Watching the pretty, determined Lieutenant run off, Andy Brooks couldn't help but try, one more time, to deter her.

"You can't kill him, Abby," he shouted after her; "He is Death!"

"Actually, that would be me."

Cuffed to the police cruiser as he was, Brooks could only turn so much to look at the man who'd spoken. Seeing this, the man stepped closer and revealed more of himself to Brooks than he would have if he'd stayed where he was.

A lean, black haired man of average height with simple jeans and a pullover stood unremarkably before the cuffed cop. Or at least, he would have been unremarkable if it weren't for the too bright eyes, glowing an acidic green, the sardonic smirk and the way the man held himself. As a cop and a practising coven member, Andy could both feel and see something off about the man. But he didn't know and couldn't tell what it was that caused him to react in such a way and that bothered him more than anything else. Then the man kept talking and Andy began to understand what he was saying with mounting fear.

"Well, if you want to get technical about it, I'm actually the avatar for the personification of Death, but in this situation it matters very little," the man looked down at the shackled, fearful cop and his smile sharpened. "This is what I like about gifted Wiccan witches. You can feel the truth of my words, most of the time. It makes our conversations so simple when we know we're not lying to each other."

Andy stayed silent, unknowing of what to say to the both unremarkable and remarkable entity before him. The sharp smile didn't waiver but by the trick of the light, it may have softened a little; "I would like to help you Officer Andy Brooks, but you willingly made a deal knowing the consequences. Unfortunately, you are out of my realm of mercy unless you die in an unrelated freak accident and quite frankly, I don't see that happening before he gets to you."

There was no question of who he was.

Seemingly for no reason, the man's too bright eyes narrowed and his head whipped around to the sound of bullets being fired before looking up at the dawning sky. He scowled as he looked down at a battered watch on his wrist to check the time.

"Dammit," he muttered, "I wanted to get this all done tonight."

Suddenly, his still scowling face was directly in front of Andy's and where the man's fingers gripped his jaw, sent icicles through Andy's veins. The Wiccan cop felt a new thrill of fear fly through him as his mind caught up with the fact that he didn't even see the other man move.

"Listen closely Wiccan Officer Andy Brooks because I want you to give a message to your demonic friend when he comes to see you," his expression turned maliciously cruel; "And he will come for you."

Andy nodded hurriedly, unsure of what he presently feared more, this man or his future fate. The man's grip tightened.

"Tell him that the impersonation of death will not be forgiven and if it's war he wants," his eyes positively glittered with promise as he finished with an inhuman growl; "its war he'll get!"

Then the man was out of his face, standing and walking half way across the street before Andy could even process that they were no longer sharing the same air. He panicked.

"Wait," he called quietly, afraid of drawing attention to the man, to himself, to their entire conversation; "Who are you?!"

"I am the Master of Death" a luminous green eye looked back at him over a shoulder; "and my name Officer Brooks, is Harry Potter."

A wide smirk could be seen under the green glowing eye as Andy widened his own brown orbs in recognition. The newly named Harry Potter sauntered out of sight, leaving his parting words ringing in Andy's ears.

"Oh good, you've heard of me. Perhaps you can impress upon the demon how difficult it is to get rid of me."