THE Crouch family manor, hidden away from prying eyes, was an imposing structure of dark stone and twisting ivy. As the evening sun the following day began its descent, casting long shadows across the grounds, Christine took a solitary walk in the gardens that were being kept and maintained by Winky to the best of the house-elf's abilities.
It was a rare moment of respite from Barty's ever-watchful eye though she had admittedly not seen the man since breakfast this morning and only fleeting.
Along the meandering stone pathway, Christine Lestrange wandered, her steps as aimless as her thoughts were tumultuous. Last night's conversation with Barty lingered heavily, casting a shadow on her mind. This morning's breakfast had been tainted by his unusual aloofness, a veil of secrecy in the depths of the Death Eater's eyes that left her uneasy.
He had scarcely remained at the table, revealing only that the Dark Lord had summoned him alone, promising his return by late afternoon at the latest. He had granted her the freedom to explore the manor, under the condition that she avoid the cellar and the far end room on the second floor – his private sanctums, he'd emphasized, a mark of his guarded nature.
Before his departure, he had dropped a chilling reminder that the Dark Lord, accompanied by a select few, would visit the manor. They intended to witness her prowess as the Dire Woman, the elusive shadow walker she embodied. It was made clear that she must perform spectacularly if she valued her life.
Stepping outside into the garden offered respite from the stifling atmosphere within the manor. An irresistible need for fresh air had driven her, a longing to escape the sensation of her own skin constricting.
Yet, despite the fragrance of blooms meticulously attended by Barty's diligent house-elf, her thoughts remained distant, ensnared in contemplation.
One question gnawed at her consciousness, refusing to relent – a question she couldn't shake no matter how hard she tried. How could she ever broach the topic of loyalty with Barty once more?
His enigmatic nature was as profound as his allegiance to the Dark Lord. A loyalty that had exacted its toll, tearing apart his family and propelling him into the depths of Azkaban for his role in the torment inflicted upon Auror Frank Longbottom and his wife, Alice. Yet, here he stood, free once more, his devotion to his master unwavering.
Did a shred of doubt exist within him? Christine couldn't help but ponder if any force could sway him from the inexorable path he had chosen. Even Barty Crouch Sr.'s portrait, as it had remarked the previous night, had echoed this sentiment – his son's commitment was a force as unyielding as the darkest magic.
Her thoughts swirled like the leaves rustled by the unseen winds.
Lost in the labyrinth of her thoughts, Christine remained oblivious to the approaching footsteps until an unfamiliar voice rang out, a sudden shock jolting her senses awake.
"It's quite a sight, isn't it? It must have been beautiful some time ago, this place," a witch's voice chimed in, emerging from the depths of the garden, just to Christine's right.
Startled, Christine swiftly turned, her hand instinctively reaching for the wand she kept securely nestled in her belt, ready to protect herself if necessity dictated, though she fervently hoped it wouldn't come to that.
Her eyes settled upon a witch several years her junior, an anomaly in these shadowy times. Strands of mousy brown hair framed her face, a far lighter shade than Christine's inky tresses, and her eyes, colorless and grey, gleamed with earnest curiosity. Her countenance possessed an undeniable allure, yet harbored an air of clandestine scrutiny. Clad in an ill-fitted black dress and sturdy dragonhide boots, the stranger remained an enigma to Christine.
Christine offered no immediate response, her mind racing to decipher the identity of this unexpected intruder and how they had managed to infiltrate Barty's meticulously warded property undetected. She briefly toyed with the notion that the witch might be Bellatrix, her cousin's infamous spouse, but the stranger's politeness and youth contradicted that notion.
Before she could delve further into her musings, the unfamiliar witch spoke once more.
"Looks like this place must've been beautiful, once, in a different life," the stranger remarked.
Christine found herself responding almost involuntarily. "No. I don't think it ever was beautiful, I think it was always this ugly," she declared, her gaze drifting back to the distant Crouch family manor. "But...a person's perspective can always change when you see worse. And then you go back to what you once thought was unattractive and find them the most beautiful thing."
