Hogwarts' Got Talent! Spectators

Interacting with @Evelynn Decipio

As a pureblood growing up in a wealthy, aristocratic family, Ivy had seen many stage performances - ballets and plays particularly. Her family despised musicals and forbade them, but that didn't stop her from sneaking out with her older sister, Lillian, to see them. It was in the theater that her hatred of Muggles waned. How could monsters create something so beautiful and vibrant? It didn't seem possible.

Of course, the secret night excursions stopped when Lillian eloped, but Ivy's newly found view of Muggles did not change. While she did not express this to her family, knowing very well that they would disown her, she secretly wished she had been born into the Muggle world at times. It was so fascinating to her, all the wondrous things they had come up with. The young pureblood did not for a second think that her world would be fascinating to them.

Ivy had, of course, contemplating signing up for the talent show, but decided against it. Ballet was a rather uncommon hobby among the Hogwarts students, and she was unsure of how they would react if she showed up in a tutu and tights. She had, of course, brought her violin and flute with her to the castle, but she hadn't played for a month or so now, and Ivy knew she wouldn't be able to get back to where she had been prior to Hogwarts in a week.

The young Gryffindor decided she would simply watch the talent show instead. Perhaps it would feel like how it did in the theatre with Lillian all those years ago. Dressed in a simple cotton dress and a pale blue bow holding her brown hair back, she slipped through the door of the rehearsal room.

The first thing she noticed was how beautiful the decorations were. Stepping onto a thick red carpet, intended to muffle the footsteps of the arriving guests, Ivy was suddenly hit with a bout of nostalgia as she thought of the carpeted steps of the theater. The chairs were lined up in an orderly fashion, with fabric tied to the seats, and paper stars in the colours of the four houses adorned the ceiling, hanging down at different lengths. Ivy reached her hand up to touch one of them in amazement. Whoever decorated this place obviously took a lot of care and effort in doing so.

She looked around, wondering where she could sit. In the front row, she could see Willow, talking to a boy she couldn't quite make out. She was about to head for them when she spotted a lonely redhead sitting on her own, hiding behind a program. Ivy looked between her and Willow. The Hufflepuff had plenty of friends and would surely be surrounded by many others soon.

But she wasn't sure about the other girl. Although there was a chance that she, too, was immensely popular, there was also a chance she was not. Ivy liked to sit with someone during stage performances - not to whisper, obviously, but someone she could share grimaces and smiles with throughout the performance. In a split second, the Gryffindor made a decision.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked the redhead.

There was no reason for the prefect to be here. Really. She was not preforming, nor did she have someone to support here. They were nobody to her, as she was to them. Most of the people here were strangers- faceless peers in the vast sea of students. There was the occasional face, or mop of hair that she recognized- most notably a handful of students that had helped with a dusting errand, but none of which she knew well enough to engage in a conversation with. Absentmindedly, she would take a program that had been jabbed in her general direction. "Thanks." She honestly didn't expect this many people to come to a student-run event. This was a surprise.

So why was she here? She didn't really know herself, if she was being honest. She just felt like doing something a little different. She wanted to live a little, experience new things- even if they did seem...droll. Ever since the Masquerade, she couldn't help but feel that she had this, sword of Damocles, just hanging over her head. It wasn't a good feeling. Not at all. The lioness- who looked like she was about to go out and see the Opera, in her 19th century bustle gown; stepped into the river of nameless students, only to be swept to an open seat in the back row. Out of sight. Out of mind. And very, very out of place. As per usual.

She had to admit, whoever did the decorating for the Rehearsal Room, did a pretty good job, considering what they had to work with. It wasn't too shabby- for a student run event. But goodness, those shiny little, multicolored stars that hung from the ceiling were so damn distracting. She stared at them for a long while. Her feline gaze unwavering until the show started. She wished she had brought her cat along for the ride, but she had to leave him in the dorm. It was his bedtime. So, the metamorph was left to aimlessly fiddle with her program.

