Barty Crouch, Jr. is not Oedipus Rex. (culling) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-09-14 23:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1979-09] september, barty crouch jr, barty crouch sr |
Who: The Barty Crouches, Senior and Junior.
Where: The Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
When: Sunday, 14th September 1979; night.
What: Barty Jr. sees to a request from his Mummy Dearest; workaholic Senior is a workaholic.
Rating: PG.
Warnings: Omg, Senior was NICE.
Status: Complete log.
Given the choice, Barty would not have elected to come to the Ministry under circumstances, but he did not rightly have a choice, at the moment, or, failing that, then these circumstances were decidedly not normal. Technically, he supposed that the latter was the truer statement: ostensibly, he did have a choice in this matter, but Mother had made a request of him when he had gone to visit her after work, and he could not deny her anything, even when she was not in her present and pregnant state. If she was worried for Father's health and safety, then Barty was going to see to it that her anxieties were put to rest. After all, Father had said that he was fine, but Barty took his words with a considerable grain of salt to begin with, much less when his attempted purpose was to keep Mother from worrying; that considered, though, the man had been bleeding and, if he had been in the battle, then there was no way in which he was fine.
As usual, Barty was met with the usual lack of resistance in coming in to the Ministry; it was all a process that he knew too well -- see the Welcome Witch, get the badge ("Bartemius Crouch Junior, visiting overworked father"), go downstairs, say hellos to any secretaries who hadn't yet gone home, and look around for Father. ...Only he did not make himself evident at first. Barty failed to see how such a thing was possible; Father was a large man and he was no doubt still working; he should have shown himself quite quickly.
It was not until Barty peeked inside Rufus Scrimgeour's office and saw Father sleeping in a hammock (what on earth was a hammock doing inside the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? Honestly.) that he understood why he had not seen the man. Exhaustion was more than evident on Father's person -- and, despite himself, Barty could not help but wonder if Antonin had felt similarly when coming to abduct him from Grindylow Gardens -- and he looked disheveled, which was in and of itself quite off. Perhaps, it was better to just let him sleep. Sighing softly, Barty maneuvered around the mess and piles of paperwork, knelt by the hammock, and began silently performing the standard diagnostic spells. Hopefully, there would not be anything too terrible to repair.
Senior had been running around since he had gotten back into the office trying to figure out what had happened, figure out where everyone was, who was injured, if anyone needed help, if everyone at Hogwarts was alright, make sure his staff didn’t collapse. He had gotten a few odd looks so far, but ignored them. He did not have time for appearances right now, nor did he have time to worry about the burns on his right arm, or the cuts across his left arm and the fact that every time he moved his arm his shoulder flared up and hurt a lot more than he was used to.
It wasn’t until a lot later that someone finally noticed that he was flagging slightly and he was more or less pushed to go rest, in the hammock of all things. He was tired, but he wanted to keep working and so he resisted at first, it was not until he fell asleep over his papers for a few moments that he realized that he needed some rest. A short kip for an hour or two would serve him fine for the time being. He could take a day off after everything had settled down a little bit more.
He was asleep as soon as he settled into the hammock.
He woke up some time later when he heard something and he started, sitting up quickly, only to almost lose his balance when he had forgotten that he was in the hammock but managed to get it in time. He blinked, focusing a little bit as he spotted Bartemius sitting there.
“Your mother sent you,” he said as more of a statement rather than a question.
Barty was, perhaps, a bit startled when Father awoke so violently -- at least, he was startled enough rock back from his previous position and to stare in silence at the man for a few, brief moments. He recovered quickly enough, he thought, and, despite the fact that talking to Father while performing the diagnostics was a potential distraction, Barty saw no reason not to do so. Father had asked him a question after all, and, besides, he had performed diagnostic spells while reassuring patients before. What was Father right now, if not another patient being seen outside of a hospital setting?
