I originally wanted to make a humorous zombie parody tied in with the Harry Potter series. However, this became more of a horror/drama, losing the comical aspect and focusing much more on making a decent, entertaining story. This is very much a work in progress; I intend to write a decent length piece with plenty of chapters. Enjoy.

I do not own any rights to the Harry Potter series, these rights belong to JK Rowling.

Extended Summary
The muggle world is in turmoil. Following a failed government experiment, the bulk of the population have been infected with a deadly virus, turning them into gruesome, flesh-eating monsters. Zombies. Survivors who remain are fighting a losing battle to survive until the infection passes, or until a cure is found. The magical world has been much less affected by the outbreak, largely due to the vast league of spells that can protect and mask them from the infection. That is not to say that it hasn't posed a huge problem. Many witches and wizards are falling every day to the undead, and worse still, the zombie created following the death of magical person maintains some of their magical abilities, resulting in spell casting, magical zombies. On top of this, Lord Voldemort is using the undead as a weapon against the magical world; his own army of walking dead. Strengthening them so they're harder to defeat, Voldemort's undead are more dangerous than ever. Can Harry manage to find the remaining Horcruxes and defeat Voldemort with this new threat in place? Will order be restored to the muggle world? Who is the undead Prince, and will he pose as a threat or an aide to Harry?

Chapter 1 is very much a Prologue, set shortly before the events of the main story.

Prologue – Dudley Devoured

The sun was setting over Little Whinging and Harry was taking an evening stroll through the neighbourhood. This had become a regular activity over the summer; as little time he spent at the Dursleys' the better. While he walked, his thoughts wandered to the Burrow, where he was planning to spend the latter part of the summer. That was, if Ron and the others ever decided to collect him. He wondered what was happening with the Order, with the Weasleys, and most importantly - what Ron and Hermione were doing with their summer. The muggle news was never informative on the happenings in the magical world, but Harry always hoped that one day it might give him a small clue as to anything occurring at the time.
The news!
Harry looked at his watch, then stopped abruptly and cursed. He'd miss it again, his walk lasting longer than he'd originally intended, there was no chance he'd get back in time now.
"Never mind," he thought, "I wouldn't have missed anything important."
As he walked on he started to notice some odd behaviour from the residents of the nearby houses. Many of them were shutting their curtains or locking the windows.
"That's strange," thought Harry. It was only just after 6:00pm, and mid-summer, so there was plenty of sunlight left in the day. Being a wonderfully warm evening too, it baffled Harry why anybody would want to close their windows. Harry then noticed somebody burst out of his front door carrying a large suitcase, clothes sticking out of the sides, hurriedly throw it into his car, and speed off up the road and out of sight.
What on Earth was going on?
Continuing towards Privet Drive, it was then that Harry heard some very familiar screaming. He recognised the shrill pitched notes as belonging to Aunt Petunia. Why would she be yelling at the very top of her voice? The Dursleys wanted nothing more than to appear respectable, and normal to the neighbours, so screaming in the street was very out of character. Whatever she was shouting was incomprehensible to Harry, causing nothing more than a mild earache. As he turned the corner into Privet Drive he spotted her darting about the road, frantically looking in all directions and continuing to shriek. Harry wasn't particularly alarmed at seeing his Aunt crying, nor did he care what the reason may be. It was because of this that he didn't hurry his pace, but simply continued to stroll towards the house, and hopefully pass unnoticed. Whatever it was that she was making a fuss about, it probably didn't concern Harry. However, upon spotting him she darted towards him, practically throwing herself at him she cried "We have to find Dudley, you have to bring your.. your.. thing!"
"What are you talking about?" Harry replied. He toyed with the idea of distressing her further, questioning what she meant by his "thing". He refrained, feeling slightly more concerned now; whatever had happened, it would have to be hugely out of the ordinary for her to suggest the use of his wand, let alone his help. Especially given that usually the Dursleys couldn't even bring themselves to mention his wand, or anything else remotely magical for that matter.
"Infection. On the news. My Dudders is out there, we have to find him. We have to find him now!"
"Infection?" he laughed, "What kind of infection?" The idea that some clearly exaggerated news story about a little infection had made his Aunt worry about her little 'Diddykins', amused Harry no end. It was probably a strong case of the common cold, or perhaps a severe cough. Harry's concerns for her were once again nil.
"Monsters!" she shrilled. "The infection turns people into monsters."
Harry laughed harder than he could remember. It wasn't often that he dared laugh at his Aunt or Uncle, but this was hysterical. At that minute, Uncle Vernon came storming out of the house, pointing one of Dudley's old cricket bats directly at Harry's face.
"Stop laughing boy, stop it right now and get in the car." His voice sounded panicked through the anger that he clearly wanted to express. Harry paused for a second, and then continued to laugh. Whatever was said on the news that had caused his aunt and uncle to behave this way, he was thwarted that he'd missed it. The story sounded like something his Uncle would usually laugh off and curse the news for "airing such rubbish".
"How dare you just-, " his aunt began, but was interrupted by a disgruntled Vernon.
"Leave him Petunia, we have to find Dudley."
"Diddy! Yes, quickly, let's go, let's go," she shrieked.
Harry started towards the house, fighting off the urge to laugh some more. But then a nasty thought struck him. What if Voldemort had something to do with the muggles' monster claims? What if he was attacking, or cursing them to cause panic? Maybe his Aunt and Uncle were right to worry about Dudley. Coming to the decision that it was probably best he check on his cousin, checking his wand was tucked safely in his belt, Harry set off in search for Dudley. After all, if it wasn't Voldermort's doing, it would be amusing to watch Aunt Petunia make a fuss over Dudley in front of his friends.