Mentions: Lark, Allister, Nico, Breana

Although he had never attended one, a "talent show" sounded like a perfectly self-explanatory event. Peri's peers intended to demonstrate their abilities, which was no small feat, so it seemed reasonable that one should show the affair a certain degree of respects. The young Ravenclaw dressed as one might for an actual theater performance: in a small suit and tie. His black dress shoes were shined, white shirt neatly pressed, House pride woven through the outfit via grey-blue vest and trousers with a dull bronze tie. A polished Ravenclaw crest was pinned to a vest lapel. Yet in spite of all formalities, one effect adhered to the norm: he carried that trademark leather book bag, perpetually prepared to study. In fact, the young wizard arrived with a pencil in one hand and journal propped open in the other.

Pericles took his time searching for a seat. He soaked up the decorations Lark had artfully arranged, eyebrows arched in a thinly-veiled expression of wonderment, loitering near the entrance to take it all in. A hungry look settled on the sweets and punch set out for spectators before the boy began jotting in his book. One could only wonder what he was taking notes on here, of all places. How to host an event? Multitasking his studies? Or had the wannabe auror altered his aspirations, now playing the part of a miniature health inspector? Whatever the case may be, he closed his notes long enough to take a seat, settling into the front row closer to the rightmost edge. Peri pulled his glasses from a vest pocket, pushing them up the bumped bridge of his nose so as to see the stage clearly. As Allister addressed them, the boy politely placed his pencil down, leaning forward in his seat with the subtlest show of excitement.

Steady clapping for the organizer's speech petered out as Nico took the stage. Curiosity hummed under the lad's placid surface as the phonograph was prepared, and once the song started, he took up his book once more. Whatever he had intended to do with it was soon enough forgotten. Pericles had lived a privileged life with few melancholy memories, resulting in a mild-mannered youth who nearly never expressed much anger or sorrow. It was not the lyrics which resonated with him so much as the performance itself, pouring from the Slytherin's core, charged by some significant story he thought he glimpsed beneath her surface while her teary eyes wandered the front rows. Come the conclusion, Peri clapped but did not smile. Nico had not overdone it, not one bit: art was supposed to make you feel something, and that didn't have to be happiness.

Nevertheless, he would be glad for the upbeat (and outright silly) performance to come. When Allister announced that Breana was up next, a soft surprise passed over Peri. He had taken a pamphlet yet hadn't gotten around to actually reading it. The boy's bafflement only grew when the girl stepped out onto the stage, her attire entirely foreign to him, props perking up that curiosity again. The song began and the mild gloom from the former song evaporated. His silvery eyes lidded in amusement, smile stretched, though his jaw would drop the moment Breana cast Tarantellegra on the chair. It was an utterly unexpected but clever use of magic for entertainment, something that crinkled his nose with a wide smirk. He clapped at the close, especially enthusiastic, bringing two fingers to his lips and adding an encouraging whistle to the din of applause. When she left the spotlight, Pericles took a moment to pull the pamphlet from the front cover of his book, skim for what was next, and scrawl a series of additional notes onto the open page.

Interacting with @Willow Anderson @Alan Vanes and @Jack Burnett 

Ruka smirked lightly as he saw the surprise in Willow's face when he approached and sat down next to her. He assumed that she thought he had better places to be, other people to see, but really, it wasn't like Ruka had been making a lot of positive relationships this year, and the only other person he would have preferred to spend his time with didn't seem to be around yet, so where else was he supposed to go?

At least Willow was interesting company, and he was going to take that over sulking backstage by himself any day.

"Well, I'll be excited to see your first love in action," he told her with a small sparkle in his eyes and a genuine smile on his face. He didn't know much about painting, was barely able to draw some balloons on that birthday card he'd made for Opeila, but considering how much passion had for her bracelets, he felt like her painting had to be something truly special then, if she actually thought of it as her first love.

Her next words made him look down at the torches between his knees with a little shrug. "Oh, yeah," he said, lifting a hand to sheepishly run it through his hair. "I dabble a bit." What a gross understatement, but maybe it would just strengthen the element of surprise when he actually did get to the performance and showed off just how much he was dabbling in the field. 

Looking back up at Willow, he gave her a small smile, only tilting his head to the side a little when she seemed to wink at him before turning away like she was embarrassed by something.

Weird.

Fortunately, the arrival of his fellow Gryffindor Alan saved him from having to pick that conversation up from where it had just dropped and shattered, and he just watched as Willow got off her seat to hug the older boy.

