Chapter Five:

Curiosity


THE next few weeks seemed to pass by Christine in an endless blur. Barty allowed her to watch his interrogations of their captive Alastor Moody as he interrogated the veteran Auror over his history and mannerisms, and responded to the conversation that her new partner attempted to make with her on occasion but scarcely knew what was being said or what sounds her lips were forming.

She was not permitted to leave alongside Barty when the night came for him to don the wizard's clothing and consume his first dosage of the Polyjuice Potion Christine herself had painstakingly brewed enough of that would get him through the first month of his 'employment' as Hogwarts' new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. She tried to hide her disappointment at not being allowed out of her rooms, though she suspected the Death Eater knew it. Barty had not spoken of his anger and disappointment again following their confrontation the night her attempt to coerce Moody into letting down his guard had gone so wrong, though she could tell the wizard was still angry with her.

Each time he looked at her, Barty would look at her as though she were such a disappointment to him as if he knew something of herself that Christine could not discover, and each time he did, she was once again overcome with humiliation. Until this point in her life, Christine had always firmly believed humiliation and shame were the same emotions. Christine now knew that this was not the case.

She felt no shame in having approached Moody the way that she had, but she felt humiliation in how it had all played out the same, how Barty had to come to her rescue and she had effectively put her life and his in danger with her plan that had ultimately failed.

It was a complicated feeling but she decided to accept it rather than try to understand it, though she knew she would not feel right until she attempted to broach the topic with Barty again.

"Barty, wait for a moment, please. Before you go, I-I have something I need to say," Christine spoke in a small voice as she strode towards where the wizard examined his new appearance in the mirror with a look of utmost disgust and revulsion. The man was looking absolutely repulsed at the notion of having to hide his handsome features with the grizzled veteran Auror's scarred visage.

She flinched and tried not to stare at the wizard's magical eye as he affixed it over the eye, though she caught the briefest glimpses of 'Moody's' empty eye socket and she could not help but stare.

As hard as she tried, she simply could not rustle up the disgust and horror Christine knew that she should feel, though perhaps it was because the man in front of her was not Moody.

Their Moody was safely locked away in the damned bloody trunk, now stowed safely away in the school's own Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom, according to Barty.

"What is it? It's your arm, isn't it, your Dark Mark? It still hurts you?" Barty asked, a strange look of concern marking his newly scarred visage.

She thought it strange to hear Alastor Moody's voice coming out of his mouth and for a moment, almost forgot who it was that she was talking to right now. She blinked owlishly at the wizard in front of her before remembering and managing to come back to herself somewhat. She flushed. Christine flinched and without even being made aware she was doing so, her right hand came to cover her left forearm, just as no sooner than the question was out of her partner's mouth did a white-hot flare of agony shoot up the nerves in her arm, reminding her of the Dark Mark that was now permanently branded into her skin, that Barty himself had done the honors, true to his word, that same night.

Christine swallowed a knot in her throat. "N-No, I—I'm fine," she lied, well aware she was lying through her teeth as her fingernails dug into the fabric of her shirt sleeve.

She could tell Barty was not convinced, though thankfully, the wizard did not press her, for which she was grateful. Instead, he stepped forward and motioned with a curt jerk of his head toward her arm.

"May I?" he grunted in Moody's voice.

Only when Christine numbly nodded did he proceed to gingerly roll up the sleeve of her shirt with the delicate and utmost care, as though he feared a rougher touch would cause her to shatter and break like fine China.

Barty frowned.

"You are feeling better?" he wondered, noting how Christine flinched under the scrutiny of "Moody's" gaze. It was that damned spinning magical mechanical eye of his that gave her the chills, as though the eye could see through her.

"Well, yes." Christine hesitated and chewed on her lip for a moment as she thought carefully over her words. "I—I just…" She hesitated as Barty stared at her but did not speak.

Even with his one eye not covered up by his mechanical eye, he looked to be searching Christine's eyes, which made her squirm somewhat and shift her weight from one foot to the other.

What was the wizard looking for, exactly?

"I…" Christine awkwardly cleared her throat and quickly averted her gaze, not wanting to look into the icy blueness of Moody's mechanical eye any longer than she had to. "If I seemed like I wasn't taking the situation with Moody seriously before, Barty, it was because I didn't understand. In fact, I—I don't know if I've ever been more terrified in my entire life. That night was worse than when Bellatrix gave me…this," she whispered, shamefaced, gesturing to her scar.

Barty sighed heavily and looked away for a moment, and when he spoke in Moody's gruff voice, his voice was calloused with gravel and ire, though she could recognize that this was Barty talking, not Moody.

