BTW, I did fuck all with the canon timeline between the crossover fics. It is two years after the war which meant it would've been the start of 2000. Harry would be 19 concerning he was 17 during the Second Wizarding World. I think I resolved the issue by making his date of birth on July 31, 1989, and the war began on June of 2004 and ended on May of 2006. In Fear the Walking Dead, it is confirmed the outbreak started in 2010. Therefore, two years after the war…
I'm sorry, that didn't make sense to me so I hardly doubt it would help with obsessive fans demanding for a correct timeline. And Kirkman did not even date when Rick woke up so I can only assume it would've been 194 days post-outbreak based on the title of the first episode in The Walking Dead TV show. *lip smack*
WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Ginny-Bashing, mentions of abuse, violence, major time skip, and minor character deaths, rushed chapter, and Unbeta'd (so every grammar mistake is of my own doing!)
Disclaimer: I do not own any of this. Really, I write fanfiction for Christ sake.
Chapter 1: Abandoned
Harry turned ever so slightly on the crimson duvet until he shot up, his eyes darting around the room frantically, his breaths became slightly hitched, and his heart slammed against his chest in slight distress.
He swallowed a deafening scream and slammed his hand against his mouth to keep it shut. His Uncle would be absolutely furious if he disturbed his hibernation. His eyes were close to tears when he felt a hot, searing pain hit his side. Blinking furiously in an attempt to block the fiery pain, he lifted his washed-out, hand-me-down shirt, the courtesy of his cousin Dudley, and revealed a gashed bruise spraying against half of his oblique.
His throat felt constricted when he tried swallowing the sudden pain. Dragging a hand against his eyes to combat his exhaustion, Harry got up carefully from the crimson duvet and headed towards the adjacent bathroom. Hopefully, there was a bottle of bruise cream in the medicine cabinet, if anything he was the only one who received a bruise in his life while Dudley was the sole suspect for those bruisings. A moment later, he flicked the lights open and noticed how it flickered and shut off completely. Sighing, he walked towards the medicine cabinet and pried it open with only a little resistance.
Everything was empty. The cartridges where it held his Aunt's cotton balls, and his Uncle Vernon's shaving cream was gone, the only thing left was a used cotton swab and a bottle of acetone. Any type of medicine ranging from Advil, Tylenol, or even any sort of cream was gone as well.
"Shit," Harry cursed. He shut the cabinet and hobbled away from the bathroom. "This shit hurts," He steadied his ragged breaths in hopes of balming the worrying bruise on his oblique.
Taking a look around him now, he now wondered why he was in this atrociously decorated, well-kept house he desperately wanted to avoid ever since the war ended. This accursed, hateful house only brought the worse memories Harry fell victim to ever since he was dropped off here. He didn't even know if the blood ward was still fueled around the place considering he felt like his Aunt hadn't been around in quite a while.
He wandered around the second level of the house for a bit, wondering if there were anything left untouched. He hasn't the foggiest where the Dursley's might've gone to, but he had an idea they went to aunt Marge's and her stable full of bulldogs and other aggressive breeds.
An hour of wandering around the house later, or Harry felt like it had been an hour, he wandered back into Dudley's second room and almost stumbled over a plain wooden trunk. He had no idea how the simple compartment appeared, but he recognized the HJP insignia burned on the lock.
Of course, it's magic. Duh.
He carefully dropped to his knees and flicked the lock open. He visibly brightened when he found his Holly wand perched in the main compartment against a tanned-leather wand holster. Pressing the buttons on of the magical compartments, he saw a little note pop out. The note almost swam towards Harry until it folded into an origami shaped otter.
What had surprised Harry was the fact the origami otter had the ability to speak.
