Novocain

Welcome to Hogwarts

Platform 9 3/4 was quickly becoming the most crowded place Garron had ever seen. People were gathered in every available crevice, bunched around their own children in small, compact huddles. Carts upon carts were piled everywhere next to their owners, towers of belongings almost toppling from their own height. Garron had lost count of how many mothers he'd seen in the last 10 meters alone grab onto their children and burst into tears. Pathetic, he thought for a moment with disdain, At least they're not muggles. Draco tugged onto his robes, pulling Garron into the smaller boy's side - Ambrose hissed at the sudden yanking.

"Come on we're going to be late!" Draco's voice was tight with excitement. Garron smiled internally at his brother's antics. Inside, the raven haired boy was just as excited for Hogwarts as Draco was, perhaps even more. Garron had been in the wizarding world for almost four years now, he'd quickly become accustomed to the mannerisms and the wonder of it all. That had just been the frivolity of every day life. He'd seen the manor, Gringott's, and Diagon Alley more times than he could count - but he'd never even glimpsed Hogwarts. Sure, He'd scoured Hogwarts: A History more times than he truly needed, especially with his memory, but books can only get a person so far in life. Experiencing is what truly made your power. The more one sees and does the more knowledge they accumulate. Knowledge is power, and I will be the most powerful wizard there ever was, Dark Lord or not. All for the sake of magic and Her Lady's gifts.

There was a brief moment, after they had gotten their Hogwarts letters, that Garron had pondered over which house he would be in. Lucius had told him his birth parents had both been Gryffindors. It was noble of them, sure, but it got them killed in the end. Garron would not meet their fate, not unless it was in the plan. Hufflepuff was out of the question completely, he was not loyal to anyone outside of his own blood. He wouldn't label the house poorly though, loyalty does not equal stupidity. Besides, those who give their loyalty would have to understand the dangers of blind faith and the risks of trust. Ravenclaw was a solid contender. Garron treasured knowledge, and knew that he would be perfectly comfortable there, surrounded by intellects like his own. However, they would let their curiosity get the better of them. Slytherin was the only true place for him. Power is what he needed, not friends. He needed to be around individuals whose ambition matched his own. Well, a little less than his own. He doubted any other eleven year old was planning ritualistic sacrifices to ancient deities to get ahead. If they were he'd be concerned, as close to concerned as he could get really. Eleven years old and while he may have gotten good at mimicking emotions he still couldn't truly grasp them, or feel them for that matter. That was an issue for another time, another place, another moment alone with the voices. Briefly, he wondered if there were a letter addressed to Harry Potter somewhere, as his own read Garron Malfoy-Black. He would find out soon enough.

The two brothers and their parents stopped just before the first car of the train, the boy's own luggage towered above their own heads. Ambrose coiled tighter around Garron's neck, making a fuss about all the ways the snake would love to maim the needlessly noisy children around them. Lucius looked down at his two sons, marveling in how they looked against one another. The perfect show of ying and yang. Draco's light coloring clashing against Garron's darkness. The Malfoy heir and the young Lord Black looked the perfect pair of pureblood progeny. Garron had worked hard for the proud look in Lucius's eyes and he reveled in it. Phase one: complete. Onto Phase two. Garron and Draco were wrapped up in Narcissa's arms not even a moment later, the embrace lasted only for a second but the emotion and intent were there.

"You boys will make a fine addition to Slytherin." Her voice was cool, but Garron knew the affection behind the tone. They were in public after all, no proper witch would show so much emotion. It was plebeian. "You will write to your father and I every week, no exceptions." It wasn't a request.