The Walking Wizards Chapter 1
Draco Malfoy climbed into the passenger seat of the Jeep. Blaise was asleep behind the wheel. Draco would let his friend rest for a few more minutes. They didn't need to return to camp for another hour or so, and they had barely slept for the past two days.
Reclining in his seat, Draco turned to face the Jeep on his right. Crabbe was snoring loudly in the driver seat; Theo stood on the passenger seat, leaning against the roof bar, on guard; Adrian Pucey and Marcus Flint appeared to bicker in the Jeep on the left. Draco allowed himself to close his eyes, his mind riddled with thoughts of the world. The world that had ended. The barren world, plagued with the dead.
It had been six years since the world had ended, muggle and wizarding alike. Nobody knew for certain how it came about, but it happened all the same. It started in America apparently, but spread quicker than Fiendfyre. It consumed the entire world in months. Nothing was left untouched.
Draco had been at Hogwarts when the world ended, much like the rest of the students. They had thought they were safe behind the wards of Hogwarts, and with magic at their fingertips. But no one had anticipated the undead's resistance magic. They waltzed through wards as though they weren't there at all—they were attracted to the vibrations of magic in the air. The wards are what lured them.
Students and Professors of Hogwarts scattered, everyone flooing or apparating home to check on their families. Some returned with their sisters or brothers, sometimes muggle parents. Others returned entirely broken, blood and tears covering them. But most … most never came back.
Over the year at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape-the only remaining Professor-became leaders of sorts. They would ration the food, assign duties to the students and operate the castle. At first they received much resistance from the incessantly infuriating Hermione Granger, backed by her ginger Weaselette. But after assigning her the task of finding out what the fuck happened to the world, they were eventually left alone. So Granger worked in the library and Dumbledore's private collection with Astoria Greengrass. Searching for answers. Searching for anything that could help them.
Draco knew they needed her, as much as it pained him to admit it. The know-it-all had become valuable to the group of survivors, as well as his plans for the future. They needed as much magical blood as possible to rebuild society, even if it was tainted. But impurity didn't matter as much to him anymore. Not when only three pure-blooded females remained in the world, and handful of pure-blooded men. The world was in need of rebuilding and they needed all magical blood they could get to do it.
Many stayed at Hogwarts. It lasted about a year. Eventually the numbers at Hogwarts dwindled and only thirty or so remained. The undead would wander onto the grounds gradually, more and more as the weeks went on. Feeding on their people. It was decided that Hogwarts was no longer safe. Soon after, Draco and the remaining survivors floo'd to the Malfoy Manor. They remained safe there for another year before the grounds were overrun by the undead. Attempting to regain control of the Manor, they realised that magic had very little effect on the undead. The Avada and stunning spells did nothing, not a damn thing. Even cloaking spells had no effect as the undead could still smell them. They learned a lot during that battle, losing a dozen or so in the process.
But during the course of the year at the Manor, Astoria and Granger had learned of an ancient Medallion that was believed to control the dead. The literature on the – perhaps mythical – Medallion was limited and vague. It was apparent that they would need to venture out into the world to locate it. So when the Manor fell to the walking dead, that is what Draco decided. They would have to journey around the land in search of the Medallion, following up on leads whenever they were lucky enough to discover them. Searching for the Medallion, setting up camp whenever they could. But not for long. Never for a long period of time. For if they stayed in one place too long, the dead would come. They always found them.
Draco and his group of survivors had come across several muggles over the years. Eventually they started to make their presence known to them, interrogating them for a while. If they deemed the muggles to be trustworthy enough, they would bring them back to the camp, increasing their numbers. They needed numbers. They needed the numbers for the future. For when they found the Medallion and they had to begin repopulation. But the group did not know of those plans. Not yet. Only the Vipers were aware of these plans, knowing that a muggle and magical person would be paired off. Ensuring the offspring would be magical, repopulating the earth with powerful beings. Wizards and witches ready to reclaim the world. Lead by Draco Malfoy.
Draco sighed audibly as he opened his steely grey eyes. His eyes were always emotionless, his expression stony. Always. He had always been a cold boy, but now, after the world had fallen and his parents were gone, he was a cold man. Entirely. Detached. He felt no fear anymore. Not of the undead, not of anything. He only felt determination. He was determined to rebuild the world. The world that would thrive under his control. The New World. It would be his.
Draco ran his fingers through his hair as he glanced around at his fellow 'Vipers'. That's what the group of survivors called them. The Vipers.
The Vipers were returning to camp from a mission. Following up on a lead for that fucking Medallion. Unsuccessful, of course. It always was. But perhaps not entirely unsuccessful. For they were able to find an ancient book, comprised entirely of ancient ruins. The mudblood would be able to decipher it. Perhaps it would enlighten them to the location of the Medallion. Hopefully.