"Of course she did," he said softly, his expression shifting slightly as he interpreted the various results of his tests. "She had expected to see you this morning, and you weren't there. Seph came by to see her, so she was not entirely alone before I arrived, but she still misses you particularly and I did not tell her about the blood, but she remained worried nevertheless." Finishing up with the diagnostics, Barty paused and sighed. A fair amount of rather angry-looking cuts -- no doubt, Father hadn't disinfected them yet; luckily, Barty had a spare container of disinfectant salve and bandages on his person -- second-degree burns on his arms -- luckily, Barty had also grabbed burn salve from the pharmacy -- and the man had done something to your shoulder.
"I do suppose that you will wish for me not to tell her what injuries you've suffered."
"I know," he said rubbing over his face as he relaxed back, not really caring much for personal appearances at the moment as he was still much more tired than he had wanted to be. He yawned, hiding it behind a hand as he listened to the boy speak and he nodded his head. "I know, I'll try to make it home when I can," he replied easily even though he knew he probably wasn't going to be able to. "Good," he said nodding his head as he shifted, moving to the side, feet on the ground and he grimaced, shoulder pulling slightly as he moved to stand up.
"Right, that would be the best. Although if she asks about my shoulder say I just raised my arm to far," he said easily. "She'll know what I'm talking about," he said rubbing the injured part as he looked a little closer at Barty. "Healers did a good job for you, good; I trust you're not going to inform her that you were injured?" he asked.
Barty shook his head solemnly and pursed his lips. "Of course I am not going to tell her," he agreed. "I was healed completely, and the only thing that has lingered is that my left ankle is a bit stiff; it is a perfectly normal sensation from having a sprain repaired, though. I've dealt with it before and it should be completely gone by tomorrow. I see no reason to trouble her with it when it could potentially do her or her child harm."
This was so unusual, and yet it should not have been. It was hardly that Barty made a point of being honest with his father -- of course he didn't, nor did most of their extended family; any perfect honesty towards him from Barty, or Seph, or Uncle Hephaestus and Aunt Chloris... it would have meant ruination for all of them and ruination for the Cause, no doubt -- but he was being honest, for the time being. It helped that they were not discussing the war, or allegiances, or any such things; talking about Mother gave Barty enough cause to be honest and, perhaps, vulnerable; but his entire premise and the entire reason that he was allowed to be here right now was a lie, a carefully constructed lie about what a Good, Nice, Sweet Boy he was.
He was accustomed to getting more of a rush out of it than he presently was, but with Antonin comatose and Anzhelina no doubt worried out of her mind... he supposed that feeling normal would have been difficult. "What happened to your shoulder?" he asked with a muted curiosity.
"Good," he said nodding his head as he moved to stand up shifting so he wouldn't kick the boy why he was at it. "And what of Mr and Ms Dolohov? I understand that Mr. Dolohov is quite injured; how is his daughter faring?" he asked, asking more for when Demeter no doubt asked about what the two of them had talked about, whenever he made it back home. He rolled up his sleeves, feeling perhaps slightly awkward with how things were going. Now that he had a chance to rest he realized what a complete mess he looked like, though, given the situation, he was sure that people would forgive him for the moment.
He looked up at the question and shrugged. "I started off as an Auror trainee here, and while I was training I hurt my shoulder and ignored it while continuing to train, one day I hurt it again, couldn't hide it and found out I had left it too long so I couldn't get it repaired. You can't train if you can't raise your arm up too high," he explained easily enough as he looked at his son.
"Anzhelina is doing about as well as can be expected," Barty sighed, resorting to the same explanation that he had earlier given Regulus about the same matter, "which is to say, 'not very well at all'. ...I cannot say that I blame her, though. If it were you in Antonin's position -- or Mother -- I doubt that I would be handling anything well, much less wishing to talk about it with people." Barty was torn on the issue of Anzhelina, both wishing to talk about her and wishing to avoid the subject entirely; why people had not written helpful books on this subject was beyond him. "And Antonin... the Healers do not want to make promises until his condition is more stabilised. He has improved since last night, but they cannot treat him too quickly and risk doing greater damage to him."
