Young Barty Crouch sat curled up on the floor, casting a cold glance at the man who had just pushed open the door—his father—before turning his head away in silence.
Seeing his son in such a state, Barty Crouch Sr. felt a surge of uncontrollable rage.
He stormed across the room and, without a word, began to rain punches and kicks down on the boy. Young Barty could only shield his head with both arms, glaring fiercely at his father through the narrow gap between them as the blows landed.
Only after venting his fury did Crouch Sr. finally stop, breathing heavily as he stood over his son. His voice, shaking with anger, rang out:
"You little bastard—do you have any idea how much I've sacrificed for you?!"
Young Barty gave a cold, mocking laugh but said nothing in response.
The sight only fueled Crouch Sr.'s anger once more. He took a moment to force it down before snapping:
"Just now—Lucius Malfoy, that scum, came to see me. Merlin knows how he found out I broke you out of Azkaban—but he used it to threaten me! He wants me to resign as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement! This mess—this disgrace—is all your doing!"
At those words, young Barty froze for a second—then exploded in fury.
"That bastard! Lucius, that bloody traitor! Is he looking to die?! I swear I'll kill him!"
Crouch Sr. blinked, momentarily taken aback by his son's reaction. It clearly wasn't what he had expected.
The brief surprise dulled some of his rage.
But before he could speak again, young Barty was already roaring:
"That rat—Lucius—he's still free out there, still living comfortably! If he's so loyal, why isn't he looking for the Dark Lord?!"
Then, suddenly, Barty paused, eyes narrowing as he murmured, almost to himself:
"No… no, something's not right. He wants you to step down from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but there's no way he could take the post himself. That demand… it must've come from someone else. He's working for someone. Could it be—for the Dark Lord? Has the Dark Lord returned already?"
A manic gleam lit in his eyes as he burst into laughter and began shouting across the room:
"Yes! That's it! Lucius is acting on the Dark Lord's orders—he must have returned! The next Head of Magical Law Enforcement will be one of us—one of the Death Eaters! Ha! Let them tremble—Voldemort is coming back! Do you remember the fear we once inspired?!"
Barty Crouch Sr. looked at his son—now raving like a madman—and felt an icy weight settle in his chest.
As for whether Thomas Vole was a Death Eater? That, Crouch had never truly doubted. After all, he had been Vole's superior back when Vole was appointed Head of the Auror Office.
Staring at the defiant boy before him, Crouch Sr. couldn't help but sneer.
"Death Eaters? They're history."
The words made young Barty pause, then he snarled, hatred in his eyes:
"We will return!"
Crouch Sr. shrugged dismissively. "Return? And then what? You think the wizarding world still fears you? No. Compared to the Alliance, you Death Eaters are nothing."
"Did you ever launch an assault on the British Ministry of Magic? Did you ever break through Gringotts?"
Young Barty scoffed. "So what? If the Dark Lord wanted, we could do all that and more—easily! Just wait! Once I reunite with him, I'll suggest we do exactly that!"
Crouch Sr. laughed coldly. "Oh? Is that so? Then let's go even further. Has your Dark Lord ever run for President of the International Confederation of Wizards?"
Young Barty froze. "W-what?"
Crouch didn't wait for an answer.
"Can your Dark Lord inspire global uprisings—gather loyal supporters in every corner of the wizarding world?"
Then, with a voice dripping in contempt, he added:
"Step outside Britain—who even knows who you are? 'The Second Dark Lord'? Please."
"You're wrong!" Barty Jr. shouted. "Power! Only power lasts! My master is the greatest Dark wizard in history!"
Crouch Sr. threw back his head and laughed.
Perhaps it was because he'd be stepping down the next day—his political career effectively over—but for once, Barty Crouch let himself laugh without restraint.
He looked at his son with exaggerated amusement and said:
"The greatest Dark wizard in history? Really? Then allow your father to give you a quick history lesson."
"In my eyes, there's only one wizard worthy of that title—Gellert Grindelwald. He spent his life at odds with a man who later became your master's headmaster: Albus Dumbledore."
Crouch Sr. gave his son a cold smile as he continued:
"In a way, Voldemort is barely of the same generation. He's practically a footnote in Grindelwald's legacy."
Young Barty stood stunned and speechless, unable to formulate a retort. His blank expression seemed to please his father greatly.
But then, Barty Jr. stiffened and said stubbornly:
"Even if Grindelwald was powerful—he must be over a hundred by now! He's an old man!"
Crouch Sr. sneered. "So is Dumbledore."
That shut him up.
Crouch Sr. then added, almost casually:
"And the one leading the Alliance now is Grindelwald's heir—the young scion of the Grindelwald family. All the feats I mentioned before? They were his doing."
He fixed his son with a hard stare.
"These days, British witches and wizards speak of the Alliance and Grindelwald. Death Eaters and Voldemort? They're relics. Who even remembers them?"
With that, Barty Crouch turned and left the room without looking back.
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