“It’s a Remembrall!” he explained. “Gran knows I forget things “ this tells you if there’s something you’ve forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red “ oh …” His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, “… you’ve forgotten something …”
- Neville Longbottom, PS chapter nine.
The man marched purposefully forward as the boy hit the fluffy floor with a muffled thud and remained there motionless on the carpet. He took off his mask and discarded his dark cloak as the unbearable heat was almost suffocating him and prevented him from doing the two things he needed to do right now: think coolly and act swiftly.
“Who the hell are you and what on earth are you doing here?” the man asked not expecting an answer from the rigid body in front of him. He knelt down and peered at his victim’s face.
“I think I recognise you, but that still doesn’t explain why you’re here and how you got here in this cursed place.” the man mused after staring intently at the face for a few seconds.
“There’s only one way to find out,” he added dryly, without loosing eye contact, his wand at the ready, “Legilimens.”
After the spell had struck the defenceless body, the man’s calculating look changed into a penetrating stare, and immediately vivid and clear images started to play before his alert eyes. It was a piece of cake to penetrate this mind, especially for an expert Legilimens like him, as the boy’s mind was still very much affected by the dreads and horrors he’d just experienced. Add to that the fact that he was looking for a recent memory and not one that was buried deeply inside the immensely complex and unfathomable amount of brains, covered by many different memories over time, and it’s no surprise that the man found the images he was looking for without much effort.
He cursed loudly when he saw the ignorant Rabastan who apparently hadn’t had enough sense in him to move about inconspicuously, let alone properly watch his own back. And he swore a second time when he saw Barty Crouch Junior open the window and the bird flying in. He watched the owl disappear out of view and he realised they were doomed.
He was about to lift the curse when he remembered something he’d just seen: a seemingly insignificant detail the boy had overlooked in his haste to send the message. He quickly replayed the part where the boy was writing the letter. His senses sharpened with every word written on the parchment. Now the boy was again tying the paper to his owl’s leg and now the owl flew away again.
But the Death Eater had seen enough. He lowered his wand and grinned victoriously because he knew that the boy had made a tiny, but nevertheless fatal mistake: The note told the Ministry that there were four Death Eaters torturing the Longbottoms at number twelve Mortimer Street. However, it didn’t say who sent them this note as the boy had been foolish enough not to sign the damned thing.
Yes, he would have a good chance of getting out of this unharmed, as long as he’d be able to convince the others. The only factor that was really against him right now and could negatively influence the outcome was time. He’d always been an exceptionally quick thinker on his feet and within seconds, he had formed an almost flawless plan inside his head, providing everything went as planned
But not everything was going as planned as he would all too soon find out.
Oblivious of what was going on inside the bedstead next to him, the man took a purple handkerchief out of his pocket and began to mop all the sweat out of his face with his left hand, while pointing his wand towards the boy in front of him with his right hand.
“Obliviate!” he cursed, showing no sign of any emotion whatsoever as he modified the boy’s memory and consequently erased the only direct evidence that could contradict that he himself had send the letter.
With a satisfied smile on his face he turned around, but he stiffened and stopped halfway through his motion, when he stared into the face of a wide awake, two year old toddler. The child stared back curiously, his large eyes taking in every detail of the face of this stranger in front of him, whose smile evaporated like melting snow in the sun.
“Damn. I should have remembered Murphy’s law.” He muttered under his breath. He could curse himself for being so careless for the second time this day. Firstly, he should have guarded the front door more carefully and secondly, he should never have taken off his cloak and mask.
“I’m sorry kid, but I’m not going to risk Azkaban or worse for this.” He apologized before also modifying this boy’s memory. He knew fully well that at this young age a memory charm, even a light one like this, could do permanent damage, but he had no other choice.
Afterwards, the man cautiously tucked the now docile infant back into his bedstead, before putting on his cloak and mask. He glanced backwards at the child who was gawping at the ceiling with its eyes out of focus only once before magically lifting the still body of Barty Crouch Junior two feet into the air.
Silently praying that he hadn’t lingered too long in the bedroom and that there was still enough time, he left the room and paced down the stairs, Barty floating after him like an inanimate balloon. He entered the confined living room with his wand at the ready, whereas the floating body remained in the shadowy hall, hovering unsupported over the same spot some two feet above the ground. He walked wordlessly past a turned over table, a heavily damaged and smoking sofa that had been placed roughly in front of a smouldering fireplace, and past his surprised partners in crime.
“I thought we agreed that you would go and fetch their son. Where is he?” Rudolphus demanded. Yet their comrade showed no sign of hearing Rudolphus’ question. Indeed, he continued his walk quite unconcerned and halted in front of the two tied up hostages.
“Hey, wait a moment! What do you think you’re…” Rudolphus unsuccessfully warned him, but he was already too late. With two curt flicks of his wand and speaking the word imperio twice, he hit both Frank and Alice Longbottom, who both, almost simultaneously, lost conscience and as a result hung limply in their chairs.
“Why did you do that?” Bellatrix asked bewildered.
“That’s why.” He answered dryly, tilting his head backwards, indicating at Barty’s body which had just glided into the room. His three fellow Death Eaters turned around as one and moved towards their new visitor, each of them clearly flabbergasted.
“Who? What? How?” Rudolphus exclaimed utterly perplexed, unable to decide which of the many burning questions he wanted to have answered first and therefore stammering these three words.
