Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, they belong to
J.K. Rowling.
Chapter 2: Memories
The next morning, Barty was still unconscious. If anything, he looked worse than before. His skin, which had always been pale, had turned a sickly yellow color, and his breathing was labored, a rasping noise emitting from his throat every time he inhaled.
Winky was standing on a chair beside his bed, trying to carefully pour a healing potion down his throat without awakening him. The potion was a strange grayish-brown color, and the house elf didn't envy her master having to drink it. She was finding it very difficult to reach his mouth with the goblet, even standing on her toes atop the chair. Setting the steaming potion down, she went over to the bookcase in the corner and pulled out a few thick volumes, dragging them over to the bedside and piling them on her chair one by one. Climbing back up onto the books, she reached over with the potion to try again, but slipped suddenly, accidentally pouring the entire goblet of thick, steaming liquid into Barty's mouth all at once.
He immediately woke up, coughing and spluttering, trying to wipe the horrible taste from his mouth. Winky gave a squeak of horror and dashed out of the room, returning only seconds later with a towel. She leapt onto the bed, trying furiously to wipe the disgusting liquid from his clothes and face, all the while babbling desperate apologies.
"I is sorry Master Barty, Winky is sorry! I is cleaning it up for you, Winky is very sorry!" She was so distressed that she didn't seem to notice that her efforts were only aggravating him. Barty was trying to push her off him, but she couldn't hear his weak protests over her own babble.
"Winky, get off me! * Get off!* he finally managed to raise his hoarse voice above a whisper. The elf jumped back, still trying to apologize for covering him with a goblet of grayish goo.
"Oh! Master Barty you is soaking wet! Winky is getting you new clothes to change into!" And she dashed back out into the hall, her tiny bare feet slapping on the hardwood floor.
Barty sat up with some difficulty, and rubbed his eyes. Some of the potion he'd managed to swallow had obviously helped, as his vision was coming sharply into focus, and he could now sit up on his own. Looking down at himself, he saw that his front was completely soaked through with gray-brown liquid, and his clothes were steaming.
His stomach gave a loud rumble, and he realized for the first time that he was terribly hungry. "I probably haven't eaten in days." He mumbled to himself out loud. It occurred to him then that he had no idea as to just how long he'd been lying in his room before he'd woken up the day before.
When Winky ran back into the room, her arms piled with fresh clothing, he stopped her. "Winky," he croaked. "how long have I been here? What day is it?"
The elf shuffled her feet nervously. Mr. Crouch had told her as soon as he'd got Barty home that she was to tell him very little. "If he asks too many questions, come to me." He'd said sternly. * But what harm would it do to tell him this?* she thought.
"Your father is bringing you here four days ago, Master Barty. Today is November fourth. Is you not remembering coming from Azkaban?" She asked timidly.
Barty put a hand to his head, ignoring her question. He didn't have any memory of being brought from Azkaban. In fact, he remembered very little that had happened to him inside of the dreaded fortress.
Winky broke into his thoughts by saying, "Master Barty is you being able to dress yourself?" She held out the pile of clothes.
"What? Yes, I suppose so. I'm hungry though, go make me something to eat, Winky." The elf dashed down to the kitchen while he struggled to put on the clean robes. In the kitchen, Winky found her master working at the dining room table filling out more papers for his office. Without looking up, he said, "Is he awake yet?"
"Yes Master. He is telling Winky make him something to eat. He isn't eating since you is bringing him home, sir."
"Good. Did you give him the potion as I ordered?"
His elf hesitated for a moment, reluctant to admit to him how she had spilled the whole goblet, very little of it actually being swallowed. Crouch looked up suspiciously during her awkward silence. "Well?"
"I- I is accidentally spilling the potion, Master." She squeaked.
He gave an exasperated sigh, turning back to his paperwork. "Then fetch another goblet and give it to him with his food." He snapped. Mr. Crouch hated being interrupted when he was working. He liked getting everything done as quickly as possible.
