It was my first time speaking directly with Mr. Barty Crouch, but after walking together for only a short while, I understood why Percy Weasley admired him so deeply.
His short silver hair was parted perfectly straight, and his mustache looked as though it had been trimmed with a ruler. He wore his trench coat impeccably over his suit, topped with a classic bowler hat, and his shoes were polished to a brilliant shine.
"By the way, Mr. Percy, how are things with your girlfriend?"
"I hope they're fine, but no one can know what the future holds."
Mr. Crouch said this in a flat, emotionless voice.
"I've lived a long life myself, but regrettably, I've never been very perceptive when it comes to the subtleties of the human heart. The best advice I could give Percy Weasley amounted to little more than 'buy her flowers' and 'don't make excuses.' Just those two things."
Mr. Crouch smiled faintly, looking lonely.
"Losing someone close to you is always painful. The wound never truly heals over the course of a lifetime."
"..."
"But even so, life goes on."
His words were quiet, yet carried an unshakable conviction.
"…Are those words drawn from your own experiences?"
When I asked hesitantly, Mr. Crouch sighed as if to say, So you knew after all.
"Yes. I, too, am someone who devoted himself entirely to his work, so I have no right to speak from a position of superiority. Precisely because of that, my own failures weigh heavily on me. All one can do is learn from them and try to do better next time."
"So you wouldn't say you regret it…?"
When I made that slightly impertinent remark, Mr. Crouch replied with a strained smile.
"Saying I do not regret it is, at the very least, an act of bravado. Over the course of a not insignificant career, I believe I have contributed to the wizarding world."
"…Including sending your own son to Azkaban?"
"Of course. I do not believe it was a mistake."
He stated it without the slightest hesitation, then continued calmly.
"But it was a foolish choice."
When I prompted him to go on, Mr. Crouch spoke again.
"I did not understand human beings very well. That is why I lost to Albus Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge."
He paused there and peered into my face.
"Do you know what the greatest difference between me and them is?"
I shook my head. It was obvious that they were the winners and losers of political struggle, but Mr. Crouch clearly meant something else.
Above all, I could not grasp what common ground there was between Headmaster Dumbledore and Minister Fudge, whom Mr. Crouch lumped together as 'them.' Yet his answer was remarkably simple and clear.
"Dumbledore and Fudge favor their own. They would never honestly throw their son into Azkaban."
As for Minister Fudge, that much was easy to accept, but when it came to Headmaster Dumbledore, the point rang true as well. If Dumbledore had been as strictly rule-abiding as Percy Weasley, Hagrid would be sitting in Azkaban by now.
"And yet, I foolishly tried to be scrupulously fair. That is why I lost."
"Is it really foolish to be fair and impartial, without favoring one's own?"
Mr. Crouch's words were difficult to fully comprehend.
In hindsight, it is true that Mr. Crouch lost the political struggle and fell from power. Even so, wouldn't it have provoked even greater backlash if he had blatantly played favorites by declaring, "Even if he's a Death Eater, my son is an exception"?
However, my reaction seemed to surprise Mr. Crouch. His lips twisted slightly as he appraised me with a measuring gaze.
"How curious. For a Slytherin student to question favoritism toward one's own."
Caught off guard by his sudden remark, I found myself at a loss for words.
Come to think of it, blatant favoritism is indeed a hallmark of Slytherin. Within the house, of course, it is neatly rebranded as "camaraderie," but perhaps the essence is much the same.
"To be frank, I find that sort of Slytherin temperament unappealing. I much prefer the Hufflepuff notion of fairness. That said, I have no intention of claiming that the former is foolish and the latter wise."
Mr. Crouch's expression was tinged with irony.
"People desire fairness and impartiality for distant strangers, but favoritism for those close to them."
One of the most prominent examples of this, he said, is the infamous Slytherin ideology of "pure-blood supremacy."
"It is, in a sense, only natural for incompetent Slytherin students who have nothing to boast of except their pure blood to cling to such an ideology. But in Slytherin, even capable pure-blood wizards will favor incompetent pure-bloods over talented Muggle-borns."
This was a point I had often found puzzling myself. Four years into Slytherin, I could not help but feel that Ravenclaw's meritocratic, ability-based academic society was simpler and more rational when it came to evaluation systems.
And yet, Mr. Crouch claimed that this very "irrationality" was rational in another sense.
"Special treatment based on bloodline, favoritism rooted in nepotism, having one's existence affirmed and rewarded simply for being 'pure-blooded,' even without ability. Precisely because Slytherin is like this, it fosters an unshakable loyalty."
