*This is the sequel to my story Champion, which is posted on my page. You should go read that before this if you're interested, it'll make a lot more sense that way! :) Without further ado,
Prologue - Crouch
Lucius Malfoy is standing in the middle of his dimly lit study when I step out of the Floo. He is stiff and doing his best to hide his anxiety, though it still rolls off him like a foul smell. I don't bother keeping the smirk from my face as I limp past him to his antique hulk of a desk. It is a fine piece: black walnut, as grand as Lucius believes himself to be. Useless objects are arranged on its surface: a cut glass Sneakoscope, a set of extravagant peacock feather quills, a wand stand with his wand unwisely left in, a small, stern portrait of old Abraxas Malfoy, and a more recent image of Lucius with his wife and the sprog I had the misfortune to teach, looking very staid and respectable. I can't help but sneer. I hear him stifle a gasp as I go around and sit in the green leather wingback behind the desk, leaving the guest chair for him. I look up at him steadily once I am settled, my dead eye stinging. He is clearly stunned by the move, grey eyes wide and furious, and I stare back, a mute challenge. He is seeing my father's face, Polyjuice giving me his form, but he knows who I am. He knows where the power lies here. At last, with barely a tremble to his lip, he does as he's been silently commanded, as I knew he would, and takes the plain wooden chair opposite me. The guest seat, in his own study. His humiliation is sweet, but direly insufficient.
"Good evening, Lucius," I say smoothly.
"Crouch."
I don't even twitch. I spent years hating my name and am only now beginning to appreciate it again. My father did his best to restore the name to 'respectability' during the years of my incarceration in his home, but he's good and dead now. I was glad to personally make sure of that, and the legacy of the name is mine to build as I please now. And I intend to build it in the image of the Master whom Lucius and I both serve. Even if the plans which will bring our Master to power require me to wear my father's face in the same way I wore Mad-Eye's for much of last year. The injuries I sustained in service of his mission were extreme, but worth it, all worth it since they brought about my Master's resurrection. With the bone of his father, Pettigrew's hand, and the blood I obtained from Potter before escaping Hogwarts, our Master stands on the brink of renewed dominance and anything I must sacrifice to make that happen is worth it... Even if the sacrifice is to tolerate the company of the worthless traitor Malfoy for part of an evening. After all, his role in our Master's plan will be of some help in the coming months, and begin to redeem him after his many failures.
Discomfited with my silence, Malfoy clears his throat crossly, pride rising again after the whipping it took when I stole his chair. "Your message said you had a matter of urgency to discuss with me, Crouch."
Instead of answering immediately, I continue to glower. He needs to understand how small he is here, how worthless and disposable. Any attempts at prematurely regaining face must be quashed: he must be kept humble so that he never has the foolish nerve to think he can disobey our Master again. But his cowardice and my continued silence serve me as well, since a lance of pain has entered my leg, just above the knee, and it would be difficult to speak and handle it at the same time. I grip my knee under the desk, tensed against the oncoming agony. I would not choose to have an episode in front of Lucius of all people, but perhaps even this can be turned into a lesson, a weapon…
The pain grows, burning tendrils sliding down my calf towards my heel, and I grit my teeth and grunt. The pains have been less frequent over time, but no less intense. I had no time for care or finesse in the magic I performed when I forced the Cup to return me to the Little Hangleton graveyard, and was already tired from my interference in the third Triwizard task. Between Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, and the various and sundry others bearing down on me, I couldn't bring Potter with me as I had wanted, as I would not have had to do if the Mudblood Linese hadn't wrecked our careful plans. She would pay for that, I would make sure…. The Cup's facility as a Portkey had been exhausted, but as I was the one to lay the spells in the first place, I was able to renew them quickly, if clumsily, and get me and the blood I barely managed to collect from Potter to my Master. However, the transportation had not been without consequence. The spells were incomplete and temperamental, and reacted badly to the false body I wore. I arrived to the graveyard with Mad-Eye's peg leg and eye in flames and even when they were extinguished and I had returned to my own form, the pain had not abated. Even now, my eye and leg are alternately numb and agonizingly painful.
