Disillusioned [Barty Crouch Jr.]

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Barty Crouch Jr. x Reader

[Theme: Adult]

Requested by: Lily

The normal pained but trying smile from Neville Longbottom spread across his face. Although his lips were wide with appeared joy, his gaze told a story of fear and longing. Seeing your parents should be a time of relaxation and calm. For him, it was nothing more than a sore memory.

A memory of what could've been. Instead of being taken care of by his grandmother, he could've had his mother and father love him. No- even in this state, they still loved him. He knew that from the countless wrappers Alice would save for when he next visited. 

Neville's grip tightened on the armrest of the chair just before he stood up. "I'm glad I got to see you again, Mum, Dad." 

Although his parents were glossy-eyed, there was some thought of recognition. As he was about to leave, a lady in a bright green gown that Neville remembered to be named Miriam stopped him.

"Leaving so soon, dear? They've been waiting a while to see you." she asked, carrying a tray of different medicines. Despite magic being the main use in the hospital, sometimes good old Ibuprofen was the best solution.

"Professor McGonagall said I could only come for an hour before I have to come back. How have they been doing?" he asked uncomfortably. The topic of his parents' health was going to be a sore topic for the rest of his life.

She smiled endearingly in a way to show off a mothering side he hadn't gotten to experience in a long time. "They've been adjusting well. I think if Alice were able to tell you, I'm sure she'd say she was proud."

Just as she said that, Alice approached with a wary look. She took Neville's hand and squeezed it five times. He swallowed in the knowledge of what she meant, but there was something missing from the puzzle.

"Only four people attacked you, Mum. They're in Azkaban now," he told her. In his mind, he recounted each of them. Bellatrix Lestrange, brothers Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, and Barty Crouch Junior. 

She squeezed his hand again with more force. One... two... three... four... five. The fifth was the most intense of all. In what fragments were left of Alice's mind, she knew who that fifth person was, though she would never have the strength to say it.

If there was a fifth person, how did they manage to escape while the other four were captured? What was their role? Where were they now?

Only those four... and Y/N L/N would know.

.....

A searing pain flushed through my body, shaking me awake in the depths of the night. Flinging the sheets off myself, I desperately sought what might be causing such agony. In my attempts to not scream and yelp, I bit through my bottom lip and a metallic taste coated my tongue.

Yet, despite my anguish, I wasn't unhappy, nor did I plead for it to cease. No, no, once I realised, I knew well what it was. He has certain ways of calling us. That burning. I had not felt it for over a decade. The last time... was the night of His death. I pulled up my sleeve and there it was: the Dark Mark. Instead of the faded red it had been for as long as most of us could remember, it was the faintest tinge of black.

He was calling me. With quick and hurried breaths, I regained control with the thought of my master's return being my way forward. My suffering was His progression and it was a necessary sacrifice I was more than willing to divulge. 

There wasn't time to change into formalwear. Instead, I gathered a loose shirt and leggings which were covered by a long cloak that I wore frequently back during our ritual days. 

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