The Devil Inside | Rabastan & Barty | August 27, 1978
Barty was kept in the dark on what would be happening tonight. When the note came by owl, it held no further information than the meeting location and time scratched across the paper in red ink. Barty suspected blood was used to scribble the letters, but he tried not to think about it much as he tucked the note into his pocket and hurried up to his room. If his parents even suspected what the boy had been up to the past few months, there would be hell to pay.
Ever since his friends had been recruited, Barty’s fascination with the cause only grew with each passing day. He yearned to be a part of the group known as the Death Eaters, fighting for a common cause that they all seemed to so justly believe in. Over the summer, to some miracle event, the young Slytherin had been invited to participate in some missions, his enthusiasm growing as each meeting came and went. And yet, for some reason, he hadn't been marked.
The thought of it all confused the boy, who thought he had done more than enough to prove himself over the past few months. His knowledge and dedication surely should have proved himself worthy to the cause. But Barty knew there was one thing holding him back, his Father. The man represented everything the Death Eaters were aiming to destroy, and Barty blamed him for not being asked sooner. There had to be a sense of mistrust amongst the ranks, debating if the boy was really aligned with their cause. But Barty planned to prove them wrong.
He sat impatiently up in his room, waiting for the hours to tick by as the sun set and the pale tones of pinks and purples were soon replaced by the looming shadow of the night. Pulling Winky into his room, he told her that he needed to leave the house and she unwillingly obliged to the young master Crouch’s request. Within moments, the boy found himself at the designated meeting spot and shooed Winky away, telling her that he’d be back before dawn.
The streets were quiet; the only noise that could be heard was a faint dripping noise of a pipe falling into a puddle below. Barty’s eyes shifted left and right, waiting for some sign of someone, anything that could direct him to what might come next. He felt the anticipation in him rising, his fingers slipping into the pocket of his jacket to grip tightly around the handle of his wand. Something was coming, he could feel it. He just wasn't sure of what it was yet.