Collected

The sound of a door opening and closing loudly rang throughout the small living area, gaining the attention of the small form sitting on the rug in front of the coffee table.

"Izzy? Izzy, where are you, sweetheart?"

"In here," came a high-pitched voice, and Barty Crouch, Jr. kicked off his boots and padded into the den, plopping down on the floor next the the toddler. He immediately hugged her tight against his skinny chest, mock biting her and making not-so-threatening noises so that she giggled and flailed.

"Stop it, Batty, stop it!" She shrieked, and he laughed, ceasing only when he figured she needed a bit more oxygen.

On the coffee table in front of them was a half-done puzzle, the moving picture being that of a Sphynx. Barty looked around, noticing that Regulus was nowhere to be found. "Izzy, where's Reg?"

"Sleepin'. He said he was pooped from da' mo'ning," she laughed, reaching out for a puzzle piece and locking it into place with the others.

"Okay, well, guess what I saw today!"

The little girl turned to him with wide, interested eyes. "What?"

"Guess!"

"A Hippo-- Hippogrit."

"No, not a Hippogriff," he said in an over exaggerated voice that only toddlers could appreciate.

"Okay, 'den what did you see?"

"I saw," he started, leaning down so that his forehead was almost flush with hers. "When I was on my way back to town, a little group of animals at the front of a wooded area."

"So?"

He chuckled at her attitude. "So, it was a mummy dog with about six little puppies!"

Isola gasped, bringing her hands to her mouth as her green eyes got impossibly bigger. "Really?"

He nodded. "And, that's not all. In with all of the puppies was an all black kitten."

The little girl cocked her head to the side, confused. "Why wasn't da' kitty with its mummy?"

"I don't know. Something might've happened to the kitty's mummy, so the mummy dog took it in and decided to take care of it. It fed with the puppies and everything."

"Why didn' you bring da' kitty home?" She always had so many questions.

Barty laughed to himself, looking her dead in the eyes, and said, "I was told not to bring home any more strays." He continued to chuckle, like he had just made a joke, but the little girl didn't understand. Barty took one look at her still-troubled face and composed himself. "Izzy, that mummy dog is going to take care of that kitten. I promise you. Just like I take care of you. It's going to protect that kitten, and feed it, and make sure nothing happens to it, and I'm going to do the same with you."

She frowned, taking hold of one of his long fingers. "Batty, are you my mummy?"

The Death Eater frowned with her, licking his lip, unsure of how to answer the question. "No, Isola, I'm not, and I'm not your daddy either. Your parents were... Well, they were very bad people, so I took you away from them."

"You did?"

He nodded, this being the fourth time he had explained it to her. Maybe now she was old enough for it to sink in.

"What happen' to my mummy and daddy?"

"They were taken care of so that they could never hurt you. I made sure they would never be able to hurt you, or turn you into the kind of bad people that they were."

Isola stared at him but soon dissolved into a smile. "Thank you, Batty!" She threw her tiny arms around him, nuzzling into the hollow of his collarbone, and he could only hug her back.



Isola was roused from the textbook she was not reading by Draco. He shook her shoulder gently, and she looked up in question, a sort of dazed, happy look still on her face.

"Come on, tournament's about to start."

She nodded and shut the book, getting up and following him out of the common room. "Also, whatever you're doing with your face, that smile thing you've got going on, you should stop it. It's weird."

Isola laughed, purposely knocking into the blonde boy as they walked down the dungeon corridor. He may have annoyed her almost all the time, but every once in a while, he was okay. She still didn't like him, but she would tolerate him.

There was a large stadium a ways from the castle, and news that the champions would be taking on Dragons had spread like wildfire. It was all very tense and exciting, Moria clutching onto Isola's arm painfully as Viktor Krum almost got roasted at one point.

The objective was to retrieve a golden egg that the dragon was guarding. Diggory did it almost seamlessly, and the little French girl was pretty smooth, too. Krum just seemed too bulky, and Isola was sure that he wasn't the brightest, but he succeeded in the end.

Potter had the most trouble with it, summoning his broomstick from Merlin knows where and flying all around, the Hungarian Horntail following once it broke free of its chains. For a long time, the audience sat with nothing to watch, just listening and waiting for the Dragon to either return with Potter bloodied and mangled in between its giant teeth, or flying desperately as the Seeker soared in for the steal.

The latter happened, much to Isola and just about every other Slytherin's dismay, but the stadium cheered, shrill screams ringing out, which was a bit irritating considering the fact that almost the entire student body of Hogwarts had been tormenting the Gryffindor about getting into the tournament in the first place-- making fun of him and calling him a cheat. It was amazing what a simple win could do to a group's faith. If those kids weren't considered fair-weather fans, Isola didn't know what was.

All the while, the girl's neck burned a bit. It wasn't all that bothersome, but it was distinct enough to distract her. Isola chose not to mention this to her friends, still not sure of what it meant.



The dragons were all anyone could talk about for the following days. Hogwarts resumed classes, waiting for the next round of competition. There was, suddenly, a new subject, however, taught by everyone's Head of House: Dancing Lessons.

Isola actually laughed out looud at the idea of Severus Snape teaching the Slytherins how to dance.

"The Twiwizard tournament," he explained in his baritone voice, "Includes a Winter ball. Think of it as a way to advertise and celebrate the champions." His left eye twitched, and Isola guessed Potter crossed his mind. It was no lie that Snape resented the boy. "The traditional dance is a waltz. Miss Crouch, if you would please assist me."

