Value and Worth, Chapter 6

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One would think that having worked for an entire month without a moment of reprieve would drive anyone to bed with a good book for the next year or so, but Hermione Granger had never been known for taking time off. In fact, there were rumours she'd never so much as had a sick day in the seven years she'd worked for the Ministry. She was a model employee in that sense, also while being effective and thorough with her work, not afraid to stay late for the right cause. It wasn't just duty that bound her, it was passion. But unfortunately, that passion had brought forth undesired behaviour as well as desired.

If she found there was justice to be served, she'd do her very best to ensure it was. No matter who stood in her way. It had gained her allies as well as enemies. Which was why she was careful making certain no one saw her sneak down to the archives—specifically, the section handling registered and imprisoned Death Eaters.

Mulligan, the middle-aged witch in charge of the records, greeted Hermione from behind her desk with a smile and hastily waved her in—too busy with her bacon sandwich and Witch Weekly to interrogate Hermione about her day. Once in a while a story popped up in the magazines and there'd be no end to her questions, but this was not one of those times, thank Merlin.

Making a show of rummaging through the Creatures section at first, Hermione slowly made her way to the Death Eater section from there. Her finger trailed along the letters, her stomach squirming a bit at just how many of the names she recognised. She made it to 'C' and found Barty's files quickly. It wasn't a large one; the number of parchments nothing compared to the ones belonging to the likes of Avery and the Lestranges, both of which she could tell just by looking at them must have every atrocity listed. It was curious, she thought, how despite this and how it would seem that would make Barty the lesser Death Eater, she and Harry and Ron knew just how much Barty Crouch Jr's existence had come to play in Voldemort rising. When you'd achieved that, there need be little else on your list of accomplishments.

Clearing her throat, Hermione snapped out of her dark musings and instead checked out the files on Barty. Being a member of the Department of Mysteries, there were ways to ensure your workings were kept secret from outsiders and Hermione was thankful for it as she watched Mulligan eyes attempt to discern the content of the files she was holding.

"Just . . .just write down your signature here, Unspeakable Granger," said the old witch tiredly.

Hermione did just so and snuck back to her office as soon as she possibly could. That was one of the greatest things about working down at the Department of Mysteries, she thought. Even someone as new as her could get an office.

Closing the door behind her gently, Hermione set off to work. She put aside the pages detailing Barty's work as a Death Eater—especially careful not to look at the ones recounting his involvement in the torturing of Alice and Frank Longbottom, as they hurt to even think about— and studied the information available on his years in Hogwarts. Reports from his old teachers, merits he'd gained, detentions . . .there didn't seem to have been any. Odd, thought Hermione, as even she herself had been forced to serve detention. He'd also been a prefect for Slytherin. That was even more of a surprise. How had a prefect with seemingly good grades come to work for—twelve O. ?!

Hermione attempted to not let her jaw fall to her desk and instead took a deep breath to steady herself. No matter. So Barty had two more O.W. Ls than her, he was still the one imprisoned for murder and aiding the darkest wizard of all time, not her. No, she'd helped defeat that Dark Lord. What did grades matter out there in the real world?

She couldn't help but chew her lip a little as she continued reading. The more she learned about Barty's time at Hogwarts, the more confused she got. She'd always suspected his intelligence, but to see proof of it was another thing entirely. To not see it shrouded in his cloud of madness. In fact, according to her findings, Barty had been rather admired by schoolmates and teachers alike. It never said liked, however, which could explain how so many seemed to have forgotten his existence. How he'd been able to rot away in Azkaban for years without anyone trying to find him after hearing he'd been alive and that his mother had been the one to fall ill and die all those years ago.

Admired, but not loved, Hermione thought and couldn't help but see the late Bartemius Crouch Sr. in her mind.

