21
THE moment their feet touched down on the solid ground, Alice grunted and struggled against the creature's firm hold on her, letting out a terrified squeak as she felt a blindfold being wound around her eyes, the Dark creature's bone-white face the very last thing that she focused on.
She didn't see it happen, but she felt it, as a burst of rope shot from the creature's own wand, a crude design of someone's making, certainly not Ollivander's, Alice knew, as the rope coiled themselves around her wrists, binding her hands.
So, now she was without a weapon with which to defend herself, very much alone, and at the complete and utter mercy of this vampire, unable to see, unable to move much except to walk, but at least she could still use her sense of smell and hearing.
Wherever they were, the air smelled almost wet, and her footsteps echoed beneath the firm stone. By reflex, she reached out to grope for her bearings since she couldn't see, but her hand banged into something that felt like hard stone.
She wasn't sure still exactly where they were, but she felt confident that they were no longer in the woods.
But where were they? Where had this 'thing' taken her? Alice quickly lost track of how far she and the vampire from the Forbidden Forest had walked. It didn't take long for Alice to soak through the blindfold with her tears, and she was too afraid to be disgusted with her conduct to allow her Auror training to kick in and assess her current situation.
She was, as she knew, without her wand, Frank's status and whether or not he was alive, or dead was unknown to her, and she didn't know what this vampire wanted of her, or where it had brought her.
Her Auror training she had always taken pride in, shoving her emotions to the pit of her stomach when the situation called for it. She'd told herself that no matter what scenario she would find herself faced with, as long as she was prepared and had her wand, she could face anything. She was a former Gryffindor, a lioness! She would be proud, brave, strong, and smart.
Yet, she found herself in the clutches of a disgusting leech from the Forbidden Forest, its intentions towards her unknown, blindfolded, utterly confused, cold, and stricken to the bone with a horrible, debilitating fear.
It was cold, raw, lonely terror, rendering her unable to think straight, and Alice hated her training was failing her.
Alice yanked hard at the length of rope on her wrists that the vampire had bound her with by use of its own magic, but they only cut into the skin of her wrists and more tears came to Alice's eyes. She wanted to call out for help if someone friendly was nearby, or so she hoped, but she didn't want this vampire to be provoked into doing anything.
Instead, as Alice was forced to walk forward, the tip of its long claw pressed into the small of her spine, she continued to pull on her bindings hard in a desperate attempt to break through the ropes.
She felt a warm trickling of blood run down her wrist as she sliced into the soft skin. The cuts on her palm seemed to have stopped bleeding for now, and the fresh blood dripped over the crusty dry blood from before.
Alice tensed when she heard a creaking sound of what sounded like a floorboard nearby, and after an initial pause, she began yanking hard, her attempts more urgent. The only thing she was able to discern was how the air had grown damp and cold, and the creature muttered that they were drawing closer and closer.
Closer to what? Alice didn't like to think what might be waiting for her the second the blindfold was removed.
Though before she could say anything, a man's voice rent through the air behind her, reverberating off the walls of wherever 'here' happened to be.
"Master Crouch," the vampire's lowly voice hissed dangerously closed to her ear, causing the fine hairs on the back of Alice's neck to stand upright.
Her blood went cold at hearing the shuffling of another pair of footsteps and then someone coughed to clear their throat.
"Barty?" she asked fearfully, not sure why she called for him. What in Merlin's name could her friend be doing out here?
"Alice," came Barty Crouch Jr.'s voice, unmistakably soft and quiet. "You're here. I'm sorry." His voice broke and sounded almost muted, if not a bit watery, like he was fighting back tears. "It was the only way. I'm so, so, so sorry, sweet Alice. Truly. I am, darling."
She stopped dead in her tracks. Her breaths caught in her throat, hardly daring to believe it.
He was here. Oh, thank Merlin. She felt tears gather at the edges of her eyes and she thought she might weep out of relief now instead of fear. There was a chance that maybe, just maybe, she might be saved, providing she pleaded her case.
"Barty? What's going on? Why are you here? Why aren't you back at home? Where are we?" Alice whispered in a fearful, hoarse croak as she made a clumsy grab for the blindfold. She fumbled with the cloth's fabric as heavy footsteps thudded towards her current position quickly and she yelped as she felt his cold hands around her wrists.
The hands felt her firm and Alice immediately stopped struggling. Still, her body trembled violently, and her lips quivered.
