Warning: Animal death and minor character death, cursing, zombie violence, and gore. If it makes you queasy, then be warned (but I'm crap at writing it, so it might not anyway. lol)! And also, the characters introduced in this chapter (and even Harry) would be slightly OOC. (because I always did think Harry was a wise-ass and cheeky; it won't stop because of the zombie apocalypse, I'd wager). Unbeta'd. Therefore, all mistakes are mine and would forever be mine :P

Disclaimer: I hereby...jk, I don't own these characters. NONE OF IT AT ALL!

Chapter 2: The American Dream

Arabella Figg considered herself not like many squibs in the Wizarding World. First of all, she did not let those petty insults Pureblood concubines whisper behind her back in the Ministry get to her, because the only things that mattered were her kneazles and cats. And she didn't desire or envy any type of magic, rather she enjoyed just watching other witches and wizards practice their abilities; she'd rather not bear that responsibility on her shoulders, especially when she took one glance at the now dilapidated 4 Privet Drive.

She felt pity for the Potter boy. Soon after Dumbledore albeit commanded her to check in on the boy periodically, she couldn't feel the envy magic had to offer. Despite all endless possibilities magic fabricated, the Potter boy had such a pointless life; all his life he dealt with harrowing labour wrought on by his Aunt and Uncle, physical abuse from his own cousin all because he was different.

She felt pity for the Potter boy and she also doesn't envy witches and wizards, because she can see how difference is taken in the Muggle World; and not everyone is acceptable of change, even if the world is on the brink of imminent destruction.

Figg sniffed her tears aback before stabbing one of the last tabby kneazles she bred just months ago. Her knife stained with blood gleamed sharply in the pearlescent moonlight before it embedded into another mewling kitten.

She had to do it. She had to put all of her beloved cats out of their misery. She couldn't bear raising her beloved animals during this dark age. Not when those things outside eat anything that so much as sniff in their direction. She just couldn't because her body felt worn due to her old age, she couldn't. Almost choking, she felt her tears almost strangle her, as she finally sliced one of her last kitten's neck, blood slipping through the serrated laceration. Figg took in a breath she desperately needed before she got off on her knees.

This was it. The end of the world. Before everything started exploding, she never really believed in God. But now? She figured some almighty being is punishing them all for their greed, their wrath, their pride, their lust for everything green, and she just can't deal with it, not anymore. So, she didn't feel an ounce of regret when she wrapped the noose around her neck after she ascended on a chair she nicked from the dining room.

To this day, she wondered if Harry Potter was okay. The boy never deserved the life he got, but he turned out to be a humble, powerful young wizard with so much to offer at his feet. Figg smiled, tears brewing in her eyes. He is such a sweet young boy, and hopefully, just hopefully, that Potter luck he seemed infamous for… would work out in this age of darkness.

The old lady slowly took in ragged breaths, calming the adrenaline she knew crawling into her veins. Suicide. Such a nary thought. She wasn't a teenager trying to find their identity, nor a wayward lover who just lost the love of her life, no. She was a hopeless old woman who slipped from reality long before the Wizarding World was introduced at her doorstep. When she kicked the chair over, she smiled.

Then everything went black...

"Scout ahead, would you dear Hedwig?"

A coo later and a prominent screech sent the owl gliding through the sky.

Harry watched Arabella Figg struggle with the noose wrapped around her delicate neck. He felt himself mourning for the woman who cared for him despite practically being commanded by Albus Dumbledore. At least she took the time to care for him instead of shoving him back with the Dursley's every summer; she would always bring cat-shaped cookies and scrapbooks of her kneazles, giving him a chance to even play with two of them before everything came tumbling down. His heart dropped when he looked at the ground underneath Figg's reanimated body. Most, if not all, of her kneazles littered the ground in heaps of guts and blood, even the kittens Figg introduced before he came back to the Dursleys.

He heaved a disgusted sigh because of the malodorous seeping through each of the kneazles' decaying carcasses. He assumed Figg only murdered her precious beloveds when the dead turned their ugly heads and started eating whatever walks past them. Even she gave up hope for humanity and brought her cats with her.

