THE searing agony that surged through Christine's head upon the witch's awakening was nearly insufferable. A soft moan escaped her lips as she slowly regained consciousness. It took her several minutes to pry open her eyes, and when she finally managed to do so, she was greeted by an unexpected sight. She found herself reclined in a plush, comfortable armchair, one entirely unfamiliar to her.
For a brief moment, confusion clouded her thoughts as the events of the evening rushed back into her memory, gradually dispelling the haze that had enveloped her mind. She attempted to raise her head and direct her gaze toward the front of the sitting room.
However, as soon as she made the effort, her vision was marred by a swarm of black spots, and a dizzying sensation overcame her.
"Merlin," she groaned, burying her face in her hands, her breath coming in shaky gasps as she willed the queasiness to subside.
Once the nausea had passed, she gingerly removed her hands from her face and cautiously scanned the room, looking to her left and right in search of any sign of Barty. To her dismay, there was no trace of the Death Eater, nor his loyal house-elf, Winky, or Kreela.
A wave of panic swept over her, clutching at her heart and causing it to race painfully against her chest. Trembling, she rose unsteadily to her feet and began to shuffle nervously toward the door, her mind plagued by uncertainty about which direction to take in her quest to locate Barty.
As Christine ventured curiously towards the door, a tantalizing scent wafted through the room, interrupting her nearly frantic search for the wizard who had sworn an oath to the Dark Lord to protect her. The aroma was unmistakable; the delicious aroma of a soup being prepared. Hunger gnawed at her insides despite her anxiety, and the realization of her empty stomach hit the witch like a wave.
Her steps became more purposeful as she followed the enticing scent, her curiosity piqued. She soon found herself standing at a crossroads, where one path looked to lead straight to the kitchen, and the other to what seemed to be a dining room.
The scent was stronger here, luring her with the promise of food. Christine hesitated for only a moment before deciding to follow the source of the smell. Her hunger demanded attention, and perhaps she would find some answers in the process.
With determined steps, she made her way toward the dining room, her heart racing with a mix of apprehension and anticipation.
The mystery of her surroundings deepened, but for now, the allure of food and the hope of finding Barty and talking with the wizard drove her forward. Christine's mind drifted once more to thoughts of Barty Crouch Jr. as she approached the man's dining room.
Like it or not, the enigmatic Death Eater had now become a significant part of her life.
She couldn't help but wonder where he had gone off to and what had transpired since she'd lost consciousness. The recent memory of Barty asking his master to allow him to look after her flooded her mind. She furrowed her thin dark eyebrows into a confused frown.
Despite the danger and darkness that surrounded him, there was a part of Christine that couldn't help but feel the beginnings of a twisted sense of affection for Barty. She had seen fleeting glimpses of humanity in him, buried deep beneath the façade of a loyal Death Eater to the Dark Lord. Her heart was heavy with concern, not just for herself but also for Kreela. She couldn't help but wonder whether they were truly safe within the confines of the man's home or if her presence here posed an even greater threat.
However, her thoughts were momentarily diverted as the enticing aroma of the meal grew stronger as she approached the dining room.
As Christine moved closer to the source of the scent, her mind remained consumed by thoughts of the Death Eater who, in a strange twist of fate, was rapidly becoming the central figure in her life. She hoped that following the alluring scent of food would not only satisfy her hunger but also provide answers about Barty's whereabouts and the intricate web of destiny that seemed to entwine them.
Upon entering the dining room, she found herself alone. Two bowls of piping hot onion soup were neatly arranged on the table, accompanied by a basket of fresh buns and elegantly set place settings. The soft glow of candlelight in the center of the table only heightened her hunger.
As she reached out to claim the chair she assumed was hers, the sound of approaching footsteps from behind made her sit up straight, and she instinctively turned her gaze towards the door, hoping it was Barty.
However, to her surprise, it was not him but his house-elf, Winky, who entered first, with Kreela following closely behind. Both creatures wore expressions of profound fear. The sight of Winky and Kreela standing so closely together in the doorway was unusual.
