VI. Blue

Barty Crouch woke up one day and decided that magic was blue.
Blue as the sky.
Azkabans windows, he mused, were small, without glass, but the view was simply horrifying and beautiful.
Nightmare inducing and peaceful.
Dementors, storm clouds, the ocean and the endless sky.
Two faces, quite like magic.
He'd been a Ravenclaw, his childhood cloaked in blues, dreams, thoughts and magic.
He'd been a deatheater, his adulthood cloaked in blues (believes), blacks (robes), reds (blood) and magic (blue).
He was in Azkaban.
The view through his window was his world and his desire, was blue.
Magic was blue.