A/N

Hello guys! Honestly, this is my first A/N in several years so I don't know exactly what to say here. First and foremost I would like to thank you for reading! This is my first Harry Potter and Walking Dead crossover and I am really looking forward to the possibilities for this story.

I actually got inspired to write this by another HP/WD crossover called Bad Blood written by uoduck. His member id is 2943093 so take a look at it!

I am going to have a poll on my profile page to see if people thing this is good enough to continue. I haven't written a story in a great while and I could be too rusty. Better to let the people decide!

So, as always, please Read and Review. Constructive criticism help the authors get better. Praise just makes us feel warm and fuzzy inside. :P

Special shout out:

GaleSynch

Uoduck

Thanks for the support guys! And without further interruption, here is the story!

'Get up Freak!' his aunt yelled.

Harry woke with a start. Immediately, he sat up only to grab his chest and abdomen, scrunching his eyes shut in pain.

"Shite!" he rasped through disused vocal cords. He hunched over slightly to relieve the pain in his abdomen, only to cause shocks of pain to shoot through his arms. The years he spent with hunger pains in his cupboard had woven the reflex into his body. That, and the times when Dudley liked to kick him when he was down.

After a few seconds that felt like hours, the green eyed savior of the Wizarding world opened his eyes slightly as the pain began to subside.

'Why isn't Aunt Petunia banging on my door?' He thought with bewilderment. Disorientated, he opened his eyes further to try and peer through the darkness to look at the less than scratchy something covering his legs. While he couldn't make out anything in his cupboard, he knew one thing for sure.

'These aren't my sheets' he thought in confusion. It was only an instant later that he remembered that he hadn't lived in his cupboard for years. Becoming more alert, he snapped his head around, vainly trying to scan the pitch black room. With no idea where he was and no identifiable markers in the darkness, anxiety started to set in. He tried to get up; to simply throw his legs over the edge of what he assumed was a bed, only to find he couldn't. His lethargic limbs refused to obey his brain's commands. Panic began to seep into his mind at that point, his adrenalin responding and pouring through his system.

What he didn't know, what he couldn't know, was that he had been immobile for the past eight months. His magic, drained from keeping his body alive and his body, atrophied from disuse and starving couldn't also stand the sudden surge of his adrenalin. His stomach rumbled rebelliously, either complaining about the hunger or the nausea the pain was causing him, or maybe both. Hungry, confused, in pain, and alarmingly tired, Harry Potter's body did the only thing it could think of.

An instant later, the former Chosen One blacked out once more.

Sometime later, Harry opened his eyes once more before shutting them just as quick, blocking out the overpowering sun. He drew an arm over his eyes reflexively before hissing in pain and sitting up. Now that there was light, Harry was able to discern where he was. After all, he spent a great deal in places like this over his life.

"Bloody infirmaries" he croaked out painfully. Taking a quick look around, Harry saw that there was relatively little in the room. A chair, a desk, cabinets, some medical machines…but they were all off…and muggle. Confused again, Harry scratched absently at his arm trying to figure out what was going on. A sharp pain where he was scratching brought his gaze down to investigate. Spying several needles with tubes in his arm he narrowed his eyes, tracking the tubes to yet another set of machines right next to his bed.

'What is going on? Did someone forget to pay the ruddy bills?' he thought, absently removing the needles. He let them clatter on the floor before investigating the area around him.

'Bloody hospitals, always hide the blasted thing. If it was for emergencies why did they hide…Ah ha!' he though in triumph, pulling the call button from beneath his pillows. He held the red colored button aloft before pressing it firmly.

…..

…..

Harry depressed the button with a frown on his face. Pushing and holding it again he looked around for any indicator that it was working. Finding none he started to get irritated, pushing it repeatedly with growing frustration.

'Even Hogwarts had an alarm for the beds…what is wrong with this place' he thought in disgust before throwing the useless clicker away from him. Taking one last look around, he tried to swing his legs over the hospital bed's edge. Much to his pleasure, he found he was able to move his body more freely than the night before. Being unable to move like that, the few times it had happened after the war, had always brought back memories of the grave yard. He was immensely pleased when he attempted, and was successful, in standing up.

Harry's first destination, now that he was mobile again, was the restroom. He noticed the door labeled 'Bathroom' immediately when he had surveyed the room but that had honestly led to more questions. Walking delicately over and opening the door, he proceeded to relieve himself while thinking on the ramifications of the door sign.

