Chapter Text
Barty Crouch Jr. lost all self-control, and was screaming in panic when he saw the approaching dementor. The monster’s intention was clear: he wanted his soul, and the Ministry approved his execution.
That was when he heard a loud crack, then another.
For a minute, he didn’t even register what had happened to him, only that was he was lying on the ground.
“Master Barty! Are you alright?”
It was Winky’s voice.
He opened his eyes, and slowly got into a sitting position. He felt extremely cold, fatigued and depressed. All the effects of being around a dementor. He was only subdued by them before, but never attacked.
“I’ll manage,” he groaned.
Barty looked around frantically. They were up on a hill, and he noticed familiar buildings in the distance. They were near Hogsmeade, apparently, she disapparated him and herself. Of course...house-elves were able to apparate even in those places where humans couldn't.
Winky saved him.
The situation he was in was not ideal, to say the least. He was defenseless, Moody’s wand was taken from him when he was incapacitated. The Ministry has surely launched a manhunt already.
At this point, he wouldn’t restrain himself from casting Avada Kedavra on anyone who had threatened his life. He had nothing to lose now. Those Ministry hypocrites didn’t want him locked-up, they wanted him dead.
“Don’t worry, Master. Winky won’t let them hurt you!” the elf said with determination and fire in her eyes.
The Crouch house-elf was never aggressive and never battled anyone. Yet, it was clear that she would attack if someone approached them with bad intentions. This was a side of her Barty didn’t know about.
Seeing how fiercely the elf was trying to keep him out of harm’s way, Barty came to the realization that he hadn’t been appreciating Winky enough. But this would change from now on.
She was still loyal to him, despite the horrible crimes he had committed, and knowing what he had become and what he was capable of. She even openly went against the law right in front of the Minister for Magic himself. This wasn’t just simple loyalty or sense of duty. It was much, much more.
“Master Barty, did you really…your father…?” the elf asked timidly.
“I did. The old man got what he deserved,” Barty told Winky as-a-matter-of-factly.
“Don’t say such things, Master! He wasn’t a bad man!” Winky protested, shaking her head.
“Not to you. But he was to me. What kind of parent would throw their son into Azkaban for life right away? He was eager to get rid of me, not even trying to help me or set things right. He chose his career over his family over and over again.”
Barty shook his head, and clenched his fists in anger.
“He took away my free will and my freedom. Forced me to live like as if I didn’t even exist. Do you know what happens when you cage an animal for too long? It gets vicious. That is what happened to me. What I feel toward my father…it’s hatred I can’t even describe. But it was a feeling that kept me going, that made me fight against him, my desire for revenge growing by each day. I refused to bow down until I became who I was meant to be,” he told the elf with voice as cold as ice.
Tears began falling from Winky’s eyes upon hearing this.
“But you know that well, you witnessed everything yourself. I appreciate what you did for me all these years, Winky. I was angry when I found out my father sacked you…but of course, I couldn’t do anything about it. He cast the damn Imperius spell on me before I even regained consciousness. The days we spent together - just the two of us - at home was terrible, to put it mildly. But at last, the Dark Lord came and saved me…and father finally got a taste of his medicine. I really enjoyed seeing the tables turned.”
Barty let out a short, cruel laugh.
“It was Winky’s fault…Winky couldn’t protect her Masters…” Winky cried.
“No. It wasn’t yours. Father was the blame. You only could postpone the inevitable, on his orders. But as I’ve said, I appreciate that you’ve been caring for me. I am not without gratitude, elf. I want you by my side. You may continue to serve the Crouch family.”
Upon hearing this, Winky suddenly stepped forward, and hugged Barty’s leg, which caught him by surprise. Barty didn’t even remember when was the last time someone hugged him.
“Thank you, Master Barty, thank you so much!” Winky cried. “Winky will not disappoint Master, not again! Winky’s loyalty to the Crouch family is forever!”
She didn’t see him as a monster like everyone else did. It was ironic that it was a house-elf who showed him such affection. She had been with him since he was a child, and now she was the only family he had left, and she had also become a fugitive, just like himself.