"I apologize, Christine. I can see now that your…apparent lack of concern for your well-being was more likely another side effect of your fear. I had no right to assume that old Moody didn't make you fully aware of his intentions. It's bad enough the wanker nearly killed you," he snarled, the edges of his scarred mouth turning up into a twisted feral snarl. "You deserve better from me, Lestrange, as your partner. And…in time, as a friend to you, I hope. You are a brave witch, braver than anyone in the Dark Lord's ranks has ever given you any credit for after what happened with Bellatrix and Rodolphus, and I should learn to treat you with the respect you deserve, and that you've earned. I was afraid you did not understand the dangers of what you were getting into, but I can see now that you do. You knew what you were up against, but you chose to face him anyway. Or I guess, I should say, me," he growled, though the edge of his lips curled upward into a twisted triumphant grin.

His fingers kneaded the skin surrounding where the Dark Mark had been branded into her arm, ignoring the worst areas where the Mark still burned.

"There will be more pain tomorrow, Christine, Luv, and probably worse than last week as it fully heals, though the pain eventually fades," he murmured. "It's healing up well already," he told her with a crooked smile. "It was a good idea to let you rest for a few days. You'll want to clean it a bit though, the swelling still hasn't gone down and you want to avoid an infection."

Christine stared at Barty with wide eyes. Even in Moody's voice, hearing the wizard apologize to her was a rather foreign concept, and she certainly did not know how to respond. She pursed her lips, unsure what to say. Barty continued, sensing she was hesitant to reply.

"I did not mean to…be so harsh with my words before. For a moment, that night, at Moody's house, I thought I had lost you already. It was my fear, manifesting itself as anger, that made me yell at you, Luv. From now on, you stick close to me, or stay here," Barty calmly reminded Christine, stepping forward and resting one of Moody's hands that were slowly becoming more gnarled and arthritic as the grizzled old Auror aged around one of her shoulders and gave the appendage a firm squeeze that was meant to reassure the witch. "I can respect that you did not want to get me involved. How very noble of you, almost worthy of a Gryffindor, darling," he snorted. "Your plan was brave, Christine, but stupid all the same and incredibly self-destructive. In the future, I hope you will get me involved if something like this happens again. If anyone should be protecting the other from harm, it is me who should be protecting you, Lestrange. If something were to happen to you because you were seeking to keep me from the same danger that was befalling you, I don't think that I could forgive myself. I would rather you put me at risk if it means that I can help you rather than have you foolishly gambling your own life for my sake. If you were killed in my stead, the guilt that I would face would kill me, Christine. Please. I beg of you. Do not do that to me," he growled, his mouth turning down into a scowl.

Christine nodded tiredly as she closed her eyes and pinched at the bridge of her nose, fighting off the beginnings of a headache coming on.

"I'm sorry if it seems I'm reckless sometimes, Barty," she sighed. "I…I'm a new Death Eater to your ranks, I know that b-but…this…our assignment, what we've been tasked with, it's all still new to me. I suppose even now, I don't always do what I should, but I tried to do what I thought was right," she whispered, shamefaced.

Barty leaned forward, leaning against Alastor's walking stick for support to get used to the wizard's prosthetic limb as much as to get a better look at the witch's face, silently considering his partner for a moment before finding the right words to say to her.

After what seemed an interminable struggle, the wizard spoke up.

"Having someone work alongside me who thinks differently than me is not a bad thing, Lestrange. I wanted you brought with me for a reason, darling."

She swallowed hard, not sure she wanted to know the truth behind the Death Eater's 'reasons' but she recognized that she owed him her thanks all the same and prayed to Merlin, this time, he'd take them.

She hoped she would end up being more useful to the man than she was currently, left to remain cooped up in their room, continuously brewing batch after batch of Polyjuice Potion for him.

Christine felt an overwhelming itch surge to life so powerful that it was almost a physical need to be set free of this cage, to explore Hogwarts again alongside Barty, this time as an adult. He gave a curt nod of his head and stepped back, his lips half parted as though he was of a mind to speak to her, and finally, he voiced his suspicions. The want must have been written all over her face, she realized with a jolt.

"You want something of me, Christine. What is it?"

"I—I there's something I needed to-to say, Barty, something I needed to-to ask," she blurted out, her words sounding clumsy and blunt as she reached up a hand and awkwardly patted at her hair, trying to convince herself for some strange reason that she neither looked nor smelled funny. "There are rumors of the other delegations approaching from Beaubaxtons and Durmstrang in a few weeks," she began hesitantly, trying to choose her words very carefully. She knew what she was asking of Barty would be a lot to risk, but she desperately wanted out of this stuffy inn room.

But Barty's expression clouded and the paleness of "Moody's" one good blue eye seemed to turn darker somehow, as though the light within the iris had gone out.