Hedwig comforted him as she was perched on his right shoulder, nuzzling his cheek with a coo. He lifted his arms to glide his hands through the soft, white feathers Hedwig always preened about before stepping over the carcasses and successfully avoiding the reanimated Figg.

"Shall we begin?"

"Harry?"

"Yes, 'Mione?"

"The Wizarding World fell,"

Harry's eyes widened. "What?"

Harry often wondered to himself if his home was taken away by another Dark Lord, would he participate in the battle once more, like he had with Voldemort? Or would he simply ignore it and simper in the corner of Grimmauld Place, hoping for the battle to be said and done? He had so many options but it ranged from being a coward and a pure Gryffindor, and he'd rather be a Slytherin when he thought about it carefully.

Hermione contacted him the other day, concerned for his well-being but also talking about the Wizarding World entirely. When she said the Wizarding World fell, Harry felt like screaming in distress. She quickly explained that it was an infected wizard who entered the wards before it fell. The Unspeakables and the Aurors tried to quickly detain the victim but to no avail. The wizard turned in approximately four hours and started biting other unsuspecting wizards and witches, causing a domino effect that broke the Wizarding World entirely. The only safe place, 'Mione explained, was Hogwarts, the Burrow, and the Ministry, for now. Hogsmeade was currently dominated by walkers, but the Aurors slowly took them out and started clearing the bodies before they grew attracted to the noise.

Harry felt like sobbing. He asked about the people who went through with their eighth year in Hogwarts, Teddy and Andromeda, and the rest of the DA. Fortunately, Grimmauld Place wasn't overtaken and Kreacher wouldn't let it be so, so Andromeda and Teddy were safe for now. However, Hermione said they had a mourning ceremony for Seamus Finnigan and Katie Bell because they fell victim to a walker's bite. Two invaluable DA participants that went through hell after the battle, PTSD and all that tat.

McGonagall was seemingly devastated with more and more of her original Gryffindors falling victim to the bite, and children dropping Hogwarts out of their magical curriculum. She had insisted she would be on top of the student's safety and so will the other brilliant professors such as Severus Snape, Filius Flitwick, Remus Lupin, Rubeus Hagrid, and Pomona Sprout. Harry sighed in relief when he learned that his big oaf of a friend didn't die, nor any of his creatures. The headmistress herself had a few words for Harry, telling him to remain safe and courageous, be an epitome of Gryffindor, were her exact words.

By the time Hermione said her goodbyes, Harry sat down, contemplating. He slumped in the green, bunker couch as he fed Hedwig some bacon strips from his trunk. She landed on Harry's lap and nuzzled his chest affectionately before reveling in his attention. Harry smiled slightly.

"What do you think, Hedwig? Should we find a way back to the Wizarding World, or should we take our chances in surviving in the Muggle World?" He asked his beloved owl.

Harry thought about it for a while. On one hand, he could reunite with his friends and come up with possible solutions in combating this outbreak; on the other, he realized he could search for survivors and communicate with the MACUSA, once he found a way to America. The latter had a problem, however. He has no possible way of transporting himself to America; the former solution is out of the question because the wards fell down. He felt as if the latter outweighs his first option.

He just doesn't know how in the hell he is going to get to America.

So in the meantime, Harry occupied himself with Figg's house for a while. He noticed before that the dead, which surrounded the house in one large horde, didn't bother with the house itself because of Arabella Figg's hanging body. Essentially, she acted like a zombie repellent, which Harry found interesting. The kneazles repulsive decay actually added to the repellent because of their magical components, said Luna Lovegood when she talked with him over the Ringer. All-in-all, he was safe… for now.

He walked near the bookshelf, occupying himself with the nineteenth-century literature Figg had in stock. He was surprised to see the Tales of the Beedle and the Bard in all its glory. Hermione would have a field day with muggle literature if she wasn't so fascinated with magical theory. Eventually, Harry settled for Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice right before he saw something shining in the fireplace in the corner of his eyes.

Momentarily, Harry placed the book on the coffee table before walking towards the fireplace, looking at a box in the flame. With a flick of his wand, he extinguished the fire and waited a moment for the heat to simmer down before diving his hands through the charred soot. He felt something press against the pads of his fingers; he grasped it and lifted into his line of sight.

