~ Chapter Three ~

Draco spluttered; the ability to breathe becoming more arduous as the time went on. He had to explain what had happened. He had to help Harry understand why this was happening even if he couldn't get the words out. Harry needed to understand more about this situation than just the single name he'd uttered. However each breath he took grew weaker and Harry had become frozen in fear.

The name spoken wasn't what Harry needed to hear. It sent shivers down his spine and brought up memories he'd hoped were long forgotten. Memories flashed behind his eyes, each one more bold and brilliant than the last. The war certainly hadn't been pleasant. Nevertheless he needed to pull himself together. Certainly he wouldn't be escaping if every new revelation caused him to fall back into memories. Besides he wasn't the only person stuck here.

"Draco, I need to move this piece so I can pull you down." Harry spoke, a tremor in his voice. "Can you stay awake for a little while longer?"

The tremor beneath his words didn't fool Draco. Harry knew he could hear how terrified he was for the both of them. He wouldn't deny it. However given their age and the amount of suffering they had gone through during that time, they were allowed to feel terrified.

Draco had aged well. There were a few lines on his face, more than likely from strain, but otherwise his blond hair and silver eyes remained as formidable as ever. Cold and piercing, no one stood a chance against them. Harry envied that. He'd learnt the hard way dying didn't always mean dead, just the same, years ending and beginning didn't mean one was aging. He still held the same youthful appearance as the second time he'd been hit with the cursed green spell.

Reaching up for the piece, Harry paused. Magic stirred in the air yet underlying the familiar tones was something dark and twisted. Harry couldn't pinpoint it but something about this wasn't right. Turning to Draco, Harry froze. Once steely eyes were dim and glossy, his past nemesis was dead. Disbelief twisted within him. He couldn't do this alone. He hadn't the strength currently to fight against this foe again. Arms dropping to his sides, Harry bit back a sob.

Hope fled. He was alone and there wasn't anything he could do about it. He may have been the Master of Death but that didn't mean he could return the dead to life. Draco would leave behind his wife and their son. No one would know what had happened to him. No one would know where to search for the body. The body of his school nemesis would forever remain here trapped within this manor's wards.

Just as he decided to turn from the scene, Harry felt a tug. A startled cry left his lips as he flew across the room. Magic raged in the air signalling his foe had returned. The familiar magic brushed up against him occasionally pulling and twisting his robes, ripping pieces to shreds. Wide eyes could only stare at the ceiling as he flew through the air. Harry smashed into the fountain knocking it and its contents onto the table. He felt the liquid seep in to his robes in patches yet didn't comprehend why it had happened completely. Shock poured through his mind wiping out any other thought.

Harry didn't feel the pieces of broken furniture bite into his skin. He didn't even acknowledge the tickling sound as his crown fell to the floor and rolled beneath the table. Dark hair clung to his face, streaked with blood and other substances he rather didn't want to think on. Not that it did any good, eventually when he bathed, he would see everything.

When he finally stopped he knew he was at the far end of the table. Everything on the once pristine table had been knocked about as Harry had sailed through. Blood soaked white robes clung to him turning his complexion sickly. Yet they only grew worse as the liquid spread across the table, slowly dripping down the edges and onto the floor. Eyeballs stared at him accusingly yet one silver grey eye similar to Draco's caught him off guard.

It could only belong to Lucius Malfoy.

Tears spilled. Harry couldn't quite believe after all this time no one had even considered this. Everyone had thought they were safe once the Second War had been finished and the Dark Lord defeated. When Death Eaters started to disappear, no one mourned. No one cared they had disappeared. The Death Eaters didn't turn up and no one was hurt as they "escaped". Harry knew better now. They were all dead.

Before he could even think of moving a pair of hands fell either side of his face. Red eyes peered into startling green.

"You're meant to be dead."

