Father Goyle and the Confessional of Memories

He sat on the uncomfortable wooden chair as usual, hoping this one would finish faster than the last two. On the other hand, the Bundt sisters were quite funny to listen to. They were nutty old ladies, twins, that shared a house at the outskirts of the village. All they ever confessed was their sudden desire to strangle the chicken for not producing enough eggs.

With a small smile at the memory of their last ten-minutes-rant of repent, father Goyle directed his full attention to the person he was with now. As far as he could tell from the color of the hair, a woman.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned." Father Goyle jumped. It was not a woman at all. It was a man. An old acquaintance of his.

"I have commited murder, deliberately and repeatedly." Yes, he certainly knew who the man was.

"Continue."

"I have killed fifty-three men, forty women and ten children at the order of my master. These I have killed without any reason except their blood. Also, I have killed innumerable others in fight."

"More or less than a hundred?" the Father asked unfazed.

"I think more."

"So the total is somewhere between...?"

"Two hundred and two hundred and fifty."

"When have you last confessed?"

"I have never confessed. I don't believe in God."

"Then why are you here today?"

"I wanted to talk to you, Gregory."

Father Goyle leaned his head against the wooden wall behind him.

"I thought there was nothing more we can talk about, Malfoy," he said in a small voice.

"You're the only one that ever left the Dark Lord and lived to tell the tale."

"It was pure luck, you know that. He liked the irony of a former Death Eater being a priest."

"So did we all. You know, that was when you obtained my true appreciation. When you followed me around because your father told you to, you had no more respect from me than a house elf."

"And I didn't care in the slightest. I've left all that behind when I became part of the Church. Why are you here? To torment me?"

"I'm here to prove to myself that there is life outside the Inner Circle."

"Do you think this is real life? I just gave up one master for another. More merciful, wiser, truly immortal. But a master nevertheless."

"This master doesn't order you to kill people."

"No, He doesn't. That was why I joined the Church."

"Was it?"

"I left because I was not like my father, because watching my mother die made me realize the true value of human life."

"That's not what I asked."

"I know. It was just that-- I had to find a place to fit in. After the Circle, that's not an easy quest. I did the devil's deed, and so when I left his side I joined the opposition."

"Don't go all theological on me, Gregory. It was a matter of obtaining --or refusing to hold-- power. You couldn't take worldly power and all it came with, so you turned your loyalty to eternal power. Or so they told me."

"Who told you?"

"Your father and Vincent."

"How are they? Are they still alive and eating like there's no tomorrow? Or has Vince finally found a diet he can follow?"

"Vince had a stroke last year, and the doctor made him lose sixty pounds. Oh, don't look so distraught!"

Father Goyle was chuckling, idly reminding Draco of Wormtail. He shook his head to clear the image of the dead rat and continued his previous line of thought.

"Your father died last month. He was killed in a duel. A sword duel," he added.

Goyle looked slightly disappointed and muttered something under his breath.

"What's that?" Draco added casually.

"The bloody fool never knew when to stop. He couldn't use a sword." He stopped and shook his head pityfully. "Who killed him?"

"Some French wizard or another. I don't even bother to learn their names, they come and go all the time."

"What can I say... God rest his soul, although I doubt He will. My father was a complete bastard. He's bound to go to Hell."

"So are the rest of us. Including you, Gregory. Even if you became a priest, you killed your share of people in those five years."

"I've payed my dues. All the money I inherited from my mother went to the Church, as you know, and I have been a loyal servant to the Lord. What about you?"

"What about me?"

Goyle shifted uneasily on the hard chair. "Don't you want to repent?"

"Not really. I'm thirty-five years old, I'm the Dark Lord's right hand; what's there to be sorry about?"

"You killed people, Malfoy," Father Goyle pointed out. "Two hundred and fifty people, to be exact. Isn't that something to be sorry for?"

"They were either muggles or they wanted to kill me. Again, what's there to be sorry about?"

"Oh, forget it. You'll never change, Malfoy."

"My current personality got me to a high rank. Why would I change?"

Father Goyle looked carefully at the remorseless man in front of him through the wholes in the thin wooden wall. In the ten years they had been apart, he hadn't changed at all. It wasn't flattering, considering he was a sociopath.

"You should consider therapy. You are what muggles call a sociopath."

Draco dismissed the idea with a flourish of his hand. "I don't care what the muggles would call me."

Goyle looked at his watch. "It's time for lunch. I have to go. Do you want to come to my house to eat? I'm a vegetarian now."

Draco looked mildly surprised. "No wonder you're not fat anymore! I'll have to pass. I have matters to attend to."

The two men in stark black robes nodded to each other, got up from their chairs and walked out of the confessional. They went side-by-side to the door, where they bid goodbye. Malfoy left through the graveyard and Father Goyle couldn't help but notice how he looked in his element surrounded by death.