It was a matchbox that looked too clean for Harry's likings. When he pulled the tab off, there were no matches, but a pommel of a sword poking out from the inside. He pulled the pommel out of the matchbox, dropping it in the process, which surprised him because the sword seemed too familiarly heavy. Minutes later, he pulled the glistening, bejeweled sword out of the matchbox and lifted it into the moonlight.

Harry gawped. It was the Gryffindor sword.

"How in the-" His momentary freak out was interrupted by a voice coming from the matchbox.

"Harry!" Harry would imagine Luna's smug face when she found something she could do quite brilliantly. "Do you remember the Vanishing Cabinet Dragon used to smuggle the Death Eaters into Hogwarts? Of course, you do. Well, daddy found a way to bypass the charms that transfer the items in the cabinet to another, fixing it to a point location like a portkey! Luckily, the vanishing cabinets are not keyed to the ward so anything that is transferred out will not be hindered by the border wards inevitable shut down! My foresight provided me with your location, don't worry, but it took a lot out of me, so I need to rest for now. Bye, Harry. For now." Then the voice died down and the matchbox spat out the sorting hat, then burned to cinders.

"Do you wager we would survive this, Hedwig?"

All Hedwig did was hoot at her bonded one.

"Hopefully…"

"Hedwig? Is that a dog, or am I hallucinating?"

"Hoo."

Hope was overrated at this point in time. He spent over a few months in Little Whinging, scouring the area for anything to pillage. Luckily, he learned how to slip through a horde undetected by smothering some guts on his person, rendering Hedwig in avoiding him for a good week. But that was it, that's all he learned except for the fact he actually grew a bit of muscle handling and lugging around a broadsword.

Currently, he was in an alleyway scouring for anything when he spotted a pure-white, male, heterochromatic eyed siberian husky roaming around, perhaps scavenging for food. The poor thing looked malnourished, which Harry's heart flew for when he saw the revealed rib cage poking against the husky's abdomen. He remembered going days and even weeks without food before his relatives realized he can essentially drop dead with the lack of sustenance.

Deciding to be a good human being, he enlarged his trunk once he nicked it from his pocket. He could practically hear the snarl coming from the husky just up ahead of him, but it did not pause him from taking out a slab of baked steak from one of the compartments in his trunk. Harry smiled when the dog paused in his snarling and his tongue rolling out of his snout from the scent of good food. He placed one steak on the floor and squatted down to his knees, waiting for the dog.

The poor thing seemed almost skeptical at the prospect of potential food being laid out in front of him, staking Harry's heart a little. For a canine, the dog was obviously intelligent which Harry could respect. But it didn't unwind the knot in his heart when the dog thinks he will fish the steak from him.

Moments later, the dog finally lets his instincts override his sensible intelligence by gormandizing the steak, ripping it apart with his large canines. Harry watched, fascinated with the way the dog bit into the steak like nobody's business, and basically feasted on the steak for the next five minutes.

When he felt like his work was done, he felt ahead press against his right leg. Hedwig hooted from her place on his shoulder and elegantly swooped down, perching herself on the dog's back. The dog himself looked startled and tried to chase the owl off his back, but Hedwig seemed too smug for an owl. Harry shook his head slightly and placed his hands on the dog's face once he stopped fumbling with Hedwig.

"Hi boy," He cooed, stroking the side of the dog's ears affectionately. "You want to come along with us?" He knew the dog did not understand a single word he just said, but he wanted to ask anyway. After a moment of consideration, Harry received a soft lick against his cheek in response with a light bump to his forehead.

"Okay. Well, then c'mon Nox."

"Nox?"

"Woof!"

"Do you think we'll survive this?"

"Woof, woof!"

"H'okay… I'm talking to animals…"

Hedwig perched herself on the table, looking quite proud for an owl.

She dropped a golden feather on the coffee table in Arabella Figg's house. Harry could feel the almost palpable, exuding magic resonating from the object; Nox adorably cocked his head slightly before placing it back on Harry's lap.

"Hedwig?"

All the owl did was nudge it forward, expanding her wings slightly.

And the stupid boy touched it. He sighed exasperatedly when he felt the magic consuming him whole, and popping him somewhere.