Winky gave a clumsy bow and hurried into the kitchen.
Upstairs, Barty was feeling the effects of the potion already. He found that he could now stand without his knees buckling, and managed to drag himself into the hall before slumping back against the wall, breathing hard. He wanted to get to the bathroom and look in the mirror. He hadn't seen himself in months, and was curious as to how much his stay in Azkaban had altered his appearance.
Upon looking in the large, floor-length mirror, Barty almost wished he hadn't. His entire body was bone-thin, and the robes that had once fit him comfortably now hung loosely on his body. His sapphire blue eyes, which he had been complimented on so many times before, seemed clouded, almost as though he was losing his sight. His hair had always been unkempt; a fact which had always greatly annoyed his father, but now it was a tangled mess, with so much dirt in it that Barty himself found it difficult to believe it had once been golden-blonde. His freckles stood out against the milk-white of his skin. He realized it had been almost a year since he'd seen sunlight.
Winky chose that moment to walk into his empty room. Finding him gone, she gave a squeak of alarm, and almost dropped the tray she was carrying. Barty heard her from down the hall and limped quickly back towards his bedroom, clinging to the wall for support. Unfortunately, Mr. Crouch had also heard her from his office downstairs. He dropped his work and rushed up the stairs, fearing the worst and drawing his wand as an added precaution. Turning a corner, he collided head on with his son, who was hurrying in the other direction. Barty's weak, shaky legs gave out underneath him, and he was knocked flat on his back.
Crouch stopped dead, not bothering to help his son up. He hadn't expected Barty to be on his feet so soon. He would have to decide how to contain him, and quickly, as at this rate he would probably have full use of his legs in a few days. Shaking himself from his thoughts, Crouch glared suspiciously at the young man struggling on the floor. "Where did you think you were going, boy?" He bellowed. "Trying to escape? This is the thanks I get for dragging you out of Azkaban? How far did you think you'd get, on those legs? Why, I'm surprised you're even standing!"
Barty had managed to drag himself to his feet by clinging to the wall. Glaring daggers at his father, he sneered, "Why'd you free me anyway? Decided to help out a poor * stranger*?"
Crouch gave no answer. Grabbing his son's arm painfully tight, he dragged the struggling boy down the hallway and shoved him roughly into his room. Winky was cowering against the wall in a corner, the tray of food still clutched in her shaking hands. "Keep a closer eye on him from now on, elf!" he snapped, and stormed out of the room.
Barty's struggle had drained all of his strength, and he lay on the bed, panting and gasping. Winky set down her tray, and moved him on the bed so that his head was propped up against the pillows. She took the full goblet of the healing potion and tried to give it to him, hoping he wouldn't put up a fight. At first, Barty tried to knock the goblet from her hands, but she shook her finger at him, saying, "Master Barty, you is taking your potion now so you is getting well again!" He finally gave in and let her tip the potion down his throat, too weak to struggle.
She pulled the bed covers on top of him and set the tray of food in his lap before leaving him to eat. Barty was ravenous, and it only took him a few minutes to wolf down the soup and sandwich. After he'd eaten, he settled back and tried to clear his head. Almost everything that had happened prior to his awakening the day before was a blur. His one vivid memory was the day he'd been sentenced to a life in Azkaban. Sentenced to a fate worse than death by his own father. Barty suddenly wished he'd had his wand, or preferably a knife when they had collided in the hallway.
But what had he been accused of? He frowned. For torturing someone, he knew that much. Who though? He reached into his memory, trying to find some hint there. Suddenly, a conversation between two people came to mind. The first voice was his own, and the second belonged to Ariana Lestrange.
"We'll pay the Longbottoms a visit tonight. The man is an auror, he'll know where our master is."
"And what if he won't talk?"
"Oh, I'm fairly certain we'll be able to persuade him. He has a son no more than a year old. I doubt Frank would want anything * unfortunate* to happen to him."
Barty smiled as he began to recall all that had happened next.
