Sirius sat on the cold stone floor of his Azkaban cell, eyes fixed on the man across from him, who repeatedly thumped his head against the stone wall.
“Your father’s a right prick,” Sirius muttered.
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Barty Crouch Jr. deadpanned.
Sirius let out a bitter huff. “I don’t think my own parents would’ve done what yours did.”
“No trial. Took the word of others. You didn’t do it… did you?” Barty’s tone was flat, almost accusatory, but not really.
Sirius said nothing.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Barty muttered, voice low and tense. “As soon as I get out. Moody, too, that piece of shit… killed my Rosie.”
Barty’s voice cracked.
“I’m sorry about Evan,” Sirius said quietly.
“And Regulus,” Barty added, eyes briefly meeting Sirius.
Sirius’ gaze hardened. “If I get out… I’m going to find Pettigrew. And I’m going to make him pay.”
Barty smirked faintly, a glimmer of approval in the dim light. “Revenge suits you, Black.”
