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0819 The Goblin Gnarlak
🕑 Added 2025-08-26 12:46:57 +0000 UTCGnarlak's gaze fell upon Hobby, and he began smacking his lips with obvious interest in this fine specimen of a cat-like creature. His eager eyes then swept over the three guests seated at the table.
The first to catch his attention was the young man whose silver-gray hair sparkled in the dim tavern light, creating an almost eerie match with the creature's fur.
Next, his nostrils flared wide as he drew in a deep breath, the goblin's sensitive senses immediately detecting the distinctive scent that marked Remus’s true identity.
As for the young witch, when Gnarlak's gaze caught the hostility blazing in her eyes and the particular scent that clung to her, he bared his yellowed, pointed teeth in what could generously be called a smile but more accurately resembled a grimace.
‘A stench,’ He thought with disdain. ‘A lapdog of the Magical Congress. A hothead with more righteousness than sense.’
‘Hiss. How deliciously interesting.’
Gnarlak took another deep, luxurious drag from his expensive Cuban cigar, the rich tobacco smoke curling around his face as he exhaled slowly through his nose.
His eyes, sharpened by decades of reading people and situations, immediately noticed that all three visitors had taken considerable care to conceal their true appearances beneath layers of magical disguise.
Creak, creak
The old floorings creaked beneath his feet as he moved leisurely across the tavern. Still keeping the blazing cigar clamped firmly between his stained teeth, Gnarlak turned toward the bar with leisurely movements.
Behind the wooden bar counter, he selected a large pewter mug and filled it to the brim with the tavern's house ale. The foam head spilled slightly over the rim as he lifted it, and he caught the excess with his tongue before turning back toward his guests.
He dragged a wooden chair across the tavern floor, the legs scraping against the planks with a harsh, grating sound that momentarily drew the attention of other patrons before they returned to their own business dealings.
While this remarkably well-informed goblin conducted his careful observation of the three, Bryan, Remus, and Amelia were equally engaged in studying Gnarlak with varying degrees of wariness and curiosity.
When they observed him approaching their table, Remus proactively shifted his wooden stool closer to Amelia's position making the room.
Upon reaching their table, Gnarlak paused for a moment, then nodded with courtesy toward Remus in thanks. He then maneuvered his chair into the space Remus had created, wedging it between the existing seats.
The pewter mug found its place on the table's surface with a solid thunk, and foam sloshed slightly over the rim to form small puddles.
Settling into his chair with the satisfied air of a king claiming his throne, Gnarlak allowed himself another long, absorbed drag from his cigar. After holding the smoke in his lungs for several seconds, he exhaled slowly, creating patterns in the air before nodding with surprising elegance toward Bryan.
"Your presence brings considerable honor to my humble establishment, Mr. Watson,"
Even Remus, a wizard who had spent years working in both the Bright and Dark Magical world, who had faced Dark wizards, werewolf packs, and political intrigue visibly paled at this casual identification.
As for young Amelia, who had yet to weather such intense storms of political maneuvering and underground dealings, her breath got caught in her throat, and she felt as though the tavern floor had suddenly become unsteady beneath her feet.
Bryan, however, maintained his composure. His smile remained perfectly controlled, neither confirming nor denying the goblin's identification. He merely raised his glass toward Gnarlak in a gesture that could be interpreted as either acknowledgment or simple politeness, before taking a light sip.
Clink—
Bryan set down his glass and surveyed the tavern where they had spent the entire day, his smile was tinged with indifference.
"Quite a nice place you have here,"
Gnarlak inclined his body slightly, removing the cigar from his mouth with a chuckling laugh.
"Your kind words are most appreciated, Mr. Watson. I merely provide shelter for those poor, unfortunate souls who find themselves without a proper home in our world, while managing to earn a modest profit to keep the lights burning and the ale flowing. Nothing more, nothing less."
Gnarlak's attention shifted once again to Hobby, whose ears were perked forward with alert attention.