Christine had quickly learned that these two house-elves did not particularly like or trust each other, in keeping with the typical attitudes of house-elves. Her sudden appearance near the chair she assumed was hers startled both Winky and Kreela, causing them to almost drop the glasses they were holding. Their faces registered immediate concern, and their hushed conversation came to an abrupt halt as they hurried into Barty's dining room in a flurry of activity.
"Miss Lestrange! Miss Lestrange!" Winky squeaked, her already large, round eyes widening even further in surprise.
Meanwhile, Kreela's expression remained almost serene as the older house-elf spoke in a faint, quavering, ancient voice.
"Is Mistress feeling all right?" Kreela inquired softly, her brow furrowing with genuine concern.
Christine made an effort to hide her surprise at their reaction, though she found it challenging not to be startled by their sudden agitation. She managed to offer the pair of flustered house-elves a faint, reassuring smile, despite her unease.
"I'm alright," she gently reassured them, her voice steady. "You're both so kind to worry, but there's no need. I was just lured in by the smell of the food. Is everything here in order?" she inquired softly.
Winky, still visibly anxious, nodded vigorously. "Yes, Mistress Lestrange, everything is perfectly arranged. Master Barty requested that Winky and Kreela prepare dinner for both of you. Dinner is already prepared and waiting for you. Winky was just taken by surprise, that's all," she explained, her voice carrying a slight stutter due to nervousness.
Without paying much heed to Christine's quiet protests that she could manage it herself, Winky hurried forward and took the initiative to pull out Christine's chair for her.
Christine reluctantly complied, allowing Winky to seat her. As she settled into her chair, Christine couldn't help but wonder if there was more to their reaction than met the eye. However, for now, she decided not to press the matter further.
Instead, she took a moment to survey the dining room, curious about what awaited her in this enigmatic place.
As her gaze swept across the room, her attention was instantly seized by a portrait hanging on the wall.
A flickering candle, perched on a small wooden nightstand beneath the portrait, cast an eerie glow on the stern visage of the figure depicted—a wizard clad in the official Ministry of Magic attire.
A shiver coursed through her as she became certain that the man portrayed before her was none other than Barty Crouch Sr., Barty's father. It was a striking likeness of the man her father had spoken of in less than favorable terms on several occasions. The portrait masterfully conveyed the authoritative aura of a once-prominent figure in the wizarding world, now deceased.
Christine found herself irresistibly drawn to it, the undeniable family resemblance between father and son on full display. Both shared the same penetrating dark eyes, distinctive sharp noses, and angular features.
She didn't even need to glance at the inscription at the portrait's base to confirm its identity as his father.
Her gaze lingered on the portrait, and almost under her breath, she muttered, "His father..." Her voice trailed off, her concern evident, as she turned her head in response to the sensation of Winky's hand gently resting on her left knee.
Looking down, she met the gaze of Barty's house-elf, who regarded her with a mixture of concern and caution in her wide eyes.
"Mistress Lestrange, you needn't trouble yourself with that. Master Crouch has passed on. It's a portrait that Young Master Barty prefers to keep concealed; he...he doesn't like to speak of his father." Winky's voice quivered, tears welling up in her eyes at the mention of her former master.
Just as Winky and Christine found themselves immersed in a solemn moment, the room's ambiance underwent an abrupt transformation. Barty Crouch Sr.'s portrait appeared to stir in response to his former house-elf's voice, and the colors within the image began to spring to life as if the wizard himself were rousing from a deep slumber.
The imposing figure, adorned in his Ministry robes, blinked, and to Christine's astonishment, he awakened fully. His eyes, just as piercing as his portrait had depicted, swept across the room.
With a voice that effortlessly commanded attention, he bellowed, "Elf! Explain this at once! Who is this witch in my dining room?"
Winky nearly leaped out of her skin, her diminutive frame trembling. Her large, bat-like ears drooped in submission as she stammered in response, "M-Master Crouch, sir, this is Mistress Christine Lestrange, a guest in your home, a... a friend of Young Master Barty," her words escaping her breathlessly.
Barty Crouch Sr.'s portrait continued to scrutinize Christine with a cold intensity that sent a chill down her spine as his eyes narrowed in suspicion. After a heavy silence that seemed to stretch on past the point of what was comfortable, the wizard's portrait spoke again, his voice tinged with a bitterness impossible to ignore.
