That I Should Rise and You Should Not

by rainbow-hat

Spring, season of meetings. Encountering Rick Grimes and his rag-tag family, Harry and his portkey lost friends are left wondering if this is the end of their troubles in a world infested with the undead, or the beginning of them. At least they have each other. Bonds form and new families are made as those who do not rise are buried and burned.

7. Chapter 7

Just wanted to let folks know that there are no adult/teenager relationships in this fic. This is a family-building fic. What relationships that may be/will be established will be adult/adult or teenager/teenager and if—IF—I get as far as I want, there is a possible pairing of Charlie and Beth, which is a six-year gap, 16 and 22, but considering that's the age gap between my parents (actually my parents are seven) and they met when my mother was sixteen, I think it's passable? Right? *Please don't shoot me*

However, that's a MAYBE, I could change my mind. Remember, this is a crossover with the Walking Dead, someone might DIE before I get around to the pairing. XD

Anyway, just wanted to establish that, encase anyone was worried – I'll add a note at the beginning of the fic as well, as I know it can be confusing on this site sometimes. :)

But this fic is very much about building a family and surviving in a zombie apocalypse, which is very much what I love about the Walking Dead, and why I think it's such a good show. As hilarious as it sounds, I watch it because the characters have become a 'family' and I enjoy seeing what they do in the situations thrown at them. ^^;

With that said,

Enjoy the update!

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Chapter Seven

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It had come upon the world so quietly that Dudley had barely noticed it at first. Rumours, whispers just touching the surfaces of conversations. Shady glances shared between his friends as they murmured in the back of the classroom—did you see that Youtube video—did you read that article—did you hear about that incident?

Perhaps it was because of Harry that he started to take more notice of the subtle changes in the neighbourhood. Harry had taught him to be observant, to never let his guard down, just encase he had to run from one of those—Death Eaters—in the end, it was not an eater of death that came upon them, but the undead themselves.

So clearly the memory was burned into him, like the scars that littered his arms from glass shattering. Dudley fingered the thick lines marring his skin.

Mr. Duncan from number five Privet Drive had woken them screaming, smashing on the back door of the house. Harry had only left a few days prior, and Dudley had thought he could finally relax for the rest of the summer, no longer would he have to watch out for his cousin around his father and mother.

All his instincts told him, the moment he was awoken in the dead of the night, by the screams and the smashing of glass, that the world he knew was no more.

Thundering down the stairs after his father, he had encountered a horrific scene. He knew Mr. Duncan's two sons had been into drugs, he and his friends had caught them a few times in the park, behind the dumpsters—it had not been a pretty sight.

But it was nothing like this. Drugs didn't do this, at least, not that he knew of. Drugs didn't make sons eat their fathers in the living room of their neighbour. The screaming and wailing was echoed down the street and he finally realized he was hearing sirens, and there was a distinct scent of smoke filling the air.

"Go," his father ordered, "I'll deal with this."

He might not have liked his father much, but he did respect the man as a son.

"Mum!" He had grabbed his mother, dragging her up the stairs. "Get a bag, just grab what you can." Shoving her into her room he had madly dashed for his own, ripping open his wardrobe, yanking out the emergency bag he had stashed away. Harry had drilled it into him, have it there, keep it there, check it every month, repack it every month, someday you are going to need it, someday the wards will fail, someday they will come.

Was this it?

He had no idea, but he had to act how Harry had taught him. Did he had time to get his friends? He had panicked at that moment, not knowing if he had drilled into Piers the importance of his get-away bag enough. Snatching up the bag, he threw it over his shoulder and tore out of his room, slapping open the door into Harry's room. Desperately he had searched for the correct floorboard and hacked at it with his pocket knife, finding within it, the precious few wizarding coins, a note Harry had written for such a disaster, and the spare keys into Mrs. Figg's house.

Stuffing them all into his pockets he ran back out into the corridor. His mother stood, dressed in a flowery skirt and cardigan, bearing a heavy suitcase. He'd snatched it from her.

"Come on!"