"Harry!" He recognized Hermione's voice from anywhere. "Oh, Harry I assume you are okay! Honestly, your Gryffindor bravery outweighs your cunning Slytherin capabilities. It's been a month since the outbreak and the Wizarding World is close to thinking about shutting down the wards because more and more muggle-borns and half-bloods are being bitten by those feral zombies, just yesterday Dean Thomas showed up with a bite on his right shoulder! Moody had to swiftly put him down, and… it was a horrid sight, Harry! One of our friends, one of the DA members… dead." Harry's breath hitched. Poor Dean. "Anyway… I know you're wondering about being back in that horrid place you were forced to stay in, but know that you're safe. Minerva assured that the blood wards have the capability of repelling the zombies away from the territory, even if it's not fueled by your Aunt's blood signature. Moody came down and placed certain charms on the wards in order to keep you safe."
"But what happened 'Mione? Why do I have a gash on the side that flipping hurts like hell." Harry asked knowing he won't receive an answer.
"Now, let me tell you about what I supplied you with your school trunk. Also, Harry well done in reusing the darn thing, it's beautiful workmanship. Anyway! Severus supplied you with potions to heal the wounds that you received from trying to combat against a few zombies, Pepper-Up, Sleeping draughts, Dreamless-Sleep, and a bottle of encased phoenix tears. There are also a few Blood replenishers as well. I've also packed a month full of food courtesy of the House-Elves in Hogwarts, and no matter how I try declining their insistence on servitude, they appeared with food nonetheless. Dobby's also at your beck and call, if you're wondering as well. I kept a Freshening and warming charm over them so they don't spoil. There is also a contraption I slaved over for weeks now. You'll figure it out when you see it, but know that the device only works if and only if the Ministry didn't shut down the wards."
He was already in the living area by the time Hermione's voice wavered. Disenchanting the Notice-Me-Not charm Fred had placed on the fireplace, an illusionary blanket flickered away immediately and revealed a pot full of Floo powder. He sighed in relief. But as he got into the Floo and grabbed a handful of Floo powder, he felt empty.
Something was wrong. When he slammed Floo powder on the soot and quickly said, "The Burrow," he was repelled. His body flung towards the nearest wall, unfortunately hitting against his bruised side. This time, he couldn't stop the scream from piercing the air; the fiery, excruciating pain almost but not nearly felt like a minor Cruciatus curse, and had him shaking on the floor. He whimpered when the pain fleeted away after a minute.
"Harry, they just shut down the Floo network."
THE BURROW - Post-Outbreak
"Where's my Harry?!" Ginny albeit shrieked in false worry.
Hermione cringed and cursed the very day she decided to stay in the Burrow and not at Hogwarts. At least she would have a moment without Ginny clawing at her for the whereabouts of her best friend who was still out there.
"Ginny." Bill Weasley, a scarred (hot) young man who held his worried wife in his arms, said sternly. "The Floo network is that brain of yours and think where Harry is at the moment instead of shrieking your head off." He finished and went back to whispering sweet-nothings in his lover's ear.
"William Weasley! Don't scold your sister for being worried!" Molly Weasley, the matron of the Weasley sprog, walked in the room with a tray full of food. But Bill didn't look like he felt any guilt for admonishing his the food was a bit limited, Hermione couldn't help but smile at Molly Weasley's love for cooking. "Now eat up! You all need your energy for the day! Ronald, Fred, George, come down and eat!" She hollered at the stairs. Almost immediately, her lover and his twin brothers came stumbling down the stairs in haste.
When they settled down for supper, Hermione and Ron shared a look of worry for their absent best friend. It almost felt like a rift loomed over them because of Harry's absence. Ron didn't even so much as touch his food even with his mother breathing down his neck, the worry outweighed his will to eat. To a degree, it shocked Hermione as she watched her lover poking at his food as opposed to his usual swallowing them whole.
"I'm worried about Harry. What-What if the wards don' work anymore? What if-" Hermione placed a hand over her lover's callused ones. "'Mione, our best friend is out there! Bloody hell, what if e's dead?!"
Hermione grimaced before a grin settled over her looming worry. "He's Harry Potter, Ronald. If anything he would make even the impossible possible. Just like us, he's an incredibly stubborn Gryffindor that even death couldn't keep him locked up in a gilded cage." Hermione assured her lover by rubbing her thumbs over Ron's white-gripped fists. "Anyway, I gave him the Ringer if he ever wants to talk to the both of us."
