"Well, hello, Mother," Richard replied coldly, then turned to his companions. "Girls, go for a walk somewhere nearby. Mother and I have something we need to discuss."
The real Hermione stared suspiciously at the blonde woman.
"Richie, is everything all right?" she asked.
"Yes, Hermione."
Granger cast another narrowed glance at the stranger.
The time-travelling Hermione, meanwhile, was curiously studying young Grosvenor's youthful-looking mother.
Both students nodded silently and in perfect unison, though Richard's friend looked worried while the displaced Granger merely seemed intrigued. They moved about fifty metres away and stopped near the Shrieking Shack, from where they began watching Richard and his mother.
"Son!"
Tears glistened at the corners of the blonde woman's eyes.
"I don't remember you."
Richard's words struck the woman like a slap. The boy, meanwhile, continued in an icy tone:
"I don't even know your real name. You introduced yourself to Father as Laurie Cabot, the famous witch, one of the last to be burned at the stake. Original, but hardly convincing."
"Son, it had to be that way," the blonde said sadly. "My real name is Buffy Crouch."
It took considerable effort for Richard to keep his face as impassive as granite. He had read about the Crouches, among many others—a pure-blood wizarding family with ties to the families of practically every member of the Death Eaters: the Blacks, the Lestranges, the Yaxleys. Bartemius Crouch Senior was a widower and the Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation at the Ministry of Magic, known as a fierce opponent of the Death Eaters. He had not even spared his own son, sending him to prison. Barty Crouch Junior was a Death Eater, now deceased, who had failed to survive his imprisonment in Azkaban and died there.
And now it turned out that Richard was related to these wizards!
"So, Madam Crouch," Richard continued coldly, "you abandoned us—your husband and your child. Not only did you abandon us, you also took the Grosvenor family valuables with you. No one knew where you were or what you were doing for all those years, and now you simply turn up and tell me, 'I'm your mother'..."
"Richie, you've grown so much..." Buffy continued, her voice breaking with emotion. "Son, I'll explain everything."
"I'd be very interested to hear how something like that can possibly be explained!"
"Richie, there's so much you don't know..."
"A theatrical classic." Young Grosvenor rolled his eyes. "Madam Crouch, get to the point."
"I was born into a pure-blood wizarding family," Buffy began her story, her voice tinged with sadness. "Mum absolutely doted on my younger brother and me, but Father, Barty Crouch, was a despotic tyrant. Everything had to be done exactly as he said, and Merlin help anyone who dared contradict him. Even Mother couldn't say a word against him."
"Let's suppose that's true. There are all sorts of rumours about Mr Crouch."
"After I finished Hogwarts," Buffy continued, "Father wanted to marry me off to a two-hundred-year-old wizard who was rumoured to poison his wives whenever, in his opinion, they grew too old. He had a fondness for young witches..."
"Are you saying your father didn't love his own daughter?" Richard asked incredulously.
"Dad refused to listen to anyone," Buffy replied sadly. "He insisted that his friend wasn't like that, that all the rumours were slander spread by his enemies, and that the fact he had been widowed five times was nothing more than coincidence—an unfortunate accident, the sort of thing no one is immune to. But the facts suggested otherwise: over the course of a hundred years, that wizard had buried five wives. Not one of them lived to see forty."
"What a kindly wizard," Richard commented sarcastically.
"Richie, I was frightened," Buffy continued. "I was young, and I wanted to live. Anyone in my place would have chosen life. So I made a difficult decision—I ran away from home."
So far, the story seemed logical enough to Richard. He watched every slightest change in his mother's expression and could see that she wasn't lying. Either that, or she was the greatest actress alive.
"Let's suppose so," he said. "But what does running away have to do with you dosing my father with love potions?"
"It's a long story..."
"I'm free until six this evening," Richard countered.
Buffy yet again sighed sadly and said:
"I wanted to get out of the country, but I couldn't do it officially. The Floo Network was out of the question, and buying a Portkey wasn't an option either. Firstly, I didn't have so much as a Knut to my name. Secondly, authorised Portkeys are monitored by the Ministry, and you can't buy an illegal one without the right connections."
"You had no money?" Richard raised his eyebrows in astonishment. "A Crouch? I don't believe it!"
With sad irony and a hint of sarcasm, Buffy said:
"Daddy made quite sure that his daughter wouldn't, Merlin forbid, escape her marriage. He kept me locked up at home, gave neither my brother nor me any pocket money, and didn't even leave Mum with any cash. Whenever she needed to buy anything, he gave her exactly enough money for it, down to the last Knut."
"Remarkable... erm..." Richard searched for the mildest possible word. "Frugality."
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
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