#th:barty

[thesnakesquill-blog]

“A good friend will always stab you in the front.”

“A good friend will always stab you in the front.”

Her eyebrows knit together as she shook her head slightly. "Pretty sure that's not a real quote. Who exactly told you that?"

[thesnakesquill-blog]

➸

[text] Barty: Barty, have I ever told you how smart you are? Absolutely brilliant. And nice, really. And not the obnoxiously blatant kind of nice that people only use so other people think well of them.

[text] Barty: So how willing would you be to lend me your Charms notes from the class I missed?

[thesnakesquill-blog]

❌

“He’s an absolute wackjob, I swear. Do people even listen to some of the things he says? How can anyone agree with him?”

[thesnakesquill-blog]

“I hope I'm making myself very clear.” // “What do you get out of a relationship anyway?” // “This isn't helping, really.”

“I hope I'm making myself very clear.”

Rita nodded repeatedly, still stuck rigid where she'd been caught standing too close to the cracked open door. It was a rare moment when she hadn't thought ahead, and her usual explanations for her eavesdropping had suddenly run clear out of her mind after what she overheard. "Perfectly. I won't tell anyone."

“What do you get out of a relationship anyway?”

Rita didn't answer at first, just folded over the pages of the Prophet and held it out for Barty to see what the lead story was about. A couple who had built a home for homeless wizards together. "The front page."

“This isn't helping, really.”

Rita let out a sigh of defeat and took up a seat across the table from Barty and some of the other Slytherins. "Rodulpha Septillia said pumpkin juice and coffee mixed together cured hangovers. I suppose if anyone will prove it wrong, it's you lot."

[thesnakesquill-blog]

❝ Oh? Excuses not on sale today? ❞ // ❝ Yes! That is what I said! Oh dear, do my locutions confuse? ❞ // ❝ It seems like it was only yesterday. Actually, it was only yesterday. ❞ // ❝ Hey! Why do I have to be the villain? ❞ // ❝ Maybe it’s broken? ❞ // ❝ Too bad they don’t have a test for common sense. ❞ // ❝ Hmm? Haven’t I seen you somewhere…? ❞

❝ Oh? Excuses not on sale today? ❞

"You're one to talk. I know where you really were during the Transfiguration exam. I could report you to the Headmaster for what you were doing."

❝ Yes! That is what I said! Oh dear, do my locutions confuse? ❞

"Not at all. You'll find my vernacular is, um...damn it." Writing eloquently came as naturally as breathing to her, but speaking...there was still work to be done.

❝ It seems like it was only yesterday. Actually, it was only yesterday. ❞

"I know, Barty, I was there. I was taking pictures for the school newspaper."

❝ Hey! Why do I have to be the villain? ❞

"It was my favorite quill and you broke it. That cost me all my birthday galleons!"

❝ Maybe it’s broken? ❞

She gave the door another shove, only for it not to give. This was what she got for trying to go snooping through a professor's office. "Maybe. Look, we're going to get caught, so we might as well just come up with an alibi for why we were here before that happens."

❝ Too bad they don’t have a test for common sense. ❞

"Dumbledore isn't that bad." That was an absolute lie about her opinion on the man. She knew anyone over the age of fifty was hiding a dark secret, and she wasn't nothing more than to unveil them. "Look, just...break into his office and try to find the answer key. Maybe he matched it up wrong with your test."

❝ Hmm? Haven’t I seen you somewhere…? ❞

"Um, we've been in the same house and classes for six years."

[thesnakesquill-blog]

☠

She was someplace where she shouldn’t have been, again. That was where she always seemed to be: where she wasn't allowed. Normally it got her the answers she wanted, or the answers she needed to give to others to be told she'd done a good job. The sneaking was fun, yes, but she always had to be careful, always had to make sure to look over her shoulder, and sometimes...sometimes she missed what was coming up right in front of her.

There was a puddle of something, first. Deep enough that even though it soaked through the carpet, there was still a little splash. Rita froze. In the darkness, she couldn't see anything, but she could still feel, and whatever she stepped in wasn't water. A drop had flown up and hit her ankle, and she could feel it rolling down her skin, going too slow to be water and feeling far, far too warm. With a shaking hand, she withdrew her wand from her robe and raised it, somehow getting out, "Lumos," as her lips already began to quiver.

He was silver for a moment in the light. His pale skin was glowing and his hair looked to be made of some spun metallic substance. For a moment he looked so ethereal she almost didn't recognize him, but the second she did, a strangled scream escaped her lips.

"Barty!" she shouted, immediately falling to her knees and trying to see if he had a pulse. She knew he couldn't hear her; she knew there was no pulse. But that was what you did when someone died, right? Even when you knew they were long gone? You still acted like they were there, like there was hope, for just long enough for it to be acceptable to anyone who appeared next.

The light was starting to fade from her wand, and she quickly cast the spell again so it grew brighter, in a quick flash. It was like the flash of a camera, and she could then see the black and white photo of this very scene tomorrow morning. It'd be all over the Daily Prophet. Her mind always went there first, once the survivial responses of panic and fear subsided enough. What was the story? What would be the angle? Would it help or hinder the investigation? This had to be a murder...or was it a suicide? Would she be asked for commentary? What would her commentary be?

"A smart young man, yes. We weren't very close, but everyone in our house knew about him. He had to be one of the smartest kids in school, but he didn't seem to care. I'm an observant person, I like to watch people. I knew he was a bit...strange. But isn't everyone? Shouldn't've gotten him killed."