proudly presenting...
BARTEMIUS CASPAR CROUCHdoes anything he's told by his master.
INSANE • LOYAL • PET Name : Bartemius Caspar Crouch
Nickname(s) : Barty
Age : Eighteen
Alliance (if adult) or House (if student) : 100% with the Dark Lord
Height: 5'10''
Weight: 143 pounds
Eye Color: Dark green
Hair Color/Style: Ear-length, straw-blond
Distinguishing Marks: Nothing special
Overall Appearance:
Straw-blonde hair covered the top of his head. Messy, unkempt, uncared for. It reached down towards his ears, just barely overlapping the top of them. The hair was odd-colored in places, an extremely light shade on the top, but getting significantly darker as each hair reached it's roots. Near his scalp, his skin, Barty's hair was almost a pure black shade. Exactly like wet straw. Dried on top, light, and sun kissed, dark at the bottom, moldy and rotten. Exactly like his hair; exactly like his soul as well.
Barty's eyes are an extremely dark shade of green, bordering on being called simply black. If you were to spend a long time gazing into them by a bright light, you would notice they were in the form of small swirls. The green intertwining with an unknown color that most simply called dark in a spiral shape, greener around the pupil, less towards the outside. Both of his eyes are adorned with long eyelashes that Barty is quite capable of batting, much like any girl. His eyelashes were of the same dark shade as his hair near the roots, the same strange almost black. His eyebrows, on the other hand, are the same shade of light blonde as the top of his hair. A strange mix for a strange boy.
His body-build was fairly frail for a normal boy of his age. Although he enjoyed the occasional game of Quidditch, he was never much for bodybuilding, or exercise in general. Barty only kept his frame thin through starvation, or simply missing meals because he was too much into a good book, a good conversation, anything. People often stared at him, seeing him carry a large load of books without much trouble on the frail looking, fairly thin arms of his. A couple people even claimed the kid was anorexic, but no one had ever bothered to find out, and Barty would surely have never admitted to having an eating disorder, even if he did. Of course, he was just naturally rather thin, frail looking, it had nothing to do with lack of mobility or any sort of disorders.
His skin was pale. Very pale. It seemed the kid had never been out in the sun before, perhaps he hadn't? Barty would have much rather been sitting alone, in the library or in his dorm, reading something, rather than outside doing anything else. Although, he did enjoy the occasional game of Quidditch, he was not on the team, therefore was not very good, nor did he get the chance to play much. His skin remained pale due to this chronic lack of sunlight. However, on the few days when Barty did manage to get some Vitamin D for his pigment, his skin tended to sunburn into a nice, red crisp rather than tan like that of normal people.
His school uniform, just like every other, consisted of a set of black robes. Long, velvet, heavy ones for winter, and more airy, cotton ones for warmer weather. The long robes reached down to his heels, and he often ended up accidentally stepping on them while walking. The hem, before it had gotten all shoddy and trodden on, was once decorated with a striped border of the silver-green of the Slytherin house. Beneath that, Barty wore the traditional grey shirt, with the Slytherin tie draped over his neck loosely, often crooked. His pants were of a plain black color, remaining the same throughout the whole year, no matter how hot or cold the weather. His shoes strongly resembled something a muggle might wear to a fancy party or a concert where they had to dress up. Shiny, sleek and with a small high-heel, the shoes elevated the boy by about an inch. At times, he still wears the school uniform around the house, when he's alone.
Now, he would never dare to wear anything even slightly reminiscent of muggle outfits around the house. His choice of clothes reflect his mood with their colors. Ranging from a vibrant red to pure white to a deep black, he's got a suit for every occation and often the color does not match the surroundings. He's been known to go out to murder in a pure white outfit, coming back with it stained with blood and dirty, but the smile on his face is worth one ruined suit. The suit would live on as a memory of that day's slaughter for the rest of its life, or until next laundry day.