Harry cursed his Potter luck.

There was nothing lucky about it, ironically; it's a luck-curse dichotomy, Hermione said one day. Because he finds himself in other situations even more trivial and life-threatening, and sometimes he does the impossible. It worked in a drastic cycle that grates on his nerves now that he thinks about it, but decided he should stop thinking because there were materializing figures standing in the background.

One had a gun trained in between his eyes. And he was bounded, and his animals were in the corner of the room. He could particularly hear Hedwig's indignant screech and Nox's guttural growls.

"Well, isn't this a lovely hello?" Harry wonders why he heightens other people's ire for him whenever he was bounded (or had no potential escape). "Didn't think the greeting would ever be more lovely. What next? Shotguns and Ak-47 with an orgy in the back? If this is how people greet each other these days, I wonder how you guys say hello to your own group." Sarcasm was his best friend in these types of situations, which usually leads to at least some people chuckling. But the guy with the gun trained between Harry's eyes did not look so amused, rather Harry thinks the scowl grew. Even the shaky woman tightened her hold on the handgun in her hands, pointing it towards a growling Nox (who Harry might've thought would attack the guy, given Harry only spent a few weeks with the dog).

"Shut up before I pop your brains out, boy."

Seriously? Why do people call him a boy? He inwardly pouted. He was nineteen years old! Just because he was tiny… wait a tick… Harry's eyes widened in realization when he heard a lack of an accent dripping from the man's voice, rather it sounded more southern (western?) - more American.

Was he in Britain anymore, or were they tourists he transported in front of?

"How did you get here, anyway?" When Harry didn't answer immediately because he was inwardly freaking out, the man tightened his grip on the gun's grip, digits itching to pull the trigger. "You weren't here before, so how the hell did you get in without attracting these geeks?"

"It's hard to answer a man at gunpoint, and it doesn't really help when the man himself is already shaking with adrenaline." Harry pointed out. The man hand's shook from inexperience when handling the gun, marking him unreliable in not accidentally pulling the trigger when Harry all but breathes. "Doesn't seem you will relent. So it's going to be awkward waiting for an answer."

The man all but looked threatening when the words dripped off Harry's sarcastic tongue. "Or, I can pop your brains out and be done with this. Then we kill your animals after that."

Wow. Jerk, much? "Okay. I relent. Sorry, sarcasm streams out of me like the Nile River. I can't help it! Don't you dare lay your hands on my dog." He shot a petrifying look at the shaky blond woman who looked positively frightened at Nox's menacing growl. However, truthfully he was stalling for more time concerning he hasn't really weaved a fanciful tale on how he suddenly appeared in the obvious department store without revealing magic to a pair of muggles. Although since the wards close and all that hogwash, Harry doubted any obliviator would come.

But… he wasn't a Slytherin for nothing! He could be cunning when he wanted (or desired) to be.

"I was walking on the streets in order to find some shelter," Harry says evenly. "Then the dead started showing up in hordes and took us by surprise. So, I lead myself and my animals into the nearest building, where it is coincidentally where you two inhabited. Afterward, I suddenly grew exhausted and crashed on the floor; and look at where we are now." He smoothly says before mockingly bowing to the African-American man who skeptically glared at him as he weaved his lie.

"T! We can't keep taking people in."

"Who said that I was going to take this Brit in with us? Who knows if he tellin' the truth!?" The man argued, gun still trained between Harry's eyes. "How do we know you tellin' the truth, huh? For all we know you will just slit our throats and take our shit!"

Harry felt his patience wear thin.

"If I came to this building with ill intent, I would muster up every fiber in my being to search you both out and murder you in cold blood. You're still living are you not? If I came for supplies I would've brought more than myself, an owl, and a dog with me, now would I?" Fuck the truth. Harry raised a cocked, elegant brow despite his currently bound disposition. "And anyway, what could I possibly do without a gun? I don't even have a physical weapon with me for Mer-God's sake!" That wasn't all true, he transfigured Gryffindor's sword into a pen which wasn't at all inspired by Rick Riordan's The Lightning Thief. He slipped it into his pocket before he touched that magical thing Hedwig delivered. Fortunately, it's still in his pocket, pressing against his legs.

