QLFC — Round 11 — Captain: Be inspired by the title: 'Who's Afraid of the Dark?'
Chudley Cannons Team Challenge: include a HP villain in your story
Summary: Barty is alone. Always. Even when he isn't.
WC. 1498
Darkness, My Enemy
Stay home.
Stay home.
Stay home.
They are the only two words that run through Barty's mind for months. He must stay home. Even though he doesn't want to stay home, it is all he is capable of doing. Alone, with nobody but the family house-elf, Winky, for company.
And Winky isn't really much company. She spends her days bringing him food and water, and ensuring that he stays home. Barty knows that she is reporting back to his father, but there's nothing he can do to stop her. All he can do is sit there, alone, and wait.
The days pass by, then the weeks, and eventually the months. Barty is always alone.
Because Winky doesn't count.
…
The darkness becomes his enemy. It surrounds his every waking moment, and his every sleeping moment. He wakes up in the magically locked cellar his father has set up, the only source of light being the small candle flickering in the corner that Winky has lit.
He eats in the dark, alone, and then he stays there until his father returns from work. From up above, he hears Winky talking to his father about how the day has gone. What is there to report? Nothing has happened. Nothing can happen. His father has made sure of that. Even if he wanted to, Barty couldn't leave the house, because all he knows is stay home.
After the house-elf has filled in his father on the lack of activity, Barty hears his mother. Her voice is soft, gentle, and she pleads with her husband.
Just for an hour.
No.
Then the footsteps descend the stairs and his mother's terrified face comes into his sight. Tears roll down her cheeks, but she doesn't say anything. She's just there to look.
Barty tries to speak to her, but then he remembers.
His mother is dead.
…
As the months draw on, Barty becomes frustrated. He can no longer bear the darkness in the cellar. He becomes afraid of it. Every shadow, every bump makes him jump. He hears voices of those who are not there — his mother, mostly.
Winky still brings him food, his mother still comes to stare at him, but he is still always alone.
After a while, more thoughts begin to enter his mind. Where all he could do was stay home, he starts to think of other things now.
Things like what if I don't want to stay home? and I must find my master.
It takes him a while to remember who his master is, but when he does remember, it is like a cloud lifting from his mind, and one day, he ascends the stairs of his family's home.
"Master Barty!" Winky gasps, her pathetic figure waddling over to him. "No, no, you must go back downstairs."
Barty looks down at her, looking her over. She is terrified. He almost feels sorry for her.
Almost.
"Bring me some food, Winky," he says. He sees her hesitate, but she's a house-elf, and she has to obey. She scuttles away, muttering to herself.
It is light upstairs, and he feels freer. He can think more clearly when there are windows for peering out into the world.
As Winky bustles about in the kitchen, her wailing echoing around the house, he stands by one of the windows and watches. His master is out there somewhere, weakened, but alive. Barty is sure of it. He is free now, out of Azkaban. He is the only one who can find him. And he will.
Oh, Barty will be the one to find his master and restore him to full strength again.
And Barty will be rewarded beyond anyone else's imagining.
…
The Darkness consumes Barty once again. As he grows stronger, and those around him weaker, he finds himself easily able to slip out of the house.
The wretched house-elf, Winky, takes pity on him (and becomes more afraid of him), and so turns a blind eye when he leaves the house unbeknownst to his father.
He always makes sure he comes back by the evening, returning to the cellar, where he still eats dinner alone and sleeps alone.
Every day he fights the Imperius Curse, until finally, he is no longer under it. He is completely free. There are no thoughts that are not his own running through his head anymore.
His father is weak; Barty is strong.
And Winky has no choice but to ask about the World Cup.
…
People scream. They scatter in all directions, afraid of the Death Eaters who have decided to cause a scene tonight.
Pathetic, Barty scoffs as he stands in the shadows, watching. They call themselves followers — these people who hide behind masks, afraid of being recognised. They should be proud, fierce in their support of the Dark Lord. That's what Barty would do.
