Unlike one Hermione Granger, Madeline Crouch was not in the pressure of being a bridge between two vastly different worlds. Therefore, sitting in one of Hogwarts Express' compartments with her two Hufflepuff friends, Madeline Crouch had no reason to appear all-knowing to make other people accept her.
With these thoughts in mind, she had to admit that there was something highly entertaining when she watched her friends trying to explain muggle's movies to a pureblood bred witch who was raised without any contact to the muggle world.
"So... it's a picture," she nodded in conviction, her words a liberal summary of her friend's explanation from the past hour.
Bethany whimpered.
"It is most certainly not! Urgh, how do we explain this?"
Madeline kept her face in a state of innocent confusion as her friend frustratedly ran fingers through her straight brown hair for the umpteenth time in a short period of time.
Amanda, sitting at her side, was huffing at the window at Madeline's words. The other girl, Madeline knew, had been pretending that she was not in fact, listening to the conversation in vexation for the past fifteen minutes. She claimed that she had given up after Madeline kept missing the point she made about how movies were made, which was, understandable.
But who could blame an honest to god pureblood girl for mistaking that the actors needed to be dead or killed before the pictures could move? Such was the mechanic of audible portraits of real people, after all.
Madeline had to bite her lips to prevent a smile that was triggered by the memory. Even after that, Amanda hadn't given up quite yet - until Madeline made a comment on how noble those actors' deaths were for preserving art with their sacrifice.
'No wonder there were fans who worship those actors,' she mused out loud then, almost making Amanda cry.
Bethany, however, did not give up that easily.
"Maddy, Maddy, hear me out," she tried again, the desperation in her words earned an earnest nod from Madeline. "Magical pictures - there isn't much in it besides a couple seconds of some actions. After those short seconds, the picture will repeat those actions indefinitely. Meanwhile movies, like novels, have stories in them. "
"Then it won't be a picture at all," she cut, eyebrows furrowing as if in deep thought. "Ah, I see. You are talking about children's books. They often have pictures in it. So muggle movies are children's books?"
Bethany's eyes shut closed slowly, painfully.
Maybe she should stop toying with them, Madeline thought amusedly. Amanda looked like she was counting numbers to rein her rage.
"Close," gritted Bethany, showing a remarkable job of staying patient. "But it's not just for children at all. And -"
It was apparently too much for the muggleborn among them.
"Close?!" Amanda cut her with a shriek, looking positively unhinged as she hollered at her halfblood friend. "How are they close, Bethany? Movies and children's books are two completely different things!"
Bethany scowled. "I was just getting to the part where movies aren't a book at all."
"Then why did you say it was close?!"
"I have to encourage her somehow!"
Madeline had to occlude to prevent a smile bursting out on her face. She was too deep in the joke now. There was no way she was going to confess to them that she knew about movies all along. Amanda would gut her.
"Purebloods!" The girl spat in defeat. "How can they not know of movies!"
Madeline bit her lip and haughtily lifted her chin. "I'll have you know we have our own portraits, pictures, and children's books."
Bethany's head was slumped then and there, her failure was too much for her to bear. Her other friend, though, refused to be depressed, choosing to give in to the rage instead.
"And there goes our time! Why did we even bother?"
Madeline hid her smile.
What a way to start the holiday.
.
The dinner the Crouches had tonight could, without a doubt, be called a feast. All the favorite dishes of Barty and her were present on their table, unmistakably served to celebrate their return from Hogwarts. Mother, sitting on Father's left, was practically glowing as she listened to Barty's stories of his Hogwarts days and Madeline could not hold back her smile during the whole dinner. Barty looked like he genuinely enjoyed his time, buoyant in his disposition throughout the night.
She was a bit surprised that the night went as pleasant as it did. Father's mere presence was usually an impediment for them to have a good time. But the man stayed silent during the whole meal, letting Barty talk their night away and filled their dinner with frivolous conversation.
"- then she conjured a flock of birds, colorful birds, and they flew around the room!" Barty eagerly shared the latest event, not without cleverly omitting some parts of it. "Everyone was completely awed! Conjuring one bird is already hard enough as it is, and she conjured a dozen of them!"
Mother, after swallowing another bit of her meal, hummed melodiously. "Our Maddy is very talented."
Madeline couldn't help but blush. 'Our Maddy,' Mother had called her. To be called theirs was a bit embarrassing… and the fact that it felt rather nice only made it even more embarrassing to her. She was a full-grown witch! Honestly!