A soft exhalation, which Christine presumed was laughter, escaped the lips of the stranger. Christine, unimpressed by the intrusion into her solitude, harbored a growing impatience. She yearned for her privacy to remain undisturbed, at least until Barty's return.
The witch's laughter did little to ease Christine's initial skepticism and impatience. She had no interest in engaging in idle conversation with a witch who, by all accounts, remained a stranger to her, especially not within the confines of Barty's residence.
Her eyes remained fixed on the witch, her gaze lingering, as she sought to decipher any concealed motives or potential threats lurking behind the veneer of politeness. The young witch, undaunted by Christine's guarded demeanor, dared to take a step closer.
"I'm sorry if I startled you," she purred, her tone walking the delicate line between contrition and audacity. "The stories I've heard about this place... they were something else entirely. I couldn't resist the temptation to explore it for myself. I didn't expect to encounter anyone out here."
Christine's suspicion deepened as she contemplated the words she had heard earlier. The Crouch family manor had never been a magnet for curiosity seekers, at least according to what Winky had told her this morning. Christine had stopped the diminutive house-elf shortly after she and Kreela had delivered her breakfast, just after Barty had departed. She had inquired if they should be concerned about potential intruders.
At the time, Winky had regarded her with an incredulous expression, as if Christine had asked the most absurd question imaginable. Perhaps she had, but Winky, bound by her duty to answer, had replied that there was no reason to worry. Barty's residence had transformed into a bastion of secrecy and shadows, a stronghold for the Dark Lord's most devoted followers. Now, Christine owed the witch an answer, and after a brief moment of hesitation, she found her voice.
"Exploring?" Christine responded, making a conscious effort to maintain a composed tone, despite the growing unease that threatened to seep into her voice.
She swallowed hard, attempting to dislodge the lump that had formed in her throat.
She silently prayed that this witch hadn't detected the mounting apprehension that accompanied their prolonged conversation in this secluded spot.
The prospect of Barty returning and discovering her alone with this mysterious witch, whose name she still didn't know, filled Christine with a sense of dread. It would jeopardize both of them, but especially this unidentified witch. An unsettling vision of Barty swiftly dealing with her as a trespasser haunted her thoughts, sending a shiver down her spine.
She vehemently shook her head, trying to dispel the disturbing image from her mind. She couldn't bear the thought of anyone else meeting such a fate.
With newfound determination, she lifted her gaze to meet the other witch's eyes.
"This is private property, not a place for casual exploration," Christine firmly declared.
"There are reasons why it's best left undisturbed," Christine cautioned once more, her voice carrying a stern warning.
However, the stranger met her intense gaze with unyielding resolve, her grey eyes still shimmering with unsettling curiosity.
"You're here," the witch retorted critically, her voice tinged with annoyance. She took another step backward, her black dress seamlessly blending into the fading twilight, leaving only the impression of her form as she continued to scrutinize Christine with a mixture of curiosity and irritation.
Christine's jaw tightened as a flinch traversed her frame. She sharply averted her gaze, a muscle in her jaw twitching as she closed her eyes momentarily. She willed her temper to abate before she resumed speaking to the persistent witch.
Resolute in her decision to withhold further information, Christine sustained her guarded stance.
"And you should not be," she declared, her tone unyielding as her gaze remained fixed on the stranger. "This place is best left undisturbed."
A trace of uncertainty flickered across the stranger's pale features as if a shadow had momentarily eclipsed her curiosity. "Why not? What secrets could this house carry that warrant such caution?" The inquiry emerged with newfound earnestness, the witch tilting her head to the side and focusing her colorless gaze on Christine, awaiting an explanation.
Christine hesitated, torn between the desire to protect this young witch from the perils of the Crouch family manor and the man that owned it and her own need to maintain the secrecy that shrouded it, as well as her presence here. The impending arrival of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters weighed heavily on her mind, and she couldn't help but wonder if this stranger's presence was connected in some way.
