The Announcements
It had been an exciting day for Barty; one which would determine his whole future. For years, all he had wanted was to be important. What good would he be if he wasn’t? His deadweight father had failed when trying to achieve his own dreams, so of course he had to pressure his son to pursue and conquer the unattainable dream.
Even though it hadn’t been something Barty initially wanted, he had grown fond of the idea. If he became president of the Pinnacle, all those people would have to rule under him. He would be superior. He would teach all the stuck up kids he went to the academy with just how hard he worked. No matter how poor he had grown up, he would make it.
With a positive attitude, he showered under the jerky showerhead. It randomly stopped working sometimes, only to sprout water back at him a moment later. That was why he had brief troubles trying to wash his hair and make himself especially presentable, but he managed.
After he showered, all he had to do was wait for his cousin, Viola, to return to their apartment and hand him the shirt she so politely offered to clean. He had to look sophisticated after all.
Viola soon arrived. “Barty! Come here! Come see!” She gleefully laid the shirt out on the table, presenting to him. Barty noticed the cloth was a bright white when it used to be fairly gray. “I convinced Celia to bleach her dress to get the stain out and I snook this in whilst she wasn’t looking. Isn’t that genius?”
“Genius.” Barty confirmed with a slight grin. He leaned over to kiss her cheek whilst delicately putting the shirt on and buttoning it up. “How do I look?” He grabbed his tie and fastened it in a hurried fashion.
Viola rolled her eyes. “You unruly boy.” She muttered affectionately, straightening up his tie and patting down the shirt. “See? Now you look great. All thanks to me.”
Barty would’ve rolled his eyes too if he hadn’t been in a rush. “There’s some leftovers in the fridge for you. Dad already ate, so don’t let him convince you otherwise.” He shoved his shoes on and stopped to run over his appearance once more in the mirror. Just incase.
“Thanks for the heads-up. Have you eaten yourself?”
“Some.” Barty waved his hand dismissively, as if the human necessity wasn’t just that— a necessity. “I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry.”
“I will worry, Barty Crouch-“ Viola interrupted herself with a sigh once Barty rushed out of the door without giving her a chance to finish.
—————
Barty arrived at the main building practically buzzing with excitement. He sidled up to his friend Regulus, taking refuge in his company. “High hopes for the day, I see.” He teased, picking up on the unhappy look on Regulus’s face.
“You forget that not everybody finds joy in these Games, Barty.” Regulus commented dryly. Every year, he couldn’t stand to watch the screenings because he knew that he had been lucky. Why was it fair he had the chance to leave that life behind but so many others were still suffering in the districts? It wasn’t and he hated it.
Barty didn’t have a chance to respond before all his peer mentors were ushered to take a seat in front of the screens. Less than a minute later, Dean Tom Riddle began to make his speech.
“It is a privilege for you all to be here, training our next batch of tributes for the tenth Games. Not only will you feel immense satisfaction if your tribute is the lone victor, but you will also gain a scholarship to remain in the academy alongside that.” Tom made his way to the front of the room where everyone could see him.
Barty needed that scholarship. It was the one thing he had worked all his life for. Not at all was he prepared for the disappointment he’d feel if somebody else stole his moment of glory.
Saving the scholars from whatever the rest of his revised spiel would be, the bell chimed to signify the beginning of the reapings. Instead of showing the full reapings, the screens only broadcasted the tributes walking to the stages because none of the people living inside the Pinnacle were necessarily interested in watching the whole thing.
Tom sat down on the steps where the mentors were situated. “Without further ado, let the reaping ceremonies begin! District one,” he glanced down at the card in his hand, which had the order of the mentors, “boy goes to… Alecto Carrow.” Alecto and her peer mentors clapped along with the occasional cheers, showcasing their respect.
Alecto’s tribute was a proud-looking boy who looked far too egotistical. His blonde hair trailed over his shoulders. The screen read: Lucius Malfoy.
“Girl goes to Antonin Dolohov.” Tom announced with less enthusiasm. That time there were less cheers because the girl happened to be Andromeda Tonks, who had been a wealthy member of the Black family before deciding not to join her family in The Pinnacle and marry a man of lower status instead.