"What do you think father?" Barty asked directly to his senior counterpart, pushing the man to look up from his meal. Their father hadn't said much during the whole dinner, so a direct question was indeed needed to trigger a response from the man.
Barty senior's answering reply was plain and short.
"It is impressive," the man said, and somehow, it successfully made Barty nod in satisfaction. Madeline, though, could only hope that Barty finally moved on and talked about anything beside her.
Thankfully, he did.
Unfortunately, he began to talk about Black and Lestrange, a pair of cool Slytherins in her year that gave him awesome advices.
Father hid it well, but she knew he was itching to forbid Barty from befriending those two boys. One hint of sinister advice, and the man would have the perfect excuse for it. Madeline had no doubt that Barty could hide any details that would resulted in that scenario. But if the man was desperate, Barty Senior could make up excuses as quickly as any Slytherin could... In honesty, Barty must have known this too, but her brother seemed like he didn't care.
Was it on purpose? To trigger Father's ire? He was done looking for attention from the man, so what was his reason she wondered?
In the end, whatever Barty's reason was, Madeline decided to intervene.
"Speaking of the classes' workload, how is your work, father?" She prompted, careful in her tone as she changed the subject. "I notice that the missing person news increases in frequency..."
Barty tilted his head curiously at her, but Madeline had her gaze glued to Barty Senior. She saw Mother stiffened at her choice of topic, but well...
Barty Senior could be a useful source for her future endeavors, so why not?
Each week, at least one person went missing. Everyone probably would have known His name by now, though none dared to utter it. Voldemort was, after all, proficient in his use of fear and uncertainties to shamble the very foundation of wizarding Britain, and no one was willing to acknowledge his covert effort, except maybe the Order of Phoenix…
There hadn't been any open fire, though.
Barty Senior scowled as he replied. "It would have been easier if they did not cut our department's budget again."
Ah, yes. The constant struggle of their ministry: Galleons allocation. Which pocket to deepen, which agenda worth pursuing. And it seemed that Voldemort's claws in the ministry were still going strong.
But she knew this already.
Onto the next matter. "And the dark artifact raid legislation proposal?
"Declined," replied the man, terse and bitter.
She blinked innocently. "Oh? And the proposal isn't to be revisited again?"
"It won't."
She knew this already too, Madeline thought frustratedly. Why couldn't the man elaborate so she might actually learn something useful?
"I'm not surprised," Barty hummed, thoughtfully chewing his meal before continuing, "Can't imagine it being popular among the old families."
Father's face was flushed red at the comment, and Madeline had to lower her head lest her bitter smile was seen. Even Barty, a literal eleven years old child, knew that the proposal wouldn't pass. Truly, why did the head of such a prominent ministry department waste their effort in such a pointless endeavor? This war was not a joke, so they really should stop clowning around.
Then again, the ministry hadn't even declared war against these missing people's perpetrators.
She frowned, remembering the history of her future.
Even in future books of modern history, the only thing mentioned that was close to a war declaration in the first wizarding war would be a couple of ministry statements that condemn the actions of the death eaters after the first dark mark sighting. The media never cared to mention Voldemort unless it was for fearmongering, what with their use of 'You know who' and other ridiculous names.
The media… should she start interfering with it? Raising awareness against Voldemort? But such effort would put a target on the media, as was the case with quibbler and the Lovegoods… Maybe Father's tactic with PR wasn't unreasonable at all. But then again, only reducing fear was not enough. People needed to know how to fight back, or at least, be safe from the death eaters…
"Speaking of old families, how is Elsie and Messie?"
Madeline blinked, her perfectly cut beef sat untouched in front of her as her sight focused. She relaxed her grip on her knife and fork before looking up to mother with practiced geniality. "They are well, Mother. I have been exchanging letters with them."
"Still managing the townhouse?"
"Of course," she replied cheerfully. "That reminds me. I need to visit them this holiday to reinforce the house's ward." The ward needs to be reinforced annually, after all. She turned to Barty with a knowing smirk "You should come with me."
Barty's eyes glinted in excitement.
"Sure!"
"No," came a stern voice.
The siblings simultaneously frowned.
They turned their head to the source. As usual, Barty senior was doing wonders to the general atmosphere of delight. He was glaring daggers at Madeline, not even being subtle about it. She really didn't know what his problem was.
"Pardon?" She asked, her confusion palpable.
Barty senior glared harder. "Don't act as if I don't know the type of wards they had there."
The words were spat, as if uttering them had burned the man's mouth. Madeline pursed her lips.