"It's not a matter of idle curiosity," Christine replied, her voice a measured blend of caution and cryptic warning. "Some secrets are better left untouched, for our safety. Leave. Go, before I make you and please don't make me say it again," she pleaded forcefully, her face twisting into an expression resembling grief as the slender fingers of her wand hand twitched as she kept her hand hovering over the handle, ready to draw and use it against this witch if need be.
The stranger seemed to consider Christine's words for a moment, her gaze flicking back to the distant Crouch family manor before she nodded in reluctant agreement.
"I guess…I should be going then," she conceded, clicking her tongue in disappointment as she spoke, her voice laced with a touch of resignation. "But…something brought me here tonight. Something I need to uncover for myself. Who knows, maybe it's you."
Christine watched, aghast, as the color drained from her face at the witch's enigmatic words. She could only stand there, transfixed, as the stranger turned on her heels and began to walk away. Inside, Christine's mind raced, desperately clamoring for something, anything, that would keep this mysterious figure here for just a moment longer.
Despite her lingering unease, there was an undeniable urge to unravel the enigma of this witch, to discover more about her.
"Wait!" Christine called out, her plea for the witch to halt escaping her lips before she had even fully formed the thought. It compelled her to take a step forward.
Slowly, the other witch twisted her neck to regard Christine, a faint, enigmatic smile tugging at the corners of her lips. At that moment, Christine realized she needed some connection with this witch who had somehow infiltrated Barty Crouch's property. Her intuition told her that there was more to this encounter than met the eye.
"My name is Christine. Christine Lestrange," she stammered, her voice trembling with a mix of trepidation and curiosity. "We... we haven't met before... have we?"
The stranger's penetrating grey eyes locked onto Christine's, the corners of her lips twitching in that ever-constant enigmatic smile that sent a shiver down Christine's spine. With a deliberate and thoughtful air, the witch seemed to weigh Christine's question, allowing a pregnant silence to stretch between them, making Christine increasingly uneasy.
Finally, the stranger broke the silence, her voice tinged with intrigue. She spoke with a quick, lowered-lash smile, "No, we haven't met before, not in the traditional sense." She repeated Christine's name, savoring it on her tongue. "Christine Lestrange."
Then, she hesitated, her voice trailing off as she appeared to grapple with her next words.
Her gaze bore into Christine's dark brown eyes, revealing a hint of concern. "You're not... related to...?" The question hung in the air, unspoken but palpable.
Christine's wry smile hinted at her anticipation of the inevitable question she knew was bound to come up the moment she spoke her surname.
"To Rodolphus and Bellatrix?" she finished for the stranger, already knowing where this line of questioning was headed. When the stranger nodded in confirmation, Christine sighed, her frustration evident. She tore her gaze away from the mysterious woman for a moment, looking out toward the meandering path in the manor's gardens.
"Sadly, yes," Christine admitted, her tone laden with a mix of resignation and discomfort. "Rodolphus is my cousin."
She couldn't deny the connection, no matter how estranged her relationship with her infamous relatives had become.
The stranger's grey eyes held an intensity, a hint of something unreadable behind her penetrating gaze as if she were weighing the significance of Christine's confession.
For a moment, the evening around them seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for whatever would come next. The witch broke the silence once more, her voice measured.
"Rodolphus and Bella…both of them Death Eaters, known for their devotion to the Dark Lord."
Christine nodded slowly, her gaze returning to the stranger.
"Yes, they are. It's a legacy that haunts our family," she snapped with a bark to her voice that made the stranger look at her in surprise.
An almost-faint smile touched the stranger's lips, a bittersweet expression. "I didn't mean to offend you, Christine. You don't seem like the others in your family. You seem…different. Not one of many."
Christine's eyes narrowed, sensing a deeper meaning behind the stranger's words.
"What are you trying to say?" Christine asked, her voice edged with caution.
The witch's gaze met Christine's once more, and there was a quiet intensity in her words.
"Only that sometimes…even the most loyal people are capable of changing. Loyalties can shift, given the right circumstances," the stranger murmured.
Christine was left utterly without words, her mind grappling with the profound implications of the stranger's words. In the serene confines of Barty Crouch Jr.'s manor garden, she had never anticipated engaging in such a conversation, especially as she awaited the man's return, fully aware that she might soon be displayed like a prized possession.
