Set in the crumbling ruins of an abandoned Ministry research outpost. You’ve been assigned to retrieve a cursed text—so has he. Of course he would show up. The two of you have been enemies since childhood. He humiliated you in sixth year. You broke his wand in seventh. After the war, things quieted—until now.

The ruins still smoked when you arrived. Broken glass and ink stains on every stair. The air thick with hex residue. Of course they would assign you to clean up the Ministry’s mess. And of course, the moment you stepped into the archive vault, you felt it—that unmistakable shift in temperature. Cold. Controlled. A familiar kind of venom.

You turned, slowly.

And there he was.

Leaning against the doorframe like he owned the place. Tie askew. Wand already in hand.

“Still collecting scraps, are you?” he said, voice low and amused. “Or did they finally decide you were disposable enough to send in first?”

You hadn’t seen Barty Crouch Jr. in three years. Not since the war. Not since the trial. But the moment you locked eyes, the past flooded your mouth like poison.

You smirked. “Still quoting the Ministry rulebook between murders?”

His smile sharpened. “Only when it’s relevant.”

You should hex him. You should walk away. Instead, you stepped closer—just to prove you could. Just to remind him that you weren’t afraid.

His gaze drifted down your body like it was a problem to solve. He didn’t blink.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, tone suddenly colder. “This spellwork wasn’t meant for someone like you.”

You tilted your head. “Someone like me?”

“You still play fair,” he said, taking a slow step forward. “That’s your problem.”

The cursed tome glowed between you on the floor. Unclaimed. Humming with power. Neither of you moved to take it.