(Enchanting Melodies) Chapter 198: Crouching Tiger (Patreon)
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Chapter 198: Crouching Tiger
28 February 1994, Ministry of Magic, London
Bartemius Crouch was aware that his recent habit of lingering in his Ministry office was excessive, even by his own measures. Many of his coworkers would say he seldom rushed to return home, and they were entirely correct. After all, there was nothing at home that he looked forward to.
He had lost his son to the Dark Lord, a shame that still followed him for years. The boy died in a foolish attempt to follow the orders of a dead man, and perished, just a name amongst thousand, in the disaster that was Godric’s Hollow. His wife, the light of his life, died soon after, from a severe case of Dragon Pox. Bartemius knew that she could have fought it but had just given up.
There was nothing left at home for him, just an empty house, a half-mad elf, and painful memories. Committing himself to his work fully was better than remembering his failures, both as a father, a husband, and as a war-time commander.Bottom of Form
But that didn’t mean that he enjoyed the endless paperwork he had to deal with. It was just a chore, one that the last surviving member of the Crouch family definitely did not enjoy. However, it was known that the higher one rose in the ministry, the higher the pile of parchment grew over their desk.
This day was particularly bad. Well, this entire quarter was bad, altogether, because Dumbledore decided to make a national event on a whim. And since the man lost his position as the Supreme Mugwump, the minister was very leery of giving the position to someone else – probably waiting for a substantial enough bribe to do so – but as the Head of the Department of International Cooperation, Bartemius was saddled with the responsibilities of the position.
The Department's Head shook his head in consternation. Cursing Fudge had never felt so tempting.
But no, this wasn’t the end of it. For some ungodly reason, it was decided that the Quidditch World Cup, the European Magical Tournament, were happening in Britain on the same year. Both projects were proposed by Crouch to revitalize the economy and include Britain in the European political scene. It would have been a nice cap in his career, but he did it, mostly, because his wife loved history, and she adored the Tri-Wizard tournament and the challenges the champions wanted to make. The Quidditch World Cup was a no-brainer since it was a guarantee of income and would attract potential investors into the country, something that magical Britain sorely needed.
The entire nation was not considered safe since the seventies, and the ICW had washed their hands of the British Isles completely. Both events would been good opportunities. However, he did not want to have them in the same year, especially just after a massive prison breakout…
The entire thing was literally a logistical nightmare that the last Crouch could see Dumbledore’s fingerprints all over. This had literally quadrupled his workload, since he had to make sure that the Department of Magical Sports and Games didn’t screw up. Again.
Sometimes, he marveled at the decision of electing Ludo Bagman of all people as the head of a department. The fact that the man was a gambling addict and was drowning in debt was a badly kept secret that everyone from the lowest paper-pushed to the minister himself knew about. Amelia Bones tried many times to arrest the man, or at least get him fired, especially when he was found to selling inside information, and making bets using news that he was only privy to because of his position. The man ended up paying a substantial fine to make the whole thing go away, and Fudge didn’t want any talk of corruption in his administration, so he buried everything, put his hand in the sand, and pretended the whole thing never happened.
Dumbledore’s little forgive and forget policy that he kept preaching about for half a century had somehow made an entire generation see the world in rose-tinted glasses. At least it was coming to bite him in the ass with the whole Potter fiasco.
What was the man thinking, trying to demonize a thirteen-year-old boy in front of the Wizengamot in an obvious attempt to remain as his guardian, hoping to scare the Wizengamot, or even the general public into getting what he wanted. It was a somewhat common tactic that Dumbledore used. It was always the same whenever he tried to pass or oppose a bill, he scared people with vague promises of disasters should he not get his way, and that it was all for the peace or prosperity of the nation. The Traditionalist faction often opposed this through pure bribery or sometimes even Blackmail, to counteract Dumbledore’s plans. But to do it on a child, one that, no matter how magically powerful he was, was just distasteful.
Bartemius was in the Wizengamot watching the injustice until the unthinkable happened and the boy started doing the same to Dumbledore. It was a wonderful thing to see in person, especially since it was him who demonized Barty and revealed to the world his son’s allegiance, just to kick him out of office.
He never really liked Dumbledore. The man was too passive and secretive. He always liked to say that he tried to avoid positions of power since he turned away the position of minister, but he had the ears of half the ministry. When Barty refused to follow his ‘suggestions’ during the war in his time as head of the DMLE, the man had destroyed his career in exchange. Why the hell would anyone even suggest using nonlethal magics against terrorists that actively tried to kill law enforcement. The entire thing rubbed him the wrong way and would have probably crippled the Auror department even more than in currently was.
It showed in the way he saw students fight in the dueling championship that Dumbledore arranged. Bartemius was invited as part of Fudge’s retinue for the event, a waste of time more than anything else, especially since he had to return to his office to finish his actual work, which ended up with him going home after midnight for over a week.
