Chapter Text
1971
He shouldn’t have run.
He knew he shouldn't have run, and yet… Barty sighed, frustrated; he scuffed his shoe against the ground and leveled the pavement with a frown. He’d gotten angry. Barty Crouch Jr. tended to get angry quite a lot, especially at his father. Especially at his mother, for not saying a word. Still, he’d regret it come summer, when it was time to return home.
There was soot on his robes, in his hair. Probably some on his face, too, but it wasn’t like King’s Cross station was lined with mirrors. Smoke curled from the train like a snake, billowing into the air above Platform 9 ¾ and dispersing amongst the blue of the cloudless sky. All around him, happy families saw their children onto the train. Tearful goodbyes, kisses on cheeks, reminders to behave, and write every week, won’t you, Jamie, darling? He rolled his eyes at this last interaction. Well, it was obvious that that guy was going to be a pain in the ass all year. Those types always were, in Barty’s opinion. He heaved his trunk up the stairs leading onto the train, wincing slightly at the weight. Yeah, a ‘happy family’ would really come in handy right about now.
He was early—it was only about 10:45, as a quick glance at the station clock informed him—so several compartments were empty, the carriage corridors buzzing as students reunited with their friends after a long summer apart. He quickly found an empty compartment and after a quick (read - long and painful) struggle to get his bag in the overhead carrier, sat down in the corner and hugged his knees to his chest. Great, he had this compartment all to himself. Plenty of time to dwell on his last words to his parents for the year. He leaned back in his seat, eyes trailing to the window, breath fogging the glass—
“Pandora - Pandora no.”
A boy’s voice outside the compartment, followed by a girl’s. Her laugh sounded like church bells.
Barty sat up straight, listening.
“Aw, come on, Ev. Let’s sit with him. Merlin, Father would be furious.”
“That's exactly what I don’t want, Dora, just leave him be. I’m sure there are plenty of other empty compartments for us.”
There it was. That laugh again.
“Don’t be a spoilsport. I’m sure he really won’t mind once he gets to know us.”
Merlin, they were definitely coming in and Barty would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious—if not a little scared.
He licked his finger and rubbed at a patch of soot on his white shirt as the two entered. Siblings, no, twins, from the looks of it, with pale blond hair and tan skin and the palest blue eyes he had ever seen. They truly reminded him of a clear ocean, deep and frigid and everything there was to see. At the same time, they were so cold, almost like ice, a fortress of secrets hidden behind them. The boy refused to make eye contact—the girl, however, bounded over with her hand outstretched, two waist-length braids dangling down by her ears.
“Pandora Rosier,” the girl said. “Nice to meet you.”
“Barty Crouch Jr,” he replied, “as I’m sure you’re already aware.”
He looked behind Pandora to her brother, whose gaze was fixed firmly on his feet. “And who’s this ray of sunshine?”
“My brother, Evan. Excuse his rudeness, he wasn't taught how to talk to strangers.”
Her brother, Evan, finally deigned to speak.
“If only I actually cared about what he thought of me,” he scoffed, looking up to frown at his sister and Barty in turn.
There was a beat between them, and Barty paused.
“Oh, get off your high horse,” he found himself snapping, voice wavering minutely. Evan glared back.
“Okay, boys, calm down,” interjected Pandora, blond brains whipping around as she turned to glare at her brother. “Evan, quit being a prick, you don’t even know him.” She faced Barty. “I’m sorry about my brother, Barty.”
Barty shrugged. “It’s fine, I just don’t react well to open hostility, unsurprisingly.”
He gave Evan a pointed look, and the blond boy’s lips twisted into a smirk. Game on, his eyes seemed to say, flashing electric blue with mirth. Then he turned away, hoisting the two trunks up to the rack overhead.
The twins sat down on the other side of the compartment, Evan next to the window and Pandora near the door. There was a brief silence which even Pandora didn’t try to break; it was on the cusp of awkwardness when the compartment door slid open. Three pairs of eyes turned to face the doorway, and were met with a girl and the trunk she was lifting up and putting away the moment she entered.
Barty wouldn’t have minded her arrival, if she had bothered to ask.
Evan seemed to have been thinking the same thing, because he said, “Isn’t it polite to ask the people already there before making yourself at home?”
Pandora swatted at his arm. “Be nice, Evan,” she hissed, before smiling at the girl.
The girl seemed to be utterly unimpressed by Evan’s comment. “It’s not like you own the compartment,” she said sternly, and Barty instantly was reminded of his mother.
“It’s basic decency,” Evan countered.
Barty found himself smirking. Finally, someone else who was willing to call out his snobbery.