"There won't be dark rituals of any kind, Father," she said, patience in her tone. "Reinforcing the ward will only need - "
"A drop of blood, a couple of cites and our magic in the purest form," recited Barty passionately, his excitement for the opportunity to reinforce a highly complicated ward obvious to those around him.
Madeline smirked at her brother proudly. "5 points to Slytherin."
Her brother beamed.
Barty senior, however, was having none of it.
"Not dark, you said?" He demanded, his voice was lower than a yell but only just. "How is blood magic not dark?"
Irritation grew inside her and she turned her attention back to the man, sharp words ready in her throat to cut the man down.
As she opened her mouth though, she found herself closing it again in hesitation.
It was at that precise moment that she realised how Hermione Granger would readily agree with Barty senior. Never mind Hermione Granger, Madeline Crouch from a year ago wouldn't have gone anywhere near something that required blood in it, or at least she would read it but averse to actually practicing it…
Her eyebrows furrowed.
The past year had changed her, she realised then. But the question more important question was: is it for worse or for the better?
It was probably bad that she was desentized towards dark magic. Then again, she thought, why should she shy away from a little blood magic when she knew there was much worse magic out there? Unwillingly given ingredients in certain rituals and potions, for example. Or rituals with the aim to harm… Warding was a protective measure, really, and Grandmother's wards were only dark in retaliation, not dark for the sake of it…
Of course she said none of these things, allowing silence fell upon them and accidently giving Barty senior an appearance of compliance.
The man nodded assuredly in satisfaction.
"This is not up for discussion," he reiterated to both of his children. "The old townhouse will unfortunately still stand without anyone reinforcing the wards, so perish that intention from your mind. No child of mine shall dabble with the dark arts."
At the command, she and Barty exchanged a look, communicating with their eyes.
.
Both she and Barty had - of course - let their father's words fall into deaf ears, opting to visit the Blakeville house while Father was preoccupied with his work. They were currently sitting on a big black sofa in one corner of the library, in front of the blazing hearth to warm them in the cold morning, studying the wards their grandparents had in the old townhouse as it was required for the reinforcer of the wards to have deep understanding about the wards they were supposed to reinforce.
The wards in the old townhouse were undoubtedly complicated. Grandmother had used multilayered wards that used the basic warding interactionism principle, which means the house was semi-sentient in judging any potential intruders (and Grandmother had set the house to be very prejudiced against those without the Crouch blood…) But not only that, there were other sets of wards, interlaying the base multilayer wards, which would set a trap for those who attempt to overpower the wards or even trying to find the weakness point of the wards… and that was not including the curses the wards triggered whenever there was an attempt.
Grandmother was one ruthless woman, Madeline and Barty concluded as they learned more about the wards.
But of course learning was not all that they did.
"The young master was a bad son, that's what he was," said Messie with a shudder, her mourning evident in every word uttered. "The poor mistress often cries for him, poor late mistress…"
"Why is he a bad son, Messie?" Madeline asked, putting down the tome she was reading. What they were doing could probably be called prying but Barty argued that it was a necessary investigation, a genuine effort of a couple of children to know more about their father.
They had gathered from Messie that the Crouches main family used to live there in the town house to raise their children, while the Manor was used for the elder of the family. That tradition however, changed because Father had refused to be back in his childhood house again.
Messie sniffed haughtily. "The young master didn't forgive the mistress even after the mistress had truly repented."
The elder elf was shaking her head as she said it, as if what their father did was unthinkable. Perhaps it was indeed unthinkable for a house elf. After all, many wizards treated house elves poorly without ever showing any remorse towards them, so a wizard's apology was probably a novelty for them. But for a human… Madeline frowned, her mind deep in her thoughts.
Barty was more straightforward as he asked again.
"But why did grandmother need to repent?"
Messie was a bit more hesitant at this question. Still she answered, her voice weak and shaking, "the late mistress did horrible things in the past… But the late mistress apologised! The mistress was kind!"
Noticing how the topic was distressing Messie, the siblings refrained from asking more questions. What little information they got, however, had made them realize that there was a deeper reason behind their father's attitude towards the townhouse and his abhorrence towards Charis and Caspar Crouch. It went even further than just dabbling with dark magic, if Madeline had to guess.
In her somber mood, Madeline's feet aimlessly led her to explore the rooms in the old townhouse, taking in every inch of the house to her mind.
She ended up sitting on the stool in front of a grand piano that stood proudly in the middle of the drawing room. There she stayed for a good while, head lost in thoughts.
"Can you play?"