"Alan," he said lightly once Willow had sat down again, offering his upperclassman a little smile. "Glad you could make it." He had assumed Alan was going to show up even if he hadn't known that he and Willow were apparently quite close; After all, he had told the other Gryffindor that he was going to perform as well, and Alan was nothing if not supportive, so it was really no surprise to see him in the audience.

Ruka didn't answer about whether he was nervous or not, figuring that Willow's response was more than sufficient for both of them, and it gave him the time to let his eyes slide across the room again in search of the one familiar face he was really craving to see right now, but it still seemed like the Slytherin boy in question wasn't around yet.

That is, until a voice that Ruka would be able to recognise in his sleep by now made itself heard right by his ear, making him flinch enough for the torches between his knees to shift uncomfortably. The tap on his shoulder made him turn his head slightly, a sigh of relief escaping him as he looked at Jack from the corner of his eye.

Nodding his understanding he turned back towards Willow and Alan with considerably more excitement in his expression than before. "Sorry guys, I'll see you all later, right?" Without waiting for a response, he got off his seat to follow Jack toward the backstage area, torches clutched tightly in his right hand as he  caught up with the other boy and reached his left one out to stop the Slytherin in his tracks by grabbing his wrist and pulling him into a quick, one-armed hug.

"Hey," he said brightly, shrugging slightly to apologise for the unwarranted show of physical affection. He just hadn't been able to stop himself; He'd been so scared of Jack not showing up for whatever reason, that the sight of him had overwhelmed Ruka so much he just needed to show his gratitude one way or another. "So what are we doing? It's still a while to go before our act, isn't it?"

[font=Segoe Print]Interacting With: @Flash Holmwood
Mentioning: @Katrina Walker @Opeila Seilun @Roman Kingston @Virgil Lee @Lydia Cooper @Jack Burnett [/font]
[font=Segoe Print]Rafael would be flat-out lying, if he were to tell Flash that he didn’t fear the prying eyes.

When it came to music and performing, the boy had always valued the confidentiality in his skills as a musician – he supposed, in a way, he was embarrassed that he’d ever found interest in such things as music and instruments. He’d been hiding his musical talent for quite a while, from all his distant family and friends, only expressing his affinity in the recesses of the rehearsal room, one of the only places in the school that people seemed to shy away from. It wasn’t a secret that there weren’t many singers at Hogwarts – there were even less people that played the piano. It was a fact as comforting as it was disturbing, as often the boy felt an alien in his own communities, hiding his voice from all those who presided in his life. He supposed, in a way, his voice was his own guilty secret, one of which he dared not share with anyone. No one was to know.

His beliefs of secrecy, however, had been severely tested upon arriving at Hogwarts. He’d run into several people during his first year at the wizarding school, people who had made him feel more comfortable about his guilty secret, as strange a concept it was – there was Katrina, fellow piano player, and Opeila, a rather skilled violinist, both of whom had caught the boy practicing in the Rehearsal Room one fine December morning. Roman and Virgil, his bandmates, had one upon a time allowed the boy into their band, both lovely people, even if the former came across a bit arrogant at times. There was Lydia, sweet angel Lydia, who had shared her own, silky smooth voice in the piano room only recently, a girl who seemed to make the Gryffindor feel absolutely shameless about singing for other people in the most acute, unexplainable way. [He hadn’t been aware that such people existed in the world – Hogwarts was certainly full of surprises.] And, then, there was Flash –

Really, Flash was the only reason the boy had even partially considered signing up for such an absurd activity. Or, rather, had tolerated being signed up – he wasn’t exactly sure how Jack Burnett had found out about his singing, whether someone [Opeila?] had told him, or whether the Slytherin had paid him a visit during one of his band practices. The fact that his nemesis had ever discovered his little secret in the first place, was disturbing in and of itself, but he supposed that he shouldn’t have been too shocked. It wasn’t as if Jack hadn’t proven his unsettling wit, in more instances than one. Besides, he supposed he could have erased his name from the roster any old time, and with it, Jack’s twisted attempt at humor. But what had really shocked him, was the name of the angel boy scrawled in beside his own – Flash Holmwood. The memory of such a boy had put an idea in his mind of the Gryffindor. He’d made it obvious to Flash that a smooth voice like his deserved to be heard – what better time to share it, than at a talent show? It had taken a great deal of convincing, but eventually, he’d gotten Flash to join him on the stage. However, such an action would come at a price – the outing of his own guilty talent. It was a price he was more than willing to pay, if it meant helping his blackbird friend spread his wings.

