bartemius "barty" crouch jr.

**who: **@crouchbarty-jr​ and alecto **where: **the department of mysteries  **when: **none of your business

Impatience was not an emotion that often presented itself upon Alecto’s demeanour. Not checking the clock had become a practiced measure upon realizing that those around her did not see her time as importantly as she saw it herself and she couldn’t be too particular about it; battles were better picked and chosen. This particular instance however, was enough to make the simmering pot her anger constantly resided in nearly boil over. She had been waiting in the courtroom where she had finished her day of work nearly three hours earlier, pretending that she was still filing through the minutes of the proceedings. There had been nothing too noteworthy though that was hardly a surprise to the young blonde, it was beginning to seem that nothing of note happened within the hallowed halls of the ministry. It was the same day relived a thousand times before actual change or legislation was brought to the table and even then it was always shot down for fear of going against the fray. Though her day had been a waste, the night was shaping up to be a little more productive if only Barty would arrive when he was supposed to. 

Alecto slipped off her heels and shoved them into a handbag that carried far more than would be assumed, pulling out a beat up pair of trainers that would be far better suited for the evening’s activities. She made her way hastily out of the courtroom and into the darkened hallways. All of the clerks had gone home and the judgement committees were likely gathered around their dining tables trying to bite back their hostility towards their dour spouses. The sound of silence was comforting though she could hear the soft pads of feet, somebody was approaching. Her heart raced for a measure before she was comforted with an all too familiar grin. 

“Lovely to see you,” she smiled politely, “Are you all set?”

Barty would only ever do anything if it was for the greater good of their Dark Lord. The two people chosen for this task was none other than the two that bickered the most in the meetings. Their ideals all the same, similarities in their fighting spirit and the need to be seen among the people they respected. Despite them having a few things in common, Barty knew there was a lot more than met the eye with Alecto. No matter how abrasive she seemed or if she gave you any inkling of a thought that she was letting her guard down, was far fetched. Barty was fully aware she was never letting him (or anyone else or that matter) in. With most people he shared relationships with, he had a love/hate relationship with Alecto. He either loved to hate her or hated that he loved her as their friendship working relationship only grew. Especially when it came down to task as such. A lot of trust was forced into each other and everyone knew that Barty was the worst when it came to trusting people. 

Barty stared at himself in the broken mirror in his tiny studio flat that he lived in above Hog’s Head Inn. He wore the dark suit that always reminded him of his father. His face dripping with the water he had just splashed over his face. His long dark locks pulled into a tight bun behind his head. He hated the fact that was going to have to step foot in the Ministry. It had been ages (...perhaps since Azkaban...he thought to himself).

It only made sense though, seeing as how overt their relationship was in the Ministry. Alecto worked there and Barty...well Barty had connections. His mother was blind to her son’s own kinship with the Dark Lord Voldemort. She gave Barty the answers to whatever question he had about the Ministry. If she could get passwords, make him aware of different cursed floors,  and which curses down to the names of the trolls that roamed the halls late at night. He saved all those letters knowing that he would in turn need them one day. Barty inhaled a deep breath, drying off his face with an old towel. 

He was ready.

The lanky man waved his wand, snapping his fingers at the same time as a loud boom shook his tiny flat. The walls shaking slightly as he managed to apparate himself in the forest a little outside of the Ministry. The tall and dark castle gave him a slight shiver down his spine as he remember a flash of his childhood in the building. He glanced at the old watch on his left wrist, the broken arm ticking slowly and surprisingly accurate. (It was about that time.) Barty made his way into the building, his back straighten and his hair pulled out of his face. He even managed a polite smile at the faces that passed him. A few of them surprised to see Barty Crouch Jr. even near the place. 

The man wandered into the long hallway, making his way past the front desk. Even though it was getting late, there was plenty of witches and wizards still working on their last bits before carrying off home. The front desk witch was currently busy helping an older witch in the direction she needed to go to file whatever she was doing. To Barty the sounds of their voices were all a buzz. He managed to slip past the desk towards the office Alecto directed him to meet her at. His footsteps soft as he made his way towards the blonde. He smirked softly at her, his palms sweating and heart starting to beat faster. 

