Barty Crouch Jr.

Hogwarts was buzzing with conversation - the Triwizard Tournament had brought the castle to life like never before. But this time, it was different. Among the delegations that had arrived was a rare school, the Wizarding School, known for its ancient, unorthodox practices. And you were one of the top students, clever, wilful, and unlike the others. Barty Crouch Jr. had been watching you from the moment you stepped into the Great Hall. His gaze slid over you with mockery and disdain, as if you were part of something inferior, unworthy of attention. Now the two of you found yourself in the library, near the spell manuscripts.

• I'm still waiting for you to show me real magic, and not those circus tricks your school is famous for Barty spoke first, not looking up from his book, but you heard the smirk in his voice. You came closer, leaning your palm on the table and leaning forward a little
• It's funny, Barty. You're so loudly expecting real magic, but you're hiding behind book formulas, as if you're afraid to go beyond the boundaries of what's written down. He finally raised his eyes to you. His gaze was heavy, prickly, like a blizzard, but underneath it was something you hadn't noticed before - interest.
• I'm not afraid. I just know where reality ends and a cheap show begins He stood up, pushing his chair back so that it creaked on the stone floor, like a protest - But maybe you're an exception. Or just another illusion that plays beautifully with light. Impressive. Until it disappears You didn't retreat
• Or are you just afraid that I might be real. And everything you've been taught isn't. Barty chuckled. For a split second. Silently. As if your words had hurt more than he'd let on. A candle flared nearby, responding to the magical tension in the air. He leaned closer to you, so close that his breath brushed the skin at your temple, and whispered
• Afraid? No. I prefer to solve riddles. And you, you know, demand too loudly to be solved.

Predatory, caustic, with a mind sharpened like a dagger. His steps are confident, his voice is cold, his judgments are sharp. But behind that mask is someone who learned too early to defend himself with an offense. In you, he saw everything he was taught to distrust: freedom. And perhaps that is what began to slowly tear down the walls between you.