Title: Prophecy, Lies, and Manhunts ( event 002 ) Date: December 6th Who: Open to Death Eaters
The cold December air whipped around the openings of his mask, the wind burning his skin. He stood high above a hill watching as the rest of the Death Eaters started to gather into their secret meeting place. It had often had to change in chance that others would find them. What they whispered about wasn’t necessarily the most popular opinion, but there were those who followed. Those who would almost do anything (and had) just to continue the legacy and word of Lord Voldemort. To wipe all the muggle and mugblood scum from this world. Those who were not worthy. Barty Crouch Junior believed in a world just as such. Coming from a long line of witches and wizards, he felt as if he was one of the most notable of them all, considering all the other family names of Death Eaters that attended this meeting. But Barty’s surname was the most unusual of them all. He was the son of the Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which meant, his father was responsible for a lot of these people’s family members going to Azkaban. (If they got caught, idiots, he thought).
The youngest Crouch smiled underneath his mask, one of the biggest smiles he had ever done in a while. He puffed his chest out as his cloak whipped around him when suddenly a gush of air wrapped around him. He snapped his fingers under the heavy wool, a loud boom! Barty apparated into the inside secret meeting spot. A few of the other Death Eaters started to pile in, none of them removing their masks but recognizing the each other by the second face they wore.
Barty had always been a loyal follower. It had always been harder on him to prove his loyalty than all the others. It was all his father’s fault. He just didn’t understand, he never did. Especially when it came to his own family. He didn’t bother to get to know his son and he left his wife an empty shell of a person. She no longer had interest and wasn’t sure who she was anymore. She had became a wife and mother early on, she had lost sight of who Patricia Goel was. Her new identification was a wife and mother. She no longer recognized the woman in the mirror anymore. She was older, with wrinkles, and hardly smiled. In his earliest memories of his mother, he remembered a dark hair woman, with sun kissed skin, dark soft eyes, and a joyful laugh. It all seemed like a dream at this point in his life.
Barty made his way towards the center of the room, but just far enough to not be completely in the way. He liked being close to the Dark Lord just in case he was to call upon him, but far enough to make sure he was keeping any eye on everyone in the room. Barty didn’t trust anyone, he felt as if he was the only person always on edge at this meethings. His odd ticks always revealing themselves more. Barty twitched, his shoulder jumping up slight as he started to chew on his bottom lip, running his tongue against it. It had been a habit as a teenager. The joy he received from the pain of gnawing until it bleed was just something that couldn’t be explained. It was a feeling.
He slunk into the shadows, chewing on his lip behind his mask until he felt someone brush past him. Barty straighten up his back, grunting softly under the metal, the silk ties around his ears loosening that held it up began to fall. His masked slipping off his face.
“Shit...” he muttered as he attempted to catch it before it hit the ground, turning his face away in reflex.