Patrick, Talion's loyal and scarred house elf, stood over a shallow grave.
It wasn't anything grand or important. Not to any other beings, at least.
A lone hedgehog laid in it, its eyes burst and blood pouring out of every orifice. Well, that trickle of blood had already pretty much died.
With a wave of his bony hands, the grave closed. Two sticks arranged themselves to a cross. With another snap, the words 'Hedgemort' were engraved onto it. Patrick nodded and looked at the cross next to it. The horizontal stick for that stick read 'Ratlord' in neatly carved lettering.
"Master should just snap these nasty soul shards out of existence," the elf tutted to himself with a shake of his head.
But the loyal elf knew not to overstep his bounds. His master was smart, much smarter than the master's mad grandfather. Smart enough to know his limits, Patrick was certain.
Softly shaking his head, Patrick reappeared beside his sleeping master, carefully adjusting the blanket to shield the young man from the harsh winter night.
—
Days later, Patrick watched his master get ready for a date, as he called it. He was going to take a witch to see a muggle movie in a cinema. Once his master was happy with his appearance, the young wizard apparated to London.
Patrick followed.
Not because of an order, not even because he wanted to see who this young girl was that might become his mistress soon enough.
He wanted to see what this movie would be all about. He had never heard of such a thing before.
—
Patrick did not understand the movie.
Weren't muggles supposed to have no idea about magic? Then how come they found such an advanced magical item and then film its discovery? This 'Jumanji' board game could even allow the players to summon beasts and travel through time!
Patrick would have to consult with his master how this was possible.
But only after he would stop licking the insides of that red-haired witches mouth.
—
Just before going back to school after the winter break ended, his master explained to him that the movie was based on a made-up story. The board game wasn't real. Nothing like that was in the possession of muggles.
That reassured Patrick greatly.
It meant all those people his master allowed him to hunt and kill had no means of fighting back. He could keep hurting those who gladly hurt others.
—
The snow had finally melted and Patrick stood in a cold, rainy alleyway in the middle of Manchester. The muggles couldn't see him as they were loading a young girl into a rusty van.
Patrick would have been all too eager to kill those bad men himself, but his master had given him a task.
"Go ahead," Patrick whispered into the wind with a spell.
Three shadows fell from above, instantly killing all three kidnappers with hidden knives. Following that, a fourth shadowy figure raised its wand, the struggling girl slumped into unconsciousness. Two of the killers gingerly picked her up as the one with a wand turned and led the way for them.
No orders needed to be given. They were going to place the girl back into her home, reinforce the locks, and make her forget what happened.
"This is very satisfying," the third killer argued after moving over to Patrick.
"Yes, Mistress Amanda," Patrick solemnly agreed.
"Can you find us another target?"
"Tonight?" Patrick asked in return as a small crease found its way on his scarred face.
The hooded form of Amanda Evert, the leader of the squibs living in Goldsborough that Patrick had rescued from forced prostitution, only tilted her head.
An idea formed in the elf's mind.
"Patrick knows a place called Cheetham Hill," the elf slowly recalled. "The muggles call it a red light district. Many women look unhappy there. Patrick killed someone called John there and stole his drug money. But the place did not get better. Another man called John took over the place because the police never showed up despite Patrick handing over the evidence."
"Take us," Amanda more ordered than suggested, but Patrick only grunted in acknowledgement.
Master had been very clear, he was to help them anyway he could. Unless it clashed with his other orders.
—
Patrick frowned in irritation. Urd, Verdy and Skuld had ample time to perfect their cooking. Patrick had taken them to a butler school, several restaurants, and he had allowed the three sisters to learn from the elves at Hogwarts to turn all those recipes into something they could recreate with magic.
Then why was he looking at a burned down kitchen in his master's new home?
"Urd is very sorry," one of the elves said as she trembled.
Patrick didn't stop frowning, but he still gruffly spat words of comfort, "Master is very kind. He would never scold you. He would also not like when Patrick would scold you."
