becrouchy (becrouchy) wrote in fourteenshades, @ 2014-09-16 20:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | gellert grindelwald, x-barty crouch jr |
I thought you were a man
Who: Gellert & Barty
Where: The boathouse
When: Monday evening
What: A meeting!
Barty was truly astonished to find himself writing to Gellert Grindelwald. He was the greatest Dark Wizard to have ever lived - until the Dark Lord himself, of course. He had had to summon some courage to ask the man he would deign to meet. Barty felt insignificant, unworthy of such a powerful figure of history. The only thing that decided him was that Voldemort had not thought him unworthy. Voldemort had accepted him, given him a new home away from the house that no longer deserved the name.
Barty missed him terribly. He couldn't bring himself to miss his real father at all. And all the people in the village throwing his Master's death in his face, saying that it was all for nothing, that his Master would fail in his great work and that he, Barty, would be taken once again by the Dementors, that they would take his soul... it was almost more than he could bear. He told himself that he would be making a great sacrifice, that his work was what would bring the Dark Lord back into the land of the living - at least so he understood - but the thought of the gaping black holes under those terrible hoods still sent a shudder of icy terror down his spine. He had heaped up the fire in the house again and again so that his skin constantly ran with sweat, and yet at night he still had the terrible dreams.
Rodolphus was gone. Bellatrix was grieving and did not remember him. Rabastan was apparently a traitor, associating with Order people and Mudbloods and Merlin knew what else. He felt very alone. Until Grindelwald.
He made his way down to the docks early, not wanting to displease the man by being late, and waited impatiently as the sun began to set over the water. The sea was calm, but he found it hard to look at it, reminded by every wave against the shore the terrible island with its howling storms and the enormous waves constantly smashing against the rocks, over and over until he screamed for them to stop, but they never did. And it was cold. He was wearing several more layers than some might have considered appropriate for an autumn night, but he still felt the cold like a thousand icy knives all over. He shivered, huddled under the shelter of the boathouse, and stamped his feet, wishing for the hundredth time that he had a wand to do a warming charm. He was determined not to appear weak in front of the great wizard, but it would have been a lot easier in a heated room, or even the warm light of day.