The Ministry Of Magic
Barty
Barty was sure he’d made the right choice. He’d done the right thing by telling Evan to run, by letting him go and make sure he saved himself. Evan was safe, and that was all that mattered. But yet, a sense of fear kept on lingering inside of him.
He was afraid.
Afraid of what was to come. Of what awaited him. A fate he would never accept, that he simply couldn’t surrender to.
Barty laid his back against the cold stone wall and sighed. His stomach growled in hunger: he hadn’t received any kind of food in a whole fucking day, he was cold, his bed was utterly uncomfortable. He had barely closed an eye since he’d woken up in that cell, mostly because of the dread of being unable to see Evan ever again, to apologise for what had happened, to tell him he loved him for one last time, to give him one last kiss before his sentence. Barty knew it would come: a life sentence into Azkaban darkest cell or the Dementor Kiss. Either prospect seemed equally horrible.
Yeah, the cell he’d been locked up in wasn’t situated in Azkaban, he knew it for sure. He could hear no cries coming from the nearby cells, nor the sound of the sea rumbling outside of the building. He was still at the Ministry of Magic, locked up in the underground cells, the ones in which criminals ended up before their fate was decided.
He rubbed his eyes, then rested his forehead on the palm of his hand. His head hurt for the lack of sleep and food, he was tired, so fucking tired. The only thing he craved for at that moment was some good rest, though fear crept it away.
He’d never felt so alone, so powerless, not since he’d left his family’s home for his first year at Hogwarts: after that, even bearing his father’s tortures had become easier knowing Regulus, Evan, Pandora and Dorcas would have never left him. Now, he just felt empty, so scared someone would snatch everything he cared for away from him, condemning him to become again the person he’d been years before, the same one he’d always hated and had managed to leave behind.
Evan.
Barty had never needed his loving words and sweet touch more than he did right then.
Still, hee couldn’t let his father win like that. He had to stay strong and find a way to get out of that place.
But, oh, who was he trying to fool? His wand had been taken away from him, and he had no chances of surviving there without any magic. He was fucked, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Barty was immersed in those thoughts, considering every possible, most likely useless, plan, when he heard a key being turned in the door’s lock. Maybe someone had finally come to bring him food, and water to ease his thirst.
“Bartemius Crouch Jr, the future Prime Minister’s son, locked up in the Ministry’s cells for having betrayed his country in order to pursue the Dark Lord’ path. Who would have ever imagined it?”.
He raised his head to meet the blue pair of eyes looking down on him. “What do you want, Gideon?”.
“I’ve been sent here to check on you, make sure you weren’t trying to come up with some genius ways of slipping through our fingers without us even realising it” Gideon answered, closing the door behind him. He held his wand out before him, ready to cast a spell against him in case he made a wrong move.
Barty’s lips curled up in a small smirk. “Does my father really fear me at the point of having me supervised?”.
“Death Eaters can be unpredictable” Gideon only answered. “And that’s not the only reason why I’m here. Minister Crouch decided not to waste any more time and provide your immediate transfer to Azkaban. As for what’ll come next, that’s yet to be decided”.
“Immediate transfer?” Barty snapped up.
“The guards should be here in a few hours. Once you cross the prison’s doors, you’ll never see the outside world again. So, make sure to enjoy the little time you have here. Perhaps, one day you’ll long for this same cell, deeming it way better than the one you’ll be destined to spend the rest of your days in”.
A whole lifetime in Azkaban. He would go crazy.
“No. I refuse to go”.
“I’m sorry, Barty. But I fear you have no other options”.
It was all his fault.
He’d been supporting Voldemort for years, he’d caused Evan and Pandora’s separation, Regulus’ break up and remorse, Fraser’s death… it had all started with him, because of him.
“I just… I did it all for him”.
“Rosier?”.
Barty nodded. “I wanted to give him the world, a place for us to be free in, without the past to haunt us anymore. I evidently messed everything up”.
“You made your choices, Barty, and they led you here. Now, you ought to pay the consequences”.
There was no real sorrow in his voice.
“You don’t really give a damn about what’ll happen to me, do you?” if possible, Barty’s eyes grew even colder.
For some reason, it hurt to know that. The man standing in front of him looked so different from the boy he’d looked up to all throughout his first year at Hogwarts, so brilliant, admirable, courageous. The same one he once used to have a crush on. He was just eleven, not even dreaming of standing a chance with him. And yet, he liked him, valued him, wished for him to notice him.
Well, he’d apparently gotten different, colder, more standoffish, so far from the Gideon he once knew.
“I care about my family’s well being, Barty. I want to build a world in which they’ll never have to be scared of someone taking their loved ones away from them in a pointless conflict. I want to give them a brighter future. You know, you and I are not so different from each other, after all. What a pity you had to waste your potential in his name”.
