[OPEN] Open Mic Night

Although Bertie had finished Hogwarts and wasn't able to use magic that didn't mean he had parted ways with the magical world for the summer. Of course it was refreshing to return to the muggle world where he could listen to the muggle radio and binge watch TV shows in search for inspiration but he still held that connection with the magical world in various ways. For a start he still wrote and sent letters via owl post, which wasn't exactly the most muggle thing to do. And secondly Bertie had a subscription with the Daily Prophet, allowing him to be kept up to date with the happenings within the magical world. It was this method of communication that had brought him to Diagon Alley that day. 

There had been an advertisement in the Daily Prophet for an open mic night at the Leaky Cauldron. The idea of performing in front of people didn't appeal to the Ravenclaw, quite frankly he'd much rather be drenched in shrinking solution and forever remain trapped inside a jar than perform in public. It wasn't that he disliked entertainment, he loved it, the Ravenclaw even wrote songs of his own. But being the person to put on the entertainment? That was a different thing. Bertie was always more of the watcher rather than the doer, which was why the sixteen year old found himself using the floo network at his Grandmother's house (the fireplace had been blocked up with a muggle mantle piece). After a flash of green light and a collection of ash being sneezed from his nose the Ravenclaw stood in Quality Quidditch Supplies. Dusting himself off Bertie politely smiled at the shop assistant before heading into the alley and walking up the cobbled street to the famous pub. 

It was the first time Bertie had been to the wizarding street since he'd handed in his resignation at Flourish and Blotts this time last year. A shiver crept down his spine as he passed the Apothecary where he'd walked in on Isadora Malfoy-Nott's post-murder conversation with her husband. That had been the reason why he'd quit his job at the book store, because of the fear of possibly running into similar situation again. Besides, the images in his head of what Isadora could be up to in the shop next door didn't settle well with him. In fact Bertie had been that scared by the sight of the man's lifeless body that he'd ordered his school books via owl post so he wouldn't have to return to the Alley. 

However after sharing a common room with the pure blood for past year Bertie had relaxed slightly, probably because he rarely came into contact with her for she was always in the dungeons according to Vivianna Varnes.  Even when they the Ravenclaws did come into contact at meal times Bertie was grateful of the fact Isadora acted as though he weren't there and the last thing Bertie was going to do was open his mouth and suffer her wrath. As long as he kept quiet he was safe. 

Walking into the pub Bertie noticed that the tables were more cramped together and a small platform had been placed besides the large fireplace and was home toh microphone stands, stools and a piano if any of the performers required it. A group of people were hovering around a sign up sheet pinned to a beam by the bar, where Bertie headed, making an effort to await being served at the opposite end of the bar from where the excited crowd were writing their names. 

After buying his pumpkin juice and a packet of peanuts Bertie made his way to one of the remaining empty tables that was perhaps the furthest from the stage. Preferably he would have liked a seat a little closer but they were already occupied by budding musicians, poets and comedians who were eager to grace the stage and share their art. One of them, however, appeared a little anxious as he knees knocked together and her eyes were wide with nerves behind her glasses. The Ravenclaw gave her a convincing smile before continuing to admire the Leaky Cauldron. 

Not only was he back in the magical world but the atmosphere was electric and definitely worth the white lie he'd told his Mother, who believed he was catching up with an old childhood friend now that he was back home for the Summer. Sadly, Bertie didn't have any old friends from when he was younger, not that it bothered him for, right now, in this moment, the only place Bertie wanted to be was sat at a table in the Leaky Cauldron waiting to hear the words of other writers.

The crowd politely cheered of the shy girl, and a blonde bombshell began to approach the stage, showing a toned stomach and lots of leg in her party outfit. A few men wolf whistled and the blonde waved a hand, smiling widely. She tripped over the first step, causing a snort of amusement from her only real fan of the audience. The blonde gave a nasty glare out at her friend, and continued up the stairs, ignoring the laughter that had been caused from her clumsiness.

