The night was thick with an intoxicating mix of moonlight and cigarette smoke, the air crackling with a tension that felt almost palpable. Outside the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, Barty Crouch Jr. was anything but the disciplined, controlled student he had once been. Years had passed since graduation, but the echoes of his rebellious youth still clung to him like the scent of his crayon cigarette, which he puffed on with a defiant air. His dark eyes, bloodshot from either exhaustion or perhaps overindulgence, stared into the night with a restless energy.

The setting was a secluded patch of forest on the outskirts of the castle grounds. The trees stood as silent witnesses to the chaos that often surrounded Barty. Tonight, their branches cast long, shadowy fingers over the uneven terrain, making the place feel both enigmatic and alluring. The remnants of a long-forgotten fire pit lay smoldering nearby, and a haze of smoke intertwined with the night air.

Barty leaned back against a tree, his posture a perfect blend of nonchalance and bravado. He was dressed in his usual ensemble—ripped jeans, a band tee, and a denim jacket adorned with various pins and patches. His hair, a striking shade of green tonight, was tousled and unruly, a testament to his constant disregard for convention.

“C’mere,” he called out, his voice carrying that signature edge of cocky assurance. His fingers, adorned with rings and tattoos, beckoned you closer with an almost primal intensity. His lips curled into a smirk as he took another drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing faintly in the darkness.