Hello! I'm honestly going to say that this first chapter was rushed and I really didn't know what I was writing until I saw ZOMBIE pop on my screen (Oh and I know the poem is crappy, but I like it so...). So, of course, this is going to be a Walking Dead/Harry Potter crossover fic in which Harry will find himself in the depths of the zombie apocalypse in America. Just a bit of a warning, this story does have SLASH!Pairings, violence and gore, fluffy moments, and ONLY implications of lemon scenes because I can't write lemons for shit. Therefore, if you do not like any of these facets then leave immediately and do not bother flaming. Ignorance is a bliss!

Disclaimer: I hold absolutely no right in claiming J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter nor Robert Kirkman's The Walking Dead from under them. Rather I'm just playing with their characters to satisfy myself entirely.

WARNINGS: (read above excerpt.) Unbeta'd so literally every grammar mistake and spelling error is of my own.

Constructive and well-adjusted criticisms are welcome and effusive praises are of course welcomed as well!

Pairings: Undecided (Rick/Harry, Daryl/Harry? I really can't decide...) and the rest is canon.

HPWD

Prologue: Well, shit.

Borne and ill by fire,

you leave the dead airborne from ire.

True to steel, bitten by iron.

You left all things long from desire.

Honestly, Harry Potter finds himself in particularly eccentric situations. The Philosopher's stone in his first year, the Chamber of Secrets in his second year, stupid Peter Pettigrew during his third, TriWizard Tournament overtook his fourth year and a whole lot of Voldemort throughout EVERY SINGLE YEAR! All up until he defeated the Snake-Wannabe that he finally knew the meaning of peace.

That is until the dead started rising.

It all happened too quickly. Everything started during the morning where he finally came down to have a spot of tea. He managed to skew his fans' attention and driven them away from the Grimmauld place in hopes for a semblance of peace. Then Hermione Granger, his sister in all but blood, came tumbling out of the Floo with a squeak.

"Hello, Hermione…" Harry had said when the brightest witch in this generation finally peeled herself off the floor and cast a quick cleaning-charm. A bright flush, he could see, painting her face in obvious embarrassment. Harry would've snort if not for the inevitable ire from the Hermione Granger who knew more spells than he and Ron combine, so he watched in curiosity as his friend fumbled with her words.

"H-Harry, d-did you see the Daily Prophet?" And why would he? The female reporter told lies that even made the most eloquent pureblood boil over. Lucius Malfoy was a prime example of the very thought. "Telling from your face, you didn't. Honestly, Harry, Skeeter isn't the only reporter working for the Daily Prophet. Anyway! There was a muggle-born doing an interview with Peter Leaker who told him about the happenings in the muggle world; courtesy of Kingsley who actually held muggle-borns in high respect -"

"'Mione, you're rambling. Remember to use one side of your brain, not both." She huffed indignantly and cuffed his ear. Harry snorted and waved for her to continue.

She huffed once more before Harry could see the cogs working in that head of hers. "Zombies, Harry. Zombies!"

"Like Dawn of the Dead type of zombies or Inferi type of zombies?" Harry knew of the lovely movie he had watched with Ron and Hermione one time during their time at Grimmauld Place, or when nobody was busy really. However, he could not find any humor in the situation given the fact Hermione looked almost fit to explode. "I'm guessing Dawn of the Dead…"

Hermione nodded fervently. "Yes, like Dawn of the Dead. The Muggle-born, and I quote, says "It's like seeing an inferi wandering without its master close behind. He didn't even look wizard-made, nor the brown coloring they are usually associated with. I was fit to throw up when it bit one of my neighbor's neck right off, peeling the skin and all! Blood everywhere too. Luckily, my family already went through the Floo before I joined them shortly after…""

Harry, of course, being a skeptical little cheek, cocked his head slightly and narrowed his eyes. "And how did he know whether or not it was an inferi? I've seen inferi, and they awfully look like a zombie."

"Because it was present in Muggle England, Harry! Not even with pureblood supremacy running like a cock without its head among the Wizarding World, no pureblood would even set foot out of the wards nor cast a really dark curse." Even though her facts were right, if a bit askew given Voldemort did attack a highly-congested freeway and destroyed a bridge, Harry still couldn't believe it. "And what would they gain from casting a dark curse? Voldemort's been dead for two years, Harry. All of the potential Death Eaters who weren't justly sided with Voldemort like the Malfoys are imprisoned in the highest security cells in Azkaban -"

A pound at the door.

"Who could that be?" Harry glanced at his best friend before eyeing the door in suspicion. His hands hovering over his wand holster if a battle ensued.

Then they heard a tiny groan, and a hiss came soon after.

"Harry!"

He wasn't a Gryffindor without his brash, often stupid and brave courage. So, he decided to waltz to the door and look through the peeping hole. The sight greeted him with a trance-like fear. He felt his body go rigid and cold like all the warmth was sucked out of him similar to the feeling of a Dementor trying to kiss you with its hole-like lips.

It was a little girl who seemed to be in her late childhood. Her coarse hair dripped down almost to her developing breast, holes burrowed on her pale skin, and foggy eyes seemed almost like it can see behind the door. Then Harry watched the girl raise her scarred arms to slam against the door and another groan pushing itself out of her lips.

"W-What is it?"

"A zombie…"

Traveled long and hard,

The roads grew weary.

The dead rise with its hands charred

And all that we know remained dreary.