Barty Crouch Sr. sat on the cold stone floor of his temporary prison, his eyes vacant, muttering to himself:
"I did not collude with the Fire Serpent Party… that was merely a delaying tactic. I needed to gauge their true strength and organize a force to capture them all at once."
This had been the defense he had meticulously prepared for his trial.
Yet, he never got the chance to present it. The Ministry of Magic Development Foundation had long abandoned the slow processes of justice. For a criminal like him—with irrefutable evidence against him, who had fled from the law, and even toyed with Aurors using a House-elf—a formal trial was deemed unnecessary. A simple confirmation letter to the Wizengamot members was enough, and after a 98% "guilty" verdict, his conviction was finalized.
The only exception was a former Principal, trapped at Hogwarts and cut off from all communication.
Barty Crouch Sr. felt a surge of regret. How had he become entangled with the Fire Serpent Party? Hadn't his life, apart from his pursuit of power, been entirely dedicated to fairness and justice?
And yet, here he was—punished by the very justice he had chased all his life.
He knew he had made a grave mistake. The Fire Serpent Party had ravaged Merlin City, leaving countless pure-blood families destitute. For the head of an ancient pure-blood family, this was a pain far worse than death. And it was his actions that had brought this calamity upon them.
Once his involvement became known, he became the enemy of all. The pure-blood families, unwilling to provoke the Fire Serpent Party, would have subjected him to unspeakable torture had they caught him.
Fortunately—or perhaps cruelly—Minister Dantes intervened, halting all private executions. The title of Minister, once meant for him, now belonged to Dantes.
"Damn it," he muttered, bitterly. The position that was meant to be his… now stolen.
A sudden clang! echoed through the corridor as the iron door swung open. Rufus Scrimgeour entered, flanked by several Aurors.
"Barty Crouch, it's time. We're sending you to Azkaban."
Barty Crouch Sr. leapt to his feet, shouting:
"No, Scrimgeour! You can't do this! I was only pretending to cooperate with the Fire Serpent Party to eliminate them completely!"
Scrimgeour sneered. He wouldn't give the man who had ruined his own career any chance at redemption.
"Tell all that nonsense to the Dementors," he said coldly. He gestured to the Aurors behind him. "Take him away."
The Aurors stepped forward, binding and escorting him. Barty Crouch Sr.'s desperate protests were silenced by a Tongue-Tying Curse, leaving only muffled cries to escape his lips.
The temporary prison was on the Ministry's tenth basement level, while the Floo Network fireplace remained on the eighth. As they approached the Floo Network, Ministry employees in the main hall erupted into jeers and cheers. Some even flung pieces of lettuce from their breakfast sandwiches at him.
Barty Crouch Sr.'s face went pale. He was finished. He had longed for justice, but now, justice itself was judging him.
Through the Floo Network, they arrived at Scourie Pier in Scotland—the only link between the Ministry and Azkaban. Like a walking corpse, Barty Crouch Sr. was pushed onto the boat and crammed into a small, unbearably musty room.
If Dana were here, he would have recognized it immediately as the room Barty had once stayed in when Snape had picked him up from Azkaban. At the time, Dana had even thought it luxurious.
Now, Barty Crouch Sr. would soon understand why.
He was transported to the highest level of Azkaban Fortress.
"Crouch," Scrimgeour's voice cut through the air like steel, "you have Minister Dantes to thank. He feared you might be tormented by the other prisoners' words, so he arranged for you to be alone on the highest level. Quiet repentance awaits you."
Thrown into his cell, Barty Crouch Sr. finally realized the depth of his predicament. Tears streamed down his face as he trembled, burying his face in his hands.
After an indeterminate time, a piece of black bread and a cup of clear water appeared in the cell. He stared at them, unwilling to move. Perhaps, he thought, it would be better to starve.
Suddenly, two vines emerged from the floor, twisting together to form an archway. A voice called out from the other side:
"You can't skip meals, Mr. Crouch. The first time I had the Azkaban special, I almost threw up my guts."
Barty Crouch Sr.'s heart leapt. The voice was familiar. Once, he had thought it was his only hope of escape.
"Earl Dantes?" he whispered.
The figure stepped through the doorway. Barty Crouch Sr.'s heart raced. This was the Earl—but the icy tone of his voice immediately made him uneasy. When had Earl Dantes ever eaten Azkaban prison food?
Dana Emrys.
Barty Crouch Sr.'s mind froze. The truth hit him like lightning: Dana Emrys and Earl Dantes were one and the same. Judging by his expression, Dana seemed to hold a deep grudge. But Barty could not remember a personal grudge against him.
Then he recalled: Dana had been forced to impersonate a criminal, imprisoned in Azkaban for four years due to a case Barty had overseen in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Fudge had coerced him, and his decisions had indirectly led to tragedy after tragedy.
How could he have forgotten so completely? Perhaps he had chosen to ignore these stains on his record—if he didn't think about them, they ceased to exist, leaving him a pure and upright official.
Dana Emrys conjured a sofa and low table, setting out red wine and crystal glasses. His figure shifted again, assuming the appearance of Reinhardt Van Ba, the Fire Serpent Party leader, who casually sipped wine as if relaxing in a drawing room.
Barty Crouch Sr. exploded.
"It's you! It's all you!" he shouted, lunging at Van Ba. But a single gesture from the young man and countless vines bound him tightly, cutting into his flesh.
Dana's true form returned—an 18-year-old with white hair and piercing blue eyes.
"Barty Crouch," Dana said calmly, "haven't you always pursued justice? I am helping you."
He put down his wine glass and looked at Barty, suspended helplessly in midair.
"What is justice?" Dana continued. "It is often understood as fairness, as proper reason—but interpretations vary by era. Yet no form of justice can exist without fairness. You need not be angry. What you are experiencing is exactly what you deserve. That is true fairness."
Barty's mind reeled.
"Because of your selfishness, you were swayed by Fudge and did terrible things. I lost my mother, and I was imprisoned for four years. Shouldn't you savor the despair and pain you caused? That is absolute fairness."
Dana moved to another part of the cell, tapping the wall. It folded and retracted, revealing the adjacent cell. Inside, a limbless humanoid creature cowered while a greenish Inferi held a baby, singing a gurgling lullaby.
Barty Crouch Sr. shivered. He recognized the Inferi—John Flint, missing for years. Dana walked to the opposite cell and lifted the head of another creature, revealing the battered figure of Donna Avery.
"You know each other?" Dana said. "Perfect. Starting today, you are roommates. I wish you a pleasant stay."
Barty Crouch Sr. tried to protest, but the vines binding him writhed, digging deeper into his flesh.
"Ah!" he cried out as Dana instructed John Flint to take care of him.
A magical circle concealed the cell, and Dana exited through the Spandim Gate, leaving without a glance.
Barty Crouch Sr. collapsed to the floor, his body and mind on the brink of collapse. He turned his head to see the remnants of past prisoners, limbs crushed and pulped by the relentless vines.
So this… was the justice he had spent his life pursuing.
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