Yo! Apologies for the wait. Depression is a bitch and fucks with what little motivation I still have. Anyway guys, I'm pretty sure I said pairing options are Severus, Barty, Lucius, or an OMC Death Eater. That's it. No one else. So if you're someone who asked for someone other than those four, well, you're out of luck. Either way, most people have asked for Barty so far, but I'm still undecided, so there's still time. Still, thank you to all readers so far!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters...

Harry landed hard on his left arm, and hissed in pain. He rolled over with a groan, and then sat up abruptly, realizing he most definitely wasn't in Hogsmeade anymore. Not unless the village had a graveyard in it, and he was quite positive it didn't.

"On your feet, Potter."

Before Harry could even blink, Moody had hauled him up, and keeping a firm grip on his uninjured arm, began leading him through the graveyard, and up a hill towards a-a large manor? Where the hell were they?

He didn't voice his question, too busy looking around as he was pulled up the hill, heading straight for the massive house. It looked pretty old, he noted rather absently, but not particularly imposing. It seemed decently well kept, although that lawn needed a fair bit of work-it would never ever meet Aunt Petunia's standards, that was for sure.

"In, Potter. Up the stairs."

Harry obeyed, and though it was surely a very late reaction, finally felt the beginnings of dread seeping into his gut. Something was definitely wrong here. At first, he had thought this might have something to do with the Tournament. But Moody was staying pretty quiet, and there certainly didn't appear to be anyone around, which made him think otherwise.

Slowly, and cautiously, Harry made his way up the large, wooden, creaky staircase, hearing Moody clunking up behind him, the man still gripping his right arm, which had turned at a rather awkward angle.

At the landing at the top of the stairs, was a room. Harry couldn't see much, since the door wasn't open all the way, but he saw some old furniture, and what may have been a fireplace. He didn't get a longer look, because his professor moved in front of him again, and led him down the oddly dusty hallway.

Dusty? Harry looked around closer. Yes, everything was dusty, very much so. Enough so, actually, that it had him wondering whether anyone actually lived in this place. Because he was beginning to think the answer was no. Or at least, had been no up until very recently.

...This didn't bode well for him at all, did it?

Moody came to a sudden stop, forcing Harry to do the same, the abrupt lack of motion pulling the teen out of his turbulent thoughts. Craning his neck, he managed to look around his professor, and realized that they had stopped because they had reached the end of the hallway and another closed door.

"Enter."

Harry blinked. The voice, a whisper, both clear and firm, had the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention almost immediately. Dread getting worse, Harry watched as Moody pushed the door open, before pulling him into the room.

Harry paid absolutely no attention on the room itself, his gaze instead locked on the...thing in the armchair. He knew what-who this was immediately. It didn't take a genius to figure it out, not to mention his scar had begun to burn a little. Honestly though, Harry wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry.

He settled on a strangled mix of both.

So, he realized, Moody was actually evil and was working for the other side this entire time, and had kidnapped him and brought him straight to the Dark Lord himself. Fantastic. Fanfuckingtastic. Fanshittuckingfast-

"The little hatchling is not as frightened as you he said you be, Master."

"He is not frightened?" the...thing spoke, sounding somewhat surprised.

The large, (Oh god that's a big snake!) coiled up the occupied armchair, hissing. "He is shocked. He is angry. He is annoyed. But he is not frightened. You said he would be frightened, Master. You promised me. The two-leggs are always more fun to chase when they are frightened. The hatchling is already boring me."

Harry just blinked. He wanted to answer, especially considering Voldemort clearly hadn't gotten the memo about Harry being a Parselmouth as well, and was about to answer as well, when yet something else shocking happened. A gasp escaped Moody, and when Harry turned, he was surprised to see the man double over, panting, his skin beginning to bubble. Harry recognized what was happening immediately. How could he not? He had gone through this himself in his Second year.

Polyjuice Potion. Moody wasn't Moody at all. Hadn't been this entire time. And while that explained why the man had kidnapped him, it didn't explain, well, most anything else.

So, which Death Eater had been masquerading as Mad-Eye Moody this whole time? Malfoy Sr? Er...someone...else? Harry didn't really know very many Death Eaters at all, honestly. He hadn't even known what a Death Eater even was until a handful of months ago. Ron thought just being in Slytherin meant you were one, but Harry didn't agree with that. Still, the only person he was positive was a Death Eater, was Lucius Malfoy.

But as the new person straightened up, it was pretty obvious that it wasn't a Malfoy at all. It was a man, who was fairly tall and lean. His skin was pale, his hair brown and a bit messy, his eyes dark. His age wasn't fully apparent, but he didn't seem all that old.

The first thing Harry thought was that this person didn't look familiar to him at all. And then, after a few seconds of staring, he realized that wasn't quite true, because the longer he looked at the man, the more he thought he did actually look vaguely familiar. But...why? Where had he seen him before?

"Barty. My most faithful. You have done well to bring Potter to me," little Voldemort spoke in his high, raspy voice.

Barty, whoever he was, immediately dropped to a knee, and bowed his head. "I thank you, My Lord." Despite his submissive posture, he had a rather maniacal grin on his face that had a shiver running down Harry's spine. A shiver of fear? Or of something else?

"This, Potter," said little Voldemort, seemingly deciding to explain, "is Bartemius Crouch Jr. You'll know his father, I presume. He has been in my service since he was barely older than you. Still a child, yet so loyal. So faithful."

Harry did indeed know who Barty's father was, though he wasn't quite sure what to think about it. The strict Ministry worker's son was a Death Eater? Weird, but...maybe not wholly unexpected. Maybe becoming a Death Eater had been Barty's way to rebel against his father?

Well, whatever. Harry had something more important to think about right now. Something that had been on his mind since he had first been forced to enter this big, kind of dusty room.

"Why am I still alive?"

Little Voldemort, whose appearance Harry really didn't want to focus on, made an odd sound that was probably supposed to be a chuckle, but sounded like anything but. "Killing you at present would solve nothing, Potter."

Harry blinked. That was not the answer he had been expecting. "If you don't want to kill me, then what do you want from me? Why am I here?"

It was Barty who answered him, elegantly rising to his feet once more, and peering down at him. "My Lord requires your aid, Harry Potter."

It's not particularly long, but at least it's an update. Looking forward to reviews! Laterz!