Barty Crouch Jr. opened his eyes to a dim, overcast sky and narrow brick walls on either side of him, both stained with spreading black patches of damp mold.
He sneered.
His so-called good father had abandoned him after all.
Even though he had been under the Imperius Curse, his memories remained perfectly intact.
Barty Crouch Sr. had secretly worked with the Fire Serpent Party, losing the powerful position he had fought so hard to obtain as Minister for Magic and instantly becoming a wanted criminal. Originally, Barty Crouch Sr. had planned to have Winky carry his son to safety, but after several transfers and likely fearing exposure to Aurors, he had coldly and decisively abandoned his own son halfway through their escape.
If Barty Crouch Jr.'s judgment was correct, this place was Plymouth.
He pushed himself upright and glanced toward the mouth of the narrow alley, watching people pass back and forth beyond it. A cruel expression twisted across his pale, tired face. The old man had actually abandoned him inside Muggle territory.
Without his wand, many of his most powerful spells were impossible to cast. He ground his teeth, forcing himself to suppress the urge to torment a few passing Muggles merely for his own amusement.
He steadied his breathing and stepped out of the alley.
How long had it been since he had last truly seen the sky, since being trapped by that wretched old man?
He tilted his head back and stared upward. Though the clouds were heavy, a faint and fragile light filtered through, and the sight made him sigh in satisfaction.
His real sun was not the sky.
His sun was his Master.
Yes, the most important thing now was to find his Master.
He paused, thinking for a moment, then turned and entered a nearby Muggle apartment building.
The hallways and stairwells were filthy and poorly maintained. Grime clung to the walls, and the stench of rotting household waste hung thickly in the air. Barty let out a soft, contemptuous snort. Muggles were truly inferior beings. They could not even cast the simplest cleaning spells and deserved, in his mind, to live among their own filth.
He suppressed the rising nausea and climbed the stairs until he reached a door that seemed long unused. A thin layer of dust lined the floor near the threshold.
"Alohomora."
He could only use a handful of spells without a wand, and this was one of them. He had learned it back in school when he used it to steal amusing objects from Filch's office. Learning to cast it wandlessly had been a precaution, so the professors would not detect traces of the unlocking charm on his wand.
The door opened.
Surprisingly, the interior of the apartment was neat and orderly.
He closed the door behind him.
Ten minutes later, he emerged again, now dressed in a clean shirt, trousers, a waistcoat, and a long trench coat. A gentleman's hat rested on his head. His pockets contained several hundred pounds. Although the apartment itself was modest, the family that had lived there had clearly been financially comfortable.
He raised his hand and hailed a taxi.
Soon, he was on his way toward Plymouth Harbor.
During his years at Hogwarts, Barty Crouch Jr. had been an outstanding student. In order to better understand Muggles, whom he considered natural enemies of wizardkind, he had devoted himself to Muggle Studies and consistently achieved top marks. Even after becoming a Death Eater, he had personally interrogated countless Muggles and gained a disturbingly thorough understanding of their habits and behaviors.
It was not surprising at all that he knew how to use a taxi.
When he arrived at the harbor, he paid the driver and stepped out of the car. He rubbed his nose in irritation.
"The transportation of inferior beings is truly revolting."
Through the Dark Mark burned into his arm, he could sense that his Master had already left Britain and was moving somewhere toward Eastern Europe. That meant he would need to travel by ship.
He stared at the massive cargo vessels docked in the harbor and sighed.
No matter how much he despised the method, this was the only transportation available to him.
Just as he began walking toward a cargo ship bound for France, a loud whistle cut through the air.
A large passenger ship slowly sailed into the harbor.
Barty Crouch Jr. suddenly stopped in his tracks.
At the bow of the ship, he saw several figures he recognized instantly.
Wizards.
Muggles did not wear long robes, nor did they openly carry wands at their sides.
Those wizards were clearly casting Muggle-Repelling Charms to keep curious onlookers away.
Barty's eyes narrowed, then brightened.
If he approached them, he might be able to steal a wand.
Not having one was unbearable.
By the time he reached the passenger ship, the wizards had already disembarked and were walking in small groups, chatting and laughing together. Though their faces showed traces of hardship, their spirits were surprisingly high.
Carefully, Barty moved closer.
"I heard that there are endless opportunities if you follow the Earl," one man said.
"It's true," another replied. "You remember that Chinese-Mauritian wizard, don't you? He was brought back to Britain by the Earl in November the year before last, and now he's already an Auror in the Ministry of Magic."
"There's nothing to do in France," someone else added. "I lived for three months on free food and housing, and I honestly felt guilty toward the Earl. Britain is better. At least we can help him and have a real future."
"You lot should stop calling him 'Earl,'" a woman said. "Minister Dantes is now the Minister for Magic. You should address him properly."
"You're right," they agreed.
Barty frowned.
Of course he knew of Earl Dantes.
This man now held nearly unmatched power in the British wizarding world.
In Barty's eyes, he would be the greatest obstacle when his Master finally returned.
He had always believed that Dumbledore was dangerous, but Dumbledore did not command an army of loyal followers in the same way.
How many people did Dantes control now?
The last time his father had mentioned it, was it four thousand?
Or five thousand?
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted.
He stiffened.
He had seen a familiar face.
Arya Avery.
What was she doing here?
Barty did not approach her immediately. Instead, he moved aside and pressed his thumb firmly against the Dark Mark branded into his forearm. His gaze remained locked on her.
A few seconds later, Arya Avery seemed to sense something. She turned her head and looked directly in his direction. She paused, murmured a few words to the person next to her, and then walked over.
"How are you here?" Arya asked quietly.
Barty's lips twitched faintly.
"I should be the one asking you that."
Arya let out a slow breath.
"Before this, I fled to France. I was determined to find the Master. You know I was never the clever one. I searched everywhere but found no trace of him."
Barty's expression softened slightly.
"At least you had the loyalty to search for him. That makes you better than those treacherous, two-faced cowards."
He then frowned.
"If that's the case, why didn't you stay in France to continue looking?" he asked. "Why did you come back to Britain?"
Arya leaned closer to his ear and whispered.
"Do you know Dark Dentis?"
Barty nodded.
Arya continued in a hushed voice. "I think he will be our greatest threat in the future. The Master wants to rule all of Britain, and this man will stand in the way. So I joined his side, pretending loyalty, to gather information from the inside."
Barty nodded in approval.
Although Arya had always seemed foolish after becoming a Death Eater, her loyalty was more genuine than most. The fact that she could recognize Dark Dentis as a danger to the Master showed that she was not completely hopeless.
"Very well," Barty said quietly. "You will stay by Dark Dentis's side and continue gathering intelligence."
He placed a hand briefly on Arya's shoulder.
"I will go and find the Master."
He paused, then added in a lower voice, "And lend me your wand. I only just broke free from that old bastard's control, and I don't have one with me."
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