"A 'friend' of my son, you say, elf? It appears…even in my death, he continues to make curious choices. Tell me, Lestrange, do you know what my son was involved in? The dark path that my only son chose?" he bit out with a bark to his voice that made Christine flinch in surprise.
Christine hesitated for a moment, her gaze shifting between Barty Crouch Sr.'s portrait and Winky, who had come to stand behind Christine and was now clutching at fistfuls of her skirt as though she thought Christine would be her shield against her former master's harsh words.
She knew of Barty's involvement with the Death Eaters, of course, she knew, but she also knew it was a painful topic for the house-elf.
She thought for a moment as she chose her words carefully, finally answering Barty Crouch Sr. in a low voice, "I…I am aware of his past, sir, yes. I am."
A bitter laugh escaped Barty Crouch Sr.'s lips, filled with self-loathing and even hate.
"Past? No, no, you misunderstand me, my dear. My son, my flesh and blood, was a Death Eater, a follower of You-Know-Who himself, and I was blind to it! Blind! For years, I was a high-ranking official within the Ministry of Magic, hunting down Dark wizards to the best of my capability, while my flesh and blood carried out their heinous deeds under my very nose." He seemed to grow more animated, his portrait's form radiating anger and frustration. "I hate the boy for what he did, the stain and ruin he has brought upon our family name, and I hate myself for being so utterly blind to his treachery for so long. My obsession with law and order blinded me to the darkness growing within my own family. It's a stain on the Crouch name that can never be erased."
Winky, who had been trembling throughout her former master's entire exchange, couldn't help but weep silently at her former master's confession. It was a painful reminder of the Crouch family's tragic history, one that she had witnessed from the shadows for too long.
The room was heavy with the weight of revelations and regrets, and Christine couldn't help but feel a sense of empathy for the tortured spirit of Barty Crouch Sr., haunted by the sins of his son and his blindness to them. It was a chilling reminder that even in the world of magic, some wounds ran too deeply to ever truly heal.
Just as Christine was on the verge of speaking, the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps sent her heart into her throat.
Her lips parted to form words, but they remained unsaid as she heard his voice call out to her, his tone laced with unmistakable fury.
"Christine!" Barty Crouch Jr.'s voice was a low, menacing rumble, causing her heart to pound even harder.
The color drained from her face as she slowly turned to face the furious wizard. His eyes blazed with anger, his dark hair was disheveled, and his face contorted with rage as he beheld the admittedly awkward scene before him: Christine, standing in awe before his father's portrait.
Barty seethed with anger as he stalked towards Christine and confronted her, his voice dripping with venom as he spoke through gritted teeth.
"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Christine?" The Death Eater's words were sharp, and he towered over her as he came to a halt a few feet from her, the wizard's rage nearly palpable.
Christine's heart raced, and she struggled to find her voice in the face of her new protector's fury.
"I…I was just—"
But before she could explain or further attempt to defend herself, an unexpected voice echoed through the room, one that sent a shiver down her spine.
It was the voice of Barty Crouch Sr.'s portrait.
"Bartemius!" the portrait admonished in a stern tone that carried an air of authority even in its painted form. "This is how you treat a witch who has by my estimation shown you nothing but kindness, even when a bastard like you does not deserve such a charming witch in your life as your partner?" he said.
Barty's seething demeanor almost seemed to crumble under the weight of his father's portrait's admonishment. His furious countenance slowly gave way to a conflicted expression as he flicked his hardened gaze back to the portrait of his late father and scowled.
The portrait, despite being a mere representation, held a powerful sway over him. Christine silently watched the transformation, her heart still pounding but a glimmer of hope starting to emerge. Unexpectedly, she felt an unexpected ally in Barty Crouch Sr.'s portrait. The painted figure continued, his voice now holding paternal authority.
"You ought to be grateful, Bartemius, to have a witch like Miss Lestrange by your side. Kindness is too rare a trait in our world, and it should be cherished."
Barty Jr.'s furious expression seemed to waver as he turned his full attention to his father's portrait, his shoulders tense.
"The witch was meddling with something she should not have. She should not speak to you," he retorted, his voice still edged with anger.