It was late evening by the time Harry found Dudley. The sun was no longer visible on the horizon and the stars had started to make an appearance in the darkening night sky. Harry found him in the usual place, one of Little Whinging's children's parks where he'd regularly hang out with his gang of thugs, terrorizing small children. Tonight was no exception. Harry entered the scene to find Dudley, Malcolm, Gordon, and Piers (Dudley's gang of brutes), towering over a young boy, no older than about eight or nine. The terrified child seemed to have injured his arm, no doubt inflicted by one of the gang, apparent from the distinct glint of blood on his right sleeve. As Harry drew nearer, he could hear Piers pressuring the boy into showing them his arm.
"Come on, jus' show us you little freak, or we'll rough you up so'more," he drawled.
"Leave it off Dudley," interrupted Harry, "Mummy's looking for you. You wouldn't want her to see you bullying children would you? Not her perfect little Diddykins." Dudley flinched at the sound of Harry's voice. Fists clenched, he booted the poor boy in anger, who fell to the ground in pain, and turned to face Harry.
"Go home Potter," he spat, "or we'll sort you out too." Dudley tried to maintain his tough man image in front of his friends, despite being slightly terrified of Harry.
Gordon sniggered and Piers cracked his knuckles, ready to fight. Harry laughed.
"You wouldn't hurt a fly on my head Dud. Picking on eight year olds is about the most you can muster, and even that takes four of you"
Dudley began to retaliate, but something interjected, taking them all by surprise and horror. The boy, who until now had been lying on the floor, too scared to move, launched himself up and attacked Malcolm, biting a large chunk out of his neck. Malcolm cried out in pain and frantically tried to shake the boy off. No longer playing the tough men, Piers and Gordon fled, leaving Dudley trying to heave the small child off Malcolm. Harry just stared in shock at the violence and strength the boy seemed to have gained, wondering whether to intervene or whether Malcolm deserved everything he got. It was then that Harry recalled the news story his Aunt had mentioned about the infection. Perhaps this was Voldemort's work, perhaps he had cursed the boy. But Harry couldn't sense anything magical. He wasn't going to take the chance, however, drawing his wand he yelled at Dudley.
"Dudley move. He's been cursed!"
Dudley growled, "Stop talking shit Potter, help me get him off." He clearly hadn't noticed Harry's wand or he probably would have listened to Harry. Dudley was petrified of Harry's "thing".
"Dudley, move now! He's cursed you idiot, get away!" But it was too late. The boy stopped savaging Malcolm and turned on Dudley, knocking him to the ground.
"Ahh! Get him off!" yelled Dudley in pain.
Harry pointed his wand at the boy, but didn't know what to do. He wasn't allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts, he was still under age. But if this was an attack from Voldemort then he had no choice. It was either hex the boy, or see his cousin wounded, or even killed. Then something happened at the other side of the park that interrupted his line of thought. Two police officers leapt over the fence and charged towards the scene. Harry felt some relief at their presence, and lowering his wand slightly, he made towards them to offer some help. However, as he drew nearer he began to realise that something wasn't quite right. The officers' uniforms were torn and strewn with blood, their faces were wounded and distorted, and their facial expressions enraged. The way they moved wasn't right either. Instead of running towards the boy, they were performing a sort of hurried limp, as if their muscles weren't functioning correctly, staggering every few steps before regaining balance. Harry slowed and raised his wand once more. This surely couldn't be more evidence of the infection? His question was quickly answered when the officers launched themselves, not at the boy, but at Dudley, and began clawing at his clothing. Dudley screamed in fear.
