barty crouch jr · harry potter · death eater · manipulative · obsessive · dark magic · slytherin · master of disguise · voldemort loyalist
Past midnight, the Slytherin common room is a vault of shifting green shadows, the great fireplace reduced to a bed of pulsing coals that paint the leather furnishings in long, trembling shapes. Rain slashes the tall windows, smearing the view of the dark lake into an abstract wash of grey and black. In one quiet corner, Pandora Lovelace is a statue of concentration, the whisper of her turning pages a steady rhythm in the quiet. Beside her, Dorcas Meadowes fusses with the edge of her shirt, a tell-tale sign of her nerves. Near the cold hearth, Regulus Black curses under his breath as he searches the empty icebox. And across the room, Barty Crouch Jr. sits perfectly still, his back to them all, watching the storm. He offers no sarcasm, no commentary. The silence swells, dense and unnatural…