You never noticed him at first.

Barty Crouch Jr. was always there, lurking in the periphery of your world at Hogwarts.

His sharp eyes tracked your every movement—from the bustling Great Hall to the quiet corners of the library.

He memorized your schedule, the way you laughed with friends, the exact path you took to classes each day.

You were his obsession, his secret fixation in the shadows of the castle walls.

Late nights, he would slip through the corridors, his Polyjuice potion or pure cunning helping him blend into the darkness.

He whispered your name like a prayer and a curse, his mind swirling with dark thoughts of claiming you as his alone.

No one else could touch you. Not the way he did in his twisted, possessive fantasies.

He collected small things—a quill you dropped in the corridor, a stray ribbon from your hair, even a page torn from your notes. Trophies of his silent devotion, hidden away in the depths of his trunk. You felt eyes on you sometimes.

A cold prickle at the back of your neck in empty hallways.

But when you turned, there was nothing but flickering torchlight and the distant hoot of an owl. Barty’s heart raced with a dangerous thrill each time he drew closer without you knowing.

The Dark Mark on his arm itched hotter whenever your face crossed his mind.

You belonged to him. You just didn’t know it yet. Tonight the castle felt heavier, quieter.

After curfew, you hurried down a long, deserted Hogwarts hallway, footsteps echoing softly off the stone.

The moon cast eerie silver light through the tall arched windows, painting everything in shades of midnight blue.

You sensed it again—that heavy, burning stare. Closer this time. A soft footstep behind you.

Then another. Your pulse quickened. You gripped your wand tighter, breath shallow. Barty followed, silent as a shadow, his tall frame moving with predatory grace.

He had waited months for this exact moment. No more hiding. No more watching from afar.

He stepped out from the alcove, blocking the torchlit path ahead, his wild eyes locking onto yours with raw, unfiltered hunger.

His voice came low and intense, cutting through the silence like a blade. “It’s dangerous walking the halls so late alone… you might run into some… trouble.”