Master of Death, Lover of Witches - 27 (Patreon)

Disclaimer: I do not have any rights of ownership for the characters used except the OC's. All the credit goes to the authors. Only the plot belongs to me.

Chapter 27

~ Tracey Davis ~Tracey Davis leaned her head against the cool, damp glass of the living room window, staring down into the dreary, grey London street below. A steady, depressing drizzle was slicking the Muggle cobblestones, reflecting the dull yellow glow of a streetlamp. It was late—past midnight, she was pretty sure—but nobody in this cramped, third-floor flat was even remotely close to falling asleep.Nobody had slept properly in two weeks.

Not since the night Daphne disappeared.Tracey let out a long, quiet sigh, her breath fogging up the glass. She swiped a finger through the condensation, tracing a mindless path. It was a Muggle flat, rented under a false name by her dad, Robert, who was a Muggle-born wizard with a healthy, life-saving paranoia of the new Ministry regime. It was small, drafty, and smelled faintly of old wallpaper and boiled cabbage, but it was safe.

Or, at least, it had been safe until the nightmare had crawled into their lives fourteen days ago.Behind her, the quiet murmur of the adults continued—carrying the usual undertones of anxiety and despair that had become the soundtrack of Tracey's life."We’ve tried the contacts in France," Eleanor Greengrass, Daphne’s mother, was saying, her voice thin and brittle, like dry parchment. She was sitting at the chipped laminate kitchen table, her hands clutching a cold mug of tea as if it were a life preserver. "Alaric, we have the gold. If we could just reach the French Gringotts branch—""Gold is useless, Eleanor," Alaric Greengrass interrupted, his voice hollow, exhausted. He was pacing the narrow stretch between the kitchen counter and the cramped hallway, his shoulders hunched, his usually immaculate robes wrinkled and stained with soot. He looked like he’d aged a decade in a fortnight. He went out every single night, wandering the dark alleys of London, searching, bribing, begging for any shred of information. "The Snatchers don't want gold. They want bounties from the Ministry. And the Ministry... the Ministry is run by monsters now. Gold cannot buy a daughter back from the Dark Lord's shadow."Tracey closed her eyes, a familiar, toxic wave of guilt washing over her.

She cursed Daphne.

She really, truly did.

She cursed her best friend for being so incredibly, stupidly brave. Daphne had gone out alone, slipping into the dark streets to find the ingredients needed for Astoria’s potions. It was a suicide mission, but Daphne had done it anyway because she was Daphne—the fiercely protective, stoic older sister who would have walked straight into hell if it meant saving her family.But Tracey cursed herself more.‘Why wasn't I there?’ the thought screamed in her mind, a relentless, punishing loop. ‘I should have been with her. I'm the half-blood. I know how to navigate the Muggle transit. I know how to blend in. If I had just been there, I could have stopped her. Or we could have fought them together.’Instead, Daphne had gone alone. And she hadn't come back.Tracey turned her gaze toward the cramped, velvet-upholstered Muggle sofa in the corner of the room.Astoria was curled up there, buried beneath a mountain of thick, woollen blankets. The younger Greengrass girl was a heartbreaking sight. Her skin was a terrifying, translucent shade of waxy pale, the blue veins beneath her temples showing clearly. She was shivering violently, her entire body wracked with tremors that had nothing to do with the draft in the flat and everything to do with the blood-malediction curse slowly eating away at her vitals.Without the daily restorative potions, her body was rapidly deteriorating. The curse, an ancient, dark-magic inheritance that skipped generations only to strike Astoria with a vengeance, was a ticking clock. And they were slowly getting out of time.Astoria’s eyes were open, staring blankly at the dark screen of a Muggle television set they had no desire to turn on."It's my fault," Astoria whispered, her voice barely a breath, her lips dry and cracked. "She went out for me. If I wasn't... if I wasn't so weak, she would be here."Tracey abandoned her post at the window, walking over to the sofa with quiet steps. She sat down on the edge of the cushions, gently pulling the blanket higher up around Astoria’s shoulders. She took the younger girl’s cold, trembling hand in her own, squeezing it firmly."Stop that, Tori," Tracey said, forcing a casual, banter-heavy confidence into her tone that she absolutely did not feel. "Daphne is the most stubborn, arrogant, ice-cold witch in the history of Slytherin house. You think a few low-level Snatchers can keep her down? She’s probably sitting in some holding cell right now, lecturing her guards on their terrible posture and demanding they bring her a proper cup of Earl Grey. She is alive. I know she is. And she is going to come back to us, if only to yell at me for letting you skip your dinner."Astoria let out a weak, wet chuckle, her eyes fluttering shut. "I miss her, Tracey.""I know, kiddo," Tracey murmured, her throat tightening. "I know."In the kitchen, the adults were still bickering. Robert Davis, Tracey's dad, was standing by the stove, rubbing his temples. "We have to consider the reality, Alaric. After the manor was compromised, and the Ministry is monitoring the Floo network... we might need to think about the Muggle routes. I have a cousin in Dover. He has a boat. If we can get to the coast—""And leave my daughter behind?!" Eleanor shrieked, her voice cracking. "I will not leave Britain without Daphne! I will not!""Eleanor, please, nobody is saying—" Emma Davis, Tracey's mum, started to soothe, reaching out to touch her friend's shoulder.POP.The sound was sharp, sudden, and incredibly loud in the cramped apartment.

