Collected

Isola woke up on a Saturday with a slight pain in her neck. A very small patch of flesh was burning, almost as if someone was holding a cigarette to her skin, and she reached up with a grimace, running her fingers over the tiny scar she'd had for as long as she could remember.

She could recall that there were points in her early childhood when it had hurt, but she never understood the reason, though she was well aware that the original wound had been inflicted by Lord Voldemort. Barty had explained it to her: When he had first presented her to the Dark Lord, he had been skeptical about her abilities, and so he tested her by causing her pain, and, according to Barty, she did not disappoint.

Still, it hadn't hurt in years, so the pain was a bit of a surprise, and the fact that it refused to go away was even more troublesome.

It was a Hogsmeade weekend, though, so Isola decided to not be bothered by it. She showered and got dressed in a pair of jeans, a green striped sweater, and some combat boots. Moria met her in the common room, and the two walked up to the Great Hall together, eating a bit before departing for the wizard village.

Everybody was very lively, wearing buttons to support their Triwaizard champions. The boys from Durmstrang were there, as well as the girls of Beauxbatons, so the little village was quite crowded, all of the foreigners exploring the shops, especially Zonko's.

Moria and Isola went stright into The Three Broomsticks, ordering a couple of Butterbeers and sitting down at a table that was already occupied by Draco, Weiss, Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise.

"Lovely of you to join us," Weiss said in a voice he thought was smooth. He extended an arm, attempting to put it around Isola who ducked out of the way.

"Don't touch me." The others all spluttered, amused by her bluntness. "Who's on chaperon duty today?"

"So far, I've seen Flitwick and Mad-Eye," Blaise answered.
"Shit."

"What, not a big fan of the hour?" Crabbe asked in his deep, dumb voice, completely mispronouncing the title.

"If you're attempting to say Auror, then no, I'm not a fan of him at all, and you wouldn't be either, if he watched you the way he watched me."

"I think he's keeping a close eye on all of us," Weiss chuckled, irritating Isola further.

Moria shook her head, jumping in. "You don't even understand. I've seen it. He watches Is like she's one of Wizards Most Wanted."

"Except it's different," Draco added, and the brunette lifted an eyebrow. "'Cause he doesn't watch her with trepidation, or anything. It's like he's just waiting to see what she'll do, like he's excited by her."

"Okay, okay, this is getting gross, and I'm still sitting right here," she grimaced, raising her hand to her neck again when her little dot of a scar gave a particularly painful throb.

"What's wrong? You're frowning," Moria said, leaning close to her friend.

"That's no different than usual. She's always frowning," Goyle said.

"No, my neck is just hurting, like someone burned me." All of her 'friends', if she could even call them that, had seen the small spot and knew where it came from, and thus lifted an eyebrow in interest.

"That's really odd," Draco commented. "Has it ever hurt before, the scar?"

She shook her head. "Not since I was really small, living with Barty. It stopped once the Dark Lord was vanquished." She hadn't realized when she was so young that the two events coincided, but as she got older, it was very easy to put two and two together.

The group looked at each other, all future Death Eaters and all a little excited, as if something clicked into place for all of them.

"You don't think--"

"It's not possible--"

"But, Pettigrew--"

"Just think about that statement. Pettigrew. It's not possible."

"Okay, so what if it's true? What if the little rat found Him?"

"Maybe he's rising again. Maybe he's getting strong."

"The Dark Mark did show up at the World Cup."

"Maybe it really was a sign, not just a prank."

"But, Father said--"

"He could have been mistaken."

"And, if He is rising--"

"That might be making your scar burn, or whatever."

"The scar is linked to the wand, I think, not Lord Voldemort himself. At least, I think that's the case."

"Even if it is, maybe it has something to do with the wand being put to use again."

"Wow Draco, you're a bit smarter than people give you credit for."

The blonde stuck his tongue out at a smirking Isola in a very mature gesture, and she reached across Moria to shove him lightly.

They all continued talking, voices hushed, bringing up any idea they had. For being so young, they were already true Death Eaters, and all of them seemed more than ready for their Lord to return, to rid the world of impure scum, to rule.

And, they would be his trusted followers.

It was a world Isola could not wait to be a part of. With Lord Voldemort ruling, they could do anything. They could infiltrate the Ministry, they could break into Azkaban...

She could get Barty back. Manic as he might be by now, she could still get him out of that cell.

Retracting herself from the secret conversation, Isola sat back with a smile on her face. Hopefully their theories were right-- that her scar hurting meant that He was rising again.



Of course, Isola couldn't dwell on that possibility, even with her neck burning all day. They were in no way sure of what could be happening with Peter Pettigrew and his quest for refuge with the Dark Lord.

Distraction came when Nizbit found Isola on her walk back to the castle. She sat on a banister outside and opened the letter from the Carrows. It had been a solid two weeks since she had written them, though delayed responses were nothing new to her. The black owl settled next to her and nipped at her hand every now and again, begging for attention as she read.

