Ron swallowed hard before beginning his tale. It was one of the rare times he had seen his father so serious and so grave. It was as if his father was worried about something. Something significant.
"Well… Dad!" Ron started, with a stammer in his voice. "Me and Hermions ran into the woods, just like you told us to, but when we got deeper into the woods, I started to feel, you know, a bit scared. It was dark and there was very little moonlight filtering though because of the dense foliage."
Arthur gave a brief nod for him to continue.
"Even so, we kept running," Ron continued, his voice becoming more sombre. "But not long after we reached that clearing, we heard this low, deep grunt. Then suddenly, the forest in front of us lit up with this greenish glow and the dark mark appeared in the sky."
Arthur nodded again, silently urging him to go on. This was not the part he was most interested in, but he did not interrupt. Knowing Ron's tendency to forget or jumble details, Arthur needed him to recount it in full. He did not want to miss any details.
"We were terrified and frightened. We did not really know what to do. We thought that the man who had fired the spell might come for us and we stumbled to run back towards the direction of the tents ," Ron said.
"We were just about to run when a group of people, along with Mr. Barty Crouch Sr. appeared right in front of us."
"I was actually relieved thinking that since he had met us in the afternoon, he would recognize us," Ron continued. "But No. He did not recognise me or Hermione. Instead he directly started to accuse us of casting the spell. He was not even willing to let us explain our side."
His expression tightened as he recalled the moment. He had been so frightened. The last time he felt such fear was when he had seen the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets with his own eyes.
"He was especially harsh with Hermione when she denied it," Ron continued. "I think he even threatened to have her arrested."
Arthur's jaw clenched slightly, though he gave no outward reaction beyond a slow nod. He was not surprised.
Barty Crouch Sr. was no Death Eater, quite the opposite, in fact. He was a known hater of the death eaters. He had been at the forefront of their prosecution after the fall of the Dark Lord, even going so far as to send his own son to Azkaban. That move of his where he had conducted the hearing against his own son had solidified Barty's image and a lot of his failures as the DMLE head was covered. Even though he was transferred from being a DMLE head to a lower position, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, it had not been considered a disgrace or a tarnish on his reputation.
But those who truly knew Barty Crouch Sr. also knew the truth. He was as much a pure blood supremacist as many of the very people he condemned. Just that he had never been personally involved in a violent movement to kill the muggle born, or the so-called 'impure blood.'
And on top of that, Crouch harbored a particular dislike for Harry Potter. Not really for Harry Potter but for the title Potter. Thus, his harshness toward Hermione, a muggle born witch and Harry's close friend was sadly unsurprising.
"What happened next?" Arthur asked in a slow tone. This was the part he had been waiting for.
"Yes," Ron said, forcing his mind to focus. "Harry arrived at that exact moment, when Hermione had been arguing with Mr. Crouch and she immediately ran towards him and hugged him."
At that, a flicker of jealousy, almost hatred, crossed Ron's face. Arthur noticed it but said nothing. The closeness between Harry and Hermione had been evident for some time, and it was clear they were not making much effort to hide it.
"I think Mr. Crouch did not take being ignored by Hermione very well," Ron continued. "He pointed his wand at them and started shouting something about being mocked by her."
"But then, suddenly, it was like a mysterious force appeared. A suffocating pressure descended on us and our knees went weak. And all of us except Harry and Hermione were forced on the ground." Ron said in a trembling voice. "After that, Harry said something, I did not understand what it was but he was angry about Hermione being disrespected by Mr. Crouch."
"It was so difficult to even raise our necks but somehow I managed it. And when I looked up again, there was this huge phantom of an animal standing behind Harry. It was as if I was in an illusion."
"It was…" Ron struggled to find words, but Arthur interrupted softly, his gaze distant.
"Pitch black," he said. "With glowing red eyes and a pair of enormous wings."
Ron's eyes widened in shock.
"Dad," he almost shrieked. "How do you know that? Do you know what it was?"
Then, with a sudden eagerness he questioned, "Was it a spell? Can I do it too? It was so cool and so… frightening."
His tone shifted again to fear as he tried to describe what he had felt.
"When it appeared, it was like I felt…" He faltered, clearly unable to express it.
But Arthur finished for him, his own voice low and shaking, "It felt like death was staring at you."
Ron froze, listening as Arthur went on, almost in a trance.
"It felt like death could touch you at any moment; that the next breath you took might be your last," Arthur continued, his words trembling with a kind of reverent dread. "It was as if the entire world around you screamed of death, its power, its inevitability, its greatness."
Beads of cold sweat glistened on Arthur's forehead.
"It made you want to surrender to worship death itself," he whispered.
"Yes, Dad," Ron replied. "That is… that is exactly how it felt."
"What was it, Dad?" he pressed eagerly. "You must know! What was that thing? And can I learn to do it too?"
But Arthur was not listening anymore. His eyes were distant, lost in thought, his fingers trembling slightly.
"I hope you are right, Albus," he muttered under his breath. "Otherwise, we are all doomed."
"You have been playing with fire, Albus," he mumbled. "And it will engulf us all."
"Death is the new path," he whispered, to himself. "That is what the Potters used to say, after all."
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