"Harry, please help. What's happening?" he cried.
Harry had made up his mind. He had to save his cousin, and he required the use of magic to do so. There was no way he could overpower all three of them. He pointed his wand at the attackers and began wording a spell, but before he could get any words out, Malcolm charged into him, knocking him to the ground and his wand out of his hand. Panic struck. He scrabbled around for his wand, he had to get it back before Malcolm could attack again. Too late. Malcolm charged again knocking Harry further from his wand and onto his back. He then pounced on Harry, trying to claw his way to Harry's neck. Malcolm no longer looked himself. His skin was pale and blotchy, and his eyes were dark and lifeless. His lips had turned a horrid shade of purple, and it seemed as though he'd lost a good portion of his hair too. Harry tried to kick him off but he was much stronger than he looked. Through Malcolm's snarls Harry could hear Dudley screaming out in pain. He had to save his cousin but couldn't do anything without his wand. With one desperate attempt to free himself, he booted Malcolm in his ribs. Malcolm roared and started throwing punches at Harry's face. Harry managed to block most, but let his guard slip, hearing Dudley yell out again, resulting in Malcolm's right fist connecting with his left temple. Harry was stunned, his vision blurred and he lost all his strength, almost passing out. Malcolm went for his neck. This was it. Harry couldn't fight back, he would be killed. Just as Malcolm went to sink his teeth into Harry's neck there was a loud CRACK and a bright purple flash. Malcolm was thrown across the park, freeing Harry from his submission.
"Harry get up, come on," came a familiar voice.
Harry stumbled to his knees and quickly found his wand. He looked up to see Mr. Weasley, Bill and Lupin standing over him, wands at the ready.
"We have to save my cousin, we have to rescue Dudley," he shouted.
But as he said it he realised that Dudley had stopped crying out. He glanced over at where Dudley lay. What he saw was horrific, making him feel sick inside. Both officers, the boy, and Malcolm, were crouched over Dudley, tearing flesh away with their teeth. Amidst the blood and attackers, Harry could just make out Dudley's face. His eyes were closed, his expression distraught. Harry knew it was too late to save his cousin.
"Come on, we have to leave now." Lupin said soothingly. "I'm sorry Harry, it's too late for him."
"There's a port key around the corner," chimed Mr Weasley. "Let's go."
Harry lingered for a moment, wishing there was something he could do to help his cousin. But he couldn't. He sprinted with the others towards the direction of the key, looking back every few seconds in despair for Dudley. As they drew nearer to the key, he glanced back to see Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia pull up in their car, by the park. He made to turn back and stop them, but Mr Weasley grabbed his arm, stopping him. "No Harry, we have to go, we're running out of time."
"But they're still my family, I have to stop them, they'll be killed." Harry cried.
"Arthur's right Harry," Lupin intervened, "Even if we stop them, we can't take them with us. We'll miss the port key and it will endanger us all."
"But- but-," Harry started, but he knew they were right. He swallowed his emotions and turned back towards the key. It was an old drink carton. Harry looked back, as they placed their hands on it, to see his Uncle swinging Dudley's bat at the attackers, trying to free his son. He longed to turn back and help them, but he knew he couldn't. Fighting back a tear, he closed his eyes waiting for the key to activate. As they were thrown into the air, spiralling towards the key's terminus, all he could hear was his aunt's screams rattling through the night.