A lingering thought gnawed at her, pondering whether there was more to this encounter with the mysterious witch than immediately apparent. Detecting Christine's hesitance, the stranger responded with a warm and welcoming smile.
"You've told me your name, but I haven't said mine yet," the stranger revealed. "I'm Andromeda. It's been a pleasure to meet you, and for what it's worth, I'm glad you're not like them, like Bellatrix and Rodolphus." The witch pulled a face and crinkled her nose in disgust and shook her head to herself before returning her gaze to Christine in front of her.
Christine couldn't help but smile back at Andromeda, her heart warming to this newfound connection.
"I have to say…I'm glad I'm not like them too," Christine replied, her voice filled with a mix of gratitude and relief. "They can be…cruel."
Andromeda nodded in agreement, her expression solemn and sour. "It's a difficult world we live in, isn't it? These days, it seems like it's full of nothing but darkness and cruelty. No one can trust anyone, everyone's becoming paranoid. But…meeting someone like you gives me hope that maybe things aren't all bad."
Christine's eyes met Andromeda's, and in that shared gaze, the two witches found a shared understanding.
"Hope," Christine echoed softly, just the word sounding funny on her tongue. It was not a word she was accustomed to saying, much less allowing herself to feel the emotion. "I haven't felt that in too long. Thank you, Andromeda."
She could feel her eyes beginning to tear up as she flicked her gaze to Andromeda's whose grey eyes were warm and kind, and she was grateful that this time, they were tears of gratitude. She had found a friend in the most unexpected of places, and in Andromeda's presence, she felt a glimmer of hope for a better future.
Christine regarded the young witch, feeling the first stirrings of an affectionate connection blossoming within her chest.
In that poignant moment, the unassuming, mousy-haired witch appeared as a lifeline, a potential friend who might truly comprehend her inner turmoil. As Christine scrutinized Andromeda's countenance for any traces of deception or duplicity, she discovered none; instead, Andromeda's eyes reflected a blend of sympathy and curiosity.
"I can't help but notice that you seem lost in thought," Andromeda gently observed. "If you ever find yourself in need of someone to talk to while you're here, well, I'm a good listener."
Christine hesitated momentarily, caught between her inherent wariness and the budding yearning for a connection with a fellow witch of similar age. Her childhood had been marred by isolation due to her unique condition as a Dire Woman, denied the company of other children and the opportunity to form genuine, enduring friendships.
As she gazed into Andromeda's eyes, something in the younger woman's warmth and kindness rekindled a long-buried ember of longing within Christine.
Summoning her courage, she decided to take a chance, thinking that perhaps trying to befriend this witch was worth the risk.
"I appreciate that," Christine responded softly. "I've... been through a lot recently. It's just... everything around me has changed."
Andromeda nodded in understanding. "Change can be challenging, especially when it was never your choice to make right from the start."
Christine nodded, her decision made, her mind made up. She was on the brink of extending an invitation to Andromeda to come inside for a quick bite to eat and something to drink if she wanted it, a secret opportunity to bond with her further before sending her on her way.
The idea of having a genuine friend to share a moment with was an enticing prospect, one she hadn't encountered before, as Father had kept her away from everyone except himself, at any cost. But just as she parted her lips to offer the invitation, a distinct and jarring crack resounded through the air, unmistakably signaling the arrival of someone via Apparition.
The ensuing heavy footsteps approached swiftly, their sound slicing through the calm garden ambiance like an unwelcome intrusion.
A sinking feeling overcame her as she turned her gaze towards the source of disruption, her intuition already knowing the identity of the person who had appeared on the property.
Barty's return to the garden cast an ominous shadow over the budding connection between Christine and Andromeda. The air around them thickened with tension as he approached, his eyes assessing the situation with an acuity that left no detail unnoticed, the skin on his brow pulled taut with suspicion.
