<div align="center"><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Barty Crouch Jr</strong></span></div><hr/><br/>Bartemius Crouch, senior, was a rare sight at the dinner table these days. Bartemius Crouch, junior, enjoyed that fact, though it did make his mother impossible to be around. Tonight wasn’t an exception – his father hadn’t even bothered to firecall to say he would be late home. Winky had made his dinner and placed it at the head seat where it congealed slowly.<br/><br/>His mother stared at the empty chair, her food as untouched as his father’s. She was becoming thinner, Barty noted as he skewered a piece of beef with his fork.<br/><br/>The silence of the house was a crushing weight. It was almost as bad as when his father was in the room. It was the same every night. No conversation, no connection, just the awful silence. It would drive him insane, he knew it. He had been use to it as a child, but he had spent seven year in close quarters with dozens and dozens of other wizarding children at Hogwarts – had only just graduated a few months ago. He had learnt to dislike the silence very, very much.<br/><br/>The thought of moving out and taking residence elsewhere crossed his mind for the hundredth time, but if he left it would cause a scandal. Being his father’s son he was high on the theoretical Death Eater hit list, and moving out of his ancestral home would make him vulnerable. If he did move out, he would be watched from afar by Aurors, and if he didn’t get attacked people would become suspicious…<br/><br/>There was also the fact that he had to hear what his father said, if and when he showed up. There would be no way of knowing when his father was home if Barty wasn’t living under the same roof.<br/><br/>As stifling as it was, leaving was not an option.<br/><br/>He tried to ease it, and cleared his throat. His mother jumped and turned hazel eyes on him, not quite focused. “You should try the pie, mother. Winky’s cooking is stellar tonight.”<br/><br/>She blinked and nodded slightly. “Just as soon as your father sits down, Barty. I’m sure he’ll love it.”<br/><br/>“I think he’s too busy in the office to get back before it’s ruined.”<br/><br/>She looked at her plate. “Perhaps you’re right. He does very important work. We must respect that, Barty. The Ministry need him more than we do.”<br/><br/>He wondered if she thought she was like her, pining for his father’s presence. It was sickening to imagine it. He tried to swallow his bile before he responded, “I know mother. But don’t you think father would want you to eat?”<br/><br/>“I think… I think he will be pleased I waited. Eating alone is so… so heartbreaking.”<br/><br/>Barty blinked. “You’re not alone, mother.”<br/><br/>She smiled at him, sad and distant. “Darling, I meant your father. It is too much to ask that he works so long, so hard, and to be faced with a meal to be eaten alone.”<br/><br/>They stared at each other for a long moment, Barty trying hard not to lash out at her verbally, his mother’s smile fading until her usual, vacant expression returned.<br/><br/>His arm suddenly throbbed, his brand tingling with power. His Master was calling, and he was extraordinarily pleased. Barty tried not to twitch or clasp his arm. He drank a little of his wine and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I don’t feel like eating, either. Perhaps all three of us will have a late supper.”<br/><br/>“Oh Barty!” his mother exclaimed breathlessly, as if overjoyed he shared her desire to comfort his father. “What a marvellous idea! Winky!” The house-elf appeared with a crack and curtsied. “Winky, we will all be eating as soon as Barty comes home.”<br/><br/>“Yes Mistress,” squeaked the elf, and started to take the plate away.<br/><br/>Barty stood, the summoning pulse growing in strength. It almost hurt, now. “Mother, I am going to The Leaky Cauldron, I remember some friends have drinks there tonight.”<br/><br/>His mother nodded, still smiling happily. “Take care dear, London is thick with You-Know-Who’s supporters.”<br/><br/>“Yes, Mother.”<br/><br/>He turned and strode quickly through the large, ancient house, rushing to his room and fetching his Death Eater robes and mask from their hiding place. He hid them and bounded down the stairs, to the fireplace.<br/><br/>He Flooed to the pub, then walked out into Diagon Alley, not slowing until he reached Knockturn. From there, he apperated to just outside a disused farm on the North-West moors to put on his robe and mask before going to where the summons was urging him to.<br/><br/>He didn’t expect to be summoned to a graveyard, but he didn’t pause to look around. He was late, but wasn’t yet among the last to arrive. The others were unmasked. He took his usual position and knelt, bowing his head. “Master,” he murmured reverently before he rose, leaving his mask in place.<br/>