"Now would you please release me so I can get on my merry way-"

"What's going on here?" Oh great, another person to join in on the Harry interrogation! "Wait, who's he?"

The bloke walking in on them was a nice-looking bloke who walked with a bunch of insecurities lodged in his head. He looked like an Asian modern-day pizza boy who looked right around Harry's age, but he'd reckon that the bloke had a knack for surviving given he didn't become the dead's delivered pizza without payment.

"What's your name?" Didn't take long for the man to finally become a bit courteous towards his hostage. The gun-trained man asked after a few moments, not even acknowledging the other bloke's sudden appearance.

"Harry Potter," Harry answered. "Are you finally going to let me go? I don't feel too comfortable at all sitting in zen on a hard surface."

The man with the gun snorted. "Like we're going to let you run free when all we know you might shoot us behind the back."

Harry felt a tick in his temple. "Oh my-" He was rudely interrupted by a harsh, discordant screech coming from the woman who held his two companions at gunpoint.

"Shit! T, they're crashing through the second door. Do you what you need to do with him, quickly!" Harry eyed the door with askance. He didn't feel assuaged when the attention retracted from him, but the lack for him concerning he still sat in zen, incarcerated.

"Fuck, shit!"

Harry would've been amused, but the gun was still trained on him despite the man's attention focused solely on the undead outside the glass door, one seemingly using a rock in order to pummel the screen. His state of stress be damned, he would've laughed outright because these two, his supposed captors, were in duress and hasn't a clue on what to do. Though he would find it extremely acceptable if they untied the bound constraining his hands, mitigating what he feared would be his imminent death.

He knows he could use magic at times like these, but he'd rather not reveal everything up his sleeve before he showed anything. Instead, he glanced at the Asian bloke imploringly. The bloke seems nicer than the one who held him at gunpoint, and easier to break. Mind as well take advantage of it.

A few minutes later, "T, maybe we should just let him go." the Asian says. Harry almost smirked.

The man turned with a lack of grace. "What?! Are you fuckin' crazy, Glenn? We don't know anything about this Harry what's-his-name! And here you are sayin' we should just let him go to do whatever he wants! For all we know, he might be dangerous." It sounds almost like the interrogation was for nothing but to stall.

"Dude, the walker's are going to get through the door any shitting minute now. Do you want to live with the fact we left a man to die because of our doing?" 'Glenn' asked defiantly. "If you go through with it, it's on everyone's conscious, T."

Harry noted the anger wash away from the man's face. Then a few minutes later, he bent down and untied the knot bounding Harry's hands.

"You try anything, I kill you. Got it?" Harry nodded in response and sighed in relief when the man called off the shaky blond woman off his companions.

Almost immediately, Nox and Hedwig advanced towards Harry. Nox pressed his head against Harry's neck and Hedwig perched herself on his shoulder, squawking at the woman and the man.

"H-Hey," when the two kidnappers walked away, Glenn shyly ambled towards him. "I'm sorry for what they did back there. We are good people. It's just tense now, you know? We can't trust everyone anymore, and we've already had someone attracting the walkers here. More of my fault than any. Anyway, I'm Glenn if you didn't hear."

"Harry Potter. And I'm sure as hell will do the same thing if someone came out of nowhere. Though I highly doubt I would interrogate someone on the floor whilst a horde knocks on your doorstep." No, he wouldn't do the same thing, but Glenn didn't need to know that. He just needed to reassure the man because it wasn't his fault, it was his companions who took it out of proportion. "Anyway, I better get a move on and regain my bearings."

"Hey, you can stay with us for a while." He warily eyed Nox who was growling at him, perhaps because he moved closer. "After all the geeks clear, you can go on your own then. I don't think its safe out there right now."

"When will it ever be safe anymore?"

"Good point," Glenn smirked.

"Uhm.. don't mean to be a dunce or anything… but, where are we exactly?"

Glenn eyed him confusedly. "Well, I sorta rushed inside of here and crashed in exhaustion. I honestly didn't know where I was going."

The Asian kid almost seemed amused. "Atlanta Department Store, you know. The store hallmarking Atlanta, Georgia in all its pride." He responded.

"What?"