Which, was why the Gryffindor stood near the stage of the Talent Show, dressed casually as his eyes surveyed the crowd easily, his mouth drawn in a thin line and his fingers messing with the drawstrings of his dirty hoodie. To the average onlooker, one would see the usually calm, undecided look the boy usually wore – however, there was no amount of acting talent that could hide the subtle sheen of sweat glistening on the boy’s forehead. It seemed as if, with every passing moment, his heart pounded harder in his chest, clawing, biting, telling him to leave and never look back. He wasn’t exactly sure why he was nervous – it wasn’t like Quidditch had ever scared him, or a mere man. There was something about the feeling he despised. Weakness. He was being weak, and he hated it.

"Rafael.”

Flash’s voice stung the ears of the tense Captain, and Rafael’s gaze quickly shifted to the boy in question, taking in the form of his fellow first-year. It shouldn’t have been a shock that Flash would be uncomfortable – however, such knowledge didn’t make the sight any easier to look upon. The boy seemed nervous, what with his hand clenched to his shirt, his breathing uneven and a thin, a wavering façade of calmness on his handsome features. Such a sight nearly took the Gryffindor’s breath away – how nervous was Flash, really? Was it that the captain was coaxing someone somewhere they didn’t at all want to go? “I’m glad you’re here. I was…I’m a bit out of sorts...”

Any worries the Gryffindor had, were quickly stifled as Rafael turned towards the Slytherin in entirety. “Oh, yeah?” he laughed, his voice noticeably dry. He chewed his lip for a moment, trying to conjure up some sort of idea of what to do. Then, without so much as a second thought, he came up to Flash’s side, nudging the boy gently as a loosely-feigned grin slipped onto his features. “Hey, they’ll love you,” he whispered, just loud enough for the other boy to hear. “You’re incredible, yeah? A bloody spectacular singer, if I’d ever heard one. I… know it’s, um, scary,” he continued, his words clipped. He didn’t want to admit that the feelings were reciprocated. “But, hey, I’ve got faith in you, mate.” His voice was dripping with sincerity, his lip bit in thought as he searched for more words –

It seemed as if a Fox had chosen to ‘grace’ their presences about then, taking with him the attention of the Gryffindor boy in question. Jack, he inwardly noted, was lucky that Flash was watching – otherwise, Rafael would have grabbed the boy by the throat and strangled him to death, right in front of everyone. He could feel the anger only bubbling within him as Jack offered the two blindfolds, his fists clenching as Jack uttered ‘Break a leg!’. What gave him the implication that he could ever get away with such disrespect? Hadn’t the Potions Room taught him anything?

Without so much as a second thought, Rafael took his own blindfold from Flash’s hands, balling it up and throwing it directly between the shoulder blades of the cursed Slytherin. It was an act of aggression, but purposefully harmless, the light blindfold bouncing innocently off of the boy’s robes. “Bugger off,” he snarled, his gaze boring into the back of his nemesis’s head. Jack certainly hadn’t gotten off scotch-free – whether good was coming from Jack’s twisted humor or not, the Slytherin would be sorely paying for his transgressions later.

“Mierda,” he muttered rubbing his eyes. Facing Flash once more, his angry face melted once more into a look of concern, his eyebrow hiked upwards as he analyzed the mental state of the poor, nervous Slytherin. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked tentatively, his head bowed as he rubbed his neck, his own fear slowly leaking through his body language. “Still think you want to do this?” [/font]

Rafael’s face spoke of apprehensive hopefulness. His smile held together by some sort of borrowed strength not his own. As someone with a normally domineering presence, the contrast in Rafael’s posture and voice was extremely noticeable. Flash’s heart bled for him, trying to be the strong one for the both of them. He had inadvertently become a burden.