"Dudley—"

"Move."

"Your father."

"Dad! Come on!" Thundering back down the stairs Dudley rounded into the living room, pulling back in horror at the sight. His father had just lay there, in a pile of blood, his throat ripped out, his eyes staring at the ceiling. He'd heard the strangled cry his mother gave behind him, and it caused him to react, realizing that Mr. Duncan's sons were still staggering about—eating—eating his father.

Everything in him had wanted to vomit, but he refused, he had turned, grabbed his mother's wrist and ran. Into the street and toward Piers house.

Perhaps it was a good thing it was still night-time, that the chaos of the situation had not yet set in on the world, as he doubted he would have made it very far down the street if more of the—undead—had been out and about that night. Reaching Piers house, he flung rocks at his friend's window until Piers opened it, peering out, looking all blurry eyed from sleep.

"Yo? What's up?"

"Operation Harry."

"Ahhh, shit-man, seriously, now?" Piers vanished back into his room.

Dudley recalled feeling his mother's tug on his wrist. He'd glanced back at her, noticing she was looking down the street. Like a hearth burning low, London was lit with a growing yellow warmth. London was burning. London was burning.

"Dudley, do you see it?" Piers called out.

"Yeah."

"It's bad man."

"Yeah. Mum, don't look. Just don't look."

Piers had thrown his pack out the window and vaulted onto the roof, scampering down until he caught the roof ledge and with an acrobatic twist he landed on the grass. He was a total show off, always liked to reveal his awesome stunt skills.

"Piers!" His mother hissed. "I have told you not to do that!"

Piers had just shrugged. "It's what I'm good at, like mah parents care, right?"

His mother had huffed. She knew the rumours, very few people on the street did not know the rumours about Piers family life. The currency of their street was rumours.

"Is it happening?" Piers had popped out his phone.

"Yeah. Dad's dead."

"Shit, shit, I'm sorry, Mrs. D!"

"Piers! Language," his mother snapped. They both could not blame her. She was near hysterical. Dudley grabbed her wrist again, dragging her down the street. Folk were beginning to spread out onto the lawns and street, and he'd had no idea who was a danger and who wasn't. Piers had a stolen gun from his brother, who was a cop, but that was all they'd had to work with and at the time, they'd had no idea what they were fighting.

Getting his mother inside was the best option he could think of.

"I don't think it's the wizards, Piers. They wouldn't do this."

"Nope." Piers had shoved his mobile into his face, showing a youtube video of something rather similar to the scene he had witnessed in his living room. Of people eating people. Once more, the sensation of wanting to vomit gripped his stomach.

"What's going on?" He had choked out.

"Let me see that," his mother insisted and Piers had no choice but to show the youtube clip. He had watched his mother's flushed cheeks pale, and sweat gather under her chin. The frailness of her hands was all the more apparent as they shook and she shoved the mobile back into Piers.

"They look sick."

"Well, dah, Mrs. D," Piers grumbled. "Normal people don't go around eating other people."

"No," his mother had insisted, "I mean they don't…they don't look…alive. Their movements are not right." She had quietened down after that, lost in her own thoughts.

Dudley turned to Piers. "You sure you have everything, don't want to say goodbye to your parents?"

Piers shrugged on his backpack. "Hell no, good riddens. Let's find Harry."

"Dudley, where are we going?" His mother's face had been so pale in the dim light of the street lamps. Without his father around, she was frail, delicate, the flower her name suggested she was. He knew she was so much braver and stronger than this. She had put up with so much in her life, she just had to realize it. He squeezed her wrist firmly.

"Mum, Harry's prepared me for something like this for a long time. Me and Piers, we've been organizing for an escape ever since Harry returned from his second year and told us about Voldemort, but this isn't Voldemort, this is something else. Our plan still applies though. We find Harry, or one of the Wizards who know him."

Never before had he seen her look so confused. It was as though he was his father, and he had struck her.

"What…what are you talking about, I thought you hated Harry?"