“I am,” he said softly opening his blazer jacket to reveal his crooked wand in his pocket. He glanced his eyes on back at the entrance before returning his gaze to the woman, narrowing his dark eyes on Alecto. “Are you ready?” His eyes flashing a hit of excitement towards her. They were told not to make themselves known and cause a ruckus in case the Order was to find out and stop them in their tracks. They have to be stealthy in their operation if they truly wanted to satisfy Lord Voldemort. 

Barty had always been a bit of odd ball but something about that had drawn Remus in from the first time they’d tried to take out the same book from the library. He was like a moth to a flame when it came to the odd ones. He found most wouldn’t give them a chance. At least, they didn’t always with him. Some people saw his scars and assumed the worst sort of things about him. Remus did his best not assume. Yes, okay, Barty was a little rough around the edges but that wasn’t a bad thing. It just meant that he would take more time to get to know. There was nothing wrong with that.

It wasn’t that Barty was a friend really, but the two had always been friendly towards one another. Ravenclaw and Slytherin often got paired up in terms of classes and besides that James was Remus’s closest friend and that meant he was always hanging around Slytherins. It was really only a matter of time before they ran into each other. Besides that, they had a lot in common academically speaking. Their conversations had been nothing short of stimulating and interesting. Often they would go over curses and possible ways to break them down. They would pull apart hard to apply charms and tricky spells. That was about it with them. Barty had never seemed to want to get too personal with things and Remus was never one to pier. He was happy to have someone to talk about these more complex things with.

Blinking a few times at Barty’s answer regarding his family, Remus shuffled on the spot. He glanced at the elderly man drinking across the room and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Oh, well, I- I hope you’re doing well. If nothing else.” He mumbled before clearing his throat. He made a mental note not to talk about family when it came to Barty. Not that Remus could blame him. Having such a high profile family must have been a lot of pressure on the poor man. He couldn’t imagine trying navigate the world, life, with so many eyes on you.

Finally his gaze returned to Barty as his question. A small smile perked Remus’s lips as he shook his head. “No, but thank you.” He answered. “Honestly, I was out for a jog and got myself horribly lost.” Remus admitted with a hit of embarrassment hitting his tone now. “Lots of-” He paused and thought for a moment. “-restless energy these days. You know?” He asked before breathing out a bit of a sigh. “Normally I would simply apparit back to the loft but I’ve left my wand at home. You don’t happen to know how to make it back to Dalfen avenue do you?”

Barty glanced at him over his shoulder, (Hope I’m doing well, why? he thought to himself). He narrowed his dark eyes on the young lad, his nostrils flaring before giving him an awkward and lopsided smiled. Barty wasn’t the most observant when it came to other people’s emotions. In fact, the only real emotion Barty could read off someone else’s body language was when they were blundering around him. The tone of embarrassment in his voice gave Barty all he needed to know about their interaction. (Had he always been like this? he thought to himself again.) Barty tried to remember the depth of their conversations from the far and wide corners of his mind. It had been so long ago, that Barty really never wanted to remember Hogwarts again. The best time of his years and yet the worst time. It reminded him too much of his father’s nagging at Hogwarts. There were times Barty would purposely fail a lesson or intentionally break the rules with a cruel prank to avoid being associated with his family’s surname. Crouch. (What’s his name again? Loopy? Remmie?) He would have given anything to have been born with the family name “Loopy”.

“Sure, I’m fine, Remedy?” he asked still unsure of himself, but willing enough to sound confident with his choice. He figured he was somewhere in the ballpark with the young man’s name. The guy in the hoodie smiled at him before pausing to take in a deep breath. His comment left a somewhat lingering feeling in one of the tiny wrinkles of his brain. The scars, the restless energy, the jogging...then it hit him. Oh yeah! This was the kid with the weird kink, right? It was suddenly coming back to Barty, the skinny Ravenclaw with all the wild looking scratches on his face and always appeared to be tired. Even back then Barty thought he was a little young to be doing that sort of thing, but to each their own. Barty wasn’t here to judge. 