In a fraction of a second, the entire room erupted into chaos.Tracey was on her feet before her brain could even register what was happening, her wand already drawn and hummed with a defensive shield charm. Across the room, Alaric Greengrass had his wand out, his body instantly shifting into a duelling stance, his face a mask of defensive fury. Robert Davis stood before his wife, his wand pointed dead centre at the small hallway where the sound had originated. Even Eleanor, despite her grief, had her wand raised, the tip glowing with a faint, dangerous yellow light.They were living like Muggles, hiding in the dark, but they were still witches and wizards. And they had wards.The flat was protected by a complex web of highly-sensitive alarm wards that Robert had meticulously woven into the building's structural foundations. Nothing—absolutely nothing—should have been able to Apparate or breach the property without triggering a deafening alarm.

Yet, the wards hadn't made a single sound."Hold your fire! Hold your fire!" Emma Davis shouted. She was the closest to the hallway, her hand holding her husband's arm down. "Look! Just look!"Alaric didn't lower his wand, his chest heaving as he stared into the dim hallway. "What is it? Robert, check the perimeter!"As the dust settled and the sudden, suffocating tension in the room began to ease by a fraction, a figure stepped out from the shadows of the cramped hallway and into the dull yellow light of the living room.Tracey’s jaw dropped. Her wand slowly dipped, her mind completely boggling at the sheer absurdity of the sight before her.It was an elf.But it wasn't the kind of house-elf Tracey was used to seeing. This elf was clean—meticulously, incredibly clean. She was wearing a tiny, beautifully tailored toga made of crisp, white linen, emblazoned with a combined, intricate crest of a thunderbird and a griffin. She had huge, liquid-brown eyes, and her long, bat-like ears were perked up with an energetic, bubbly posture.The elf took a step forward, completely unbothered by the five wands still pointed directly at her head, and curtsied so low her nose nearly brushed the linoleum floor."Winky be greeting the noble families!" the elf squeaked in a high, cheerful, and incredibly bubbly tone that felt entirely out of place in the grim, depressing apartment. "Winky be the house-elf of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter-Black!"Tracey blinked. She looked at her dad. She looked at Alaric."The Potter-Black family?" Tracey muttered, her voice laced with absolute, unadulterated confusion. "What the hell? Why would Harry Potter have business with us? And more importantly... how did a house-elf bypass our wards?!"Alaric Greengrass did not lower his wand. His eyes were narrow, suspicious. "Winky. I remember you. You were the elf of Barty Crouch. Why are you claiming to serve the Potter boy?"Winky spoke again, her large ears flapping. "The Great Harry Potter sir be Winky’s new Master! The Great Harry Potter sir be the Lord Black now, too! He be giving Winky a home, and clean clothes, and very important duties!"Alaric's wand finally dropped to his side, but he remained tense. He stared at the elf, bearing a look of profound, bewildered shock on his face. "But... how? How did he know? How did he find us?"

