The Crouch Family's house had, at some point, become like a watery cave… cold, gloomy, and filled with nothing but a bone-chilling bitterness.
As the night wind rustled through the nearby birch trees, Barty Crouch Sr. dragged his exhausted body back home from the Ministry of Magic.
Or rather, he didn't actually step inside.
Ever since that incident five years ago, he had grown reluctant to return home.
In other words, he was reluctant to see that person in the house.
He undid the buttons of his robe, leaned against a tree by the front door, pulled out a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and stared blankly at the old mansion that now felt like a prison.
'When had this home become like this?'
Barty Sr. tried to recall.
Was it in the winter of 1982, when he had been horrified to discover that his once-proud son was also a despicable Death Eater?
Or was it in the winter of 1984, when his wife had been diagnosed by St. Mungo's as beyond all hope of recovery, left to wither away at home?
Or perhaps it was that same spring, when he had swapped that wretched beast out of Azkaban, only to realize that even his mother's sacrifice and his father's shattered reputation couldn't bring him back… forcing him to keep the boy under the Imperius Curse at home?
Five years might not seem long for a wizard, but for Barty Sr., it had been an unbearable stretch of time, so much so that he could barely remember what life had been like before.
Ever since the incident involving Severus Snape, he had been coming home later and later these days.
There was plenty of work at the Ministry that required his attention as the Head of Department. Though Barty Sr. knew full well he wasn't actually accomplishing much, as most of the time, he was just acting as a patcher.
Mending the messes that cropped up in the British Wizarding World, playing mediator between factions with political maneuvering, scraping together what little remained of his reputation to shield the Minister from blame.
And with everything that had happened recently, Barty Sr. was utterly exhausted.
He stubbed out his cigarette, his thoughts drifting back to the last time he had cast the Imperius Curse… two weeks ago.
At that time, he had just been tangled up in that potion-poisoning case, before the Head of Slytherin House at Hogwarts had gotten involved.
At the time, he had seen that wretched beast writhing under the curse, reduced to a trembling, sobbing wreck on the floor, crying out for his mother, while Winky knelt beside him, kowtowing and begging for mercy, saying he couldn't take it anymore.
He had thought, 'Fine, I'll give him a week's reprieve. Winky can keep an eye on him anyway.'
But then Severus had gotten dragged into the mess, throwing the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement into chaos. He barely knew what time he was coming home these days.
Once or twice, he had remembered to renew the Imperius Curse, only to find the wretched thing already asleep.
And so, it had been delayed until now.
Recently, Barty Sr. had begun to suspect that the leaks within the Auror Office might be connected to that beast.
His study at home contained numerous reports and materials submitted by Rufus Scrimgeour… enough to easily deduce the Aurors' movements.
Tonight, he could delay no longer.
Tightening his robe, Barty Sr. steeled himself and stepped inside.
However, just as he stepped into the hallway, he inexplicably felt that something seemed wrong!
Barty Sr. stopped, slowly drawing his wand from his sleeve as his eyes flicked to the wide-open window.
The night wind howled through the room, tossing the curtains wildly.
"Winky!" He called out.
But the house-elf, who would normally appear the instant her name was called, did not show herself.
The entire house was deathly silent, as if no living soul remained inside.
A sense of foreboding rose in Barty Sr.'s chest. His body tensed, his right hand gripping his wand tightly as he held it before him. He cast a Shield Charm on himself and began to inch forward, cautiously moving deeper into the house.
The living room was pitch black. The usually diligent house-elf was nowhere to be seen, so something must have happened to her. The place was in complete disarray, as if ransacked by thieves!
Just as Barty Sr. made his way up the stairs to the second floor, a sudden gust of wind blew in through the window, knocking over a coat stand in the corner.
The abrupt noise made him whirl around!
"I know it's you!" He shouted, "Barty!"
His voice echoed through the empty house, met with only silence… as if he truly were the only one inside.
But the moment he lowered his wand, the door to the study on the second floor swung open from inside!
A barrage of blinding red spells shot out, every single one striking Barty Sr. with deadly precision!
The first five spells shattered his Shield Charm instantly. The spells that followed slammed into his body!
The sheer force of the impact sent him flying backward, crashing hard against the wall before he crumpled onto the carpet.
His wand, ripped from his grip by a Disarming Charm, was nowhere to be seen. His body was rigid, completely paralyzed-
Yet his eyes remained fixed on the figures emerging from the study.
In the dim lamplight, a pale young man lounged in an ornate high-backed chair, one leg crossed over the other. His hair was unkempt, his white shirt and black suspenders rumpled. He twirled a wand between his fingers, his youthful face looking no older than twenty!
And around him, a group of men gathered!
Fenrir Greyback, Thorfinn Rowle, Bruno Selwyn, Dino Perkins-
Among them were the infamous werewolf, long-time fugitives the Ministry had failed to capture, those who had slipped through the cracks of the post-war trials, and ruthless Dark wizards!
But right now, all of them stood gathered around that beast… his son!
"Look, look, everyone!" The young man proclaimed loudly.
"This is my father! A bastard who used the Imperius Curse on his own son! A corrupt official who bends the law for his own gain! A hypocrite who preaches justice while breaking every rule! And now… a worthless insect, weak and pathetic!"
The crowd of criminals around him erupted in laughter!
Barty Sr.'s eyes were bloodshot. He stared at the young man… the one he had named after himself, the boy he had once been so proud of, the one he had placed all his hopes in. There was no pleading in his gaze, no sorrow.
Only a quiet, aching pity.
"So, how do you think I can repay him for taking care of me for the past five years?"
The young man said with a cruel smile as he raised his wand.