That, Mr. Crouch said with a sardonic smile, was the true nature of the camaraderie Slytherin prided itself on.
"Yes, exactly. It truly is 'love.'"
In other words, even Slytherin elites prioritize incompetent pure-bloods over gifted Muggle-borns for that very reason.
The loyalty born of this camaraderie unites Slytherin as one, often driving out Ravenclaw, which is frequently nothing more than a collection of individually brilliant but uncoordinated minds. A pyramid-style organizational structure topped by old pure-blood families gives Slytherin an advantage in command and control over egalitarian Hufflepuff and over Gryffindor, whose rebellious spirit rejects top-down authority.
"In the end, 'love' is simply special treatment."
Prioritizing family, lovers, friends, or neighbors over complete strangers is surely a fundamental human emotion, supported by goodwill.
"And yet, to me, 'love' appeared to be nothing more than a despicable double standard."
Under the noble name of love, was it not a kind of hypocrisy to justify discrimination through arbitrary standards of evaluation?
And was it not precisely this 'love,' the act of prioritizing one's own over others, that paved the way for the rise of that certain individual who championed pure-blood supremacy?
At its core, pure-blood supremacy is nothing more than the ideology of prioritizing the magical in-group over Muggles, who are outsiders. First, one loves pure-bloods, then half-bloods, then Muggle-borns, and finally Muggles, in that order.
"Because one loves someone, another who is not loved is discriminated against. Love leads to discrimination, discrimination leads to pure-blood supremacy, and pure-blood supremacy leads to the Dark Arts."
Mr. Crouch could not completely dismiss the suspicion that the 'love' preached by Albus Dumbledore and the pure-blood supremacy espoused by Lord Voldemort, though seemingly opposed, might ultimately spring from the same root.
"And that is why I could not trust Dumbledore. The justice embodied by the Ministry of Magic must not be the sort that prioritizes specific individuals, but one that truly pursues the common good of society as a whole."
"Equality under the law, then?"
"Exactly. Even if it is one's own son, if he commits a crime, he should be judged equally under the law. I once truly believed that."
Mr. Crouch spoke passionately, but his words were framed in the past tense.
"When you think about it, it's only natural. When things truly matter, when you are genuinely in trouble, someone who refuses to grant special treatment or exceptions may be worthy of respect, but you would never rely on them."
To treat everyone fairly and equally, granting no one special consideration, is to love no one at all. And thus, to be loved by no one.
"Dumbledore was different. Wouldn't you agree?"
Faced with Mr. Crouch's question, his expression a mixture of inexpressible contempt and envy, I nodded slightly.
No matter how much trouble Hagrid caused, Headmaster Dumbledore always defended him. He arranged special measures for Professor Lupin and bent numerous rules for Harry's sake.
That is why not only those he saved, but also Professor McGonagall, Sirius, Ron, and Hermione, devoted their loyalty to Dumbledore.
If it were Headmaster Dumbledore, who never abandoned even Hagrid.
If it were Headmaster Dumbledore, who stood by Professor Lupin.
If it were Headmaster Dumbledore, who helped Harry to such an extent.
Then when I found myself in danger, surely…
"That was the difference between Dumbledore and me. In the end, I was nothing more than the naked king."
Mr. Crouch sent even his own son to Azkaban. Many people held his impartiality and selflessness in awe, but at the same time, everyone thought the same thing.
When it truly mattered, Crouch would surely abandon them. No matter how loyal they were to him, he would treat them with the same fairness, impartiality, and equality as the countless others.
Because of that, Mr. Crouch never gained true allies or friends in the fullest sense. The lonely throne of Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, once its foundation wavered, crumbled with surprising ease.
"And yet you say you have no regrets?"
"Yes."
He answered without hesitation.
"Of course, I questioned myself countless times afterward. But no matter how many 'what ifs' I imagined, the conclusion never changed. My son was a criminal who deserved to be sent to Azkaban."
The elderly gentleman, once known by various epithets such as "the executioner of the Department," "Iron-Blooded Crouch," and "the clockwork razor," spoke while gazing somewhere far away.
"What a politician carries on his shoulders is not merely the lives of his family. At that time, I bore the lives of hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands in the wizarding world. I could not be a hero only to my wife and son."
All I could do was imagine how harsh an era it must have been when the old gentleman before me was young. Amid panic and chaos, people disappeared almost every week, were tortured, or had the Dark Mark cast into the sky above their homes.
"Have you ever wondered why so many powerful witches and wizards fought so heroically and died? When they could have fled using the convenient magic of Apparition once the situation turned against them."
"That would be…"
There was only one possible answer.