Standing at around five feet and ten inches, eleven with the heeled shoes, Barty does not stand out easily from the crowd unless you get to know him. It's his personality that makes him different, makes him unique.
Strengths:
- loyalty
- recklessness
- an obsession with the dark arts
- telling lies without regrets
- promptness and great care in some aspects
Weaknesses:
- does not feel pity for most
- what is kindness anyway?
- lack ability to easily adapt socially
- complete lack of trust for the world around him
- jealousy and lust
Skills:
- curses & hexes & the like
- ancient runes
- finding his way around dark rooms
- public speaking
- noticing small details
Inabilites:
- cooking & most other household chores
- flying
- charms
- identifying plants or animals that aren't obvious
- writing
Likes:
- reading & faerie tales
- cats
- peppermints
- pain & the dark arts
- knives
- darkness
- shades of blue
- the ocean
- the dark arts
- garlic bread
Dislikes:
- chocolate
- frivolity
- crystal balls
- Barty Crouch Sr.
- poetry
- getting caught in trouble
- failing
- rules
- love
- anchovies
Habits:
- flicking his tongue in and out of his mouth
- chewing on his thumb nails
- counting the amount of steps between things
Amortentia:
- Bellatrix's perfume
- salty sea air
- fresh leather
- cigarette smoke
Boggart:
Boggart:
Two people, a woman and a man, step out of the darkness, both with sneering expressions on their faces. Bartemius Crouch Junior has known them as the two he wants to serve, the only two he really cannot decieve, and yet as their heavy eyes fall upon him, the young man is frozen in place, and their expressions are obviously disappointed with him. They approach him, the man standing back a little, the woman placing her hand across his cheek and giving him a sneering smile.
"You've been a bad little boy, Barty." She speaks with a cold tone, cruel and mocking. The man laughs. Barty tries to say something, but no words would come out of his mouth in the situation. "Horrible little boy, we were wrong... So wrong, just this once. You've got to pay for your crimes." The woman hisses again, giving a shrill, loud laugh. The man says something that Barty cannot make out.
The woman is Bellatrix Black, the man is the Dark Lord; the two people Bartemius Crouch Jr never wanted to lie to, to disappoint.
He is afraid of not being accepted into their ranks, of doing something wrong for them.
Erised: A world where he is Death Eater number one, so to speak, just beneath the Dark Lord. He is the Dark Lord's right and and best advisor. Everyone whom Barty has ever hated is dead, and the unworthy worship the purebloods.
He would see himself in fresh, emerald green robes, at the Dark Lord's side, with Bellatrix at the other. The Dark Lord would be offering the both of them praise, and the background would swirl between images of the dead and the punished living.
Overall Personality:
B
Batty you say? Silly you, you can't just stick a label on Barty and be done with it. While 'batty' does come rather close to being a general sticker you would find on Barty's files, it doesn't quite cover him, although batty he is. He manages to find himself in the strangest situations at the wrong times, making people doubt his sanity at best. For example, he claims to love cats, although when given his first kitten, he drowned it in the pool, knowing what he was doing.
A
While the younger Bartemius Crouch may be animated, it doesn't always apply to his characteristics. There are moments when he is engaged in a conversation so much that excitement takes over him, and every word is another gesture, another complete action. Every thought is important and every single letter counts towards what he wants to say. Then, Barty puts his whole mind and body into conveying his point. When excited, he is extremely lively, brinking on desperate. His facial expressions read into his emotions along with the body language he displays during these times. A lingering positive emotion would force Barty's features to mirror the stereotypical image of the feeling. A negative emotion, however, would take away this lively nature of one side of the young man. He feels free to speak his mind, no matter what the reaction might be in return. Something like guilt or misery would bring the boy's features into a solid stone, and an emotionlessness would droop over him. He would remain silent, even when asked a question he knows the answer to, and would do his best to not show it. The negative emotions are a sign of weakness to Barty Crouch, therefore should be hidden away.
