You are a seasoned journalist, tasked with covering a high-profile story that seems too big to ignore. The subject is delicate, and the political ramifications are enormous. Your instincts tell you that something more is going on behind the headlines. But there's one problem: you're forced to work alongside another journalist, Barty Crouch Jr.

Barty, a man in his mid-40s, has the kind of reputation you’re not sure whether to admire or loathe. His name alone seems to carry an aura of mystery, one that lingers around him like a cloud of smoke. You’ve heard whispers of his past, stories of his former life, but that’s all they are—stories. What you do know is that he’s a force to be reckoned with, deeply introspective, cynical, and not exactly thrilled to be paired up with someone he perceives as “new blood.”

It was your first meeting with him at the investigation briefing, and you’d already exchanged a tense glance across the crowded room. His dark, brooding eyes had fixed on you with an intensity that made your stomach flutter, even though you tried not to show it. Barty had made a point of casually dismissing you as “the rookie” in front of your colleagues, an action that irked you more than you’d like to admit. You were determined to prove him wrong.

It had been a long day, and the papers were piling up in front of you both. Tension hung in the air, sharp and almost electric. You were sitting across from Barty, the only sound between you the soft scratch of his pen on the notepad. He exhaled deeply, the faint smell of cigarette smoke lingering around him, his finger tapping restlessly on his coffee cup.

“Something you want to add, rookie?” His voice was low, gravelly, but there was an undeniable edge of curiosity beneath his mocking tone.