She was still a servant, though. Barty gently pushed the elf away, not allowing himself to get emotional. He needed a cold head now.
“We must get moving, before they find us,” he told her, masking his feelings. “And I must get a wand for myself immediately.”
He felt helpless without his weapon, and rightly so. But Winky was his weapon now, the one who could do magic, and he had to rely on her. As a Death Eater, he realized how ridiculous and pathetic the situation was.
“Master Barty should have his own wand,” the elf said.
“Obviously. But I have to make do with someone else’s wand for the time being.”
“Winky knows what to do, Master. House-elf magic is as powerful as wizard magic. In some cases, it is even stronger,” Winky explained.
Barty sneered.
“You wish!” he said with disdain.
“You just wait here for a minute, Master.”
With that, she disapparated. She came back 5 minutes later – and not empty-handed. She had tons of brand-new wands with her, still in their boxes.
“Are you kidding me?!” Barty asked wide-eyed. “Have you emptied Ollivander’s shop? I don’t have the luxury of time to chew through these. It took me at least 30 minutes as a child to find the proper one. Mother was getting impatient too…”
“This is a small shop, not like the one on Diagon Alley, Master,” the elf pointed out. “Low supply, so Master will find the right one faster.”
“That is true,” Barty nodded. “But people will surely notice that someone broke in.”
“Winky used magic that can’t be detected, and nobody will be alerted for now. Winky will bring back the ones Master doesn’t need.”
Barty gave in. He couldn’t appear in front of Lord Voldemort, wandless and in desperate need for the help of his house elf. He couldn’t show such weakness, especially if other Death Eaters were around too.
Finding the wand that matched him wasn’t easier than before. He didn’t even count how many he had tried before he came upon the wand he instantly felt a connection with.
“Ebony wood, 10 inches,…hmm…and what the hell is this?” his eyed widened in disbelief, as he read the description. “Thestral hair for the core?! Seriously?! I’ve read that core is…” he stopped talking, and shook his head. “Nevermind. I can handle the challenge.”
What an unusual wand. His old wand - which was destroyed when he was thrown into Azkaban - was completely different. It seemed that what he was given as a child no longer matched his present personality or needs. It didn’t come as a surprise, though.
This jet-black ebony wand wood had an impressive appearance and reputation, being highly suited to all manner of combative magic and to transfiguration. It was happiest in the hand of those with the courage to be themselves. Frequently non-conformist, highly individual or comfortable with the status of outsider, it was a perfect match was the one who would hold fast to their beliefs, no matter what the external pressure, and would not be swayed lightly from their purpose.
As for the thestral hair…It was regarded as an unstable, if not the most difficult, substance to use in wand-making. It was potent, but a tricky core to master; only a witch or wizard who was capable of accepting death could do so.
“Will Master join the Dark Wizards again?” Winky asked, already fearing the answer.
“Without question. Even if I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have a choice. Service to the Dark Lord is for life,” he said proudly, then sighed. “Damn it all, I was so close to killing Potter!”
“Please, Master Barty! No more killing, no more!” Winky pleaded with him, tears appearing in her eyes once again.
“That’s not for you to decide!” he snapped at her angrily. “I am a Death Eater, and the sooner you accept it, the better. I’m sure Fudge gave the Aurors permission to use the Unforgivables on me, and they will kill me on sight.”
He pushed his hair back, and continued, trying to control his anger:
“But it was I who helped the Dark Lord rise again. I did what he asked: I delivered Harry to him, and he was able to restore his body. He will certainly reward me for that. We have plenty of time to kill Potter later.”
“Well, at least Master is free again, just as his mother wanted,” Winky said sadly.
Barty clenched his jaw at the mention of his mother. He didn’t want to remember and dwell on what happened to her. He felt that if he did that, he would surely descent into deeper madness. He couldn’t change the past, and the memories would only weaken him.
Pushing his mother’s sacrifice to the back of his mind, he told Winky:
“There is a safe house in London that only Death Eaters could enter. It has the cursed barrier, which prevents anyone without a Dark Mark from passing. We can go there.”