14
FRANK exhaled a shaking breath through his nose, standing at the front doors of the Hog's Head Inn, feeling grateful that he was now well and truly alone.
Lily and James had gone back home at the urging of Dumbledore when the group finally made it back to the castle and Albus had left instructions to Frank to wait outside on the front steps near the Hog's Head for Barty Crouch Senior to arrive within the hour.
Lupin had gone back to Headquarters as well as to wait for further orders from Albus, though he'd expressed the desire to stay by Frank, considering Alice was one of his closest, if perhaps not his first and best friends alongside Sirius, James, and Peter.
Dark and angry emotions churned through the pit of his stomach as visions of what fresh hell his wife might be going through under Crouch's roof, and before the rational part of his mind could tell him to stop, he shoved the doors open with a grunt.
Frank drew in a sharp breath as he stepped inside and let the doors of the decrepit old tavern shut gently behind him, his pupils dilating in the dark as his sight adjusted to the natural darkness of the tavern nestled within Hogsmeade.
His sharp, inquisitive eyes made a quick scan of his environment, and he instinctively stiffened as he watched Alice's former best friend and ex-boyfriend's father calmly and slowly approached Frank, his briefcase clutched in hand.
Bartemius Crouch Sr. glanced up from the doorway of the Hog's Head and did not immediately approach to close off the gap of space, rendering Frank rooted to his spot.
The older wizard was currently eyeing Frank Longbottom as if he were dirt on the bottom of his shoe as he scrunched his nose.
"So, Auror Longbottom," he said in a polite enough tone, ever mindful of even feigned courtesies to a fellow Ministry of Magic employee. "What can I do for you? And would you kindly tell me why I have been pulled from the comfort of my own home at the ungodly hour of going on almost one o'clock in the morning, Frank? What's so urgent you just had to see me off duty?" he grunted, no small traces of disgust laced throughout his tone as he slid into the booth at the opposite side of the booth's table, facing Frank.
Crouch Sr. grunted a half-hearted, "Thank you," under his breath to Aberforth, who placed a set of matching large tankards filled with Fire Whiskey in front of each wizard before shuffling away.
Frank could hear and feel the contempt dripping from within the man's voice. The older wizard was obviously aware of what had transpired between himself, his friends, Alice, and his own son.
He ground his teeth in annoyance and fought a lump in his throat, reminding himself to be civil to Crouch, considering this man was perhaps his best and only shot at finding his wife.
"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Mr. Crouch," Frank confirmed dryly, swallowing a lump in his throat. "I apologize for greeting you like this under such unusual circumstances, but I need you to tell me where you think your son is, Mr. Crouch. I think that he…" He paused, letting his voice trail off as he tried to choose his words carefully. "I witnessed it myself, sir. Your own son has kidnapped my wife from the Forest. I need you to tell me where he is."
Barty Crouch Sr. slowly raised his head and glowered at Frank upon hearing one of his own Auror's accusations against his son. It was at that exact moment that Frank noticed how drawn and gaunt Mr. Crouch's face was.
The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement looked like a tired and scared old man, hiding behind his posturing, and blustering as he stared down Frank Longbottom with a look of daggers.
Something was troubling the older wizard greatly, Frank could read his eyes. Barty Crouch Jr.'s father appeared as though he'd not slept a wink.
Yes, he was exhausted. He also was looking more than a little annoyed at Frank Longbottom's intrusion of his evening being interrupted.
His brow was creased with deep lines, yes, there was no doubt in his mind now, that Bartemius Crouch Sr. was gravely worried.
But about what remained a mystery, though Frank aimed to find out what ailed him.
There was a part of him that wondered if the man knew what his only son really was.
"It is not my son that has taken your wife, Mr. Longbottom," He growled through gritted teeth. "That is a very serious accusation, one which I shall not abide by. Spare me the homilies, Mr. Longbottom," Barty Crouch Sr. sniffed in disdain. "I believe we both know quite well why I agreed to come…here…"
His voice trailed off as his eyes briefly caught sight of a dust bunny floating past the corner of his peripherals. Crouch Sr. let his mind wander for a moment but made no further comment on the state of the cleanliness of the Hog's Head pub just then.