Isola,

That is actually a little strange. All we can say for now is be wary. Watch your back. He's an Auror, as you well know, and even if he doesn't know who exactly you are, we're positive he knows you were raised by us and others.

There's something else you should know. Don't know if it's been in the paper as the Ministry will probably try to keep it hushed up, but we've heard news that Johanna Crouch-- Sr.'s wife and Barty's mother-- was found in his cell in Azkaban four days ago.

Isola's jaw actually dropped, and she glanced around to make sure no one was around.

No sign of Barty anywhere, but his mum was dead. She'd been sickly for a while. No one knows exactly how she got in, or how he got out, but it happened.

He's out, so keep your eyes open. We don't know who he'll go to first, but we're sure you're somewhere high on the list.

Watch out for that bloody Auror and keep Barty in mind.

Amycus and Alecto

She couldn't keep the smile off of her face, truly excited about something for the first time in what felt like years. A mere hour ago, she was brainstorming possibilities of breaking him out of Azkaban once Voldemort was reigning, but now... Now, she didn't even have to do that. He had gotten out on his own!

Isola felt like she could scream. Part of her wanted to pack up all of her things and go on a journey to locate him. Maybe if she could find the Dark Lord, she'd find him.

Her reasoning kicked in, though, and she figured that Barty would know that she'd be at school, at Hogwarts. He probably already knew. Perhaps he was already on his way to her.

The sound of uneven footsteps met Isola's ears, and she turned quickly to find Moody approaching her.

"What's got you so bashful, Crouch?"

She couldn't even pretend to hide it, even if she detested the man walking closer. She hadn't snapped at him like she had those weeks ago, opting to stay mostly quiet in his classes, but she remained wary of him.

Shaking her head, she just grinned to herself. "Nothing, just good news is all."

"Right, well, constant vigilance!" He bellowed, and Isola actually laughed as he passed.

Curiosity peaking, she slid off of her seat and fell into step with him. "Professor, have you heard of any escapes from Azkaban?" She didn't know why exactly she was asking, just curious as to whether or not it had been publicized yet. Surely, a scandal like this would be all over the media.

Moody eyed her, one eyebrow raised, and she could have sworn she saw his lips twitch upward. "Can't say that I have, save for Sirius Black last year."

"Of course, everyone heard about that," she rolled her eyes. "But, none recent?"

"No," he grunted. "Why, do you know of someone who's escaped?"

"Like I'd tell you," she grinned. "I was just wondering. Since Black got out, I would just think maybe others would follow his lead and find ways. I mean, how would you even escape from a place like that. Isn't it supposed to be impossible?"

The scarred man turned to face her as they walked, this time smiling fully. "Like I'd tell you."

"Right, right, stupid question. It's just, if someone as dim as Sirius Black can get out, surely others can. There are way smarter people in there!"

"Pardon me, Miss Crouch," he paused, stopping where he stood. "But, what happened to the paranoia of me keeping too close a watch on you? What's possessed you to take an afternoon stroll with me?"

She snorted, trying to fight her smile and shrugged her narrow shoulders. "Maybe this is me keeping a close watch on you. Fair enough?"

He grunted, but his mouth turned up again. "And, this hasn't anything to do with your good news? All these questions about escaping Azkaban?"

"Of course not, Professor."

He eyed her for a moment but nodded and carried on. "Fair enough."

They parted ways after that, and Isola was still smiling, though a little taken aback by how down to earth Mad-Eye Moody actually was. The conversation had gone surprisingly well considering the topic and the suddenness with which it was brought up. Maybe he really did have a bit of a soft spot for Isola in a weird sort of way.

Or, maybe he was just glad that she was making it so easy to keep tabs on her.

With a groan, she scolded herself. Definitely should not have done that. Definitely should have just kept your mouth shut.

Investigations had obviously already taken place, if the Carrows knew about Mrs. Crouch being found, but maybe with this little prompt, a search party would be sent out.

Very dull move, Izzy.



Isola was lucky, though, considering Alastor Moody was not actually Alastor Moody, but an imposter.

Barty could easily admit that asking questions like that would raise suspicion. He was glad that he had been walking by rather than McGonagall or Dumbledore.

But, she had looked so happy. He was almost sure of what good news she had just gotten. Was it the Carrows who had written her, updating her on his escape, or someone else? Whatever the case, he promised never to forget the smile she had worn while talking to him.

She seemed so at ease around him, which was strange considering just weeks before, she had basically screamed accusations about him spying on her. He didn't mind her change of heart, but he did hope she wouldn't expand it to others. He was the only one she could trust, even if she didn't know it.

There were other matters to be dealt with though, like Potter figuring out how to win the first Triwizard task. That was supposed to be his main priority, not Isola. He needed to find a way to make the boy succeed. Maybe he could call him in for tea, like he had the Longbottom boy, and talk strategy.