"Hated him?" Dudley remembered how he had spluttered out the words, and how Piers had laughed. "Mum, he's my cousin! He's family! He's blood. There is a magical ward around our house that protects us from evil wizards because of him! How can I hate him?"

"Shit, Mrs. D. Seriously need to screw your head back on proper." Piers jumped over the fence of Mrs. Figg's house.

His mother simply opened the gate, eyeing Piers with a scowl. Dudley knocked a few times on the door. He had shaken his head to Piers when no reply came, and they had peered through the darkened windows. No one appeared home, so he slipped in the key and unlocked the door. As he ran through the instructions Harry had given him about using the floor network, he felt the horror of the situation finally settling in, and the trembles took over. His father was dead. People were eating people. What was going on?

No, he could get answers from the wizards. They would know something.

"Mrs. Figgs?" Piers had called out. "Yo! Old Lady Figgs?"

He heard his mother shout as cats scampered past them. Dudley had laughed as Jasper, a black cat, that he had always thought was a very witch-y cat, leapt up onto his shoulder and rubbed his cheek. "Your mother not home?"

The feline replied with a low purr.

"I see, well, she won't mind if we use her floo, will she?" He dragged his mother toward the fireplace and Piers studied the green power in a bowl nearby.

"You remember what Harry said, right?" Piers had snatched up some powder. "We have to go through, one at a time, and we have to say the words super, super clearly."

"Yeah." Dudley had looked at his mother. "Mum, you need to listen to me carefully. You have to take the powder, throw it into the fireplace, and say Dumbledore's Office, Hogwarts. Very clearly. Watch Piers do it, okay."

Piers, ever the knight in cargo-pants, bounded toward the fireplace and threw the powder in with gusto, repeating the words and with a loud whoosh, he just vanished. Dudley shoved his mother in, handing over the bowl.

"I…I can't…I can't do this, Dudley."

"Mum!" He had gripped her wrist firmly, looking into her eyes, "Dad's dead. Don't die on me too, okay."

With a deep breath, she threw her handful of powder into the fireplace, vanishing along with the words she spoke. Her last cry was a cry of warning, and it was all he had to realize the sudden danger he was in. A hand snagged him from behind, the grip so strong he was barely able to twist himself out of it. The fabric of his shirt ripped, along with the skin on his shoulder and blood seeped down his back and chest.

Dudley fumbled back. The ebbing glow of the floo's green tinge caught the contours of Mrs. Figg's as she swaggered and swaged, her mouth open in a moan, putrid saliva, sinking of rotting flesh, dribbling down her chin. She had always been a woman of skin and bones, more frail than even his mother, walking around with her cane, smiling as she waved it at all the children who past her by.

She held no cane now, and there was no smile on her once cheerful face, void of its liveliness. He saw only a blank void remaining in grey, unblinking eyes. Arms that had once welcomed him with hugs now stretched out to him in a groping manner.

Dudley had covered his mouth. That faint stink of cat piss she'd always had in her clothes, that had usually put everyone off going near her, it had been replaced with a vile, awful scent of rot. With a scream he had turned tail and run, through the house, unwilling, back then, to kill what was already dead.

The cats had followed him, terrified, unsure of what to do.

Jasper got between his legs and he had tripped on the black-cat, falling on the kitchen floor.

He remembered the gripping panic, how it had caused him to go shock still, his limbs completely freezing as Mrs. Figg's came upon him, no longer the kindly old lady she had once been, but now some sort of vision he would have seen in a video game.

It was no game—it was reality—and he couldn't do anything to save himself.

Nothing.

Then the light had come, blitzing through the stale air, smelling like sugar. Magic. Magic had always smelt like sugar to him whenever Harry was around. Mrs. Figg's head just dropped away and her whole body flopped at his feet, revealing a figure dressed in black.

He had gazed up at the man standing over him, wand at the ready, sheer relief filling him enough that he felt tears trickle down his cheeks.

"Dudley Dursley, I presume?"

"Ye...yeah?" he had spluttered.