Even if the words were an attempt at putting his mind at ease, they still made Flash flush to hear it put so blatantly. He appreciated that he could trust Rafael to be sincere, but it was a lot for an inexperienced heart to take. He wanted to just believe the words he was saying, not try to second guess it or try to find holes in his point of view.

Flash’s momentary calm was brought to a jarring halt by the unwelcomingly familiar voice of Burnett, like a record being scratched. He turned to the boy with a look of impatience already wearing on his features. It was exhausting to even remember that he existed.

Foisting some dirty rags into Flash’s hands, he prattled on about putting on a blindfold in order to perform. A completely facile suggestion, in no short part due to it being offered by his truly. Accepting anything from Burnett was something neither Flash nor Rafael’s pride could bear, though it was no doubt not lost on him.

Most likely, his intention wasn’t to have them consider his offer honestly, but to find a common enemy. Burnett’s tedious teasing only became more readable as its frequency increased. Still, he didn’t have the tools required to retalliate against Burnett, it was clear that he had to bide his time. Waiting for the right moment when a weakness was exposed. Until then, arguing with him was useless.

Instead, he let himself be cheered. The addition of Rafael’s bitter retalliation gave cause for Flash to see the lightness in all of it. Rafael was right there, being as supportive as he could possibly be. Even at that point, only a short time away from the show starting, he was giving him an out. He would let him toss it all away, even at the cost of backing down on his word to perform.

Rafael, he had learned since meeting him, was the captain for Gryffindor's Quidditch team. He hadn’t seen any of Gryffindor’s games that year, so he only figured out second hand. He too had a reputation to maintain, and a lot to lose if Flash messed up and made him look bad. Even with that threat looming over him, he still chose to go ahead with it.

It would have been a travesty to take advantage of such trust for nothing. He had to believe that Rafael was right. He couldn’t expect to make Rafael carry both their fears at once and offer nothing in return. Dropping the useless blindfold on the floor, Flash took up Rafael’s hands in his again. He had no precedent to do it, it was just something he did without thinking.

”I’m alright. Now that you’re here I don’t feel afraid at all.” Flash’s face was still red, but he smiled through it.

He just had to blindly believe it. It was hard to let go of the nagging probabilities that wanted a place on the stage of his thoughts, but he tried to fill it with thoughts of Rafael instead. If he was doing it for someone else, it was easy, wasn’t it? He only just had to do his best, pressure had never stopped him from pushing past his limits before.

Flash sighed, a good deal of the stress leaving his body. He needed to remember to look like he was in control. Lately he tended to forget how important that was. He had started to show emotional vulnerability more often, and it lead to such silly circumstances as performing in a talent show.

He had barely had the time to take in his surroundings, but they had been done with a flair for the personal touch. This show was clearly a work of love by the people who put it together. Certainly it wasn’t a waste of time to participate in something meant to bring recognition to those who had worked hard on their craft.

He too believed Rafael’s playing was divine. He was partial to the piano, always fond of the dynamic sounds of wires and mallets, sometimes soft and dulcet, and other times fearsome and powerful. It was a complex instrument to play, and a challenging one to master. He had a lot of respect for the hard work Rafael was willing to put into it, it said a lot about what kind of person he was.

It made Flash feel regretful about his comment in the Owlery, having admitted that his singing wasn’t taught. It was part of the reason he was so convinced it was terrible, but Rafael didn’t seem to care either way. He just appreciated music, no matter where it came from. After all, why else would Rafael be so nice to him?

”We did our due diligence, our performance should be just like we rehearsed.” He said, believing it.

Interacting with @Rafael D'Spacito
Mentioning @Jack Burnett

Serena leaned against the wall. Her eyes were shut, and her fingers were moving as if she were playing her piece. While there was no music playing for everyone else, in the badger's mind, she was running through her piece that she was due to perform any minute. This wasn't her first rodeo. No, Serena had played in front of people before. Mainly at recitals held by her aunt for her students to perform in.

A slight smile overtook Serena's face as she remembered her first recital. She had been so nervous that she almost threw up all over the piano during her practice run. But Aunt Elizabeth had pulled her aside and advised her niece to do the same thing she was doing now. Then, just take deep breaths until it was time to perform. And it worked! So the practice was now a part of Serena's ritual every time that she performed.

