Megalomania

Chapter 1

Seven years of school had transformed Bartemius Crouch Junior. He had been a bratty, spoiled child; one that most people loathed for one reason or another. He nearly always got his way, whether it was with his parents or with other students, and when he didn't it often ended in screaming and hitting. Clarine, his mother, over compensated the lack of attention Barty received from his father by making sure he was given everything he wanted and never knew the meaning of the word "no". All of this began to change when, around his third year, Barty got an owl from his father expressing disappointment in his marks in school and comments the professors had sent home. Disappointing his parents wasn't anything he had ever dealt with before, and it certainly wasn't anything he wanted to get used to. To know that the only time his father cared to notice him was when he had failed didn't make any sense to him. This was the first of many of such letters, the ones that made Barty change himself for good. Instead of snobbish, he became friendly; he paid attention in class and took up Quidditch as a Seeker for the Slytherin team. Representing the meaning of all of his father's propositions to the Ministry was vital if he wanted to receive any sort of positive attention.

At the end of his fifth year, the prodigal son had grown tired of doing everything he could to please Crouch Senior and never getting any affection out of it. His distaste for his father intensified with each letter describing his efforts to integrate Muggle-borns into Wizarding society and every interview he had with the Prophet. At first, this loathing was kept silent. It seemed utterly childish for him to think any less of his father just because he was a busy man. Eventually, his hatred for his father transferred to hatred for all of his father's causes, which were all against Pureblood supremacy. Through his abhorrence of the man, Barty strove to become his antithesis. He maintained his façade of a happy, naïve boy, while secretly formulating a plan to change the world. One could hardly notice his tendencies for practicing the Dark Arts and insulting the Mudbloods. He hid his true feelings and would continue to do so until the opportunity presented itself and he was able to make real change. The easiest way to do this, Barty assumed, was to join the Ministry of Magic, just as his father had wanted him to. Being inconspicuous was essential, so he had to keep quiet.

By the time he was seventeen, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was no longer the home away from home that Barty had considered it for so many years. Nearly everyone he had attended it with loved the school and dreaded having to leave it and venture out into the real world. He, however, couldn't wait for the day when he could say goodbye to that godforsaken school and its imbecilic students for good and become a functioning part of the world. He was certain that he'd make big changes, though he didn't exactly know how he intended to do this. His life was a paradox, but he carried out his deceit with skill. NEWTs were over, classes were done, he was home for good now. Why did it seem that he still couldn't escape being treated like a child by not only his mother, but everyone in their entire social circle? It wasn't as though he acted childishly around them. Barty was more than capable of being mature and carrying on intelligent conversation when he had to, though there were times when he'd much rather avoid it. It was true that when he was around those his age, Barty acted more childish than any of them. It made his double life a little easier to know that there was nothing expected of him from his peers. Sure, it made him appear more than a little eccentric; and more than a few people had called him crazy; it didn't matter though, not really. When all was said and done, Barty knew he would be in the better position; he would be the one to set everything back the way it belonged.

Barty hadn't really heard much on the subject of the man who called himself 'Lord Voldemort' other than his name. For the time being, he was not interested in associating himself with anyone who wanted to cause radical change out in the open; from what he could tell, that was exactly what this man wanted. The whispers were becoming more and more frequent, and Barty couldn't help but find himself curious about this man. He had, however, heard of a meeting that this 'Voldemort' would be holding to try to bring appeal to his cause. After much internal debate, Barty finally decided to consult with one of his close friends, Evan Rosier, about it.

They met for drinks in a dark corner of The Hogs Head in Hogsmeade. It was a disreputable place with a distinct smell; not someplace Barty enjoyed staying at for very long. It did, however, ensure complete secrecy if you slipped the barman an extra galleon or two. Unpopular business is best discussed in unpopular places. Barty entered the pub at nine and took a look around. There was a large, drunken crowd gathering in a corner, most likely gambling in some form or another. Instinctively, he brushed some of his light brown hair out of his eyes and messed up a little bit. His eyes squinted as they tried to adjust to the dim lighting, but he was able to make out Evan sitting in the opposite corner, drinks already at the table. He approached his friend with a grin on his face; the same one that often caused people to think him a bit vacant. He regarded it as a clever mask. Granted, he was happy every once in a while, but never as truly giddy as he seemed to appear all of the time. Sure, there were some cases where he was a little bit naive and a little too trusting; everyone had weaknesses, though. He learned quickly and was an observer. He knew how each and every person he spoke with on a regular basis would react to certain emotions, conversations, and actions. Of course, he knew better than to let onto that; that would just be silly.

"'Ello!" he said cheerfully, in a stage whisper. It seemed like he was discussing top-secret business of some sort, though he certainly was not. He took a seat across from Evan at the table.

"Hi Barty," Evan said, somewhat happily. There was a small smile on his face, but it was nothing compared to the giant toothy grin on Barty's. Barty took a sip of his drink, wondering if they ought to make small talk before they dove into the topic at hand; his question was answered for him when Evan spoke again. "So, you want to know what I think of this Lord Voldemort bloke?"

"That's what I'm here for, I guess," Barty said, leaning his elbow on the table.

"I think it's a load of rubbish, really. No one is going to support a nutter like him. But I think that he might have some good ideas. I mean, the right sort of ideas. About the world - our world - and all that. We can't let the Mudbloods be seen as equals to us, can we? Our families have been running the country for centuries, and they barge in and act like they run the show. I know your dad..."

"My dad?" Barty asked, allowing a slight smirk to form on his lips. It wasn't exactly common knowledge that he was bent on murdering his father, ruining his legacy, and expelling the impure from the Wizarding World. There were a few of his closer friends who knew that his sympathies did not lie with his father; there were none that knew precisely how homicidal he truly was. After years of being ignored and told that he wasn't good enough, Barty could only think that the best day of his life would be the day when he could take his father's life. At first, he had tried to think of some poetic or ironic way to do it, but as the years went on and the plots became more far-fetched, he decided old-fashioned, cold-blooded murder would do the trick. "He's the only reason I'm considering going to this meeting."

"You're going to tell the Ministry?"

"Don't be daft, of course I'm not. I just meant that I want to do whatever I can to destroy my father's life work."

"Well, in that case, you ought to go."