“Barty Crouch, Jr,” he told her, and because he couldn't help himself he added, “don’t mind Rosie, he’s shy.” Pandora laughed despite herself, while Evan looked disgruntled.
“Dorcas Meadowes,” the new girl smirked, “and I can certainly see that.” She threw herself down on the seat next to him, stretching as she made herself comfortable.
Each of them to a corner, four points on a compass, if you will. The train jolted, and began its journey due North to Hogwarts.
Barty took a moment to consider the people around him.
Evan Rosier, Rosie, the entitled prince—more like the entitled dickhead.
Pandora Rosier, his witty, and by far, nicer, counterpart. Barty had to admit he’d taken a liking to her, and she to him.
Dorcas Meadowes, the girl with the fiery eyes and sharp tongue.
And him. Barty Crouch Jr, who was small for his age with a temper the size of his soul and ever expanding. He thought back to what had transpired less than half an hour ago, and with his eyes closed, he could almost replay the last minutes he had spent in his childhood home.
“Bartemius!” Her voice in his head was so alike to her real one that he felt goosebumps prickle on his skin.
Barty groaned. “Mum. You know I hate that name.” He slid down the bannister of the staircase, landing lightly on the dull gray carpet of the hallway. Lightly was generous. He more or less fell onto the floor, catching himself with the bannister just before he lost his footing.
His mother sighed. “But it’s your name, no?” Her words lilted, her Italian roots still lending melody to her voice. She laughed at the expression on his face. “Mi dispiace, mio caro. Are you ready for school?”
Barty rolled his eyes, not bothering to disguise the grin on his face. “Yes, Mama. I’ll be fine. There’s no need to worry.” He looked for his father, but he wasn't there. He never was. “Will Father not come to see me off?”
Gabriella Crouch clicked her tongue at him. “You know how busy he gets, Barty, especially at this time of year. You know he would want to be here.”
Barty shook his head. “No, actually. I don’t.” He picked up his trunk. “I’ll see you next year.”
“Bartemius, where do you think you’re—”
He’d taken a handful of Floo powder from the mantelpiece above the grand fireplace near the entranceway of Crouch Hall, and thrown it into the flames, stepping into the green fire without a backward glance.
Well. Maybe one.
The last time he saw his mother, she hadn’t even been looking at him.
Her eyes were cast down at the floor, brows furrowed together as if she were missing something.
Pandora’s voice brought him back to the present.
“What houses do you guys want to be in?”
“Slytherin,” said Barty and Evan at the same time.
There was an awkward silence for a moment, until Dorcas scoffed.
“The Sacred Twenty Eight,” she drawled, “and their obsession with Slytherin needs to be studied.”
“It’s a family tradition,” Evan explained. “Slytherins are supposed to be ‘ambitious’ and ‘cunning’ and ‘resourceful’.” He made air quotes with his fingers, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, it’s an excuse for all you dickheads to bond with each other and reproduce to make more dickheads.”
Barty had to snort at that. After all, she wasn’t wrong.
“And what house do you want to be in, Meadowes? Gryffindor?” The blond boy couldn’t have made it sound more derogatory if he tried.
“Ravenclaw,” she said, flipping her braids over one shoulder. “I refuse to be sorted into Slytherin—I’m not one of your precious ‘Sacred 28’, after all.” She imitated Evan’s air quotes, causing him to scowl good-naturedly.
The gentle rocking of the train was soothing to Barty, the repetitive motions quieting his mind. “And what would you do if you did get sorted into Slytherin, princess? It's not like you can choose your house.”
Dorcas laughed. “Well, then I guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other, no?”
“A pity, really,” Evan commented.
Dorcas flipped him off, and for the first time in his life, Barty heard Evan Rosier laugh; and Merlin, what wouldn’t he give to hear that bloody sound again. He couldn’t recall what it reminded him of. Windchimes, perhaps.
“Crouch, take that ridiculous expression off your face.” Evan’s eyes narrowed in his direction.
“What expression, Rosie?” Barty pouted, faking innocence. “And if you ever call me Crouch again, I’ll set you on fire.” He was definitely bluffing. But being called by his father’s name did make him want to set things on fire—especially considering just how hard he was trying to be nothing like him.
“I’d like to see you try.” Evan smirked, pausing for a moment. “Bee.”
Barty let out a snort, one that his father would surely call undignified, and next to him, Dorcas laughed. When he looked up, the twins were smiling too.
