess she made until dinner was served that evening.