Urd looked almost hopeful, but her ears still folded back in embarrassment, guilt and sadness as Patrick continued, "But Patrick would not do his job if he didn't report this to master. Someone has to pay to buy the stones and wood to make the kitchen like master wanted it."
"Urd will go out and find bad man to kill and bring their money," the elf fearfully promised.
Patrick shook his head. The older elf gave the kitchen a last look before declaring, "Master will decide. But Patrick is sure master will not allow that. Urd will clean as best she can and learn from the mistake so that nothing will ever burn again."
With that, Patrick popped away to Hogsmeade as Urd was busy getting rid of all the soot and ash.
—
The old elf looked on in mild annoyance. His master had just come back from the magic school. The young wizard would leave for that tournament that he was sure to win again, so then why didn't he tend to his people?
Why was he in London again sticking his tongue down that pesky red-haired witch?
But then Patrick sighed.
It was only right for his master to do what he pleased and for Patrick to do what was needed so that his master didn't have to.
…too bad Mistress Amanda wouldn't quite think that way.
—
Patrick stood at a muggle airport with a deep unfeeling frown on his face. Verdy and Skuld stood behind him with tearful faces.
"You heard master, we will keep his home safe while he is away," Patrick ordered as he watched a 'plane' with his master and his minions on it take off.
His master had only taken Urd with him to tend to his needs.
"Will they really be gone for so long?" Verdy asked with a grief-stricken face.
Skuld's body shook despite the warm summer winds.
Patrick turned to face both of them before he concentrated on Skuld, reminding her, "Master gave you the most important task of looking after the children. Master said that everything is for nothing if the children grow up without happiness and hope. Patrick hopes you will not disappoint master."
Skuld suddenly straightened and nodded hard and fast enough to make their master worry that her head would fall off. Patrick studied her for a bit longer, remembering why his master had given such a task to Skuld if it was so important. She was definitely the kindest of the three sisters, always secretly catching the babies before they could fall and hurt themselves.
Just one toddler from Mistress Bernice and newborn twins from Master Bob and Mistress Catherine. Skuld wouldn't have much to do. Chances that she messed it up were low.
Turning to Verdy, the elf Patrick liked least from the three sisters, the scarred leader of Talion's elf sighed.
His dislike came from the fact that Verdy had been named Verdandi by their master, but since she was too young and stupid, she had committed the grave sin of getting their master to rename her to Verdy, a name she could pronounce. Their master had noticed and had ordered Patrick to take Verdy under his wings for all the things he did that wasn't killing people.
Like taking stock of their money and transporting materials for his many missions and operations. Despite how slow Verdy was at the start, Patrick could begrudgingly admit that Verdy had a knack for numbers and logistics.
She wasn't dull after all.
—
Patrick stood in Hogsmeade, impatiently tapping his foot.
That blasted bird was late. Master had been very insistent that Nyx was to be released near Hogwarts at the start of the school year to look for someone she wanted to take care of her while master was gone.
But that feathery menace was late! Patrick knew the bird was smart enough to remember their appointment, so then why wasn't it here?
Patrick clutched the package his master had given him with precise instructions and frowned in irritation.
If Nyx didn't come, he would have to wait until the one to receive this gift left the school grounds. Patrick wasn't sure if he was allowed to enter without his master present at school, they hadn't discussed it.
Family house elves could only enter Hogwarts if there was a family emergency, otherwise those school house elves would tattle on them. No master, no emergency.
—
"Here," Patrick said as he shoved a package into the bushy-haired witch's hand. He sniffed the air, catching the scent of that rotten bird that missed their appointment. His scarred face grimaced as he angrily ordered, "Tell that stupid bird that it missed the day for the pick up. If it had, Patrick would not have had to wait in this stupid wizard town for two days."
Hermione Granger blinked at the elf in front of her, unsure of what to say. Both of her parents were simply stupefied and a little scared of the menacing creature in front of them.