Barty Crouch Sr. made a noise of dissent and regarded Christine with a scrutinizing gaze, his painted eyes seeming to pierce through her soul.
"And what is it you see in this witch, boy? Is she like you, lost to the darkness within?" he bit out.
Barty Jr. hesitated, his anger momentarily giving way to a conflicted expression.
"No," he said firmly. "Christine is different. Mother would have adored her." The mention of his late mother seemed to soften him, though his anger still simmered beneath the surface. Christine, caught amid this tense family dynamic, could only watch in bewilderment as the Crouch family's complexities played out before her.
Barty's anger continued to simmer beneath the surface as he turned his attention back to Christine, his body still rigid with tension. His voice, however, had lowered in volume, though it retained a hint of the anger that had flared moments ago.
"That portrait is never to be disturbed," he muttered, his words more controlled but still carrying an undertone of fury.
Christine felt a mixture of sympathy and curiosity churning inside her as she nervously met Barty's gaze. She realized she might have overstepped her bounds and ventured into sensitive territory. Still, her desire to understand him and perhaps help him heal compelled her to speak.
"I'm sorry if I crossed a line," she said sincerely, her voice gentle and empathetic. "But don't you ever wonder about the man in that portrait? The father you never truly gave yourself the chance to know?" The moment the words left her lips, Christine mentally scolded herself for her audacity. Who was she to question Barty's choices or delve into the past he seemed so determined to bury? Yet, there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes, a belief that sometimes confronting the past was the only way to move forward.
For a moment, the room was draped in uncomfortable silence as Barty regarded Christine with a mix of surprise and irritation. His fists clenched and then slowly relaxed as he wrestled with his emotions. Christine held her breath, fearing she had gone too far. Then, unexpectedly, Barty's stern expression softened. He turned away from Christine and walked towards the portrait on the wall and as he turned his profile to the side to better glare at the portrait of his father on the wall, there was a sadness in the man's eyes that hinted at a life untold.
With a swift flick of his wand, he drew the curtain closed around Barty Crouch Sr.'s portrait, concealing both the image and its ornate frame. He then cast a Muffliato Silencing Charm, ensuring that the portrait of his father would remain mute, sparing him from any further words.
"I've spent my entire bloody life," Barty began, his voice laced with bitterness, "trying to mold myself into the man he might have wanted me to be. But honestly, I'm not even sure I know what that means anymore. I've buried him and his memory so deep, it's easier to pretend the past never existed."
As Barty continued, the room seemed to grow colder, and Christine couldn't help but shiver as he confessed to a heinous act.
"I killed my father," he said, the words escaping his lips like venom, "when he discovered it was me disguised as Auror Moody. I Transfigured his body into a bone and buried it somewhere so deep in the heart of the Forbidden Forest that not even the wolves that roam those woods would want to dig it up and gnaw at it."
Christine listened intently, her heart pounding in her chest as she absorbed the shocking revelation. She struggled to reconcile the man standing before her with the confession he had just made. It was a chilling admission, one that sent a wave of dread through her.
Yet, amidst the horror of Barty's revelation, she felt an unexpected pang of sympathy. She could sense the torment and anguish in his voice, the burden of a secret he had carried for far too long. Still, she reminded herself to be cautious, not to let her guard down in the presence of a confessed murderer.
Taking a tentative step closer, Christine extended a hand towards Barty, a gesture of support and understanding. She knew that beneath the layers of darkness, there might still be a glimmer of humanity worth saving. But she also knew she had to tread carefully in this treacherous territory. Barty's eyes, once filled with anger and pain, now held a mixture of relief and vulnerability as he looked at Christine. He hesitated for a moment, then accepted her outstretched hand, his grip surprisingly gentle.
Christine's heart raced as their hands met, and she couldn't help but feel a strange connection with the man standing before her, a connection she never thought possible given the nature of his confession and how he had ripped her away from her home and all that she had known and was now a pawn in the Dark Lord's quest for power and dominance over their world. Like it or not, Barty had ensured that she remained tied to him, that the two of them were bonded together, as partners, for better or worse.
The walls of the dining room seemed to close in around them, Winky and Kreela standing cowering behind Christine as silent witnesses to their owner's encounter.