The badger 'played' the last note and took a deep breath. Opening her eyes, Serena noticed a few other people backstage, likely waiting to perform as well. She glanced down at her green dress with a white section on the front. There wasn't a dress code mentioned, so she hoped that it was alright.

At the sound of a boy speaking in a Scottish accent, Serena glanced up. She could see the organizer of this event was talking to the crowd, welcoming everybody to the event. The first-year couldn't see the audience, but she assumed some people had to be in the crowd. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too big. After the boy announced the first performer, Serena watched as a girl who she recognized as one of the Slytherin Prefects walked onto the stage.

Serena was in awe at not only how beautiful the girl's voice was, but also her ability to put emotion into her performance. The first-year envied her. When Nico finished, Serena gave her a big round of applause from backstage. She briefly glanced at the program to double-check who was next.

Breana Oliveire… She wasn't familiar with that name. But tap-dancing sounded like a lot of fun! After the announcer introduced her, Breana walked on-stage. As the music started up, Serena immediately recognized it as The Penguin Dance from Mary Poppins. She remembered watching that movie with her aunt and trying to imitate Dick Van Dyke's iconic dance moves when she was younger.

Serena giggled at Breana's dance moves, her laughter increasing when Breana used Tarantallegra on a chair. The Hufflepuff continued laughing at her routine up until the very end when she gave another round of applause.

Looking down at the program, Serena realized that there was only one more person in front of her. She took another deep breath as she waited for a girl by the name of Lavinia Cloven to begin her performance.

Andrew wouldn't miss this for anything. Like with every Quidditch game, Andrew was going to show up to support his friend Dan Palmer, who would be performing for the talent show. Back in his dorm room, Andrew had put on a nicer pair of blue and tan sneakers, gray jeans and a brown ombre sweater that reminded him of mocha with whipped cream on top; running a comb through his hair and spiking it with gel so he'd look more presentable than usual, for a special event like this. He also tied a satin, emerald green bow around Penelope's neck: a mini bow tie underneath her chin. In a way, the rat looked more fancily dressed up than he did.

With Penelope perched on his shoulder, Andrew entered the Rehearsal room a few minutes early before the masses showed up, so he could pick out a good seat. His eyes were immediately drawn to the refreshments table, but he resisted the urge to swipe one of the goods, until the time was right for intermissions. Strolling down the burgundy carpet, up to the very front, towards the center of the stage, Andrew made his way over to a chair lined with a large blue bow. Didn't matter to him if it was Ravenclaw's color. Blue was his favorite, and he was going to sit there. Making himself comfortable, he would lean back and watch the show, anxiously waiting for Dan's turn to come around. It reminded him of the times he used to sing Choir back in his old Muggle school. Andrew was glad to be in the audience, this time, rather than on stage. Despite Dan's willingness to teach him riverdancing so they might perform the act together, Andrew knew he'd only trip over himself and botch the whole thing into a disaster. No—He would play it safe this time and let Dan have the spotlight. Besides, who else would babysit Penelope so she could watch too?

Mentions: @Dan Palmer, (indirectly) everyone else in the room
Open for interactions
(mainly here for roll call, since I'm bored and got no threads to do atm)

Interacting with @Ivy Bellamy
Mentioning @Allister-Jameson MacAllister and @Nico Shymane

Smug anticipation only seemed to grow as Evelynn eagerly awaited the talent show's start. Snippets of muffled conversation would seep occasionally from the area which she assumed had been arranged at the "back stage", but try as she might, she could never quite make out what was being said, or by whom. Ever the curious individual, she frequently allowed her gaze to wander the room, whether to appreciate (once again) the care that had been taken in the décor, or to make note of those who had come to enjoy the spectacle as she had.

It was during one such sweep of observation that she made note of someone approaching. One of her fellow bunk mates, in fact. Bellany, if she recalled correctly. Once again, Evelynn was reminded — finding herself in the midst of a double-take while the girl paused, seeming to take stock of her surroundings — of just how pretty the girl was. If anyone portrayed the image of a porcelain doll, it was she. And once again, the red head was also reminded of the annoying sense of envy she felt at that observation. There were few whose poise and grace of movement could catch Evelynn's attention, but she was one.