"Christine! What are you doing out here, and with... a friend," he inquired sharply, his voice tinged with a thinly veiled disapproval. His gaze swept over Andromeda's figure, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, and his lips curled with disdain. "You've made a new acquaintance, darling," he growled through clenched teeth, redirecting his gaze back to Christine.
His dark eyes bore into hers, awaiting an explanation for her presence outside with a stranger.
Christine, taken off guard by Barty's abrupt arrival, found herself gripped by a potent mix of apprehension, fear, and disappointment. She stole a nervous glance in Andromeda's direction, who, though offering a reassuring smile, couldn't disguise the fact that this unexpected turn of events had altered the dynamics of the moment dramatically.
Christine turned to Andromeda with a defensive determination. "Andromeda was just... keeping me company," she said, her voice quivering into a meekness that reminded her of her past when dealing with her father on particularly grim days.
Barty's expression darkened further, anger radiating from him as he confronted Christine. He displayed his agitation with a subtle tic, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. His voice grew sharp and demanding, cutting through the already suffocating atmosphere.
"How did this witch manage to find her way onto the grounds, Christine, Luv?" His tone was unforgiving, casting an even darker shadow over the tense situation.
Christine hesitated, torn between her pledged loyalty to Barty and her newly formed connection with Andromeda. She cleared her throat awkwardly, her nerves palpable as she spoke.
"I... I didn't invite her, Barty. She just... appeared here. I don't know how."
Barty's gaze bore into Christine, his suspicion deepening.
"Uninvited, Christine," he muttered darkly, his attention shifting briefly to Andromeda.
His mind was no doubt racing with questions and concerns about how this young witch had managed to bypass his protective spells and infiltrate his property.
The heavy tension in the air felt palpable, like an intricate spider's web that had been spun around them, ensnaring everyone in its delicate but potentially dangerous threads. Christine's conscience prodded her to provide answers that might ease the wizard's concerns, given the precariousness of her current situation. However, a strange connection had formed between her and Andromeda, an unspoken understanding that added to the complexity of the moment.
Barty's unwavering gaze remained fixed on Christine, but when Andromeda took a step forward, seemingly to defuse the mounting tension, his accusatory expression shifted, transforming into one of simmering anger at the sight of her intrusion.
Andromeda, however, met Barty's seething gaze with an eerie calm, her posture unwavering and composed.
"I didn't mean any harm, Mr. Crouch," she asserted, her voice retaining its steadiness and respect. "I only wanted to visit the home of the man I've heard so many stories about, to meet the Dark Lord's most devoted follower face to face, and to uncover the truth about the rumors that suggest it was you who outsmarted old Mad-Eye, the old mental bit. He's supposed to be as mad as a hatter these days, they say," she muttered, an odd expression flitting through her eyes that did not go unnoticed by Christine, but as fleeting as the strange look had come, it was gone as the witch continued speaking. "But I assure you, I have no intention of causing harm, especially not to your... partner."
She hesitated for a moment, her gaze flicking up to Barty and catching a subtle but revealing detail—a lingering fixation on Christine's pink lips.
The revelation of Barty's gaze did not go unnoticed by Christine. It added another layer of complexity to an already bewildering situation, leaving her to wonder about the true nature of the connection between herself, Barty, and this unexpected visitor.
The aftermath of Andromeda's explanation hung heavy in the air, a silence pregnant with tension, akin to a fragile truce swaying on the precipice of shattering. Christine couldn't escape the feeling that she was but a pawn in a high-stakes game, and her role in it remained uncertain.
Barty's furious gaze remained fixated on Andromeda, his anger simmering beneath a veneer of control, though Christine couldn't help but notice the tremor in his hands. She swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily upon her.
Finally, Barty spoke, his voice low and measured, carrying a sharp undercurrent of irritation that reverberated through the still night.
"I'd be well within my rights to slit your throat where you stand right here and now, witch, for trespassing," he cautioned Andromeda, his dark eyes narrowing as he addressed her. "But thanks to the witch you stand beside, I will let you live, for now. I'd rather not subject her to such a gruesome sight, and, surprisingly, I'm feeling merciful tonight. Leave, and do not force me to repeat myself. I really hate saying things to anyone a second time, and if you ever set foot on this property again, my leniency won't extend a second time."