Madeline looked up, finding Barty already standing behind her. She wryly smiled.
"Poorly."
"Elsie will be back with the music sheets!" beamed the elf beside her brother, excited by this turn of event after she helped her young master find his sister. Madeline only watched amusedly as the young elf popped out of sight only to reappear in a blink, this time with numerous sheets in her hands. "The late mistress was able to play. She played the most beautiful songs. Miss Madeline plays beautifully too after she practices!"
Barty arched an eyebrow at this new information. After all, none of them received an education in music, so he must be curious to what extent she could play. His eyes was silently asking her for a demonstration, a request that Madeline happily obliged.
As her finger deftly moved, softly pressing the keyboards in a rehearsed motion, the first notes of für elise came to life.
It was last summer that she touched a piano again, her first time after that night at the grimmauld place with Ron. At that time, she focused on familiarizing herself once again with music and a skill long past forgotten. Hermione Granger had never finished her piano course, but für elise was one of the pieces she finished as a beginner. Young Hermione tried very hard in learning it, as dad had a deep fondness for music, though dad probably would much prefer Elton John's songs than any classical music…
Glimpses of childhood memories appeared in her mind as she played. Dancing in the living room with her parents to the radio, mum's encouraging hold as she braced herself to go to a school full of other children who weren't nice to her, those outings to the museums, and their camps at the forest of dean where dad showed off his knowledge of birds…Many other memories had faded with time, she realised, but the little things that was remembered would always be held dearly in her heart.
She immersed herself in her play until the last of its notes, and when the music ended, a sense of loss, gut-wrenchingly numb in her chest, washed over her entire self.
Madeline pushed away those thoughts and brought her attention to her brother.
"You learned this in the summer?" His tone was of disbelief, awe glinted in his eyes as he watched her reaction.
Madeline hummed. "Practice makes perfect."
"How about this one?" Barty pointed to another sheet on the piano. 'Nocturne,' it read, and Madeline awkwardly took the sheet closer to her, inspecting its notes. There were some parts that were easy, but the other parts…
She chose honesty this time. "I haven't tried this one."
"Well, practice makes perfect…" Barty trailed off, eyes challenging.
Madeline scowled playfully at her brother's cheekiness. To have her own words thrown back at her… She shoke her head in exasperation.
"I'll try."
Her fingers began to play.
Nocturne's calming lull started to fill the room, and as the easy part went by flawlessly, Madeline grew more relaxed.
But of course it didn't go as smooth as the piece before.
Due to her unfamiliarity, Madeline played nocturne slower than it should, and her fingers were hesitating here and there as she tried to read the sheet. It didn't take long before the supposedly hauntingly beautiful piece of music became disastrous. One note off pitch made her falter, and it was quickly followed by another.
Barty's poorly hidden snort was also not helping.
"Don't laugh," she asked through gritted teeth.
"I'm not laughing," her brother claimed, definitely while laughing internally.
She proceeded carefully after that, determined to not miss any more note. Came the sweetest part of the piece, Madeline's fingers confidently danced on the black and white tiles, harmonious melodies stringing in one piece of calming sound - then an awfully unharmonious note that was one pitch higher than it should appeared in the middle of the melody. Madeline winced.
"I can still sense you laughing!" She whined.
"I'm not even making a sound!"
The obvious mirth in his voice did not go unnoticed.
She would finish this piece, she thought with a nose high in the air. It was probably her pride saying, but there was nothing wrong with finishing what she started.
Therefore, through sheer stubbornness and a substantial amount of patience, despite the many 'you can stop now, Maddy,' in the midst of it, the piece was eventually finished.
"As you can hear," she said, closing the fall board before turning to the side to meet her brother's eyes, "My skill in piano is mediocre at best - "
"- and hilarious at worst," Barty finished her sentence, nodding sagely in solemn agreement.
Madeline's eye twitched.
Her hand was quick as she strike, and Barty shrieked.
"Not the cheeks!"
She smirked as she withdrew her hand. He had it coming, she justified as Barty nursed his now red cheek with a scowl.
.
At approximately 2 PM, the fire in Grimmauld Place's floo burned green, and Regulus rose from his chair to greet his guest.
"Crouch."
The younger boy, upon exiting the fireplace, observed the room around him with great interest, though not without addressing his greeting.
"You probably should start calling me Barty," the boy lightly said, eyes still wandering over the room. "I don't think it will be comfortable to call you Black in your house."
Regulus shrugged. "Fine by me."
