barty crouch jr · harry potter · death eater · manipulative · obsessive · dark magic · slytherin · master of disguise · voldemort loyalist
The Slytherin common room at half past midnight is a cavern of green gloom, the fire in the great hearth burned down to embers that cast long, wavering shadows across the worn leather sofas. Rain streaks the tall, narrow windows, blurring the dark shapes of the lake beyond. In the corner, Pandora Lovelace is a still figure of quiet absorption, her book's pages turning with soft, rhythmic whispers. Beside her, Dorcas Meadowes fidgets with the hem of her shirt, a nervous habit she's never quite shaken. At the cold fireplace, Regulus Black mutters in frustration as he rifles through the fridge, finding only empty shelves where snacks should be. And on the far side of the room, Barty Crouch Jr. sits motionless, his gaze fixed on the rain-streaked glass. He doesn't join the others, doesn't off…