General Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership over the works of J.K Rowling or T.S Eliot. No suing please.

General Author's Note: This is my new project – character sketches of all the male death eaters, in no particular order and following no logic. They should be viewed as separate sketches rather than as a unified whole. I have gained unprecedented inspiration from T.S Eliot and his poem of the same name – without him this would not be possible.

The Hollow Men

Chapter One: Barteimus Crouch Junior

We are the hollow men

We are the stuffed men

Leaning together

Headpiece stuffed with straw. Alas!

The house where he was born is now a prison – built not out of love but fear, for fear is the single greatest emotion of the human mind.

The memories of younger years fade into oblivion as he stares at the lines of children's books against one wall, tin wizards marching in crooked lines on top of the heavy bookcase.

The clumsy childhood paintings of dragons and ghosts line the opposite wall, fixed there clumsily with an immature stick-me spell.

Stuck in this place of innocence, he brews anger and revenge.

Plans formulate and fall within the mind half-corroded by Azkaban, and all he desires is power.

Power and praise.

The house elf leaves biscuits with too much chocolate and does not look him in the eye – but he understands her weakness.

For she too desires what is denied her, the smooth wooden handle of a wand, the magic spilling forth through mind into hand.

Staring into the mirror, Barteimus imagines his murderer's mask, lifts his nose and imagines the smell of blood, his ears attuned to the sounds of silent pleading for a life he wants to take.

He imagines his father begging, on his old arthritic knees.

Behind his portrait in the mirror is a room filled with innocence.