R
To a certain degree, the young man is religious in his beliefs. He picked most of them up from his older friends, as his mother has no beliefs as far as he knows, and his father is a bloody git whom Barty would rather have nothing to do with. To Bartemius Crouch, there are two kinds of men. There are the purebloods, and there is the filth. They all deserve to die, although the purebloods do significantly less than those who aren't. The Crouch family has never been heavy supporters of the Dark Lord, with Crouch Sr working for the ministry, but Barty has taken on other beliefs. To him, the Dark Lord Voldemort is a god, trying to find salvation and power for those who truly deserve it. While he considers himself, among many others, unworthy of said power, he religiously follows anyway, seeing no other way to a good life besides through the dark magic. A bit of hypocrisy lies in his blood, however, as he is happy to enjoy muggle novels as well as wizard. On the other hand, he's paranoid as it gets about speaking with others whom he does not know. They could be up to something, or they could want something he was not willing to part with. One never really knows with people...
T
He tends to be taciturn when the excitement of a lively discussion or the curiousity isn't with him. Barty doesn't see a need for words without a clear, distinct purpose and even then, he speaks for the purpose of saying something, not for the purpose of entertainment. No, for entertainment, there are books and stories, there are paintings and dreams, but not human speech. Human speech leads to misunderstandings between people, which isn't healthy for either party. Although, when heavy emotion overwhelms him, Barty doesn't speak in hopes of hiding it from others around him. Without the excitement, he communicates in concise statements, often speaking in fragments, although his thoughts constantly trail on and on.
E
When curiousity is the dominant emotion in him, Barty is overly eager to learn of what he wants to know. So eager, in fact, that there are times when he would not drop the subject for anything until he is given an answer. These situations often go along with excitement. Thus, Barty can be found flitting around the person he believes can give him an answer, eagerly awaiting it until a satisfactory one is given. This case can also be applied to when he is eager to win a good argument, believing himself to be right. For instance, he must have his point proven, and he would not drop it until the other person, or group of people, agree with him. This tends to lead Barty into all sorts of rather awful situations, and of course when facing a group of people, he's been beat up numerous times.
M
Male?
I
Barty Crouch Jr is rather far from immaculate (because Lena couldn't think of another 'I' adjective). His many quirks make people stay away from him, wondering what in the world is wrong with the boy, or simply, what could possibly be right with him? He always has a book with him, always, some say he even takes showers with the book, protected with some sort of spell. When into a good book, Barty has been known to not move for hours, eight to ten at a time, burried in the story without anyone to interupt him. He could keep it up for days, until he simply withered away from lack of food and water if he could find a book long enough. Every so often, the young man also flicks his tongue out of his mouth in a very reptile-like fashion, as if tasting the air around him. His reason behind it escapes those around him.
U
Dealing with his father, the Ministry, and plenty of others whom Barty does not hold in high regard, his uncouth manner prevails. He does not have a nice word to shed for his own father, feeling the worst sort of hatred towards him. Then again, in Barty's mind, Mr Crouch Sr deserves every foul curse that has come from his son's lips. Mr Crouch did leave both Barty and his sickly mother alone for so long, and he never had time for the family, for which Barty Jr never forgave his own father. Then, there is the Ministry and everyone else whom Barty just does not like, and while they don't get as much of his annoyance as his father does, they get some of his attitude as well. Whenever the Daily Prophet reports some sort of Dark Lord action, Barty tends to find something wrong with the way they wrote about it, even if he has no idea what actually happened during the attacks.
S
Spontaneity is at home in Barty Crouch Jr as a dog would be by its master's side. If something appears to be a good idea at the exact moment when Barty thought of it, then chances are high he would follow through with the thought. Generally, he ends up regretting the action moments after he'd done it, although that's never truly bothered him. Along with the spontaneity, Bartemius Crouch lies complusively. Even if you just saw him pick up a book and toss it at your head, he would deny it on the spot should you question him about it. It's not completely clear if he is aware of the fact that he has done the action, and simply feels the need to deny it, or if the action is wiped from his mind, but the first is much more likely. This leads to Barty being a rather untrustworthy character when it comes to what he or one of his friends has or has not done. There are only two people he would not dream of lying to, ever.
