Written for the Twelve Days of Christmas Challenge (4/4 Houses - Slytherin)
Written for the Character Pyramid Challenge (Gregory Goyle; genre: tragedy)
The Tragic Life of Gregory Goyle
He really couldn't read. His parents had never taught him a single word, and by the time he reached Hogwarts it was too late. Teachers assumed it was a given that every student in the school had the ability to put two words together.
Gregory had the ability to put one together.
He truly wasn't that bright, but it wasn't his fault.
It all started from when he was about two. Gregory didn't remember it, but he had heard the stories. His parents had been followers of the Dark Lord. Now that he was gone they still spoke highly of the man who had killed so many innocent people. Gregory was educated, definitely, but not as his peers were educated.
The Goyles didn't put much value on reading and writing (Gregory often wondered if they could read themselves); they put value on education in different forms.
Gregory remembered his lessons on Pureblood supremacy better than anything else. Three times a week he would be sat down and made to look at pictures in the paper, or in books, about the status of Mudbloods in society. He was brainwashed so heavily as a child that as he grew older it was virtually impossible for him to change his mind.
By school age it was definitely too late. His ways were set and he was made to make friends with Draco Malfoy. The boy would do him good, they said.
It was there he met Vincent Crabbe. Vincent was as bright as Gregory, and had had as much informal education as Gregory had also. The two boys were like two peas in a pod; from families who put great value on their Pureblood beliefs and little on anything else. It wasn't hard to see that they were almost identical.
From their first meeting at Hogwarts (for they had met outside of school before) Draco treated them as if they were his personal servants. They would do his bidding, too, because that was what their families told them to do.
The Goyles and the Crabbes needed the Malfoys to increase their reputation. What better way would there be, than for their sons to become 'friends'?
The boys may not have had much intellect upon starting school, but they had feelings; and they were smart in other areas. They knew when they were being used.
And Draco used them like rags to mop a floor.
…
Gregory didn't have a problem with beating up those smaller than him. In fact, he rather enjoyed it. It was probably his favourite part about being at school, considering he didn't do too well in the subject area.
Hurting those weaker and smaller than him brought him power. He enjoyed watching the fear in their eyes, and the terror when little first years saw him and Vincent coming their way.
He only hurt those Mudbloods, though. They deserved it. That was what his parents had taught him anyway.
…
It was in fourth year when he first started having 'feelings'. At first he didn't recognise them as such, and thought that because they had spent so much time together their friendship was simply going stronger.
He still didn't recognise it when butterflies grew in his stomach when they were alone together. It was peaceful without Draco around; they could be themselves.
He didn't like these funny feelings. They weren't right.
…
It was safe to say that by seventh year Gregory had made a choice. Well, his family had made a choice for him. He would fight with the Dark Lord. He was a Goyle and helping those Mudbloods was a crime in its own right. He would not be sent to Azkaban for it, but he would be shamed by his family.
So Gregory held his wand firmly as he duelled. He had quite mastered that aspect of wizardry. He was a fine dueller.
Vincent fought beside him, side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder, each determined to keep the other alive.
Together, they shot down one of the others.
A life lost, probably innocent.
"Nice one, Greg!" Vincent exclaimed.
Gregory gave a soft, satisfied smile. "Thanks," was all he had time to say. They had another battle to fight.
They hurried around the corner, but it was empty. There was no one. Vincent stopped, turning to face the one man who he could trust.
Gregory looked on, curious.
"If we die tonight," Vincent began. "If we die…." The young man swallowed, as if what he wanted to say was a struggle.
"Yes?" Gregory asked.
"If we die… I need you to know." The man stepped forward, closer and closer he moved, until he was but a hair's width from Gregory.
Gregory's breath caught, catching when rough lips were pressed against his own.
It wasn't a long kiss, but it was pleasant.
Vincent stepped back. "If we die tonight, at least I'll die happy," he said.
…
Gregory had not predicted it. He had not though that Vincent's words would ring true. Not for one of them.
He wept over the man's body, singed and almost unrecognisable. Tears rolled freely down his cheeks. He didn't even weep for the bodies of his parents that lay nearby.
It was Draco who first approached him. He didn't say anything, simply put a hand on Gregory's shoulder and left again.
There were no sides right now.
Just grief.
…
Gregory lived to be eighty-six, but it was not a happy eighty-six years.
He never married, he never had children, and he was never happy again.
He remembered that sole moment of happiness he had felt when Vincent had kissed him. He had not known love quite like it.
Ever since, his life had been a misery.
As he sat as a greying man in a house far away from civilisation, he bowed his head.
He would die alone, and his life would be a circle.
He had been born unhappy, and alone; and he would die the same.
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