It was probably long overdue. Crouch - or Barty, he supposed - had been a close companion this year, so formality was just another barrier waiting to be broken. The boy was not as annoying as Pyrites and his lot so Regulus would allow it.
Not a minute later, the fire blazed once again. This time, Barty beat him to greet his guest.
"Rab."
Rabastan halted in his step. He turned his eyes curiously at the younger boy, eyebrows arched. The boy grinned unapologetically.
"I consider myself a fair person. If Black is Regulus, then it is only fair if i call you Rabastan."
Rabastan snorted, not even dismayed by the lack of courtesy. Another proof of their growing closeness, he supposed. "Sure, Junior," he threw back at the younger boy.
Barty Crouch narrowed his eyes.
The following event had no one that saw it coming. Much to Regulus' surprise, Rabastan, the second heir of the Lestrange family that had the grace not even his older brother had, suddenly tripped over nothing, barely managing to keep himself on his feet with a serious show of reflex.
His friend straightened his posture in confusion.
Barty's grin came back.
"Is that a wandless tripping jinx?" Regulus dared ask, eyes widened as he turned at the younger boy.
The grin turned even more gleeful than it was before.
.
Regulus had planned the day meticulously since the time they decided that he would host their gathering. In his plan, he would give Barty Crouch a short tour of his house, starting from the ground floor to the creepy cellar, and then they would spend a considerable amount of their time in the library until it was time for dinner at 7.30.
He probably shouldn't be surprised that his boring plan didn't survive the day.
"Ugh. Come on lads, I could do this at 8," Barty Crouch whined, sitting with his legs spread freely on the floor and his hands supporting his body.
Regulus' concentration broke just like that as he scowled. He had been trying to feel the magic inside him for two hours now, and he still did not find anything.
"You must have a wonderful teacher," Regulus bit back. He had no doubt that Madeline Crouch was the one who taught Barty Crouch wandless magic.
But the younger boy only snorted at his obvious jab on his teaching in comparison to his sister's.
"Beggars can't be choosers."
Regulus gritted his teeth. That retort was, unfortunately, on point.
Beside him, he could see that Rabastan was still deep in concentration. Urged by a sense of competition, Regulus turned to the younger boy again.
"Work me into the meditation again."
The younger boy rolled his eyes but obeyed.
Wandless magic, it turned out, was determined by a high mental discipline, as it directed a wizard's magic to be shaped or manifested in any specific manner he deemed necessary. But first, to direct it, a wizard must feel the magic that was coursing through his body. Using a wand did not require these steps, leaving many wizards became terribly unfamiliar with how wandless magic worked, and it was only through practicing the mind that a wizard could achieve this.
Hence, meditation.
Barty Crouch said that after finding the magic inside him, using it to cast a spell would require much more mental effort. Even after three years, the younger boy only mastered three spells he could cast wandlessly at ease, as to cast wandlessly required a great understanding of the mechanism of the spell, and that understanding needed to be thought of at the exact time of the casting.
After four grueling hours of sitting and concentrating, both Regulus and Rabastan gathered that they would not manage wandless magic anytime soon.
"Now, don't be discouraged," Barty Crouch tutted at his obvious disappointment. "I'm sure you'll get it eventually."
His encouragement sounded patronizing in his ears and Regulus scowled.
Mentally exhausted from all the meditation attempt, neither of them opposed the idea of getting some refreshments. They moved to the table in the drawing room as Regulus called forth Kreacher, asking the elf to bring some tea and biscuits.
"Oh, hot chocolate for me, please Kreacher!" Barty Crouch requested suddenly, just before he finished dismissing the elf.
The three other occupants of the room turned their head and stared at the younger boy, bafflement clear in their face.
Kreacher, at the corner of his sight, was looking undecided at the direct acknowledgement of his presence - guests, after all, did not usually talk to the elves unless the elf was specifically ordered to talk to the guest - and Regulus must admit that he too was confused by the boy's attitude.
Although hot chocolate sounded quite good…
He knew that the proper thing was to serve his guests tea. But hosting friends surely allowed more freedom than the established etiquettes, right? Besides, there was no one here to judge him.
Empowered by a new determination, Regulus cleared his throat.
"Three hot chocolates then, Kreacher. And some cauldron cakes."
Kreacher turned to him, his big eyes wide opened.
"Please," he added, for good measure.
Now Kreacher looked even more confused than ever, he thought in amusement. There was quite a pause before Kreacher appeared to finally gather his mind.
"As the young master commands," came Kreacher's grave reply. The old elf then disappeared soundlessly from their sight.