"I am Professor Severus Snape. Your mother was worried."
And that—that had been how he had met the man Harry had always whinged about, but had secretly respected. The man that his mother had once known as a childhood friend. A man who could have been his uncle if history had been different. A man he rather liked.

And that—that was how his world had both ended and begun.

It had been an awful night, when he had lost his father, but sort of gained so much more in that loss. Harry's world had become his world, and whatever world Harry was now in, he hoped his cousin was not getting into too much trouble without him.

He sighed, dropping his hand away from the scars over his arms.

"You should be sleeping, Ley."

Smooth, like honey blended with milk, that was Severus Snape's voice. It was as comforting as a warm drink on a cold night, while he had a flu. The man might have been a terrifying spectre, but he was the only man who had ever known him how to act, to behave, like a proper gentleman. He supposed it was because now, he was in a world where young men were supposed to be gentlemen, like out of those weird historical books his mother and Harry used to read. Harry had loved them, but Harry had been an romantic, stuck in his world of heroes. He couldn't blame his cousin, not really.

"I'm just worried about Mum." Dudley shuffled about on the bed, making room for Severus as the man eased down on the rickety furniture. The dim light of the candle lit the contours of the man's sharp features, his crocked nose, pointed chin and thin lips, cast interesting shadows Dudley strangely admired. He could see what his mother respected in the man. He was stern, quiet and had a hidden strength veiled behind his slender and tall limbs—rather like his mother now that Dudley thought about it—rather like Harry too.

"She'll be fine. Charlie won't let anything happen to her."

"I know," Dudley murmured. He fitted himself into a ball, concealing his own warm.

Severus' sigh was so soft, he almost missed it.

Something thudded nearby, causing them both to tense. Dudley reached for is knife and Severus was on his feet. The candle died, plunging the tiny room into darkness.

The thudding continued. Dudley gripped his hilt of his knife tighter, narrowing his eyes at the door. The handle turned.

The door inched open.

He relaxed back into the bed as Charlie and his mother slipped into the room. Charlie carefully reset the door, waving his wand over it in a quick set of movements Dudley had come to understand were wards and alarms. Apparently the Weasley family were rather good with protective magic's—which was why he currently wore a stone around his neck, with a tiny rune carved into it. Bill Weasley had made them, adding a bit of his blood to each stone and while it was not as effective as the incredible clock he had once seen in the Weasley house that indicated the location of each family member, it still could be used to locate someone over a short distance.

He smiled weakly. The magical's worried a lot about misplacing him and his mother, it was nice—that they cared enough to bother but the Weasley's were very loyal, and they were Harry's family, and therefore, they were Weasley family too—or something like that.

"What's it like?" Severus whispered, relighting the candles.

Charlie searched around for their water, pouring it into a kettle, setting it on the small stove that he lit with a flick of his wand. "We're going to have to wait until morning, the Walkers are just too restless for us to make a move tonight."

"We managed to find some cans." Petunia knelt, pulling out of her bag a few cans of food. "It isn't much, but it will tide us over until we get back to Hogwarts."

"Is the package still safe?" Charlie added tea to his boiling water.

Dudley nodded quickly, his eyes briefly drawn to his back-pack tucked beside him on the bed. It was his job to protect the package. The whole reason why the four of them were out here.

Only he and his mother could access Harry's vault in the depths of Gringotts, and only Charlie Weasley could tame the dragon left rotting down there after the Goblins had up-and-left for the underworld of their mines to wait out the extinction of the Human race. Severus had come along because the man was by far the best killer amongst them, and someone had needed to protect them.

"We'll be fine." Severus wrapped his hand around Petunia's. "Just a few more apperation jumps and we'll be back at Hogwarts."

"If there is anything left by the time we get there…" Dudley grumbled.

"There will be," Charlie assured, "Hogwarts has never fallen before."

"This is different though." Dudley squeezed his eyes shut. "If we die, we turn. Anyone in Hogwarts can…just…" He shivered. "And the Death Eaters are just being so persistent."

