Perceptual Distortions- 6
A/N: It has been a while from I have updated so I'd like to announce that this story will be finished within the month, hopefully. Just wanted to say that I'm still here, still loving Barty and still being attacked by real life. Professor Giacomo is my politics teacher who is too perfect to be human, no joke, yet still makes us do Creative Learning. (You try writing a poem to honour First Past The Post!) Pretty intense chapter yet is basically one big scene. Anyway, enjoy your summer! I'm back writing so I'll finish PD by the end of August :D
Professor Sebastian Giacomo was the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor for Hogwarts after deciding to pack up his life and see the world before he died. Giacomo had worked in almost every wizarding school from his native Naples until Hogwarts, with a position already confirmed at Salem for next year. He hated staying anywhere for more than a year and so the 'cursed' Defence Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts was more than appealing.
Professor Giacomo spent his mornings slowly sipping his specially brewed tea, perusing the headlines of his favourite newspaper, Clemency, and idly wasting his time before the oncoming slaughter of his morning classes. Especially today's class, the Slytherin and Ravenclaw fifth years, who had a reputation for being extraordinarily migraine-inducing in even the most patient of teachers.
Today there would be more difficulty, Professor Giacomo grimly predicted as he leisurely stretched on his chair before his class was due to arrive. It had been a few weeks since any real incident and, with the inevitable holiday-lethargy, it seemed as though the class was entitled to do something purely disruptive. Professor Giacomo, as with every teacher, despised the week leading up to any break from school. Dumbledore had planned a larger than usual Halloween party this year 'to cheer the hearts of every student in these dark times', which, in Giacomo's professional opinion, was slightly optimistic. Reports arrived daily of the horrendous acts of barbarism committed in the name of this Lord Voldemort. Students and teachers alike watched in fear every morning as the owls came bringing the terrible news of a family's demise. Yesterday it was a small tawny owl bringing an envelope to the trembling hands of a little first year, barely old enough to deal with losing her mother. The day before had been a letter detailing the death of Professor McGonagall's husband, Rufus, that shocked the formidable witch into collapsing. It had become the norm, as horrible as it felt, to receive the news of at least one death a day with every individual hoping it isn't their turn.
Professor Giacomo had yet to receive a letter.
The chatter of an oncoming class broke the Italian from his revive. They were drained, physically and emotionally, yet life seemed to go on as it always had. The resilience of the youth, especially in those Giacomo had been introduced to in the upper Gryffindors, was awe-inspiring and motivating. The laughter as they approached was almost enough to make the cynical Professor believe; in victory, in freedom and in life.
The two students making the most noise were a remarkable pair of individuals. Jane March and Barty Crouch kept close together, their heads bowed in intense conversation with identical, appreciative smiles threatening to break out on their usually serious faces. He would say something which would cause her eyes to roll, a wry smile playing loosely across her lips, and then he would move erratically, spin, gesture violently, sing, grin manically or even swing dance down the corridor, music only deafening to his ears with her laughing before being dragged into whatever movement he decided would be perfect to express himself. They radiated brightly wherever they went, always together and always holding those lucky enough to see them up, but they didn't seem to notice which made them shine all the more brilliantly. It made most people dizzy watching them over the last few months as they spiralled to new heights of passionate intensity and Giacomo could only guess what it felt like to be in such a blur.
They were not disruptive during his classes, which Giacomo liked, and so allowed them a rare smile. They were quickly joined by the rest of the Ravenclaws, coming in pairs, until the Slytherins arrived exactly on time. The quiet murmur of chat drained as Giacomo stood at the front of the class and spoke in the firm, accented manner that caused so many of the younger students, especially the females, to pay close attention.
"Morning, class." He greeted them with his usual politeness. The chalk rose to the level of the blackboard, poised to list his terms. "Objectives for today: Revision of the Unforgivable Curses and miscellaneous hexes and their defences." The charmed chalk underlined the first point on the list. "This will be done in pairs, one student performing the curse and the other offering their criticism. Creative learning projects are also due on the Thursday we get back so I would like to see a little work on them during Halloween, please and thank you. Not like you don't have them all finished already but we do like to give a bit of a deadline for your games, poems, posters, banners, presentation and assorted dramatisations on the behaviour, properties and defences against Kappas. I hope you are looking forward to it, ladies and gentlemen. Chocolate is always an acceptable prize as long as you bring enough for everyone and myself. Or enough for myself, in any case. Right, are well all set? No? Excellent."