Rabastan regarded him with an arched eyebrow. "Cakes?"
Regulus shrugged.
Kreacher did not take long preparing their order. The hot chocolate tasted divine, and so did the cauldron cakes, and everyone voiced their satisfaction with it. Barty Crouch once again did something baffling as he thanked Kreacher, and Regulus couldn't help but follow his example, which in turn pushed Rabastan to follow his example.
Mother would certainly be appalled if she heard of this.
"Does all Black play an instrument?" Barty Crouch asked during their break, his head nodding at the grand piano in the room. "My grandmother had one of those in her house."
It was out of the blue, but Regulus, being a good host, indulged him.
"Only females are required to learn."
Barty Crouch nodded. "My family doesn't care much about music, and I don't think my father treats Madeline and I any differently just because of our gender. We both got tutoring in history, law, etiquettes, and some languages - and of course the Hogwarts preparation course a year before we received our letter."
Rabastan perked up. "Law?"
Their conversation grew from there. Barty, it turned out, could recite many legislation dated from the last three centuries, and he claimed that Madeline could recite even more. It became a kind of game for them as Rabastan and Regulus would blurt out any kind of scenario and Barty would try to mention any laws that were related to it.
"What if someone accidently lost their wand and a muggle found them?" Regulus asked once in his turn.
Barty snorted.
"That was easy. A wand, unlike other magical artifacts, will not react to a muggle. They likely would get a reprimand if it caused a small problem, but negligence of magical artifacts that resulted in muggle exposure could be as bad as six months of azkaban, depending on the gravity of the danger it could potentially lead. Decree for the Responsible Magical Artifact Ownership, 1769. Let's say someone really wants you to taste Azkaban out of pettiness. Staging you for this crime could very well be their option. That is, if they had someone in the wizengamot on their side to advocate against you. Not that effective, though. Many could buy their way out of this."
Barty Crouch, Regulus realized after many more mock scenarios, could be as brilliant as his sister.
Memorizing laws was not a necessity for a politician, the boy said, but it could be tremendously helpful if they ever needed it. Barty admitted that the tutoring for laws was probably just a product of their father's overzealous nature, but both siblings learned to just utilize it to the best of their ability.
Their discussion then shifted gradually to the matters of wizengamot and wealth. Between the three of them, Rabastan was the only one who did not get heir training, though he was to receive business management tutoring on his third year of Hogwarts, just like Regulus, while Barty admitted that the Crouches seemed to not have any business running. Their passive income came solely from investing through the ministry's many businesses, and they seemed to let the ministry handle the profit distribution without doing as much as supervising it.
It was curious how one family could differ so much from one another. Regulus now sees where Sirius was coming from when he said that their family was not 'normal'. He probably came to that conclusion because he mistook difference for abnormality, Regulus thought.
"That's a burn scorch," Barty Crouch commented another time, his gaze settled on a specific branch in his family tree. Regulus nodded to affirm his words.
"My cousin. She eloped with a mudblood."
Barty Crouch thoughtfully hummed, eyes still stuck on the burn. "Which part in that sentence was the cause of that?"
Regulus tilted his head.
It was a good point that the younger boy made. Regulus found himself mulling over the question. Elopement or the blood status…
"Both," he replied eventually. "Though, for my mother it was more of the latter."
"But it was the elopement itself that made the Blacks get a bad reputation at the time," Rabastan added. "She was supposed to marry Thadeus Nott, and with her elopement, the Black family broke the engagement."
Barty Crouch frowned. "There is a Thaddeus Nott junior?"
"There isn't."
The younger boy winced, catching Rabastan's meaning. You see, Thaddeus Nott was even older than Regulus' own father, and even now, Regulus still failed to understand why uncle Cygnus let cousin Meda be engaged to a man even older than he was...
"Ah," was the boy's only comment, pity evident in his tone.
Ah indeed, Regulus thought as he stared at the scorch on the wall. He had heard that after a branch was burned, the branch would stop growing, eliminating any potential new branch that would come from it. It must be true, Regulus thought. His cousin's branch did not show any sign of growth.
Sirius said he was going to visit Andromeda and her newborn this holiday. He wondered if Sirius was with their newest cousin right now…
.
Grimmauld Place was certainly an interesting house.
Barty had expected that Black's house would give off the same feelings as his Grandparents' house in Blakeville, but somehow, it felt even more sinister and darker. Maybe it was the lack of sunlight. The abundance of dark artifacts certainly did not help its case.