Voldemort laughed in his face. He had definitely never looked better. His appearance was rather youthful and looked like an older version of Tom Riddle. The only thing that remained from his time as Voldemort was the snake-like red eyes. Harry assumed this appearance was common after he'd begun tearing pieces of his soul the first few times. Yet it was rather startling to see. The Dark Lord had never looked better and Harry had never felt worse.

The Dark Lord leant in, his smile becoming possessive and shark-like.

"I believe you and I have quite an amount to catch up on, Harry Potter."


Dean and Sam ran. Listening to Peverell wasn't doing them any good. They'd heard the basics and that was all they truly needed. Harry was in trouble, so Harry would be the one they rescued whilst Voldemort would be the one they killed. It was really that simple. Yet when they arrived at the end of the hall, they realized they couldn't have been more wrong.

The scene they arrived upon made even them nauseous. In their line of work that certainly spoke quite an amount. Blood lathered the room from an overturned fountain. A body remained stuck to the wall, impaled and still. Human body parts were strewn across the room seemingly from at least ten differing people. Yet it wasn't this body that they were concerned about. It was the one on the table.

Through the gruesome scene there was a white stained body lying frozen in fear with another taller man standing over him. From the description they had received the hunters could tell the body lying on the table was Harry Potter, the one they were meant to be saving. The boy was petrified, pale, and desperate to escape. That left the other as the demon they were meant to target, Voldemort.

Sam and Dean cast a look at each other. The demon felt menacing, something which the other demons they'd faced hadn't quite managed to do. Certainly the demons they regularly dealt with weren't perfect but them they at least could handle. However they knew this one was different.

Voldemort was capable of much more and all because he was a wizard that had sullied his soul. Neither of the pair quite understood how he had managed that only that he had and to the wizards it was a crime punishable with a one way ticket to Hell to the end of time. This rescue would take skill and not just running in guns blazing. They wouldn't be able to defeat him without more knowledge and that required a rescue mission not a homicide. The killing of the demon would have to be done much later when they knew how to rid the world of a wizard-demon.

Grimacing at their predicament, Dean and Sam settled down for the right moment to act.


Harry stared into red eyes. Never before had he felt so helpless. This situation brought forth every single detail he'd gone through to kill the Dark Lord the first time around… well second if you included Halloween. With so very many questions and desperation to flee, Harry accepted his trapped position and asked,

"How are you here?"

The sharp smile did little to alleviate any concern he had over his future lifespan. Hands were placed on Harry's head further trapping him in a rather submissive position. The Dark Lord wouldn't let him move from this position. He seemed to find it rather amusing.

"After you torturously killed me one soul piece at a time I was left to rot in Hell-"

"It's where you belong." Harry snarled, reacting without thought.

Voldemort's nails broke skin. Harry's breath hitched but otherwise he remained silent. Blood seeped from the tiny half-moon cuts running like tears down the sides of his face. Harry offered him a slightly pained smirk. He wouldn't grant Voldemort the satisfaction of hearing him scream when the Dark Lord held all of the power within this room.

"Hell," Voldemort continued, "was rather an enjoyable place for someone like me, Harry, so perhaps I should be thanking you. I learnt quite a few new tricks from beings far older than I. However any gossip that came my way I listened to especially when it concerned travelling top side."

Worry flooded Harry. New tricks? Certainly that didn't mean anything good for anyone that crossed the Dark Lord's path. Harry didn't need reminding of what had happened to those Death Eaters who had betrayed him again and those, though loyal, that had been dismissed from their pleas. The Dark Lord would return. Should he travel to England, he would return far more powerful and dreadful than any other Lord.

"Then there where whispers a gate would be opening."

Harry's stomach fell. It was rather obvious as to where this was headed.

"Everyone would be released, we were told. You can bet I was one of the first ones there and the first one out as two idiotic hunters released us. However that was a few years ago now, after all I had to obtain as much information as possible before moving forward with my plan."

