"Loyalty Of A Death Eater"
A Harry Potter Fanfic
By Brandon League
(Brnleague@aol.com)
Summary-Albert Goyle, a former Death Eater, thinks about the past and the future as he prepares for Lord Voldemort's return. Takes place during Goblet Of Fire.
Legalities-Harry Potter and all his pals (and enemies) belong to that British goddess, J.K. Rowling. However, since no first name for Crabbe and Goyle's fathers has ever been given, I invented a couple! Now hurry up and release book five, J.K.!!!!!!!
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"Master. Your return draws near..."
The robed figure stood unmoving, staring down at the blood red tattoo that graced his forearm. It was HIS sign, the sign of the Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort. It had been thirteen years since he had seen his old Master; thirteen long years since he had knelt before Voldemort and extended his hand, to receive the Dark Mark on his arm. His eyes flashed as the memories swept over him like water. We were the Death Eaters, the loyal soldiers of Voldemort. Master was all-powerful back then and everyone knew it. Those were the days. Carnage and mayhem were the order of the day. Everywhere you looked, witches and wizards trembled in fear and cowered at the very mention of his Master's name.
Albert Goyle threw back his hood and chuckled, a truly trollish sound if ever there was one. He may not have been the smartest wizard on Earth, but even he knew that he was on the right side. When our Master returns, we, his loyal servants will rise up and conquer. Like his Master, Goyle wanted to see nothing more than Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in flames, to see Albus Dumbledore on the ground, writhing in the Cruciatus Curse. Goyle smiled as he pictured all the intelligent young Slytherins marching over the hill to take their rightful place amongst the Death Eaters. There was Lucius Malfoy's son Draco, Armand Crabbe's son Vincent and of course, his boy Gregory.
The elder Goyle beamed as he thought of his son. The boy was stout, beefy, and thick-necked, almost a carbon copy of his father at that age. Too bad he never picked up Quidditch. He'd have made a hell of a Beater. Goyle turned and ascended the stairs, shutting the basement door behind him. His thoughts turned back to the Dark Mark on his arm. It hadn't been this bright since Voldemort vanished, any day now...it would burn black and it would be time to apparate to him. He wondered if all of the old Death Eaters would return. Even Albert Goyle was not so dim as to miss the fact that times had changed. With their Master gone, he wondered who would be loyal and who would turn traitor. He knew that Lucius and Armand were loyal; he knew that he was loyal, and the Lestranges...the Lestranges had been so loyal, they had gone to Azkaban rather than renounce Lord Voldemort. He frowned as he remembered that he and Crabbe had very nearly shared the same fate. They too had gone to court as "suspected" Death Eaters but they had both been cleared.
However...there was one that Goyle knew was disloyal. Igor Karkaroff.
Both of Albert Goyle's hands formed unconsciously into fists. He shook with rage as he remembered what he had heard from a good pal in the Ministry of Magic, how Karkaroff had named names and handed good, loyal, Death Eaters over to the Ministry, just to get his worthless carcass out of Azkaban. Traitor. Karkaroff had even tried to give him to the Ministry, but he had already been cleared. Goyle hoped and prayed that his Master allowed him the honor and the privilege of choking the life out of that miserable son of a hippogriff. Goyle smiled coldly as he thought about tearing Karkaroff's arms off and then putting the Cruciatus Curse on him, and as Karkaroff twitched and screamed in agony, slowly bleeding to death, he, Goyle, would offer the arms to Voldemort as a gift. Yes, you betray our Master and you will pay the price. He...
A slight noise behind him made him start, but it was only his wife, Carmilla. Goyle gave a happy sort of grunt, and lifted her up in a tremendous hug. He sat her down and gave her a once over. He and Carmilla had been married for seventeen years and she still made him weak in the knees. He found himself thinking back to the old days when they had been in Slytherin House at Hogwarts together, before they had both pledged their lives to Voldemort, and it made him smile. He loved her just as much now as he had then. Carmilla kissed her husband on the cheek and nuzzled him lightly with her piglike nose, before looking at him expectantly. He grinned at her and pulled up the sleeve on his robe, revealing the blood-red tattoo. She looked at him, and burst into an almost insane cackle, once again throwing her arms around her stocky husband.
"It is true then, Albert? Our Master is returning to us?"
"Yes, dearest. He will call for me soon."
"I expected no less. My crystal ball never lies."