"Hm?" Evelynn hummed, her attention pulled from the coloured stars she had since been pondering. Stone-gray eyes flicked to the source of the question. "Oh, no, not at all," she smiled, realizing that she was inquiring about the seat next to her. "By all means," she added, gesturing open palmed to invite her to sit before laying her hand back atop the other in her lap.

"It's Bellany, right?" She asked, hoping her memory of class and dorm served her well. Rarely ever did it failed her, of course, but the fear of playing a fool always lingered in the background. "I don't think we've met properly. I'm Decipio. Evelynn Decipio. Are you here to support anyone in particular?"

* * *

Not long after the acquaintance, the crowd settled and the show commenced. There certainly would be no lack of Gryffindor representation in the proceedings, Evelynn noted as yet another familiar face made an appearance on the stage. It seemed MacAllister, one of the new chasers of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team would be emceeing the events, and soon enough, he introduced the first of the days performers. Evelynn clapped politely along with the crowd as Nico Shymane took her position.

Likely nothing could have prepared Evelynn for what came next. Although hardly one to consider herself cold or stone-hearted (despite what some may believe), the first-year Gryffindor did have a tendency to keep emotional vulnerability in check. Perhaps the relative success of such attempts relied on observation of leading social cues; or perhaps she was caught off guard by the disarming beauty of the siren standing before them all. Whatever the excuse, Evelynn became quickly caught up in the vocal performance.

Almost immediately, the words uttered by the Slytherin brought Evelynn back to that day where she had to say goodbye to her mother before boarding the train on platform 9 and ¾. Only, it wasn't from her perspective that she watched on. It was from the viewpoint of her mother. Like an acute stab to the heart, she could imagine the pain her mother must have felt to have to say goodbye. To watch as she departed without a care, cross and contemptuous, to enter into a world of which her mother could never truly be a part...

The scene and relating thoughts continued to play as the song continued, until by the end, hazy-eyed and slightly slack-jawed, Evelynn stared on in awe. The cessation of song coupled with the growing round of applause snapped her from her enchantment. Clearing her throat, she clapped politely with the rest, more than a little unnerved to have been moved to such a degree. This was decidedly not why she had come here. She had attended to gain insight into her peers, not to have been moved almost to tears. Expression firming, she resolved to raise her emotional defenses and prepare herself against future performances.

"Not quite what I was expecting from a first act..." She admitted quietly, casting a brief sidelong glance to Bellany as the applause died down. Perhaps a small part of her hoping she hadn't been the only one to have fallen victim to the snake's musical prowess.

"I'm pretty nervous, but I think we'll be fine.", is what the third year got as a response from the first year, as he was pulled into a hug. A smile lifted his face and he returned the hug. As he did so, he could smell the scent of flowers that seemed to always surround the Hufflepuff and it made the Gryffindor smile slightly as he pulled away from her again. "O-Of course it w-will be fine!", the third year encouraged her cheerfully.

He nodded at Ruka, "I w-wouldn't m-miss it!", he replied with some cheek as he sat down next to Willow, once she invited him to take place next to her by gently patting onto the chair. When he saw a familiar figure make his way towards Ruka, he tensed slightly. He gnawed on his lower lip lightly, as he watched Ruka get up from his seat and follow the Slytherin. Was Ruka going to be fine? He shook his head and was sure that Ruka would be alright, after all Ruka was friends with the guy. To get rid off his thoughts, he quickly faced Willow, giving her a slight smile, even though his mind was still a bit distracted, "Wh-When is it g-gonna be yours and Flash's t-turn?", he asked with a light stammer in his voice.

He still had no idea what they would do as a performance and shouldn't Flash be here with Willow, if they intended to work on a performance together? Alan was too focused on the conversation to really pay attention to what was happening on the stage at the moment and only bits of what the moderator told him reached his ear. A familiar voice that sung, which in itself was unfamiliar, made him glance towards the stage and noticed the familiar face or Nico, the Slytherin prefect who was an acquaintance of his. But he forced himself to focus on Willow, because he just asked her something and he really wanted to hear the reply.

"Wh-What will you even p-perform together?"