“Crouch’s fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial and, by all accounts, it wasn’t much more that an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy … then he sent him straight to Azkaban.”
- Sirius Black, GOF chapter twenty-seven.
The golden grilles slit shut with a crash behind the two men and the lift descended slowly out of their view, chains rattling, while the two men strolled through a corridor lined with doors.
The rattling noises faded away into the distance and they moved onwards through the lamp-lit corridor, as the enchanted windows mirrored the sultry but nevertheless dark evening sky that hung currently over the London streets somewhere above them.
One of the men, a tall black bloke, his hairless head smooth and shiny like a billiard-ball, asked the scarlet-robed wizard next to him with a deep voice: “Do you think our written statements will suffice for the Wizengamot, or do they insist on an oral explanation by each of the witnesses?”
“I recon they might desire to interview us, but I really don’t think Barty’d let them do it.” The scarlet-robed man, whose pony-tailed hair-dress couldn’t have contrasted more with that of his colleague, answered. “He wants the four of them into Azkaban as soon as possible and in his mind every extra minute of needlessly chatting about the evidence is one too many.”
They turned the corner and walked through a pair of heavy oak doors and emerged in a cluttered open area divided into cubicles. The room was full of activity as witches and wizards moved to and fro, while others were either discussing something with one of their neighbours, their heads visible over the top of their cubicles, or deeply emerged in their work behind their desks.
“It hasn’t been so busy this late in the evening since last Halloween.” The man with the long pony-tail remarked incredulously.
“You’re right, Williamson,” the black Auror agreed, “though I imagine most of them are just here at the Headquarters to find out what happened with Frank and Alice and what will happen with the four suspects.”
The Auror named Williamson craned his neck and scanned the whole room. After a few seconds he said: “I can’t see Barty anywhere in this place and he isn’t in his office either.” He pointed at a door with a large window next to it at the other end of the room. ”What do you say, Kingsley?”
“He’ll be there soon enough, don’t worry.” Kingsley assured his colleague, absent-mindedly fidgeting with the large golden hoop in his ear. “Which gives me the chance to drop something off at my desk.”
Williamson followed his fellow Auror and waited restlessly outside Kingsley’s cubicle, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm against the wooden panels behind his back. He heard Kingsley rummage through a number of drawers and half a minute later his black, bald face reappeared in the open space between the two wooden panels that marked the front of his private cubicle.
“Do you want some chewing-gum?” He asked, waving a couple of bright-coloured wrappers in his massive hand. Williamson spun around and eagerly accepted the offer so Kingsley tossed one of the sweets towards his colleague, who deftly caught it with one hand.
Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum is known to be an essential part of any Auror’s basic daily survival kit, because chewing gum has some distinct advantages over other activities that are more commonly used across the world to kill time when working on some tedious and boring case. Unlike smoking, for example, it is not bad for your health, nor smelly for people around you who’re not addicted to nicotine. And unlike drinking gallons of tea or coffee every day, it does not lead to the inconvenient urge to empty ones bladder every half an hour.
“Do you remember that day when Frank proved to me and many others that he could stuff no less than twenty-four of those pieces of chewing-gum in his mouth?” Kingsley suddenly asked, a bitter-sweet smile on his face, as he stepped out of his cubicle. The cubicle’s interior consisted of a couple of filing cabinets, a chair and a large desk, stacked with high, messy piles of paper and a few personal items like amongst others a picture of an elderly black couple with grey hair and wrinkled faces, almost buried between the many reports.
“Hell yeah! Of course I do.” Williamson replied enthusiastically. “He nearly suffocated, but he did pull it of. He earned himself a nice sum of money with that trick that day, betting against all these people, especially Ludo Bagman.”
Both men were laughing louder and louder, Kingsley with a deep, booming laugh and Williamson nearly swallowed his chewing-gum.
“It’s a good thing Alice never found out about that particular joke,” Williamson chuckled, “or she would have skinned him alive.”
“He was quite the character, our Frank.” Kingsley said, shaking his head, having finally overcome his fit of laughter, yet still smiling more broadly than a Clabbert, revealing a magnificent set of ivory-white teeth.
He heaved a deep sigh before confessing: “I’ve missed them these past months and I really wish they get better soon.”
“I hadn’t seen nor spoken to them in ages until this evening,” Williamson said, a note of bitter sadness in his voice,” but if I’d known the circumstances under which I’d be reunited with them, I would have gladly chosen never to see them again. I just can’t get their faces out my eyes, no matter how hard I try.”
“I just felt so completely helpless and sad when those Healers tried to revive them.” Kingsley told his colleague, his toothy grin all but disappeared. “And when they carried them away on stretchers after their attempts proved to be in vain.”
“I just hope those four evil bastards will pay most dearly for their foul deeds.” Williamson spat revengefully, a cold but nevertheless furious fire radiating from his keen eyes.
“I’m sure they will be punished most severely, if that’s any comfort for you.” Kingsley replied.
“Ah, look who’s here!” He added loud enough for the wizard who was approaching the two of them. “Good evening, Dawlish.”
A tough-looking wizard with very short, wiry hair walked towards them and joined the conversation.
”Evening Shacklebolt. Evening Williamson.” He greeted curtly, before asking if any of them had any idea when the head of their department would show up.
“He should’ve been here right now, shouldn’t he?” He added uncertainly, “Or did he change the time of our meeting?”
But before either of them could answer the sound of the two heavy oak doors being opened, announced the arrival of a new person at the Auror Headquarter and every face turned towards the doors. Each witch and wizard ceased to walk, work or talk and for a moment all of them stared in total silence at the stiff, upright figure that’d just entered the room.