"It is only because of Dumbledore's Patronus informing me of Alice's unknown whereabouts, that I come, and the fact of the matter remains, Mr. Longbottom, that your wife is missing. The two of you alongside Alastor are some of my best Aurors. The Ministry needs good workers like you, fighters, warriors, who will work alongside me. Just the two of you alone have put in almost half the prisoners in their cells in Azkaban. That alone is no small feat, Mr. Longbottom, sir. I do not want to accept that my own flesh and blood could be responsible."
Almost as if by witch's curse, Crouch Sr.'s face changed, becoming warped as his face twisted and contorted in hardened grief. Frank fought the urge to recoil back.
Crouch Sr. drew in a shuddering breath and continued speaking, his voice low in what Frank could only describe as a growl.
"You should have stayed away, the affairs of my family are of no concern to you, boy, you should go home and let the other Aurors handle finding your wife, Mr. Longbottom, and wait for news from someone in your department. Alastor, I suspect, Frank, will be the one to let you know if they find your wife, sir." Barty Crouch Jr. Sr. declared, hatred seething behind his eyes as he narrowed his gaze. "Your wife is missing, you say? Alice? I must confess, I find this most difficult and troublesome to listen to and believe. She is a talented witch. One of the best our Ministry has taken on in a long time, Mr. Longbottom. You already know that I cannot put you on the task force responsible for apprehending the wizard or witch responsible, it's a conflict of interest, sir," he asked, sounding thoroughly disbelieving. "I have a hard time believing this news myself, she is quite a talented and gifted woman."
Frank nodded silently, not sure what else to say as he cautiously studied Alice's friend's father with a guarded expression.
"She—she was. Is," he quickly corrected himself, stumbling over his words and inwardly cursing himself for his nervousness as he raised his tankard of Fire Whiskey to his lips and heavily drank, all the while studying the man seated opposite him.
Bartemius Crouch Sr. was a man who would do what he needed to in order to achieve his desired results.
"For the greater good," was what he wished to adhere to though without the twisted mindset of old infamous Gellert Grindelwald, and he thought he had been able to do that.
The slight resistance within the Ministry, though not exactly overt, against his current reign as the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement's department was expected, though not to this extent.
Which made the rumors floating about the Ministry and the rest of the entire wizarding community of Great Britain…troubling.
Crouch Sr. felt older than he was, his hair greying already faster than he could blink his lids and look in the mirror twice. His body, though the wizard refused to think it much less admit it to himself, was aching more and more as the days passed, and the stress of it all hampered his ability to think, and scheme like Crouch was used to.
He had thought that by accepting the promotion within the Ministry, he would be more accepted, and his rule and policies implemented within the Ministry would become smoother and firmer in place.
How wrong he'd been. If anything, his new appointment had simply made things more hostile against him following these troubling rumors regarding his own son.
But…speaking on matters of the boy, Crouch Sr. felt another type of frustration in him. Anger, even, as he looked across the dust-covered wooden table of the booth in the corner of the Hog's Head at Auror Longbottom.
That Merlin-damned bastard of his. Nothing Barty ever impaired on Crouch Jr. ever stayed. He had warned him.
It galled him, the very thought, that his own son could be responsible for kidnapping a precious and sweetheart like Mrs. Alice Longbottom, a young witch who was pure, and saw the good in everyone even when in, and perhaps, especially when that person could not see it in themselves.
He had always known that his son harbored a fascination, perhaps even an unhealthy obsession on Alice.
He had attempted to get his son help, of which Crouch Jr. rebuffed his advances.
Her importance alongside her husband as their top Aurors within the Ministry's Auror Department was only compounded by the utter, devastating news of the contents of the Patronus that Dumbledore had sent him.
The Ministry's image was everything.
Frank and Alice Longbottom alongside Alastor were perhaps the top three of his best and brightest Aurors. The trio alone had apprehended more Dark wizards and witches and filled half of the cells in Azkaban Prison within the last three or so months alone.
Which made Mrs. Longbottom's disappearance that much more urgent.
The other Aurors needed role models, they needed Alice alongside Frank, despite the Longbottoms' still youthful ages, he knew.