She deflated a bit but stood, walking over to her Head of House as he charmed a record player. Laughs and wolf-whistles were heard throughout the large room, and the brunette felt her face burn. At least she knew him on more than just a professor basis.

"You owe me for this," she muttered, and he nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Please, I just knew you wouldn't dare step on my toes," he responded, "One, two, three. One, two three." And, the rest of the fourth years watched and snickered.

It was, all in all, an awkward encounter, but she didn't fully mind, mostly because she would hate to put the Potions Master through demonstrating with Pug-Face Parkinson or someone else equally as annoying. After a solid three minutes of having to do her best to ignore the fact that Severus Snape had his hand on her waist, he stepped away and commanded his students to get up, find partners, and practice so that they did not bring shame to Slytherin house.

Two arms were immediately around Isola, and she twisted to see Weiss smirking. "Oh god, I think I'd prefer Snape, actually."

The boy pouted, but she turned and took his cold hand. Why not humor the boy?

Draco was stuck with Pansy, naturally, and both Crabbe and Goyle had nabbed two unfortunate females. It was annoying, really. Now, the entire school was going to be worried about finding dates to this ball, distracted from what really mattered. It was events like this that reduced the students into what they really were: simple-minded, hormonal teenagers.

Isola didn't care about the hormones, though. She had bigger things to worry about like Barty and Voldemort. This dance was so petty in comparison. This entire Triwizard competition was petty in comparison, actually, but the fact that Potter was a part of it made it something worth watching. She'd be damned if he was in it just for sport. Something was supposed to happen to him, and judging by his track record with the Sorcerer's Stone and the Basilisk, it would more than likely happen at the end of the year.

The lesson was dismissed after an unbearbly long hour, and the students went to dinner. Isola received three propositions upon entering the Great Hall, two Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw asking if she'd accompany them to the dance. She turned all of them down, none-too-nicely, and joined Moria at the Slytherin table.

"It's happening to you, too?" She questioned, and Isola nodded.

"Half of me just wants to get a date so people will stop bothering me about it," she mumbled, and Moria laughed in agreement.

"Date? Did you say date, as in to the Yule Ball?" Weiss asked, sitting down.

"No, fuck, anyone but you."

He frowned, but she knew he'd bounce back in about seven minute's time, just like always.

It wasn't a bad idea, though. Just nab one of the many guys who wanted her and get it over with. Even though Isola wasn't going to focus on the dance, she knew that there would be a very small nagging in the back of her head just because underneath all of the dark, Death Eater upbringings and her cold exterior, there was still a tiny bit of actual, human girl buried somewhere deep within her. She'd been trying her hardest for years to crush it, but it proved to be quite resilient.

"Think I might just go with Marcus," Moria murmured.

Isola gagged. "Flint, honestly? Mor, you can do so much better."

"Well, we've already fucked. What's a dance?"

"Yeah, well, you've also fucked Wood, Diggory, both Weasley twins, possibly Weiss, and many more."

"One, I've never once even considered sleeping with Macnair," they both leaned forward past Isola to glare at one another, "And, the others that you've listed are all drop dead gorgeous. You have to admit."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Whatever. Just go with someone who's not Marcus. God, he's such a tool."

Her friend rolled her eyes, but they made small-talk throughout the rest of dinner. Isola left before anyone, wanting to write the Carrows back, as she still hadn't. She could feel eyes on her back, and she knew that they did not belong to any suitors who were watching her retreat. No, when she turned, it was just Moody staring hard at her, which was not a surprise in the least.

Exiting the Great Hall, she came very close to running into another figure, just stopping short as they did. Looking up, she found one of the many Durmstrang boys who quickly apologized.

"It's fine, just glad you didn't run me over."

He chuckled and nodded, holding out a large hand. "Alexei Pavel."

"Isola Crouch."

"Oh," his eyebrows shot up on his handsome face. "I have heard very much about you." His accent was thick, like the others, but she could understand him perfectly and lifted an eyebrow.

"Really? Hopefully, you don't believe everything people say about me, then."

"I have heard you have the potential to be a very powerful vitch."
Isola laughed. "Okay, that you can believe."

He cracked a smile. "My Headmaster has also mentioned you. He says he knows you from a past time."

Karkaroff. Of course he remembered her. He had been a Death Eater. Rumor had it, he had renounced the ways of the Dark Lord, though.

"Right, I'm sure he does. I have vague memories of him as well." He didn't show up to every meeting, so she couldn't remember him as well as others. His face had struck her when he and his students had first entered the school. Once Dumbledore introduced him, she had known why.

"Anyway, it was nice meeting you, Alexei. Unfortunately, I've got a Potions essay to finish."

He nodded, understanding. "Of course. Until next time, then."

They parted ways, Isola thinking of Karkaroff instead of the handsome boy himself. She had never really thought about it, but Karkaroff knew who she really was, had been, more like-- Iris Fenwick. He knew of what actually happened the night Barty took her. Was it possible, after he renounced his old ways, he told people of that? Did Dumbledore know? Did Moody know? Was that why he watched her so closely, why he treated her nicely face-to-face? Did he think that there was still hope for her because of her real parents?

There were far too many mysteries at Hogwarts this year. Isola only wanted to be concerned with Barty's escape and whereabouts, but she had to watch her own back as well. At this point, she wasn't sure who was an enemy and who wasn't, so she'd have to watch everyone extra closely.