The severity of Barty's warning hung in the air like a heavy cloud, a palpable reminder of the perilous territory they had ventured into.
Andromeda, understanding the weight of the situation, nodded solemnly before slowly turning and disappearing into the darkness, leaving Christine alone with her thoughts and the enigmatic events that had just unfolded.
Barty's attention turned back to Christine, his anger abating somewhat as he seemed to remember her presence in that charged moment.
"We'll address this later, Christine. I'm too tired to talk about this now," his voice softer but no less authoritative. "For the moment, go back inside. The Dark Lord and a select few have called for you. They're waiting for you in the dining room. They want to witness a demonstration of your... abilities. And as for you," his gaze shifted back to Andromeda, his tone growing more venomous, "I advise you to leave this place at once before your curiosity leads you into deeper waters. You're fortunate to draw breath, only due to my partner's aversion to violence," he hissed at her softly.
Andromeda hesitated momentarily, her gaze fixed on Christine, before she too made her way toward the night's obscurity, heading in the direction of the woods that bordered the Crouch family manor.
As Christine watched Andromeda's retreating figure, she couldn't help but ponder the secrets awakened by this unexpected encounter and the decisions she would soon have to make. Her heart raced at the thought of unveiling her abilities in front of the Dark Lord himself and the select few Death Eaters he had brought to Barty's home to witness her powers firsthand. She turned to Barty.
"Thank you, Barty," she whispered, struggling to convey the depth of her gratitude for sparing Andromeda's life.
Her gratitude quickly soured into frustration as Barty remained silent, his gaze unwavering. She let out an exasperated sigh and turned to leave.
Almost at the garden's edge, she halted abruptly and turned on her heel. "It's common courtesy to respond with 'You're welcome, Christine.' That's the proper way to acknowledge gratitude," she retorted, her own audacity surprising her. She winced at Barty's reply.
"I'll give a proper response, Christine, darling, when you offer a proper thanks," he rasped, causing a flush of embarrassment to color Christine's cheeks.
"I already thanked you, Barty, in a polite manner. If that's not enough—"
"How would Narcissa thank Lucius, Christine, or Bellatrix thank Rodolphus, I wonder, darling?" Barty mused. "Relax, Christine. I don't require a kiss or affection from you. I simply want you to remember what I am. If you don't wish to thank me as a witch thanks her wizard, then stop pretending I'm a good man deserving of your affection. I know my true nature, and it's far from that of a good man, but...if you want to treat me like a good man, then...thank me."
Christine felt the color drain from her face as she fell silent, uncertain of how to respond. She maintained unyielding eye contact with her protector, her mouth set in a firm line. A surge of defiant anger coursed through her, propelling her feet toward him. Barty's expression and eyes betrayed nothing of the Death Eater's thoughts, but when she stood before him and placed her hands on his shoulders, she sensed his tension beneath her gentle touch.
She rose onto her tiptoes and completed the gesture, planting a chaste and tender kiss on Barty's cheek. Her body trembled slightly, but she reminded herself that as long as his master required her abilities, she didn't believe he would harm her.
When she withdrew her lips from his cheek, she locked eyes with him, Barty's face still close to hers.
"Now, will you give me my welcome, Barty?" Christine asked firmly, and Barty offered a half-smile.
Barty's half-smile deepened, and a glint of something more complex than mere amusement flickered in the wizard's hot dark eyes. He took a step closer, closing the gap of space between them, until their breaths mingled in the cool evening air.
"Oh, Christine," he murmured, his voice a low, husky whisper. "You seem to be always finding a way to surprise me," he muttered, his voice low and hoarse.
Christine's heart raced, caught between uncertainty and a growing awareness of the electricity in the air. Her defiance had given way to a new, unfamiliar sensation—desire. She did not know whether to be horrified by this revelation or disgusted with herself for feeling it in the first place, but Christine was left with no time to ponder it as Barty's hand moved to gently cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin with an almost hypnotic tenderness.