"Shh," he whispered, and one hand left her lips so he could place a finger against her lips to shush her, though instead of calming her, it made her anxiety worse, and her body trembled even more.
"Please, Barty," Alice whispered, and the hand left her lips and stroked her cheek.
She felt Barty lean forward, not because the man touched her, but because she could sense him.
Only moments later, she felt his breath on her cheek and the distinct feeling of him almost burying his nose in her hair.
He breathed in slow and deep, causing Alice to hold her breath as she felt his breath ghost over her face as he breathed out, and then reached up to untie the blindfold's knot at the back of her head.
Crouch's hands, stronger, surer than hers, and had the added advantage of not being bound with a length of rope, caught them out of the way and peeled away the blindfold.
Every nerve on her body went on high alert.
Barty is afraid. Somehow, that thought alone terrified Alice more than anything else that could possibly follow this, and that was more than enough for her right now.
Every baser instinct she had was screaming at her to turn on her heels and just make a run for it.
It took her a moment for her eyes to adjust to the blinding white light that suddenly bombarded her eyes, as the lighted tip of someone's wand end was suddenly thrust into her face without any warning, but when they did, they looked up to Barty, and the pair found themselves in an unfamiliar dining room.
She stood blinking owlishly at the man dressed in black until her vision slowly but surely cleared.
And waiting for her, standing tall, straight, and proud, bone-white hands clasped neatly in front of his middle, silent, and stone-faced was the Dark Lord himself.
Alice's eyes widened at the mere sight of the tall, pale man.
Slowly, the wizard's crimson-red eyes moved from hers and looked down the length of Alice's body in her simplistic blue dress.
He had that warped little smile on his face she had heard Dumbledore speak of a time or two in times past that whenever the old warlock would speak of it, she could tell that Voldemort smiling unnerved Albus, and now she could see just why that was. Surely, it was never a good sign when he smiled.
Suddenly, any words that she might have prepared to ask Barty what she was doing here, why this creature had brought here, came to mind, and she felt bile once again rise in her throat.
"I…I…" she stammered, her tongue feeling thick in her mouth, and the Dark Lord cocked his head to the side to look at Alice's pale features, but Lord Voldemort only stared at Alice curiously.
When she could find nothing to say, the Dark Lord turned his back towards her and walked towards the hearth behind him at the end of the dimly lit dining room.
The room they found themselves in was basically empty, and whoever's house they were in was large enough, suggesting the family came from wealth. They must have, for Alice had never been in a dining room where there was a hearth on one end of the wall.
Her stomach turned as the Dark Lord kept his back to her, and when he turned around, in his hand was his wand, she once again felt terror seize her heart.
"No…please, please, don't…" she begged as the Dark Lord raised his wand.
She continued to splutter until the man flicked his slender wrist and instead of the inevitable flash of green light that she thought was to come her way, a chair magically appeared out of thin air behind her, and her legs seemed to have a mind of their own as the chair was pushed beneath her, forcing her to sit.
Her breaths caught in her throat as Lord Voldemort lowered his wand hand to his side and calmly strode forward.
"Y—you don't have to do this," she squeaked, realizing how bloody stupid her words were once she said them.
Whatever he was doing to her, of course, he didn't have to, he wanted to.
The Dark Lord seemed to emphasize this by bringing his wand lower, grazing it over her lap, and sliding it down her thigh, tenderly.
"Of course, I do, witch," the tall pale man spoke in a smooth, languid voice, almost a hiss, that reminded her of a snake, and then she remembered that the wizard was a Parseltongue.
Alice swallowed down hard past a lump in her throat, hardly aware that Barty had moved to stand behind her, resting his hands on either of her shoulders, as if he thought that would protect her.
"Why are you doing this? I—I don't understand," she whimpered, and Lord Voldemort towered over her as she sat in front of him, and he placed a bone-white spindly finger to her lips.
She fell silent, terrified of the man's wrath, and waited as he brought up his wand to her face.
She let out a little cry and squeezed her eyes shut, again waiting for the inevitable flash of light she was sure Voldemort would send her way.
But it didn't come. Alice peeked open an eyelid to stare up into the man's face, only to find that the Dark Lord had pursed his thin lips into a rigid line and was staring at her before he tore his gaze away to address Crouch.
"So, this is the young witch you've been obsessed with all these years?" Voldemort sighed and clucked his tongue, shaking his head almost as if disappointed with Barty. "Not very impressive, I'm afraid, Bartemius."