Severus rubbed at his covered arm. Dudley pressed his lips together. The ugly tattoo that marred the man's pale flesh still pained him. It worried Professor Dumbledore, making him think that perhaps Voldemort was still lurking about and there was nothing they could do in the ruins of civilization. Both mundane and magical were collapsing, Voldemort's powerful influence was wanning when he had no body, and his Death Eaters were left with very little to desire rulership over.

As far as Dudley could tell, they just wanted Hogwarts because it was a safe place. The Weasley family had not been the only family that had fled there when things had started to go crazy in the magical world, a lot of magical families had uprooted themselves had headed to the ancient castle. It was now not being a place of learning, but a place of refuge, like a proper castle. Its walls finally doing what they had been created to do—to keep evil out.

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Morning came with a grey, murky light that bled through windows covered in newspaper. Tiny flecks of dust danced in the chilled air that breathed through the cracks in the door and wooden panels of the walls. Dudley curled deeper into his jackets collar as he burrowed his feet into his shoes. Severus and Charlie stood at the door already, speaking in soft, hushed tones, they must not have wanted to make his mother worry about the day ahead. They had a fair distance to cover.

The problem with apperating was that it could be tracked by the Death Eaters who had likely gained some foothold in the Ministry since the collapse of the mundane civilization. They had to be careful not to bring unwanted attention on themselves now that incredibly dangerous wizards and witches were free from Azkaban. Sure, they weren't the Dark Lord, but from what Severus had told him, they were pretty scary in their own right.

Standing he shouldered his pack, wiggling it about until it found a comfortable position.

He could feel his mother's gaze and ignored it. She was worried. He wished she would worry more about herself than she worried about him.

"You finished?" Charlie inquired.

Dudley nodded.

"Good. Stick close to Severus. Petunia, remember what I taught you the other night. If you get grabbed, twist and yank, okay. They may be strong, but they are rotting."

"I know." She took up her baseball bat. Dudley repressed the shutter that threatened to spread through him. The world had changed so much that now his mother was required to carry a makeshift weapon. If only Harry was here to see such a strange sight.

Charlie carefully opened the door, and one by one, they crept out into the brisk morning air. No matter how often he encountered it, the stretch of rot, it never became normal. It caught in his throat, always making him wanting to gag on how disgusting it was, and how it tainted even beautiful mornings like this one.

A few Walkers ambled down the small village street.

"Not enough to cast a concealment charm, you think?" Charlie murmured to Severus.

"I don't want to risk it. It will drain our magical cores if we keep the charm up to long and we have no idea what's ahead of us today. If we keep quiet enough, we should be able to pass them by." Severus assured Petunia forward, and she heaved herself over some crates, climbing up onto a wall.

"It's clear," she called back.

Charlie joined her and they leapt down. Dudley sighed. This was the part he rather hated about his life now, the clambering about in the shadows—feeling like he was just waiting for something to come out and kill him. If it wasn't other Muggles, it was wizards, or the undead. Something was always lurking, waiting, wanting to gut him.

The going was slow, leaving him with a lot of time to think. Thinking—he seemed to do so much of that now days. Thinking, reading, learning, more thinking. His thoughts so often tumbled about, getting lost in Harry's green eyes, and his cousins soft voice, echoing back at him, telling him his world could so easily shatter around him.

How true his cousin had been.

He just doubted Harry had actually meant this—world—this world of the undead—when they had sat up late at night, contemplating life together, Harry nursing his battered body, and him feeling so guilty for being unable to do anything to stop it.

He sighed, pausing at a set of stairs down into an alley. He swiped away sweat.

"Wherever you are now, Harry, I hope you're doing better than I am."

Crawling around the streets of deserted little Scottish town was not what he had envisioned for his future, at all. Despite the cold mist, almost a rain, that sat heavy in the air, he felt hot under his coat. Trotting down the stairs he blinked through the fog, wondering why he could no longer see Charlie and his mother.

