She was a doll now, that was all there was to it. The skin behind her knees squeaked when she walked, and her freckles itched as though they were newly painted. Charley felt the most unlike herself in the dress, the only thing the runt would offer in place of her own and probably sewn for him, too. It pulled and stiffened when she moved, only reluctantly allowing it after her own bout of pulling at its hems and seams. The new tear in the sleeve had marked the urchin's triumphant victory over the dress.

There was still something of a score to settle with the house-elf, however, who immediately earned her burning glare the moment they reached his master. The urchin's mouth curled with her fist in defiance, and only Victor's gaping and gawking at her upon his reappearance made her hold herself back. Not so with her words, she couldn't let his snitching go uncontested. "That bleedin' cat had it in for me, I swear it. Little devil wouldn't let me do up my knickers an' kept gnawin' at my stockings!" She turned her nose up to the man, trading her curled lips for an open plea instead, clasping her hands together in front of the one bow Charley could stomach, fastened around her middle. "I only thought the mog'd be more keen nibblin' on the ribbon than my ankles."

Charley blinked at him once, then twice, weathering the compliment for her appearance. There was a note of conspiracy in his voice, that secret patter that grown-ups thought they kept hidden from children. Of course, he and the runt must have been in cahoots about the whole affair. She blew a soft sound through her nose, between a snicker and a snort, letting them know exactly how much she was onto them. Then, pleasant as a doll, Charley gave her head one decisive nod.

It shook droplets of water down into the tiny puddles blossoming at her feet. That had been her victory as well. The runt wouldn't let her braid her hair again, and the mean old thing had stolen her cap! She kicked out her foot when the house-elf tried to snitch again, showing him just how much of the hemline he had to worry about. "Button yer gob. It's longer'n mine, and the stockings're near good as new!"

The urchin stepped forward, making her choice obvious to the man. He was dressed to the nines now, and seemed to be in a decidedly less-than-drunken state. It didn't look like the sort of gentleman who would brave an unruly floo, but that alone didn't give Charley much confidence. "Ya could jes lend me a broom. Leastwise, the cap yer creature stole from me. Make a lass a bit more comfortable, eh?"

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