"They couldn't abandon their families… or their families were taken hostage, leaving them unable to escape."
"That is correct," Mr. Crouch said, nodding slowly.
"It is despicable, but exceedingly effective. At first, the Ministry of Magic held a numerical advantage over the Death Eaters, yet it was always forced onto the defensive by what Dumbledore called 'love.'"
In civil wars, it is a common tactic for the weaker side to take families hostage, something often seen even in Muggle conflicts.
In recent times, the drug wars in South America are a well-known example. Despite superior equipment and manpower, government forces hesitate to act because retaliation would mean the brutal murder of their families.
"That is why I concluded this. Public servants, who should pursue the public good over personal interests, must never allow love to undermine their duty. To stand against that powerful individual, each of us had no choice but to hold a strong ethical conviction to serve society as a whole above ourselves."
The method Mr. Crouch adopted was a harsh, uncompromising one, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.
"Even if a family member was taken hostage, I enforced the priority of duty above all else. Any official who could not endure it and colluded with the enemy was immediately sent to Azkaban."
A soldier should fear his superior more than the enemy. The fact that the Ministry of Magic managed to hold on even when it was on the brink of collapse cannot be explained without the iron discipline Mr. Crouch imposed.
"I forced many subordinates to sacrifice themselves and their families for the sake of justice. I demanded that countless supporters serve society as a whole rather than their own personal happiness."
And precisely because of that—
"There was no way I could make an exception for my own son alone. That would have been a betrayal of the many subordinates I ordered to die for justice. It would have been an insult to the tens of thousands of citizens who supported me."
For a brief moment, pride flickered across the old gentleman's face, only to be quickly overshadowed. Before I realized it, the sun was sinking, and a cold wind drifted in from the direction of the Forbidden Forest.
"Then… did you not love your son?"
After a short silence, I asked the question, and Mr. Crouch smiled sadly.
"I did love him, but not in the way I loved my wife. And I have never regretted that. The existence of someone I love renders me dysfunctional as a politician."
To remain a pure and upright politician, he sealed away his emotions as a private individual. Even if he could not love his son or grant him special treatment, that was, in his view, the correct posture for a public servant.
If he had loved his son as he loved his wife, it would only have given the Death Eaters an opening.
"When forced to choose between being a father and being a politician, I could not become a father loving enough to shield a criminal son. As a public servant, I acted correctly under the rule of law and subjected my son to judicial judgment."
He disciplined himself to avoid mistakes, suppressing emotion with reason. Everything was done to fulfill what had to be done and to properly carry out the role assigned to him.
Mr. Crouch remained a solitary politician to the very end. Because of that, he was never understood, nor did he seek to be.
And thus—
"In the world of politics, the darkness lies only a step ahead. Those who plotted my downfall seized upon my son's death and launched a coordinated counterattack."
They claimed that his son's delinquency was the result of Crouch neglecting his family for work, that his family was pitiable.
"Skeeter's articles always end in slander, but Lucius Malfoy and Cornelius Fudge made excellent use of it in their power struggle."
Even Death Eaters have families, and innocent children bear no guilt. Framed that way, sympathy for the Death Eaters naturally arose. Not only Lucius and the others directly involved, but also the moderate faction led by Minister Fudge, who wanted to prioritize economic recovery and end the 'hunt for the dark faction,' could justify pardoning former Death Eaters. Even Dumbledore could not push back strongly when 'love' was invoked.
Because Mr. Crouch had already earned resentment on many fronts through his hardline methods, the political balance swiftly tilted in Fudge's favor.
"Among the subordinates who remained loyal to me until the end, some advised that I should even now issue a statement as a father to calm things down."
However, Mr. Crouch steadfastly refused.
"The Longbottoms, whom my son reduced to shells of their former selves, were among my bravest and most trustworthy subordinates. They were left with only an elderly grandmother and an infant…"
Thinking of the bereaved family left behind, there was no way he could ever say that the perpetrator deserved leniency.
"My son was sent to Azkaban, and he died there. But even if he had lived, I would not have wished for him to leave that place…"
"Even if a pardon were granted?"
"Even then, I would have confined him to a cell within my estate and made him atone for his sins."
Having finished recounting his life, Mr. Crouch seemed to have aged several decades all at once. Deep sorrow floated in his dark eyes.
There were still many things I wanted to ask, but I could not draw out anything more. At that very moment, another figure suddenly emerged from the shade of the trees.
"Celestia, what are you doing in a place like this?"
The one who appeared with a suspicious look was none other than Professor Alastor Moody, better known as "Mad-Eye."
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