And the fact that his idiot bastard had possibly had a hand in abducting Longbottom's wife and was treating her like trash did not sit well with Crouch Sr. at all.
There could be no possible truth to these rumors.
Frank's desperation and deep-rooted, burning desire to find his wife got the better of his plans, and he revealed his mission sooner than he had expected or perhaps was wise of him to do so, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and he was, at this moment, very much a desperate man.
"Mr. Crouch, sir, please." Frank, a man who was unused to begging anyone for anything, begged, as he bit down on his bottom lip. "I know I have no right to dream that you would help me, considering I know how difficult it must be, hearing me say these awful things about your son, but Alice is missing, a—and she's…pregnant, Barty."
Crouch Sr. startled at the revelation that Alice was expecting, and Frank couldn't be certain, but he thought he saw something shift in the older wizard's eyes.
"Are you certain of this?" he commanded as Frank's face shattered and the younger wizard looked away from him.
Frank Longbottom did not provide him with an answer, merely flinching and squirming on his side of the booth.
Barty Crouch Sr. huffed in frustration and folded his hands together, placing them on top of the table.
No matter. He had all the time in the world to question Auror Longbottom and needle the answer out of the young wizard.
Barty Crouch Sr. was a man who was known for his patience, if not coming across as cold, distant, and unsympathetic at times.
Frank rolled his eyes, no longer in a patient mood (not that he had been in one, to begin with) not in the mood to be tested.
"Yes, sir. I saw it myself. I don't know where the two of them could have gone. See for yourself in the Pensieve in the Headmaster's office if you wish," Frank snapped haughtily, fumbling in the pocket of his jacket, and procuring a tiny glass vial containing the single strand of silvery hair that contained his memory of seeing Alice abducted in the mouth of the cave in the woods.
Still fresh, Dumbledore had extracted it himself in the event Crouch Sr. was going to need to be persuaded, and he had a feeling that he just very well might need to be to help Frank.
Crouch Sr. exhaled loudly, closing his eyes, and raising his gangly fingers to the bridge of his nose.
Frank stiffened, his breaths catching in his throat, as he realized that Barty Crouch Jr. and his father had the same hands, the same long pale slender fingers that moved so nimbly and deftly.
He squeezed the bone firmly in the hopes of stalling the headache he could feel this night turning into.
"I shall review the memory at a more convenient time, Longbottom. If what you are telling me is true, then my son has committed a heinous act of treason against not only his family but his fellow wizards and witches as well. I cannot let such behavior go unpunished, and my boy is no longer any son of mine," Crouch seethed. "I cannot put faith in baseless accusations, boy, without proof, of which, for all I know, this memory of yous could be falsified. You could have tampered with it in a smear campaign to try to taint our family's name. I know that you and my son do not have the best of history, Mr. Longbottom, it is a well-known fact throughout the Ministry, Frank," he growled, tucking away the tiny glass vial inside his coat pocket without so much as sparing Frank's memory a second glance and letting out a sniff of disapproval.
Frank waited with gritted teeth while trying not to shiver as the Auror swore he felt the temperature drop ten degrees just then at hearing the cold undertones of Barty's voice.
Off in the not-so-far-off distance, he caught sight of Aberforth Dumbledore watching their conversation intently, wiping an empty tankard with a filthy old cloth.
The warlock's blue eyes shimmered with something akin to understanding and anger before Aberforth pointed look away.
Frank made a mental note to address it with Dumbledore's brother later, but for now, he focused on the much more serious problem now standing him angrily in the face.
Barty Crouch Sr. reached for his tankard and threw his head back as he took a hearty swig of Fire Whiskey, the alcohol burning his esophagus as it went down his throat.
He shuddered, the edges of his thin mustache twitching as he looked at Frank.
The older wizard's spiteful stare bole holes through Frank, who all but squirmed under the man's unfair scrutiny of Frank.
"I know what my son is, Mr. Longbottom. He has always been...rebellious and at times, problematic, but the gall, the audacity, that you have to sit here across from me and accuse my son of being a Death Eater, is abhorrent and beneath you," he snarled. "Don't think that I don't know or that you to take me for a fool. I am not," he boldly asserted, though Crouch Sr. felt a lump form in his throat and his chest constricts horribly.
