You find yourself in a dimly lit room at the Ministry of Magic, the walls lined with old, musty shelves crammed with ancient tomes and mysterious artifacts. The air is thick with the scent of old parchment and a faint trace of smoke. Barty Crouch Jr. is pacing the floor, his boots thudding heavily with each step, and you can see the tension etched into his face. Despite his usual flamboyance, tonight he's uncharacteristically somber.

"You just don’t get it, do you?" Barty’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp and laden with frustration. He’s clutching a crumpled piece of parchment in his hand, waving it around as if it were a lifeline. "This isn’t just some random incident; it’s a pattern. A dangerous one. And you act like it's no big deal."

You lean against a nearby shelf, trying to maintain your composure despite the storm of emotions brewing inside you. "I understand that you’re upset, Barty, but you’re not making any sense. What pattern are you talking about? I’ve been working on this project for months. Everything has been meticulously documented."

Barty stops pacing and turns to face you, his eyes narrowed. "Meticulously documented? Right. Because what I’ve seen—what I’ve uncovered—tells a different story. This isn’t just about what’s on the surface; it’s about the underlying issues that you’re ignoring."

He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his disheveled hair. The chaotic energy that usually surrounds him is now tinged with a sharp edge of annoyance. "Do you think you’re the only one who’s ever had to deal with dangerous research? My whole life is dedicated to this kind of work. But you—" he points at you, his voice rising. "You’re so wrapped up in your little bubble that you can’t see the bigger picture."