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https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon
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Chapter 65: A Father's Folly
Bartemius Crouch Sr. walked through the quiet halls of his home, his polished shoes tapping lightly against the cold wooden floors. The early morning sun cast long shadows through the windows, illuminating the dust in the air.
He adjusted his robe and tightened his grip on his wand. It had become a ritual, this daily visit. A grim necessity.
He reached the door and tapped his wand against the handle, undoing the complex locking charms he had meticulously placed. The door creaked open, revealing the dimly lit room beyond.
But it was empty.
Bartemius froze. His breath caught in his throat as his sharp eyes scanned the room. The bed was untouched, the room was eerily quite with no sign of his son. A cold dread settled in his stomach.
Then, before he could react—
A flash of red light.
Pain exploded behind his eyes as the stunning spell struck him, and the world went dark.
Bartemius groaned as consciousness returned. His head throbbed, and he quickly realized that he couldn't move. He was bound, arms and legs secured to a wooden chair by invisible magical restraints.
His fingers twitched instinctively for his wand, but it was gone.
Panic crept into his chest. He forced himself to breathe evenly, to assess. Years in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had trained him well, but he was at a disadvantage. Whoever had done this knew what they were doing.
A shadow moved in front of him.
And then he saw him.
Bartemius Crouch Jr. stepped forward, his ragged, sunken face illuminated by the dim candlelight. His brown eyes, once full of intelligence and promise, were now wide with madness. A manic grin stretched across his face.
But it was his arm that caught Bartemius's attention. His son had yanked back the sleeve of his robes, revealing his bare forearm.
There was no Dark Mark.
His son's voice was hoarse and wild. "The Mark is gone."
Bartemius said nothing, his mind racing.
His son's voice rose to a shriek. "THE MARK IS GONE!"
Bartemius swallowed, forcing his voice to remain calm. "Barty," he said evenly, "you need to listen to me—"
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" Crouch Jr. howled, his hands trembling as he pointed to his own skin. "Where is it? Where is my Lord's Mark?"
Bartemius quickly realized what had happened. His son had somehow broken free of the Imperius Curse.
A mistake. A failure.
His greatest regret had been allowing his son to fall into the clutches of the Dark Lord, and his second had been sparing him. He had spent years keeping his son under control, hiding him away, trying to atone for his past mistake.
But now… now he was looking at the consequences of his own folly.
Bartemius inhaled deeply. "I did nothing, Barty." His voice was firm, unwavering. "The Dark Lord is gone."
Crouch Jr. flinched as though struck. His breathing quickened. "No," he whispered.
"It's the truth," Bartemius pressed. "Voldemort has been dead for years now."
"NO!" his son roared. His wild eyes glowed with fanatical rage. "HE CAN'T BE DEAD! HE CAN'T BE KILLED! HE PROMISED! HE PROMISED US ETERNAL GLORY!"
Bartemius saw the movement a second too late.
"CRUCIO!"
Pain. Searing, unbearable pain.
His body convulsed as agony raced through his nerves like fire. His muscles locked, his vision blurred, but still, he clenched his jaw, refusing to scream.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO THE MARK?!" his son shrieked.
Bartemius panted, blinking sweat from his eyes. "I did nothing."
"LIES!"
Another wave of pain.
Another few moments of torment.
It felt like hours before his son finally lowered his wand, his chest rising and falling heavily with each frantic breath.
Bartemius sagged in the chair, the lingering pain making his limbs tremble.
Then, finally, his son's expression shifted. His manic fury drained away, replaced by something worse.
Cold realization.
"No," Crouch Jr. whispered. His hands trembled as he looked at his arm, rubbing at his unmarked skin as if trying to bring the Dark Mark back by sheer will. "No, no, no—"
Bartemius closed his eyes for a brief moment. "Accept the truth, Barty," he said, voice tired.
His son let out a broken laugh. "He's… really gone."
Silence stretched between them.
And then, the madness returned.
Bartemius's eyes snapped open just in time to see his son raise his wand again.
His heart clenched in his chest as he realized—this was it.
"Barty," he said, but it was too late.
A manic grin stretched across his son's face, tears brimming in his wild eyes.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A flash of green.
Bartemius Crouch Sr. saw no more.