Time to put your galleons where your mouth is

Chapter 11

An Evident Change

Bartemius Crouch Jr, commonly known as Barty, was excited. Beyond Excited. It was finally, finally his first year of Hogwarts, and he'd been looking forward to it for years. True his father had gone on about getting the best possible grades, being the best possible son, but his mother had said to just make friends and be happy.

There was nothing in this world that Bartemius Crouch Jr loved more than his mother. She was always, always there. She'd comfort him from a nightmare, taught him all she could about Ancient Runes, in which she specialized, and Barty would do all that he could to make her happy. He'd hugged her good-bye at the station, because his father had to get going for work, even if the train didn't leave for another twenty minutes. His mother had waved goodbye after kissing his forehead and Barty had sucked in a deep breath of air and twisted around, ready to head out on the train.

Only for his trunk to get caught on the steps of the train.

Letting out a gasp of surprise, Barty gave a vicious tug, but the trunk refused to move, stuck as it was. Grimacing, Barty twisted the handle this way and that, determined to get the trunk free, to wiggle the luggage out of the space it was currently caught in.

"Need a hand?"

Before Barty could answer, his trunk was lifted from the other side, almost sending the young Crouch heir stumbling back. Blowing a strand of sandy brown hair back and out of his eyes, Barty looked up and paused. The boy that'd helped him was obviously older than he was, perhaps a fifth or sixth year, decking out in Slytherin robes and wearing a perfect badge. Dark hair was pulled back in a small topknot, a few wispy strands breaking free and framing his face.

"Got a seat yet?" The boy asked, drawing his wand and flicking it at the trunk. Instantly Barty's luggage lifted into the air, floating serenely behind him.

Blinking in surprise, Barty shook his head, allowing the older boy, a prefect, to lead him down the train corridor before pushing open an empty compartment. His trunk flew upwards into storage and Barty turned to look at the older boy.

"Bartemius Crouch Jr, heir to the Noble House of Crouch. But I just go by Barty."

"Turais Black, Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. Turais will do though." He knew that name!

"I remember meeting you! At the Parkinson's ball..." Barty trailed off, trying not to blush too hard. His father hadn't really hung out with that crowd again, not since the boy stood before him had proven himself to be a Parselmouth and thus, in his father's words, dark.

But Barty couldn't see it.

The boy had been nice enough to help him out, and just a year ago he'd made the newspapers for discovering the location of the Chamber of Secrets. Apparently, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named hadn't liked that, and had gone on several raids right after that announcement. And then he'd come up in the papers again over summer, having blasted the record for every exam he'd sat. That'd not happened since Octavius Lavin, who'd sat the OWL equivalents of the 1700's in 1758, a half-blood.

"You broke the record for OWLs! You even beat that Octavius guy!"

At that, Turais Black gave a funny smile, chewing on his lip after a second.

"Yes, I... Read about Octavius' life. It was certainly... Eventful. Are you a first year Barty?"

"I am."

"Feeling nervous?"

Barty fidgeted a bit, sitting down once Turais Black took a seat as well, one leg crossed over the other as grey eyes assessed him, almost as if the older boy was looking for something specific.