From where they were listening Dean and Sam flinched. They had come across numerous demons they'd let out of Hell. None however had been as desperate for revenge as this. Dean couldn't quite cope with the mention of Hell either, having been released from those doors only recently he still felt the pain flowing through him from numerous hooks. Not that it helped recently discovering the existence of angels and the possibility of Lucifer rising. Everything just seemed to be going downhill for them.

"Why did you do this?" Harry questioned returning attention to the situation at hand.

It took little imagination to realize what he was asking about.

"I couldn't just allow my follower's to desert me. They needed to be taught a lesson. So, as soon as I was out, as soon as I had located our glorious ancestor's Manor, I hunted them down. One by one I ensnared them and punished them for abandoning me and my ideals as they did. After all new followers would be much more eager to obey and I simply don't need the past to stand in my way."

The horror must have been written across Harry's face as Voldemort cooed down at him reassuringly.

"Oh no, Harry, I didn't bring you here so I could kill you off like them. You are after all my equal and the Master of Death."

Dean's gaze hardened at those words. How did one become the Master of Death? What did the title even mean? This topic hadn't been mentioned at all when Ignotus had spoken to them. This little unknown factor could lead them into quite a bit of trouble. Yet for answers they would need to get Harry out and for that they needed a distraction.

"Killing you," Voldemort continued, "wouldn't be worth the time. You would simply return here and I don't want to grant you a taste of what you could have with those angels. You and I, my dear Harry, are going to bond and together we'll rule the Wizarding World killing every single muggle in our path."

The hunters cringed knowing now what muggles were. They were muggles. If they were correct, most of the people on the planet were muggles. This psychopath was going to practically kill off the entire human race which would leave demons and other nasty creatures of the night freedom to do as they pleased. Lucifer's Seals would be unlocked without any resistance and then the end of the world truly would occur. This certainly wouldn't do at all.

Harry cringed for another matter entirely. Though the Dark Lord had retained quite a number of his appealing physical traits, Harry would never be able to see past his tendencies to kill everything the Dark Lord disliked. It wouldn't get them anywhere and Harry wasn't about to sit back and allow the Dark Lord to do as he pleased.

"You are correct about one thing." Harry whispered.

His magic was gathering. It hadn't been able to because the Dark Lord had kept such a tight leash on the wards surrounding the property but now he was distracted by Harry and his future plans to dominate the world. Harry could feel his magic simmering beneath his skin yet using it before the time was right wouldn't help at all. He needed to save it as long as possible. Until the right moment…

"What is that, Harry dear?" the Dark Lord crooned.

Blazing green eyes met startled red.

"I am the Master of Death and your equal but I wouldn't bind myself to you if you were the last being in creation."

A knife flew into Harry's hand. Using the sudden startled expression to his advantage Harry slammed the knife into the side of Voldemort's face. The screaming was horrible. The blood pouring from the wound managed to splash across Harry's face but he cared little. He jumped up, racing across the table to the other side of the room. His feet splashed through blood yet miraculously didn't trip.

Not a glance was cast at Draco knowing it would be useless. He would inform people where to look once he was out. Instead he dragged a chair, feet scrapping loudly across the tiled floor, to the edge. Flat against the wall, Harry stood on the chair and jumped to reach the railing. He scrambled up and over the edge to the second storey.

Yet even this one instance of good fortune wouldn't grant him a break. As soon as he'd caught his breath Harry was running again. There was only one hallway leading from the balcony and he wasn't about to let the Dark Lord reach it before him.

As soon as he'd rounded the first corner Harry collided with a wall. No it wasn't a wall but at his height the person felt like a wall. He struggled madly hoping desperately he would be able to attack at least one weak spot. Arms wrapped around his waist trapping his arms in a tight embrace.

"It's alright."

Harry ceased fighting. This person wasn't Voldemort. Two men stood before him, the tallest of the pair had his arms wrapped around him. They were human. Harry could tell that in an instant by the way they carried guns. Of course men carrying guns could only mean they were also hunters but at that point in time Harry couldn't care.