(1982) * * *
Four figures shivered in the chill November air, their shapes silhouetted against the glow of a near-full moon. They stood atop a grassy embankment, a safe distance away from the house they had been watching since sunset.
One of them, a small, nervous man with watery eyes piped up suddenly. "What are we waiting for?" he hissed through his teeth. "It's dark, there's no one around! The longer we stay here, the greater the risk of being captured!"
Ariana Lestrange, a tall woman with dark, hooded eyes and black hair, wearing a set, determined look, slapped him upside the head. "The more you talk, the greater the risk of being captured!" she snapped
"But Ariana, if we go in now, we'll still take them by surprise, and-"
"And any other people that might be in that house!" Barty Crouch put in. "I've been watching them since six o' clock, and I saw a group of people go in just before the rest of you came. We want the Longbottoms alone, so we'll have to wait until anyone else that's in the house has gone." The thickset man standing behind him grunted in agreement, just as the front door of the house opened and five wizards carrying broomsticks exited, waving to the people inside before mounting their brooms and taking off.
"You see?" Hissed Barty. "They would have had us outnumbered if we had simply charged in just then!"
"And some of them were probably aurors. A nice little get- together for them, celebrating Master's 'downfall'." Ariana added bitterly.
"If all goes as planned tonight, * we'll* be the only ones with any cause to celebrate." Barty said, flashing her an evil grin before jerking his thumb in the direction of the Longbottom house. "Let's go."
* * * *
"Frank, get off of the couch and help me clean up this mess!" said Nicole Longbottom, flicking a soggy dish towel at her husband, who had collapsed onto the living room couch as soon as their guests had departed.
"But Nicki-"
"Frank, they're * your* friends, * you* invited them, so * you* can clean up after them!"
The auror sighed and sat up, yawning, before trudging wearily into the kitchen. He glanced at the clock as he passed. Eleven o' clock. He smiled. They hadn't intended to drag their small dinner party past six, but it had been a long while since they had last seen each other. All of them were aurors, and during the years of Voldemort's rein, most of them had been overworked, with no time for socializing or parties. It had become extremely dangerous to be an auror, and fewer and fewer people had wanted the job.
Frank began clearing empty dishes off the table, using a summoning charm to make them fly into his waiting hands. He grinned at his wife, who was attempting to do two things at once, clearing the countertop with magic and washing dishes by hand.
He set his armload of dishes down when he heard one-year- old Neville crying from his room down the hall. "Should I take care of that, or can you handle it?" he asked Nicole, giving her a playful grin. One of her arms was elbow-deep in dish soap, while the other was holding her wand. She glared at him, and -dropping her wand for a moment- flicked her dishtowel threateningly.
Frank dodged the towel, laughing, and went down the hall to Neville's room. He picked him up for a moment, and the baby immediately stopped crying. The auror gave an exasperated sigh, but smiled at his son. "What's the matter Nevi? You must be hungry."
In truth, hunger was not what had woken Neville up. He had been happily playing with his stuffed bear when four shadowy figures had walked past the window across from his crib.
Just as Frank was summoning a bottle out of the air, the doorbell rang, and his wife called from downstairs. "I'll get it, Frank!" He could hear her splashing across the kitchen, trying to tidy herself up before confronting whoever had decided to visit in the middle of the night.
Frank listened to her open the door and greet their visitors. At first her voice was calm, with a false cheerfulness that made it clear she was in no mood to have any more guests that night, but he frowned suddenly. Her voice was beginning to slide up an octave, and she was sounding more and more nervous. He set Neville down in his crib, and as he did, there was a loud bang and a shrill, terrified scream from the living room.
Frank rushed down the hallway, following his wife's screams. He knew immediately that it was the Death Eaters, the ones who had somehow managed to avoid Azkaban. He cursed himself for not taking Dumbledore's advice and going into hiding with his family for a while. Bursting into the living room, he was immediately grabbed from behind by a tall, burly man whose face seemed set in a permanent scowl.