The whole day had been fun, and Barty must admit he greatly enjoyed tutoring two other older boys in advanced subjects such as wandless magic and magical law. And that hot chocolate was a delight - Kreacher had shared that the chocolate he used was from Switzerland, particularly the same brand Regulus Black usually had in his stash at Hogwarts. Barty would definitely ask Winky to start buying chocolates from there.
But of course, all good things must come to an end.
Now at dinner, no longer that he was having fun, instead Barty was faced with two grave people that looked like they drank the skelegrow potion for fun.
He hadn't decided yet if he liked them.
"I've heard your house's seat in the wizengamot is reserved for you," said Orion Black during their utterly dreadful dinner. Sitting at the head of the table with his terrifying wife on his left, the man looked like he could enjoy a couple of minutes on his bouncy clouds.
And he thought Father was stiff.
Barty nodded respectfully at the man. "My grandparents entrusted me with our seat, yes."
"And you do not consider choosing a proxy?"
Barty blinked at the man whose expression was non-existent on his face. This was a blatant attempt at prying. He looked to the side. Both Regulus and Rabastan were quietly eating their dinner, showing no intention of giving him any clue on what to do.
Traitor.
Barty looked back at the man.
He still didn't know what to do. Should he give what the man wanted, or would it still be polite if he deflected? Merlin, would the man even let him deflect his question?
Feeling left with no choice, Barty did what he usually did. His most trusted method of defense: telling the truth while appearing not caring about it.
"It's in their wish that our family abstain from any vote until I reach the majority," he replied nonchalantly, his tone even with the barest shrug on his shoulder.
Maddy was right to call him having a loose mouth, he realized mournfully right then and there.
The man held his gaze for a long time after that. Barty had the urge to fidget but with the nerves of steel, he endured. Thankfully, after some time, the man hummed and proceeded with his meal.
Dealing with adults was very different from dealing with other children, Barty thought in dismay.
The dinner went on for hours, he swore. Barty knew etiquette, of course, but surely having etiquette could be done simultaneously with having a pleasant time? The Blacks seemed like they did not get the memo and Barty began to pity Regulus Black. No wonder his brother came out as crazy as he was…
He blinked out of his internal musing after realizing that Walburga Black was speaking to him. Barty stared at the fierce looking lady and her solemn grey eyes, not having any clue of what the lady was saying just some seconds ago.
What was it? What did the lady talk about just then? Never did Barty curse his inattention as harshly as he did at that moment.
The lady still stared expectantly back at him.
Sneaking a glance at the side in panic, he saw Rabastan mouthing something… something like 'pureblood directory'?
Barty returned his gaze to the lady, a pleasant smile hanging on his lips and mind hoping that he got it right.
"Oh, we don't have any of that now, so I'm not sure I am qualified to say anything…"
The severe lady narrowed her eyes dangerously.
"Have the Crouches gone bloodtraitors?"
Uh oh. Retreat. Careful retreat.
"Certainly not, my lady," Barty assured her. "It's just… My sister burned all of those books."
"She did? Why?"
It was Regulus who voiced it, his neutral tone calming Barty from his near heart attack. - But damn him, he only spoke up at the mention of Maddy. Barty should have mentioned Maddy right from the beginning if it would result in having Black in the conversation.
In any case, the older boy's genuine curiosity was much preferable than meeting the dragon lady's gaze again, so Barty smiled at his sister's admirer. "She allowed me one summer to memorize all their contents before she burned them. I suppose it's kind of a motivational method?"
At the corner of his eyes, he saw the lady tilted her head - and dear Merlin, was that an appreciative hum?
What had Barty just thrown Madeline into?
After that, Barty kept his mind focused solely on the happenings around him. The dinner was fortunately over not long after that and Barty gave stinky eyes at both Regulus and Rabastan as they walked towards Regulus' room.
Black offered them a game of exploding snap once they arrived at his room, not even acknowledging the dreadful dinner.
He was lucky that Barty liked the game.
For two hours, Barty continuously played the game with fervor unlike anyone had ever seen before. He managed to win two out of three of all the games they played, taking small pleasures in beating his new friends. Once it was late, they finally took turns to use the loo before finally going to bed.
Rather than staying in the guest room, Kreacher prepared two other beds in Regulus' room, not unlike the Slytherin dorm room. Barty must admit that he preferred this over staying in a guest room - he really didn't want to get lost and accidently meet Lady black in the corridor.
It was in the middle of trying his bed for the night that a dark corner of Regulus' room appeared in his sight, capturing his attention.
Out of curiosity, Barty approached it.