Draco slammed his hand on the car horn, waking Crabbe and Blaise with a jolt. Theo laughed as Crabbe smacked his head on the steering wheel as he jolted awake.
"Should wear your seatbelt, mate." Theo laughed, seating himself in the passenger seat.
Grumbling, Crabbe glared at Theo, rubbing his head soothingly.
"Let's move," Draco yelled, supressing a yawn as the three Jeeps roared to life.
He readjusted the strap of the holster on his thigh, aligning the knives that it held. He fidgeted with the gun in the holster, knowing he was low on ammo. But they all were. Hence the premature return to camp. The destination the research team sent them to had been overrun by the walkers. The undead. It had made a dent in their ammunition supply, but they were successful nonetheless. All six of the Vipers walking away without so much as a scratch. Years of training did that to you though. And that's what they had done following their departure from the Manor.
They had trained and practiced, hunting walkers frequently. Ensuring they were at their strongest, always. They could not afford to make any mistakes. Lest they share the same fate as Severus, a man short of a limb. Or worse, they could die. Neither of which they wanted. So they trained constantly, maintaining excellent stamina, flexibility, skill and strength. Always.
The camp was vibrant, muggles and magical folk bustling around tending to their chores and duties. The group of survivors currently sat at around fifty people or so, each with their own assignment and responsibility. Most of the muggle women were assigned to home-making duties, mainly laundry, cleaning and cooking. But it was their preference. Staying within the camp boundaries offered them a sense of security and protection. It was one of the only options that allowed them to stay within the camp. The others were ones of skill or exclusive; medical, research and inventory. The medical team consisted of one healer and one nurse. The nurse was a muggle man, and the healer a witch. One of them always had to remain on base ensuring constant accessibility to treatment. Inventory was essentially all of the weaponry and food supplies that was guarded at all times. It was guarded by a wizard or witch only, ensuring maximum protection, and the team consisted of three to four people. The research team was made up of three people; Hermione Granger, Astoria Greengrass and Severus Snape.
Severus Snape once was a 'Viper' but after a bite to the arm from one of the undead, he was no longer able to continue in that field. Fortunately the fellow Vipers amputated his arm immediately, preventing the infection from contaminating him, allowing him to live. The group leader, Draco Malfoy, reassigned the now disabled Severus to the research department, knowing that he would contribute greatly.
Muggle men and women joined magical folk on the 'hunts'. The hunts were the least dangerous of the three duties that expanded outside of the camp. Hunts were essentially pursuits and the tracking of animals in the woodlands. They would search for animals that could be used, or eaten. Horses, boars, cattle, chickens. Whatever they could find really. And thanks to the 'Hunters' – a team of seven –, the camp was stocked with a few cows and chickens, providing fresh milk and eggs to the group daily.
The largest faction was the 'Runners', a group of ten or so people. The Runners' main duty was find supplies. Fuel, cars, ammunition, weaponry, water, food. Anything that was considered to be a necessity. They had priorities, but aimed to acquire and scavenge as much as they could on one run. Therefore the team would be gone for days at a time, sometimes a week. But when they returned, the camp would welcome them back warmly. For they always returned with supplies. Never empty handed.
The Vipers … now they faced the most danger. And it was certainly the most exclusive of the teams, comprised of the founders and leaders of the group. Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Adrian Pucey, Marcus Flint and Vincent Crabbe. As much as several of the Runners had tried, applications to join the elite team were constantly denied. Much to Ginny Weasley's annoyance. She was undoubtedly the top Runner, surviving countless missions and saving her team from catastrophic situations time and time again. But always, her application was rejected. It infuriated her, but Draco would refuse her requests for meetings all the same. He was a busy man and chose to spend his very limited spare time entertaining the grateful women on camp.
Many muggle women and witches threw themselves at the Vipers, knowing that without them, they would probably be dead. Knowing that these men risked their lives every day in pursuit of something that would save them. But that's all they knew. It was something that could save them. Only the research team and the Vipers were aware of the Medallion. Countless women on camp, however, showed their gratitude in licentious ways. Draco Malfoy being the main receptor, of course, due his high rank as the leader. He did not complain. It was a welcome reprieve from the missions he and the rest of the Vipers went on every week. A welcome reprieve from the constant research of the Medallion. Constant strategizing. He allowed himself some peace as the women rode him, or blew him. Whichever he was in the mood for. But he never participated. He watched as they did everything, kicking them out almost as soon as he'd cum. Forgetting their names, but that didn't matter to him. Their names didn't matter. All that mattered was the mission. Finding the Medallion. Rebuilding society. Leading the New World. It's all that mattered.