"Master wishes you a happy birthday," Patrick said as he remembered one of the orders he was given in regards to what to do in case Nyx didn't arrive before he met the birthday girl.
Before the girl could respond, Patrick snapped his fingers and disappeared.
Two days wasted when he could have made sure Goldeyborough would flourish in his master's absence.
Patrick was angry.
Patrick decided he would take Mistress Amanda to kill more criminals tonight.
—
Patrick frowned at the package he received through muggle mail at a mailbox in Leeds. He recognised his master's handwriting instantly, but this time there were no instructions.
Only a small card that read, 'Last gift. Thanks for your hard work. TM'
Another gift for one of those magicals attending the school. Why would his master care for all these people?
Patrick looked down at the diamond-crusted wrist-watch on his bony arm.
Why would his master care so much for him?
The watch had been a gift from the young lord after Patrick sent his master a letter to inform him that their net worth had reached fifty million pounds after the investments into the squibs they sought out bore fruit… and Patrick hadn't been idle either, now that the assassins Goldsborough trained needed to test their blades.
Patrick shook his head and apparated back to their city.
They didn't take in muggles, but their numbers had still increased after Patrick did what he was ordered to do.
Almost a hundred witches and wizards now lived in the thriving city.
After the not-guilty verdicts for every lord accused by Madam Bones of human trafficking and forced prostitution, master had given the green light. Patrick and his group of trained assassins destroyed every single hideout that had been uncovered in the buried evidence.
—
Patrick stood in Knockturn Alley.
The place had transformed tremendously in recent times. Its reputation was still quite bad, but nobody would dare sell illegal substances from sentient or magical creatures anymore.
Cursed items? Forbidden books? His master hadn't cared.
Virgin blood? Unicorn horns? Patrick killed every shopkeep and owner with those kinds of items in stock. If he couldn't, he would burn down the store.
There were whispers among the remaining seedy crowd of a 'Silent Thread Killer'.
Patrick was that killer.
He turned to a young man next to him, asking, "Traps?"
The young man looked around, his eyes flashing not unlike his master's sometimes did.
The young man nodded.
And Patrick frowned.
With a snap, they reappeared in a forest. Another snap, they reappeared at a stormy cliff. Snap after snap, the elf and the young man jumped all over the east coast of the British Isles before arriving at Goldsborough.
By the end, the young man could no longer stand and fell to the floor with a pale face.
"I don't think I'll ever like this form of travel," the young man whispered to himself.
Patrick shot him a look but managed to bite down a scathing reply. His master only complained once. This Mario guy complained every time.
"You will be able to fly back to Italy two weeks from now," Patrick reassured.
But Mario just spread his hands and indignantly argued, "I don't want to go back. I haven't managed to woo a single lady here!"
"The ladies here are all broken. Master did not ask you to come here to fix them. Master ordered you to find traps so that Patrick doesn't have to fight the ministry."
Mario studied the scarred elf, like he so often did, and just sighed.
Moments later, he argued, "If your master hadn't saved my brother and my fiancée, I wouldn't have come at all!"
"Yes yes," Patrick waved away. "Patrick will remember to inform master to tell your fiancée about you trying to woo the ladies."
"You can't!" Mario shouted and managed to stand up. Pointing to his eyes, he argued, "Come on! Haven't I saved your grumpy ass dozens of times already? Those aurors kept trying to find ways to box you in! They are trying to find the one who killed all those death eaters during the 'Quidditch Massacre'. Without me here, they would have seen you kill with that ridiculously sharp rope and connected the dots, implicating your master!"
Patrick looked at the young Italian man for a short while before relenting, "Fine. Patrick will keep the secret."
As Mario trudged away, still nauseous from the repeated apparition to throw off any scent, he didn't see Patrick's gloating smirk.
Patrick was thankful that Mario helped. But Patrick was also not happy with his flirtations.
Normally, they would only need to apparate three times to throw off anybody trying to follow.
Patrick, with his tremendous magical capacity and experience in long-distance apparition, jumped a dozen times.
Just out of spite for Mario.