Before any of them could fire a single question at the bubbly little elf, Winky reached into the folds of her white toga. She pulled out a thick, heavy envelope made of expensive, parchment-like paper, sealed with a dollop of deep green wax bearing the crest of the House of Black.She held it out, her eyes twinkling as she looked directly at Eleanor."Winky be having this," the elf squeaked softly, her tone turning slightly more serious. "This be from young Miss Daphne."The words struck the room like a localized lightning bolt."Daphne?!" Eleanor shrieked.In a fraction of a second, the atmosphere of the apartment completely disintegrated. Alaric, Eleanor, and even Tracey scrambled forward, crowding around the kitchen table, their wands forgotten as they clamoured and gathered around, wanting to know where she was, how she was, and what the hell was going on."Is she alive? Winky, is she well?!" Alaric demanded, his hands gripping the edge of the table."Master Harry be saying someone must be the one to read the letter out loud," Winky said, nodding her head firmly. "So, all of you be hearing the truth."Eleanor’s hands shook so violently she nearly tore the parchment as she broke the green wax seal. She unfolded the thick sheet of paper, her eyes scanning the elegant, spiky handwriting. It was Daphne's script—unmistakable, clean, and carrying that characteristic, dignified posture, but there was a subtle shakiness to the ink that spoke of something amiss.Eleanor swallowed hard, wiping a tear from her cheek, and began to read out loud.“Dearest Mother, Father, Astoria, and Tracey,” Eleanor read, her voice trembling but gaining strength as she went.“If you are reading this, it means Winky has successfully bypassed your wards. Do not be angry with her; she is only following the orders of her Master, and she means you no harm. I write this to assure you that I am alive, I am safe, and I am currently recovering in a place where the Dark Lord’s shadow cannot reach me.”Eleanor paused, taking a shaky breath, her eyes scanning the next paragraph.“I must apologize for my absolute foolishness. I went out alone to secure Astoria’s ingredients, believing my own abilities would protect me. I was captured by Snatchers near London and transported directly to Nott Castle.”A collective gasp of horror rippled through the room. Alaric’s face went entirely white, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles popped. The Notts were notorious, sadistic purists. If Daphne had been in their hands...“They threw me into their private dungeons,” Eleanor read, her voice cracking as she forced the words out. “Theodore Nott Senior and his grandson attempted to force me to drop my family's blood-chastity wards so they could marry me to Nott Junior. When I refused, they... they decided to break me instead. I spent ten days in the dark, subjected to torture. I was prepared to die, Father. I was prepared to let my magic burn out before I surrendered my honour and my family’s honour to them.”Astoria let out a loud, heartbroken sob from the sofa, burying her face in the blankets. Tracey felt a hot, burning rage ignite in her chest, her nails digging into the palms of her hands.

Ten days.

Her best friend had been tortured for ten days while they sat in this flat, uselessly bickering.“But the magic of our ancestors did not abandon me,” the letter continued. “On the tenth night, Harry Potter breached the castle when he stumbled onto it by chance. He dismantled their security, slaughtered the Death Eaters patrolling the grounds, and killed Theodore Nott Senior in his own drawing room. He found me chained in the dark, broke my bonds, and carried me out of that hellhole in his own arms.”"He killed Nott?" Alaric whispered, his eyes wide with absolute, uncomprehending shock. "He assaulted a Death Eater stronghold... alone? And won?"“He brought me to his home—a place I cannot reveal as it is hidden by the Fidelius,” Eleanor read, her eyes scanning the page rapidly now. “He has placed me under the care of healer Apolline and Fleur Delacour, who have been working tirelessly to heal my damaged nerves and restore my magic. He has given me a sanctuary, Father. He has treated me with nothing but the utmost respect, and he has assured me that I am a guest of his house, not a prisoner.”Tracey leaned closer to the table, her mind working behind her eyes. She was listening to the words, but she was also reading between the lines.

Daphne was a Slytherin. She was proud, stoic, and notoriously difficult to impress. Yet, the way she described Harry Potter in this letter...“He carried me out of that hellhole in his own arms.”

