Okay, so the stupid engineer man broke my internet, but it's fixed, so without further ado, here is the next chapter!
By the way, it's just before the Easter holidays now (in the story).
Enjoy x
No one's POV in particular
The Scottish highlands were wet and windy. A lone car trundled along a dirt track, up to an isolated inn on a hillside. When the car reached the driveway, it slowed and stopped. The chauffeur stepped out, holding an umbrella against the pounding rain, struggling to stop it from turning inside out against the insistent wind. He opened the passenger side door and a man in a crisp gray suit got out. He straightened up and looked around disdainfully. The chauffeur kicked the car door closed and the pair made their way up to the inn door. The door was black, with rusted silver decorations adorning the frame. The guttering above them over flowed and dripped onto the umbrella, adding to the already shiny moisture on the dark material.
The inside of the run down tavern was just as dark, dreary and empty as the outside. The tiny fireplace smoldered, as if someone had recently tried to light a fire and almost succeeded, but ultimately failed. A grubby man wiped the bar with an even dirtier rag, eyeing the newcomers greedily. The man in the grey suit nodded at his chauffeur and the servant stepped back out into the rain, closing the door behind him. The man walked up to the bar and greeted the bartender.
"What can I do y'for?" the filthy man said. "Beer? We got a good batch in from the village yesterday."
"No" replied the man. "I'd rather have a scotch on the rocks, if a small business like this has any."
The bartender frowned and got a small glass out. To say it was clean would have been a lie, because the glass was obviously unwashed and very chipped. The man wrinkled his nose and pushed the glass away from him, as if the uncleanliness was contagious.
"Never mind" the man said. "I'm here to meet a... friend. He goes by Davis."
"Oh right" the bartender said, shrinking back. "this way."
He scuttled off into the shadows and the man followed. They went up a flight of stairs and down a creaky corridor. The bartender stopped outside the last door in the hallway.
"Your... friend is in here, sir" he said. "Please do let me know if you need anything at all."
Ignoring the bartender, the man in the grey suit knocked thrice on the door and entered without waiting for a reply. Just before the man in the suit disappeared through the doorway, the bartender thought he saw his tongue flick out and over his lips. The filthy old man shrugged and scurried back down to the bar, eager to resume his daydreams about the innkeeper's wife.
Inside the room, both men were sat in armchairs opposite each other. They stared at each other for a while, until Davis shifted uncomfortably and spoke.
"How can you be the one running all this? You're barely an adult."
"Mr Davis, you underestimate me" tutted the suited man. "I have been waiting for the Dark Lord's demise for quite some time. Now is the moment and we must seize it with both hands."
Davis nodded and swallowed nervously, his Adam's Apple bobbing.
"How did our little operation go?" the man asked.
"Not too well" Davis mumbled. "Fudge missed and got captured. We can't use him any further."
"No matter, no matter" the man hummed. "The point of the exercise was to cause panic and there was plenty of terror from what the papers say."
"Yes, Riddle is now in St Mungo's again" said Davis eagerly. "He shouldn't get in our way any more."
"Ah, but Davis" said the man. "We need him in the way, so the next stage of the plan will have to wait."
"Sorry Mr Crouch" Davis said quickly, fidgeting even more. "We just thought that-"
"Davis, it pains me to do this, but I did tell you" Crouch chided, slipping his wand out of his sleeve. "My name is no longer that of my weak father. My name is Chikara. Crucio."
Davis screamed and fell out his chair, writhing in pain and trying to get away from the source of agony. Chikara ended the spell and watched calmly as Davis clambered, gasping back into his chair, while putting his wand back.
"I am sorry, master" he pleaded. "It will not happen again."
"See that it doesn't" sniffed Bartemius Crouch Jr. "Because next time I will not be so forgiving."
"Yes, sir" Davis whimpered. "What's our next move?"
Chikara considered this question for a while.
"We wait until Riddle is out of hospital and out in public. This time, you will send one of our people, not some blithering imperiused idiot" he sneered. "Then we kill him. After that, we go for the big prizes."
"What's the big prize?"
"Potter, or course" sighed Crouch. "Who did the last Dark Lord fail to kill every time. If I kill Potter, the entire wizarding world will bow to my will. but before him comes Scrimgeour."
"So we can take the Ministry and use them to get to Potter?" Davis suggested.
"No, you fool" growled Chikara. "That would drive the Potters into hiding and we would never see them again! No. We wait for the next Minister to step up and then we take control of him."
Davis nodded enthusiastically, forgetting him earlier punishment. Crouch stood and smoothed his suit.
"Goodbye, Mr Davis, I will contact you when you are needed."
"Goodbye... Chikara."
Crouch strode out the door, satisfied with the proceedings. He nodded at the bartender on the way out and stepped into the rain. He took his wand back out, displeased to see that the car was not on the driveway. Resolving to punish the driver later, he readied himself for apparition.
With a loud crack, Barty Crouch Junior disappeared, leaving the bartender gaping in shock at the window.