At first it was constant. Once our Master had regained his body and required little help, Pettigrew earned his keep by tending me. After some days, the blessed numbness began and I could move and think and function. My Master and I discussed how I could best be useful, and decided that I should again disguise myself. We needed someone to know what the Ministry was planning next, and who better than someone I could easily impersonate and was already conveniently dead? We had Snape brew more Polyjuice, and Pettigrew snuck onto the Hogwarts grounds and retrieved the bone that was my father's transfigured body. I wrote to Fudge, as my father, explaining that 'I' had been suffering an illness but was ready to return to work. The fool swallowed it at once, as even he knew he couldn't easily get by without Bartimeaus Crouch Senior to do all the difficult work for him.
And so I had taken my father's place at the Department of International Magical Co-operation in September. I had spent the two months since then cleaning house of anyone in the office who knew my father well, and covering my tracks so that no one would suspect the subterfuge. Dumbledore and Moody had insisted on an inquiry into 'my son's' reappearance and suspicions of the Dark Lord's, and I encouraged Fudge to take the allegations seriously. Auror teams were sent out, I underwent a farce of an investigation into how 'my son' could have survived, and meanwhile worked with my Master to ensure nothing was ever found. The pains in my eye, often misinterpreted by others as my head, and leg had earned me sympathy and supported my story of having been ill. By and large everything had gone just as my Master and I had planned. There can be no treatment for the pain, of course, lest someone discover the secret. So I suffer, and find gladness in the searing pain, because the pain is proof of my devotion to my Master, and my Master loves me for it.
But Lucius does not understand. "Crouch?" he says again, growing dubious as my silence continues. I can feel myself sweating with the pain, the invisible flames ripping through my leg, and I can't withhold a raw moan. "Crouch?" Alarmed now, he begins to rise from his seat, but I lift my head and practically spit in anger.
"Look upon loyalty, filth," I snarl. "Look upon loyalty and know your place."
Lucius recoils into his chair, eyes wide and afraid. He'd never dare to argue though, not when his position is still so tenuous. I gasp through the retreating pain, until it is mild enough that I can straighten up and return to the matter at hand. Lucius has regained his composure as well, and is regarding me balefully. I look back coolly. After a moment, I say, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, "Our Master has a task for you, Lucius. You are being given the chance to earn your place back amongst the ranks. Succeed at this and some of your failures—not all, of course, for there are so very many—shall be forgiven." He nods woodenly. I smirk. "Your performance in the coming months must be believable. Our Master fears that if you know too much of what is happening, you will not be able to convince those who matter of your innocence. It's as much for your safety as anything, that you won't be told certain things. You understand." The cords of his neck stand out as he swallows his obvious anger, and I smile, full of venom. "Don't you?"
Resentment burning in his eyes, he nods.
"Good. Far be it from me to question our Master, of course, but if it had been up to me I would have cast you into Azkaban for the duration of the combined sentences of all of his most loyal supporters. I tried to convince him of this—" Lucius stiffens, fingers twitching. His wand still rests in its stand on his desk between us, but he knows better than to reach for it. "—but he is wiser than I, and intends to use the privileges and status you have achieved these last dozen years, which, never forget, you gained by betraying our cause and our Master, to further our ends. I have already begun by impersonating my father in the Ministry," I say, rising from the wingback and beginning to pace. The pain has completely receded now, and I need to practice walking even without sensation in that part of my leg. I wear a brace on my ankle to keep my foot from flopping about like a dead fish, and it is an ever-tricky skill to swing my leg in such a way that the damn thing lands properly. This part of the plan is largely my idea, and the fact that my Master likes it enough to allow me to orchestrate it is a pleasure like no other. I can't sit still while filled with such pride and satisfaction. "But there are other, subtler aspects to our Master's plan than simple infiltration. And it is in this that he requires your help, meagre though it may be." I cast a withering look over his angry features. "You remember the nuisance the Order of the Phoenix made of itself last time. Thanks to Snape—" My lips twist around his name. No matter how well the man has convinced our Master of his persistent loyalty, I have my doubts. Our Master was not there at Hogwarts to see how Snape clung to the doddering Headmaster. "—we know that Dumbledore has restored that organization, though they have taken no action as of yet due to the evident actions of the Aurors and our keeping such a low profile." Fury bubbles in my chest at the slowness of our plans: already November and our Master still must hide from the public eye! I press the emotion down, soothing the rage by reminding myself that it was my Master himself who counselled patience. Our rapid gains may have been part of what led to our equally rapid collapse the first time. Now, we must take our time, build a foundation of strong, true believers, and then expand into the public from there. And he is wise to think so. The only issue has been to collect these true believers! Lucius is a fool, Snape a snake in the grass, Pettigrew worse than useless… Bloody man couldn't even kill the Mudblood Linese! It was shocking that he'd managed to find and aid our Master at all, and our Master was beyond kind to reward him with a new hand after such a debacle… I draw a deep breath.