Birth Date: April 14th, 1960
Blood Line: Pure
Parents:
Father Bartemius Crouch Senior, 53, Ministry official, alive, keeps up no contact and does not acknowledge his son's existence.
Mother Imelda Crouch (nee Rosier), 47, none, alive, sends an owl to Barty twice a year, on christmas and his birthday, without expecting a reply. She sometimes gets one.
Siblings: None
Other family:
Cousins - Maris, Melete, and Danica McCormack
House at Hogwarts : Slytherin
Patronus: Being accepted into the Dark Lord's ranks, thus defying his father, the Ministry and everything. The actual patronus takes the form of a hyena.
Dementor:
His time at Azkaban was no pretty unicorn ride across the rainbow. The arrival there, impossible to forget, scarred the young man for life. Heh. I need to change this.
Biography:
The Crouch family is related to many other pureblooded families since they all are interrelated after all.
It is believed that the Sr Barty never received much love from his parents, they'd only pushed him to become better, to excel in the arts. He grew up to work for the Ministry of Magic, pushed to his limits.
Barty Crouch Jr was born to Barty Crouch Sr and Mrs. Crouch on the night of January 24th. They were happy with having a son, happy with having someone to pass on the family name. However, as the young boy developed, the Crouch parents were not as overjoyed as they had been upon his arrival. Many others considered Barty Jr odd, strange, and insane even, and no cure that the two strove to find would help him. Eventually, they simply gave up. Barty Sr buried himself under the piles of work, staying away from home as much as possible and Mrs. Crouch simply wasted away without her husband. She was often bedridden and too weak to move. The younger Crouch was raised almost completely by the house-elf, and saw very little of his parents.
When the letter arrived for Hogwarts when he was eleven, both parents and child were over-joyed. The parents made sure that Barty Jr stay at school over most of the holidays, not wanting much to do with him at home, not wanting to even mention they were related to him. And the child... Well, he was happy at Hogwarts. He'd found friends who understood him, more or less, and people his age to speak to. He was no longer as alone as he'd seemed in earlier childhood.
He was sorted in Slytherin, which he considered to be a good house for himself, and quickly picked up on the habits of the other students around him. He'd always missed with what could easily be considered the "wrong" crowd, although they seemed to be the ones that understood him the best. His grades excel in Ancient Runes, when he was given the option of taking that class, and Barty plunged himself into it eagerly.
For once in his life, he felt like he belonged. Like he was needed at the place called Hogwarts. Although it had been home for a long seven years, the moment the young man graduated, he sought out the Dark Lord. After proving himself a worthy Death Eater through a number of tortures and murders commited along with several newly met friends, Bartemius Crouch Junior got the mark, and wore it proudly.
Now, he stood for everything his father worked against with the Ministry, he'd been the ulitimate bad child, and that was what motivated him for a time. Whether the Dark Lord actually knew this or not, he did not know. After half a year, and after he'd grown to better know some of the Dark Lord's other servants, Bartemius discovered his own passion and joy in the dark arts. There had never been a bigger thrill than watching someone else scream and feel physical pain. At first, he'd been a good servant to go against his father's will, but he became a servant out of loyalty and passion.
Current Occupation:
Place of Employement: unemployed.