'I'm in a Yank hospital? Why would I be here?' He thought to himself, closing his gown back again. Reaching over, he pushed the plunger on the industrial toilet only to have nothing happen. Frowning again, he jiggled the handle several times before giving up.

'No water, no power….this is just ridiculous. The things they do over here' he thought with distain. Honestly, who doesn't pay the bills for a hospital's water and power?

Returning to the center of the room, Harry looked around for his next target: His wand. Deciding that the most likely place his wand was stored was the cabinets; he stumbled over before proceeding to open drawers. After opening half the drawers he finally found a bag labeled 'Patient Possessions'. Grinning, he pulled the bag out and headed over to the desk in the corner, his legs feeling more normal with each new step.

Deciding to be unceremonious, he opened the bag and upended its contents all over the desk only to frown slightly. His wand was there, his glasses, as was his Trainee Auror badge and his shrunken trunk necklace and his shoes. His wand holster was also present but so were his robes and muggle street clothes…which were wrinkled.

The green eyed teen was sure he had cast the wrinkleproofing charm on his clothes correctly. Hermione had actually been surprised at how well he had swished. It was slightly irksome, which he pointed out to her, the way she had said that. As if he didn't swish and flick Voldemort to the grave! He could swish and flick with the best of them! A quick smack over the head later, courtesy of Hermione, and they had both been laughing.

Grinning to himself again at the memory, he picked up his wand and quickly transfigured a cup before casting Aguamenti, filling it with fresh, cool water. Guzzling the first cup, he quickly refilled it before drinking it all down a second time, enjoying the feeling of the water on his parched throat and cracked lips. He felt content for all of thirty seconds before dashing as quickly as he could back into the restroom and heaving.

After heaving several times, expelling nearly all the water he just drank, he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth as he stood up unsteadily. It was then he saw the mirror and, more importantly, the face staring back at him. His eyes opened shock, hardly recognizing his own face. The gaunt, exhausted face eyeing him from the glass pane brought back memories of the war with Voldemort. His friends had looked the same; pale, exhausted, half starved. His body gave an involuntary shudder.

'How...how long was I….was I in a coma or something?' he thought fearfully as he touched and pulled slightly on his face. It was the only logical reason he could immediately think of that could cause his current state. That, or being chummy with the Dementors of Azkaban. Taking another good look, Harry couldn't stop the amused snort from escaping. Even after however long he was...unconscious, he still hadn't been able to grow more than stubble on his chin. Despite everything that was going on, he still frowned at the thought of his facial hair. There was a point where he had considered using a potion, but decided against it at the time. Having the ability to grow facial hair like his friends really was less important than finding Voldemort's soul fragments.

Walking back into the main room, Harry paused to think about his next course of action. Something was very wrong with the Hospital he was in, what with no water or power. Add to that the nagging feeling of wrongness he felt pretty much made up his mind. Proceeding to change into his muggle street clothes, he decided that he really had to get out of the muggle world and back to his friends.

Thinking about his friends caused him to pause tying the laces of his shoe. He had been with Hermione at the International Magical Relations office of the American Wizarding Ministry. It really hadn't been anything other than a training session for himself. How Hermione had convinced Kingsley to let her go he would never know. She had turned down the Auror program, instead focusing on magical theory, runes, and magical research.

Everything after that first meeting with the State Secretary of Magic was fuzzy and unrecognizable. He thought he might remember voices or…something after that, but he couldn't be sure. Tying up his last lace and attaching his wand holster to his forearm underneath his long sleeve, Harry Potter was ready to go and find his friend. Harry hesitated when he reached for his wand. If he was in a muggle hospital, maybe he shouldn't be walking around wand out. The statue and all that. He had almost decided to put his trusty Holly wand in the holster when he heard a roar of 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE!' in the back of his head. Smiling a small, sad smile, Harry tucked his trunk necklace under his shirt and picked up his wand, palming it.

Finally, dressed, equipped and feeling slightly stronger, he strode to the door and opened it, intent on finding Hermione and getting to the bottom of what happened to him.

Harry stepped into the hallway and glanced around, instantly going on edge, moving his wand in front of him. Medical equipment, carts, beds, virtually everything a hospital could have, was strewn randomly around the hallway blocking much of the walkway. Every twenty feet or so there would be another door leading to another patient's room. Some of the rooms were open while others had shut doors. Harry's nose involuntarily scrunched up at the scent of stale bodily fluids in the air. Oh, and don't forget, there were holes in the ruddy walls! The ceiling had even come down in some places, hanging pieces of discolored plaster dangled all up and down the hallway. All in all, it looked like a warzone.