Barty could only be glad she wasn’t his tribute.
“District two, boy goes to Regulus Black.” Tom turned to look at Regulus, who sat behind him, before swiftly facing the front once more.
Barty felt Regulus stiffen beside him. The tribute was Sirius Black, Regulus’s older brother who had also refused to go to The Pinnacle. Instead of staying in one with his cousin, however, Sirius moved to district two to live with a former friend of his.
“Girl goes to Corban Yaxley.” Tom read out. “Three, boy, goes to Narcissa Black. Girl, Severus Snape. Four, girl goes to Dorcas Meadowes.”
Dorcas’s tribute seemed unlike the other female tributes. She had short blonde hair, which appeared to be damp. Her features weren’t the only anomaly in the mix, but also her expression; she had a determined look and a clenched jaw whereas the other tributes showed at least an ounce of fear. Barty, however, knew that was all a façade. The girl had to be scared underneath all that composure. He would know.
The next few reapings skipped Barty’s ears, but he soon snapped back into his head once he heard district seven’s announcement, hoping for the best.
“Seven, boy, Alice Fortescue.”
And his hopes diminished.
Alice, who sat along the other line of chairs across the room, spared a look over at him. Everybody knew he needed a good tribute, but the realization sprung into his head that he had been assigned the bad pick of the litter. Anything underneath district two was disappointing, but any below seven were heavily disheartening. Barty had may as well abandon all his aspirations on the spot.
Of course. Riddle, who had a life-long feud with Crouch Sr, wouldn’t give Barty a good shot. It would be naive of him to think so. Barty just wished he could be seen as a person beside his father. Riddle only saw him as a crook who had been out to get his job— which was exactly who Barty’s father was.
“Seven, girl, goes to Frank Longbottom. Eight, boy goes to William Avery. Girl, Rupert Wilkes.”
Barty zoned out again. He felt sick to his stomach knowing that everything he had worked hard for would go down the drain. He tuned out Tom’s reading of the next six tributes, only paying attention again when he began to announce district twelve’s because he knew that’s what he’d receive.
“Twelve, girl, Bellatrix Black.”
Bellatrix’s tribute had long black hair, which suited her perfectly framed face. Barty thought she was beautiful, but he doubted that would do much for her in the arena. If anything, it made her more of a target.
“Finally, boy,” Tom looked up to the screen, as did the other mentors, “Bartemius Crouch Jr.”
Barty exhaled, jaw clenched. He knew it. In what world was that fair? He had been judged not even on his own character, but his father’s. He was been determined to prove himself better than his blood.
Until he laid eyes upon his tribute.
The boy had short blonde hair with uneven ends. He walked up to the stage with cold, gray eyes. If his body hadn't been moving, he could’ve been passed as dead. Perhaps Barty could use that to his advantage though.
Mulciber leaned forward in his chair to whisper in Barty’s ear. “Well, you sure got your pick of the litter, Bart. He looks shell-shocked.” He snickered with full intention to rile Barty up. The vile stench of his breath hit Barty’s nose.
Barty couldn’t resist the urge to eye roll. “I’d look at the state of your own tribute before judging mine. Yours seems to be in need of basic facilities. Y’know, like a hairbrush? At least mine can keep relatively clean.”
Mulciber’s tribute was none other than Sybill Trelawney, with her unruly curly hair and skin covered with in patches of dirt.
Leaning back defeatedly, Mulciber huffed before leaning forward again, this time to Regulus. “Psst, Black. Reckon your daddy bought him for you? Your traitor brother, I mean.”
“I know who you mean.” Regulus snapped. He never had been one for patience and had a short temper. All of his family did, which would either save Sirius his life or take it.
In the next few minutes, everyone in the room began to file out. Barty and Regulus hung back along with Narcissa, who seemed rather shaken herself. Barty assumed it was because she had seen her sister for the first time in years, not because of Sirius.
“Well, the games are going to be different this year.” Barty stated, earning grunts of agreement from both Narcissa and Regulus before they joined the others who exited the confined space.