Position:
Longevity:
Pet : none
Name:
Type:
Appearance:
Wand :
Length: thirteen and a half inches
Core: dragon's scale
Wood: rowan
Flexibility: unyielding
"You don't understand at all... do you Saisha?" The boy's voice rang out rather loudly through the small owlery, piercing the silence of the sleeping owls around him. He was sitting in a corner, completely alone with the owls among the wood-shavings. A large Horned Owl sat, perched on a bar above the boy's head, and slightly in front of him. Every so often, the owl would open one large, yellow eye, and even give a feeble hoot at the boy. It was clearly trying to sleep, but the boy would not quite let it. Every time the owl dared to drift into a small doze, the boy would speak once more, asking another question or making a statement, as if the owl had replied instead of merely closing its eyes. Most of the other owls in the owlery had actually moved away to rest on bars further from the boy, closer to the window. He'd been there most of the night, if not all of it.
The owl let out a low hoot, and the boy in the corner narrowed his light-blue eyes in its direction, his head tilting slightly to one side. "What do you mean?" His voice questioned the bird, causing it to merely turn away, as if it had said something and he'd just insulted it. Finding nothing insulting in what he'd said, the boy with the straw-blonde hair got up, reaching one of his thin hands upward to attempt to stroke the huge bird. Opening its wings, the owl let out another annoyed hoot, and hopped away from the boy. As he continued approaching it, however, the bird finally got sick of the boy and flew out the window, perhaps to only return with the morning mail for the boy come breakfast. "Well.. If that's how you'll be then, Saisha." He stated, his nostrils flaring.
The boy was Bartemius Crouch Jr. Barty Jr. Just Barty. The boy had spent the night in the owlery, speaking to the owls. He didn't think they spoke back to him, he didn't even pretend that he understood what they said, but they hooted at him, and he questioned them, as if they were having a conversation. After his own, Saiphan, had left, Barty felt much more alone in the room. The owl had been given to him by his mother shortly before she fell sick and sometimes Barty thought it was the owl's fault, but he loved the large bird anyway. Maybe once it died, Barty would eat it.
Sighing, he wandered to the window cill, swinging at first one leg over the edge, then another. Thus, facing outside, Barty was perched rather precariously between the warmth of the owlery, and the huge fall from the tower unto the grounds below. "No, I really don't think so." He stated once more, as if someone had said something to him,, but nothing had been said. He heard footsteps behind him, but didn't bother to react in any way. He didn't care much for whomever had entered anyway. Maybe they'd even push him off the edge of the window cill.
The lunatic is in his head.
By no means was Barty suicidal, but he was curious about what would happen should he fall from the tower, yet not enough to actually jump off. Should someone have ordered him to jump off, he probably would have done it, but no one was around to give him an order besides whatever was causing the footsteps.
An owl flew past him, brushing his cheek with a wingtip, and Barty still did not move. It wasn't until he heard a slight stumble in the footsteps that caused him to turn around did he tear his eyes away from the grounds far below. Without moving much of his body, Barty turned his head and his pale-blue eyes met those of a Gryffindor girl whom he knew by name, but not well enough to call her a friend. "Lilian Evans. Redhead. Green eyes. Gryffindor." He stated softly, more to remind himself of who she was rather than to greet her, but he was sure he heard. Both of his hands gripped the edge of the window ledge as he swung his legs back around. Barty was no longer in danger of falling from the tower, unless he fell over backwards now, but even then he'd need a little push.
Hopping off the edge of the stony cill where he was perched, he took the several steps across the room to stand in front of the girl. The blonde boy tilted his head slightly, his blue eyes widening to horrendous proportions, looking at least twice as big as they should be. "What do you think would happen... if I were to fall from the tower?" He questioned, his voice filled with urgency and curiousity at the same time. The question was lodged in his brain, and he wanted to know the answer as soon as possible. Lily was the only other human in the room, and Barty was stuck having to ask her, but she would not get away from him now until he got a good answer. He didn't want to learn through trial and error, he wanted to learn by asking questions. Barty didn't like making mistakes, but he wanted to know the answer. "What would happen?"AS PLAYED BY LENA
That girl with an intense love for gore.
15 years of enjoying life
AIM - Miss Lena Lecter is how you can contact her
5 moons of roleplaying experience