"Our Master understands that our first step must be to undermine Dumbledore and his allies, and to do that, certain… actions must be taken. Actions of which you will be a primary target, Lucius. And you must support the line I will have the Minister take…" Lucius looks grudgingly more interested as I describe the broad strokes of the scheme. I don't tell the other man everything, obviously. Lucius doesn't need every detail. "The more people who truly believe this, the better, hence why you must tell no one what I have said, even your wife, good pureblood woman though she is. I will not tell you exactly when to expect this to happen, but your son will be home for the Christmas holidays to heighten the public's sense of horror. Do not fear, the brat will not be harmed."
Lucius immediately loses his attentive mein and swells furiously. "I don't care how much our Master appreciates your services, Crouch, you'll not speak of my son in such a manner!"
"Oh, I'll not?!" I growl, rounding on him. To his credit, and somewhat to my surprise, Lucius does not shrink away. "Your welp is an embarrassment. Were a son of mine to turn out to be such a limp-wanded coward, I would drown him. He parrots our rhetoric without zeal or comprehension. When I taught him last year, a Mudblood outdid him, Lucius! Constantly! A girl no older than him! Better spellwork, better comprehension, better exam marks! I could have wept to see what the next generation has to offer! My disdain for him was not faked, trust me. Your position is still precarious with our Master, and make no mistake: training your heir in the proper way would not hurt your status. Am I clear?"
Red-faced and furious, Lucius nods.
"Have him teach that Mudblood twit her place. She may be friends with Potter, but we have reason to believe that the new Defense professor should take our side if it comes to that." Lucius nods again. "Good." Draco will take care of one of the most prominent Mudbloods at Hogwarts, that would be good training for later on. My own plans for the other Mudblood, Linese… those are not firm yet, but I am enjoying their formation. They will be slow, and careful, and she will be helpless, and humiliated… "I'll leave you to your evening, then." I stride carefully to the fireplace and spread Floo powder. "Crouch residence," I say, and spin away from Malfoy Manor.
A/N
I AM VERY EXCITED TO BE BACK IN THIS STORY!
-ahem-
Hi, welcome, hope you're well. Some housekeeping: we're looking at 15 chapters here, updates will be on Thursdays, and I AM SO EXTREMELY EXCITED FOR THIS!
God, sorry.
But uh, yeah, that's basically the deal. We'll be back with Nita's POV next chapter and won't leave it again (it was so weird writing as Crouch you guys, omg), and we're going to jump in at the same timeframe as we're in here, so it's November of 1995, she's been out of Hogwarts for a few months, and is getting her adult life up and running. I can't wait for you to see what she's up to! ^^
The first real chapter, Cherish Or Adore, will be up next Thursday.
Many thanks to fire1 and badadder1 for being great beta readers and sounding boards throughout this process! And thank you to all the original readers of Champion who encouraged me to do a sequel in the first place! :)
Disclaimer: This is JKR's sandbox but these are mostly my toys at this point, and also TERFs are bad no matter their motives.
E.I. signing out