Now Harry wasn't nervous however. He had gone down a rather long (and surprisingly fun) slide to enter Slytherin Chamber of Secrets, only to then have to fight a giant Basilisk. He had fought Voldemort toe to toe several times. Hell, he had even died, alone. A cluttered hall, while irritating, was far from the worst thing he had seen. Still, something deep inside told him he should quietly take a look around. Harry had come to trust this instinct; it had served him well over the course of the war, after all.

Wand out and pointing, the raven haired teen started making his way carefully down the hall towards what he assumed was a nurses satiation. He carefully stepped over trashed medical equipment and tipped over linen cart contents along with a variety of other items. Passing a room labeled 421 he quietly peeked inside. Just like the hall, Room 421 was completely trashed, items of all sorts damaged or strewn about the room in a chaotic mess. Even the cloth hangings from the ceiling were laying all about the ground.

Deciding to continue on, Harry moved past the shut door leading to Room 420 before stopping outside Room 419. Looking inside the open room, Harry nearly gagged. There, on the floor, was the body of what he could only assume was a patient. It was decayed so much that he couldn't really be sure. The reflex to step back at the sight caused Harry to bump into a gurney he had previously maneuvered around with such force that it crashed into a nearby wheelchair, tipping it over.

Harry cringed slightly at the magnitude of the sound he had made before focusing on his surroundings again. After what seemed to be forever, the sound of the falling wheelchair had stopped reverberating along the silent halls. Harry released the breath he didn't realize he was holding when nothing seemed to have happened and no one came. That, in all actuality, was worrying by itself.

'Either no one in this hospital cares about..well anything really, or no one is here…' he concluded after a brief examinations of the possibilities. Ready to restart his trek, Harry moved past Room 219 and came upon Room 218. The amount of debris in the hall intensified around Room 217, almost creating a barricade. The amount of stuff in the way forced Harry to move closer to the walls just so he could pass. Three doors away from the (presumably) empty nurse's station, Harry had to press himself up against the closed door to Room 215 in order to get around yet another gurney.

Right as he cleared the door, a sound caused Harry to stop and listen. The sound had been faint, and he wasn't sure…there it was again! He looked back at the door with a little trepidation. The sound had come from inside Room 215!

"Hello" Harry whispered at the door. "Is anyone in there?"

When no answer came, Harry thought he might have imagined the sound. He stayed still and strained his ears, listening for any form of response from within. When he heard the soft sound of fabric against fabric again he decided to investigate.

"I'm coming in. Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you" he whispered before cringing mentally. 'That didn't sound creepy at all Harry….' he thought to himself. Placing his hand on the doorknob, he gently pushed the handle down and slowly opened the door.

There was little light in the room, the window facing away from the sun at this time of day. From the half of the room he could see, the room was similar to the one he was staying in, save for the entire floor being littered with equipment. Looking around, Harry couldn't find the source of the sound yet. Opening the door fully, he stepped into the threshold to get a better look at the other half of the room. His eyes immediately fell upon a tall man standing in the corner of the room. His back was to Harry and he was facing the corner like a child in timeout. All he could see was the man's back and that half his head was covered in bandages.

Harry gingerly stepped into the room.

"Sir are you alright?" Harry whispered again. The same feeling he had when he first stepped into the hallway had intensified the moment he had laid eyes on the man. When the man didn't respond for the second time, Harry raised his voice slightly. After all, maybe the man couldn't hear very well right?

"Excuse me, Sir?" He asked with a neutral tone. When the man stiffened straight up he knew that, this time, the man had definitely heard him.

"Sir, can you tell me….." he began, only to stop as his mouth hung open in horror. Half way through his question, the man had turned around to face Harry. Face was a relative term in this situation however, as half of the man's face was gone. Not covered up by the bandages, gone as in missing, like he had been attacked by a wild animal or something. It was grotesque.

Before the young wizard could say another word, the man charged at him, half mouth opening and closing, all the while moaning like some animal. Despite his training and experience thus far, Harry was so startled he jumped backwards, tangling himself in the wires of several pieces of equipment. The brief second he looked down to see what entangled his foot was enough for the mutilated man to close the distance and attempt to bite the last Potter. Crashing into him, the momentum and weight of the man, coupled with Harry's immobile foot, caused the wizard to tumble backwards out of the room, taking the snapping and moaning man with him.

