The wind whipped across the front lawn, sending the piles of perfectly raked leaves tumbling across the grass like miniature tornados. Harry paused by the window and looked out at his once pristine lawn. He sighed, making a mental note of yet another job he would have to do, all the while wondering how he had gone from saviour of the wizading world to suburban washout. In the years of peace that had followed his defeat of Voldemort he had felt himself slipping into a pattern, unable to settle into the life of a civilian and leave his life as a soldier behind. Sometimes he found himself wishing for another dark lord to fight to break the monotony, but only sometimes. Harry turned his back on the window, shaking his head at his own foolishness and resolving to find a rake as soon as possible.

Out of the window the leaves stirred again. This time it seemed less like the random patterns of the wind and almost as if something invisible was stalking through them, slowly making its way towards the house. Harry was in his garage looking for his gardening tools when he heard the first growl. He turned slowly, scanning the room for the source of the noise. There was nothing there, but that didn't stop him from pulling his wand out of his back pocket and brandishing it in front of him.

"Homenum revelio," he muttered under his breath. Nothing happened, but he still couldn't get rid of the suspicion that there was someone in the room with him. Unwillingly, he turned back to the pile of tools and picked up the rake. Too late, he heard another low growl, before something large collided with his legs, smashing him into the wall. His wand flew out of his hand, skittering across the floor and out of his reach. It managed to pin him to the floor, and despite Harry's struggles he could not rid himself of the heavy weight. He could feel the things breath on his face, the hot scent of decayed meat enough to make him retch. He tried to move his arm to punch his invisible assailant, but sharp fangs gripped his shoulder. He felt them pierce through his clothing and into his flesh and gave a grunt of pain as they ripped.

"That's enough, good doggie," called a voice from somewhere across the room. Harry's first thought when he heard the coo was that Bellatrix Lestrange had somehow returned from the dead. But as the thing on his chest relaxed its grip and he managed to raise his head from the floor, he saw that it was another dark haired woman who was smirking at him from across the room.

"Who the hell are you?" He gasped, wincing as he tried to raise himself into a sitting position. "Get out of my house!" The woman laughed, striding forwards to crouch next to Harry.

"Well aren't you adorable," she raised a hand to ruffle his hair but he jerked his head back. "Trying to boss me around when you have a hellhound on your chest. My name's Meg, little Harry, and I'm afraid I can't leave quite yet. "

"Oh yeah," growled Harry, deciding to ignore her use of the word hellhound, "and why's that?" Meg leant forwards until she was inches away from Harry's face. Her eyes flicked to pure black and back again and Harry barely managed to restrain a startled yelp.

"We have a mutual friend who is very interested in meeting you, Harry Potter. In fact, you were an essential part of our bargain." She grinned sardonically and the hellhound on his chest gave a threatening snarl. Harry cast his eyes around the room, trying to locate his wand as he asked his next question.

"I'm almost afraid to ask," he said brazenly, "but what deal are you talking about?" Meg clucked at him, drawing his gaze back to her face.

"Oh, you are a funny one," she sighed, "it's almost a shame we can't spend more time together, the fun we could have had..." As she spoke she trailed one finger almost tenderly up his face, her nail leaving a shallow cut behind. "Sadly, we have more need of the ape than we do you." As her nail bit more deeply into his flesh, Harry tried to call up some of his wandless magic. Meg gave a little gasp and suddenly the cheerful expression on her face was gone, her eyes back to soulless black. "Careful Harry Potter," she hissed. "You don't want to anger me." Harry opened his mouth to retort, but before he could Meg raised her hand and brought it down hard on the top of his head. His vision blurred. The last thing he saw was Meg's grinning face, then the darkness rose and he succumbed to unconsciousness.

A.N. I hope you enjoyed that.

To warn you all now, this fic is probably going to end up being quite long. In the next chapter we'll find out what's happened to poor old Harry and meet the Winchesters! If anyone has an opinion on what pairing they'd like then please let me know. I probably want to include some Destiel, and I'm toying with Sam/Harry, but nothing's definite.

Also, I would be very grateful if someone could help me timeline. This is set during season 5 of spn, but I'm not sure what year that was, so I'm not sure how old everyone is. If anyone knows, let me know!

Night.