Nothing felt right tonight. Damp, dreary and cold complimented the uneasy feeling Galton had bumping around his body. The poor weather was forgivable - this was England after all - but the butterflies were unusual.
In earnest, Bouncer work was a lot more boring than Galton had anticipated. It was a lot of standing around and looking uninterested and unflinching. Nothing that a black robe and scowl couldn’t conjure. Not that he often wore a scowl. Rather a smile. It was much too exhausting to act mean all of the time. He could when needed, but often a smile worked just as well. As long as you knew who to use it on. Scowl or smile, whatever tool you needed, a majority of the time you’d just wear a blank stare. Like tonight.
Bored and restless, there was nothing to smile or scowl at or about tonight. Which made the butterflies all the more odd. He was posted outside an up-and-coming nightclub that had made the post for their inventive cocktails. So up-and-coming they were open on a Thursday night. He could count the amount of patrons he’d let in on his hand. And the amount that had left. This had to be one of the worst postings he’d received.
Every night was a gamble. He was too new to be able to request any specific postings, so they just sent him wherever needed. On the interesting side you had upscale Pureblood organized Balls and parties. Those were always his favorite. Admittance was always entertaining - seeing the latest trends of high magic society (specifically trending robes) and who was who. And when you had to eventually remove one of those socialites for drunken and disorderly conduct? A scandal! For them. It was just fun for Galton.
A tad less fancy, but still interesting there were the sport matches. Large stadiums tended to have their own staff composed of much better security specialists than just bouncers. But smaller venues hosting the odd tournament or two were possible. You didn’t get to do anything really fun like watch the matches in most cases, but variety was the spice of life - and they provided just that. There was almost certainly going to be a few patrons to escort out, and even more turned away at the door for some form of intoxication. And every once and a while one of them did something that provoked a spell or two out of the young Lansdale. Or a spell that hit him, which prompted more than a few spells as a reply.
Then you had the more mundane and run-of-the-mill jobs like tonight. Bars or clubs that were rowdy enough to warrant some extra wands around. On a good night you had a steady stream of patrons, and a few curfuffles to keep you from falling asleep. On a bad, it was like a war zone. And at the worst, they were like tonight, nothing. Just staring into the dark praying for someone to show up. Though it wasn’t truly the worst. The worst were the more seedy postings. Places like Wand Wrappers or The Unicorn’s Horn. Even being new he’d put in a complaint asking to keep him from
those types of places.
As he stared off into nothing he let himself daydream (night dream?) a bit. It was a fine line between being aware of your surroundings and enough away from them that you weren’t bored out of your skull. His thoughts wandered to similar times back at Hogwarts. Damp and dark nights locked in the expansive castle. He was still adapting to being gone from it. And all the familiar faces. Before his mind could wander much farther a crowd of robed individuals emerged from the streets corner.
Galton could hear them even with the distance and rain. A group of 5, seemingly pre-inclined to having a good time. As evident by the near empty bottles that was hastily being passed between the club-hopefuls. While a rowdy crowd of bachelors wasn’t exactly the type one loved to see, Galton was just thankful he was seeing anyone. And he was sure the club would be too.
There were a some voices and a few hoots before the pod hushed themselves a few feet off from Galton as they straitened clothes, casted a charm or two, finished the bottles and approached the bouncer.
Galton stepped out from the easement he was hiding behind to remove the velvet rope that stood between them and the club. The sight almost made him chuckle. A long rope and rug set up hugging the side of the building with not a soul in sight to fill it. Well besides these 5. And while it would be funny to have made them get in line and go through the motions, Galton was too scared to lose them to try that. So drop the rope for them he did.
As they closed in he could see his initial survey was wrong - it was four bachelors and one bachelorette. All around 25 years old. Robes on three of them, muggle dress on the other two, but all hip enough. Two stood out - one man in robes that teetered right between dress and work garb that screamed “I have money and a tailor”, and the girl, who wore what seemed to be a black leather corset under her raincoat. Muggle trend for sure. Clubs (minus the pureblood ones) tended to love having a mix of magical and muggle fashion - a space everyone felt welcome. And this group was those exact clientele they’d wanted to attract.
“Evening, entrance is free before 23, lucky you.” Galton said as he went to pull open the club’s door. The tiny hints of bass exploded outward as he did. Just because the crowd was small didn’t mean the band stopped playing.
“Mind the club rules when you enter. And enjoy.” The newer clubs tended to have their house rules posted right as you entered. If a group looked a bit too wild they’d normally get quizzed on the rules before they were let loose. It didn’t do too much but filter out the truly gone or rotten, but it was something more tangible than a pure eye examination.
