CROUCH, Bartemius Jr.

BARTEMIUS CROUCH, JR. ,


________________________
"IT'S REAL FOR US. NOT FOR HER.
WE'LL GET THE LETTER, YOU AND ME."
• the basics • the basics • the basics •
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( FULL NAME ) : Bartemius Crouch, Jr.
( NICKNAMES ) : 'Barty' is not something he considers a nickname; it is his real name, despite what anyone else might say. He views himself as a completely separate entity from his namesake, and 'Barty' symbolizes this.
( SEX ) : Male.
( BLOOD TYPE ) : Pureblood.
( AGE & DOB ) : September 17, 1962; Barty is fifteen.
( YEAR ) : Fifth.
( HOUSE ) : Slytherin.
( CANON? ) : Yes.
( OCCUPATION ) : Student and future Death Eater.
( AFFILIATION ) : Death Eater.
( SEXUAL ORIENTATION ) : Heterosexual.
( WAND ) : 13 inches, phoenix feather, blackthorn, stiff.

( LIKES ) :

• Reading
  
• the Dark Arts
  
• Power
  
• Torture
  
• Blood
  
• Quidditch
  
• Potions
  
• Analyzing others
  
• Professor Riddle (to the point of obsession)

( DISLIKES ) :

• His father
  
• Weakness
  
• Disloyalty
  
• Idiots
  
• Being taken advantage of
  
• Muggle Studies
  
• Herbology

( STRENGTHS ) :

• Intelligent
  
• Perceptive
  
• Talented at practically anything he does.
  
• Loyal, although this could also be seen as a weakness.

( WEAKNESSES ) :

• Immoral
  
• A bit of a maniac
  
• Hot-tempered, although calm in certain situations.
  
• Loyal
  
• Vengeful
  
• Impossibly cocky
  
• Sadistic
  
• Slightly creepy

( AMORTENTIA ) :

• Fresh blood
  
• Pine
  
• Old parchment
  
• Leather

( RIDDIKULUS! ) : Dying without anyone remembering his name.
( EXPECTO PATRONUM! ) : Barty has never tried and will never try to cast a patronus, for he is almost certain he is corrupt enough to get eaten by maggots. He is quite sensitive about the topic and will deny all accusations of his inability to cast a patronus.
( DEMENTOR'S KISS ) : Every day Barty sees his father is bad enough, but the one time Barty truly felt heartache was when he said something particularly nasty and his father refused to acknowledge Barty as his son.
( MIRROR OF ERISED ) : To be powerful enough to rule the world, or at least serve the Dark Lord efficiently.
( PERSONALITY ) : Barty is one of those people that seem to have been born with some kind of unspecified mental defect. He experiences various Tourette-like symptoms, one of the most prevalent ones being his constant lip licking; it is as if that particular muscle needs to be constantly occupied. Barty, in general, is unable to keep still, which causes people to believe he has motor tics. You can find him tapping his feet in a steady beat or twiddling his fingers against any available solid surface. Some of those tendencies tend to be self-destructive, such as biting the inside of his cheeks until they bleed. Perhaps it makes him a bit of a masochist when he takes pleasure in those things, particularly the blood. Blood, to Barty, is beautiful and repulsive at the same thing, which is why he finds it so attractive.

It isn't just blood he is strangely attracted to; Barty has a morbid curiosity with practically anything deemed strange or twisted. He has a particular obsession with the Dark Arts, which he started practicing in his second year, and some good, moral part of Barty was irreversibly destroyed when he cast his first Dark spell. He always was a little bit off, though, even as a child; it was general opinion that he was of less than average intelligence until he stepped foot in his first class at Hogwarts. Barty is, in fact, extraordinarily intelligent, to the point where it gets rather alarming. While academically gifted, Barty is especially cunning and an amazing duelist; he is not someone you want to face in a battle, even at his young age. While it is an admirable trait of his, that trait is squandered by his unbelievable arrogance. Barty knows just how intelligent and powerful and wonderful he is, and he tends to dominate conversations just by being himself.

In that sense, Barty believes everyone but a select group of people are inferior to him. Contrary to popular opinion, Barty is not a blood purist; he merely has an unquenchable thirst for power, and he dislikes anyone who dares stand in his way or has nothing beneficial to grant him. Barty truly loves nobody, although that is partially to blame for the fact that he was neglected as a child; the only person he idolizes is Professor Riddle, who is the closest to a father figure Barty has. Barty has a vengeful nature and wants to spite his father, which is partially what drew him to the Dark Arts in the first place, minus that he was interested in them beforehand. Other than his vindictiveness, Barty also happens to be extremely competitive and gets angry easily. He has learned to control that anger over time, but there are still moments where he can be compared to the Incredible Hulk, especially when watching or playing Quidditch. Barty is rather creepy and not quite right in the head, but his intelligence and talent makes him stand out and beyond his peers, rather than stand among them.