"And you want to go," he murmured, sounding as though he had expected it. The wizard shook his head no. "I am sorry, Christine, darling, but I cannot let you go. If you are seen by any of the staff, it could risk everything, Lestrange."

At least a dozen or so childish emotions threatened to overwhelm Christine all at once as she felt the blood drain from her face and she stared at Barty in his disguise in disbelief.

"Why not?" she demanded hotly, fighting against the urge to shout, though she knew it would make no difference, as Muffliato was continuously cast upon the closed door of their room every hour. "You said if I was with you or using your Invisibility Cloak I—"

"If you are seen, it would put everything we have done at risk, Christine, everything." Barty sighed and now it was his turn to pinch at the bridge of what was left of Moody's nose. "Your argument that you will be careful will not hold with me now. I cannot always be present to protect you, if you were to be spotted, how on Merlin's green earth would you explain yourself, hmm? You've no family members of school age old enough to compete in the Tournament, saying that you've come to support any family would not fly with the likes of Dumbledore." He frowned and looked at her. "You would truly put the both of us, but especially yourself, Lestrange, in danger, for what, your amusement? You are a Death Eater for Lord Voldemort now, Luv, and are a valuable asset to him and me, whether or not you are aware of it yet, you will be. Should you be recognized, many wouldn't hesitate to use you and your ties as a Lestrange to their advantage, Christine."

An asset? Christine thought bitterly and confused, clenching her teeth.

"I understand, Barty," she answered coldly, stepping back, and brushing her hands on the front of her skirt.

Barty stared at her in silence for a moment, as though trying to read her expression for any hint of a lie, though when the wizard could detect none, he offered her a curt nod of his head and a little grunt by way of response and shuffled towards the door.

"Good, Christine. Stay here. I would see you kept safe, no matter the cost, even if it means you suffer from boredom. Wormtail should be by later with dinner for you, I will return to check on you when I'm able."

Christine nodded numbly as he wrenched open the door and stepped outside into the hallway, though before he slammed it shut with a wave of Moody's wand, Christine could have sworn Barty looked back at her. She strode towards the window and watched Barty limp his way down the cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade. He was not looking at her, for his back was paraded to her, though Christine swore she felt Moody's magical eye fixated on her, somehow, watching her, spying on her to ensure she stayed put. She frowned. She was having trouble getting Barty Crouch Jr. out of her head.

Christine had thought she had been secretly fascinated by the man before, if not disgusted, though if Barty had been telling the truth about trying to put the Longbottoms out of their misery and fighting her own cousin's wife over it, now, she thought she was downright obsessed.

But the more and more she searched her brain as to why the more frustrated she grew.

She thought she would never be able to dig deeper into her analysis of him if she could not see him at any other time other than in the evenings when he could manage to sneak away from the castle to see her and give her updates.

Christine felt her blood boil as she thought of his strict orders to stay here, hidden away and out of sight. She might as well not even exist at this point.

The witch furrowed her thin eyebrows as she stood at the window, watching as Barty perfected walking with Mad-Eye Moody's prosthetic leg and walking stick as the weeks passed.

The first night he had practiced with it had been the roughest.

She'd had to throw up several Muffliato Charms around the door of their room so other guests would not hear the curse words that were ripped from his lips as he'd forced down mouthfuls of the first dosage of Polyjuice Potion. He had spent hours that night practicing with the prosthetic limb and the man's walking stick, having to cling to her arm for support until Barty could walk on his own without her aid.

She almost smiled as he stopped to talk to a passerby in the street and sent him on his way, nearly half-smiling at whatever the middle-aged wizard had said to him. Christine had heard many things about Barty Crouch Jr. since they had graduated, since the attack against the Longbottoms.

Some things were good but most…were not.

The topic of her former classmate with a crush had always made her uneasy whenever Barty was brought up in conversation, so she tried to avoid that point of conversation as much as possible.

Something inside of her did not feel right talking so atrociously about a man she had only a few precious interactions at best with when in school, and now that she knew the truth of it, well… as much as the topic unnerved her and especially as his partner now, she could not help but think of it from time to time. She shivered and pulled her cardigan around her tighter for warmth.

Fall would be upon them soon enough, the leaves were already starting to scrape the ground as the wind took hold of them and a strand of Christine's bangs blew off her forehead as she stood in front of the open window still. The chilly breeze was oddly comforting.

As she watched Barty's silhouette become fainter as he reached a relatively safe enough distance to Apparate to the front of the school, her mind melted back to the wizard. She thought of his dark eyes, how it wasn't even the color itself that made them so dark, but what lay underneath them.