The apperation point was no too far ahead now. It was in some little pokey store that had once been a bakery. His stomach grumbled and he poked at it in annoyance. Right now was not the time to be wishing for a cake. Mind drifting to the delights of being back in the warm, comforting halls of Hogwarts, Dudley rested a hand on the doorframe of the bakery.

"Dudley!" Charlie shouted. "Don't!"

Dudley snapped around. Standing on a roof some distance from him, Charlie was waving his hands. What the fudge—why was Charlie up there? His eyes widened, all breath sucked out of his lungs as he gradually craned his neck back toward the entrance.

Walkers.

Walkers. So many. Walkers. They all swung in his direction, their foul, rancid faces dribbling with decay. Glass shattered as the window panels of the small shop burst, the undead piling out into the small street.

His feet froze. He had no were to go. His knife felt like a useless twig in his grip.

A Walker dove for him.

He moved, his leg twisting back as he set himself low, just as Blaise had taught him as he shoved his full weight into the knife thrust. Slamming the blade into the jaw of the Walker he ignored the brown, gunky blood that stained his hand and wrist as he wrenched it out and threw the body aside.

"Come and get it, you stinking pond scum."

Gurgles where the only reply he gained, but limp, waggling bodies thrust his way and he struggled against the onslaught, shrieking when his foot caught on a cobbled stone and he fell backward. His knife slipped loose as he caught himself on his hands. He watched it fly away between the legs of the Walkers crowding around him. Bouncing onto his feet Dudley ignored his tears, fisting his hands.

"Fine. I'll box you all to death then."

The cracking sound of apperation popped his ears and he felt a hand snag him from behind. Severus' scent of hot spice engulfed him as he was pulled against the tall man, spats of light ignited the tight street. He buried his head into Severus' chest, curling away from the sweet taste of magic, boiling the air, mixing with rotten blood. Finally, the lights stopped flashing, the noise ebbed away, and he sensed Severus' arm slacken as the man pulled away.

"Are you alright," Severus crouched, checking him over, "did they bite you?"

"No," he shuttered out a breath, trying to steady himself against the man, "no, no, I'm okay. I just slipped and lost my knife. Blaise is going to be so angry at me. He's tried so hard to teach me…"

"Unlikely. He will be proud you kept your composure."

Severus coiled his wand. "Accio, Dudley's blade."

His knife gently drifted out from under a twitching Walker and into Severus' free hand. The professor handed it to him. Dudley smiled, gripping the hilt.

"Thanks, sir."

"Come along, Ley. Your mother will be worried."

Carefully they stepped through the mass of mangled bodies. Dudley repressed his shutter, glad that the professor had never had the means to let lose his magic on actual alive people.

They dashed down, through the tight, winding streets, out into a larger alley. Dudley breathed easier. The rain had grown heavier, but at least it was washing away the blood on his jacket. He spotted Charlie leaping down from the roof of a building, followed by his mother. He wished he could have laughed at the sight his mother made, but laughter was just so difficult to manage these days.

Still, he wondered why they had ended up on the roof. Then again, Charlie did have a habit of finding high spots to get away from Walkers, being a Dragon handler and all that.

"Mum." Dudley dashed for her, wrapping his arms around her in a hug.

She sobbed softly into his hair.

"Are you bitten?"

"No." He pulled away. "It's just Walker blood, nothing serious."

By the look Charlie gave him, he knew his dismissal of the situation was hardly helping. He tried to jostle out of his mother's grip and she finally released him.

"Well, that apperation point is compromised." Charlie scratched his neck. "What do we do now? That was the last one in this area."

"We're just going to have to risk the Ministry learning we've been out here." Severus murmured, his hand rubbing his arm. "I've apperated anyway to reach Dudley. We're compromised as it is."

Charlie ticked his tongue. "Damn."

"Do you honestly think we're in that much danger?" Petunia whispered.

Severus urged them further down the street, away from a Walker ambling out of a house. "We have no idea who is for us, or against us at the moment. We must protect ourselves. That is all that matters. Charlie, take Petunia. I'll follow with Dudley."