The students repressed groans and eye-rolls. Professor Giacomo was brilliant, they couldn't deny that, but his enthusiasm for the dreaded 'Creative Learning' projects was almost inhuman. In fact, he just wasn't human. His perfectionism, drive, cynicism and flawless complexion quickly turned from amusing to just plain irritating. Some students even had theories, unfounded, that he was some sort of Muggle robot and claimed he did not need to eat or sleep.
The Ravenclaws began work immediately while the Slytherins once more embarked on a conversation of dubious nature, obviously aware that this class was pointless as their OWLs were in June, and their resentment towards Giacomo for making them compose sonnets in honour of the Shield charm was completely founded on embarrassment. Soon, even the Ravenclaws had abandoned all pretences of working on the many hexes they were forced to defend for their exams. Hermione and Barty worked diligently on their notes as they discussed the finer points of casting the Imperious.
"As with all curses intent on harming someone, the desire of the caster is ultimately the strongest factor in casting the curse, not the words themselves." Hermione recited perfectly as Barty listened with an expression of faux-interest.
"Yes... While I believe this may be the case, some curses do not work entirely on the intent, as described in Fielding's book. If an angry child, for example, thought so incredibly hard on hurting someone, causing the pain of the Cruciatus, yes, the thought alone would not be enough to trigger the curse. The words, the incantation, differentiates us because it gives us the choice between desire and the act itself. This is the difference between the Aurors who fight, who feel the vengeance and desire to hurt, yet do not lower themselves to saying the words, and the Death Eaters who can do both indiscriminately. It is the choice between saying something and doing something which is why, at least I believe, the words of the curses are equally, if not more, important than the desire." Barty puffed out his chest importantly and raised a comical eyebrow at Hermione whose face had clouded momentarily through his speech.
"In other words" He continued with a sly grin "It is the difference between fancying the pants off a girl and asking her out. The desire is there, always there, but do you ever do it? No. Why? You know better."
"How dare you compare the Unforgivable Curses to asking a girl out!" Hermione spluttered indigently. "They are completely different things!"
"The principles are the same." Barty argued lightly with a dismissive wave and a wink.
"It is quite derogatory to women. We're not out to land you in Azkaban."
"Some are." Barty chuckled with a wistful smile
"Name one."
"Eleanor, of course."
"Ah, I forgot." Hermione rolled her eyes. Barty had been more than vocal about his current obsession with the brown haired girl who seemed completely disinterested in his attempts to flirt. Hermione had advised him against it but, apparently, 'it is true love and true love is something to fight for!' "Is she worth going to Azkaban for? That is the true question."
"Yes!" Barty exclaimed loudly, jumping onto the table, causing the girl herself to throw a dirty look toward him. Barty grinned wildly at Hermione who returned it. His eyes softened considerably as he slid down into his seat once more. "You are worth it too, Jane. I would do anything for you, absolutely anything, little Janey-Jane. You are amazing."
Hermione was completely hypnotised by him, the alertness of his face, the sincerity in his eyes.
It terrified her.
"But nothing gross or anything. I love Eleanor more, sorry." Barty hastily added, smiling brightly at Hermione. She patted him sarcastically on the arm and ducked her head slightly. Hermione felt suddenly very cold and very scared. Their friendship had grown so much over the last few months and she felt closer to Barty than she felt to Harry or Ron but whenever they stopped talking, stopped holding each other, Hermione could see his face, the face of the Barty she knew who initiated Voldemort's return. Even when they were together, she could see the same fanatical, manic behaviour that Barty would be famous for. She wondered when it would be that he would be taken to Voldemort's clutches and eventually pay the ultimate price for his devotion. Today? Tomorrow? Two years? She couldn't bring herself to think about losing him.
"Ok! Janie! Smile again. I love you more, I promise." Barty snuggled his head on her shoulder and smiled angelically at Hermione. She placed a tearful kiss on his head and laughed at his typically little-boy antics.
"I love you, Janie-Jane. But not in the weird way, in the nice way."
"Thank you, Barty-Bart. I love you too."
"Aw, Jane. I thought you said you loved me. You've broken my heart, baby, you really have." A slick voice interrupted their moment of tenderness. Regulus Black, accompanied by his small army, loomed leeringly above Hermione and Barty. In an instant, Barty's face darkened to an eerie calm.
"Go back to your desk, Black. I'm actually not interested in talking to you." Barty murmured in a low voice. Hermione flinched at the threat in his tone.