“He has treated me with nothing but the utmost respect.”Tracey’s lips curved into a subtle, incredibly sassy smirk. ’Oh, Daphne,’ she thought, a spark of her usual, banter-heavy confidence returning. ’The Ice Queen is melting. You fancy him. You actually fancy the Golden Boy of Gryffindor.’And honestly? Tracey couldn't blame her. If a wizard had just broken into a Death Eater castle, decapitated her tormentor, and carried her off to a luxurious, warded manor filled with beautiful French women to heal her, Tracey would have probably fancied him too.Eleanor turned the page, her brow furrowing slightly as she reached the next paragraph.“Father, there is another matter we must discuss. While recovering, I have been informed of an ancient marriage contract that exists between the House of Black and the House of Greengrass. Harry is currently the rightful Lord Black. He has explicitly stated that he will not force this contract upon me. He has given me a choice. But... I want your opinion on this, Father. Harry Potter is strong. He is wealthy. He holds two ancient Lordships, and his magic... his magic is the only thing that has been able to stabilize my core since the torture.”"A marriage contract?" Alaric muttered, his hand running through his hair. "I... I had forgotten. My grandfather mentioned a pact with Arcturus Black, but we assumed the line had died out with Sirius."Tracey’s mind was racing. As a half-blood, she didn't have the same deep-seated, traditional obsession with blood purity, but she understood the cold, hard realities of their world. If Harry Potter had saved Daphne, and he was a decent man with two ancient, incredibly wealthy Lordships—Potter and Black—he was, without a single doubt, the most eligible bachelor on the entire planet. He had the political weight to protect their family, the magical strength to back it up, and the raw, unbridled power to send Death Eaters to their rightful place in the ground.’He’s a bloody catch,’ Tracey thought, her inner Slytherin purring with approval. ’Daphne would be an absolute idiot to say no to this. I would love for my friend to end up with a strong wizard who actually loves and protects her, instead of some inbred purist coward like Nott.’She was officially Team Harry. No doubt about it.“I have decided to remain here for a while longer,” the letter concluded. “I need time to fully recover my magic, and I want to assist Harry in his campaign. Do not worry about me. I am safe. I am whole. Please, send your replies with Winky. She is trustworthy.”“With all my love, Daphne.”The letter ended, and the silence that descended on the room was no longer the heavy, suffocating silence of despair. It was the quiet, trembling silence of a miracle.Eleanor dropped the parchment onto the table, her hand flying to her mouth as she burst into tears—tears of pure, overwhelming relief. Alaric wrapped his arms around his wife, his own shoulders shaking as he let out a choked, emotional laugh."She's alive," Eleanor sobbed. "My baby is alive."Winky curtsied again, her large ears flapping. "Winky be preparing to depart now! Master Harry be saying Winky must not linger too long outside.""Wait!" Eleanor and Astoria screamed in unison, their voices echoing loudly in the small room.The poor elf squeaked, jumping a foot in the air in fright, her big eyes wide with panic. "Oh! Noble ladies be scaring Winky!""I am so sorry, Winky!" Eleanor gasped, frantically reaching around the kitchen counter for a piece of parchment and a quill. "Please, just wait a moment! We must write to her! We must send her a reply!""Yes, yes!" Astoria chimed in, scrambling off the sofa, her blanket trailing behind her as she rushed to the table. "I want to write to her too! I want to tell her I love her!"Tracey didn't waste a second. She reached into her dad's satchel, pulling out a scrap of parchment and a Muggle ballpoint pen she had stolen from her dad's desk."I'm writing one too," Tracey declared, her lips curving into a wicked, teasing smirk.She sat down at the edge of the table and began to scribble her note. Her sassy personality flowed through the ink.’Daphne,’’If you think you can just run off with the Chosen One, get yourself rescued like a damsel in a Muggle play, and not expect me to tease you about it for the rest of your life, you are sorely mistaken.’’I am so glad you are alive, you stubborn idiot. Tori is safe and we will figure out her potion problem soon. But let's talk about the real news here—Harry Potter? Lord Black? Rich, powerful, and apparently very good with his 'wand'? You are an absolute genius, Daphne. If you don't marry him and bring me along as your chief bridesmaid, I will personally hex you into next week.’’Recover well. I miss you. And tell your 'Lord' that if he doesn't keep you safe, a half-blood Davis is going to show him what a real curse looks like.’’Love, Tracey.’She folded the scrap of parchment tightly, her heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. Beside her, Eleanor was hastily writing a long, tear-stained letter filled with maternal worry and advice, while Astoria was scribbling a sweet, emotional note to her big sister.They gathered the three letters, tying them together with a piece of string from the kitchen drawer, and Eleanor handed them to the waiting elf."Please, Winky," Eleanor said, her voice filled with deep, sincere gratitude. "Give these to Daphne. and thank your Master. Thank him for saving my daughter."Winky