You could tell a person's character from the little things.
After Barty Crouch was freed from captivity and the dispute settled, the first thing he did was straighten his clothes.
His movements were precise and methodical, from collar to cuffs, hairstyle to trouser hems. He missed nothing.
Once he had finished, he seemed to fall back into his familiar routine.
He sat down in the very center of his own sofa.
"I'm curious, Mr. Dark Lord."
He lowered his voice, as if only that could match his fastidious nature and his status as the master of Crouch family castle.
"Why didn't you take the seat of honor? As far as I know, you've always been very domineering."
"Because I chose to show you respect, Mr. Crouch."
Voldemort rested his elbow on the sofa and leaned forward slightly. "When I visit a place, I usually choose to respect its host. It has nothing to do with anything else; it's simply a matter of courtesy."
"What are you planning to do to me?"
Crouch asked loudly, then glanced at his son. "Take my child away from me? Kill me to stop me from reporting what you've done to Fudge? Or imprison me?"
Voldemort turned to look at Barty Crouch Jr. His brows knitted together, and his face twisted into a strange expression of disgust.
"Listen to what your father's saying."
His voice brimmed with sarcasm. Then he turned back to Crouch and said gravely, "You're suggesting I kill his father in front of my most loyal and courageous child. Is that something a person could even say?"
Crouch shifted uneasily, causing his tie to slip slightly out of place.
"Or do you have a better suggestion?" Crouch asked.
"Truthfully, none of us have a choice."
Voldemort stood up and ruffled the head