Greg used to hear his dad talk about the Goyle name and legacy and all that rot, but he'd've been the first to laugh at being called Old Money. The Malfoys were old money, the Goyles were just always around the Malfoys. But heritage and ancestry and that rot wasn't of much interest to Greg. All he knew about Goyles came from the things his dad would tell him about himself. Goyles were meant to be strong and tough and look after their betters, and get rid of anyone was lesser. Bloody rot, all of it. Greg was the first to know his name wasn't worth a bloody thing.
He chuckled at Percy's words, which caught him by surprise. "I kept a low profile by getting the hell out of the Wizarding World, mate. Er...Per...Mr. Weasley." He shrugged. "I'm as good as a Muggle these days. Wasn't nothing left for me back in the Wizard World." He took another swallow of his drink, feeling the warmth in his chest and wondering when the last time he ate was. Drinking might not've been the best idea. "Don't worry, I don't figure anyone around here was waiting for my giant arse to show up."