It felt as though the words that had burst forth from his lips caused him great pain just to speak, his lips dripping venom. Crouch Sr. shoved down his feelings to the pit of his stomach and lifted his gaze to meet Frank's.
"I believe you know quite well why I came to see you," he accused, almost sounding angry at Frank, which Frank felt he did not deserve. Frank's feigned inculpability only deepened on his tired and stressed features. Barty Crouch Sr. continued, undaunted. "I received a stack of most unwelcome reports not just from you and your wife, Mr. Longbottom, over the last several weeks detailing my son's… choices," he informed the younger man, indignantly. "And now this. You dare to come to me with baseless accusations against my own son's character? You insult my son, Longbottom, you insult me, and that is something that I will absolutely not stand for," he growled, baring his teeth.
"Please, sir," Frank tried again desperately. "I—I'm not asking you for anything other than to—to go to your son's home and check. I'm afraid that if I go, he and I…don't have the best history, Mr. Crouch. I don't think you need me to—"
"Don't you dare patronize me," Crouch Sr. scowled. "I am well aware of my son's prior relationship with your wife, Longbottom. She is perhaps the only witch my son has cultivated an interest in throughout the years, and it's stayed that way. You ask me, her marriage to you was a waste. Would she have married my son, perhaps he might have taken more of an interest in pursuing a career alongside me at the Ministry. It is truly a shame indeed," Crouch Sr.'s tone was curt and hard.
For a moment, Frank was struck speechless. His mind was plagued by the same unanswerable questions that now tormented him again, though tenfold, and much worse.
Frank swallowed down hard as he tried to force himself to understand what it was that he could not currently begin to fathom.
Crouch Sr. had wanted Alice to marry his son? The moment Frank had received word from Crouch Sr. via a Patronus telling him that he had agreed to meet him here at the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade, Frank became determined he would not show emotion at the realization that Alice's life was in danger now that she was well and truly out of his grasp right now.
He'd sworn to himself that neither anger, nor bitterness at the failure he felt at not protecting her, nor hurt, nor heartbreak would be the cause of anything other than apathy when dealing with Barty's father.
Though upon hearing the confirmation that Barty Crouch Sr. had long since been suspect towards his son's intentions towards his wife and had done nothing about it, his resolve was failing him.
Frank sat rooted to the dirty wooden bench of the booth in the corner of the pub, his fingernails digging into his palms in an effort not to allow the hot, disgusting tears that swamped his throat to break free of him.
"How long have you known of his…obsession with my wife, sir? Days? Months? Years, sir?" Frank asked hoarsely, his dark eyes betraying the hurt that he felt.
Barty Crouch Sr. cleared his throat.
"A while now, my boy."
His answer was almost cold as he ignored the agony in Frank's query, seeming not to care as he witnessed as a wave of cold anger slowly overtook Frank's hurt.
"This entire time? You knew?!" Frank voiced quietly, his fingers curling around the handle of his now-empty tankard.
He was tempted to wave his hand and flag down Aberforth and ask for another refill, but he resisted the urge. He wanted to be sure he stayed sane and sober for this conversation, and he was already doubting his own ears.
"Of course I knew. How could I not know? Your wife is frequently all that my son talks about." Crouch inclined his head to the side.
Frank's mind reeled at the notions forming in his throats. Vicious sobs of betrayal and waves of anger welled in his chest.
He swallowed hard and forced them down as he reprimanded himself internally for allowing his emotions to get the better of him. Breathing out in the form of long, slow exhales, he relished as his Auror training finally kicked in and he became calmer.
Though it was admittedly difficult. Barty Crouch Sr. looked across the table at his most promising Auror, alongside his wife, of course, and then naturally, Alastor.
He could see the shadow of agony that his wife's disappearance was causing.
His options fleeing right before his eyes, Frank quickly came to the realization that no argument of motive or anything else he said was going to sway Crouch Sr.'s thoughts of his own son's actions or ways.
The only path left to him to try to get Alice back was simple heartfelt honesty.
He looked up and across the table at Crouch Sr., concern and worry etched on his features, making the young man look older.