"Right, so this is a song-"

The track began and the girl shot a glare at the deejay.

"Oy. Wanker. My speech?"

The music continued and she gave him a death glare, raising her fist like she was going to hit him, before realizing she had about four seconds of instrumentals before she had to sing. She turned back to the audience. "Right, this is dedicated to my mate and lover, Gellert Grindewald- I come home in the morning light/ My mother says when you gonna live your life right-"

"Boo! You're a cliche!"

The call came from across the room, towards the back, where the blonde's best friend Molly lounged in a tall bar chair at a table. The girls purses had been piled in the centers and their large flagons of beer sat before the chairs, both nearly gone. Molly strove to win the race and took another gulp of her drink, her cigarette burning lightly from its perch between her fingers. Margo, the curvy blonde, turned so she was singing directly towards Molly. Molly carefully rolled her eyes, inserting a finger into her ear, which caused Margo to raise her voice significantly in pitch and volume.

The room cringed together.

Molly laughed to herself. The two had dropped in on the open mic night, having already begun their girl's night out earlier in the day. Margo had a bad habit of daring herself to do stupid things ("Dare me to drink four jell-o shots? Dare to me to go on stage and do karaoke? Dare me to see if the emcee will do it in exchange for a look at my ass?") and tonight was going to be one of her crowning jewels. Several people were already getting irritated, but Margo wouldn't know. She had cupped the microphone and was making weird faces as her lips brushed against the microphone.

Margo and Molly. The obnoxious and the anonymous.

((I imagine Molly and Bertie are fairly close to each other, as far as room placement))

Bertie clapped as a blonde girl baring a lot of skin made her way to the stage. She was quite the contrast to the shy girl. For a start she didn't have any glasses and seemed much more confident, though Bertie didn't know whether this was thanks to that dose of liquid courage the alcohol had given her - evident in her slight stumble.

This girl really had left her respectability at home Bertie silently thought as he took a sip of his pumpkin juice. She had a rather rebellious appeal about her from her language to the dedication to Grindeward. Bertie wasn't entirely summed up on Gellerts history but he was aware of how dark a wizard he had been, with comparisons to that of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. All Bertie had to say on the topic was that this girl should be glad she was living in the present day and not in the fifties.

What did make the Ravenclaw sit up a little was the song the girl was singing. Cyndi Lauper. The brown haired boy had grew up listening to the muggle radio and his Mother had her own collection of records from female divas: Madonna, Mariah Carey, Celine Dion and then girl who just wanted to have fun. Bertie couldn't deny, the blonde really was living up to the party anthem.

Bertie glanced around the room as an occasional cringe sparked his face. Clearly he wasn't the only one who noticed how pitchy and off key the girls performance was. Someone called out from the table besides him and the Ravenclaw recognised her from the common room. Molly Weasley. The girl was in the year above Bertie and she seemed to dislike the 'cliche's' performance as much as he did. At least he wasn't as vocal about his.

Draining the last of his pumpkin juice Bertie placed his glass onto the table, where it would soon leave a wet ring on the wooden surface. It soon became clear that Molly must know the performer as they seemed to have a connection in the way Molly laughed at her performance and the girl, whose name Bertie didn't know, sang directly at her.

'Does she do this sort of thing often?' Bertie called across to Molly, unsure whether the blonde was an amateur or a seasoned karaoke pro.

Most people seemed content on ignoring the insults that Molly was hurling at her best friend, as everyone else seemed to have less than pleasant sentiments for Margo. Molly had seen her fellow seventh year Ravenclaw be tormented with more spirit and venom than this. Here, she was in control of how annoyed the crowd got. Every taunt was something she had worked for, and that made it all the more harmless. Molly chiming in was just icing on the cake, making the joke all the more potent. They might as well have faked their identities, the joke was the same.