Barty scoffed under his breath, crossing his arms across his chest. He seemed to still be up to his old ways. (Go get it, ya bastard, he smirked to himself with a soft shake of his head.) The boy breathed a sighed before asking him if he knew his way out of the alley. He raised a brow before snapping his fingers, he pulled his own wand out of his back pocket swishing it towards the bar behind him. A pint glasses appeared in front of Remus. The glass filling itself up with what looked like water, a little murky but it was what was on tap in the sink. The owner didn’t like silly muggle things like “bottled water”, whatever that meant. Like Barty, the both assumed any water was good water. 

“I ain’t no direction giver, mate, find ya own way out,” he said eyeing him up and down again. “Or get out,” Barty shrugged once more towards him. It was times like these he wished he wasn’t such an asshole. The whole bar was empty minus the few sleeping wizards and witches huddled in the background, but those people were always there. They never needed much. Barty had jinxed all their goblets to auto refill whenever they were done, the only way it would stop is if they stopped paying. Barty sighed, not really feeling bad but in the mood for light conversation, after all it had been ages since he spoke to Remingtons Lupkins. “Oi, before ya go, I read in the prophet the other day that some witch is Egypt was attempting to use a gouging spell. Ya know, to crave through earth and stone of the pyramids. Something went wrong, some say the pyramid was cursed to rebuttal against such spells. Didn’t say what happened to the witch. Whatcha thoughts?”

The cold December air whipped around the openings of his mask, the wind burning his skin. He stood high above a hill watching as the rest of the Death Eaters started to gather into their secret meeting place. It had often had to change in chance that others would find them. What they whispered about wasn’t necessarily the most popular opinion, but there were those who followed. Those who would almost do anything (and had) just to continue the legacy and word of Lord Voldemort. To wipe all the muggle and mugblood scum from this world. Those who were not worthy. Barty Crouch Junior believed in a world just as such. Coming from a long line of witches and wizards, he felt as if he was one of the most notable of them all, considering all the other family names of Death Eaters that attended this meeting. But Barty’s surname was the most unusual of them all. He was the son of the Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which meant, his father was responsible for a lot of these people’s family members going to Azkaban. (If they got caught, idiots, he thought). 

The youngest Crouch smiled underneath his mask, one of the biggest smiles he had ever done in a while. He puffed his chest out as his cloak whipped around him when suddenly a gush of air wrapped around him. He snapped his fingers under the heavy wool, a loud boom! Barty apparated into the inside secret meeting spot. A few of the other Death Eaters started to pile in, none of them removing their masks but recognizing the each other by the second face they wore. 

Barty had always been a loyal follower. It had always been harder on him to prove his loyalty than all the others. It was all his father’s fault. He just didn’t understand, he never did. Especially when it came to his own family. He didn’t bother to get to know his son and he left his wife an empty shell of a person. She no longer had interest and wasn’t sure who she was anymore. She had became a wife and mother early on, she had lost sight of who Patricia Goel was. Her new identification was a wife and mother. She no longer recognized the woman in the mirror anymore. She was older, with wrinkles, and hardly smiled. In his earliest memories of his mother, he remembered a dark hair woman, with sun kissed skin, dark soft eyes, and a joyful laugh. It all seemed like a dream at this point in his life.  

Barty made his way towards the center of the room, but just far enough to not be completely in the way. He liked being close to the Dark Lord just in case he was to call upon him, but far enough to make sure he was keeping any eye on everyone in the room. Barty didn’t trust anyone, he felt as if he was the only person always on edge at this meethings. His odd ticks always revealing themselves more. Barty twitched, his shoulder jumping up slight as he started to chew on his bottom lip, running his tongue against it. It had been a habit as a teenager. The joy he received from the pain of gnawing until it bleed was just something that couldn’t be explained. It was a feeling.

He slunk into the shadows, chewing on his lip behind his mask until he felt someone brush past him. Barty straighten up his back, grunting softly under the metal, the silk ties around his ears loosening that held it up began to fall. His masked slipping off his face. 