"I…I…what?!" Alice's breaths hitched in her throat as she glanced around the dim room disdainfully, trying to disguise just how frightened and how off guard she had been.
Barty had—Barty had done this to her, played this horrible trick?! Unable to melt the shock dribbling on her mind, she glanced at Barty out of the corner of her eye, and one glance was almost more than enough.
To judge the way the young man was hunching his shoulders, his dark gaze staring fixedly at the ground in front of his boots rather than anywhere but at her, Alice keenly observed, this hadn't been any more to her best friend's taste than to hers.
Alice stiffened and froze, all the while the Dark Lord watched the young brunette witch droop her head in defeat and recognition of the dire precariousness of the position she found herself in. Unless, of course, she chose to cooperate with him.
It would be a shame to spill any magical blood, especially a pure-blooded witch-like she was, as intelligent and gifted as she was rumored to be. Perhaps there would be no need, providing she cooperated with his demands.
Lord Voldemort allowed himself the brief feeling of gratitude that he'd not had the rest of his men kill the witch when he had the chance. Instead, he chose to have faith in one of his most loyal of followers that he was making the right decision in entrusting Bartemius to bring her here to him, that the two might exchange in a dialogue with one another….
Lord Voldemort's gaze shifted, and the Dark Lord could not help but take in the strange sight in which his lieutenant was eyeballing him now. A mixture of unbridled, poorly disguised fear and…something else in the young man's burning dark eyes that Voldemort could not begin to identify, and for a fraction of a second, it unnerved him.
Voldemort gritted his teeth as a vein in his brow twitched as he repressed the urge to roll his eyes, thinking this witch was a distraction for Crouch, one that he should not have abided by. He confessed himself disappointed in his most loyal servant.
Voldemort's lips pressed together and then released in an agitated fit, his tongue darting out to wet the dry skin as he looked at the witch who was Crouch's obsession, the reason for his mind totally consumed with lust and rage these last few years.
A little sound left his lips, a cross between a loud breath and a sigh that made the woman flinch, as he brought his wand up to rest in his hands again. He watched, fascinated, as the girl's brilliant blue eyes widened in terror and disbelief at the sight of him as he leaned forwardly slightly, looming over the witch now seated captive in the chair in front.
"It does…. pain me so to have you escorted here in such an uncivilized fashion. Indeed, the loyalty of your companion is admirable. Bartemius almost suffered dying rather than choosing to bring you here, my dear."
"B—but why am I here? I—no, please, I—I didn't mean anything by it, I swear!" Alice whimpered, looking up at the Dark Lord as she watched as the man's eyes narrowed in anger, tugging futilely on the length of rope that still bound her wrists.
His red, slit-like eyes moved up to look at her wrists and his head tilted to the side just slightly then.
"Because, my dear, there are…questions that surround you, questions that need answering, and you're going to provide them for me, Mrs. Longbottom," he spoke in a smooth, languid tone. The Dark Lord offered Alice a smile that was almost apologetic without being sympathetic, though, in actuality, his expression was apathetic. "Please, do not blame Bartemius for bringing you here. I would have found you sooner or later."
Alice drew in a breath at Voldemort's words and could only watch, stricken in horror and fear as he turned towards Crouch and walked towards him.
"Bartemius," he muttered lowly in a soft voice, almost quiet.
Even Alice had trouble catching all the words.
"I always knew you were my…most faithful. That you would not fail me in this regard."
Alice's blood chilled in her very veins.
"What?" The word escaped the witch's lips as a low, disbelieving growl, the word itself sounding on the brink between that of shock and anger. Alice's gaze flitted from the Dark Lord and then to Barty, noticing how he had trouble meeting her gaze. "Barty?" she whispered, her lips quivering.
Crouch closed his eyes and reveled in the sound of her voice. Even in her anger, Alice's voice was sweeter to him than any music or any birdsong. Crouch did not answer her.
Instead, the Dark Lord turned and pasted an almost amused smile upon his face, the edges of his lips twitching a bit.
"You mean you did not know this of your…friend?" he inquired, not even bothering to give his response any sort of emotion whatsoever. "He is one of my best, my dear."
Shock jolted through Alice's belly at the implications of Lord Voldemort's words, what the wizard standing in front of her was implying now. She felt her face drain off what little color was left as she looked at Crouch, her gaze stricken as she shook her head, not wanting to believe it. A horrible coldness wafted over her at his betrayal.