Charlie offered his hand to Petunia. She took it. She glanced back at Severus with a small smile that vanished, replaced with a scream.

"Severus! Watch out!"

Severus twisted about at the voice shouted out down the path. Dudley caught the brief look of horror on Charlie's face just before he vanished in a swell of his disapperation. His shoulder was seized and he was yanked alongside Severus, through the swirling pull of the magical transportation. They both came out the other side in a stagger, nowhere near Hogwarts front gate. Severus threw him to one side and Dudley skidded through mud and grass, obeying the unspoken order to run as another wizard appeared with a crack.

Merlin. Dudley choked. It was Lucius Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy had found them. Enraged eyes behind a veil of white hair locked on him. The first spell sent his way was blasted back by the ward stemming from the protective amulet he wore. The second bounced off a shield Severus threw up over him, the third he had to dodge himself, rolling across the grass. He cursed as he hit a tree root. It was moments just like these when he wished, he really, really wished he was born a wizard.

Severus' cloak swept about him as the man blocked another flung curse. Dudley watched Lucius stagger back at the force.

Heaving onto his feet, Dudley clung to Severus' belt.

"He tracked us?" he whispered.

"It is likely apperating to save you triggered my Dark Mark, he could have simply been in the same area and sensed it."

"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It would eventually have transpired."

"Severus! The Dark Lord will come for you!"

"Then why isn't he here, Lucius." Severus barked back. "Is he cowering from the undead because he fears death—"

"It is you who cowers in your precious castle."

Dudley cringed back against Severus as another splattering of curses and jinx's scattered the ground around them. He felt the potions master grip him tighter in a shielding grasp, his body a shield against the raging magic.

"I think your lord is dead," Severus flicked his wand, red light shattered the soil between the two wizards, "and you are a coward who killed his own wife!"

The scream of rage came with a blast that rocked them both back. Dudley trundled across the mud, his back-pack catching his fall. Blood leaked from cuts over his shoulders. He staggered on his feet, wiping off mud from his face, blinking at the dashes of light from the wand battle still raging.

Severus had taken the full force of the spell, and it was obvious, he was bent over, his robes sliced, blood oozing from wounds but still he stood, like a rook on a chessboard, unmoving and proud. Dudley scrambled for his back-pack. Severus was not going to last long—not now. The cold, bare skin of his trembling hands encountered the bandaged surface of the precious package and a jolt passed through him. His eyes widened. Magic.

Severus' wand spat out curses in swift succession. Dudley shielded his eyes from the bursts of light, catching the ward the wizard blocking their path had erected.

"Lucius, back down, now!" Severus shouted. "Don't make me kill you."

"You will die here, traitor!" Lucius' laugh was manic.

Tugging out the package from his back-pack, Dudley peeled away the bandages covering it and gripped its hilt. Whatever it was that urged him to run forward, it was not his own courage, it had to be something that possessed him—surely—for he would never have dashed into the heat of a wizard battle toward a wizard as dangerous as Lucius Malfoy. Harry would have screamed holy-hell at him for hours for the stupidity.

But he did, and the shock on Lucius Malfoy's face was almost worth it as he landed squarely at the man's feet and drove the blade he held into the soft soil.

Light burst forth, surging from the blade, shattering the earth under the Death Eaters feet and igniting in a bright burn. Dudley watched in horror as the man began to disperse, like the light was shattering him into pieces. It took barely moments, and suddenly it was over. He was lying in the mud, trembling in horror.

Had he just killed Lucius Malfoy?

Tugging the blade free with a slurp Dudley crawled onto his knees and started at the weapon in his trembling hands, watching as filaments of glittering light leaking from the rivets in the metal gradually faded away. Mud that still clung to it cracked off, breaking into the air to drift away in the chilled breeze of the morning.

"Wh…what…what did I do?"

Severus' fingers dug into the muddy soil, he slid back in pain, a hiss escaping his lips as blood slopped free of the slice marring his chest. With a grunt he heaved himself onto his feet, clutching at his side, eyes upon the smoking ring in scarred into the grass and mud.

