Barty Crouch was dead, to begin with. There was no doubt about it. After all was said and done at the third task of the triwizard tournament, it became clear that Barty Crouch senior was dead as a doornail, and that he'd been under the imperius curse for quite some time prior to his death.
Percy Weasley tried to forget this as he sat working at his desk. The humiliation of that revelation, the scrutiny of the people who'd expected him to notice such a thing, and the humiliation that followed at the hands of his family when he'd been promoted, were all things he wanted to forget. But it had been over a year since those humiliations, and people had short memories. Besides, now that you-know-who was at large people had other things to think about.
"Weasley," Minister Scrimgeour stuck his head inside Percy's office, "you are still able to accompany me to your family's house tomorrow, correct?"
"Yes sir."
"Excellent. I'm so sorry to make you work on Christmas, but it's critical that we learn what, if anything, Potter knows about Dumbledore."
"I understand how important this is, minister." Percy said. "I'm happy to help." He also had nothing else going on on Christmas day, but that wasn't something the minister needed to know.
"Thank you, Weasley. I know I can always count on you."
Percy puffed himself up with pride. "I'm glad to hear it, minister."
Scrimgeour glanced at his watch. "I know it's only four o'clock, but it's Christmas Eve, so you can get out of here now if you want. I'm so sorry to keep everyone working right up until Christmas, but with times like these—"
"It's perfectly all right, minister." Percy said. "I understand, and I'm trying to do as much as I can to lighten your load. I'll probably be here a little bit longer just finishing up a few things."
"All right." Scrimgeour said. "But don't stay too long; it's Christmas Eve." He nodded, pulled on his traveling cloak, and stepped out.
Percy had been lying. He didn't intent to only stay for a little bit; he intended to stay for a couple of hours. In the early days of his ministry employment his father would come find him at the end of every workday, nag him for twenty minutes about leaving, then finally drag him out of the building around six. Of course, Percy had managed to circumvent this by bringing work home. Nowadays he stayed as late as he wanted.
It was about nine o'clock when he finally left the office, his briefcase crammed with papers and tucked under his arm. His heart started to race as he went back to his flat; now that work was over he had no distractions from the impending meeting with his family. He wasn't anticipating it to go well for two reasons. One, his new Christmas jumper had arrived that morning and was spread across the table. It was navy blue and white this year, and he wondered if his mum had specifically chosen those colors to match his ministry robes. He'd be sending it back, again, and if it arrived before he did he knew the whole family would be at his throat. Then there was also the thought that he'd be alone with his family in the kitchen while Scrimgeour talked with Harry—and who kew how long that would take.
"Ugh." Percy tossed his briefcase on the table and prepared a package of instant noodles. He was a horrible, horrible cook and subsisted primarily on instant noodles, frozen food, takeout, and coffee. He did sometimes miss his mum's cooking, but his body had adjusted.
When the noodles were ready, he slumped into a chair and picked up the muggle newspaper that had been lying on the table. As if he didn't have enough doom and gloom in his regular life, he kept up with muggle newspapers to keep himself informed.
As Percy read, he heard a thud downstairs. He rolled his eyes and kept reading, sure it was his downstairs neighbors back to practicing their godawful band. What was that music, anyway? Ska? Scraw? Percy shrugged and went back to the newspaper. But the bangs and clangs didn't stop. Percy scowled and threw the newspaper down, about to go downstairs and give the neighbors a piece of his mind when the thuds and bangs cascaded up through the floor and a shimmering grey ghost appeared before him.
Percy gasped. "Mr. Crouch?"
"Oh, so you do recognize me." Mr. Crouch spread his hands, which Percy realized were bound by thick chains. He was formed from shimmering mist, much like the Hogwarst ghosts, but from a darker shade of grey. There was something more foreboding, more sinister about this ghost. "In life I was your boss, Barty Crouch."
"How do I know you're really here?"
"Weasley, do you doubt your senses that much?"
Percy's eyes narrowed. "The real Mr. Crouch would've called me Weatherby. Besides, I'm sleep deprived and I live off instant noodles and coffee. Who knows what state my brain is in right now?"
"But you know that ghosts exist." Crouch said. "You've seen them at Hogwarts. So, by that logic, I am real and I am here."
"I guess that makes sense." Percy muttered. "But why are you here? And why are you chained?"
"It is required of every man that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow man, and if it does not do so in life, it is condemned to do so after death. We are all required to do good for our fellow man in life, and if we do not, our souls return after death to witness the problems we could have fixed, but did not."
"You're not making a lot of sense." Percy muttered.
"I was a short-sighted, unkind man in life!" Crouch wailed. "I spent countless hours at work, away from my son, and look how he turned out! If I had been a more present father then my son might not have turned to the dark side! I wasn't there with my wife when she died because of where our deeds led us. My family wouldn't have been torn apart like that, had I only made better choices." He yanked at the chains on his wrists. "I forged this chain in life. Every hour I should have spent with my son, every slimy thing I did to get ahead, every lie I told to protect my family's reputation, it all formed links on this chain that binds me now!" He looked shrewdly at Percy. "You are young, so young. But when I look at you, I see the beginnings of your own chain beginning to form. You skipped out on precious time with your family to work, and I'm ashamed to say I pushed you towards it. Your actions have begun to tear apart your family."
Percy looked down, half expecting to see a chain snaking across his lap, but there was nothing there. "So what would you have me do? Please, speak comfort to me, spirit."
"I am here to warn you and to give you a way of escaping a fate like mine, before your chain gets too long. You will be visited by three spirits tonight. Expect the first one when the bell tolls one!"
"You mean at one o'clock?"
"At one." Mr. Crouch said.
"But who are these ghosts? What are they going to do?"
"One o'clock!" Crouch said. His form was beginning to fade. "My time grows short. Please, remember what I told you!" And with that he faded away entirely.
"Huh." Percy stood up and began tidying up the kitchen. "Mr. Crouch in chains, begging me to change my ways. Mr. Crouch getting my name right! That's how I know this was all a big hallucination. I have got to start getting more sleep." He frowned at the Christmas jumper on the table. "And I'll mail that tomorrow. To bed for now." He turned off the lights in the kitchen and went into the bedroom. As he crawled into bed he muttered, "Three ghosts. What a load of nonsense!"