Draco was searching through the debris. He couldn't believe how long ago it's been now since the end of the war. Since the Savior defeated the Dark Lord. Draco ran his fingers through his longer white-blond hair. He hated referring to that shadow of a man as the Dark Lord but when your father has hammered it into your skull most of your life, it's hard to get rid of old habits. Draco hasn't been back to his old school since he left almost believing that Harry the one true wizarding savior was dead. But the savior defied all odds when he sprung back to life and defeated the evil bastard. Draco made his way to the infirmary. He needed to restock their medicine supply since his mother's injury and hopefully find some herbs to brew a few stronger potions for her.

Draco looked around. He remembered being here. The time when Harry cast the curse on him. Draco ran a hand across his chest. A subconscious gesture. They fought often enough. His mother told him that childhood rivalries were normal. If only Draco could take back what happened. If he could warn Harry and tell him what killing that bastard would do. Frankly, he would give anything just to see that prat's face again. Even if it was scrunched in disgust at the fact that Draco was once an evil prig. If only he could see how times have changed. Draco stuffed the bag full of potions and herbs. Now his bag was full. He would bring the cart next time praying this place remained untouched. Draco walked out of Pomfrey's office. He was slow to move trying not to provoke any of the undead that were in the other parts of the castle. Magic would make this so much easier.

Draco heard a low hissing sound from a nearby bed. Draco walked over to the bed to find a man strapped down. He remembered this man vaguely. His father did business with him once upon a time. A different time than now, Draco thought. He pulled out his knife from his belt. Draco looked the man in the eye. It was almost as if the man remembered him the moment the knife slide through his skull. Draco knows what happens the moment you think you're going to die. Nothing. But then again when gripping for your life on the back of a broom stick holding on to the last person you ever expected to save your life, Draco guessed his life wasn't worth much at that point. All he cared about was disappointing his father and breaking his mother's heart.

Draco wasn't paying much attention to the sound of growling sneaking up on him. He could barely react. He was able to stab the undead that was closest to him first but there were three more. He took down another but tripped over something big before he was able regain his composure and attack the other two before they could kill him and make him one of them. Draco wiped off his knife and picked up his bag. He looked over at the thing he tripped on. It was a person shape under a thick white sheet. Draco pulled the sheet. He fell to his knees taking in the sight before him. Harry bloody Potter was lying there in a perfectly preserved state. Draco felt the magic lingering off him. He wondered… Draco shook Harry. Nothing happened. "Well, I guess no one thought to check the one place you would probably be." Draco said to himself.

Draco picked up his bag and put it on his shoulders. He half contemplated leaving him. No way to carry him. Draco let out a sigh. Draco managed to maneuver Harry onto a sheet which he tied to a pole that he would use to drag Harry along on. He knew it wouldn't be comfortable but hopefully he would stay asleep the whole time.

Draco started the long trek home praying that nothing would get between him and his destination. After all he was hauling precious cargo. Not everyone can say that they saved the Savior.