“Shit...” he muttered as he attempted to catch it before it hit the ground, turning his face away in reflex.

Being predictable was a little boring, but it was often easier. Plus it was far harder to tamper with a translucent liquid coming out of a bottle than anything else, and Sybill with her myriad of trust issues did not need to skyrocket her anxiety with fears over weather or not her drinks were being tampered with. Sometimes a drink at the hogs head or the broomstick after work was the only time she spent out of the house not huddled in a back room making potions, so she wanted it to be as relaxing as possible, even on the nights when she was here.

You might not think it but she honestly didn’t mind the mess of the place- she lived alone and her home constantly looked a bit like there had been a small hurricane; mystery potion spills, dried herbs, crystals scattered about. If it weren’t for the patrons and the general air of darkness that clung to it Sybill might’ve found the bar roguishly charming. What helped in the meantime was that Barty saw no reason not to be generous with his measures. That was the only point in his favor, though. She never left sober.

Sybill raised her glass a little in thanks, “cheers.” She echoed before taking a sip, looking around the place. She’d probably had visions about half the people in here. Still most of them were smart enough to respect the sanctity of a bar, and weren’t willing to disturb the peace so she could sit without feeling like she had to be looking over her shoulder.

Barty didn’t usually engage with her much, so she looks up from the book she’d just got out of her bag, surprised into silence for a moment. “Uh- yeah. I like dry wines.” Sybill had always associated sherry more with old men and cooking, but hey, he was the bartender. It was darker than the sort of stuff she usually drank, but there was no reason not to at least try it, so she took a sip. It was a little more bitter than she was used too but she didn’t hate that about it. “Y’know, that’s not half bad.” She nodded and took another sip, “yeah, I like that. Good call. I suppose I’d be more surprised if you made a bad recommendation, considering how much they trust you with here.”

Barty wasn’t really sure what got into him. Perhaps it was the chilliness of the outside and the roaring fire that made the Hog’s Head Inn, just that bit much cozier tonight. As much as he would have loved to complain about his shift (the shift Barty’s made by choice because it was the most convenient for him), he decided not to bother Sybill with it, at least not today. After all, he had seen her during the meetings with their Lord Voldemort from time to time, she had to be slightly useful. Somewhat. The Dark Lord wouldn’t keep her around for nothing. So, Barty was kind, today he felt in particular talkative. He had rather much talk to Sybill rather than the other guests that walked through the inn. Sybill was very much into astrology (he guessed) and it reminded him very much of his mother. Patricia Crouch had always had an eye for divination, she would often tell Barty’s moods as child through his sun, moon and rising signs. It felt as if that was his mother’s way of trying to get to know him, some sort of connection. He allowed it as a kid, so he became somewhat interested. He had heard that Sybill was actually quite great at it!

Barty smirked, the corner of his lip twisting upward in an almost nice smile as she sipped the sherry. He nodded in approval. He wasn’t the kind to do bad at a job on purpose, not to say he didn’t try. Hell! In all honesty he liked to eat and wasn’t much of a cook, money helped him buy already made meals at different shops. Sybill had to give him a little credit on at least knowing how to serve a drink. He pushed his dirty hair back as she took another sip scoffing under his breath at her comment.

“I would gladly give you a bad recommendation, but you’d probably just see right through that,” he said as he pushed his back against the other side of the bar leaning away from her. “Really, glad ya liked it, cheers,” he said knocking back the firewhiskey once more. He gasped, slamming the shot glass down, shaking his head from side to side. Crossing his arms across the chest, his back continuing to leaned. “What brings ya in?” Barty asked. No one just wandered into the Hog’s Head Inn, Barty knew this. And although Sybil was a regular, she seemed the type to wander about from time to time. He raised a dark brow towards her. “What brings you to this part of town today, Trelawney?”

Thinking of what could happen in the coming weeks, coming days, had him wanting to rip out his own hair. Remus had to do something. Something other than poor over every student’s documents that they’d gotten from Hogwarts. He wasn’t getting away where, or at least, it didn’t feel like it. Fresh air. Remus needed fresh air and so he’d decided to go for a run. He dressed in a pair of thermal leggings and one of James’s hoodies to go out. Hats and mitts too. It had felt so good to be out of his apartment that Remus had managed to get himself lost.