"So then, Mr. Watson," Gnarlak continued, settling back into his chair, "what particular service might I provide for a wizard of your considerable reputation? Oh, allow me to guess—might you perhaps be in the market for a perfectly legal wand, complete with all the proper documentation from the Wand Permit Office?"
Amelia's lips pressed into a tight line, her brown eyes were practically shooting an absolutely piercing glare.
While she personally disagreed with Director Graves' decision to confiscate Bryan's wand, the idea that this goblin would so brazenly offer to sell wands with forged documentation filled her with fury that tried to overwhelm her self-control.
She made a silent vow that if this creature dared to follow through on such an offer, she would personally ensure he found himself in the deepest, darkest cell Magical Congress security could provide.
Bryan lifted his glass once again. This time, however, he drained the remaining liquid in one smooth gulp before letting out a soft exhale.
Glancing at the table's remnants of cold food, Bryan slipped his hand into his pocket. A moment later, under Gnarlak's shrewd gaze, he produced a handful of Galleons.
Ten gold coins the size of hubcaps lined up on the table, gleaming with an intoxicating luster in the dim light filtered through swirling smoke.
But Gnarlak merely glanced at the coins before looking away, shaking his head with a knowing smile.
"I fear this isn't exactly a wand shop, Mr. Watson, If you're truly seeking something completely legal—"
"I believe you've misunderstood something about this situation, Gnarlak," Bryan interrupted calmly.
"This represents payment for our consumption at this tavern today. I believe it’s more than sufficient to cover our various expenses. Incidentally, I wanted to mention that your house-elf's culinary skills are truly exceptional—I particularly enjoyed those sandwiches it prepared. Please pass along my compliments to the kitchen."
With these words, Bryan reached for his coat, which had been draped over the back of his chair throughout their stay, and he jerked his chin toward Remus and Amelia.
Both of them sat in stunned silence for a moment, their minds struggling to process this unexpected turn of events. They had spent an entire day waiting to meet with this goblin, and now Bryan was simply... leaving?
"Come along, both of you," Bryan said softly. "It's time we head back."
Gnarlak's dark eyes narrowed, his broad green face taking on a distinctly grim expression as he watched this unexpected development unfold. He extinguished his expensive cigar by grinding it into one of the plates on the table.
Just as Bryan and his still-bewildered companions began making their way toward the tavern's exit, Gnarlak finally broke his silence.
"Wait just one moment, if you please,"
Bryan paused in his steps and turned back toward the goblin. "Yes? Is there something else you require?"
Hobby, who had been perched contentedly on Bryan's shoulder throughout their stay, seemed to sense the changing dynamics of the situation. It wrapped both front paws tightly around Bryan's neck in a gesture that showed clear reluctance to see him leave from this interesting place.
Bryan gently pried away the creature's claws and turned to look calmly at Gnarlak.
After a moment's contemplation, Gnarlak stood up. He snapped his fingers, and the uncleared remnants on the table vanished instantly.
"Since you and your friends have traveled from afar, I wonder if I might have the honor of buying you a drink?"
"Oh, no payment required?" Bryan smiled. "We seem to have no reason to refuse."
Would the renowned Bryan Watson truly be swayed by the offer of a few free complimentary drinks? Not only would Remus not believe it, but even Amelia, who had known him for barely two days, wouldn't buy it. However, both were completely bewildered, unable to fathom what game Bryan was playing.
The three resumed their previous seats just as Gnarlak snapped his fingers toward the bar, prompting the house-elf to spring into action.
Knock, knock—
At that moment, someone knocked on the tavern door. It opened to admit a man in a black overcoat and bowler hat, carrying a suitcase.
Gnarlak shot a quick glance at the newcomer before losing interest, but Bryan raised an eyebrow upon seeing the Asian man's face, appearing somewhat surprised.
The man remained by the door without venturing deeper, his slightly uneasy expression suggesting this was his first time in this unfamiliar tavern. His gaze swept the interior until he spotted two young men at a table by the left window—like Bryan's group, they had been sitting in the tavern all day. Upon seeing them, he relaxed.
