"Damn it, you can't do this! I am head of the family now, and yet I don't have a say in the matter?!" Gregory Goyle raged, his eyes blazing with anger and hatred for the woman in front of him. The woman who had hexed him, hit him, called him stupid, lazy, ugly, fat, not worth his pureblood status: Irma Goyle, his mother.
"Actually, you do not gain full control until you're 21, dear, or until your miserable father dies. Anyway, she's lucky she is just being sent to the muggle world. If this were even just 50 years ago she would have been the victim of an 'accident,''" his mother insinuated with a condescending sneer.
His eyes widened in disbelief. "You would have your own daughter killed?"
"Nobody would have looked too deeply into it. She is just another failure. Worse than you, even. You at least have magic. The only reason she wasn't disposed of earlier was because your father was an old fool. He held out hope she would produce magic later as you did, but her eleventh birthday was two days ago, and she did not receive a Hogwarts letter. It is official: she is a filthy squib. Now that it's proven she has no magic, and with your father, Merlin knows where, I can be rid of her at last." Her voice was cold and her eyes hard. If he didn't know better, he would have thought she was discussing a stray dog rather than her daughter, for all the emotion she displayed.
"She is still a Goyle, and under my protection. I say she stays," Gregory gritted out through clenched teeth.
"True. She is a Goyle by blood, but my parental rights come before the Goyle house since she is not an heir."
"You are no parent. You're just a heartless bitch!"
Greg paced the room furiously, his mind racing as he tried to take in the severity of the whole fucked up situation. It was true, his sister was a squib. It had been obvious from a young age that she was, and as a result, she was ignored by their mother as if she didn't exist. She wasn't given new clothes or allowed a tutor after the age of seven, when the instructors began to whisper about her lack of skill. She couldn't leave the manor, not even to attend dinner parties, for fear she would try to mingle with the other pureblooded children and draw attention to her "deformity."
He was treated only slightly better than his sister, purely on account of the fact that he was magical and the heir to the Goyle estate. His private lessons continued until starting Hogwarts, however, his tutors were constantly frustrated with his troubles at reading and writing. They didn't understand why he was so slow to learn, and frequently used corporal punishment in an effort to encourage Greg to read and write faster. When his mother heard of the lack of progress, she let Greg know how displeased she was. All they managed to do was make him more anxious every time he stepped foot into a classroom setting. Still, at least he was actually given meals and allowed to eat with the family. As heir, he was also provided the opportunity to take dance and etiquette lessons with his peers, and he at least could escape their oppressive mother's grasp by spending as much time at Crabbe or Malfoy manor as he could get away with.
All in all, the house elves were probably the only reason Lena was even still alive, as they were the ones who fed and cared for her. They had never explicitly been told not to, and so long as they kept her out of sight, the Goyles had been content to let them deal with the girl. Really, it was better that way for Lena because on the rare occasion their mother did take notice of her, she ended up in bed for days afterwards while the elves healed her injuries.
When Greg was home for the holidays, he always made sure he kept the attention on himself, taking the brunt of the verbal and physical blows to protect his little sister. When the abuse was bad enough to warrant a healer, Lena would assist the elves herself. St. Mungo's or a healer was never called upon for either child.
His father never stopped the abuse or got his children help, but he never actively participated. Goyle Sr. cared more about drinking, paying for women in Knockturn Alley, and running with his Death Eater friends.
He turned back to his mother, who sat primly in the high back chair in front of what was now his desk and what was now his study. She looked every bit the pureblood woman: perfect makeup, freshly manicured nails, custom-tailored robes, and not one raven lock out of place. Her expression was one of schooled indifference as she observed her son's anguish.
"Let me keep her. Adopt her. You can go away with what I have put in a vault for you, and you never have to see us again." Greg's voice lost some anger and became almost pleading.
"Why do you care so much about a squib?" The former Madame Goyle furrowed her brows in true confusion. "This will be a stain on your house."
"As if Father didn't already disgrace this house by divorcing you and becoming a fugitive after the war, leaving both of us to clean up his messes? No, you want to be rid of her because she is a stain on you. This represents a failure for you. I, on the other hand, care because she is my sister. I care because she has cared about me when nobody else did. I care because I love her. She's family." Greg's chest was heaving by the end of his impassioned speech, and he willed his mother to let him win, to see reason, for once in her miserable life.
His mother scoffed, "Where did you learn that rubbish? Love is for fools and family is about upholding your duty. Our family must stay pure, for the sake of our honor." The former Madam Goyle rose from the chair and smoothed out her robes. "I will return in one week for the girl. Have her ready to go with plenty of warm clothes. I hear it gets cold on the streets of London at night." She smirked and walked towards the door. "Oh and son, if you try to hide her, I will have you thrown in Azkaban for kidnapping." She paused before sighing, "It's a shame that Vincent boy died, he would have made a far better heir than you." With that final, cutting remark, she walked out the door, leaving Greg to stew in his frustration and disbelief.
Roaring with anger, Gregory grabbed the nearest object and hurled it where she last stood, taking great pleasure in the resounding crack of porcelain that followed as it shattered against the wall and fell to pieces on the mahogany floor. His happiness was short-lived, however, as he realized that he only had a week left to find some way to save Lena before she was lost to him forever.
He collapsed into his father's former chair, hung his head in his hands, and began to weep.