"Granger," Blaise walked into the large tent that housed books, stationary, a desk, and the bushy haired mudblood.
"What?" asked Hermione.
"Found this," Blaise spoke, tossing the large ancient book at her, his eyes scanning the sleeping Astoria under the desk. It seemed he wasn't the only one that tried to catch some sleep at work.
Hermione sighed, walking over to the desk that Astoria slept under. "No Medallion then?" Hermione didn't sound disappointed, probably because none of them expected to find the Medallion on such a weak lead.
"Obviously not," Draco's darkened eyes were on the ancient book that Hermione slammed onto the desk.
"Well, I have another lead," Hermione said, waving her hand toward the pile of paper on the floor.
Draco frowned, leaning down to snatch the crumpled paper on the top of the pile.
"It's not far from here," Blaise said.
Draco grunted in response before folding the paper, placing it in the pocket of his tight, black cargo pants. He turned and looked outside, observing the pink sky.
"It's almost nightfall," Draco spoke. "We will go in the morning."
"Sunrise?" Blaise asked, grateful to have the whole night to sleep. And perhaps entertain a woman or two.
"Yes," Draco said.
Hermione glared at the back of their heads as the two Vipers departed the tent without so much as a thanks. They treated her like an accessory to the tent, only speaking to her when Astoria and Snape were unable to. She rolled her eyes and dug into her work.
Octavia groaned as she shifted her body. Slumber slipped away from her.
The ground was stony and harsh against her skin, her bones aching from sleeping on it for a few hours. That's all the sleep she would get, she knew. No more than four hours. She was lucky if she slept at all. The fear would prevent her usually. But she managed this time, climbing up to the top of a watch tower, surrounded by rubble. The tower remained standing, however, providing Octavia with a little security during the cold dark night. The nights. They were the worst in Octavia's books. But that was hardly surprising.
Nights in a world like this would frighten anyone. Especially if they were alone, like her. Alone in a world of the undead, nobody to speak to. Nobody to watch over her. Nobody to look at. Only dead. All around her. The dead. Either the walkers, or silence. Only the sounds of her breaths, the noise of her brown combat boots hitting the ground as she travelled the land. Searching for food and shelter. Alone. Always alone.
She wasn't sure anybody else was alive anymore. A year she walked around Scotland, and had saw no one. Not a damn living soul.
Groaning, Octavia sat up and stretched, her arms high in the air, her back arching. Walking over to the window, she scowled as she looked out. It was dawn, which was good for her; it allowed her to see what was coming. A herd. About a hundred, maybe two. She had to keep moving. They were a few miles away, she noticed. Octavia estimated they were about an hour or two behind her. She had time. She had to move.
Grabbing her white maxi dress, Octavia she shimmied into it. The dress allowed her flexibility, not making a sound as she ran. There was no rubbing of material, like jeans, as she ran. She had cut two thigh-high splits up the dress, at the front of her legs. It ensured that she could run without making much noise. Her ability to remain quiet was the only reason she had survived this long. Six years.
The past year she spent alone. Octavia hadn't seen a single person in over twelve months. Not one. She was entirely alone for a whole year. She did her best to keep track of time, tallying days in a notebook she had in her leather backpack. Her favourite backpack-Prada. She stole it from a store. She wanted it so badly when she was at school, jealous of the other girls that sported it. But it didn't matter anymore. Not now that the world was gone. Yet she stole it all the same. It was the only sliver of fun in a desolate world.
Octavia sighed as she grabbed her small backpack, swinging it over her shoulder. Walking toward the exit, she willed the tears to stay away. The herd was an hour or two behind her, but she knew if she didn't find a place to hide soon they would catch up to her. She couldn't stay in the watch tower, as the front door was gone. Several would wander up the staircase and she wouldn't have the strength to fight them. She hadn't eaten in days, and she was so thirsty. Down to her last few drops of water. But she had to ration it. In case she had to climb a tree and wait for the herd to pass. Sometimes she would be stuck up there longer than anticipated. Days. She needed to keep her water in case that happened again.
Octavia exited the watch tower, her steps slow and tired. She knew she should walk much faster but she just didn't have the energy. No food, practically no water. So she walked along the gravelly road in the opposite direction of the walkers. Slowly. Much too slowly. Her lethargy evident in her heavy steps. Almost stumbling at times. But she had to keep going. Or they would catch her.
She couldn't fight them. There were too many. But even at that, she had no ammo left. Only one knife. She knew she couldn't use it to kill herself if they caught up to her. She didn't have the strength in her. She was weak. Mentally, emotionally and physically. So if they caught up to her, she would become one of them. After she had been torn apart. Eaten alive. She would become one of the walkers.
A part of the plague on this earth.