Barty clenched his fist by his side. “You know nothing about me, Gideon. Nothing about what I’ve been through. Nothing about the person I was and the one I want to become”.
“People like you have no future, Crouch. No matter how much you try to erase your mistakes, they’ll never go away completely. Their halo will always hover above your life, reminding you of what you did. Of what you did out of your pure will”.
“I’m no monster” he said. But could he really still be so sure about that?
“I’m sorry Barty. I can’t trust the words of a killer” Gideon stepped back, distancing himself from him. “I really wish things had gone differently. I would have never imagined you would become… this: a dark wizard”.
“Speaking of dark arts… the curse you used against me, the Cruciatus Curse. It’s illegal”.
“As Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Crouch gave us permission to use the Unforgivable Curses on our enemies if needed. Dark magic against dark magic: totally even”.
“You condemned my despicable acts and yet you did the exact same”.
“I’m doing it for the right cause Crouch, that’s far different. Your father sent me here to check on you, sure, but also to communicate some news and… ask you a few questions”.
Barty stood up too, his jaw twitched. His muscles hurt, he felt weak, hungry, and he was shivering from the cold penetrating through the drafts in the dark stone walls. He needed to get out of there. “Questions?” he echoed, fixing his eyes on him.
“Just a few details on your beloved master’s intentions. They’ll ask you more at Azkaban. A little advice, Crouch: answer all the questions right away, or they’ll use curses upon you. They could torture you or force you to reveal the truth through the Imperius Curse”.
“I’ll answer no questions” Barty affirmed. “I won’t tell you anything that could compromise my friends”.
Evan, Regulus, Narcissa, even Lucius. He couldn’t endanger them.
Gideon looked down on him, his eyes softened for a moment, giving space for a glimpse of the boy Barty had liked so much, years before.
“You better confess once in Azkaban, or they’ll torture you to insanity”.
“I won’t talk” he shook his head. “I shan’t”.
“Do you prefer losing your mind and being left with no memory of your dear Evan?”.
That question silenced him.
“Trust me Barty: answer every question you get asked. You’ll still be destined to live a life of loneliness in your cell, but at least you’ll have memories. They’ll slowly blur with time, some of them may become nothing but a bare glimpse. But they’ll still be a part of you. Don’t lose what makes you who you are” Gideon said.
“Promise me you won’t hurt him. You can arrest me, torture me, take my soul. But please, leave him alone. That’s my only request”.
If he really had to die, he wanted it to be knowing Evan was safe.
“It’s all my fault. He never really wanted to join You-Know-Who’s lines. He did it for me. He doesn’t deserve my fate”.
“We’ll see what will happen” Gideon only replied, and Barty knew he would get no better answer.
“Gideon” he stopped him before he could exit the cell. “You’re a member of the Order, right?”.
“I am”.
“Please, tell them I’m sorry”. He didn’t specify who. He was sure he already knew.
⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅
Gideon didn’t come back that day. Day, night, Barty had no idea. He had already lost track of time, and he didn’t even dare to imagine what it would be like at Azkaban.
He couldn’t accept that destiny, though Gideon was right: he deserved it. He’d been selfish and mindless, and Evan and Regulus had tried to make him realise he was making a terrible mistake more than once. But he’d never bothered listening. And look at where he was now: waiting for the guards to come pick him up. He was sure he had not much left to live, either: his father wasn’t certainly going to spare him, there was no point in fooling himself with false hopes. If only he could go back in time and change everything. For the first time in months, he understood how Regulus really felt.
Shit, he wished he could see him, apologise for everything.
Barty was still lost in those thoughts when he heard the latch being opened, the metallic sound echoing among those thick walls.
“Leave me alone, Gideon”.
The door opened with a creak and… there they were, the guards, standing upright before the entrance in their perfect uniforms, wands in hand. But they hadn’t come for him.
“It’s been years since we last met, Bartemius”.
That voice. That fucking voice, the same that had been haunting his worst nightmares his whole life. It felt as if the temperature in the room had abruptly dropped. He couldn’t move, petrified by fear. Fear and… shame.
“Father…”.
“Out of all places, I would have never expected to meet you here. Arrested for the person you’ve become”. His features twitched in disgust, the flame of rage burning in his eyes. And Barty hated to see how much they looked alike. He’d always hated his father’s eyes, always so full of loathing. Luckily, he’d inherited his brown ones from his mother, otherwise he would have never been able to look at his reflection in the mirror.
“A Death Eater. One of the Dark Lord’s servants. Of course. I should have expected that from you.‘The son of the future Prime Minister is a murderer’. That’s definitely going to be on people’s mouths for days. I’ll never get the role I’ve been craving for my whole life”.
“I just wanted him to be happy” those were the only words he managed to get past his lips.