"Barty," Christine said softly, choosing to use his name in an attempt to humanize him. She noticed that he seemed to like hearing his name on her lips, so she made a mental note to say it as much as possible going forward. "What you've done is... unimaginable. But... I can see the pain in your eyes, the remorse you feel. How did it come to this? How did you end up as a Death Eater to the Dark Lord? From what I know of you, of your past, you had everything you could ever want. Loving parents, this beautiful house, wealth, so why? Why did you join the Death Eaters? Why do you want to hurt people?" she asked shakily. "And why did you bury your father's body in the Forest?" she asked softly, shaking her head vehemently to herself as she tried to make sense of the dark and twisted path that had led Barty Crouch Jr. to this moment.
A bitter laugh escaped his lips.
"I thought it was fitting, I suppose, Christine. The Forest is a place of darkness, of forbidden secrets, just like my family. I wanted to erase any trace of the bastard, to ensure that no one would ever find out what I had done."
As the truth of Barty's story sank in, Christine felt a mixture of sympathy and revulsion. Christine took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions.
She wondered if there was even the slightest chance of redeeming Barty or helping him to find his way to walk into the light and to help him do that if that's what he wanted, she had to understand his journey, as twisted and horrifying as it was. She swallowed hard and felt a sheen of sweat start to glitter along her scalp as she looked at him.
"Barty," she whispered, her voice gentle but firm. "You can't erase your past by burying it in the Forbidden Forest or by serving the Dark Lord. There's still a chance for redemption, for healing. I believe there's some goodness inside of you somewhere, buried beneath all your darkness," Christine muttered timidly.
Barty's eyes, which had held a glint of bitter amusement moments ago, now wavered with uncertainty. He seemed taken aback by Christine's words as if he hadn't expected anyone to see beyond his cruelty and allegiance to the Dark Lord.
A flicker of something unreadable briefly darted through the Death Eater's dark eyes and she heard him let out a frustrated exhale as he turned his ire towards the house-elves still cowering behind Christine's skirts. Barty pointed a stern finger at Winky and Kreela.
"Leave. Both of you and do not make me say it to you a second time," he commanded with a harshness that left no room for argument.
Winky and Kreela exchanged concerned looks, but they couldn't bring themselves to defy Winky's master's command. They bowed their heads and muttered apologies for lingering before swiftly departing the room. This left Christine alone with Barty, who still wore a visible mask of anger, though the complex emotions beneath that anger played out on the wizard's gaunt features.
For a brief moment, Barty seemed to grapple with his emotions before he finally broke the silence.
His tone, though still irritable, had softened somewhat as he shifted his gaze toward the steaming bowls of soup carefully arranged on the table.
"Christine," he murmured, his voice now more subdued. "Have dinner with me? Since our house-elves went to the trouble of making it already, it would be a shame to let all this go to waste?" He made a gesture toward the table, where the bowls of piping hot onion soup and neatly set place settings awaited them.
It was a striking change from the tense atmosphere that had filled the room just moments earlier.
Christine found herself hesitating for a moment, her gaze shifting nervously between Barty and the set table. Despite his earlier outburst, there was a sincerity in his invitation that piqued her curiosity.
After a thoughtful pause, Christine nodded slowly, her curiosity getting the better of her.
"Alright," she agreed, her voice steady but cautious.
With that, they both took their seats at the table, and Christine couldn't help but wonder what sharing a meal with the Death Eater now sitting across from her would entail. The complexities of her evolving relationship with the shattered and tormented Death Eater, Barty Crouch Jr., were becoming clearer with each passing moment.
The mystery surrounding his family and his own inner turmoil loomed large in her conflicted thoughts about him. She cast a curious glance at him, silently observing the wizard whose life was cloaked in secrets and shadows. Barty, though still visibly unsettled, began to ladle the soup into their bowls.
He took a deep breath as if bracing himself to broach a difficult topic. "My father," he began, his voice carrying a mix of emotions, "was a respected and influential figure in the Ministry." Barty's gaze fell as he handed Christine her bowl of soup, and she accepted it without a word, offering a nod of gratitude. Only when she nodded did Barty continue, although he seemed haunted for a moment. "I was... deeply influenced by my father," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I joined the Death Eaters and blindly followed their ideology, until..." His words trailed off as if he couldn't bring himself to say more in his current company.