With his mind all over the place he’d also managed to leave his wand at home. Wonderful. This day was turning out just peachy. Really, it was par for the course with how things had been shaping up as of late. God, he wanted to crawl back into the nice, warm, memory of Frank and Alice’s wedding and just stay there. He hoped that, where ever those two were, they were safe. Hopefully no word of this whole thing would get to them till they got home and settled. The newly weds deserved to enjoy every second of their honeymoon. Getting back to business could wait for them.

Losing himself to thought, Remus found himself in a part of town he didn’t normal come to. A part of town he didn’t know. After jogging down a few streets and only finding himself in more trouble than before, he gave up. Frustrated, cold, and tired, Remus ducked into the first building that looked open. He pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped inside. Shuttering at the warmth of the room, Remus rubbed his hands together and glanced at the nearly empty bar. Well, this was not the sort of place he would normally find himself.

“I’m sorry,” Remus started as the owner or worker snapped at him. “If you’re closing soon I can just go-” He paused and tipped his head to the side just a bit. Taking a few steps forwards a small smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “Barty? Can’t be you, is it?” He asked as he approached the bar. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? How long have you been working here? Are you well? How's your family?” Remus asked in a bit of a flurry. He couldn’t help it. He and Barty had always been friendly and with everything going on the last thing Remus wanted was for Barty or his family to be unwell.

Barty groaned in disappointment slamming his book on the bar, the binding of the spine unraveling even more. He glared at the young man who walked inside, wearing a pair of leggings and jacket with the little hood and drawstrings. (Okay, this guy definitely doesn’t belong here, he thought looking at him up and down.) The man walked closer into the bar with a soft, warm, and eerily familiar smile. Barty took a step back as the man got closer. (He knows me name?, he thought again.) The young man started to ramble off, suddenly asking questions only people who were friendly would ask. Barty bared his teeth in a soft growl just as dog would whenever they were scared. Who was this guy?

Then it hit him. He was that first year with all those weird looking scars during Barty’s final year at Hogwarts. The little dweeb that he would find in the library reading all about the Dark Arts. Barty would have to wait to check out the same books that the fellow would have taken out before him. Strange, he was...older now with the same faint lines across his face. He relaxed his shoulders, shifting his weight giving him a gentle shrug. 

“I guess,” he started to say, more to himself than anything. He didn’t really know where to begin. When most people had conversations, Barty was too busy trying to come up with excuses not to talk. He didn’t really like people “getting to know him”, that just wasn’t Barty’s style. But, there was something about Remus Lupin that allowed him to be about 3% truthful with him. In Hogwarts, they eventually started to speak as they would so often read the same titles. For a first year, Remus wasn’t half annoying. He regularly knew what he was talking about when it came to spells and curses. Without fully admitting to himself, Barty actually missed having intellectual conversations with a real person. Most of the guest that walked into the inn always felt like they were on the edge of death. Nothing to live for, more to drink, woe is me, sort of bull crap Barty hated. 

After a few minutes of allowing all the questions to sink in as well as trying to think of something to say, he finally spoke. “I don’t speak to my family anymore,” Barty said dully before tossing the towel on the counter and wiping it down. “Are you going to drink something or not?” He asked coldly, his dark brown eyes staring back at him.

This was not the place most would except a newlywed to be. The glow of her recent wedding still lingered around her, but after everything Alice still had a job to do and she was going to do that job well. Assignments by herself were rare, often partnered with another man and on the occasion Frank. But she had a feeling she was sent along on this one to test out if she really could do this alone. She was now the only married woman in the auror department. It was frustrating but nothing new and nothing that she couldn’t handle. Besides the assignment wasn’t anything horrific, just a standard talking to, following up on a case that was nearly closed and put away. It was whether or not they would actually show up that made Alice anxious.