He was…a Death Eater?!
He really had been working for the Dark Lord this entire time, then…
"No...Is it true? Tell me it's not true, Barty," she cried, her voice escaping her throat as a choking sob.
Crouch's heart broke a third time into a million fragments, never to be made whole again, at the sound of the hatred he heard in sweet Alice's tone.
It was clear to Barty that he could no longer deny the obvious.
The Dark Lord was here in front of them had had already sanctioned the revelation. He could only do his best to lessen the damage to both Alice and her husband at this point and pray to Merlin that the Dark Lord kept his word. He lifted his head, just barely able to meet Alice's piercing gaze and look and see her heartbreak.
"Yes." He admitted, his voice barely a whisper as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and showed it.
The Dark Mark, branded on his inner forearm.
For a moment, Alice was struck speechless as she gaped at it, her lips parted open in shock and almost forgot about the much bigger problem in the room with them, Lord Voldemort, as her mind struggled to process the weight of his one-word confession.
Why hadn't Barty told her the truth when they were alone earlier? Had it been that he didn't think she could handle the truth, that they had suspected him all this time but could never prove that it was him?! Her resolve fast failing her, her bound hands resting shakily in her lap, she dug her fingernails into the skin of her palms in an effort not to allow the heartbroken tears that flooded her throat to flow to the surface and failing in that regard as tears started to slick down the slope of her temple.
"How long?" she asked hoarsely, her blue eyes betraying her hurt as she turned her head away.
Barty Crouch Jr. cleared his throat "A while," was all he could summon enough strength on his throat to answer, his answer sounding almost as agonized as Alice's question she had just posed.
A wave of ice-cold anger seeped into the pit of her churning stomach as the Dark Lot stood, watching, and waiting in silence, overtaking her hurt.
Alice could hardly believe what she was hearing from her friend. It couldn't be true. "This entire time? You—you sided with him? Why, Barty? How—how could you?" she voiced quietly, her words more of a hollow statement than a question.
Her mind reeled at the notions now forming in her thoughts. Cruel sobs welled within her burning chest.
She swallowed hard and forced them back down. So, it seemed then that her entire friendship with Barty was all based on nothing but lies and secrets. Frank had been right. This was bad, very bad.
"I trusted you!" she screamed, jerking against her wrist restraints as she bolted upright to her chair. If she could have, Alice would have slapped him across the cheek for what he had done, and Crouch was lucky that she was no longer in possession of her wand, for she would have jinxed him so hard into the next room that he wouldn't be waking up for days, at least.
"Al, Alice, look at me," came Barty's desperate, pleading tone, though the man's normally confident voice cracked and broke as he sounded on the brink of tears himself, swallowing a lump in his throat. "Just…give me a chance to explain…"
Slick tears poured down her lids as she pointedly turned her face to the left, refusing to meet his gaze.
"Explain what?!" she sobbed in a shaking voice. "You don't need to explain yourself to me at all, Crouch. You—you lied to me! What have you done?" Her voice cracked as it broke and faltered as she broke down into quiet pitiful sobs.
Barty's face, if it was at all possible, paled a shade further until the man's entire face had gone ashen.
"N—no, Alice, listen to me, that is not true! I—I wanted to tell you, sweetheart, I tried!" he shouted. Crouch looked as though he wanted to say something more to her, though the Dark Lord's quiet but impatient voice cut through the uncomfortable silence.
"Perhaps we could settle this dispute later? There are a few matters which I wish to discuss, Mrs. Longbottom," Lord Voldemort interrupted, the smug grin on the man's face just stirring more of the revulsion and fear that Alice currently held for the wizard. "Leave," he ordered in a harsh bark towards Barty.
Barty did not need to be told twice, though as he bolted for the doors to head out, though not before casting a longing look back over his shoulder towards Alice, his eyes filled to the brim with sorrow and self-loathing.
But Alice point-blank refused to look the man in his dark eyes as she felt the strength leave her legs and she collapsed back into the chair she had just vacated. She immediately looked away from him with disgust. Alice was sure if she did happen to make eye contact with the man who had once stolen her heart before she had met Frank, then she might vomit.
Disgust was the only emotion surging through her veins at the moment. With herself, for allowing herself to be so naïve as to Crouch's true behavior. How blind she had been! He had…he had loved her once, she had kissed him, for Merlin's sake, to thank the man for saving her life back at his house, and now, the man had as good as gotten Frank killed probably and was offering her up as bait for Lord Voldemort to be killed. All the time they'd spent was utterly worthless.
