First fic, so it sucks.

Disclaimer: No profit has, is or will be made from this, no infringement or plagiarism intended, props to whoever had this idea before me.

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Few wizards remember, I prefer to keep it that way.

It had started so simple, a dueling tournament with a couple hundred galleons for the victor.

Now, we were young, foolish, and rather strapped for coin at the time.

Naturally, we entered ourselves without a second thought.

It was only when I stepped into the arena, that I found out it was a Goblin tournament, to the last survivor, any cowards to be impaled, quartered or killed with unpleasant means.

Imagine my surprise. Nasty fellows, those Goblins, oh yes.

I cannot recall all the details in my old age, but I do remember winning the tournament.

Incidentally, this is how I stopped being "Fred the Vagrant" and became "Fred the Fortunate"

The feast was better than any I've ever had in all my years at Hogwarts. "Goblin custom" I was told.

In hindsight, the "white meat" probably wasn't pig after all, alas Yorick? you tasted swell.

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I think it was the third(or was it the fourth?) course that was poisoned. As luck would have it, Goblin customs dictate vengeance for every clan member slain by non-Goblin hands.

Now, in normal circumstances, this would mean I had three Goblin clans, numbering a total of two hundred and thirty Goblin warriors(mostly wearing troll-hide armour) swearing vengeance and trying to kill me, nothing personal, just Goblin customs.

Hypocritical fellows, those Goblins

This would have made me "Fred-the-soon-to-be-Fading" had it not been for a passing goat, one diffindo and some blood spatters later and I had a bezoar.

I think that's what made little Abe love them so much.

Instead, I became "Fred-with-the-Fiendfyre-who-had-Goblin-blood-on-his-hands" as I flitted away in the darkness.

Eventually I found a living, selling poorly made wicker baskets to gullible fools while travelling between cities.

This is how I became known as "Flitter-who-dashed-entire-Goblin-bloodlines-and-became-a-wicker-basket-salesman".

As it turned out however, Goblin clans have a tendency to intermarry, meaning my unlikely(and very lucky) success against a large number of opponents had netted me the hostility of over one hundred clans, Goblin customs as usual.

I was fairly certain they would succeed at killing me too. Crafty fellows, those Goblins.

So I became "Flit-wicker-basket-who-was-interested-in-concealment-charms"

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Now, I like to say I became good at charms, extraordinarily good in fact.

I even got a teaching job out of it, imagine that.

To date, I am the *only* wizard to have ever made Goblins forget a grudge.

Persistent fellows, those Goblins.

I am Fidelius Flit-wicker, "Tournament champion who has dashed entire goblin bloodlines with Fiendfyre and invented the Fidelius charm to hide from Goblins and eventually became a teacher".

Not that anybody remembers.

The younger generations know me as Fillius Flitwick, a music aficionado that teaches eleven year olds all about the swish, the flick, the lumos and the leviosa.

Harmless, eccentric, some think me part Goblin, some know me to be a duelist.

I don't intend to correct them.

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I always found J.K. Rowling's statement of "a dash of goblin blood" a bit odd, this is my take on it.