“Oh, right” his father scoffed. “Let me correct myself. ‘The son of the future Prime Minister is a murderer, and a freak’”.
He knew about him and Evan.
Barty still remembered how he’d found out. He’d forced him to attend some sort of gala to introduce him to his colleagues as the future Prime Minister, as he’d never had a choice but to follow his father’s steps and take his place when he’d grow old. He’d brought Evan with him, telling his father he was a friend of his, that the Rosier family was one among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, he’d even come up with the lie Evan wanted to enter politics too.
So, his father had allowed him to come. They’d spent the most of the evening talking to exponents of the wizarding world, until Evan had led him to a more secluded corner to get some space for them, far from his father’s eyes.
They’d kissed, and he’d seen them.
Barty could still recall him yelling at him once at home, calling him a ‘freak’, wondering what had he ever done so bad to deserve a disgrace of a son. He’d forbidden him to frequent Evan, to see him during the holidays. Of course, he’d broken that rule. So many times his father had lost hope in him.
“Of course a failure like you would turn to a figure like the Dark Lord, to seek his approval, his protection. Always the follower, never the leader. You’ve never been suited for such a role, I should have figured it out many years ago”.
His words sunk in, each of them feeling like a stab in the heart.
“I’ve changed from the person you used to know”. Barty wasn’t even sure he believed that in the first place.
“Of course you have: you’ve become an even worse version of your old self”.
‘Shut the fuck up, you fucking son of a bitch: it’s all your fault. If only you’d shown me even a little love, I wouldn’t have chosen the other side with the only purpose of avenging my sufferings, to crash your empire. You’re the monster here, not me’.
That’s what he would have loved to say. But he couldn’t seem to force the words past his lips. Because, no matter how much time had passed, he still felt so incredibly powerless, useless, in front of him. Never enough, never worthy of his attention, of his love.
Barty wasn’t over what that monster had done to him, he would probably never be. And he hated himself for that.
If only Evan had been by his side, perhaps he’d have been able to face him.
But he wasn’t.
He was alone. Afraid and vulnerable.
“I’m sorry” the words rolled off his tongue before he could stop them. He’d lost count of how often he’d uttered them that day. He hated the desperation coating his voice. “Please, don’t send me to Azkaban. Allow me to make up for my mistakes”.
“Apologising won’t erase the lives you took, Bartemius”.
His cheeks felt wet, and he realised he’d started crying.
‘No. Not now. Not in front of him’, he thought.
“Please Father, forgive me. Don’t condemn me to a lifetime of loneliness and regret, please. I’ll do anything you ask me to, I promise”.
Barty loathed himself more with every word. His father was right, he’d never changed from the foolish child he used to be. He was still as desperate for even the slightest hint of love as before.
“How could I ever pity a murderer?”.
“I’m not a monster” Barty told him the same he’d told Gideon, convincing him no better.
“You are. The Dark Mark on your arm is the indelible proof” he turned his back on him. “I have no more time to lose with you”.
“No” Barty shook his head, desperate for him to stay, to tell him he forgave him, that he would find a way to redeem himself for everything he was guilty of. “Please. How could you do this to your son?”.
“Son?” his father stopped on the doorframe, imperceptibly tilting his head towards him. “I’ve never had any”.
The door shut close behind him, darkness fell back in the small cell.
“No!” Barty slammed his fist on the door. “Come back! I swear I’m sorry, I really am!”. The sound of steps climbing up a stairway filled the air, and he banged his hand on the door again, blood surfacing from the wounds on his knuckles. He slid on the floor, resting his head against the smooth wooden surface. “I’m sorry” he murmured, voice feeble. “Come back. I’ll be a good son, I promise I’ll be a good son… come back…”.
He received no answer.
Tears kept on streaming down his face and he did nothing to stop them. He just sat there, still, letting the cold slither in his bones, stomach closed by fear and self loathing. He’d failed himself, the promise he’d made of never allowing that dickhead of his father to bring him down.
He’d failed Evan.
Evan.
He would have been so disappointed in him had he witnessed that scene.
“I’m sorry…” Barty whispered again. To whom, he didn’t know.
⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅
After finally managing to fall asleep, he got woken up by a loud knocking on the door. He blinked a couple of times, tears still lingering by the corners of his eyes. He quickly wiped them away and sat up, ignoring the pain in his tense muscles.
Could it be his father again?
A key being turned in the lock. A thin slit of light enlightening the dark room as the door was opened.
“Barty”.
His eyes widened as they met a pair of familiar brown ones. Same scars crossing his face, same freckles, same messy chestnut hair, same crystalline voice… it was really him.
“Remus?”.
“Get up. We must go, quickly”,
“What do you mean?”.
“I’m getting you out of here”.