Author's Note

Round 4 - Apocalypse

Position: Seeker

Harry doesn't go back in Deathly Hallows, he didn't see Dumbledore. Instead, he saw Death. Quite literally.

A young man with jet black hair and round glasses who had just escaped death walked up to the strange creature that was hidden under a bench. It was a place in which he could only see white, not knowing what to make of it. As he saw the blood, he thought perhaps he could help it. However, it was like someone had read his mind, as he heard a voice that made his whole body shiver.

"You can't help it," someone said, a voice he failed to recognise. Harry Potter spun round, looking at a figure, a person dressed in all black with confusion. The stranger was wearing a cloaked hood covering his face, making it impossible to see any features.

Everything was so confusing. Harry didn't know where he was, he didn't know why he could only see white. Was this some strange version of heaven? He didn't know. He felt oddly light, as if he was floating, yet his feet were planted securely onto the equally as white floor. Harry didn't like not knowing and not knowing who or what that figure was really wasn't helping. He glanced back at the creature.

"Is it in pain?" he asked, concerned as he looked back at the faceless figure, who laughed coldly.

"As it should be. Now, Dumbledore tried to intervene, get through and manipulate your choices. As Death, I couldn't let that happen," the figure explained and Harry froze at the mention of his previous headmaster.

What did the figure mean, try and intervene? He didn't understand. Harry furrowed his eyebrows, closing his eyes as he tried to understand what was happening here. After a moment or two, he opened his eyes again, taking a better look at where he was. There were many benches on either side of a platform. He blinked, finally recognising where he was.

"Are we in Kings Cross station?" he asked and the figure moved closer to Harry, flying towards him like a Dementor would. He paled drastically at the thought alone and Harry found he couldn't move.

"You might never know where we truly are. Now, technically, you're not dead," the cloaked figure told him calmly and before Harry could really register what was being said, the figure spoke again, "Now, you can go back and be a slave, finish their war. Or, you can go somewhere else. Somewhere more exciting and better for who you really are and want to be."

Harry narrowed his eyes, he still hadn't fully wrapped his head around the whole 'Dumbledore' comment. He was supposed to have spoken to him, but why couldn't the headmaster get through? This cloaked figure… who did they think they were telling him what he could or couldn't do? He had had that his whole life! It was then that Harry realised what the figure had told him.

"Hang on, Death?" Harry asked, shocked. He was talking to Death. That wasn't possible. It just wasn't. He was quite clearly imagining this.

"Yes, that's me. How can I help?" Harry knew that "Death" was faking the kindness in their voice and the slightly mocking undertone really did nothing to help calm him down.

"Where else would I go?" he asked, deciding to ignore Death's reply. A dark chuckle escaped the cloaked figure - Death, he presumed - sending shivers down Harry's spine. He didn't trust this Death person one bit, but what else could he do? He didn't know what was going on and he certainly didn't think he could just go back to life in his world, even if he knew how to do that in the first place. They all thought he was dead, so what was the point? He'd done all that he could have, he gave all he had - he gave his life. He couldn't do more. He couldn't give more, as he didn't have anything left to give, to sacrifice.

But… Ginny.

Hermione.

Ron.

Could he really just leave his friends? No. He shook his head. No, he was the 'Chosen One' after all, he couldn't abandon them, just hand them over to Voldemort. That wasn't what he stood for. But...

"Another universe, one that needs a hero," Death said vaguely and Harry raised an eyebrow, clearing his thoughts.

Everything Death had said sounded… tempting. It was so tempting!

"You're being vague about this; how can I trust you?"

Death laughed harder, causing Harry to shiver once more. One thing he knew for certain was that he didn't like Death. Was that what the Deathly Hallows were all about? Is this the same figure from those stories? Harry tried to clear his mind as Death spoke once more.

"How could you trust Hagrid? How could you trust anything Dumbledore told you? You wait till now to question trust when you've been trusting blindly since the moment you entered the wizarding world?" Death questioned and Harry was stuck, not knowing what to think. He couldn't… he couldn't let this figure question his whole life just like that, put it all into perspective in a way that he himself had never dared to do before. Then again, Harry's frown deepened. The figure had made a point. It did make sense...

"Okay," Harry started but before he could even finish, he heard Death's manic laughter and everything went blank.

After what felt like seconds, Harry jolted awake and looked around. He didn't know where he was. He was surrounded by complete darkness. It could be nighttime and as he looked up at the sky, he saw the moon shining brightly. It was a full moon, covered with dark red undertones. In the distance, he heard a strange, strangled-like roar.

Harry got up cautiously, almost drunkenly stumbling to the side before he started to run. His heavy footsteps echoed through the abandoned street he'd found himself in. His sides were aching, pinching painfully from his speed as he stopped at a bench, leaning against it heavily, gasping for air. He grabbed a newspaper that lay discarded on the bench, probably having been left behind by someone. He didn't trust the silence and he didn't trust the lack of people. What had happened here?

He looked at the newspaper in his hands and they started to shake.

November, 25 2025

They will get you, hide before they do.

That was the headline. Harry looked around, eyes shining with fear.

When Death had said this world needed a hero, this wasn't what Harry had had in mind.

He heard another roar and he started to run once more, chucking the newspaper back in the direction of the bench. His heart was beating heavily. He wanted to make as little noise as possible, but the echoes of his feet hitting the ground were betraying him. He was going to be found. He knew it. He had no idea what he was running from, but he couldn't stay in one place for too long. It didn't feel safe. Nothing felt safe in this place! What hope was there to be, to save this world when he could die before he could help anyone?

There was a ghastly sound and smell, this time coming from behind him. Harry couldn't help but freeze. He turned around slowly and he covered his mouth just in time to muffle a scream. The creature was like the inferi he'd seen with Dumbledore, only… something was different. Both the creature in question and Harry looked at each other, before it made the first move, letting out an inhumane groan. It was only then that Harry remembered what the Muggles called these creatures. His brain screamed at him that it couldn't be. But then, why are there no people? Not a sound in the world.

Harry ran as fast as he could. He didn't know whether it would be enough. He didn't see the other creatures surrounding him, waiting, lurking, but he could feel their eyes on him as he ran. And ran. And ran. Never stopping.

He didn't have his wand on him, he didn't have his friends, he had nothing. He was alone.

Zombies existed in this world.

He was doomed.