Four-The Only Man He Truly Trusted
Blackadder: I have a plan, and it’s so cunning you could stick a tail on it and call it a weasel!
From Blackadder, by Richard Curtis and Ben Elton
Barty Crouch approached his Master cautiously. It was always best to be careful until he found out what mood he was in. He could loose his temper in less time than it took Roderick Plumpton to catch the Snitch. Stepping over a fallen lampshade, he crossed the creaking floorboards of the Riddle house to the armchair. He bowed very low, making the bottom of his long coat sweep a clear path through the dusty floor. It was strange having his Master sitting before him, just as tall as he was. For a long time, Crouch had stood before a small…creature wrapped in rags. Now a red-eyed, white-faced man was resting in the chair, with his spidery fingers caressing a wand.
“Rise, Crouch. I have Wormtail if I need someone to grovel on the floor for me.”
He obeyed, raising himself onto his knees. He was relieved to see his Master was smiling, “You have been neglecting your Lord. It is almost two months since you made your infamous escape from the Hogwarts castle.”
“Forgive me, I had business to attend to and-”
“My only account so far has been from this,” the Dark Lord gestured to a small, rickety table next to his armchair. It was stacked with newspapers, with bits of articles underlined and written over with black ink.
Crouch picked up the top one and unfolded it. He raised an eyebrow scathingly, “The Daily Prophet?”
“What would you suggest? The Quibbler? At least this newspaper does occasionally print the truth. And when it does I want to hear it.”
Most of the front page was taken up by photos. There were a couple of small ones of Harry Potter, Cedric Diggory, Dumbledore and Mad-Eye Moody. The largest one in the centre showed him jumping onto a broom. He was grinning, his hair blowing away from his face and his coat flying out behind him. There was a large, bold headline screaming out ’Competition Catastrophe “ How One Champion Paid For Victory with His Life’ Crouch’s bright, brown eyes eagerly sought the start of the article. He was a fast reader, and finished it quickly. When it ended he threw it back onto the pile contemptuously. It was very clumsy, full of little errors and mistakes. Crouch was referred to as a ‘dangerous maniac’ at least twice a paragraph, which was funny the first time, but did start to get very wearing. He could have done it much better than whoever had cobbled this together.
“I hope I will get a better story out of you later.” His Master said.
Crouch nodded, “And the plans for the Ministry?”
“Are progressing well.”
So that was why he was in such a good mood.
“Will we be able to act soon?”
His Master was about to reply when a hissing noise came from outside the room, “Nagini has returned.”
A large, glistening snake slithered in soundlessly through the open door. It moved over the back of the faded armchair. Crouch leaned back slightly as it passed his face, watching it cautiously. He never quite trusted that snake, which was as wide as his leg and could bite his hand off whole. It wound itself over its owner’s shoulder and hissed again. Crouch’s Master answered it in what he guessed was Parseltongue. He waited impatiently for them to finish their spitathon. He picked up some newspapers and scanned the articles called ‘Is This the End of the Rails for Hogwarts?’ and ‘The Return of You-Know-Who’ both by the same pathetic journalist who wrote his article. Where was Rita Skeeter when you needed her? Finally, both of them were silent.
“So it’s true then, Hogwarts is closing? I heard rumours, but I didn’t believe Dumbledore would.”
“He had no choice,” his Master replied, “after a student died in a school competition. The governors decided it would be too dangerous, especially as one of the teachers turned out to be a Death Eater,” he nodded his head in Crouch’s direction.
“So we’ll have less resistance then, if he’s not training them all up to become Aurors?”
His Master stroked Nagini’s head thoughtfully, “Yes, but Hogwarts is now Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix.”
“You’re expecting trouble from them?”
“I think so. They are an irritating bunch of meddling fools, who have a knack of grubbing around in unsavoury places. But they can hold back my plans.”
“Like the one about the p-”
Crouch’s Master waved his hand impatiently, “I want no more about the Order. I know none of the Six, except Harry Potter, and he continues to evade me.”
His sudden change of temper didn’t surprise Crouch at all. It happened very often, but he knew now he had to tread carefully, “How are you-”
“I have put Billings in charge of gathering infomation. I am expecting a report from him very soon. Meanwhile, perhaps you would favour me with your account of your escape?”
Crouch rose to his feet, eager to act out his flight from Hogwarts, “Certainly my Lord. Shall I begin at the beginning?”