He had no words to describe this moment, this feeling. It was foreign, but he had to admit, it wasn’t unpleasant. He had always hated his father's friends and their children—but there was something about them that was different. There was something that was extraordinary. This was friendship, or at least the beginning of one. And for the first time in his life, Barty wanted to know these people. Who they were, where they came from, what they liked and what they hated. Their secrets and fears, what made them tick.
Pandora leaned back in her seat, “Do you guys ever think the wind is trying to tell us something that we forgot how to hear?”
Well, that wasn't something you hear everyday. “I'm sorry, what?”
“It's just, think about it. We still have the fear of falling when we don't sleep in trees that much anymore. What if it's just another long forgotten trait that's evolved out?”
“Goddamn it, Pandora, I just want you to stop saying odd shit.” Evan seemed over this whole mystic vibe that Pandora had.
“Well, I for one think it's nice to think about. Umm. Not nice. Interesting. Yeah, cause that's actually quite scary, Pandora.” Dorcas shrugged.
“Yeah. You're the only one who feels that way, Cas.” Barty poked Dorcas with his foot, “I agree with Evan. I don’t like ‘odd shit’ either,” he used finger quotes when he said ‘odd shit’.
Pandora just scoffed and pushed Evan slightly, “At least one of you thinks it's interesting, you arseholes”
“Don’t worry, Dora, you’ll always have me,” Dorcas replied, shooting Evan and Barty a fake glare, the atmosphere light.
“I’m hurt, Cassie.” Barty fake pouted.
“Quit calling me that, for Merlin’s sake.”
“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’.
“My dearest Cassie, won’t you do me a favour and slap Barty?” Evan said good-naturedly.
“Not if you keep calling me, Cassie, I won’t,” she muttered, pausing. “But then again, the satisfaction it would bring me outweighs my irritation by far.”
Pandora’s grin was slightly unsettling. “Do it, Cassie, I dare you.”
“Not you too,” the other girl groaned.
“Cassie, Cassie, Cassie,” Barty chanted.
Dorcas slumped back in her seat for a moment, before kicking his left leg. It wasn’t enough to leave a bruise, but just enough to shut him up.
“Merlin, you have long legs.” He reached down, rubbing at the spot where he had gotten kicked. Pandora snorted.
“Aww, is Bee hurt?” Evan mocked playfully, and Barty wanted to slap the stupid smirk off of his face.
“Rosier, you better shut up before I kick you too,” Barty said in as threatening a voice as he could manage.
“You’re sitting too far away from me to do anything,” Evan responded, grinning broader, pearly teeth radiant in light of the compartment lamps.
“Well, I’m not,” Pandora said. Barty quickly looked away.
“Well, we all know you never would, Panda.”
“Really? You want to test me now?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“She’s going to beat you up so bad, Evan.”
“Oh, shut up, Cassie.”
“No, Cassie, please, continue.”
“Pandora’s going to win, Rosie.”
“Not you too, Bee,” the other boy groaned.
“Come on, Dora, just do it already!” Dorcas encouraged..
“You know what, maybe I will.”
Barty whooped at that, and held up his hand to high-five Dorcas. She gave him a disgruntled look, but high-fived him nonetheless. He decided to count it as a win.
Pandora reached out and slapped the back of Evan’s head.
“Ow, I thought you were kidding,” Evan groaned, reaching up to rub the back of his head.
“Ev, when will you realise that I never kid about things like this? You’ve known me your whole life.”
“Technically, Dora, you’ve known me your whole life.”
“Oh, not this again,” she groaned.
“I’m thirteen minutes older than you,” he said in a sing-song voice.
“And you act like it’s thirteen years, so really, who’s the child here?”
“Still you, according to our birth certificates,” Evan retorted.
“Who cares about the law?”
“Technically—” he began again.
“Oh, shut up, Rosier, for Merlin’s sake. The next time you say the word ‘technically’, I’m going to strangle you,” said Dorcas.
“I’d love to see you try.”
“I swear to you, I will.”
“Tech—” And before Evan could finish the word, Dorcas had moved across the compartment to slap him across the face; and Barty, who wanted to add his own opinion, kicked him.
“Merlin, what is it with the lot of you?” Evan said incredulously, but smirked all the same as he rubbed his cheek gingerly.
“Merlin, what is it with you?” Pandora shot back. Evan simply flipped her off.
A gentle knock on the door broke them out of their bubble.
“Aah, the Trolley Witch is here, Pan. I’ll get you your chocolate frogs.”
Pandora groaned. “Evan, for the love of Merlin, do not buy Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavoured Beans again. Your game of ‘lucky dip’ did not end well last time on both parties’ accounts.”