( HAIR ) : Slightly shaggy, straw colored hair.
( EYES ) : Brown eyes, although if examined in proper lighting, they do have various flecks of crimson red in them. Fairly small.
( FACIAL STRUCTURE ) : Pointed nose, chapped lips, and light freckles.
( BODY STRUCTURE ) : Barty is relatively tall, standing at around 6'1" and has a thin, somewhat lanky build. Other than the general creepy aura, Barty is physically unimposing.
( ATTIRE ) : When not in his Slytherin uniform, Barty is rather lackluster in his appearance. Most of the time, he appears unkempt and not very well put together purely due to lack of effort. Because he's fairly young, Barty only has a bit of stubble on his chin that he shaves once a fortnight. When Barty does have to go to a formal occasion, however, he will dress to the nines and probably look far better than he does on usual circumstances.
( PLAY-BY ) : Alex Watson.

( PARENTS ) :

• Father - Bartemius Crouch, Sr. - Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
  
• Mother - Desdemona Crouch - pureblood witch.

( SIBLINGS ) : None.
( OTHERS ) : None.
( HISTORY ) : Barty was born fifteen years ago to the prestigious, pureblood Crouch family. While they were wealthy and influential, the Crouch family did not care about their blood status and instead focused on more important matters. In fact, Bartemius Crouch, Sr. was so focused on "important matters" that he never had time to tend to his son. Barty was raised by the family's devoted house elf, Winky, but Barty was a strange child and while Winky tried to care for him, Barty was never fully satisfied.

Granted, his mother obviously loved him, but she was always at sewing conventions (or whatever it was women did). Barty never developed any affection for either of his parents, and he felt as if his father hated him. In fact, he knew it. His father hated him and only loved his mother, and that stupid house elf pitied him. Barty didn't like feeling pitied, even as a child.

Going to Hogwarts was like escaping to a safe haven, where he could grow and learn and act like he wanted to. Be who he wanted to be. Be someone powerful - a Death Eater, perhaps. Merlin, if Barty's father saw him now...

If his father saw him now, he would realize just how superior Barty was. Is. Superior. Plus, who needs a father when you have Lord Voldemort? Fathers are useless.

His father is useless.

Everyone's useless, except for him. Aren't they?

( ALIAS ) : Arbor.
( AGE ) : Fourteen.
( EXPERIENCE ) : Over five years. Too long, I know.
( CONTACT INFO ) : PM me or feel free to email me (my email can be found on my profile). Also, you can ask me for my Skype, which I will gladly hand out.
( HOW'D YOU FIND US? ) : Caution 2.0.
( ROLEPLAY EXAMPLE ) : DOCTOR WHO FTW. <3 Essentially, I play the adopted daughter of Amelia and Rory Williams, and Amy has just died. It's on a private RP site, and it's fairly crappy, but I'm too lazy to type up a new post.

Cassie's entire world had come crumbling down merely days ago. She had not questioned the weathered piece of paper her mother had given her, but she had questioned why it had to be her mother's last act. Her mother was old, she knew, but she was the only person Cassie could rely on. After her father died years before, Cassie didn't know what to do with herself, but she, at least, had her mother back then to give her some form of comfort. And now...nothing. No one. No reassuring, if trembling, arm on her shoulder. No whispered, "It's going to be all right." Nothing. It wasn't going to be all right, was it? Somehow, Cassie felt that with nobody to blatantly lie to her (even if it was for her own benefit), Cassie couldn't lie to herself. But the truth hurt, and Cassie wondered if the world would be a better place if everyone lied constantly. Right now, Cassie didn't want to accept the truth.

Then why was she standing here?

Cassie looked down at the paper in her hand. How long ago had her mother written this? Shakily, the girl skimmed it one more time, inhaling the sweet scent that rubbed off everything her mother touched, as if by smelling Amelia Pond's perfume she could make her come back to life.

Such delicate handwriting. Even in death, her mother was envied.

Dear Cassandra,

If you are reading this, that means that I am long gone from this Earth.

Cassie choked back a sob once again.

Do not fret, my child. Know that even in death, your father and I love you dearly. I will ask only one thing of you as my dying will; on April 14, 1996, go to London Airport and ask for Amelia Pond. Your father and I will be watching over you.

Love,
Mum

Cassie closed her eyes. She would do this. For Mum. Her eyes fluttered as she pushed open the door to London Airport. Cassie scanned her surroundings. Everything was so normal. People chattered and laughed and smiled. Why were they not noticing that someone so important, so very important, was dead? Gone. Buried six feet under. Were they that oblivious?

It was so much easier in the sterility of her own apartment.

It was so much easier when she didn't have to face her own conflict, when she could just run away. But she promised her mother she would do this. It was her dying will. Cassie didn't know why, but she did know she needed to stop being such a coward. It was the loss of a life, but - you have just lost the most important person in your life, a persistent, probing voice in the back of Cassie's skull reminded her. She knew she couldn't listen to that voice, because then she would end up bursting into tears.

Waterworks always caused a commotion, and Cassie didn't want that.

Slowly, Cassie made her way to the 'customer service' counter. The woman behind it seemed eerily cheery. Cassie didn't like cheery. Cheery made her upset. Shaking her head, as if to ward off those thoughts, she clutched the paper in her hand even tighter and mustered a smile. "Hello. I'm looking for Amelia Pond."