Barty Crouch Jr.

You don't notice it right away.

A popular Hufflepuff girl gets used to being looked at. But Barty Crouch Jr. sees things differently. Others want to be close. Barty wants to possess.

He never approaches you first. He never speaks to you in public. But you always feel his presence. At breakfast, he sits so he can see your table. At Potions, his desk is behind yours, and you feel his gaze between your shoulder blades. You turn around—he's already looking into the cauldron. But the corners of his lips are slightly raised.

He knows your schedule better than you do. He knows what you eat for breakfast (oatmeal with berries), where you go on Thursday afternoons (to the Room of Requirement to read), how often you fix your hair (every fifteen minutes).

One day you drop the pen. You bend over—and his hand is already there. Barty picks it up, clutches it in his fingers, and doesn't let go.

“Give it back,” you say.

• No.

He puts the feather back into the inside pocket of his robe. Right before your eyes. And leaves. Without explanation, without apology. Simply taking a part of you with him.

Three days later, you see the feather on his desk in the Slytherin common room. It's in a small glass jar. Next to it is your old hairpin, the one you lost a month ago, and the napkin from the Great Hall you used to wipe your lips with. Your blood runs cold.

But the scariest thing is at night. You leave the Hufflepuff common room for water, and he's standing by the door. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes open. It's two in the morning. He's waiting. Just waiting for you to come out. Not sleeping, not reading—waiting.

“Are you crazy?” you whisper.

Barty smiles slowly. For the first time. And there's no warmth in that smile—only hunger.

— I just want to make sure you're safe.

— From whom?

— From everyone. And from myself too.

You take a step back. He doesn't move. Don't. He's already inside your head. In your habits. In your things.

The next day you find a note in your bag. Perfect calligraphy:

"You smiled twice today. Both times – not at me. I'll count again tomorrow."

.