—
Patrick sighed.
It had been a long day. At least it was a happy day.
His master had once again claimed victory in a dueling tournament. He had shown his otherworldly talent by decimating his opponents without even picking up a wand.
Patrick was certain that if the pampered wizards would allow the duelists to fight in close quarters instead of standing in squares, his master would dominate his enemies even more.
Instead, his master humiliated everyone by advancing an age bracket and fighting without a focus.
Patrick's forlorn expression slowly turned into a proud yet scary smile.
As expected of his master.
Patrick looked down at the table after putting away the Daily Prophet with the article about his master.
On the table was an ornate box. Inside that box, a silvery locket.
"Blasted Kreacher," Patrick spat. "Took a whole year before agreeing to master's demand."
—
Patrick grinned. It might have looked like a monster's snarling face, but it was a happy smile from the bottom of the elf's heart.
His master was finally back.
Patrick stood behind him as he ate a lasagna he had put all his heart into making and enjoyed his master's quiet noises of appreciation following every bite.
"Anything I should urgently know?"
Patrick snapped his finger, the box he had been silently cursing appearing on the table next to his master's almost empty plate.
"Finally managed to wrestle it from that stubborn elf, huh?" His master wistfully exclaimed. "Anything you promised him in return?"
"Patrick told Kreacher he would consider advising master to marry Lord Black's French daughter. Kreacher's mistress insisted."
Patrick's master coughed into the glass of water he had been drinking. He waited until the young wizard steadied himself and asked him, "Why would Walburga want me as a Black?"
"Does master not remember that you told her you were a Lestrange in secret?"
"Okay, what does that have to do with anything?"
"Kreacher reads his lady the Daily Prophet every day. Naturally the cursed portrait would think of you as a worthy match for one of the last eligible Blacks," Patrick explained with a smirk full of schadenfreude.
"I thought she was insistent that Draco was a worthy successor?"
"Lord Doggy made that impossible," Patrick swiftly explained. "He struck the mother and the cur from the family tree over an argument."
His master turned in his seat, both of his eyebrows rose almost to the young man's hairline. Incredulously, he asked his elf, "Sirius removed Narcissa and Draco from the Black family tree???"
Patrick merely nodded. The elf didn't know the how or why. But he had overheard that ugly portrait curse up a storm over this matter whenever he came over to persuade Kreacher to hand over that blasted horcrux for his master.
"Damn," his master uttered with wide eyes that slowly turned into a grin. "Sweet."
"Lord Dog has also managed to convince a witch to throw him a litter."
That made his master thoughtful. A few moments later, he asked, "Do we know who?"
"Mistress Bones. She is currently this big already," Patrick explained as he gestured in front of him with both bony arms.
His master's mood immediately dropped considerably.
"More power to them," his master muttered and turned back forward. The young wizard allowed his finger to touch Slytherin's Locket and Patrick tensed. The curse on the silver item was very strong. He could feel it whenever Patrick opened that lockbox to make sure the item was still there.
But different from what Patrick would believe would happen, absolutely nothing changed. His master's mood stayed the same, his aura and magic felt the same, and he didn't cry out in pain.
"Just you, the Deathly Hallow and the spectre left," his master whispered with calculated amounts of venom in his voice.
"Will master take their souls again?"
"No," his master answered immediately. "The strain was not worth the effort. Despite my occlumency, I've become more ruthless. It took me way too long to throw off the influence last year. The knowledge I gained in comparison was too little. The founders were correct."
That blasted bird broke into the parlor before Patrick could reply. Immediately, Nyx landed on his master's hand and loudly complained while flapping its wings in their master's face.
Patrick was about to scold the feathery menace, but his master began laughing.
"Sure! Let's go take a flight together, Nyx!"
His master tossed the bird up before changing into his raven form and joining him in the air. Both black-feathered birds swooped outside, leaving Patrick to stare at the window with something between an indulgent smile a father would give his small child as it licked a lollipop in delight and a bloodthirsty snarl.