The relative blankness to her seemed as though it was just a cover for the tumultuous emotions she was sure had to lie buried and repressed beneath the surface.

She believed that some men and women were born broken, born wrong, but not Barty. She did not believe that someone could be born completely without emotions. Even psychopaths and sociopaths had basic emotions. She flinched as Barty turned and shot her a furtive wink that her keen eyes picked up on even from this distance. She grimaced and immediately turned away from the window, feeling like she was still reeling from everything that was happening to her. Her right hand instinctively went yet again to cover her branded left forearm as a twinge of pain shot up her arm.

Almost as if sensing her discomfort, her small white fruit bat, Stella, gave her a light little nudge with her snout as the tiny creature nestled comfortably on her right shoulder.

Her father had sent Stella to her within days of their arrival here at the inn upon her request.

The bat had been with her since she was eighteen, having saved it from a neighbor's Kneazle.

Christine patted Stella's head and walked the bat back to her cage, making sure she had food and water. Christine turned around and looked towards the window again.

Barty had gone, but it was the sight of the mighty and proud illustrious structure of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that caught her attention. Her hand had moved to tuck a stray wisp of dark hair that had flown in front of her face as the wind had picked up and blew a harsh gust of breeze through their room without warning, though her hand stayed by her ear as she stared at the proud structure.

He would be living there for the better part of a year, in his disguise. She tried to picture what getting through this assignment would mean for him, alone, with no one to confide in but her through Patronuses and through the fireplace in their room. A pang of sympathy ran through her by the thought of Barty being alone for the entirety of the year with no one else for company, and now that she knew the truth of what had happened that night, she was beginning to wonder if perhaps she had misjudged him. She began to think that he was trying, perhaps his best, to help her feel comfortable around him.

A curious thought crossed her mind. What if she visited him? Would he turn her away, or embrace her?

"No, I couldn't. He told me to stay, that it was too risky. I could be caught, even with his Invisibility Cloak." She put her hand over her mouth as she struggled to rein in her conflicting thoughts, though her gaze was drawn towards the wizard's neatly folded Invisibility Cloak, just on top of the dresser that was shoved unceremoniously against the opposite wall.

It was as if it was calling to her, begging for her to drape the garment over her shoulders and head and disappear, become invisible to the outside world, and sneak into the magnificent castle where they had both once been students, find the man, and talk to him again.

"I—I could though, Stella, but what would I say?" Christine began to pace a small line back and forth in front of her bed. The bat flicked up her pointed ears at the sound of her owner's mumbling.

The witch had a habit of doing so whenever nervous or thinking about something troublesome.

Her pacing was not fast, but leisurely, rather.

"For God's sake, the man is my partner! Me going there, I would surely only be a distraction!" She threw her hands out, gesturing to no one in particular, save for Stella, though the little white fruit bat was currently munching on a piece of fruit and could not be bothered to pay much heed to anything else. Christine let out a frustrated exhale as she came to a dead stop in her tracks, shifting her weight to rest on her right leg and folding her arms across her heart which was hammering loudly against her ribs.

She could not even believe she was entertaining the thought of disobeying her partner's direct order, knowing the risks that would come if she was caught.

Christine put her hand back over her mouth, her eyes glancing towards Stella who was still munching on her piece of fruit, letting out contented chirps in between bites and occasionally flexing her large wings.

"What do you think, Stel?" The only response she received from her pet was a heavy squeak and an irritated flick of one of her large ears. Christine in turn sighed as well.

She tugged on the left sleeve of her cardigan to resist the urge to scratch and pick at the skin as the Dark Mark on her forearm healed.

"Merlin's Beard, I cannot believe I'm doing this," she moaned.

Before her courage and resolve could falter her, she rushed towards the dresser and grabbed Barty's neatly folded Invisibility Cloak, and unfolded it, draping the garment over her shoulders and watching as all but her head became invisible.

She dashed towards the door of their room and flung it wide open and stepped outside into the hallway, though not before peeking to the left and right to be sure no other souls were wandering about.

She did not want to have to explain what her intentions were with an Invisibility Cloak. She flipped the hood up over her head swiftly and fully let her body become invisible. Her nervous gaze peered through the sheer and transparent hooded cloth, her eyes landing on Hogwarts once she had made her way down the stairs of the Three Broomsticks and outside the pub, being careful to avoid being stepped on.

"Ugh. I really am a stupid witch," she whispered to herself in a low voice that only she could hear. Christine's legs moved at a brisk pace as she made her way toward the school.

Barty had told her firmly to stay put, but her desire to talk with the wizard even while donned in his disguise as Moody had won over her doubts as to how angry he would be.

The shadows from the fully setting sun followed her.