The air was cold, and her jacket was closed tightly against her as she moved through dark streets. She fiddled with her ring absently, pristine and new. She had sent an owl reminding the person that she would be there and anything she had was better then nothing. Alice new better then to get her hopes up, people would talk when they were ready. Alice didn’t mention that she would be alone and she wondered if she should have. Alice wasn’t intimidating in the way some of her co workers were. She was small, with a young face but her presence was domineering. Despite her stature she always walked into a room and made sure everyone knew she was there. Except in cases like these. Or at least she hoped she did.

Walking into the pub and hearing the tone of the person at the made Alice stand up a little straighter as if she was being threatened. It was second nature at that point. Looking up a the face of the man behind the bar she knew exactly who was talking. She ignored the questions and simply sat down in a corner, back against the wall. Alice kept her eyes locked on the entrance and wondered how long she’d have to stay there.

Barty blinked at the young woman who had just ignored him, he watched as she pushed her back against the corner of the wall, keeping her gaze on the creaky wooden door that she had come in through. Her dark curls looked far cleaner than the patrons he normally saw in here and for a brief moment Barty imagined he almost recognized her. (That’s my move to ignore you, he thought to himself) The man pushed his body further on the bar, crawling over it and leaning across the table. 

“Oi! Are you going to order not? Customer’s only,” he said pointing at the sign behind the bar. “Drink or get lost,” he smirked before falling back on the other side he was familiar with. He figured that would have been the end of that, attempting to return to his frail book. The dim light of the smoky bar hit her ring finger just right as a glimpse of gold caught Barty’s eye. He scoffed slightly under his breath. It wasn’t everyday a married woman came into the inn. Was she hiding from someone? Meeting up with a secret lover? Barty crossed his arms against his chest, he leaned against the glass table tsking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Barty was never one to judge another person for their sexual preference or whatever kink they had. Hell, Barty would be the first to admit that he was a bit of a weird-o, but it wasn’t as if he went looking for it. It didn’t bother him if he didn’t or did get it. But whoever this woman was married too, was clearly not getting it. 

Coming out from behind the bar, Barty walked up to the woman’s table tossing her a sticky menu. He rubbed his nose, smacking his lips together. “We ain’t got no specials and I will probably make you the wrong drink if you ask for anything specific.”

(Except Igor, since Voldemort did need someone to watch her and he was just stupid enough to do it without really thinking about the damage he could do if he told everyone what he knew.) 

She was just glad he was too selfish to tell any of them she was a Seer, or they’d all be crawling all over her for information. Sybill supposed most of them thought she was just really committed to her disguise as this reclusive bohemian potioneer, and that the reason she spent time around rumoured Order members was to gather information from them. That was okay, they could think like that for now. It was far better to have them thinking she was really on side than for them to know the truth, since they’d only torture her over it.

So, every now and then after work Sybill stopped by the Hogs Head. Her preferred was the Broomsticks with James for company, but both places served a decent enough white wine that she could sit at either bar. Plus Barty wasn’t often all that talkative, leaving her to read or make notes. She suppressed a laugh at the sour look on his face when she drifted in- some part of her found it very satisfying to disturb his quiet evening- “nothing too extravagant, dear.” Sybill assured him as she hopped up onto a barstool, smoothing out her skirt, “just the usual white wine, if you don’t mind.” 

He could smell the incense from her curly locks, see the out light of her fly aways of the big blonde main on top of her head creating an almost angelic glow from the corner of his eye. Barty had expected nothing more than a white wine from Sybill Trelawney, it was her usual drink of choice as she was one of those night regulars Braty took “oh-so-good-care-of”. He pushed his book shut, running his tongue against his teeth making a soft tutting sound. Barty removed his wand from his pocket once more, flicking it over to the glass bar behind him. A bottle of chilled sauvignon blanc floated out of the bar fridge, followed by a wine glass that set itself neatly in front of Sybill on an old and stain coaster that fell neatly underneath it. The bottle tipped over softly pouring a generous amount of white wine into her glass. Barty waved his wand once more as the item returned to their respectful places. He leaned over, pushing the glass and coaster closer to the young woman in front of him.

