101 Uses for Goblins #83: Entertainment

[Captain Darcy Potter]

• It was not, strictly speaking, legal. Then again, given the locationùthe cellar of the Hog's Headùthat much wasn't particularly unexpected. Ethically, it was fine: the competitors were well compensated, as any fully-functioning goblin would always be, and they entered into it willingly, as getting a goblin to do anything against their will would prove something of a challenge. Still, the wizard typically drifted towards the more... refined, he supposed would be the term, gambling escapadesùdice, cards, friendly bets over the outcome of the Quidditch World Cupùso the goblin-on-goblin combat before him, not to mention the energy of the other gamblers in the dank cellar, was something quite foreign to him. And Darcy Potter loved every moment of it.
  
  He had taken a pass on the round at hand, instead taking his modest winnings to the bar proper and purchasing a mug of firewhiskeyùnot his first that evening. The clientele was sparse that evening, with most of the tavern's usual clientele engaged in the activities downstairs. What remained were the townsfolk too drunk to pay much attention to gambling, and a few wayfarers who were unaware that The Three Broomsticks would probably provide a more comfortable environment. Even the man pulling pints behind the bar seemed almost reluctant to be there, though whether he wished to avoid work or yearned to be where the action was, Darcy could not say. Mug clutched firmly in hand, the wizard returned to the cellar, where the current round was in full swing. With remarkable willpower he managed to make his way reasonably steadily through the crowd to acquire a better view of the goblin fight, not even minding when the cart driver next to him jostled him slightly or the street cleaner behind him yelled a bit too loudly into his ear. Such was the power of a good spectacle.
  
  Left hook, right hook, tackle, eye gouging?!
  
  The crowd around himùand Darcy too, with his foolish grin at the turnùroared as one goblin (Turg? The wizard had paid little attention beyond the goblins upon which he himself had been betting) hurled his small body at the other, long fingers finding purchase in the second goblin's eye sockets. The goblin-who-wasn't-Turg, though, was having none of this and, with a shriek that sent a shiverùfear, not excitement as it had been beforeùdown Darcy's spine, retaliated by kicking Turg squarely in the neck in a feat of acrobatics that would have put anyone to shame. Turg flew backwards, landing with a soft thud on the dirt floor, unmoving. As the goblin-who-wasn't-Turg was declared the winner of the roundùand the noise made it easy to ascertain who had bet on himùa mediwizard lazily made his way over to the fallen goblin, who would, in a few days, prove to make a full recovery. Darcy downed what was left of his pint, and made his way through the packed cellar to place his bet for the next round.

  

[William Voltenburg]

The blood of each idividual man, woman and beast in the world is unique and had its own subtle characteristics. That said, much like pork tastes like pork and chicken like chicken, each species of the world could be easily identifiable to even the youngest of Vampires by smell alone.

It was the sharp metalic tang of Goblin blood that had reached Williams nose as he skirted the edges of Hogsmeade that evening. It certainly piqued his interest; Goblins weren't known for holding open fights amongst the general human populace. Intrigued more than enticed, for Vampires crave most of all Human blood, he followed his nose till it led him to the door of a drinking establishment called The Hogs Head.

He had not fed for a few days, and he was beginning to look distinctly like fresh cadaver once more. Still, the human folk were getting merry and intoxicated, and in the shifting glow of oil lamps and candle flame he looked as orange as the rest of them.

The scent led him to some musty old stairs. Here, the smell of human blood lingered, where someone had evidently scrubbed and scrubbed to get it washed off the floor. His tongue burned longingly at the scent, but it was old news. Fresh Goblin blood that he had smelled from so far off was gushing from the cut above one creatures eye and spilling onto the floor. Goblins fighting for sport, now that was amusing. He slipped into position. Perhaps he would be able to help the proprietor "clean up" once it was all over with...

  

[Captain Darcy Potter]

• The wizard let out a groanùwho would have thought a groan could be slurred?ùof disappointment as the goblin upon which he had bet was pulled from the ring unconscious and with an arm that did not look inclined to stay attached to the rest of him. Clearly, it had reached the point in the evening at which his judgment was too heavily skewed by his alcohol consumption to place clear-headed bets, and any other respectable man likely would have begun to ease off. Darcy Potter, however, was often more of a gambling man than a respectable one; with a quick stop off to place yet another betùhe seemed to be placing them more and more highly as the night wore onùthe shining example of a Ministry worker attempted to retreat once more upstairs, his mug having run dry yet again through a combination of spillage and incessant drinking.
  
  The crowd circling the edges of the ring was not a thin one, making his travels more difficult than Darcy would have liked. Undeterred by this, however, the wizard became slightly aggressive in his attempts to navigate it, not hesitating to elbow a man here and there if it would draw him closer to his goal. One he must have jostled a little too roughly if even he himself took note of it, though Darcy would not allow himself to take the blame. "Watch its," he grumbled over the din; had he been sober, his tone might even have been stern.
  
  After speaking, the wizard took stock of who it was he had addressed. To his inebriated mind, the man looked somewhat... off, but he attributed that entirely to the firewhisky. He was an older bloke, one not quite as tall as Darcy but somewhat sturdier; in spite of thisùand in spite of the fact that the wizard rarely sought a fought, however drunkùPotter quickly came to the conclusion that, probably, he would be able to take them man if, for some reason, it came to that.