Chapter 1

It seems like all I've ever know is war. Which is pretty much true. I mean there isn't much that I remember from before the war. It started when I was 10; the muggles found out about magic on a global scale. Honestly? I couldn't even tell you the catalyst for the big reveal- and if you had asked any witch or wizard, you would've gotten a mixed variety of answers from dragons attacking muggle cities, to dementor mutinies or house elf rebellions.

I suppose in the end it doesn't really matter. The wizards fuckedup big time. Someone had the bright idea to curse muggles, with what I have no idea, and the global magical communities jumped on the: 'Destroy all muggles once and for all' bandwagon.

I guess they forgot one major thing: magicals are just like muggles. Everyone has inherent magic in them and the only thing that splits us apart is our ability to connect with and use our magic.

So yeah, major fuck up. Because this wonderful, muggle ending solution? Killed at the magicals too. Well, maybe not all of them. I survived after all. And I'm certain there are other communities, however small they may be, that have managed to remain strong as well. I mean not all the muggles died so, there must be some type of hope for my people. Right?

Anyway, it's been about 6 months since I've seen another living person. I've got a very loose plan mapped out: get to Ilvermorny in New York City, in one piece, and pray that someone, hopefully many someone's, are there to let me in.

Truth is, I just can't stay holed up in my parents' house for much longer. It may be in the middle of suburban Georgia, but more and more biters are showing up and I'm running a low on supplies.

Now I know what you're thinking: Indy, aren't you a witch? Can't you just magic yourself up some food and water and call it a day? And the answer is no- at least on the food front. 'Aquamenti' is a dead useful charm after all; especially since the waters been cut for ages.

Actually though? Im the daughter of a half-blood and a muggle. My maternal grandfather taught me many things, but my father was a very strict and religious man. He hated the fact that I wasn't "normal", and severely restricted the time I got to spend with my magical grandfather. When I got my acceptance letter to Ilvermorny at age 11, he almost refused to let me go. It was my mother who got him on the out of sight, out of mind train for him to reluctantly agree.

As the years passed and the war ramped up, my father became more strict and less tolerating of my magic. The fact that he died when I was 15, because of the muggle government bombing what they thought was a magically populated area to me is the peak of irony. To say we didn't see eye to eye is the understatement of the century.

Now it's just me, and my trusty companion Rhodey. He's a German Shepherd, and he's loyal as hell. Doesn't hurt that he's taller than me standing up, either.

My mother was caught up in the beginning of this mess and was one of the firsts to be turned. Which left me, as my grandpa had died 2 years ago, on the eve of my 18th birthday, and my father 3 years before that. So, for the past 6 months, all I've been doing is training.

My grandpa taught me everything he knew, and I knew it was because he didn't have much time left. He was pushing 218 when he finally passed, secure in the knowledge that I could make it in this new world, where the dead roamed free.

But as I've said before, that was 6 months ago. I'm on my last few days of food and to be honest, I can't stand the loneliness anymore. So Rhodey and I are setting out. I'm not stupid by any means (passed my NEWTs with all O's, thankyouverymuch). I know I'm taking a big risk by leaving the house I grew up in, but what's life in the apocalypse without a little risk?