A snarl caught their attention. The Dark Lord had ceased his emotional spat and had discovered he was missing.

"Come on, we have to go." The shortest of the pair spoke.

The pair pulled him through corridors until they reached a stretch of corridor that ran straight. Harry could feel their confidence at escaping. It gave him hope that they would escape this manor in one piece. Yet as they reached the door Harry could feel the Dark Lord gaining. Passing through Harry turned only slightly to wave a hand, forcing his magic to slam the doors on Voldemort's face.

A screech rang out through the area which only had them moving away faster.

Three steps down from the manor there was a car waiting. Harry was ushered into the backseat before the two jumped in and started the engine. They sped away towards a small town below. The town was silent which gave Harry comfort. People wouldn't have to see him looking like some bride from a horror movie.

Glancing down, Harry knew he was covered in blood though it had dried. He could also feel other pieces he didn't want to even acknowledge. So much had happened over the past few hours he couldn't feel anything but overwhelmed.

The car stopped but only the taller man left the car. He returned moments later with two bags, quickly storing them in the boot of the car and stepping back in. The motel entered their review mirror moments later. The town doing the same a few minutes after that.

Harry understood they wanted to get as far away from Peverell Manor as possible. Yet Harry was still in the car. He desperately wanted to ask them what they planned to do with him, given what he was. Would they lock him away or send him to a mental institute? Certainly they wouldn't be returning him to his home. There was no way he would be able to get home without a passport and there were few if any magical areas in America.

"Who are you?" Harry instead questioned quietly.

The tallest of the pair turned to look at him, cringing at his appearance. Harry didn't blame him.

"I'm Sam and this is my brother, Dean. You're Harry, right?"

"I am."

Harry didn't feel the need to say anything else. He'd seen the portraits on the way out. Each of them had cast him such sorrowing looks he couldn't help but realize these hunters knew who he was. This pair knew exactly who he was and yet even as hunters they hadn't killed him. They had chosen to save him.

Questions began forming in his mind. Harry bit his lip. Could he ask them? Would he be permitted to ask them? His choice was taken away from him.

"What's on your mind?" Dean asked, glancing in the rear-view mirror.

"Why did you save me?" Harry blurted out.

That wasn't exactly what he'd wanted to ask first. However it had been on his mind for the majority of their escape.

Shock appeared on both faces. "What do you mean?"

Harry swallowed. This certainly wasn't what he'd wanted to do. However they seemed determined to show him they wouldn't be doing him any harm. So he decided to speak up.

"You know what I am. You know that I'm a wizard and the Master of Death. So, given that, why did you choose to save me?"

Dean and Sam seemed to silently fight each other using only their eyes before Dean sighed obviously losing their battle.

"One of your relatives spoke to us and convinced us to give you a chance. So we saved you."

Harry could sense there was something else hidden in there that Dean had wanted to sat but didn't. Instead Sam appeared to take the lead and turned to face him.

"Yet there are still blanks in our information of you. We… I was hoping you would be able to fill them in for us?" Sam questioned.

He looked so hopeful Harry could only nod his head. The information they had earned by saving him. If they wanted their payment through information Harry wasn't about to let them ask otherwise. He would grant them all the information they desired. First however, he needed to know…

"Where are we going?"

"To a friend's house, they'll help." Dean spoke rather briskly.

Harry accepted this as well. While they had rescued him they weren't willing to trust him with every single detail of their lives. They were smart at least in that area. Personal information, if given to the wrong person, could be deadly. Harry frowned picking at his sleeve.

"When will we be arriving?" He questioned glancing up at them for the first time.

"Two days, why?"

Harry could tell they were both confused by his question. He felt a small smile cross his face as he answered.

"I think I'm ruining your backseat."

There was but a moment of silence before…

"Son of a bitch!"

I can't believe I killed Draco off... I just... I'll be in a corner. Hope you enjoyed the chapter.