Those two young men also rose upon noticing the newcomer. They pulled some gold galleons from their pockets, tossed them on the table, and walked toward the door. The three left the tavern in succession, the entire sequence took less than half a minute from the man's entrance.
‘Probably arranging to trade something valuable,’ Bryan thought silently, ‘but finding the tavern environment insufficiently secure or private for their particular transaction.’
The conclusion came easily to someone with Bryan's experience in the shadowy world of underground trade.
This pattern was perfectly familiar from his earlier days in the alleys and hidden markets of Knockturn Alley, where those dealing in high-value or particularly sensitive items habitually arranged their initial meetings in public places before relocating to more secluded locations among the maze-like passages where such business could be conducted away from curious eyes and potential official interference.
"So then, as you can see…." Gnarlak paid no attention to why Bryan might be interested in those ordinary customers. He produced another cigar from his suit's inner pocket and snapped his fingers to light it.
"I am fundamentally a businessman, Mr. Watson. Nothing more, nothing less than that simple truth. If you desire to obtain something of value from me—whether information, services, or more tangible goods—you'll need to offer something of equal or greater value in return."
Bryan leaned back in his wooden chair, the furniture creaking softly under his weight as he shifted to a more comfortable position. His fingers interlaced over his knees, and his smile carried the leisurely air of someone enjoying an interesting conversation.
"And what, specifically, can you provide me?"
His expression then shifted slightly, taking on a more serious tone as he continued. "If this were Barnah, he would never have said something as foolish as offering to procure a wand for me in this situation. You know perfectly well that there's a MACUSA employee sitting at this very table with us, yet you still chose to make such a suggestion. Are you perhaps trying to hand Security Director Graves a convenient excuse to have me immediately deported from the country?"
"Oh, my most sincere apologies for any misunderstanding, Mr. Watson. I suppose I rather assumed that after successfully obtaining a suitable wand, you would naturally make some appropriate adjustments to the young lady's memory.
According to various information I've managed to gather from my European kin over the years, Bryan Watson has never been particularly renowned as a strictly rule-abiding wizard when circumstances require more... flexible approaches to problem-solving."
Gnarlak’s grin widened as he continued, clearly enjoying the verbal sparring match.
"Ah yes, but I believe I understand the situation more clearly now—Security Director Graves, indeed. You know, I recall quite distinctly that some seventy years ago, one Percival Graves held that exact same position before falling victim to that impersonation scheme.
He himself stepped down from his post due to the considerable scandal that affair generated. Quite the shocking business indeed—that impersonator certainly managed to cause considerable trouble for everyone involved before the truth finally emerged."
Gnarlak paused to take another luxurious drag from his cigar before continuing with obvious relish. "I heard you paid him a personal visit quite recently, didn't you? So then, what exactly would you like me to accomplish on your behalf? Perhaps help you pass next week's review board?"
"For this tavern to remain open and operational without being shut down permanently by Magical Congress authorities," Bryan said, twirling his thumbs calmly, "I imagine you've invested considerable effort over the years?"
Gnarlak's dark green eyes practically glittered with cunning intelligence.
"You want to know exactly how much gold I've spent over the decades on those eternally greedy wizards in their comfortable government offices? Oh no, my dear Mr. Watson, that information represents trade secrets of the highest order—hardly the sort of thing I could use for casual bartering or everyday negotiations."
Though claiming such information was impossible to share, Bryan's ear caught the subtle tone in the goblin's voice that said this crafty goblin was merely attempting to lead the conversation in directions that might prove more profitable for his own interests.
"However much gold you may have spent over the years, that's not my primary concern in this situation, Gnarlak, My friends and I have come to New York with the express purpose of conducting legitimate business—I simply cannot afford to antagonize every person holding significant power in this city before I've even had the opportunity to properly establish my operations here."
He paused briefly, before continuing. "You seem quite familiar with Trask Graves, so I would like you to tell me about him. If I find the information you provide valuable, I'll be prepared to pay a price that satisfies you."
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