Novocain

The Malfoys

His eyes scanned the crowd for the person who would be most receptive to his ploy and plan. An old man? No. A gaggle of teenage girls? While that would get him the sympathy vote he would require someone with more finesse and knowledge of this world. A parent would probably be best. Yes, parents always did like to help lost children even if the thing weren't theirs. A mother would be the perfect target, especially if she were in a shop or near one. It would be happen stance if a child like himself (though he didn't really consider himself a child, more of a smaller adult but that's besides the point) lost his way and wound up in tears before her. Yes, Garron had no qualms about pulling the crying child card. He was going to need all the help he can get.

There.

At the end of the alleyway near a small alcove was a mother and her son alone in front of a clothing store it seemed. The blonde woman seemed to be scolding her son about some matter or another. They were dressed well, very well. In fact, Garron would place his money on the fact that they were probably the richest people in the alley right now. The two seemed to exude pride and wealth and all manner of opulence. This was his chance. The woman would be caught unawares by him and would most likely take pity on him, his clothes were not as up to his standards as he would like but he was orphan. He'd take what he could get.

With the deepest breath he could manage, he began to steadfastly walk towards the duo, building up the nerve to execute his plan. He needed to believe it would work before it did, otherwise, it would all turn to shambles and he would be shipped back to the house. As he got closer and closer he started to see more of the two and gained a better sense of how he would approach them. They were high class, the highest he guessed there could be. That meant that any riff raff no matter how cute would be turned away without a moment's hesitation. He had to play this smart. How to explain away his clothes? How to explain that he needed guidance without seeming like a beggar? All of these questions ran through his mind in the seconds it took to get from one end of the alley to the other. Just as he stepped up within fifteen feet of them he knew exactly what he would do.

When he knew he was within eyesight and earshot of them he fell down in a horrible array of screams and whines. That would explain away the clothes, dirty and torn from his fall. A few seconds later a crowd of people surrounded him, the two targets right in front of him. He started bawling his eyes out, nothing made people more uncomfortable than a crying child. A frenzied hushing followed soon after and he grabbed the nearest person for comfort. This person just so "happened" to be the mother with her child. As he held her still crying she shushed him and tried to comfort him whilst picking him up and guiding him to a small alcove near they were standing in the first place.

"Please Miss." He said through his sobs, she was frantically checking over him for any sort of injuries while trying to get him calm. Garron was smiling in his mind, he loved this trick. "Please." He was sobbing still and only getting worse and louder with every struggled breath.

"What's wrong child? Are you hurt anywhere? Where is your mother? Where are your parents?" Her voice was prim and as proper as the Queen, if a bit colder. He could tell she cared though, the inflection and worry at the end of her questions revealed her feelings. Beside her, her son watched on owl-eyed. His platinum blond hair never falling out of place and his silver eyes never leaving Garron's form on the ground.

"This man came and he started screaming terrible things at me and I ran away. And I then I look back and," he starts to break down now. Time for the cherry on top. "And then I see that mother isn't there anymore. And I don't know where she is." He finished his little monologue with another sob as the mother's arms wrapped around him. Hook. Line. And sinker.

"Narcissa? What in Merlin's name is going on here!" Garron's head snaps up from where it was buried in the woman's clothes. A man in his mid thirties was making his way toward him. The blond hair and aristocratic features give away that he is no doubt related to his targets. Not to mention that the swagger in his walk and the well made clothing make him stand out from any of the rubbish surrounding him.

"Father!" The boy immediately rushes to the man and engulfs him in a hug which the man returns albeit begrudgingly. Garron thought he heard the man grumble something about 'getting too old to hug him' but he just waved it off. These people's personal lives were of no use to him really. Not yet at least. The woman, Narcissa apparently, looked to her husband.

"Lucius. This boy is lost and injured. I witnessed it myself we must help him, or at the very least find someone who could." She spoke in hushed tones toward her husband, eyeing the growing crowd around them.

Lucius huffed. "Very well then." He turned to Garron now with the same pricing eyes as his child. "What is your name boy? What is your mother's name?" Garron could appreciate the level of scrutiny the man was giving him. After all, nothing was rarely as it seemed. Garron had learned that lesson three times over within the past hour alone.

"My name is Garron, Sir. I am eight years old. And my mother's name is Mother, silly." How he hated to dumb himself down, but it was for the greater good, or at least the lesser of two evil's. Lucius sighed at his response and took another breath to compose himself.

"Why don't we take the child to Gringott's Lucius? He'll be safer there anyways. Not to mention they could run a genealogy test and we could contact his parents afterwards." Narcissa's voice seemed calm and docile to others, but Garron knew better. The woman's voice became quite cold at the end. Garron could tell she was through with her husband's antics and would rather just see Garron off instead of arguing with Lucius about anything at all. Garron wouldn't complain, as long as he got to stay he didn't care what happened to do so.

"Fine." The man's almost acerbic tone made Garron's blood freeze. He could respect that. Any person that could bring forth fear from a single word was by right a very powerful person, or at least intimating. Sometimes Garron wished he could emulate such a response. But he was fine with working harder for what he wanted. "Come along Draco." The boy beside him stood up in an instant. "Garron, you as well." Garron obeyed without a second thought. He really needed to learn how to speak like that. "We have the bank to go visit."

They turned and faced a large ornate building. It was tilted on three axis's and it's crooked shape gave way to huge fissures in the stark white marble. It was the strangest place Garron had seen in his life, including the last few hours. On the North face of the building a gigantic gilded sign read: Gringott's Bank.