Christine sensed the weight of his unspoken history and decided to tread carefully.
"Until what, Barty?" she asked softly, hoping he would open up to her.
Barty looked up at her then, his dark eyes filled with a complex blend of remorse and regret.
"Until I realized the darkness I had embraced, how proficient I had become at it, and how much my father detested it," he snarled bitterly. "When he discovered I had aligned myself with the Dark Lord, the bastard disowned me and sent his own son to prison."
Christine listened intently as Barty's words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his painful past. She could see the torment etched into the lines of his face and the haunted look in his eyes.
A somber silence settled between them, broken only by the occasional slurping of soup.
Christine wanted to tread carefully in this delicate conversation, knowing that Barty was sharing something deeply personal. She waited patiently, her expression sympathetic, encouraging him to continue if he wished.
Barty seemed to gather his thoughts, his gaze fixed on the swirling patterns in his soup.
It was a moment before he spoke.
"Christine, darling, you have no idea of the power and glory that awaits both of us now that the Dark Lord is returned to his fullest glory, and because of me," he growled through gritted teeth. "You too, will come to see the truth, in time, to understand My Lord's vision for our world, our future. I will make sure of it, Luv. Both of us will want for nothing."
Christine stared at Barty, disbelief and fear welling up inside her. She wanted to believe that the man whose life she had saved could be reformed, that he could change, but the way he continued to speak of his unwavering belief in Lord Voldemort's cause, it was clear he had not changed, and she was beginning to wonder if he had the capacity or desire to do so. She parted her lips as if to speak to him, however, no sounds immediately came forth as it took her a moment to find control of her voice again.
"Barty, you…you can't be serious," Christine whispered, her voice trembling. "How can you possibly believe in Voldemort after everything he's done? After all the things you've done for him and in his name?" she demanded in awe.
Barty's eyes glinted with a dangerous intensity as he leaned forward in his chair, closer to her, his voice low and chilling as the wizard spoke.
Christine reeled back in her chair, shocked, her heart pounding. She had to get away from him, find help.
But Barty, sensing her intentions, reached for his wand and pointed it at the door, and gave his wrist a sharp flick, locking the doors to his dining room.
Christine was dismayed to see a faint blue aura that now surrounded the outside of the manor before the aura dissipated. She knew without even having to ask that he had just cast a series of protective enchantments around his home that would prevent her from fleeing the property by trying to Disapparate or Floo home.
"You won't be escaping, Christine, my dear," he growled, a sinister smile curling his lips. "The Dark Lord appointed you to me to protect, and I am a man of my word. I can protect you best here, and Winky will ensure you want nothing. I won't let anyone harm you, not until you see the light."
Christine weighed her options carefully, knowing that her words might be her only defense in this perilous situation. She continued to engage Barty in conversation, hoping to uncover any hints of remorse or doubt in the Death Eater's convictions.
"I won't try to leave," she answered in a steady voice though she could tell he did not believe her. She continued, trying to keep her voice as level-headed as possible. "Barty, I've heard stories of the atrocities committed in the Dark Lord's name," she began, her voice soft but firm. "The pain and suffering inflicted upon innocent people. Can you honestly tell me that you're comfortable with all that?" she asked.
Barty's expression tightened but he didn't look away. "It's a necessary evil, Christine. Sometimes the greater good requires difficult choices. Lord Voldemort understands that."
"But there's always a choice," Christine countered softly, her dark eyes pleading with him to understand her point of view. "And there are so much better ways to bring out change, to make the wizarding world a better place for everyone, without causing so much pain and destruction."
Barty's brow furrowed, and for a moment, doubt flickered in his eyes. But he quickly shook it off, and her heart sank at the wizard's next words.
"You'll see, Christine, darling. Once you witness the power of Voldemort's magic, once you're part of something greater, you'll understand. You'll be proud to serve him. Lord Voldemort's vision, his plan to reshape the wizarding world, it's for the purebloods, to reestablish our rightful place in polite society. It may seem harsh, Christine, but it's necessary," he said, his words spoken with conviction.
Christine's disbelief and revulsion were palpable.