took the letters, tucking them securely into the folds of her clean white toga. She offered one final, bubbly curtsy."Winky be doing exactly that, noble Lady!" the elf squeaked. "Master Harry and Miss Daphne be very happy to get them!"And with a sharp pop, the elf vanished, leaving the apartment to the quiet, emotional aftermath of the miracle.Tracey slumped back in her chair, a massive, genuine smile breaking across her face. She looked at Astoria, who was clutching the crystal vials of ingredients to her chest, her eyes bright with a hope that had been completely absent for weeks."See?" Tracey teased, nudging the younger girl's shoulder. "I told you. The Ice Queen always wins."The relief in the room was palpable; a physical weight lifted from all their shoulders. Daphne was alive. She was safe.But before the adults could even begin to deliberate on the massive, political implications of Harry Potter being the Lord Black, or how he had managed to bypass their coordinates to send Winky...POP.The sound was slightly softer this time, but they were all on their feet in an instant, their wands drawn once more out of sheer habit.Winky stood in the hallway again.But this time, she was holding a second, much larger, and incredibly heavy leather bag. The bag clinked with the heavy, unmistakable sound of gold coins, and the scent of rare, expensive potion ingredients wafted out of the leather folds."Master Harry and Miss Daphne be sending this," Winky squeaked, her tone carrying a proud, happy note. "They be saying this first bag be only the start! This bag be holding all the ingredients needed to brew Miss Astoria's potions for the next six months!"She placed the heavy bag on the table, and with a soft chink, the leather parted, revealing a massive, glittering heap of exactly one hundred gold Galleons, alongside neat, labelled jars of powdered bicorn horn, dragon liver, the incredibly rare, restricted essence of Moonstone and Ashwinder eggs, and lacewing flies."Master Harry be saying," Winky continued, her eyes twinkling, "that if the noble families be needing emergency assistance from the wizarding world, or if they be needing to buy food or bribe the Snatchers, they must be using this gold. He be saying the House of Black protects its allies."Tracey stared at the heap of gold, and then at the jars of incredibly rare, pristine ingredients that would keep Astoria healthy for months.She let out a low, breathy laugh, shaking her head in absolute, unadulterated awe.Harry Potter hadn't just saved her best friend. He had looked at Daphne's family, found out about their biggest, most terrifying burden, and immediately took care of it without even being asked. He had sent them the gold to survive, the potions to heal, and the security to sleep at night.Tracey leaned against the kitchen counter, her lips curving into a wide, victorious smirk.’Yeah,’ she thought, her inner Slytherin completely, utterly won over. ’If I wasn't Team Harry before, I am definitely Team Harry now. Go get him, Daphne.’***The quiet of the London flat was entirely different now. It was the silence of a house that had been granted a reprieve from death.Tracey remained at the kitchen table, watching her dad and Alaric Greengrass carefully measure out the powdered bicorn horn into the bubbling cauldron. The steam rising from the brew carried a sharp, herbal scent, cutting through the damp, musty smell of the Muggle apartment."The fire must be kept at a steady simmer, Robert," Alaric was saying, his voice holding a trace of his old, commanding authority as a skilled potioneer. "Too much heat and the ashwinder eggs will curdle.""I know, Alaric, I know," Robert replied, though his hands were steady as he stirred. "Just keep an eye on the colour. It needs to turn a deep, royal purple before we add the moonstone."Tracey looked over at Astoria, who had fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep on the sofa, her breathing no longer the shallow, rattling gasp of a dying girl. The had already administered a preliminary potion bought by the gold Winky had lay on their table and it had already begun to ease the tension in her nerves, the violent tremors completely gone.Tracey took a slow sip of her own tea, her mind drifting back to the letter.Lord Potter-Black.It was a title that carried a terrifying, bloody history. The House of Black was synonymous with dark magic, madness, and a ruthless obsession with power.

But Harry... Harry was a Potter.

He was the boy who had fought Voldemort in a graveyard and lived to tell the tale. To have a wizard like that holding the keys to the Black ancestry, backed by the wealth and political weight of two ancient houses...The game was changing.Tracey smirked, her fingers tapping against her tea mug. The Death Eaters thought they had won when the Ministry fell. They thought they could hunt Muggleborns and half-bloods like animals in the streets, hoarding the wealth and power of Britain for themselves.But they had made a fatal mistake.They had poked the sleeping dragon. They had kidnapped the one girl who had unknowingly pulled the saviour of the wizarding world directly against their own Innercircle members."They're going to burn," Tracey whispered to herself, her eyes shining with a dark, satisfied glee.She couldn't wait to see the aftermath of this entire ordeal. Harry Potter will win, and when it all ends, she will be there by her friend’s side to watch the old order fall.