Millicent and the Dingle
Laughing raucously as he won another hand, he leant forward to rake his winnings towards him across the rough table surface, the coins clinking together pleasingly as they were dragged, and he began to stack them slowly whilst he ragged on the blokes about their poor card skills. It was amusing that they took it good-naturedly, and he appreciated that. Particularly because if they left, he'd get less money off them. He flicked a couple of Galleons at the elderly wizard as he realised he only had a few Knuts remaining. "You're gonna owe me for those, Lenny," he added with a pointed finger.
He raised his gaze, smile spreading at the appearance of Millicent by the table. "I did indeed, Millie," he said, waving his hand towards the seat Lenny had just vacated. "Sit, sit," he told her then called over to Aberforth again. "Oi, Abe, get me some Timişoreana, and shots of rum and Amaretto," he called over to Aberforth, ignoring the older bloke's rolled eyes and turning back to Millicent. "Now, course, we ain't got a dragon to set the beer on fire, so this is gonna be a little different, but the essence of the idea's still the same," Harold said with a shrug.