Before the two could hit the ground, Harry's close combat Auror training kicked in. Twisting his body as far as it would go and pushing, he was able shove the man off to the side, causing the crazy to crash into the gurney barricade and Harry to fall painfully to the ground on his side.

"What the hell is your problem?!" He yelled, his temper quickly flaring. Harry quickly pushed himself up on one arm while aiming his wand at his attacker. The man tried to stand back up but was having a difficult time doing so, falling back down several times. As Harry's breath become ragged from the adrenalin, he assessed the threat before him and discovered the reason for the man's difficulty. Somehow, when Harry shoved him, the man had broken his leg. In fact, the leg was bent completely backward at an odd and painful looking angle. Harry immediately felt some guilt wash over him. He hadn't meant to cause that much damage.

Before Harry could blurt out the first word to an apology, the man had succeeded in standing back up and was slowly shuffling back towards Harry. The young man immediately disregarded the thought to apologize and quickly went on the defensive.

"Stop sir! I don't want to hurt you but you must STOP!" Harry commanded. The man continued to gnash his teeth together, moaning as he shuffled closer to the wizard, heedless of Harry's commands.

"I said stop! Stop now! Dammit! Depulso!" he spat out harshly. Harry watched the white spell fly off his Holly wand and he waited for it to take effect. What he didn't count on, however, was the spell hitting and going through the man's chest!

'There wasn't that much power behind that spell!' Harry thought frantically. He had just killed a man! The young wizard only had a split second to be revolted by the sight before the gaping hole started spilling out the man's organs. The scant few seconds Harry laid there fretting over being a murder was all the shambling man needed before he was nearly upon Harry again.

Harry still wasn't nervous once he realized that though. Oh no, not now. No, instead, he had skipped right over nervous and went straight to panicked as he watched the man who's heart was laying on the floor continue to advance upon him, teeth gnashing and all. Panicked now, Harry reacted on instinct.

"Diffindo!" he cried, aiming the spell towards the man's midsection by reflex. The yellow severing spell faded out slightly as it reached the man, becoming more transparent but still doing the job. Less than a second later, the upper half of the man's body fell backwards while the bottom half, along with the man's forearms, fell forwards, dumping some of his rotting blood and organs over the Boy-Who-Lived.

Breathing through his mouth to stop the gagging reflex, Harry turned his attention to the wires about his ankle. After a few quick movements, Harry's shaking hands were able to extract his ankle from the nest of wires. Finally free, Harry stood up and inspected his soiled clothing. The disgusting combinations of rotting blood and organs smelled putrid. He quickly cast a scourgify on himself. With a frown and another glance at his clothing, Harry saw that his spell hadn't done the job completely. In fact, while he may not be a prodigy in terms of household charms, he hadn't had such a failure with the cleaning charm since his first week using it!

Casting a second, and then a third scourgify, Harry was finally satisfied with the condition of his clothing. A rubbing sound pulled Harry from his thoughts about his cleaning charm. Glancing down, the young wizard froze as the sight before him going from 'panicked' to 'scared' in a single glance.

There, at the feet of his attacker's body, the upper half of the man that had attacked him was…dragging its severed torso in Harry's direction. It was….too horrible for words. Harry retched, throwing up all the acid in his stomach as he watched the bifurcated man slowly pull himself towards Harry on two oozing stumps. When the half-man lifted himself…itself up and over one of his body's severed legs the young wizard lost it.

"REDUCTO!" He cried, pouring more power into the spell than normal. His wand tip glowed as the blue-white spell hit the…whatever the hell it was, shattering the head and every other part into thousands of gory pieces. The greed eyed wizard paid close attention to the fleshy bits that used to be a man…thing….whatever, looking for any kind of movement. After several minutes of wand pointing and staring, Harry was satisfied that the damn thing wasn't getting back up.

Letting out a breath of air, he rested his back against the wall and slid down to sit. Originally, Harry had thought something odd was going now…but now…now he had no freaking idea what happening!

'The only thing that seemed similar to that thing was from one of the books he had swiped from Dudley…but no.…no…it couldn't be.

…could it?'

"That was a zombie" he said out loud. Yep. Just saying it out loud made him sound crazy. Zombies…those things from science fiction? That couldn't be true right? He glanced back at the lower half of the now confirmed dead corpse. 'He was cut in half' he thought.

Sighing, the young man ran his hand through his hair, his mind a whirl of thoughts.

"Bloody hell" he murmured, summing the situation up nicely.