The reason to why Barty would give all of this up, his reputation and aspirations and endless possibilities to rise up in the world became a bit clearer. Why he'd trade it all to be some henchman for a merciless Lord Voldemort. Pureblooded mania aside, Barty had been looking for a father figure. Someone that would love him rather than just prop him up as a trophy. It didn't excuse his behaviour, but it could explain it. Barty Crouch Jr. was unfailingly loyal to Voldemort and had given the man his everything. To such extremes that he still, to this day, maintained his alliance, while others—like the Malfoys—had declared themselves unwilling to be associated with the matter.

To have his loyalty would be a powerful thing . . .

Hermione didn't know when she finished her research, but when she exited her office, the building was scarce on people. A quick tempus charm showed her it was past dinner time. She decided to hold on to the files and head home, longing for a warm bath and go over them again to see if there was anything else left to be found. On her way to the fireplaces, however, she ran into one of her co-workers and regretted for the first time not going home sooner.

"Unspeakable Smith," she greeted the wizard in front of her. "Good evening."

Zacharias Smith barely concealed his irritation. He'd been on his way out of the fireplace and obviously thought the same as Hermione about their meeting. "Unspeakable Granger."

Even now, years after their Hogwarts years were over, there was still something about Smith that irked her. She could remember the DA meetings they'd shared, his general attitude towards her friends—Harry in particular— and the encounters they'd had since working together at the Department of Mysteries and found herself justified in her dislike of the man. He hadn't changed.

Which was also in part of why he treated her like dirt, since he remembered the things he'd had to suffer at the hands of Gryffindors (Ginny crashing into him with a broom came to mind).

"Ah! Unspeakable Granger!"

Smith and Hermione turned to the fireplace again, seeing who was now emerging.

"Auror Rickett," said Hermione and smiled. "How are you?"

"Very well, thank you!" He smiled back at her, but she noticed how his gaze also drifted to Smith. "I'm just getting something I forgot in the office. Then it's home to the wife and her attempt at cooking."

Hermione laughed. "I'm sure her cooking is lovely and that you should count yourself lucky to have her."

"You are as clever as they say," he replied, but his expression lacked presence, like his thoughts were elsewhere, and Hermione was sure she knew why. Rickett was after all one of the Aurors working on her project with Barty and now that she was here, he must be worried about Barty being left alone and what that would mean for him. To be honest, Hermione was a bit unclear on that front too, and she felt an urge to ask him about it but Smith still hadn't moved.

"We should go, Anthony," said Smith, surprising her with the familiarity. Hufflepuffs they might both have been, but it had never seemed as if anyone in Smith's house had actually liked him. Or vice versa. "If you don't have anything important to say after all, Granger?"

"No, you go ahead," Hermione responded, resisting the sudden urge to remind Smith that she had beaten him to become promoted to an Unspeakable by a full year. "Auror Rickett, I hope to see you soon?"

Rickett understood what she was asking and nodded. "Within a fortnight, I expect."

Smith didn't spare her a glance as he walked past and Rickett followed, smiling courteously. Hermione sighed. A month locked up in a house and then a meagre two weeks before being locked up again for Merlin knows how long. But this was what she had signed up for. Even before taking on Barty. This was the work of the Unspeakables; it was unpredictable and without clear reason. She sighed again.

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"I can't believe you're already leaving." Harry leaned forward on the balcony railing, looking out over the neighborhood with her. He took a swig of his firewhiskey. When he handed the glass to Hermione she held her hand up to decline. Harry shrugged and downed the entire thing. "Even us Auror's seem to rest more than you."

Hermione sent him a wry smile. "Just because we're not out chasing dark wizards, doesn't mean our occupation is lacking action. And our work is never truly done, is it?"

Harry dropped any attempts to lighten the mood, as he appeared to realise what she was saying. While Auror's got the satisfaction of seeing the criminals get sent to Azkaban, Unspeakables only researched and there often seemed to be lacking a clear answer to their questions. Which had been part of the appeal for Hermione. She could get closer to finding an answer to something others deemed unanswerable. Now, however, she began to doubt all that. Doubt her ability to find an answer.

Because the more she researched Barty Crouch Jr, the less he made sense.

