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Challenges listed at the bottom.

Word Count - 600

A Matter of Pride

"Dear Merlin, just when I thought you couldn't get any stupider!"

Barty watched his father's mustache quiver in anger. It always did that. It was one of the first warning signs.

Not that being warned helped anything, not with his Father. It wasn't like Barty could run away. He'd tried it once before and it had not ended well for him.

"These marks are terrible, boy! You knew my expectations!"

Yes, Barty had known the expectations. His father expected perfection, and when he didn't get it, he got mad. Barty had never met his father's expectations because he wasn't perfect. He'd never pretended to be, and he'd long since stopped striving for the unattainable.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" his father demanded.

He was red cheeked now, and there was a vein throbbing almost purple.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Barty said, his voice meek. He knew it wouldn't help, nothing ever did, but there was a chance it could at least minimise the damage coming his way.

"Sorry doesn't fix the mark on your record, does it?"

"No, Sir."

The belt stung, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

When Barty returned to Hogwarts, his peers congratulated him on almost straight O's in his O.W.L.s, and he accepted them with a barely polite grimace.

Any joy he could have taken from his marks had long since been ruined.

…

He got straight O's on his N.E.W.T.s, and his Father nodded at him over the breakfast table. There was no words of pride or congratulations, and the tiny part of Barty that still craved his father's approval died at that moment.

It wouldn't matter what he did, he was never going to measure up to the expectations held aloft.

His mother hugged him tightly and told him she was proud of him, but it just… wasn't the same.

…

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Regulus asked.

Barty was surprised by the hesitense when he approached Regulus about joining the Dark Lord. Surely Regulus should be excited that Barty was going to join the ranks, join him, but there was a certain glint in Regulus' eyes that spoke of unrest.

"I'm positive," he replied regardless.

It was the truth. An act of rebellion, sure, but also a deep need for someone, anyone, to tell him well done after a job completed.

He'd heard whispers in school of the rewards given to Death Eaters who served their master well.

Barty wanted that.

He wanted to make someone proud.

…

The mark burned on his arm, and Barty Apparated to his master's side, and took his place in the circle. It had taken work, hard work, to make his way up the ranks but he'd done it and it was so worth it.

"Barty, report."

Barty did so, including the details he knew his master loved, and when he was done, he stood with his head low, waiting for whatever his report would bring.

"You did well, Barty. I'm proud of you."

The words were like a balm, and Barty almost crumbled. His master passed by him to the next, but Barty paid little attention to the rest of the reports. The words were still echoing in his head on a loop and he let himself enjoy them.

…

"How could you do this?" his father asked, standing on the outside of the cell looking in.

Barty stared at him for a long moment. "He was proud of me," he whispered.

"You're a disgrace," his father spat.

Barty smiled. "But my master was proud of me."

Written for;

Auction - Barty Crouch Jr

365 - 185. Moustache

1000 - 237. "Dear Merlin, just when I thought you couldn't get any stupider."