The Death Eaters wasted no time. Barty sauntered coolly over to the struggling auror and said in the calmest voice he could muster, given that he was jumping with excitement on the inside, "Longbottom, I would like you to tell us the whereabouts of our master, Lord Voldemort."
"How should I know where he is?" Frank spat, still struggling in the burly Death Eater's iron grip. "As far as I know, he's gone, and good riddance-"
"He is not * gone,"* Barty hissed, and the crazed look in his eyes was enough to make the seasoned auror shiver. "The Potter boy's lucky escape merely subdued him, and we will be the most honored of his servants, for returning him to power!"
"I wouldn't tell you where your damn master was even if I *did* know!" Frank sneered.
"But never mind," said Barty, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "We came prepared for your insolence, auror." Raising his wand he bellowed, * Crucio!"* And Frank collapsed on the floor, screaming and writhing with pain. Bruises began to blossom all over the auror's body as Barty dragged the curse out for a full five minutes, thinking that Frank would eventually give in.
His fellow Death Eaters had been watching the auror's suffering silently, but Ariana snapped at Barty when she saw that Frank's pleas were becoming weaker and weaker. "He won't be good for anything if you keep that up!"
Barty withdrew the curse somewhat hesitantly. He'd been having *such* fun.
Ariana cruelly pulled the shaking auror up by his hair. "Are you prepared to tell us, auror?"
Frank glared around the room, gasping for breath and wincing whenever he moved. "I've already told you all I know! Please, just leave us be! " He sobbed, his strength dissolving at the sight of his wife, lying gagged on the floor nearby with a huge cut oozing blood across her face.
"Hmm." said Ariana, focusing her gaze on Nicole. "Perhaps your wife will be more easily persuaded."
"No! Please, leave her alone! We don't know anything, we- " Frank's pleas were cut short as he was hit with the Cruciatus Curse again. Barty could hear the auror's screams mingling with his wife's as he headed down the hallway, searching for their son's room.
He heard crying from a doorway to his left, and opened it to find Neville awake and crying in his crib, trying to sit up. The Death Eater grinned, picking the child up and hurrying back down the hallway towards the couple's screams. Entering the room, he signaled the others to stop their fun, and held Neville out so that the child's parents could see. "You two may be stubborn enough not to talk when we put the Cruciatus Curse on *you*, but I wonder how long Neville here will hold out?"
"No!" Nicole cried, reaching out desperately. "Please!" But she was cut off as all four Death Eaters raised their wands and yelled, "Crucio!" placing the curse on the entire family at once.
Barty was gleefully watching Neville scream, laughing as his little face got redder and redder. Suddenly, he heard loud voices and heavy footsteps outside of the house. "Aurors!" he yelled at his companions, who followed him out the back door, leaving the Longbottom family screaming and pleading on the living room floor.
(1983) * * *
Barty grinned, lying back against the pillows. Before, he'd hardly had time to remember and relish the look on Frank Longbottom's face as he was tortured. But his expression turned sour as he remembered what had taken place afterwards.
The four of them had apparated to the Lestranges' house to decide what they were to do. The aurors had glimpsed their faces before they disapparated, and the entire country would be on the lookout for them by daybreak. In the end they had agreed to flee England and search for Voldemort abroad.
But a group of aurors and ministry officials, including Mad-Eye Moody and Barty's own father had caught up with them in Italy. There had been a brief struggle, but in the end all four of them had been captured and taken back to England where, of course, their famed trial had taken place and they had been thrown in Azkaban.
Now, as Barty gazed at the ceiling of his room, he began to remember the day of his imprisonment. He had fought them, the aurors who had dragged him to his cell and left him there, with the dementors who always stayed just outside of the bars. At first he'd struggled madly, throwing himself against the stone walls in a vain, desperate attempt to escape, but by nightfall they had stolen what little strength he'd had left.
He closed his eyes, trying to stop the memories from flooding in, but they stayed, haunting him until he eventually fell into a deep, fitful sleep.
A/N: That was a bit of a long chapter. r/r, as always.
