AN: I am so sorry it took me 500 years to get back to this. I lost ALL my notes to ALL my stories. It's been like starting over. Hopefully, I can make it worth the wait. Thanks for the reviews you've left for me. Thanks for reading!
Held firmly in the grip of an insane and ruthless criminal, I might be forgiven for being afraid. There is a cold streak of fear running through me, of course, making its presence known. I resist the shiver. I am, after all, CWA trained. Besides, weakness in the arms of Barty Crouch won't turn out well. Of this, I am fairly certain.
"Mr. Crouch, this is not a good plan," I try to convince him, but my voice is not as strong as I would like it to be. The arm across my neck may have something to do with it.
"And why is that, Agent? I obviously have the upper hand. I'm taller, I'm stronger. I've caught you by surprise."
"But this will gain you neither freedom nor death. There is no way out of here without being seen. Every wizard in this building knows who's in here with me. Do you think they will let you go?" I feel the shake in his hands as he listens, and I scan the room for anything that might help get me out of this situation. "Do you think they will let you walk out the door?"
"They all fear me. And there is no loyalty to you. I heard the matrons at the door."
Shit. Gossip never does help. So I can't build my argument around me. I have to come up with something he'll believe, or I'll have to hurt him. Damaging him won't be the most convenient play if I still hope to get him talking later. Think, Anwen, think.
"But there is loyalty to the Longbottoms. They will give you the one thing you fear more than any prison, I think. Will they Curse you? I think they will."
"No. No, no, no." A loosening in his hold. Not enough, not yet, but it's there. I've hit the mark.
"Let me go. Let me go, Mr. Crouch. Stop this before you can't."
He pauses, takes a deep breath, and shoves me away. Before he makes the turn to get back into his bed, I have him in MY grip, my wand at his throat.
"Put a hand on me again, prisoner, and there will be no talking. You will be nothing more than a handful of dandelion fluff if you try that shit again."
For a moment I see all light leave his eyes again. Defeat. That hopelessness I felt before. And then it's gone from the forefront of his personality, covered in false bravado and foolishness.
"Seems I awakened your fighting spirit, Agent. But why am I still whole now? You like my company that much already?"
If I'd been expecting a dejected retreat into a confused mind, I am now surely disappointed. I still find it rather incredible that he's so present and aware. I'm going to have to leave that misconception behind for good.
"I have a job to do, Mr. Crouch," I assure him as I back up and lower my wand. I do not put it away. "We are both going to stick around until I complete it."
"Mr. Crouch? A moment ago I was prisoner," he says as he climbs back into the bed and arranges his covers. This time he stays upright. "Why not just call me Barty?"
"Mr. Crouch will be fine."
"What's your given name, Agent?"
"You don't need to know," I reply in a more formal tone. I need to recapture the distant formality that his rash actions - and my reaction - have stolen away.
"Is it something appallingly American like Kayla or Dakota?" He's wearing a gleeful smile that seems very nearly real. How can he be so distinctly different in just the ten heartbeats between his physical threat and his juvenile teasing? Locked up so long with only himself for company, that's how. I am almost sympathetic. And certainly much more cautious. He's trying to get the upper hand. Conniving. And smart. So smart.
"No, no, not that. No, your family would have given you a name with weight and import. A family name. A name that reflects the past, I think. You're a Hafgan, Agent. Welsh family," he continues. paying no mind to my ignoring him.
But, of course, I'm not actually ignoring him. I am too intrigued. I wonder how close he'll get to the truth of it. No matter.
"Mr. Crouch, I will be gone a for a day or two, and I hope that you will take the time to think of any detail that might help me figure out what happened at Azkaban." Time to regain control. I intend to make him wait. He'll stew, he'll wonder, he'll be afraid and lonely. He'll hate it. And then maybe I can get him to tell me something. Anything.
"You're called Bronwen or Rhiannon, yes?'" He considers my reactions closely, and I try to show none at all. He is not dissuaded. Or fooled. "No, not those. I rather thought Rhiannon would be right. Very witchy, that one. No bother; I have other ideas."
"I'm going back out to Azkaban for further investigation."
"It's not Meredith or Gwen. Too normal for you, too accepted in America."
"Anything you can tell me to make my job easier? Help me out here, if you can, Mr. Crouch." Maybe if he thinks he's holding the important cards. . .
"Isolde is too literary."
Guess not. "We'll talk more when I get back. Maybe then you'll have something to say." I walk out the door without another word or glance.
"I will be here waiting for your return," he calls out. Then he adds one more word just before the door closes. The word I guess I knew he'd find his way to. "Anwen."
"He knows your name," Harry says, very unhappily, from his seat on a chair outside the room.
"Yes. He guessed it."
"He said he'd be waiting for you."
"I think a couple of days to sit and wait will be good for him."
"Do you want out of this, Anwen? Is he too much? It's okay to say it is," he continues when he sees I am about to protest. "I wouldn't be able to do it."
"I think I can get to him, Harry. He's testing me right now, is all. Seeing if I'm worthy. "
"How is he even able to speak? Much less argue with you?"
"He was never Kissed," I inform my superior as I lead him away from the sure to be listening ears of our prisoner. "Any crazy inside his head is of his own making. The Dementors left him alone."
"All this time, he's been awake and alive in there. He was one I thought was surely safely comatose. I really did," he sighs then shakes it off. "Can he help? Will he help?"
"I'm not sure. But it looks ever more likely that he's the only one left who may hold a clue. I just need to get him talking."
"Should we try someone else?"
"I don't think he'd accept anyone else now."
He stops and looks at me, accessing whether that's true or if I'm just trying to hold on to my assignment. I'm not going to analyze my motives too closely, to be honest. After a moment's consideration, Harry says, "Then get back to Azkaban with Ron. Gather as much information as you can about the explosion. Without Crouch there, you should be able to focus on that other lead, correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Do it. Then get back here and use what you learn. If Crouch has the answers, I want them. Sooner rather than later, Agent Hafgan."
"Yes, Sir," I answer to his retreating robes.