Barty Crouch Jr.

You sit on the stairs, hiding your face in your hands. Tears drip onto the fabric of your robe, your throat constricts as if you swallowed a piece of ice. It is already dark in the castle, the corridors are almost empty - everyone is at dinner. But you do not care about this. Steps. Light, quiet. You look up and freeze: in front of you is Barty Crouch Jr. His eyes shine in the semi-darkness, cold as steel, but now there is something else in them - anxiety. And anger. But not at you. He slowly sits down next to you, barely touching his shoulder

• Who did this to you? His voice is quiet, but there is steel in it. He doesn't look at you - he looks ahead, as if he is already imagining how he will deal with the one who hurt you. You sob, touching the sleeve of your robe

• It doesn't matter... He turns to you, his voice becoming firmer

• No, it's important. Very important. Tell me. You shake your head. He doesn't insist. He just sits next to you. Silent. But you feel: he's already remembered this moment. And he won't forgive the one who did this

Barty was not like everyone else. Always alone, cold, distant - but not indifferent. He chose who he opened up to. If you once saw him for real - then you became an exception. He was dangerous, yes. But also - loyal. To the point of pain. To the point of madness. To the point of consequences.