Chapter 2: Memories
The next morning, Barty was still unconscious. If anything, he looked worse than before. His skin, which had always been pale, had turned a sickly yellow color, and his breathing was labored, a rasping noise emitting from his throat every time he inhaled.
Winky was standing on a chair beside his bed, trying to carefully pour a healing potion down his throat without awakening him. The potion was a strange grayish-brown color, and the house elf didn't envy her master having to drink it. She was finding it very difficult to reach his mouth with the goblet, even standing on her toes atop the chair. Setting the steaming potion down, she went over to the bookcase in the corner and pulled out a few thick volumes, dragging them over to the bedside and piling them on her chair one by one. Climbing back up onto the books, she reached over with the potion to try again, but slipped suddenly, accidentally pouring the entire goblet of thick, steaming liquid into Barty's mouth all at once.
He immediately woke up, coughing and spluttering, trying to wipe the horrible taste from his mouth. Winky gave a squeak of horror and dashed out of the room, returning only seconds later with a towel. She leapt onto the bed, trying furiously to wipe the disgusting liquid from his clothes and face, all the while babbling desperate apologies.
"I is sorry Master Barty, Winky is sorry! I is cleaning it up for you, Winky is very sorry!" She was so distressed that she didn't seem to notice that her efforts were only aggravating him. Barty was trying to push her off him, but she couldn't hear his weak protests over her own babble.
"Winky, get off me! * Get off!* he finally managed to raise his hoarse voice above a whisper. The elf jumped back, still trying to apologize for covering him with a goblet of grayish goo.
"Oh! Master Barty you is soaking wet! Winky is getting you new clothes to change into!" And she dashed back out into the hall, her tiny bare feet slapping on the hardwood floor.
Barty sat up with some difficulty, and rubbed his eyes. Some of the potion he'd managed to swallow had obviously helped, as his vision was coming sharply into focus, and he could now sit up on his own. Looking down at himself, he saw that his front was completely soaked through with gray-brown liquid, and his clothes were steaming.
His stomach gave a loud rumble, and he realized for the first time that he was terribly hungry. "I probably haven't eaten in days." He mumbled to himself out loud. It occurred to him then that he had no idea as to just how long he'd been lying in his room before he'd woken up the day before.
When Winky ran back into the room, her arms piled with fresh clothing, he stopped her. "Winky," he croaked. "how long have I been here? What day is it?"
The elf shuffled her feet nervously. Mr. Crouch had told her as soon as he'd got Barty home that she was to tell him very little. "If he asks too many questions, come to me." He'd said sternly. * But what harm would it do to tell him this?* she thought.
"Your father is bringing you here four days ago, Master Barty. Today is November fourth. Is you not remembering coming from Azkaban?" She asked timidly.
Barty put a hand to his head, ignoring her question. He didn't have any memory of being brought from Azkaban. In fact, he remembered very little that had happened to him inside of the dreaded fortress.
Winky broke into his thoughts by saying, "Master Barty is you being able to dress yourself?" She held out the pile of clothes.
"What? Yes, I suppose so. I'm hungry though, go make me something to eat, Winky." The elf dashed down to the kitchen while he struggled to put on the clean robes. In the kitchen, Winky found her master working at the dining room table filling out more papers for his office. Without looking up, he said, "Is he awake yet?"
"Yes Master. He is telling Winky make him something to eat. He isn't eating since you is bringing him home, sir."
"Good. Did you give him the potion as I ordered?"
His elf hesitated for a moment, reluctant to admit to him how she had spilled the whole goblet, very little of it actually being swallowed. Crouch looked up suspiciously during her awkward silence. "Well?"
"I- I is accidentally spilling the potion, Master." She squeaked.
He gave an exasperated sigh, turning back to his paperwork. "Then fetch another goblet and give it to him with his food." He snapped. Mr. Crouch hated being interrupted when he was working. He liked getting everything done as quickly as possible.
Winky gave a clumsy bow and hurried into the kitchen.
