For the TV Show Episode Monthly Competition (month 1, prompt 13: Write a Salem Witch Trials!au)
"You have to run, my love," his mother says urgently, already throwing items into a sack. "You have to run and never look back. Not even your father can protect you now."
"What do you mean, Mother?" Barty asks, hurrying to her side. "What's happened."
His mother stops for just a moment to caress his cheek before immediately returning to the task at hand. "You've been accused, Barty. Rabastan and Rodolphus named you as their conspirator."
Barty feels his heart skip a beat. "Accused of what?" he asks, but he already knows the answer. The hysteria has grown, and more and more villagers have been dragged from their homes to face trial.
"Witchcraft," she says. "They're coming for you. Your father is leading them, but you can run."
"And look guilty? No need for a trial. I'll be hanged without question," he counters. "I must face this, Mother. God will see me through."
She starts to answer, but the door swings open. His father steps inside, a group of uneasy villagers behind him.
"Bartemius, this is madness," his mother insists.
"Step aside, Sarah," his father instructs. "This is out of my hands. The law must take it."
"You are the law!"
Barty doesn't give them a chance to argue. He steps forward, his hands in front of him. "Take me," he says. "Put me on trial. I've nothing to hide."
"There will be no trial, boy," Cornelius calls. "The Lestrange brothers confessed of their crimes, and you were named. That is evidence enough."
Barty's heart sinks to his stomach as understanding sets in. No trial. No chance to prove his innocence. He shakes his head. "They were lying," he says. "Our feud is known throughout Salem. Surely any reasonable man would see that they are condemning me to death."
He can see the hesitation in his father's gaze, and for a moment he feels a spark of hope. He will plead Barty's case, appeal to them and make them see that he is the victim of an elaborate scheme.
But Cornelius scoffs. "You expect us to believe that these men confessed to their dealings with the devil, put themselves in a situation where they will be sentenced to death, just so that you will be condemned?" he demands, and the crowd begins to murmur their agreement. "These men had nothing left to hide. Naming you wouldn't save them."
Barty feels the panic sour his stomach. He wants to scream that of course they would confess. He's heard the awful stories of the trials, the terrible things that happen to the accused in order to secure a confession. He has no doubt in his mind that once the brothers realized there was no escaping their fate, they had named Barty so that their feud can die with all of them. He almost laughs. Even he can appreciate the creativity behind their spite.
"Bartemius, if you fight this, you will be relieved of your post," Cornelius warns.
His father swallows dryly and nods. "Come along, Barty. Don't make this harder than it had to be."
…
"My one regret," Rodolphus says as they're lead to the stakes, "is that I will not have the pleasure of watching you die."
Barty clenches his jaw, inhaling deeply. He's tempted to pull away and punch the bastard. After all, he's set to die anyway. He should find some pleasure in his final moments. "Was a feud over a girl I never expressed interest in truly worth this?" he asks. "Are you really at peace with letting an innocent man die."
Rabastan snorts. "Hardly innocent," he laughs.
Before Barty can respond, they're brought to their separate stakes. Barty pulls against his bonds, but it's no use. Even if he could break free, there's no hope for escape. He holds his head high as Minister Dumbledore begins his speech about the dangers of evil, the fate of those who consort with the devil.
"May God have mercy on your souls," Dumbledore finishes, stepping away.
Barty turns his eyes to the sky. He doesn't want to see the torch, the flickering flames approaching. He tries to summon the old prayers his mother has taught him, but somehow they escape him when he feels he needs them the most.
He hears the soft thud, followed by the growing crackle as the flames begin to consume the wood. The heat rushes over his body. Barty listens as Rabastan begins to scream. He remains silent. He will die a dignified death.
At least that's what he had hoped. The heat rises, and the flames begin to lick his skin. He can feel the blisters form, and he gasps, inhaling an acrid stream of heavy smoke.
Panic hits his body. He begins to struggle, tears in his eyes. When he screams, his voice is raw from the smoke inhalation, and the sound is choked.
There will be no dignity in death, he realizes as he lets out a final scream before everything goes black.