He'd had his whole life ahead of him. He had all the advantages possible in the wizarding world to rise. A well reputed father, countless connections among the higher ranks. Pure blood . . . Very unlike Hermione. But like Hermione—and she hated to admit it—Barty had even had the brains to persevere on cleverness alone.

And yet he'd thrown it all away.

She'd thought his need for love from a father figure had been the answer to his choices, but the more she considered this, the more she began to question it.

It was too simple.

She wasn't sure if she was overestimating Barty or underestimating herself for having found a perfectly acceptable answer. But something wasn't quite right.

Harry interrupted her thoughts and Hermione blinked and returned to watching the sunset with him, remembering how nice the gentle summer breeze was and being as much in the moment as she could. Savouring it. Somehow she was already feeling herself missing it. Tomorrow she'd have to go back.

"You promise me to be careful, right?" said Harry. "You promise not to take unnecessary risks? I know Rickett's there, and he's a good bloke, but . . ."

Hermione couldn't help it. Harry's concern moved her and so she took his hand. "I can't promise anything," she said, squeezing it. "But I'll do my best."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're not making this easy."

Hermione laughed. "When have our lives ever been easy?"

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The cottage was quiet. Too quiet.

It wasn't only the absence of the sound one heard when being transported through a portkey that had Hermione grip on her beaded bag grew firmer. No, it was that the whole area surrounding the cottage was silent. Even the birds weren't singing anymore. Two seconds and the place was already sending chills up her spine.

Something had gone terribly wrong here.

She attempted to explain the feelings she had away. Perhaps she had simply forgotten the animosity that surrounded Barty Crouch Jr. That could be all it was. Without her the animals hadn't seen any appeal in being here anymore. That must be the reason.

You're being ridiculous, she thought and steeled herself. It wouldn't do to get nervous and show vulnerability in front of Barty, especially after all this time apart. She couldn't risk their careful balance (of sorts) to skew and fully be in his favour.

Or perhaps . . .Hermione began to consider the possibility that Barty had somehow escaped. His unfailing loyalty to Voldemort had made him accomplish large feats, after all. Why wouldn't he have managed to escape and be out there now, looking for people to exact his vengeance upon?

But due to some bizarre nature this thought made Hermione want to go into the house even more. Because if it were true— if it somehow were true— then she needed to confirm that Barty was gone and get help. The world wasn't safe from his anger.

And so . . she entered.

The first thing she noticed was that the house was—if possible—even more silent than the outside was. It was deafening. It was . . .maddening. Hermione could already feel her neck prickle and all her nerves seemed to scream for her to get out.

Nevertheless, she continued on.

At the sound of her feet landing on the living room floor, quick and urgent steps across the room sounded, coming towards her. Hermione doesn't know whether to be relieved or worried. She doesn't have time to figure it out.

Instead, all she has time for it to turn around while her breath catches in her throat. Barty . . .

. . .Did not look good. He truly didn't. Oh, and he was also glaring at her.

After instinctively trying to back away and having Barty follow, Hermione catches the red rings around his eyes, the shadows under them and she deduces that whatever progress he'd made, he was now back quite a few steps. To what seems to be the state he must have been before she met him in his Azkaban cell all those weeks ago.

"Did you know?" he asks and it's the first time Hermione feels his hatred directed towards her. It was suffocating.

"K-know what?" she manages, terrified, and not able to move.

"Did you know?" he asks again.

"I—" In her state, she even forgets to look away and meets Barty's dark gaze head on.

She feels him attack her mind and after a couple of heavy, mad breaths through his teeth, Barty slowly calms down. His shoulders aren't heaving up and down as much and his pressure on her mental barrier is weakening. He takes a slow step back and growls to himself before stepping away. Hermione hears the door leading outside open and close with a bang.

What the bloody hell just happened?

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A/N: What the hell indeed.

It's been a while, folks! Hello! Hope you've all been well and enjoyed this chapter!

Until next time!
/Primrue