Upstairs, Barty was feeling the effects of the potion already. He found that he could now stand without his knees buckling, and managed to drag himself into the hall before slumping back against the wall, breathing hard. He wanted to get to the bathroom and look in the mirror. He hadn't seen himself in months, and was curious as to how much his stay in Azkaban had altered his appearance.
Upon looking in the large, floor-length mirror, Barty almost wished he hadn't. His entire body was bone-thin, and the robes that had once fit him comfortably now hung loosely on his body. His sapphire blue eyes, which he had been complimented on so many times before, seemed clouded, almost as though he was losing his sight. His hair had always been unkempt; a fact which had always greatly annoyed his father, but now it was a tangled mess, with so much dirt in it that Barty himself found it difficult to believe it had once been golden-blonde. His freckles stood out against the milk-white of his skin. He realized it had been almost a year since he'd seen sunlight.
Winky chose that moment to walk into his empty room. Finding him gone, she gave a squeak of alarm, and almost dropped the tray she was carrying. Barty heard her from down the hall and limped quickly back towards his bedroom, clinging to the wall for support. Unfortunately, Mr. Crouch had also heard her from his office downstairs. He dropped his work and rushed up the stairs, fearing the worst and drawing his wand as an added precaution. Turning a corner, he collided head on with his son, who was hurrying in the other direction. Barty's weak, shaky legs gave out underneath him, and he was knocked flat on his back.
Crouch stopped dead, not bothering to help his son up. He hadn't expected Barty to be on his feet so soon. He would have to decide how to contain him, and quickly, as at this rate he would probably have full use of his legs in a few days. Shaking himself from his thoughts, Crouch glared suspiciously at the young man struggling on the floor. "Where did you think you were going, boy?" He bellowed. "Trying to escape? This is the thanks I get for dragging you out of Azkaban? How far did you think you'd get, on those legs? Why, I'm surprised you're even standing!"
Barty had managed to drag himself to his feet by clinging to the wall. Glaring daggers at his father, he sneered, "Why'd you free me anyway? Decided to help out a poor * stranger*?"
Crouch gave no answer. Grabbing his son's arm painfully tight, he dragged the struggling boy down the hallway and shoved him roughly into his room. Winky was cowering against the wall in a corner, the tray of food still clutched in her shaking hands. "Keep a closer eye on him from now on, elf!" he snapped, and stormed out of the room.
Barty's struggle had drained all of his strength, and he lay on the bed, panting and gasping. Winky set down her tray, and moved him on the bed so that his head was propped up against the pillows. She took the full goblet of the healing potion and tried to give it to him, hoping he wouldn't put up a fight. At first, Barty tried to knock the goblet from her hands, but she shook her finger at him, saying, "Master Barty, you is taking your potion now so you is getting well again!" He finally gave in and let her tip the potion down his throat, too weak to struggle.
She pulled the bed covers on top of him and set the tray of food in his lap before leaving him to eat. Barty was ravenous, and it only took him a few minutes to wolf down the soup and sandwich. After he'd eaten, he settled back and tried to clear his head. Almost everything that had happened prior to his awakening the day before was a blur. His one vivid memory was the day he'd been sentenced to a life in Azkaban. Sentenced to a fate worse than death by his own father. Barty suddenly wished he'd had his wand, or preferably a knife when they had collided in the hallway.
But what had he been accused of? He frowned. For torturing someone, he knew that much. Who though? He reached into his memory, trying to find some hint there. Suddenly, a conversation between two people came to mind. The first voice was his own, and the second belonged to Ariana Lestrange.
"We'll pay the Longbottoms a visit tonight. The man is an auror, he'll know where our master is."
"And what if he won't talk?"
"Oh, I'm fairly certain we'll be able to persuade him. He has a son no more than a year old. I doubt Frank would want anything * unfortunate* to happen to him."
Barty smiled as he began to recall all that had happened next.