There were scraps of the Prophet, cut and stuck to the wall. They were the missing people cases, Barty realized, all diligently arranged in chronological order. Then more of a surprise, upon further inspection, it turned out it wasn't just the Prophet - Guardian, some of it read. A muggle paper, Barty guessed from the still pictures, and it all talked about explosions of leaked gas, a mysterious serial killer, and missing people cases…
"It's my little investigation corner."
Barty jumped at the sudden voice. At his side, Regulus Black, freshly out of the shower with his hair still wet, bent down and took one paper that had fallen down and stuck it again to its designated place.
Barty calmed his breath.
"And you've been doing this since?"
Regulus shrugged. "Three years ago, give or take."
Barty frowned. This was some commitment. Maybe Black wanted to work on the DMLE?
Sensing his curiosity, Regulus smirked.
"I first grew curious because my cousin, the one married to Rab's brother, often leaves bread crumbles when she visits."
"Bread crumbles," Barty parroted, not having any idea of what he was talking about.
Rabastan snorted at his clueless face.
"He's a conspiracy theorist."
Barty blinked. Regulus Black being called a conspiracy theorist was definitely not something he expected.
Regulus though, he scowled and rolled his eyes as he turned to his closest friend, appearing as if he was used to be called with it. "Rab, i told you. It's not conspiracy if it's founded," said he, the words sounded practiced from his mouth.
"Said the conspiracist," Rabastan smirked.
Regulus scowled some more before he returned his attention back to Barty, his expression eager and grey eyes shining in excitement.
"You've heard about the Dark Lord on the rise, yes?"
Barty shrugged. "Hard not to, in our house."
Regulus nodded, before gesturing widely at the wall full of scraps and terror. "Everything in here is his works. I know it. The pattern is there."
A founded conspiracy theory, the words echoed in Barty's mind.
He knew of course, that wizarding britain was terrorized by a mysterious movement that liked to kidnap (or kill) people, dated from 1970, two years before Madeline went to Hogwarts. He remembered the day Madeline saw the missing person news, the way she paled and refused to speak to him for a week. Father became even more busy after that, and he became more tense every time he came home…
Evan had explained to him that this Dark Lord was fighting for their cause, for magic and for their family. Barty couldn't care less about those causes. Evan had also added that the Dark Lord was immensely powerful, and that it was only a matter of time before he won, and yet Barty was still unconvinced.
Father and Madeline never mentioned anything about a dark lord, though Barty was certain now that they both knew about it. He wasn't sure with Madeline before, as Madeline seemed to only care about her own study. But that talk during their dinner about Father's work… she was prying, wasn't she? She was prying about the Dark Lord movement…
A dark lord in Britain. What was he like, Barty wondered?
But that was just pointless wondering, Barty shook his head.
He looked back to the wall. In hindsight, he should have guessed that Regulus Black liked a bit of mystery. His interest in Madeline was enough proof of that fact.
That's right, the older boy even counted Madeline's presence at supper…
He turned fully at Rabastan, arms crossing and one eyebrow arched. "Does he have any conspiracy regarding my sister?"
Regulus blushed, and Rabastan, in his usual laid back manner, hummed his answer pleasantly.
"He does have it in his mind that your sister is a goddess sent to us mortals…"
Barty snorted. "Was it her clear sky of blue eyes or her shining, wild golden mane that clued him in?"
Rabastan grinned, recognizing his reference, and played along. "Her sweet, impish smile, he thinks."
Black's face was now completely red, but he still managed to scowl menacingly.
"He does not appreciate being teased."
"Well he shouldn't make it too easy," Barty mocked. The older boy groaned and dived face first on his bed.
"One poem! It was just one poem!" The boy's shout was muffled by the pillow but still distinct enough for the other two boys to hear.
"That's a poor defense, Reg," Rabastan said, amusement thick in his voice even if his face was the perfect picture of an unimpressed look. Barty agreed with him wholeheartedly. Even one poem was already a sign of a totally whipped wizard.
As if sensing their judgment, Black lifted his head and sneered. "I can still order you to sleep in my brother's room."
Both Barty and Rabastan winced at the threat. They had seen Sirius Black's room as they walked past it, and neither found the idea of sleeping in a room full of obnoxious red and half-naked pictures of women appealing.
"Now that's just poor manners," Rabastan countered, to which Regulus Black smiled winningly.
"So is bullying your host."
Barty sent a look to Rabastan, silently asking whether the other boy would go through with his threat. Rabastan's answering wince was enough clue for Barty.
They better not piss off the guy at his house, then…