He had never cared for her, and it had all been a lie. At this point, Alice figured it would be better if the Dark Lord were to raise his wand and kinder just to kill her now where she sat rooted to the spot, too heartbroken to move at all.
The door as Crouch quit the room slammed shut in front of her, making Alice startle in her chair. Everything in her clenched in horror as her former friend had left her alone with the most fearsome wizard in all of the entire European continent.
And she found herself at a total loss.
She felt Lord Voldemort coming closer and saw the wizard wave his wand so that a second chair conjured itself out of thin air and he made a visible show of dragging it across the room until he set it front in front and sat down in it.
"You are not hurt? The…disgusting leech was not too rough with you, I take it, witch?" he stated.
Alice gazed at Lord Voldemort in incredulous shock and disbelief, the question sounding more foolish than ever before, especially from him, and it was something she never thought she'd hear coming from him.
But then again, she never thought she would ever meet the man himself. His tone almost sounded… disarmingly polite, and it put her senses immediately on high alert. She almost snapped at him in anger and hurt before some reason came back to her mind, and her hand instinctively drifted to her flat belly, knowing she had her and Frank's baby to think of.
Stay calm, she scolded herself. Stall for time. Do whatever you can, say whatever it is you think he wants to hear if it means that it keeps you alive… Alice nodded to herself and came back to herself at the sound of what sounded like a cutlery clinking against delicate china. She blinked owlishly at the strange sight of Voldemort holding out what appeared to be a silver goblet with a silver cobra engraved on the stem.
"Drink it," he commanded, practically shoving the goblet to Alice's chest. "It's a calming tonic. For your nerves. There is no cause for alarm around me, witch…I do not wish to spill more magical blood, especially not a fine pureblood specimen such as yourself," he said, letting his voice trail off.
Alice nervously peered into the goblet as she accepted it with shaking fingers, though Lord Voldemort still did not make a move to let go of the goblet. The tea or whatever beverage this was held a scarlet-colored look.
Thick and garish, with a tangy, bitter smell—not appetizing in the least. Alice looked down at the strange substance in the cup and sniffed the tea, fighting the urge to crinkle her nose in disgust and pull a face.
This certainly didn't look like any sort of tea she had ever drunk.
"What is it?" Alice asked, unable to help to pull a face as the bitter smell wafted to her nose and sent her stomach churning in revulsion. She squeezed her eyes shut as bile rose in her throat, and for a second, Alice thought that she was going to vomit.
"Tea. I have not forgotten my manners to a lady. Now drink," he commanded, pushing the goblet forcefully towards Alice's lips. Alice hesitated. She especially wasn't going to drink anything the Dark Lord offered her. For all she knew, he could have poisoned it, and as a general rule, she didn't like to drink things without knowing what went into them.
But before Alice could politely refuse and make up some sort of excuse, even if it were the simple and plain truth that she wasn't thirsty (which wasn't an excuse at all, it was the truth!), Lord Voldemort, in a show of force, shoved the goblet towards Alice's lips and forced the cup forward, causing some of the scalding liquid to go down Alice's esophagus.
"Drink it." His command escaped his thin lips as almost a low gravelly hiss.
Alice coughed, choking, and spluttering as she turned her head sharply to the side and accidentally dropped the goblet, though before the liquid could splash all over the floor, the Dark Lord swiftly waved his wand, causing it to vanish, as did the cup.
More than a little bit of the tea had gone down her throat. It left a bitter, lingering taste of old leaves and grass cuttings on her tongue as she wildly coughed, her lungs burning for air.
"I—I feel much better now, th—thank you," she gasped, grabbing a fistful of the skirt of her dress, and clutching onto her as she slowly turned back around, to find Lord Voldemort staring at her.
"You should drink some more of it later. I'll have someone bring you another goblet," he said fluidly.
Later. The word caused her skin to shiver, though she repressed the shudder that violently clawed its way down her back. That meant that the Dark Lord still had some sort of a use for her, though what that use or usages might be, she wasn't sure that she cared to know the truth. She resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow at the wizard.
Lord Voldemort was surely toying with her. Attempting to make her feel safe and secure by offering her tea, and then, when he saw the opportune moment, he would likely catch her off guard when Alice's defenses were already down and reeling from the pain and sting of Barty's betrayal and get whatever reaction he wanted out of her then when she was already at her lowest.