(1982) * * *
Four figures shivered in the chill November air, their shapes silhouetted against the glow of a near-full moon. They stood atop a grassy embankment, a safe distance away from the house they had been watching since sunset.
One of them, a small, nervous man with watery eyes piped up suddenly. "What are we waiting for?" he hissed through his teeth. "It's dark, there's no one around! The longer we stay here, the greater the risk of being captured!"
Ariana Lestrange, a tall woman with dark, hooded eyes and black hair, wearing a set, determined look, slapped him upside the head. "The more you talk, the greater the risk of being captured!" she snapped
"But Ariana, if we go in now, we'll still take them by surprise, and-"
"And any other people that might be in that house!" Barty Crouch put in. "I've been watching them since six o' clock, and I saw a group of people go in just before the rest of you came. We want the Longbottoms alone, so we'll have to wait until anyone else that's in the house has gone." The thickset man standing behind him grunted in agreement, just as the front door of the house opened and five wizards carrying broomsticks exited, waving to the people inside before mounting their brooms and taking off.
"You see?" Hissed Barty. "They would have had us outnumbered if we had simply charged in just then!"
"And some of them were probably aurors. A nice little get- together for them, celebrating Master's 'downfall'." Ariana added bitterly.
"If all goes as planned tonight, * we'll* be the only ones with any cause to celebrate." Barty said, flashing her an evil grin before jerking his thumb in the direction of the Longbottom house. "Let's go."
* * * *
"Frank, get off of the couch and help me clean up this mess!" said Nicole Longbottom, flicking a soggy dish towel at her husband, who had collapsed onto the living room couch as soon as their guests had departed.
"But Nicki-"
"Frank, they're * your* friends, * you* invited them, so * you* can clean up after them!"
The auror sighed and sat up, yawning, before trudging wearily into the kitchen. He glanced at the clock as he passed. Eleven o' clock. He smiled. They hadn't intended to drag their small dinner party past six, but it had been a long while since they had last seen each other. All of them were aurors, and during the years of Voldemort's rein, most of them had been overworked, with no time for socializing or parties. It had become extremely dangerous to be an auror, and fewer and fewer people had wanted the job.
Frank began clearing empty dishes off the table, using a summoning charm to make them fly into his waiting hands. He grinned at his wife, who was attempting to do two things at once, clearing the countertop with magic and washing dishes by hand.
He set his armload of dishes down when he heard one-year- old Neville crying from his room down the hall. "Should I take care of that, or can you handle it?" he asked Nicole, giving her a playful grin. One of her arms was elbow-deep in dish soap, while the other was holding her wand. She glared at him, and -dropping her wand for a moment- flicked her dishtowel threateningly.
Frank dodged the towel, laughing, and went down the hall to Neville's room. He picked him up for a moment, and the baby immediately stopped crying. The auror gave an exasperated sigh, but smiled at his son. "What's the matter Nevi? You must be hungry."
In truth, hunger was not what had woken Neville up. He had been happily playing with his stuffed bear when four shadowy figures had walked past the window across from his crib.
Just as Frank was summoning a bottle out of the air, the doorbell rang, and his wife called from downstairs. "I'll get it, Frank!" He could hear her splashing across the kitchen, trying to tidy herself up before confronting whoever had decided to visit in the middle of the night.
Frank listened to her open the door and greet their visitors. At first her voice was calm, with a false cheerfulness that made it clear she was in no mood to have any more guests that night, but he frowned suddenly. Her voice was beginning to slide up an octave, and she was sounding more and more nervous. He set Neville down in his crib, and as he did, there was a loud bang and a shrill, terrified scream from the living room.
Frank rushed down the hallway, following his wife's screams. He knew immediately that it was the Death Eaters, the ones who had somehow managed to avoid Azkaban. He cursed himself for not taking Dumbledore's advice and going into hiding with his family for a while. Bursting into the living room, he was immediately grabbed from behind by a tall, burly man whose face seemed set in a permanent scowl.