Goyle snorted. Divination had been his wife's best subject, years ago at Hogwarts, and she was always and forever sitting in front of her crystal ball in the attic, making one prediction or another. Sometimes they came to pass, and sometimes they were a load of bunk. However, he knew how proud she was of her Divination skills and he didn't quite have the nerve to flat out denounce her "talent." The last time he had, she had transfigured him into a chicken, and Albert Goyle did not want to spend any more time laying eggs. Seriously though, it was a shame that Carmilla had never received her own Dark Mark from Lord Voldemort. The day before four new Death Eaters, his wife among them, were to be inducted, Voldemort had paid a visit to the Potter household...and everyone knew how that had turned out.
A day didn't go by that Albert Goyle didn't think about the day that his Master disappeared. He remembered leaning against a tree in the old graveyard, idly scratching the side of his face as he waited patiently for his Master to come out of the old house. He had no idea, what Lord Voldemort had planned for the evening, and he didn't dare ask. If his Master wanted him to know, he would tell him. It wasn't his place to question his Master. Besides, he didn't fancy writhing on the ground in the Cruciatus Curse...again. He would rather go one on one with a dragon, than risk his Master's rage. All he knew was that Lord Voldemort had requested his presence, and you didn't refuse Lord Voldemort. That was, if you wanted to remain healthy. Albert Goyle knew better than to take his chances.
As quick as a heartbeat...Lord Voldemort was beside him.
"Goyle," he whispered. "I see you are as punctual as ever."
"Yes, Master."
Voldemort wasted no time or words, he got to the point. "I am going to take care of a bit of personal business. Find Malfoy and Crabbe, and meet me at 424 Rosewood Street in Muggle London in one hour. Do NOT be late, Goyle..."
His Master disapparated and that was the last time Goyle ever saw him.
On his way to the address with Malfoy and Crabbe, they discovered what had happened in the Potter house. At first, Goyle couldn't believe it! There was no way that a mere baby could have defeated Lord Voldemort! However it was true. In the days and weeks that followed, the Ministry's Aurors practically declared war on the Death Eaters. He saw his friends killed and imprisoned by the dozens. Goyle took a breath as he realized just how lucky he was that he wasn't rotting away in Azkaban. He was lucky that his friend Lucius Malfoy had some powerful friends in the Ministry Of Magic...and he had made some powerful donations to St. Mungo's Hospital For Magical Maladies And Injuries.
With an evil smile, Goyle came back to the present. He walked down the hall and came to a small locked room. He took out his wand and grunted "Alohomora." The door sprang open and Albert Goyle walked inside. It was completely bare, save for three things. On the wall hung a cracked, ancient Foe Glass that he had inherited from his father. He knew it was a little foolish, but he checked it daily, just to make sure that no one knew where his true loyalties lay. Next to it, hung a family portrait. Albert smirked at the picture, in which he, his wife and their son, Gregory smirked back at him. Ah, don't we make a handsome bunch, he thought happily. Finally, his eyes fell on a corner of the bright green carpet, and he hurried over and pulled back the torn edge, revealing the trapdoor. He opened it and reached down into the small crawlspace, pulling out a small chest. With a grunt, Albert Goyle hefted the chest out of the gloom and dropped it onto the floor. He reached into his robes and pulled out a large, silver key, which he used to unlock the chest.
A dark, almost insane, smile lit Albert Goyle's face as he withdrew a set of black robes and a sinister-looking white mask, the uniform of a Death Eater. He hadn't worn them in over a decade, but nonetheless, he discovered that they fit him perfectly. He held the mask in his hand, looking at it as though hypnotized. Soon, he thought, as he pulled the mask over his head. Soon his Master would return, and these weak and soft Muggle-loving sods like Albus Dumbledore and Arthur Weasley would be cast aside and broken in the dirt, like the vermin they were. Not only that, but he would play a part in his Master's great design. It was wonderful. It was brilliant. It was...burning.
Albert Goyle dropped to one knee, grabbing his left arm with a howl. Shaking, he lifted up the sleeve of his Death Eater robes and stared in shock at his Dark Mark. It had been burned black. That meant...
"It's time," he grunted. "I'm coming, Master."
He disapparated.
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End Notes-Well, what do you think? This is my second Harry Potter fanfic and YES, I had a blast writing it! Ever since I finished Goblet Of Fire, and saw that Goyle's father was indeed a Death Eater, this story has been floating around in my head. What can I say? I finally got around to using a Pensieve. I hope you like it. Feel free to review it. Positive, negative or indifferent output is welcome. But, please, no death threats or marriage proposals, as I will accept NEITHER. Enjoy!