She was no fool. She was an Auror, after all, and did not lower her defenses, and despite her mind plagued with a dozen and one hurtful emotions at what Barty had done, she forced her mind to remain blank. The Dark Lord would get nothing.
He was going to have to do better than a lousy cup of disgusting tea and feigning concern over her well-being to pry any information out of her. She was still at a loss for what Lord Voldemort wanted with her. She was essentially a nobody to him.
If there was one thing her Auror training had taught her well, it was to see through deception and lies, and yet, Alice cursed herself for not being able to see it as it pertained to Barty. That the truth had been right in front of her, yet she had been too naïve and blind and ignorant to see. It was time to dig up her repressed instincts since this whole ordeal with Crouch had started and let the knowledge of battle and strategies out. She'd hidden from who she was long enough.
The pair of them were silent for a few moments because the young brunette witch was observing every single little detail of the darkest wizard of all time in front of her, trying to piece the man together in her mind, but he gave nothing away.
Just a stone-cold aura that made her want to shirk.
Finally, Alice couldn't take the silence anymore and broke it.
"What is it you want?" she demanded, her fingers curling tightly into a fist around a hunk of the material of her blue dress. "I take it that it's not for the sheer joy of having my company, my lord."
She wasn't sure where that last little outburst had come from, nor had she meant to spit the words with such hostile venom.
But it was already too late to take back her words. The cruel wizard smiled, and Alice shivered, waiting with gritted teeth as she waited for Lord Voldemort to divulge his intentions for bringing her here.
Surely, it wasn't just to talk with her. She was, in his eyes, a worthless witch, a nobody whose viewpoints did not align with his cause for domination and total control over the wizard race. Merlin, how frightening his smile really was!
"How perceptive of you, witch," the Dark Lord drolled smoothly, putting his fingertips together and rocking them slightly. "There are…quite a few questions that surround you," he said, frowning.
"And what makes you think I will answer them?" Alice asked angrily, not missing so much as a beat.
Voldemort merely chuckled, a terrifying and haunting sound that caused a shiver to rip through Alice's body.
"Because, witch, it would truly be a shame to spill even more magical blood this eve. I have a proposition for you, my dear, one that I think only a fool would decline. And you, Mrs. Longbottom, as a top Auror, do not strike me as a fool. While I admit that you hardly fit into my…ideals, it would be foolish to ignore your talent. A woman with skills such as yours, I can use."
Sensing Alice's confusion as her eyebrows rose up so far up onto her forehead that they almost disappeared into her hairline, Lord Voldemort was almost looking bored as he snapped his fingers, and at his command, the door swung open so loudly that it banged against the wall, causing Alice to flinch as she dared not peek over her shoulder to see what was waiting for her.
But in the end, she knew if she didn't, she would regret not looking. The Dark Lord must have seen or sensed her hesitation and confusion, for before she could ask, the tall, powerful wizard spoke up.
"You surely understand, Mrs. Longbottom, that I am not asking you to be a Death Eater. I cannot allow that, considering your family has allowed your blood to become tainted," he spat. A flicker of anger darted across his face. "However, I ask that you ally yourself with my cause. You are a pure-blood witch, my dear Alice," he stated, seeming to relish in the shudder of fear and revulsion that went down her back upon hearing her name coming from his lips. "Work as a guard or a scout for me, my dear. The reward for this is you shall never want for naught, and you will survive past this night….and…well. See for yourself."
His voice trailed off and his red eyes took on almost a glassy look.
Perhaps against her better judgment, Alice dared to follow his gaze, his last words sending an ice-cold chill through her.
Barty Crouch Jr. was dragging something down the hallway, and a wave of lower-ranking Death Eaters clad in their black robes and horrible masks that resembled skulls rushed in and took their place along the sides of the wide dining room.
Though Barty was very evidently in charge. In his grasp was a prisoner of the Dark Lord, filthy from whatever had happened to him, wherever Lord Voldemort's men had been keeping him. Dirt covered his ruined clothing. The prisoner was tall, his dark hair matted and tangled, dried with congealed blood. The captive writhed and screamed, hollering as he fought to get away from Crouch and the rest. Crouch had only traveled a few feet when the prisoner lifted his chin and looked up at Alice.
Alice felt her heart stop and the color drained from her face in realization as Crouch shoved the man into a kneeling position on his knees beside her. The hostage in Barty's grip was poor Frank.
And Frank had been beaten within an inch of his life.