"Necessary?" she stammered. "Barty, it's madness! Innocent people have died because of these beliefs! Children have been orphaned, families torn apart!"
Barty's voice remained eerily calm.
"The path to greatness is never easy, Christine. Sacrifices are inevitable. But once you see the power the Dark Lord wields, and the order we can bring to the world, you'll understand."
Christine knew she had to tread carefully. She couldn't afford to antagonize Barty further. Fear gnawed at Christine's resolve, chipping it away into nearly nothing.
She knew she was trapped, with no means of escape. It was a desperate situation, and she had to make a difficult decision.
"Alright, Barty," she said, her voice shaky but determined. "If you truly believe in this cause of the Dark Lord's, and you say you want to protect me, then help me. Help me understand your perspective. But promise me that you won't harm innocent people, that you won't let Voldemort's darkness consume you completely. Please."
Barty regarded her for a long moment, and Christine caught a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, a trace of the good man he might once have been, or so the stories she had heard of him went. Then, he nodded slowly, and the Death Eater's smile widened, a mix of satisfaction and triumph sparking to life in his eyes.
"Very well, Christine. I'll help you see the truth, and I will protect you. I'll teach you, and we'll do what we can to minimize the harm. But the path we tread is perilous and you must be prepared for anything to happen, and the consequences that should follow. Together, you and I shall serve the Dark Lord."
Christine's heart ached for the man who had been lost to the darkness, and she couldn't help but hope that her influence might eventually lead him into the light.
In the meantime, she had taken a dangerous step, aligning herself with a firm believer in Lord Voldemort's cause.
But she knew that she needed to learn from the inside to ultimately understand and combat the evil that now threatened the entirety of the wizarding world.
Christine stirred her untouched onion soup, her gaze fixed on the intricate patterns etched into the silverware. She couldn't help but wonder if her influence could eventually change him. Lost in her thoughts, she mumbled to Barty and rose to excuse herself from the table and head towards her room. But before she could make her exit, Barty's voice, now turned cold and filled with a strange intensity, stopped her in her tracks just as she had taken a step forward towards the oak doors.
"Christine," he muttered, his voice harboring a strange hint of longing and to hear it caused her to turn slowly.
As she met his gaze, his dark eyes bore into hers with a piercing intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. She hesitated, caught off guard by his sudden request that she lingers here.
"What is it?" she asked cautiously.
The wizard's lips twisted into a mocking smile, and he rose from his chair and took a step closer to her.
"Tell me, Christine," he said, his voice now a low hiss, almost a rasp. "Do you…do you believe in love?" he asked.
Christine was taken aback by the unexpected question.
"Love?" she stammered. "Y-yes, of course, I believe in love," she blurted out, wondering where the man was going with this.
Barty's anger flared, his eyes narrowing.
"Don't," he hissed, his voice filled with venom. "Don't believe in it, Christine. We have a saying in our ranks. That love is the death of a Death Eater's duty. I don't have it, and neither should you. It's stupid and it does not exist." With that, he turned and abruptly strode forward and swiftly left the dining room, leaving Christine bewildered in Barty Crouch Jr.'s wake.
Now alone in his father's former study, Barty stared down at his hands which had turned clammy and begun to shake, something he hadn't anticipated as he filled his hands with the image of the beautiful brunette's face.
He thought he could be perfectly happy if Christine Lestrange was looking at him and him alone but then Barty began to question if there was another wizard in her life who held her heart. His heart lurched as he knew that he needed information on his new partner.
He needed to know where Christine Lestrange was at all times, who she was meeting, what she was saying, and how she was spending her free time here in his home over the next few days until the Dark Lord called for them both as he had said he would.
Lord Voldemort had plans for Christine, and he needed to ensure Christine was fully prepared for the demonstration of her power as a shadow walker. As he pondered his next steps and what they should be, Barty knew there was perhaps one soul who could help him gather this crucial information and not arouse suspicion from Christine in the slightest.
Winky. He needed to give his devoted house-elf a task, a mission to keep a close watch on Christine at all times.
With determination in his eyes, Barty called Winky to his side, knowing that the fate of both Christine and the wizarding world rested on the knowledge that he would soon acquire.