"You are a rare gem in this dark world, Christine," he said, his voice sounding soft and almost, dare she think it, intimate. "A flicker of light in the shadows."
Christine swallowed hard, her resolve to keep her distance from this man now faltering as she found herself inexplicably drawn closer to this enigmatic wizard who existed in the blurry boundary between darkness and something more.
His lips hovered inches from hers, and she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin that sent a shiver down her spine to feel it.
In that suspended moment, she made a choice. She leaned in, closing the remaining distance between them, and their lips met in a searing kiss that sent sparks of electricity coursing through both of them. It was a kiss filled with a hunger born of desperation and longing, a kiss that defied the boundaries of their world. As they finally pulled away, their breaths ragged and hearts pounding, Barty looked into Christine's eyes with a mixture of desire and vulnerability.
"You've given me a welcome, Christine," he whispered. "And perhaps, in our world, that's all the thanks I will ever need."
Christine nodded mutely, her own emotions a swirling mix of confusion and desire. She knew that this kiss she had given him had opened a door to a world of uncertainty and danger, but at that moment, she couldn't bring herself to care. Barty had sworn to his master to protect her, and she had made her choice, and there was no turning back.
She nodded silently, communicating to Barty without the need to speak that she was ready to go inside.
Together, they walked back towards the Crouch manor, back into the darkness, two souls intertwined in a dance of shadows and secrets, bound in a kiss that had ignited a spark of something they both thought was impossible for them to have long ago.
"We're needed inside," Barty rasped after a moment, begrudgingly breaking the peaceful silence that now lingered between them, and she turned to depart, only to be halted by his hand wrapping around her arm. "Allow me to take you back inside you from here. Among the Dark Lord's ranks, especially the men, I'd rather they not assume you're free for the taking," he snapped, his anger evident.
Christine stared, taken aback by Barty's sudden possessiveness of her, a stark reminder of the world she was now entangled in. But for now, she conceded, fully aware that in this realm, every action and word had weight. She did not like to think what the punishment would be if she rejected him, so, she reluctantly accepted the offer of Barty's outstretched arm and allowed Barty to lead her inside, her steps matching his.
However, before she left, she couldn't resist glancing over her head to steal one last look at Andromeda, who still lingered at the edge of the woods, watching the two of them go. Their eyes met briefly, and in that silent exchange, and in that silent exchange, Christine tried to convey to her new acquaintance a warning she hoped was as clear as daylight.
To be careful and even stay away.
Barty, noticing Christine's worried glance and the unspoken communication between the two witches, tightened his grip even more on her arm.
He leaned in closer, whispering, "Remember who you belong to, Christine, darling," he hissed through clenched teeth.
Christine nodded numbly, not daring to look up at him, though she felt the burn of the Death Eater's gaze, burning a hole through her skull. As they moved further away, Christine's mind raced with thoughts of the secrets, alliances, and dangers that lurked beneath the surface of this dark world she was reluctantly becoming a part of.
As Christine allowed herself to be led inside by Barty, where the Dark Lord and his followers awaited, an unsettling unease gripped her.
She couldn't shake the foreboding sense of what was to come. Barty, sensing Christine's apprehension, surprised her with a gentle kiss on her temple. He whispered reassuringly, "Don't worry, Christine. You're safe with me." Leading her into the imposing manor, the dimly lit entrance enveloped them in shadows.
Barty closed the door behind them without a backward glance.
In the woods, Andromeda observed the scene with growing curiosity. Her appearance slowly shifted, transforming her into a witch with short, spiky bubblegum-pink hair and taller stature.
Unbeknownst to Christine Lestrange, Andromeda's true identity was Auror Nymphadora Tonks, sent by her mentor Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody to track Christine after they had received an urgent Patronus message from the witch's neighbor, an old woman named Mrs. Kittredge. Mrs. Kittredge made a shocking discovery inside Christine's home: the lifeless body of a Healer from St. Mungo's lay there, while Christine was nowhere to be found.