"Please, sir," was all that Frank said. "I know what I am asking you to do is a lot to take in, but I beg of you. My wife is missing, sir. Please. Go to your son's home. Look around, see if Alice happens to be there, sir. If she is there, please find a way to get her out. If I were to go, I'd be putting her at even more risk than she already is, Mr. Crouch."
Crouch Sr. hesitated, running his tongue along the top wall of his teeth, and biting the wall of his cheek as he thought over the dozen or so possibilities in his mind.
"Very well," replied the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department, just a twinge of annoyance to his tone, as he raised his grey eyebrows nonchalantly and moved to stand up, grabbing his briefcase and adjusting a wrinkle in his robes. "I'll pay my son a visit at your request, Mr. Longbottom, if only to put an end to this foolish notion that you think my own son is the one responsible for your wife missing. And when I arrive at my son's home and do not find her, I shall be expecting an apology from you, Longbottom, as a start."
He spat the words as though they were bitter poison that lingered on his tongue as the older wizard straightened his gait, clutching tightly onto the handle of his case.
Only silence persisted in the dirtied and decrepit Hog's Head tavern, with the occasional bleating of Aberforth's goat in back.
Frank stood on his heels and turned slowly to leave. At this, Crouch groaned quietly and shut his eyes, wracking his brain for anything he could say to lighten the tension, though the damage was already done.
There was no taking back his words.
Barty Crouch Sr.'s last words transfigured themselves into a sponge that absorbed all the color from his colleague's face. He could see the glitter of tears on the edges of Frank Longbottom's brown eyes.
Damn. Crouch Sr. ground his teeth as he turned his head away sharply in regret. He had not intended to cut Frank with his barb, and for this, Barty Crouch Sr. was penitent that had he possessed a Time-Turner, he would have rewound the time and placated one of his best Aurors instead of condemning him.
He hates me. He hates me.
Crouch Sr. whispered it to himself, almost like a mantra in his mind, believing it.Just as my son hates me, so does Frank.
"I will go alone. I shall speak with my son to see what I can find out, Frank. Perhaps…" Barty Crouch Sr. started to say, the edges of his voice gnawed with remorse and annoyance.
Crouch almost wanted to say sorry to Longbottom, but it was a word that never registered in him, not even to his own son.
Frank paused by the front door to acknowledge the halting as he heard Crouch Sr. follow behind him to the tavern's entrance with the intent to leave, but he never looked back over his shoulder at him.
"Perhaps you ought to head home now, son. I'll head over to my son's home after this. Await my owl with further instructions, Mr. Longbottom," said Crouch Sr. in what he hoped was a kind-enough tone, considering circumstances.
Frank nodded before continuing on his way, opening the door to the tavern, and not looking back behind him.
"Fine," called out Frank through gritted teeth as he finally turned his head and swiveled his eyes to meet Barty Crouch Sr.'s hardened gaze with an equal one of his own, shooting the older wizard an admonishing glower. "Just keep in mind, sir, that while you stand here outside this tavern here in Hogsmeade doubting one of your best Auror's convictions, there is a race against time going on here. My wife is missing, sir. Someone, at some point, is going to find Alice, Mr. Crouch. And I'd like to make sure that it is us who finds her before anyone else," he growled, referring to the Dark Lord.
Crouch nodded solemnly and turned on his heels and preparing to Disapparate.
But just as he was about to vanish, however, he shifted his feet and looked back at Auror Frank Longbottom with critical interest, intrigue shimmering in his irises.
"Until we meet again, Auror Longbottom. I pray to Merlin and His Light for your wife's safe return. Of course, you shall be the first to know alongside the Hogwarts Headmaster if I locate your wife, sir. Hopefully, by then I shall have more information for you that we can begin to cultivate a search party for Mrs. Longbottom and see her returned home to you. Oh, and perhaps next time you call me, you could present verifiable facts instead of blatant and entirely false accusations?" he barked gruffly in a hoarse voice, no traces of warmth throughout his voice whatsoever.
And with that, Bartemius Crouch Sr. turned on his heels and pointedly Disapparated without sparing Frank so much as a second glance.
He left a troubled Frank Longbottom standing outside in the cold autumnal chill of the evening, mulling over the uncertainty of his wife's future, if Alice were even still alive, and what his next steps would be when he got home.