If Margo had not been aiming at gaining a rise out of the crowd, Molly would have whisked her away from all of the negativity. Idiot Margo was, she was Molly's idiot, and Molly did not take kindly to others treating her unfavorably. She alone reserved he right to take the piss out of the blonde bimbo that she called her best friend.

"THAT'S ALL THEY REALLY WAAA-AAA-AAAA-AA-A-ANT. SOME FUUUUN-"

A voice reached her and she turned her head, hooking a finger on her leopard print sunglasses and pulling them down the bridge of her nose. Bertie Nogard. The boy who came back.

Molly's mouth twitched sideways into a twisted smile. "This sort of thing is all she does."

Bertie grinned. Molly's friend may have resembled a wailing banshee but she appeared to be having fun whilst she did it and the Ravenclaw was weirdly in awe of her performance. It was slightly provocative and a little controversial, or at least it was controversial to a group of older wizards who Bertie overheard complaining at how 'muggle' her performance was.

'I wish I had her confidence.' Bertie replied. The enjoyment that spread across the girls face was evidence of how much of a thrill she was getting. Even past performers that, granted hadn't been as outlandish, appeared to be feeling a rush from the response of the crowd. It seemed like they were living a dream and Bertie only wished that he had the confidence to get up on the stage and have his words heard.

'Do you ever join her for a duet?' Bertie asked, a little unsure on why he was talking to Molly. Perhaps it was the atmosphere in the Leaky Cauldron. Everyone was networking, talking to people they'd never met, nobody felt awkward regardless of how awkward they would usually feel. It was refreshing.

"Confidence," Molly said, tasting the word on her lips, rolling it around on her tongue. "I guess you could call it that." She had never really considered Margo to be all that confident, having always chalked it up to the fact that her friend was just as oblivious as a human being could be. It wasn't confidence - there was too much self loathing in Margo for it to be confidence. But it was a self assuredness. That what it was. She just felt assured that she would survive, that people like Molly would be standing when everyone else abandoned her.

The thought of Margo's sad way of life had very brutally killed Molly's buzz.

Molly turned to look at Bertie, the mirth gone from her eyes, suddenly wearing that unsettling Molly stare that had made even the best of people had been unsettled by. She blinked. "No. You want to?"

The song was over and Margo came tripping towards Molly, blowing kisses to the people who rolled their eyes and glared at her. She plopped down into her spot, adjusting her top and brushing her hair back, grabbing her beer and chugging a good half of the glass. She let out a sigh and wiped her mouth with the back of hand. She slowly looked at Molly. "You owe me five sickles."

(ooc: mega late reply I'm sorry!)

Bertie froze. His eyes widened. Did he want to join her? Did he look like he was a performer? Granted Molly didn't know him all that well but Bertie was anything but a performer. He was a creator, he wrote songs he didn't sing them. Sure he sang them in the shower or by the piano when he was writing them but never did he intend to perform them. Would it be a great feeling to have his words heard? Sure. By him? Not so much. The spotlight wasn't his friend.

Before the tussle-haired boy could answer Molly's slightly intoxicated friend had returned and downed almost her entire glass of beer. She was certainly something, whether it was confidence or not, she was something. Bertie decided to act as though Molly's question was long in the past and looked over at the bar. It was reasonably slack and he'd finished his pumpkin juice. Now would be a perfect opportunity to escape.

'I'm just going up to the bar.' Bertie told Molly with a smile at Margot. 'You were good up there.' He told her before standing up and heading across to the bar. Hopefully by the time Bertie returned somebody else would have started their act, Margot would be even more drunk and Molly would have forgotten she'd even thrown such a question Bertie's way.

Why he was so bothered about her question he didn't know. Perhaps a part of him secretly did want to perform. To escape the box he always found himself in and bring the words he'd written to life. Being so lost in his imagination was his escapism but maybe he needed to extend that method and actually share his words. Vivianna would certainly be impressed she'd always suggested he send his work to publishers or the daily prophet.