“That,” the fourth Death Eater stated, ”is the one and only son of our beloved Bartemius Crouch. I’m sure none of you invited him to this party, but I must inform you that we owe his presence to the fact that this dim-witted twit of a brother of yours,” he pointed his index finger accusingly at Rabastan, while addressing his words to Rudolphus, “did not realise that he was being dog trailed by a teenager during his long-winded travel towards this place.”
“W-what do you mean?” the accused whimpered weakly, after the three of them had stopped abruptly in their tracks.
“You heard me, Rabastan.” The man replied as Bellatrix advanced menacingly upon her unfortunate brother-in-law.
“You fool!” She bellowed. “You retarded, ignorant son of no witch! You’re a disgrace for your brother and his family, which includes me.” She waved her wand viciously, and for the second time that day Rabastan had to bite the dust. This time he didn’t get up so easily and it took a while for him to get back on his feet. Meanwhile Bellatrix and Rudolphus were provided with more details about the critical situation they were in.
“Listen carefully to what I’ve got to say, all right.” The fourth Death Eater began calmly and clearly. “I came too late to prevent the boy from notifying the Ministry about the whereabouts of us four Death Eaters.” The couple tried to interrupt him, but he continued, only raising his voice slightly. “But not all is lost.”
“What are you waiting for then?” Bellatrix asked. “Let’s get the hell out of this place!”
“Stop! Hold your horses.” the man warned them, while putting his hands out, trying to restrain the panicking couple who were getting ready to Disapparate. “You don’t understand. It’s too late to run. By now they’ll have all our escape routes covered. Think before you act! They have the freaking address of this house. They’re monitoring the Floo Network, all Portkeys, and any Disapparating activity in this area.” He ticked off all magical means of transportation with his fingers as he spoke.
“I know what I’m talking about. I work for them, remember? Go ahead and flee if you don’t believe me or think I’m wrong, but I can guarantee you they will know where you are. Eventually they will find and corner you, and then what? You don’t think you can fight a battalion of pissed off Hit Wizards and Aurors, do you? That would be suicide.”
“So what are you saying we should do?” Rabastan rejoined the conversation. “Wait for them to show up and surrender?”
“Yes and no.” Was the man’s ambiguous answer. “I’m afraid the three of you’ve got to be taken and I’ll be able to walk free and finish our noble quest and find out what meeting they were talking about.”
“Oh yes, brilliant.” Rabastan told him cynically. “And what makes you think they’ll let you off? You just told us they know there’re four of us.”
“I know. You’re perfectly right. However, you forgot about our uninvited guest. The Ministry knows there’re four of us, but they don’t know our names. And they also don’t know who sent them the note.”
“So?” Rabastan asked confused.
“Oh come on, you imbecile!” Bellatrix shouted, clearly exasperated by Rabastan’s lack of intelligence. “Even you can do the maths. The Ministry will think that he sent the damn letter and Crouch’s son is their fourth suspect. Brilliant!”
“Look, I know I’m asking you to make an enormous sacrifice.” He seemed to address Bellatrix in particular. “You’ll be sent to Azkaban for God knows how long, but you must remember that you’re not doing this for me, or for yourselves, but that you’re doing this so that one day the Dark Lord will rise again. And when He does return, you will be rewarded. Keep that in mind.
“And I swear to you with all that’s dear to me, that I will find the information they’re hiding for us.” He vowed while pointing dramatically at the unconscious witch and wizard next to him. “I will get it out of them. I will do my part. Will you do yours?”
Bellatrix and Rudolphus edged closer towards each other and took their partner’s hands. “We will.” They promised solemnly, with a determined, almost obsessive glint in their eyes.
“Hey. Won’t I get a say in all this?” Rabastan asked indignantly.
“You’ll bloody well do as you’re told.” Bellatrix shot back in a whisper more lethal than a Basilisk’s stare. “You’ve no right to speak as you’ve already caused enough damage.”
After hearing these aggressive words, Rabastan shrunk back into a dark corner, trembling slightly out of either fear or anger and he hold his tongue. Meanwhile, Rudolphus took control of the situation, now that he’d come to terms with his new, unexpected fate.
“I think you should go back to the boy’s bedroom, get away from the action, and we’ll take care of the rest here downstairs.” He ordered the fourth Death Eater. “Give me your cloak and mask and I’ll see to it that young master Crouch here will be ready to face the Aurors he ordered himself. He’ll be under my personal control until they’re here.”
The man did as he was told and handed his black cloak and matching mask over to Rudolphus before shaking his hand vigorously.
“Too bad we couldn’t finish this job together, my friends. Goodbye and good luck.” He said before he departed.
“You too, my dear friend. You too.” Rudolphus spoke after him as his companion slipped out of view.
The man rushed back upstairs to Neville’s bedroom and he left the door standing open, so that he’d be able to hear when the Ministry would arrive. Neville, he saw, had gone back to sleep, curled up safely under his blanket as if it were a cocoon.
After about a minute or so he heard Mrs Longbottom scream again at the top of her voice. Apparently Bellatrix was trying to make the most of her last minutes as a free witch. After another minute he could hear a large number of popping sounds in very quick succession. A few seconds and some dangerous shouting and other loud noises later Mrs Longbottom’s screaming stopped.
His pulse quickened as he opened his mouth and shouted: ”I’m up here with the boy.” He heard the sound of feet, thundering up the stairs and he breathed out confidently. He knew he was ready to face and fool them all.