Chapter 4: The Path of Destruction

Harry walked down one of the many confusing streets back to the hotel. His tour of the town had taken him to the lowest valley to the highest mountain that held a large house over run with weeds. It looked very quiet, and when he walked by it he could see a little girl playing on a set of swings outside.

The house gave him the creeps and quickly walked back down the stone steps of the trail he came up. When he got back to the hotel Dean was just heading in the door to his and Sam's room. Harry was sitting on his bed when the argument broke out in the room next to him. Sounded like Sam was mad at Dean. Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed the remote by his bed.

After watching a random show about teenage girls rescuing their city from evil he heard the door open and close next to his. Harry turned off the television and looked at his door. It didn't take long before the knock came on his door, a knock some how he was expecting.

"Coming." Harry gave a shout as he jumped up and ran for the door to let the stranger in. "Oh Dean it's you. What can I do for you?" Harry moved aside to let the older brother into his room. It didn't take long before Sam came out their room and into his to, no doubt, ensure Dean did nothing stupid.

"I want to know why you're here! You show up on a long dark road, and with nothing but your bag and a book, might I add. Suddenly just seeing you and my brother helps you with no questions but your name and why you were there. I don't trust you, and I want answers, I'm not leaving till I get them. None of this I don't know bull shit." Dean was angry and determined.

"I don't know what to tell you besides what I have already. I don't know how I got there, I remember waking up in a field I don't remember getting to. My name is Harry Potter, I lived in England for all my life. What do you want from me?" Harry was shaking and stuttered the end. No this was not a good day. First a creepy yard then being yelled at by some ass who thought it was OK to give him shit. Who did Dean think he was?

"Who are you to come in here and asking me these things? It's none of your business first of all and second of all your brother is the one that offered me the ride. Why don't you ask him what's in his head? I should have never accepted the lift, nothing can ever go as planned always something coming across my path and ruining my life." Harry was angry, he wasn't going to put up with this any more, he had to deal with it in England before he…no, this kind of thinking wasn't going to happen. He wasn't going to let all his hard work go down the proverbial drain by some childish adult who was playing teen angst.

Sam looked at Harry with a smile, "You know Dean, he does have a point." Dean gave him a dirty look for his comment. "Just hurry up and tell me what it is you want to say and get out. I don't need to stay here and hear this." Harry said nastily. "I've seen you some where before, I know I have."

Harry shook his head, no, he wasn't going to take it any more. "I don't care, just leave. You've said enough." Sam went over to his brother and dragged him out to the hall. "Go to the Impala, I'll meet you there." Before Dean could even argue Sam was back in the room with the door firmly shut.

"I'm really sorry Harry, Dean doesn't trust other people very easily. It's just odd to him that I'm willing to help you with no questions. Normally I wouldn't but I'm going on instinct and they tell me I should. I have a feeling it'll come in handy one day. We'll see ya around Harry." Sam smiled and walked out the door leaving a bewildered Harry behind.

Harry wasn't too pleased with Dean Winchester at the moment he walked out the door to the motel. He didn't know where he was going to exactly, what he did know was he needed to get out. He wasn't sure what Dean wanted but he had this sinking feeling it was something to do with the fact they recognized each other.

Harry turned the corner and looked up to see a coffee shack a block away. The sign to his right indicated he was on the corner of Main and Hill. Sigh, this road again. Harry thought to himself. Farther down Main; to the very end exactly; was that creepy Mansion and just being 10 blocks from it gave him shivers down his spine.

The coffee shack wasn't very big, in fact it seemed smaller inside then it did outside. It had enough for a handful of people to sit down and enjoy the hot brew. Grabbing his Hazelnut flavored X-Large coffee from the young blue haired girl he made his way out the french doors he entered. Harry looked up from his glorious sip and seen Sam standing across the street.

"Sam what are you doing there? Where's Dean?" Harry seen Sam tilt his head to the side and open his mouth in a silent scream. Blood seeped out of his mouth and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Harry ran across the street as Sam's body began to shake and convulse. But just as he reached the other side Sam righted himself and ran up the street, off toward the large lonely mansion that was once a church of the town.

Great, guess I have to head that way. Why is it me that always seems to be sent to save others? I swear, it's not my "Saving people thing" but rather someone out there sends me there. Harry ran as fast as he could up the the street and hill of 10 blocks.

The front gates to the mansion had been opened slightly, enough for him to fit his small frame through. It was sunset, and the foreboding feeling in his chest constricted his heart. The mansion it self was a lot more better then the grounds surrounding it. Harry pushed the front doors open and cringed as the floors and door creaked loudly into the silence.

Surely Sam and Dean were here already? Sam had run off in this direction. He was sure that wasn't the real Sam but something was warning him to be here. He may have lost the control of his magic with the snap of his original wand but he wasn't useless. When things needed to be done, his magic would never let him down.

A rumble came from the basement below him, then a crash of glass breaking followed. Entering what looked like a sitting room to his left he noted the dead end and the lack of light. The dinning room across the hall led to a kitchen also covered in a blanket of darkness. The one thing that stood out from the dark was the flickering light coming from the far end of the room. The door was hard to open but with a little strength popped open.

Dean was standing in front of a tall mirror staring at his reflection. Sam was behind him going through a stack of pictures. What was a mirror doing down here any way? It seemed to stick out like a sore thumb against the rest of the books, paintings and writing materials. With a shake to his head Dean headed over to the shelf and leafed through the paintings stacked neatly beside it.

The floors and walls began to shake and the books rattled on their shelves. Dean shone his light around the room and ducked in cover as the lamp sitting on a writing desk flew at him and shattered against the brick wall. Sam gave a shout and flew across the room and slammed into the mirror that he had just been at.

"Sam, you OK?" Dean asked as loud as he could. Just as Dean was going to run to him to asses the injuries Sam went flying to the far wall past Dean. "Sam!" Harry yelled as he saw him fly into the brick wall and land with a crash on the desk. The wood being old and slightly damp crumbled under his weight. "What the hell are you doing here?" Dean growled. "Later Dean, Sam needs our help." Harry looked around, "What do we need to do?" "Find a picture of Roger Conant and salt and burn it."

Dean looked up in time to see a box of quills tip over and float in the air above where Sam lay out cold. Dean ducked as Harry grabbed a book and blocked the quills. Pulling out his lighter he lit the book and quills on fire and tossed it aside. Dean looked to Harry and swore as his feet slid up the wall behind him. As his back reached the ceiling Harry looked around for the portrait they were searching for.