"OK everyone, you're going to have to pay attention tonight," Rookwood said, addressing the small raid group in front of him, "Ministry security is different at night than it is in the day."
Barty Crouch Jr. rolled his eyes. Raiding the Ministry was easy; child's play, really. Actually, it was quite literally child's play. When Barty was ten years-old, his dad had brought him to the Ministry once a month to show him around, and each time he had, Barty had broken away and run all over the building, hiding from his dad. One time, he'd hid himself in the Minister's office, right under the desk. The Minister had jumped a mile when he went to sit down and scrawny brunette kid had popped out. Barty got grounded for that one. But now he was all grown up and working the opposite side. This time, he wasn't stealing through the halls to hide from his father, however; this time, he was running to steal something important for his Master. The Dark Lord required the prophecy, and Barty was determined to be the one who got it for him.
"At night, the Ministry uses patrol wizards, protective charms, and boggarts to protect everything. Tread a bit more careful." Rookwood said.
"Yes, mom!" Barty said, making the rest of the small party chuckle.
"Seriously, Rookwood," Bellatrix Lestrange said, "We got this! Just let us go!"
"Fine," He said, stepping out of the way of the door, "Just don't come crying to me when something unexpected pops up and you get hurt."
"I promise we won't," Severus said and the whole party surged forward, excitement flowing through them like electricity.
"Hey, last one to the Department of Mysteries has to feed Nagini her dinner for a week!" Bellatrix giggled.
"You're on, frizz-head!" Barty yelled joyfully and took off down a back hallway.
"You're going to wrong way, stupid!" Bella teased, and then smashed a security guard against a wall with a stunning spell.
Barty ignored her and just surged forward down the hall; he knew a secret passage that would take him right to the Department of Mysteries. There was a joyful feeling coursing through his veins as he pounded his legs faster and faster, and stunning three, four, five guards. He even stopped for a second to carve 'Death Eaters' into a stone wall with an intermediate charm. It was a slightly immature thing to do, but Barty didn't care; he was happy for once. He was outsmarting the Ministry and he was going to get to the prophecy before Bellatrix, or Severus, or Rabastan, or Regulus.
Barty's tennis-shoed feet slammed against the tile floor and his heart was making his blood rush fast to all parts of his body. The echo of his footsteps resounded around him, but then came to an abrupt stop when he found himself outside the door to the Department of Mysteries. Barty looked around; the hallways around him were empty. He was the first one there. Perfect.
Barty walked forward to the door, but before he could get to it, a wardrobe to his right started to rattle, "Ha!" Barty laughed. A boggart was no match for him tonight, Barty felt fearless. The doors sprang open and for a while it was silent, "So, the big bad boggart can't find my worst fear?" Barty mocked, "That's because I'm not weak-blooded! I have no fear!"
Barty went to open the door to the Department, when he heard a familiar voice behind him, "Fearless, Barty? Really?" Barty froze and slowly turned around. Lord Voldemort was standing in the abandoned hallway, sneering at Barty, "You wish you were fearless." The Dark Lord let out a fierce laugh, "You're so immature, you have no clue about the world or anything." He laughed again, cruelly and without any compassion, "Why do I even keep you? You're like an injured dog; you should just be shot."
Barty hung his head as his master continued to laugh; his laughter piercing Barty's heart like icicles. Voldemort kept laughing and Barty wanted to cry. He sat down on the floor and put his head in his hands. Why did anyone keep him around? Surely if the man he'd dedicated himself to didn't even like him anymore, then what was different about him and a wounded dog? Why shouldn't he be shot?
The Dark Lord kept laughing, harder and harder, until it was completely uncharacteristic of him. That's when Barty remembered; this was only a boggart, not Voldemort's true feelings. Barty stood up, anger flashing bright in his eyes, "RIDIKULOUS!" He roared, and the boggart Voldemort was suddenly curled up in the fetal position on the ground, sucking his thumb.
Barty lowered his wand, and then stooped down to look the boggart in the face, "How dare you?" His whisper was cold and threatening, "You pathetic little creature. How dare you insult me, a pure-blood wizard in the Dark Lord's highest graces? You disgust me." He laid a well-placed kick to the creature's rib-cage and it retreated back into its wardrobe quickly.
Barty could hear his heart pounding loudly in his ears, the anger and fear pulsing through him. He never EVER wanted to hear those words out of his real Master's mouth. He would be the best follower ever, and Voldemort would never have to question why he keeps Barty around. Barty turned back to the door, but before he could go inside, a silver mist floated beside him and the stern hiss of Bealltrix whispered, "The Dark Lord orders us to fall back. He says to go back to the Riddle House. He no longer requires the prophecy, because he has other plans. So get your butt in gear, you twig!" He heard her high, tinkling laugh before the patronus mist disappeared.
Barty laughed a little; Bella was relentlessly teasing him and he was going to get her for this one, later. But right now, he needed to get back to the group so they could all go back to the Riddle House. Barty turned to go, but caught a flash of something out of his eye. The boggart was leaning out of the wardrobe and drilling Barty with a cold, harsh smirk. Barty turned and ran; he refused to ever hear the Dark Lord's laughter at him ever again. And that vow started right now. He would do everything for his master; even give his life. Anything to never give him any reason to laugh at Barty.