"How is your revision going, Crouch? Learnt how to cast the Cruciatus yet, just like dear father? He would be disappointed if you couldn't shoot it off as fast as he can." Regulus hissed as his friends laughed loudly. Hermione glanced quickly around to find Professor Giacomo but he had left the room.
"Just ignore them, Barty." Hermione put her hand into Barty's and squeezed it in a reassuring way. He flashed her an unreadable look and dropped her hand.
"Your mother is in a bad way, or so I hear. Caught some disgusting Muggle disease that is killing her. My father told me it was from prostituting herself with a Muggle when your dearest daddy was at work. How does it feel to have a mother who is dying from being a whore? My bet is that she is gone by Christmas, how about you? Still hoping against hope that she'll suddenly get better? Who do you blame, Crouch? Her for being so vile as to willingly go to a Muggle for sex or your Father for being too repulsed to touch her?"
Barty had leapt the short distance from his seat until his hands were fixed squarely around Regulus' throat. Hermione screamed as the burly Icarus Hanley pulled Barty off Regulus and threw him into the table with equal ease. Regulus pulled himself off the ground and began kicking Barty in the ribs, hissing warnings to match Barty's yelps of pain. Hermione lifted her wand off the table and pointed it toward Regulus. One of the girls, Victoria Stafford, cast a disarming charm and Hermione's wand flew toward her harmlessly. A bigger Slytherin boy held her tightly as she struggled wildly, hoping that the other Ravenclaws would help Barty. They didn't.
The other boys began kicking Barty who struggled to get up from the foetal position on the ground. Regulus bent down beside him and dragged him to his feet by his hair. Hermione barely restrained a scream as she saw blood seep through his school shirt. Icarus held Barty tightly as Regulus punched him in the face. Crack! Nose broken. Barty screamed loudly but the noise did not penetrate the heavy breathing and taunts of Regulus. Nester, another of the Slytherin boys, had cast a silencing charm over the room and over Barty to stop a teacher being alerted. They were positive the Ravenclaws, who watched the scene with morbid fascination and hopelessness, would not act against the Slytherins out of fear.
Hermione was screaming loudly and thrashing against her captor. She dropped her weight, forcing him to bed over before pulling up sharply and hitting his nose with a loud crack. Without hesitating she cast a wandless charm, pushing the others back before leaping to where Regulus held Barty. Hermione took a deep breath before leaping onto the back of Regulus and forcing him to the ground. Barty watched her actions with a detached amazement before swinging a punch at Icarus, knocking him to the ground.
Hermione hung tightly to Regulus, hearing his strangled breathing, before she felt herself spinning through the air and landing on the ground before her with a sickening crack. She was dimly aware of him standing above her, shouting something and an intense feeling of agony coursing throughout her body. Something wet under her head also alerted her to the fact she was bleeding, a lot. Oh God, she thought desperately, I'm going to die in the past.
"CRUCIO! Crucio! Crucio!"
Bracing herself for the worst, Hermione was surprised to find the dimming figure of Regulus disappear entirely from her vision.
Two voices were screaming now, one in pain and one in desperation.
Slightly hunched, clutching his ribs protectively, Barty stood with his wand pointed firmly at Regulus who squirmed in pain, wailing and pleading for it to end. Barty's eyes were darker, focused entirely on the figure of Regulus below him. The intensity of his stare, the pure hatred burning in his eyes, finally stopped when he saw Hermione staring up at him with unmasked horror on her face.
A/N: The thing about Barty is his remarkable capacity for loyalty.It really is wonderful. Barty is not one to give his loyalty to just anyone but when he does, it is forever. He would do anything for that person even if it means going off the edge. The reason he did Crucio is because he was talking about it and had secretly thought about doing it before to Regulus, not because he is crazy and OMGEVIL. Haven't we all thought horrible things we'd like to do to the bullies? Barty just did it. The Ravenclaws are not helping for a reason... they really are terrified. I live in Northern Ireland so I have seen first hand the reality of life in terror, not knowing who to trust and who to talk to just in case they are 'connected' which means your family ends up dead. The Ravenclaws know the Slytherins are 'connected' and so will not act for fear, simply. It is sad but true that when worst comes to worst, people will only be concerned with themselves and their loved ones. Danger, danger, danger...
Next time: Consquences, Slytherin intervention, the downfall, the manipulation and a letter from home.