"I believe you just sent Mr. Malfoy to some unknown region upon Earth."

"Wh…what?" Dudley almost dropped the blade.

"The Potter's Family magic's were in portkey's and apperation. That blade you hold would, perhaps be called a Dark Artefact, due to its ability to act as a borderless, limitless portkey. One need only key in the wizard they desire to locate, or the destination."

Dudley stared down at the blade in growing horror. "Oh my gosh." No wonder it had been locked away in the Potter vault. "It's an assassin's blade. The Potter's…they're…they're assassins! Harry's an assassin! Shit! Shit! Shit! Harry's an assassin. No wonder Dumbledore wanted him to kill Voldemort. Shit. Shit."

"Ley! Language, please."

"Sorry, sorry!"

"But yes, you are correct. The Potter's were once a family of assassins. For Merlins sake, don't tell anyone I told you. Dumbledore would kill me. I only know because of Lily." Severus collapsed against a tree, pulling his hand back from his wound. The blood only seemed to get worse. Dudley ran for his pack, gathering it up and pulling it open, searching for his medical kit.

"But I didn't key in a location."

"Indeed." Severus swayed on his feet. Dudley caught him, staggering under the weight on the professor. "There is no telling where Mr. Malfoy ended up."

"I didn't mean too!"

"It's fine, Ley." Severus removed his shirt with a single, painful tug and Dudley slapped a patch on the bleeding slice clean through his pale skin, ignoring the shout of pain from the man. He began strapping with the bandage.

"Can I use it to get us back to Hogwarts? Madam Pomfrey is going to have a field day with you." Dudley pulled away, admiring his work. He was getting pretty good at quick first-aid. "Mum has all your potions."

Severus shook his head. "I do not want Dumbledore knowing we found it yet, keep it on you. Take my hand, I think I can get us outside the gates."

"Okay." Stashing the Potter-Blade back into his pack, Dudley swung it over his shoulder, seizing Severus' bloodied hand. He waited for the crack of disapperation, it seized his stomach in a lurch, pulling him through a tiny pinhole before he landed with a stagger outside the gates of Hogwarts. Relieved shouts echoed in his ears and he turned, watching Bill and Charlie race down the path toward them.

"Bill! Charlie!" He waved, bouncing on his heels.

"Thank the Lady!" Charlie skidded in the mud, panting heavily. "What happened?! One minute everything was fine, the next you guys didn't follow us! Your mother is frantic."

Dudley relaxed as Bill heaved Severus onto his shoulder, letting the man collapse against him, taking his full weight.

"We got caught by Lucius Malfoy," Dudley waved his bloodied arms about, "Severus chased him off though. He got in a few shots, we have to get Severus to Madam Pomfrey."

"That's a given." Bill shook his head. "You okay, Professor?"

"I will be." Severus grumbled.

"The package, is it safe?" Charlie whispered.

Dudley glanced down the path toward Hogwarts, noticing his mother and Dumbledore were heading towards them, followed closely by Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall. Looking between Bill and Charlie he nodded quickly, not daring to use his voice less it was carried the distance. As a Muggle, he had so little protection against the great Headmaster, but that was why Severus trusted him—because Dumbledore would never suspect a Muggle like him would ever know so much about magic. The headmaster had been so baffled when Piers and his mother had landed in his office that fateful day, according to Piers he had never seen anything so hilarious as the old man's confounded expression upon seeing Petunia Dursley in his office.

Dudley squared his shoulders against the weight of the Potter-Blade in his back-pack. It was his honor, as Harry's cousin, to bear the burden of such an artefact.

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Some folk might wonder about House Elves, other magical creatures etc. etc. – hopefully that will be explained in coming chapters. ^^

My next upload may come a little late as I am going away without internet to do a half-marathon that I've been training almost all year for. It's going to be incredibly painful, but I've wanted to prove to myself that despite my illness I can achieve something I've dreamed of achieving. :D

So yeah. Maybe mid-next week and not on the weekend.

Hope you're all keeping well,

Cheers,

KL