Entry for Round 1 of the Quidditch League – Pride of Portree vs. Wigtown Wanderers. GO WANDERERS!
KEEPER: Write about your chosen Death Eater being with their family. Min 900 words.
A dark expression sneaked its way onto the handsome face of Barty Crouch junior as he slowly walked up the steps that were leading to the front door of his parents' house. His childhood home looked exactly the same, even after all these years, a fact that he thoroughly disliked. It was a display of his father's craving for perfection, not only in his job, but also in his private life. Every single brick of the Victorian estate looked shinier and younger than it normally would in this age, weather and wind had not left behind any traces, causing the house to look as good as newly built. Barty grimaced at the perfectly cut magnolias that were blooming beautifully in their polished plant pots on the right and left of the entrance door. The black colour of the door looked as if it had been freshly painted only days ago and he was nearly blinded by the biting sunlight that was reflected from the golden knocker.
Already standing in front of the entrance door made him feel the stiff corset of living in this house again. His father had always been concentrated on the outer appearance of his small family and his home. Reputation had been more important to Crouch senior than everything else sometimes. Barty felt more than relieved that in a few hours from now, he would be able to leave this place again and go home. Then this feeling of being trapped in a golden cage full of rules and restrictions would disappear, and he would enjoy the freedom of his own, slightly chaotic flat.
He disliked this house and he disliked his father. And he disliked Sundays.
Coincidentally, this very day was a Sunday. It wasn't really a coincidence, really, but it did explain why his mood was even worse.
The only reason why Barty was here at all, in this place that made him feel trapped, near the person that had always been aiming to make him perfect too, was his mother.
His mother was the only person of his past that he had no negative feelings about. He loved her, she was kind, sweet, and had always done her best to make him feel at home, especially in his late teenage years when he had felt like his summers were a trip to Azkaban. She had always taken care of Barty, had defended him when his father had been mad at Barty for behaving badly (or just for being a child) and though he wanted to leave his past behind him, he didn't want to let go of her. Even as a young man, he needed her love, although he could always feel something like guilt swell up inside of him when he sat next to her and lied to her about what he was doing.
Inwardly shielding himself from all these feelings, Barty was about to grab the knocker when the door was opened and his own eyes seemed to look at him disapprovingly. Barty Crouch senior frowned at his son as he let him in and stated:"You're late, son."
"You say that every time," Barty replied coldly, took off his cloak and handed it to Winky, the house-elf, before walking straight past his father into the living room.
"Mother! How lovely you look today."
With his arms wide open, Barty approached his mother and embraced her, the first real, friendly smile in weeks on his lips. As she closed her arms around him and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, Barty forgot about that unpleasant feeling of being in this house again, even though it was just for a moment.
"Barty, I am so happy you came," she smiled and ran her hand through his slightly wild hair, her expression not disapproving, but amused and happy. Sometimes Barty asked himself how a woman like her had ended up with somebody like his father. They were complete opposites of each other, not a fit and surely she could have had somebody who actually valued how kind and loving and friendly she was.
"You know I would never let you down, mother."
Barty did his best to ignore the way his father mustered him and his appearance as he sat down on the couch and let his mother grab his hand. It was more than obvious that his visits on every second Sunday were the only light in her life, and it made him sad and guilty and angry alike.
Sad and angry because he knew that his mother was lonely, as his father was in the Ministry all day and rarely gave his wife enough attention. He wanted her to live a better life, one in which she was not sitting in this huge, empty house all day with no one to keep her company, except for Winky. She deserved better, and a part of his guilt was that he could not bear to be in this house so much that he let her be on her own. Barty could have visited her more often, but the urge to stay away from this house was just too strong, making him angry with himself.
But the real reason why he was feeling guilty were the lies he continued to tell her.
When she looked at him and smiled, he could see how proud she was of him, her son, how she admired the way he was, unaware that this was an illusion. She didn't know about how much he had changed since he had left the house shortly after graduating from Hogwarts.
She didn't know what he had become.
Barty was glad that his mother was unaware of the dark path her son was wandering down, of the things he believed in, of the crimes he had committed because of them. And deep down inside of him, he hoped that she would never have to find out, because he could not bear to break her heart.