Mr Goyle wasn't a man of many words. But his wife was. Well, a woman of many words, of course.
"Really, can you believe it? They were all sitting outside around that thing, making a horrible racket. Laughing and shouting –you could have heard them all the way down the street! No manners, really, it´s disgusting!"
Mr Goyle grunted before taking a second help of the mashed potatoes.
"And their children! Playing with those abnormal things, beeping and flashing and whatnot! Well, what can you expect with parents like these! That´s no upbringing a child, I tell you. A good beating would probably get them to show some respect."
Mr Goyle thought fondly of his own son. The occasional trashing had done him good, he had learned to obey and follow orders without questions. He might even have learnt how and where to hit so it would hurt most. All very valuable and useful things to have learnt.
"But it perhaps wouldn't matter anyway. The abnormality runs in the blood, I say, they simply aren't like us."
Mr Goyle knew she was right. Lucius had said so as well. And of course the Dark Lord. Mr Goyle knew he was not the brightest but Lucius had always been the one with the highest marks in school. If he said this abnormality couldn´t be cured it must be true.
"And this thing! They were cooking on it! Out in the garden! And it didn't have any fire, Merlin knows how it worked."
Mr Goyle didn't understand it either. If truth were told he was a bit frightened by it. Never would he be able to learn to use one of those- those things. He simply wasn't clever enough for it, he knew. Maybe Lucius could. But of course Lucius was too noble to do something like this.
Mr Goyle was quite grateful for people like Lucius. It was people like Mr Goyle who would never understand the strange things and be left behind. And people like Lucius surely could use them, but because they didn't Mr Goyle wasn't left behind.
"And then they saw me –I was out in our garden to water the flowers. Of course I would never want to meet them or to see them –and that woman had the audacity to ask if I wanted to join them! As if I would ever eat anything they had cooked on that horrible thing!"
Mr Goyle shuddered sympathetically. He liked food. But eat something they had made? On one of their things? You never knew what you might catch. That abnormality was probably contagious. It was bad enough to live near them. Mr Goyle frowned as he thought about what influence their mere presence next door might have on his family.
"And she told me they would build a greenhouse in the backyard, apparently her husband has gotten another pay rise. Really, as if they can do anything that´s worth any money!"
Mr Goyle remained silent. Money was always a touchy subject. Stacking goods in the warehouses in Knockturn Alley wasn't that well paid. Generally he didn't mind –Mr Goyle could care for his family and that´s what had always counted for him.
"And a greenhouse! Just to show off! As if a they hadn't already build their houses all over the place!"
When Mr Goyle had married his wife they had moved in the house of his parents –a nice, little house in the countryside, away from all prying Muggle eyes. But in the last years money had become an issue.
"They even invited more of those freaks over for lunch. It´s so disgusting, really, as if one of these horrible families wasn't enough!"
Mr Goyle remembered well how the situation had changed over the years. Their home really was in a lovely part of the country. At first- and relatively far away- there was only one cottage, barely noticeable from the Goyle's house –and then they had kept springing up like mushrooms after the rain. More and more, and nearer and nearer, until the Goyle's home was surrounded.
"Why we have to endure them I don´t know! It´s time someone does something about them! It´s simply not right!"
Mr Goyle had written to the Ministry when the first houses were built. The Ministry had answered two years later, when there were about fifteen houses. Then they had said that it would be too much trouble to keep everyone away and modify their memories. Mr Goyle and his family should just be nice to them and fit in.
They could not afford to move away and buy another house, they could not sell their house to Muggles –never in their lifetime would they get rid of all the enchantments and spells on the house to make it fit for Muggles move in. And what wizard would want to live here? Constantly hiding their magic, -it was a shame, really, for any respectable wizard.
"They should get back to where they came from –here is no place for them, we don´t want them! We were here long before them! Thank Merlin this is about to change – soon we'll be rid of them. Maybe we could even get some decent people for neighbours –"
Mr Goyle flinched and grabbed his left arm.
"-What is it? Do you have another meeting?"
Mr Goyle nodded and pushed his empty plate away.
"Here, take that recipe with you, it´s for Martha, I promised to send her my apple pie recipe. Her husband will be there, won't he? He shall just take it home for her."
Mr Goyle took the recipe and eyed his own dessert sadly. Of course Mr Crabbe would be there. His friend always was.
"Then you'd better go, you wouldn't want to be late. I'll keep an eye on them. –I just wish they would behave like normal people, like us –why can't they go meet their friends in the evening like you, darling? Instead they watch that weird flickering thing with the moving pictures. I bet it´s really harmful."
Mr Goyle grunted approving and glanced a last time over to their neighbours. The man was pushing some growling thing over the garden, always back and forth.
"Freaks," Mr Goyle said, and apparated away.