A/N: Done for the After the War competition with the character Gregory Goyle.

Gregory Goyle sat down on his bed in his new, two-bed roomed house. It was a far cry from the large, roomy, comfortable house that he had been living in since his birth. Their new home was small, had creaky floorboards, and a thin roof. Sometimes, it would even start leaking water if it rained hard enough. But Gregory wasn't thinking about the house. No, he was thinking about the war and Azkaban, and his deceased friend Vincent Crabbe.

It was about a week after the Battle of Hogwarts. Voldemort had fallen, to Potter of all people, and all the Death Eaters were being rounded up and escorted to Azkaban. His father included. He had watched as his father had spat and curse as the Aurors forcefully opened the door and tried to take him by surprise and immobilize him. They had been eating dinner, and all Gregory could think at that time was that he was glad he hadn't been made a Death Eater yet. (He wondered why Draco didn't get sent there too.)

As Gregory stared blankly down at his loosely clasped hands, he felt anger and regret surge up through him. Why did they have to run after Potter? So they could have the glory of presenting him to Voldemort? So they could finally be something other than lackeys? What did they get from all that?

Nothing.

Gregory could still recall the surprise on Potters face as they intercepted him from whatever it was that he was doing. How they started shooting curses and everything was so confusing and then he saw the fire (that terribleterrible monster was going to kill him and he was so scaredscaredscared) that was consuming the whole room, and nothing could escape him. It was then he wondered what he was doing with his life. He remembered the feeling of hopelessness and the vague shouting of Draco as he told him to keep moving and not to stop as they climbed a mountain of junk.

And then, suddenly, he was airborne. It was Granger that clutched his shirt tightly and he turned to see that Potter had grabbed Draco. Suddenly, he heard a tortured cry and he realized that Vincent was in the flames and ohmygod it's eating him. That memory was forever seared in his brain. The pained cry of his friend as his lower body was being charred and blackened and how his eyes rolled back into his head as the light in them disappeared.

He was gone. Forever. Never to be seen again.

Vincent had no more future, no more dreams or hope or goals.

Gregory jerked to his feet and sprinted to the bathroom as he heaved his breakfast up. And as he lay there, panting and getting his bearings, he realized that he was still alive. Sure, his life wasn't that great right now, but he was alive. And he would make the most of that.

Gregory stood shakily, now determined. He would apologize to Potter and Granger and Weasley when he saw them.

He was finally going to get his life back on track.