The Death Eaters wasted no time. Barty sauntered coolly over to the struggling auror and said in the calmest voice he could muster, given that he was jumping with excitement on the inside, "Longbottom, I would like you to tell us the whereabouts of our master, Lord Voldemort."
"How should I know where he is?" Frank spat, still struggling in the burly Death Eater's iron grip. "As far as I know, he's gone, and good riddance-"
"He is not * gone,"* Barty hissed, and the crazed look in his eyes was enough to make the seasoned auror shiver. "The Potter boy's lucky escape merely subdued him, and we will be the most honored of his servants, for returning him to power!"
"I wouldn't tell you where your damn master was even if I *did* know!" Frank sneered.
"But never mind," said Barty, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "We came prepared for your insolence, auror." Raising his wand he bellowed, * Crucio!"* And Frank collapsed on the floor, screaming and writhing with pain. Bruises began to blossom all over the auror's body as Barty dragged the curse out for a full five minutes, thinking that Frank would eventually give in.
His fellow Death Eaters had been watching the auror's suffering silently, but Ariana snapped at Barty when she saw that Frank's pleas were becoming weaker and weaker. "He won't be good for anything if you keep that up!"
Barty withdrew the curse somewhat hesitantly. He'd been having *such* fun.
Ariana cruelly pulled the shaking auror up by his hair. "Are you prepared to tell us, auror?"
Frank glared around the room, gasping for breath and wincing whenever he moved. "I've already told you all I know! Please, just leave us be! " He sobbed, his strength dissolving at the sight of his wife, lying gagged on the floor nearby with a huge cut oozing blood across her face.
"Hmm." said Ariana, focusing her gaze on Nicole. "Perhaps your wife will be more easily persuaded."
"No! Please, leave her alone! We don't know anything, we- " Frank's pleas were cut short as he was hit with the Cruciatus Curse again. Barty could hear the auror's screams mingling with his wife's as he headed down the hallway, searching for their son's room.
He heard crying from a doorway to his left, and opened it to find Neville awake and crying in his crib, trying to sit up. The Death Eater grinned, picking the child up and hurrying back down the hallway towards the couple's screams. Entering the room, he signaled the others to stop their fun, and held Neville out so that the child's parents could see. "You two may be stubborn enough not to talk when we put the Cruciatus Curse on *you*, but I wonder how long Neville here will hold out?"
"No!" Nicole cried, reaching out desperately. "Please!" But she was cut off as all four Death Eaters raised their wands and yelled, "Crucio!" placing the curse on the entire family at once.
Barty was gleefully watching Neville scream, laughing as his little face got redder and redder. Suddenly, he heard loud voices and heavy footsteps outside of the house. "Aurors!" he yelled at his companions, who followed him out the back door, leaving the Longbottom family screaming and pleading on the living room floor.
(1983) * * *
Barty grinned, lying back against the pillows. Before, he'd hardly had time to remember and relish the look on Frank Longbottom's face as he was tortured. But his expression turned sour as he remembered what had taken place afterwards.
The four of them had apparated to the Lestranges' house to decide what they were to do. The aurors had glimpsed their faces before they disapparated, and the entire country would be on the lookout for them by daybreak. In the end they had agreed to flee England and search for Voldemort abroad.
But a group of aurors and ministry officials, including Mad-Eye Moody and Barty's own father had caught up with them in Italy. There had been a brief struggle, but in the end all four of them had been captured and taken back to England where, of course, their famed trial had taken place and they had been thrown in Azkaban.
Now, as Barty gazed at the ceiling of his room, he began to remember the day of his imprisonment. He had fought them, the aurors who had dragged him to his cell and left him there, with the dementors who always stayed just outside of the bars. At first he'd struggled madly, throwing himself against the stone walls in a vain, desperate attempt to escape, but by nightfall they had stolen what little strength he'd had left.
He closed his eyes, trying to stop the memories from flooding in, but they stayed, haunting him until he eventually fell into a deep, fitful sleep.
A/N: That was a bit of a long chapter. r/r, as always.