A Harry Potter Fanfic
By Brandon League
(Brnleague@aol.com)
Summary-Albert Goyle, a former Death Eater, thinks about the past and the future as he prepares for Lord Voldemort's return. Takes place during Goblet Of Fire.
Legalities-Harry Potter and all his pals (and enemies) belong to that British goddess, J.K. Rowling. However, since no first name for Crabbe and Goyle's fathers has ever been given, I invented a couple! Now hurry up and release book five, J.K.!!!!!!!
-------------------------------------
"Master. Your return draws near..."
The robed figure stood unmoving, staring down at the blood red tattoo that graced his forearm. It was HIS sign, the sign of the Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort. It had been thirteen years since he had seen his old Master; thirteen long years since he had knelt before Voldemort and extended his hand, to receive the Dark Mark on his arm. His eyes flashed as the memories swept over him like water. We were the Death Eaters, the loyal soldiers of Voldemort. Master was all-powerful back then and everyone knew it. Those were the days. Carnage and mayhem were the order of the day. Everywhere you looked, witches and wizards trembled in fear and cowered at the very mention of his Master's name.
Albert Goyle threw back his hood and chuckled, a truly trollish sound if ever there was one. He may not have been the smartest wizard on Earth, but even he knew that he was on the right side. When our Master returns, we, his loyal servants will rise up and conquer. Like his Master, Goyle wanted to see nothing more than Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in flames, to see Albus Dumbledore on the ground, writhing in the Cruciatus Curse. Goyle smiled as he pictured all the intelligent young Slytherins marching over the hill to take their rightful place amongst the Death Eaters. There was Lucius Malfoy's son Draco, Armand Crabbe's son Vincent and of course, his boy Gregory.
The elder Goyle beamed as he thought of his son. The boy was stout, beefy, and thick-necked, almost a carbon copy of his father at that age. Too bad he never picked up Quidditch. He'd have made a hell of a Beater. Goyle turned and ascended the stairs, shutting the basement door behind him. His thoughts turned back to the Dark Mark on his arm. It hadn't been this bright since Voldemort vanished, any day now...it would burn black and it would be time to apparate to him. He wondered if all of the old Death Eaters would return. Even Albert Goyle was not so dim as to miss the fact that times had changed. With their Master gone, he wondered who would be loyal and who would turn traitor. He knew that Lucius and Armand were loyal; he knew that he was loyal, and the Lestranges...the Lestranges had been so loyal, they had gone to Azkaban rather than renounce Lord Voldemort. He frowned as he remembered that he and Crabbe had very nearly shared the same fate. They too had gone to court as "suspected" Death Eaters but they had both been cleared.
However...there was one that Goyle knew was disloyal. Igor Karkaroff.
Both of Albert Goyle's hands formed unconsciously into fists. He shook with rage as he remembered what he had heard from a good pal in the Ministry of Magic, how Karkaroff had named names and handed good, loyal, Death Eaters over to the Ministry, just to get his worthless carcass out of Azkaban. Traitor. Karkaroff had even tried to give him to the Ministry, but he had already been cleared. Goyle hoped and prayed that his Master allowed him the honor and the privilege of choking the life out of that miserable son of a hippogriff. Goyle smiled coldly as he thought about tearing Karkaroff's arms off and then putting the Cruciatus Curse on him, and as Karkaroff twitched and screamed in agony, slowly bleeding to death, he, Goyle, would offer the arms to Voldemort as a gift. Yes, you betray our Master and you will pay the price. He...
A slight noise behind him made him start, but it was only his wife, Carmilla. Goyle gave a happy sort of grunt, and lifted her up in a tremendous hug. He sat her down and gave her a once over. He and Carmilla had been married for seventeen years and she still made him weak in the knees. He found himself thinking back to the old days when they had been in Slytherin House at Hogwarts together, before they had both pledged their lives to Voldemort, and it made him smile. He loved her just as much now as he had then. Carmilla kissed her husband on the cheek and nuzzled him lightly with her piglike nose, before looking at him expectantly. He grinned at her and pulled up the sleeve on his robe, revealing the blood-red tattoo. She looked at him, and burst into an almost insane cackle, once again throwing her arms around her stocky husband.
"It is true then, Albert? Our Master is returning to us?"
"Yes, dearest. He will call for me soon."
"I expected no less. My crystal ball never lies."
