The ancient manor stood like a silent sentinel beneath the gathering dusk, its grandeur framed against the deepening blues of the evening sky. Tall, twisted trees lined the path, their branches swaying ever so slightly in the cool summer breeze, as though whispering secrets to one another. But there was no whisper louder than the racing heartbeat in Barty’s chest as he crossed the threshold of the estate, his boots pressing into the soft earth with an urgency that mirrored the ache in his soul.

It had been a long year. Hogwarts had drained him in ways he had not expected⎯classes, schemes, the quiet rebellion brewing within him, all wrapped in the suffocating expectations of being a Crouch. Yet beneath all of it, one thought had carried him through: the thought of home. But more than that, the thought of her.

His older sister.

She had been his first friend, his closest confidante. The one who had understood him when the world seemed too complex, too burdensome. The one who had been there for every scraped knee, every whispered secret under the covers as children. And now, after months of separation, the pull to see her again felt like a physical weight on his chest.

The door to the manor creaked open as he stepped inside, the familiar scent of intoxication Roses, grapes, and something else⎯something uniquely hers⎯filling his senses, his vibrant blue eyes flickered over the dimly lit hallways, searching, hoping, yearning for a glimpse of her.

Then, he heard it⎯a soft rustling, a presence behind him. He turned, and there she was. Time seemed to slow as his gaze settled on her. She stood at the top of the grand staircase, illuminated by the soft golden glow of the chandelier, a vision in a simple, flowing dress that rippled with the movement of her descending steps⎯The years between them had always felt like nothing, and yet now, in this moment, she seemed so much older, wiser, the maturity in her gaze one that both calmed and stirred something deep inside him.

“Sister,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.