Evan smiled. It was surprising how pleasant his arrogant face could look when expressing genuine human emotion. “Seeing as ‘both parties’ refers to the two of us, I’m going to have to agree with that summary. Still—you never know. We might get lucky.” With a wink, he dashed out into the corridor.
“Oi, Rosie, get me some exploding bonbons, yeah?” Barty asked, feigning nonchalance.
“Only if you ask nicely,” he called back.
Barty smiled a coy little grin and batted his eyelashes absurdly. “Pretty please may I have some exploding bonbons if it isn’t a hassle for you, sir?”
Dorcas let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Are you always this pedantic, Barty?”
“Only when it's irritating, Cassie.” Barty grinned widely in Dorcas’s direction, blinking more than batting his eyelashes.
“Don’t call me Cassie,” said Dorcas, wrinkling her nose.
He blew her a kiss, not missing the smile she couldn’t suppress even as she rolled her eyes. She was warming up to him, he was sure of it. No one could resist his charm, not even the stubborn blond boy with the laugh like windchimes.
Evan reentered the compartment, his arms full - close to overflowing, in fact. Barty bounded up to help just as the sweets spilled from Evan’s arms, catching his precious bonbons and intercepting a chocolate frog with his foot on its way down. “Careful there, Rosie,” he said, winking.
Pandora groaned loudly. “Evan, you always do this!”
Evan laughed in exasperation as though this conversation was being revisited for what probably wasn’t the first time.
Windchimes again.
“You go to buy one thing, and then you somehow end up buying half the trolley!”
Barty tuned out Pandora’s verbal barrage as he gingerly placed the sweets on his seat. He kicked his left foot up, caught the chocolate frog, and offered it to Dorcas. “Frog, Cas? Assuming I can call you Cas without you drawing your wand.”
Dorcas scoffed. “As if I would be able to do anything untrained - I’d end up hurting myself instead.” She sighed, accepting the chocolate frog. A peace offering, an olive branch between them that sprouted as she said, “Call me Cassie if you must. Bee.” And smiled.
Barty crinkled his nose immediately. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? Rosier did.” She removed the wrapping.
“It’s childish,” he argued. He didn’t mind it, not really, but it wasn’t a nickname he wanted to be stuck with for the next seven years of his life.
“You didn’t mind it when he called you Bee.” Dorcas raised an eyebrow—and then fit the entire chocolate frog into her mouth. Barty stared at her, mouth agape. She handed him the chocolate frog card. He glanced at it sparingly—Albus Dumbledore—and then back at Dorcas, who was somehow managing to eat the oversized slab of chocolate.
“How—wha—Merlin.” Even the Rosiers had turned from their back-and-forth berating to stare. For a moment they were silent, all watching Dorcas eat. She swallowed, then grinned.
Evan whistled. “Now that’s something you don’t see every day.”
Pandora burst into applause. Barty joined in, laughing as Dorcas took a bashful bow. Evan had taken the card from him. He studied it, flipped it over, and sighed. “Damn. I’ve got three of him.”
Dorcas looked over. “Tell you what, Rosie. I’ll eat the frogs, you take the cards. Which ones are you missing?”
Evan glared. “Don’t call me that,” he said, but relented. “Morgana and Newt Scamander.”
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to keep eating chocolate frogs until you have your precious cards, won’t I?” She grabbed another one from the pile and began to unwrap it.
“You’re crazy.” Barty shook his head.
“Maybe,” Pandora agreed, “but the best people always are.”
“I like you,” Dorcas nodded, before popping the chocolate into her mouth. Flipping over the card, she grinned when she saw who was on it. With her mouth half full of chocolate, she turned it to show Evan. “Look Rosie, I got your Morgana.” She flicked the card over to Evan, hitting him in the face. Evan grimaced while Barty and Pandora laughed, but even he couldn’t pretend to be annoyed for long when Dorcas’s frog had gotten him his coveted Morgana card.
There was a brief silence as the laughter died down.
Barty hated it. He tore the wrapper off a bonbon and threw it at Evan’s mouth.
Pandora burst into a fit of laughter at her brother’s poor attempt at catching it. Dorcas took out another bonbon and tossed it up and caught it in her mouth. While she was chewing, she smirked over at Evan, who flipped her off.
“Show off.”
“It’s not my fault you just suck at everything.”
“Hey!” Evan protested, and then the whole carriage was full of laughter.
Barty felt happiness swell in his chest. He did this, or at least helped. He was the one who t
hrew the bonbon at Evan, and it had butterflied into this wonderful moment. He liked feeling like this, the warmth in his chest that told him that maybe, everything would be alright. Maybe he wouldn't be alone—for how could he with the laughter and the smiles he'd been living without?
He liked having friends.