Barty listened to his father's story attentively, becoming increasingly aware that the man was not aware of the fact that his father had already told Barty everything about this. He paused briefly after hearing everything, looked down, and only barely managed a soft reply of, "I already know, sir; Grandfather told me after my fifth year. When I asked him why you and Professor Slughorn were so set on my becoming an Auror." Managing a small, grim smile, he looked back up at Father and said dryly, "I suppose it's better that I didn't now, isn't it? ...But, nevertheless, did anything happen to your shoulder last night? The diagnostic spells indicated something more recent than your old injury..."
Senior nodded his head as he finished rolling up his sleeves and looked at his arm a little bit better making a small noise in the back of his throat. He looked up at the boy. "No doubt she is under shock; I am sure the healers are keeping an eye on her while they are there, as well as the members of the staff and no doubt yourself," he said easily. He frowned at the mention of Mr. Dolohov before nodding his head. "They are good healers, and he is well known there; I am sure they're doing everything they can and I'm sure that he will pull through," he said easily, his voice void of any sort of inflection, but he was trying so it had to be mean something.
Snorting and shaking his head slightly, the corner of his lips actually curving up into a brief smile. "Of course he has," he said nodding his head as he looked at the boy and didn't say anything more on the matter, it was obviously still a bit of a sore subject with him. That his son would rather be a healer than an Auror. "I probably just overexerted it," he said raising a hand to hold his shoulder before moving it back, rubbing over his shoulder blade absently, wincing as he shook his head. "Although the Cruciatus curse probably did not help," he mumbled more to himself as he thought about it. "I'll survive for now, I've got some potions at home I can take."
"I harboured no doubts about that, sir," Barty sighed quite earnestly. "I wish that I could do more for her, but, given the circumstances... Mother suggested that all I really can do is see to it that Anzhelina does not feel alone, and that is what I intend to do." It would have been an uncouth monster of a man who would have left Anzhelina to feeling abandoned right now; she needed all the support that she could get and, seeing as Barty was at the hospital anyway, it made sense for him to offer it to her.
"Perhaps you did," Barty commented seriously, with the sort of voice that he would have used for any other patient, "and perhaps it will be perfectly fine without any intervention, but I would still recommend having someone who is properly certified look at it, if only briefly. Potions for the pain or stiffness are only momentary solutions, and I doubt that Mother would fail to notice either your difficulty with the shoulder or your taking the potions. ...Please, Father. If you won't get it looked at for your own benefit, then please do so for hers?"
Senior nodded his head as he looked at his son, wondering for a breif moment if the boy was as lucky as he was in fiding someone he loved, but then he pushed the thought out of his mind. There would more important things to be doing at the moment than wondering when and if he son would be married and if he would be happy doing so. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling pretty stiff all over, old age, not his own bed, no wife and injuries were not treating him kindly.
"It'd been looked at before, it's dislocated and some muscle has grown in into the spot so there is nothing they can do about it without going in and cutting it open and everything else," he explained easily. "As I'm not on active duty, and have not before tonight fought in any sort of battle, I do not think it is something I need to worry about," he said before frowning and shaking his head. That sort of thing was no a fair card to play. "Your mother no doubt agrees with your opinion but for the moment I would rather not worry about it," he said firmly no doubt going to get an earful already from Demeter, he didn't want to hear it from his son as well.
"As you wish, sir," Barty sighed. Of course the man was being stubborn; even with the head trauma that was apparently inspiring him to be kind for once, Barty expected nothing less. Aquila had pointed it out quite well: regardless of the adjectives that Barty chose with which to put a different slant on the situation, he, Father, and Achilles were all remarkably stubborn, and Father was easily the worst of the lot. "I rather doubt that I need to tell you this, but, as I worry and so does Mother, do try to be gentle to your shoulder for the next few days? And please take care of yourself. I do not know what Mother and I would do if we lost you."
Senior nodded his head as he looked at the boy. "I will, there will be nothing more than paperwork and questions for the next couple of days no doubt," he said easily before he nodded his head. Putting a hand on the boy's shoulder, he nodded his head. "I've dallied long enough; I will talk to you later and give your mother my regards," he said. "I will see you around and let me know how Mr. Dolohov fares," he said dropping his hand to his side.