That's what he is doing. He is there, in the shadows, Potter's wand at the ready. As the last frightened World Cup-goers pass, Barty takes his chance.
"Master, no!" Winky cries. "Bad Barty. You mustn't. You can't!"
"Silence!" Barty hisses, and the elf falls silent immediately, her large eyes watching in terror. She can't see him, for he is under an Invisibility Cloak, but she can feel him.
"Morsmordre," Barty cries, pointing his wand into the sky.
Winky trembles silently beside him, tears streaming down her frightened face, fingers in her mouth.
Barty smiles up at the sky, feeling a rush of something he can't describe surge through him.
The screams of terror follow him as he creeps further into the darkness.
…
Barty kneels before the Dark Lord, pleased, elated. Here he is before Barty, praising Barty, for his undying loyalty.
"I know I can trust you," he hisses, and Barty is filled with pride.
Yes. The Dark Lord can always trust Barty. With anything.
"I have a job for you, my most loyal of servants," the Dark Lord rasps.
"Anything, my Lord," Barty says.
The Dark Lord smiles — and Barty does his best not to look away, for what the Dark Lord is now is terrifying. "Bring me Harry Potter."
Barty bows so low from his kneeling position, his nose touches the ground. "Yes, my Lord."
…
Oh, how Barty wishes he could be at the graveyard. All his plans, they have fallen into place. Harry Potter is there as he watches from the stands in the Quidditch pitch, and Wormtail — Barty scoffs — will return the Dark Lord to his full power.
Barty almost can't believe how smoothly everything is going. How he has managed to fool even Dumbledore for so long.
And soon… soon Barty will be free to return to his master, and Harry Potter will be dead.
He smiles to himself as he waits. The Portkey will return soon, and with it will be Voldemort — back to his full strength.
But something goes wrong. So, horribly wrong, so quickly. Barty jumps to his feet — well, his one real leg and his other wooden one — as the Portkey lands on the ground.
Cheers erupt, but Barty doesn't cheer, for it is Harry Potter who has returned, clutching the dead body of the Diggory boy.
No! Barty thinks. It isn't possible. He couldn't have —
Barty hurries forward. Dumbledore is already there, and Potter is saying things like, "He's come back!"
But then…
Fear consumes Barty. He has failed. This isn't how it was supposed to happen. Barty was to be rewarded beyond anything — he was going to be the Dark Lord's most faithful…
But he failed.
And suddenly, the world that was so bright these last few months, has returned to the same darkness of his parents' cellar.
And Barty is afraid.
…
Barty is alone once more.
They have him locked in a tower at Hogwarts after they used Veritaserum on him. They say they're getting the Dementors.
Barty shivers.
The Dementors.
He tries not to think about the inevitable, for they have confiscated Moody's wand and put many protective charms around the tower. The thought of Azkaban is a comfort in comparison, but he is helpless.
His mind goes to the words that clouded all other thoughts when he was first let out.
Stay home.
Maybe he should have done that, maybe he should have listened.
But it's too late now, because at any moment the Dementors will come and they will perform the Kiss and he will be —
Well…
He shivers again.
Then the door opens, and Fudge is there, followed by other Ministry employees, and…
They don't even say anything. They don't read his rites. The Dementor goes straight for him, its face ugly beneath the cloak.
It draws nearer, its breath cold on his face, long, decayed fingers reaching for him.
Barty can't move. He is paralysed with fear.
Its mouth is upon his, and all happiness, all thought, all desire, is gone.
The last thing Barty senses is…
Darkness.
Well, this is the final round of the main season of Quidditch League. However, as my team currently sits second on the ladder, we are most likely making it to the first round of the finals, so there is a high probability there will be one more fic for this collection. After that, however, it's knock-out, so we shall see!
Thank you to my amazing team for betaing this (and putting up with my constant nagging to write their stories!). You guys are honestly the best team ever!
Also, who says other teams can't be friends? Shout out to Bex (the Harpies Captain) for also having a look at this for me :D Much appreciated!
See you in the finals!