“Cheers,” he said as a shot glass flew in front of him sloppily and a handle of his personal stash of firewhiskey from underneath the bar jumped up. The handle sloshed in the air over pouring the tiny shot glass. The bar table in front of him splashed with firewhiskey as Barty took his glass, holding the glass between his thumb and index finger. Shooting his head back, he inhale the burning liquid exhausting a light gasp. 

Barty was quiet familiar with Sybill, seeing her occasionally at the meetings (that is when he managed to pay attention to anyone else in the room besides the Dark Lord, of course). She, too, spent a lot of her time in the Hog’s Head Inn, not that it bother Barty, but it always gave him an uneasy feeling, almost like she didn’t belong in here. She also kept to herself most of the time, drinking her wine, writing, reading, or whatever she normally did on her free time. Not really engaging with Barty, which was the way he actually preferred it, but he just couldn’t brush off the odd feeling. He wasn’t very good at reading people, not that he bothered to try to, but there was just something odd about Sybill. Perhaps it was her aura, or how she didn’t really seemed committed to the ways of Lord Voldemort, either way, Barty wasn’t buying it. But, she had never given Barty a reason to really dislike her, so his feelings towards her were indifferent. He figured he’d just give it time and see where her own fate would bring her. He didn’t trust her, he knew that for sure.

“You should try sherry,” Barty commented to her as he poured himself another shot of firewhiskey. “You like dry wines, yeah?” He asked pushing himself off his elbows, he turned around reaching for the top shelf and pulling down a bottle of a sherry wine. He snapped his fingers as another wine glass appeared, this one slightly smaller than the glass in front of her. He poured the dark wine into the glass, sliding it towards her once it was done. “They say sherry is basically aged white wine,” Barty shrugged carelessly. 

“What?” He asked coldly, his dead brown eyes glaring at the old wizard. The wizard stood up, pushing his chair back allowing it to fall to the floor with a hard thunk. The older wizard pushed his hand into his pocket pulling out some silver and bronze sickles and knuts, slamming them hard on the table. “Beer taste like piss,” he grunted as he made his way out. “That’s because it is!” Barty shouted out after him as a gushed of wind washed in causing the fire to flicker loudly. Barty heaved a long sigh before pulling his wand out from his back pocket of his jeans. He waved it towards the fallen chair as a line of silver lifted the chair and set it up right back at the bar.

Barty was used to slow nights like this, hell, he even preferred it. For him, it was never about making enough money or even having it. The cost for a room at the Inn and for unlimited firewhiskey was enough for Barty to want to stay forever. He had been lucky to be in the right place at the right time. The manager at the Inn had grown keen of Barty’s company. He didn’t ask a lot of questions, was always on time, and kept to himself when he was in his room. But that wasn’t the only reason why he liked Barty. Barty in fact had saved his life once. Not that it was Barty’s intention to do so, like he said, right place at the right time. He liked looking for a fight. The manager of the Inn had gotten into a spat with one of the regulars, the client was so furious (or perhaps just really drunk), attempted to curse the owner. Barty, quick on the draw and sharp thinking was quick to counter curse the spell, but while doing so, alerting the authorities in the process. No sooner, his father was there on the scene. Barty was arrested by his father and was forced to serve a month (38 days to exact ) in Azkaban due to causing bodily harm on another person that could have resulted in death. (If only, Barty thought) Once he returned to work, the owner decided to promote him to the head night bartender where Barty could work alone. Most nights the bar was dead, exactly the way he liked it. 

The bartender looked around the bar, an elderly wizard sat at the end with his hood up. His goblet had something smoking out from the top as he drank from it. Barty looked around the bar again, a witch and another fairly older wizard sat in the table in the back talking to themselves in whispers. He tossed his bar towel over his left shoulder pulling out a pocket book on how to break counter curses. The man leaned over, tucking a fist under his chin, now if only no one else would come into the bar it would be the perfect night. If only...

The bar door sung open, the air whipping at the rough edges of his book. Barty didn’t bother to look up from his book, he stayed still before finishing up the page he had been currently reading. He glance up with a bored expression.

“What do you want?”