***
Much laughter and many minutes later, both wizards were silent, waiting for Billings’ report. Lord Voldemort leaned back in the tatty armchair with his head on his hand, surveying the room. It had every sign of decaying glory. The curtains of heavy velvet had once been red. But too many hours of sunlight had faded them to a dull grey, with only a hint of the colour it had been. In the wall opposite him was a heavy oak fireplace. It was ornately carved, but so badly scratched that the patterns were difficult to make out. Crouch was sitting on a table to his left. One leg was dangling down, almost touching the floor. He was resting his pointed chin on the knee of his other one, which was drawn up close to him. He gazed into the fire, the flames reflecting in his unfocused eyes.
Suddenly, a little man with puffy eyelids burst into the room, panting. Crouch started and half-rose.
“Well, Billings?” Lord Voldemort asked sharply.
“I’ve - I’ve got it,” he puffed.
Lord Voldemort rose, “Are you sure?...Excellent! I will deal with you in a minute. You have gained my gratitude, and I think your sister will benefit from it.”
“You mean Gloria, in-in Azk-”
“Yes. But I will speak to Crouch first, if you will wait outside we will be done in a moment.”
He obeyed, leaving the other two men alone together. Lord Voldemort sat back down and motioned to his follower, “Come here, Crouch.”
The young man kneeled before his master again. His face was brightly illuminated by the fire, but his Master’s was thrown into shadow.
“I am going to send you to get it for me “Billings’ report will help you. But before that there is another job I want you to do for me.”
“What is it?”
“Many of my most faithful followers, Bellatrix Lestrange and Gloria Billings for example, are still imprisoned. I want you to give them a gift, from me, of…their freedom.”
Crouch jumped up, looking delighted, “You want me to break into Azkaban!”
“Yes, in anyway you think is best. Surprise me.”
***
Bellatrix was sitting on the floor of her filthy cell, leaning against the stone wall. She was muttering to herself, slowly plaiting and un-plaiting her dark hair. She would die if she didn’t get out of this place soon. And she’d be happy to, if only she could see his face one last time. That was all Bella asked. But she didn’t even know if he was still alive. He could have died five years ago for all she knew. No news ever penetrated the four walls of her cell…
Bella suddenly sat up straighter and glanced around her warily. She could have sworn she’d heard some sort of scraping shuffle, which definitely wasn’t a Dementor. She listened hard. Silence. Maybe it had just been “ there it was again! Bella jumped up and pressed her ear to each wall in turn. I seemed to be coming from below…
She shrieked. The tip of what looked like a shovel poked through the earthy floor of her cell. A hole was slowly eating away at the ground. Bella grabbed her food-bowl, just in case they didn’t turn out to be too friendly. Two dirty hands appeared on either side of the hole, and raised a muddy-looking man out of it.
“Barty?”
“Bella!”
They ran towards each other and hugged. She was ecstatic to see her little protégé again. She’d always been very fond of the charming, lively young Barty Crouch. Bella had always looked after the poor boy, who’d been treated so badly by his parents. He’d been like a son to her.
Barty twirled her around, “How are you?”
“What are you doing here?” she asked as he put her down.
“What does it look like? I’m rescuing you!”
“But how did you get in?”
“I dug. All the way under the sea. Came across some pretty nasty enchantments down there, but I’ve got rid of them all now.”
“But you, I thought you-”
“No time to explain, I’m afraid.”
He ran over to the door and tapped the iron lock with his wand, “Alohamora!”
The heavy oak door swung open, “Wow, I wasn’t expecting it to actually work!” He stood and admired his handiwork for a few seconds, then grabbed Bella by the arm, and pulled her into the stone corridor.
They didn’t have to go far to meet a Dementor. Just as they rounded a corner, a cloaked figure glided towards them.
“Oops,” said Crouch. He brandished his wand, trying to ignore the memories that the Dementors forced him to relive. Just focus your mind on the happiest moments in your life. Aiming it at the thing in front of him, he yelled, “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”
A silvery winged horse blossomed out of the wand tip and galloped at the Dementor.
“Now Bella, which cell is your husband in?”
Roses and Thorns by Phoebe Gruzelier
Chapter Notes: Come on, use your common sense guys. Do I LOOK like JKR?
To my best friends, Jo and Lucy, my never-failing sources and encouragement and inspiration.