Barty Crouch Senior closed the doors and stood there, staring at the silent people in front of him with a mildly curious expression on his weary but watchful face. And when he remained standing there, slowly, one by one, the Aurors continued with what they were doing before, as if nothing had happened. A few of them cast an awkward glance at the head of their department, unable to restrain themselves.
Mr Crouch with his gaunt, grey hair and narrow moustache beckoned the three Aurors who were standing together in front of Kingsley’s cubicle to follow him and he strode quite unperturbedly towards his office at the other end of the room. The three wizards obliged immediately and made their way wordlessly through the bustling crowd. Barty Crouch was the last to enter his own office and he shut the door and the lamellae that hung in front of the large window with a wave of his wand, effectively shielding them from inquisitive stares from outside.
“Good evening, gentlemen.” Mr Crouch began. His office couldn’t have been more different from Kingsley’s cubicle with its crisp clean interior, its neatly put away papers in filing cabinets and other drawers, and its total absence of personal items, not even a family portrait. “Please take a seat for this meeting which I intend to keep as short as possible.”
“Good evening, sir.” The three of them murmured before sitting down.
“Frankly I don’t have much time to reflect on the things that have happened today and the consequences of the actions I have undertaken.” He continued seriously, gazing intently from one wizard to the other with his sharp eyes. “Therefore I’d like to hear what you three, as Aurors and as witnesses, think about it.”
“I know it’s virtually impossible for any of us to judge and act totally objectively, because this case involves people we know well and care about.” Kingsley voiced slowly. “But under these stressful circumstances I think you’ve probably done the right thing.”
“I think you’re showing those four filthy rats too much mercy than they deserve, by giving them a fair trial.” Williamson spoke passionately, banging his fist on the table to strengthen his statement. ”I would have sent them straight to Azkaban, like you did for example last year in the Sirius Black case.
“No offence meant of course.” he hastily apologized, having realised that he’d just called his boss’ son a filthy rat and implicitly accusing Crouch Senior of showing favouritism. “But like Kingsley just said: we’re all emotionally affected.”
“No offence taken, Williamson.” Bartemius Crouch assured him. “I asked you to speak your mind and you just did.”
“I’m afraid I have to partially agree with Williamson, sir.” Dawlish stated softly, without looking his boss straight in the face. “There were two different roads you could have taken. One way of dealing with them was by putting them in jail without a trial, which is of course highly justified, given the crimes they obviously committed. I mean they were caught red-handed.
“Or you could have started an extensive and time-consuming investigation, which would have meant verifying every statement and scrutinising every single detail, which might have lead to the arrest of more Death Eaters who might have been involved behind the scenes. But you chose to do something in between by giving them a trial too swift for my taste.”
“There’s no evidence whatsoever that suggests any involvement from people other than the four who’ve already been apprehended.” Mr Crouch remarked sceptically, with raised eyebrows.
“It’s impossible!” Williamson sneered.
“Improbable.” Kingsley added thoughtfully.
“It’s three against one, so I don’t feel that we should unnecessarily expand or intensify our investigation and let the Wizengamot decide with the evidence we’ve so far gathered.” Bartemius Crouch said sternly, hoping to settle the matter with that.
“But you’re talking about the life of your own son, for goodness sake!” Dawlish argued desperately, in a last attempt to change his boss’ mind. “What if we found out that he was hardly involved? What if he had no idea at all about what the other three were going to do? He can hardly have been a Death Eater for a long time. Look at his age!”
“I will hear no more of this nonsense!” Barty Crouch shouted furiously, having nearly upset his chair in his haste to stand up, now towering over the unfortunate Auror who’d braved to argue with the head of his department. ”Do I make myself clear? I’ll treat him like any other Death Eater. All the time he was in the same room as his three companions and yet he did nothing to prevent the others from their despicable deeds. This makes him just as guilty as the others. Even if he did somehow, as you claim he did, not know what he was getting himself into.”
Barty Crouch’s eyes were now bulging with rage and a nerve was twitching in his temple.
“It’s your decision.” Dawlish muttered timidly, his face flushing bright-red. “You’re in charge.”
Mr Crouch started pacing up and down his office, until he suddenly paused to check his watch and asked: “Is there anything else any of you three wants to say before I declare this meeting to be over? My wife will be here shortly after and both Dumbledore and Fudge want to have a word with me before I go to the courtroom down in the dungeons.”
Both Williamson and Dawlish shook their heads, but Kingsley replied: “Is our presence required at the trial or can I go home now? You must understand that it has been a physically and emotionally very draining day and I’m utterly exhausted.”
“If you’ve all signed your statements,” all three men nodded, ”then I see no reason why you can’t go home.”
“I’ll see you all tomorrow then.” Kingsley spoke as he and the others headed for the door.
“I’m staying here for the trial, Kingsley.” Williamson said as he opened the door and walked out of the office.
“Me too.” Dawlish spoke before leaving the office, which left only Kingsley and Bartemius Crouch in the room.
“I realise this must be a very difficult time for you and your wife.” Kingsley told his boss calmly as they both stepped out of the office after which Mr Crouch locked the door with his wand, “I wish both of you the strength to live through these rough times.”
“Thank you, Shacklebolt.” He replied gravely before moving past him and immediately starting a new conversation with Cornelius Fudge, who apparently was standing behind Kingsley.
Kingsley turned around and the last thing he saw before he Disapparated from the Auror Headquarters was Mr Crouch shaking hands with the short, portly wizard who was somehow looking rather smug.