Filled with dread for Christine's well-being, Mrs. Kittredge's mind raced with suspicion. She had arrived with a casserole as a token of gratitude for Christine's assistance in tending her garden when arthritis had made it impossible for her to continue.
However, her concern deepened when Christine failed to answer the door or respond to her calls. Fearful that something sinister had taken place, Mrs. Kittredge swiftly reached for her wand and sent an urgent Patronus to the Ministry of Magic, her trembling hands that could barely hold her wand straight betraying the urgency of the situation.
Tonks had been dispatched by Moody to investigate.
It had taken her several days to trace the witch's current location, painstakingly following the remnants of magical traces left behind by Disapparation. These traces had led her straight to the eerie location where the Death Eater had spirited Christine Lestrange away from her home.
His home, she mused with a shiver, the thought sending a jolt through her shoulders.
As she observed the escaped Death Eater escort the timid witch inside his manor, Tonks couldn't help but dwell on the deep grudge Moody harbored against Barty Crouch Jr.
Moody had not only instructed her to go but had practically demanded it, his urgency driven by both righteous fury and his own painful experiences. He was still recovering in a St. Mungo's bed, nursing both physical and emotional wounds inflicted by Barty's twisted machinations. Her mentor had been outwitted in his own home, kidnapped, with bits and pieces of his identity stolen. Barty had imprisoned him in a trunk and assumed Moody's identity to infiltrate Hogwarts, subjecting the retired Auror to nearly a year of near-starvation and brutal torture. The memory of that humiliation fueled Moody's unwavering determination to see Barty brought to justice, regardless of the cost.
Tonks was eager to assist him in any way she could. The assignment had grown more complex and perilous now that she had witnessed firsthand the disturbing obsession Barty Crouch Jr. had for Christine Lestrange. The stakes had never been higher. Tonks knew she had to proceed with utmost caution.
Moody would never admit it aloud, but he had been broken by Barty's sadistic games and was determined to see him pay for the torment he had endured. Tonks shared that determination, not just as Moody's protégé but as a dedicated Auror committed to justice.
The manor's imposing facade loomed ahead as Tonks continued to observe from her concealed vantage point in the woods. The night grew darker, and a palpable chill hung in the air, mirroring the icy unease in her stomach.
She was grateful to have tracked Christine Lestrange to this ominous place and found the witch alive and seemingly unharmed. It was now evident that Barty was far more deeply entangled with her than she and Moody had initially suspected when they learned he was responsible for her disappearance.
Tonks pivoted on her heels and waved her wand to conjure a Patronus, using it to send a report to Moody.
Her voice was hushed but resolute as she relayed the events she had witnessed and the palpable tension that surrounded the Death Eater's relationship with Christine Lestrange.
Moody's voice crackled as he responded, his voice hoarse and filled with a potent mix of anger and determination.
His words bit like a snarl, resonating with the past year of simmering anger he held for Barty Crouch Jr.
"Stay on this, Tonks, now that you've found her. Constant vigilance. That bastard slipped through our fingers twice. We can't let that wretched snake slither away into his nest again. Gather every shred of evidence, tie him to the Lestrange witch, and get closer to her if you can. Befriend the witch, and earn her trust enough to let you get closer. If we're to save the Lestrange witch and put an end to Crouch's sadistic spree, we'll need to unravel this knot completely. He's heading back to his cell in Azkaban—mark my words, Tonks—before this year is out. By Christmas," he vowed with a fierce determination, his tone vibrating with a raw, resolute edge.
Tonks nodded with unwavering determination, her heart resonating with Moody's fervor. Memories of her encounter with Christine Lestrange flashed through her mind. She couldn't help but reflect on the stark contrast between Christine's kind and gentle nature and the dark reputation of her family.
The thought of what harm might befall her if she remained trapped in Crouch's clutches, with the watchful eye of the Death Eater upon her every move, sent a shiver down her spine.
With her mentor's words echoing in her ears, Tonks settled in for a long and sleepless night of surveillance.
The mission had grown even more treacherous than she had anticipated, but she knew that bringing Barty Crouch Jr. to justice was a cause worth any risk.