It was a bit of an interesting device she whipped up, with help from Bill Weasley and a worried Remus Lupin. The last and former Marauder revealed the mirrors he used to bail Sirius and James out of detention, but McGonagall had it immediately removed and it was never to be found again. However, he knew the right spellwork in order to replicate the clairvoyance magic he used in order to communicate from a long distance. So, in weeks, they created the Ringer. It was like a kid's muggle telephone, a can attached to a piece of string. In this context, the magic connected both ends of the 'telephone' and works even beyond the wards as well!
"You're right, but hell…" He took a nibble on the chicken and went back to staring in Hermione's warm, chocolate eyes. "I'm just worried about him."
"I am too."
Then Kingsley walked through the room with a look of distraught. Hermione felt dread crawling down her spine as she watched the usually composed, new Minister of Magic told a grim-looking Arthur Weasley seemingly bad news if the gasp wasn't any indication. Afterward, she heard the indication of an apparition, leaving the Patriarch of the Weasley family slumping in his seat.
"What's the matter, dear?" Molly placed her hands on Arthur's tense shoulders, which only alleviated some of the tension.
"They're shutting down the wards to the Wizarding World."
Then the Ringer began to ring.
4 Privet Drive - Post-Outbreak
"C'mon, c'mon… pick up…"
Just minutes prior, he took a pain balm, a red-viscous liquid said to apply directly on the wound. He pressed it with a paper-towel and still held it when he whispered his friend's name through the communicator… thing as prompted by the note.
"Harry?!"
There's the shriek he knows and loves.
"'Mione it's me," he didn't mean to sound like he's in pain, but the liquid felt like burning lava at the moment.
"Harry! Oh sweet heavenly Merlin, are you alright? You sound like you're in pain."
"I'm healing the wound, 'Mione. The balm burns like shit." He winced when he dabbed against the murky-purple portion in the center of the bruise. "I'm safe as well, you don't need to worry about it."
"Harrythey'reshuttingdownthewardsofthewizardingworldandsealingdiagonalley!" Hermione said all in one breath.
"What? Say it slower, Hermione. My brain's a bit foggy."
"Harry, the Ministry is shutting down the wards of the Wizarding World, and sealing Diagon Alley! Kingsley just left the news with Mr. Weasley before you called. He said that the outbreak is worse than they originally thought. They thought the muggles could come up with something from their science jargon, but… even the MACUSA doesn't know what to do."
Harry couldn't feel his body. He felt completely numb. He felt empty. He couldn't figure out the right thing to say in fear of yelling and spewing out fervent insults and make the situation direr, but he felt himself gawp and breathe heavily for some needed air.
"Mate, we are so sorry." He heard Ron in the background who sounded like his voice was muffled with tears. "Mom is trying to find a way to let you in, but dad said they couldn't turn on the Floo. Bloody hell mate, what're we going to do?"
...more or less, what am I to do? Harry thought to himself after a moment of silence. "I'll head to America…" He came to a decision, hopefully, he could make it across the pond. "I-I'll talk with the MACUSA, hopefully, they still have their wards up as well…"
"Harry that's far too dangerous. For all we know, the international port-key center is overrun with zombies. Out in the Muggle World is bad enough. And what is it you're going to talk with the MACUSA? They have absolutely no affairs with the British Ministry, they hardly wanted to be involved in the war that concerned the Muggle World entirely-
"'Mione! I'll figure it out along the way." Harry interrupted. Honestly, he doesn't know who he's trying to reassure in this predicament. Himself or his best friends. On one hand, he could die and be eaten by the dead, or die and be surrounded by his slightly dysfunctional family. He'd rather have the latter. "Maybe they could transfer me over to the Ministry using their portkeys. Aren't portkeys segregated internationally? If I could take a portkey from America to the British Ministry, maybe then I could force my way into the Wizarding World."
"However, portkeys are keyed to the wards as well. The Wizarding Ward has been around for tens of thousands millennia. Merlin knows what types of chams are used to prevent potential hazards." Hermione informed.