Goyle snorted. Divination had been his wife's best subject, years ago at Hogwarts, and she was always and forever sitting in front of her crystal ball in the attic, making one prediction or another. Sometimes they came to pass, and sometimes they were a load of bunk. However, he knew how proud she was of her Divination skills and he didn't quite have the nerve to flat out denounce her "talent." The last time he had, she had transfigured him into a chicken, and Albert Goyle did not want to spend any more time laying eggs. Seriously though, it was a shame that Carmilla had never received her own Dark Mark from Lord Voldemort. The day before four new Death Eaters, his wife among them, were to be inducted, Voldemort had paid a visit to the Potter household...and everyone knew how that had turned out.
A day didn't go by that Albert Goyle didn't think about the day that his Master disappeared. He remembered leaning against a tree in the old graveyard, idly scratching the side of his face as he waited patiently for his Master to come out of the old house. He had no idea, what Lord Voldemort had planned for the evening, and he didn't dare ask. If his Master wanted him to know, he would tell him. It wasn't his place to question his Master. Besides, he didn't fancy writhing on the ground in the Cruciatus Curse...again. He would rather go one on one with a dragon, than risk his Master's rage. All he knew was that Lord Voldemort had requested his presence, and you didn't refuse Lord Voldemort. That was, if you wanted to remain healthy. Albert Goyle knew better than to take his chances.
As quick as a heartbeat...Lord Voldemort was beside him.
"Goyle," he whispered. "I see you are as punctual as ever."
"Yes, Master."
Voldemort wasted no time or words, he got to the point. "I am going to take care of a bit of personal business. Find Malfoy and Crabbe, and meet me at 424 Rosewood Street in Muggle London in one hour. Do NOT be late, Goyle..."
His Master disapparated and that was the last time Goyle ever saw him.
On his way to the address with Malfoy and Crabbe, they discovered what had happened in the Potter house. At first, Goyle couldn't believe it! There was no way that a mere baby could have defeated Lord Voldemort! However it was true. In the days and weeks that followed, the Ministry's Aurors practically declared war on the Death Eaters. He saw his friends killed and imprisoned by the dozens. Goyle took a breath as he realized just how lucky he was that he wasn't rotting away in Azkaban. He was lucky that his friend Lucius Malfoy had some powerful friends in the Ministry Of Magic...and he had made some powerful donations to St. Mungo's Hospital For Magical Maladies And Injuries.
With an evil smile, Goyle came back to the present. He walked down the hall and came to a small locked room. He took out his wand and grunted "Alohomora." The door sprang open and Albert Goyle walked inside. It was completely bare, save for three things. On the wall hung a cracked, ancient Foe Glass that he had inherited from his father. He knew it was a little foolish, but he checked it daily, just to make sure that no one knew where his true loyalties lay. Next to it, hung a family portrait. Albert smirked at the picture, in which he, his wife and their son, Gregory smirked back at him. Ah, don't we make a handsome bunch, he thought happily. Finally, his eyes fell on a corner of the bright green carpet, and he hurried over and pulled back the torn edge, revealing the trapdoor. He opened it and reached down into the small crawlspace, pulling out a small chest. With a grunt, Albert Goyle hefted the chest out of the gloom and dropped it onto the floor. He reached into his robes and pulled out a large, silver key, which he used to unlock the chest.
A dark, almost insane, smile lit Albert Goyle's face as he withdrew a set of black robes and a sinister-looking white mask, the uniform of a Death Eater. He hadn't worn them in over a decade, but nonetheless, he discovered that they fit him perfectly. He held the mask in his hand, looking at it as though hypnotized. Soon, he thought, as he pulled the mask over his head. Soon his Master would return, and these weak and soft Muggle-loving sods like Albus Dumbledore and Arthur Weasley would be cast aside and broken in the dirt, like the vermin they were. Not only that, but he would play a part in his Master's great design. It was wonderful. It was brilliant. It was...burning.
Albert Goyle dropped to one knee, grabbing his left arm with a howl. Shaking, he lifted up the sleeve of his Death Eater robes and stared in shock at his Dark Mark. It had been burned black. That meant...
"It's time," he grunted. "I'm coming, Master."
He disapparated.
------------------------------------
End Notes-Well, what do you think? This is my second Harry Potter fanfic and YES, I had a blast writing it! Ever since I finished Goblet Of Fire, and saw that Goyle's father was indeed a Death Eater, this story has been floating around in my head. What can I say? I finally got around to using a Pensieve. I hope you like it. Feel free to review it. Positive, negative or indifferent output is welcome. But, please, no death threats or marriage proposals, as I will accept NEITHER. Enjoy!