The entire School Tournament concept was obviously an easy way for Dumbledore to make up the gold he lost while building his new prison. It was the reason why third year students and NEWT students were competing against each other. It was the reason why participation was mandatory. The parents’ tickets alone would pile up into a fortune, and what parent wouldn’t give up a couple of Galleons to watch their children compete. No one ever called him out on his bullshit, and for good reason. Every person who publicly criticized Dumbledore tended to suffer a rather long unlucky streak until they disappeared into obscurity.
Still, the Potter boy had to have balls of steel to embarrass Dumbledore so much. Winning the first task with a few simple spells and getting to the quarterfinals of the second task without even casting more than two spells in every duel, just made a mockery of the whole event, and with it, Dumbledore. But to forfeit because he thought that the whole event was ‘a drag’ was just the cherry on top. Because what Dark Lord wouldn’t fight because it was too troublesome? The entire fearmongering campaign that Dumbledore started with the boy’s guardianship hearing just fell apart with that little statement. Potter turned from a potential dark lord to a lazy intelligent boy that found loopholes because he wouldn’t put in the effort to do it properly, especially when he’s being forced to compete.
Bartemius had stifled the urge to cackle in laughter at the headmaster obviously trying to reign in his temper at the boy’s statement. The memory alone put a rare smile on his face.
It was then that he picked up a small folder, thinking that it was a usual boring report that he had to go through, but his eyes widened when he recognized the secrecy enchantments on it; these documents were from the Department of Mysteries.
The last Crouch never really liked the department and he never attempted to even have a shard of influence there. It was just too secretive, and people, including the minister, never really knew what happened there, aside from a few sparse comments from the department head, Saul Croaker. Augustus Rookwood’s reveal as a Death Eater proved that their security measures could be bypassed anyway and soured any opinion he had of the department’s competence.
The whole thing was just too shady for Barty’s tastes, and it was probably one of the biggest reasons there weren’t really any opposition or pushback when his son’s treachery was discovered.
Not that he cared.
He would gladly burn his career to the ground for an extra day with his wife and son.
Still, the file’s title was already ominous. Project Medusa.
By the time he had finished with the file, he was equal part fascinated as he was horrified. What in Merlin’s name were those unspeakable doing? Barty knew that he had pushed the line of morality when he allowed Aurors to cast any spell without repercussions as long as they hit a confirmed death eater that had a ‘kill order’ in the last war. More than a few innocent people lost their lives at the hands of his Aurors, but the results spoke to themselves: Death Eater attacks were down 50% and there was a very large drop in Death Eater recruitment.
But if this file was right, if war was coming… Project Medusa would help.
Damn his pragmatism.
He would hate himself for it, but he had to approve the project.
His hands were already stained with blood. What were a few more drops going to change?
He had nothing left. He had no one to pass on his legacy and wouldn’t betray his wife’s memory enough to change that. He had no friends, no true political prospects. Would this cement his name in history? Or would he be painted as a monster for allowing this travesty to go through.
What did Dumbledore like to say. Ah, yes. For the Greater Good.
Crouch put his quill into the ink sack, ready to sign and file the proposal, only for a soft voice to speak up, “I would really rather you didn’t.”
After years of experience as an Auror, his reflexes flared again, and he sent a curse towards the voice. Somehow, the spell went through the intruder, and in his shock, he didn’t realize that a hand made him smell a weird cloth. His eyes widened when he realized what it was, a paralyzing potion.
Deciding to see his attacker, Barty clumsily turned towards him, only to pale when he saw a simple mask with a smiling face drawn in blood. The smiling killer. He was dead then…
“Ickle Barty. You’ve been a naughty boy, accepting this little proposal…”
It took a fraction of a second for the man to connect the dots, “You’re part of…”
“I wasn’t at first, but I have to admit that they were very convincing. So, don’t worry, they weren’t involved in my previous murders. That was all me.”
“The project…”
The serial killer shrugged, “The project will go through even without your approval. The Unspeakables are very proud of that one and will just go to another department to support them. Looks like I’m going to be busy in the near future.”
“So,” he rasped, “You’re afraid that it will succeed.”
“If you think this was some trump card we can’t counter, then you’re very much mistaken. This is like a small pebble in a shoe, annoying but not really something dangerous. Don’t blame the Unspeakables too much. You were going to die anyway. You were going to be troublesome in the future anyway. This proposal just accelerated things a bit. So, don’t take it so personally.”
“You’ll lose…”
The laugh he got in response disturbed him greatly, “Oh, honey. I don’t want to win. I just want everyone else to lose…”
The monster in human skin slowly walked with a knife in his hands. He froze just a few centimeters from Barty’s face, “How peculiar. You’re not afraid…”
“Why would I be? I’ll get to see my wife again soon…”
“Whatever floats your boat, I guess,” then the voice turned sinister, and Crouch couldn’t help but shiver despite the paralytic, “So, Barty dear, why don’t you give us a smile?”