Harry sighed exasperatedly. "Then what can I do? I can't stay here. Not when my friends are in another blasted dimension!" He reminded angrily, his jaws clenched and hands pressing a bit too tightly against his bruise. "
"Why don't you look for survivors?"
"I can't jus-"
He heard a groan that was not of his own from downstairs.
"Harry?"
"Hermione, I'm going to hang up right now…"
"Harry, what?-"
Harry placed the tin-can faced down and walked towards the staircase. Looking down, he watched as Petunia Dursley, his dreaded aunt, walk limply up the stairs in hindered steps. Harry's breath hitched as he quickly went to go grab his wand from the compartment. By the time he made it back to the staircase, Petunia was already looking at him with hunger in her eyes.
He noticed the gnawed part on the side of her giraffe neck. How it caused blood to still ooze out from the crater. She looked awfully like the girl he'd seen with Hermione back in Grimmauld place with her foggy eyes and bruised wrists. Her skin was awfully pale and the smell of decay waft off of her like those cheap perfumes she insisted were quite luxurious.
Throughout the life he lived with his relatives, he had never wished death upon them no matter how much they wished death upon him. Rather he wished they got the vengeance for neglecting and emotionally abusing him, but… not this… not this carcass of the former Aunt who ridiculed him. He'd rather have the sneer and not the monstrous growl leaking out of her mouth.
"I'm sorry, Aunt Petunia."
He pointed his wand towards her. "Sectumsempra," he whispered and flicked his wand. A soft, ghostlike voice reverently caressed the magic when the spell shot out of the wand. Blade-like cuts immediately severed her maxilla straight from her cranium in a messy cut. Her body leaned back. Bloodshot out from the missing portion and the lifeless body finally went lifeless once more, as it dropped on the ground with a pool of blood pooling around her.
His heart pounded against his chest when he heard heavy footsteps walk up the stairs at a hurried pace. Once it ceased, he noticed the whale-sized man who could be no other than his uncle whose beady eyes were on Harry then turned on Petunia. Then his face grew an unhealthy shade of purple.
"WHAT DID YOU DO YOU FREAK?!" He all but shrieked. "YOU AND YOUR FREAKY NONSENSE CAUSED ALL OF THIS, EH?!" He went to strangle him, but Harry stopped him at wand-point. "Y-YOU AND ALL YOUR FREAKY FRIENDS CAUSED ALL THIS, EH?! WE KNEW WE SHOULD'VE DROWNED YOU WHEN WE HAD THE CHANCE! ALL OF THIS NONSENSE-"
Unbeknownst to Vernon Dursley, a reanimated Dudley Dursley walked up the stairs silently. His head hunkered down to his fat chest, and flesh completely ripped off his body revealing his rib cage. Harry noticed this but his eyes flicked to Vernon who was still cursing Harry's life and blaming him for the start of all this.
Dudley seemed to be attracted by the man's screams; it's like watching the moths fly to the light on the front porch when he tended the garden at night. Wasn't really surprising because Dudley would always do that when food was served.
"WE SHOULD KILL HIM, I TOLD PET, BUT NO SHE WANTED TO RAISE YOUR UNGRATEFUL, UNNATURAL FREAK! I SHOULD- AHHHH!" He was interrupted by his own blood-curdling scream when Dudley bit his neck harshly, ripping off a web of flesh from Vernon's port neck. "GET'EM OFF ME, GET'EM OFF ME!"
"Sectumsempra," Harry waved his wand hastily, only to hit Dudley's chest which really didn't do much. "Defodio," this time, the spell hit Dudley's head, making a really big hole out of his cranium.
He pointed his wand at his Uncle who wailed in pain.
"HELP ME! HELP ME!" When Harry remained silent, Vernon's anger heightened. "HELP ME YOU UNGRATEFUL FREAK OF NATURE!"
"Avada Kedavra."
And all was silent.
ANOTHER RUSHED CHAPTER, I KNOW. I'm sorry... I plan on brainstorming different ideas for this story. I apologize, again, for the rushed chapter!