I won't bother introducing this one, the title's just below, I would have put it as the name of the chapter but it was too long so I had to cut it a bit, and I know how much some of you have wanted to read this, so I'll shut up and you can read it!

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An exclusive view into the mind of Barty Crouch

Barty Crouch Jr sighed as he lay on his bed. He hadn't been out of his room for days. It was strange, having been prisoner inside his own house for nearly fourteen years, he would have expected himself to be anywhere but inside now that he was free. But lately something had made him feel inclined to stay in his room and not socialise with anyone.

An owl flew in through the window, landed on his cupboard and looked in concern at him. It hopped onto his bed and nibbled affectionately at his ear, as owls are wont to do.

Having no reaction from its master, the owl decided that he must not know it was there, so bit him hard on his finger.

"Ow!" Barty cried, sitting up quickly. The owl hooted in alarm and flew out of the window again. "Blasted owls," he grumbled, lying back down.

Even he admitted, he had not been himself lately. Instead of his usual joke pulling and noisy, disruptive attitude, he hadn't even spoken to any of his fellow Death Eaters for ages, and just let Wormtail walk all over him.

The reason for this could only be traced back to April Fools day, when he was embarrassingly covered in jam. After that, he had considered himself to be useless, and retired to his room to sulk and ponder about life.

Certainly the others had noticed. Dolohov, whom he had always had a good friendship, had noticed the way Wormtail was picking on him, Lucius had ceased to glance at him disdainfully when he passed, turning to ignoring him completely, and Voldemort – well he didn't really care, but others definitely noticed.

He wondered why losing to the others bothered him so much. Perhaps he was just too proud for his own good.

There was a knock on his door.

"Come in," he said flatly. The door opened and Dolohov came into the room.

"Hello," Dolohov said. "I just brought you up some lunch."

Barty shrugged.

"You know, me and the others are a bit worried about you," he continued. "You haven't come out for ages."

The only reply he got was another shrug. Dolohov had a sudden thought.

"Wormtail's turning into quite the practical joker," he said.

Barty didn't shrug this time; in fact he seemed to be listening intently.

"He's doing everything you used to do," Dolohov said. "Turning Lucius's hair green, stealing everyone's maltesers, just like you, except a lot better of course."

"What?" Barty said, sitting up.

"Oh yeah," Dolohov replied. "He's much better than you ever were. Anyway, just thought I should tell you. Bye."

He left the room, feeling rather pleased with himself.

Barty stared into space for a little, thinking. Wormtail, a better practical joker than him? The thought was ridiculous. He was nowhere near tall enough to reach up and put buckets over doors, or set up that trap of pure genius that had Voldemort suspended from the ceiling.

Then Barty realised, this was stupid. He was a better practical joker than all of them put together! Especially Wormtail. And, as much as he hated to admit it, he was the son of a highly respected ministry figure, and ministry figures did not give up. They persevered!

Barty jumped out of his bed, feeling the colour rush back into him, and the wonderfully familiar evil grin spread over his face. He would not give up his position to Wormtail! He rummaged through his drawers, feeling a plan mould itself in his mind. He would show Wormtail who the best practical joker was. He would show everyone!

He crept out of his room a few minutes later, holding something under his cloak. He tiptoed down the stairs and peered around the door of the kitchen where Wormtail was replacing Lucius's meringue mix with shaving cream.

He coughed and walked through the door.

"Oh hello Barty," Wormtail grinned nastily. "Come to try the meringues?"

"No actually Wormtail," Barty replied. "I came to give you something, you know, passing the torch to the next practical joker king."

"I'm glad to see you've come around," Wormtail said. "Well then, let me have it."

"Well then," Barty sighed. "If you insist."

And he drew out one of those muggle water guns, except there definitely wasn't water inside. Barty aimed it at Wormtail who stared in horror and back into the corner.

"MY LORD!" He cried, but no sooner had the last word left his mouth than he was absolutely covered in strawberry jam.

"Who's the best practical joker NOW?" Barty yelled, cackling, as the other Death Eaters, startled by the commotion, rushed into the room.

"Crouch!" Voldemort cried. "What have you been doing with my jam?"

"Why nothing my lord," Barty said innocently. "Ask Wormtail."

"WORMTAIL!" Voldemort yelled. "Explain yourself!"

"But – my lord!" Wormtail cried, staring aghast at Barty who smirked at him. "It wasn't me – It was –" But before he could finish his sentence, Voldemort dragged Wormtail out by his ears.

"You'll be scrubbing every single corner of this house!" He yelled from the corridor. "And you better start now!"

Barty sighed contentedly, revenge was sweet.

"Barty's back." Dolohov grinned. And the others had to agree.

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That was for all of the Barty fans! He is now officially back! Mwa ha ha ha ha ha ha!