MEMENTO MORI | DRACO MALFOY

TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY

Ophelia was discharged from the Hospital Wing first thing the next morning. She sent Draco away the moment he woke, telling him she'd meet him at breakfast. Ophelia had no intentions of going to breakfast, however, as she asked Madam Pomfrey to call for Dumbledore. She hadn't forgotten about the deal they'd made.

     If she were to say she wasn't nervous, she'd be lying. Normally, Ophelia would be able to shove any anxieties away and put on her usual stone-face and get by that way, but ever since the third task, her emotions have been overwhelming and frightening. She felt things she'd never felt before. Grief was one of them. Every time she'd close her eyes she'd see him, Cedric, wide-eyed and motionless. She'd become beside herself with sadness. So her solution? Keep her eyes open. Don't think about it. Ignore it.

     Dumbledore arrived shortly after Madam Pomfrey had scooted off to call for him. He still looked uncertain of whether what he was doing was right. Of course it wasn't right, but Ophelia needed this. Maybe then she would be able to have control again. He held out his arm wordlessly, and Ophelia knew better than to ask questions. She gripped onto his bony bicep and they immediately apparated.

     It was windy up on the West Tower. There were no stairs or any other way up there other than apparition. So, naturally, being the Headmaster, Dumbledore was the only one who was able to apparate within the grounds and the only one who could get to Crouch. The older man looked down at her with tired eyes.

     "You may have a moment, I will remain over here." He said kindly, "if you require anything at all, signal for me."

     Ophelia nodded, glancing over at the cell. It was dark inside, she couldn't even see the silhouette of Crouch inside. She wondered what he looked like. Would he be a spitting image of his father? Choppy hair, short moustache? She thought she knew what every Death Eater looked like, she thought she'd read every newspaper article, but Crouch must have slipped through the cracks.

     Slowly, Ophelia walked cautiously to the cell. The bars were thick and strong. It still unnerved her, seeing as Sirius Black had somehow escaped the same cell only a year ago. Dumbledore had to have had the bars reinforced. As she approached, the sun behind her back lit up the cell, revealing a silhouette of a thin man.

     "Hello?" Ophelia called nervously through the bars. "Crouch?"

     There was a low chuckle from inside as the figure stood up and slowly made his way towards her. He probably hadn't eaten since he was still impersonating Moody. His dirty hands grabbed the bars weakly and his face was revealed by the sunlight. He looked nothing like the man he had been portraying. She could tell that Barty Crouch Junior could have been handsome once. His hair, now wiry and greasy, fell into his dark eyes. He continued to laugh under his breath until his tongue came out of his mouth, grazing the edge of his top lip, just as she had seen 'Moody' do in class the day they practiced the Imperius curse.

     "What happened to the Ophelia Rosier I met months ago?" He asked lowly, noticing her wavering caution. Crouch appeared amused, his laugh was sadistic and frightening.

     "Someone messed with my head." She replied, standing up straight in an attempt to recompose herself.

     Crouch laughed a little louder this time. "Your mind is broken, is it?"

     "Possibly."

     "Just did a little tinkering in there, you're not broken, Rosier." His face dropped to a more serious expression. "Once you align with the Dark Lord, you'll be more powerful than you ever imagined. The walls inside your head will be reinforced with dark magic."