With the group inside Galton would close the door behind them and return to place the rope back to separate the club from the rest of the world. The music faded once again to just hints of bass as he took his post back up. All that excitement had almost risen his heartbeat. Almost. It was time to stare off into the abyss once again now.
It took another 3 hours before the commotion began. He’d let in another 12 guests, making the total count roughly 22. Small enough amount that when the noise from within began he had just figured it was the band rather than an actual issue. As he stood there contemplating peaking inside the darkened window above him would explode outward, sending glass flying across the street (and their entrance rug). There was no more debate, Galton shot for the door, mind racing about what he’d find waiting inside. Other than magic. It was always magic. It was just a question of what and how. Policy was to wand check at the front, so either someone had smuggled a wand in (and his coworker had failed his part) or there was someone able to cast without a wand. As he pulled the door open and peered in it hit him.
Smoke poured out into the street. Or was it fog. The club’s music was gone. As he breathed in he instantly regretted it. His mind began to reel.
Then he was standing in a square, near a memorial. The one in Godric’s Hollow. It was too famous to not recognize. Cold air almost burnt his skin, the village sounds were muffled as if behind glass. He looked towards it, and then there’s a tug in his chest that pulls him away from the memorial.
His head reels again and his vision goes fuzzy. It’s like fast-forwarding, everything is blurred, and the next stop is near a ruined cottage. There are no noises, it seems to be a bit away from the village. There are Ministry-marks all over the place, but it’s worn out. The air feels colder and quieter. The insides are whirling around as if something has happened here.
Another tug and his head goes wild again. The next tug draws him inside that very cottage. He looks into a vertical shaft — there’s only darkness, pure void. He feels his own arm straining, stretching down the shaft, his hand locked around someone’s wrist. It’s slick with cold sweat. It’s not someone, it’s… Hugh…
“Galton… Please…”
And the fingers slip, and then Hugh drops into darkness.
He snaps back to reality clutching the door, smoke pouring out. Time hadn’t seem to have passed for more than a second or two. His stomach began to turn as Hugh’s word loop over and over in his head. Adrenaline floods into the young bouncer as he clutches the door tighter a tighter. It had felt so real. But the explosion had actually been real. Everything in his body was trying to tear him away from this dumb club and towards Godrick’s Hallow. But he couldn’t. Not this second. If only there wasn’t smoke pouring out of the door and glass all across the street. Fighting every instinct in himself he pushed forward into the club.
Making it up the stairs he would see the wand room clerks peering over the counter and coughing. But his colleague Jorge was no where to be seen. He pressed further in towards the bar. His pulse racing as he slipped his wand down into his right palm. As he turned the corner to the bar he saw it.
The club’s music goers fanning their hands and laughing. Jorge at the bar putting out small fires that had taken hold on a few bar stools. And the bartenders, three of them all gathered around a smoking mixer. Which continued to pour smoke out of it.
“Wha…” would be the only sound that could come from Galton’s mouth as he gazed on in bewilderment.
“It’s fine! It’s fine!” One of the bartenders would call out towards him. He didn’t know which, he could hardly think straight.
“Just a little mixologicical mishap.” The words hit him like a confringo.
The club had gotten its rise in popularity from their particularly unique and inventive, magically infused and served cocktails. And it seems that flair had a chance to explode in their face. Glancing around he could see the most occupants had their hair tussled about in some fashion, but a lack of scorch marks.
“I was trying a new twist on our VentuSour.” The same bartender would shout towards him again.
His eyes rolled on instinct.
“Reparo!” Galton shouted pointing his wand towards the window. Such a false alarm couldn’t have come at a worse moment. Despite the present danger being gone his heart rate didn’t dip. The adrenaline didn’t subside. All he could think about was Hugh’s hand slipping away. Of course it slipped away. No way he was strong enough to hold onto him for long. But he had done nothing.
Fighting the thoughts he held his wand towards the window long enough for it to reassemble itself. When the final piece of glass clicked back into place he turned for the door.
“Family emergency, Jorge! Cover for me!” He had no idea if Jorge liked him enough to do that. He probably wouldn’t have covered for Jorge. But that didn’t matter right now. Galton shot out into the street and coughed. Clearing the smoke from his lungs and looking for which street would take him towards the Hallow fastest.
As his feet began to move he wasn’t sure what his play was. A bus, broom, or just his feet. He was determined to make it to Godrick’s before something bad actually happened. It had been a boring night at work anyway.
