Author's Note: Apologies for the late update! I have some personal stuff going on so this story has had to take a back seat priority-wise. Hopefully this being a somewhat longer chapter makes up for it a little. I'd also like to clarify that I do have much of this story outlined already, so this isn't going to be something that falls flat after a few chapters because I didn't plan it out beyond the basic plotline. If there are delays in updates, it's because of life, not because the story isn't going anywhere.

Expect the next couple chapters after this one to pick up significantly in action/excitement!

Daryl returned from his hunt more empty-handed than he'd have liked. He had a few rabbits, but the doe that had been in his sights had evaded him. He'd been too distracted, wondering why no one else seemed to think the wands were as weird as he did. Sure, Rick and the others had thought they were strange and had no explanations for them, but they had dismissed them as harmless. Hershel had suggested there was probably some kind of sentimental value to them. They were souvenirs from some kind of sci-fi attraction, or they were crafts that had been made by Harry and one of his deceased parents. Daryl could only scoff. Why did no one want to delve more deeply into what he had actually seen?

Because you've gone Looney Tunes and they don't want you to feel bad about it.

It was these thoughts that had sent Daryl into a spacey state as he'd crouched quietly in the brush, waiting for the right moment to strike his prey. He'd forgotten what he was doing there until, belatedly, he'd realized the doe was leaving the area, and he'd taken a harried shot at her that sent her galloping.

He went straight to work skinning the rabbits at a table outside, not even needing to glance up when Carol came over and sat across from him. She didn't say anything just yet, but grabbed a rabbit and got to work helping him.

Before Daryl had left, he'd pulled Carol aside and asked her to keep an eye on Sirius and Harry, at which point she'd admitted on already planning to do so. She had told him she agreed there was definitely something suspicious about them, though she didn't think it was anything along the lines of magic tricks.

"Hershel and I gave Harry our permission to keep the dog as long his godfather was okay with it," Carol finally said. "But no one's seen the dog since this morning, around when you left." Daryl looked up with an arched brow. "Harry said it took off."

Daryl clenched his teeth for a moment and rotated the rabbit he was working on. "I didn't see it while I was out. No prints either."

Carol nodded slowly. "That was the only really strange thing I noticed. They went on fence duty for most of the day."

"That guy did fence duty with his busted hand?"

"Yep."

Daryl grunted, impressed against his will.

"He seemed tired afterward, but they were both pretty upbeat when they came back to the cell block," Carol continued. "Seems like they haven't had the chance to let their guard down and have a laugh for a while."

Daryl set down his knife and leaned backward, holding the edge of the table with both hands and drumming his fingers for a second. "You taking a shine to them then?"

Carol exhaled through her nose and smiled with fond exasperation. "Not yet, Pooky."

Daryl felt the corner of his mouth twitch. He held Carol's gaze a few more seconds and then returned to the rabbits, feeling oddly soothed.

After finishing their shift at fence duty, Harry found himself much more at ease than he had been in the last forty-eight hours. Killing the walkers had been a strange experience…not one he'd say he exactly enjoyed, but he was aware of his stress subsiding with each corpse he took down. The violence of driving his pike into their skulls disgusted him. For his first few kills, the sound of his weapon squelching through everything made him grimace, while the sight of the blood and matter sticking to the pike churned his stomach. The process felt strangely cathartic, though. He figured it must be because it was the first time he was able to take action and be in control since being in the Department of Mysteries.

What he'd truly enjoyed was getting some one-on-one time with Sirius to just talk and laugh. At Grimmauld Place, there was almost always someone else around. That, and both he and Sirius had alternated turns being in foul moods spent brooding alone over the last year. As anxious as he was to get back to their own world, Harry finally felt able to accept their present predicament without dwelling on what he couldn't change.

They had just returned inside for water when Daryl approached and Harry's brain immediately reverted back to its worried state, bringing all information necessary for maintaining their cover to the forefront.

"Where's your dog?" said Daryl.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Well hello to you too."

"You not ask him yet?"

"I did," Harry said. "Padfoot took off, though. I haven't seen him since this morning."

"You already named him?" Sirius sighed.

"Course I did. Was I supposed to just call him 'Dog' the whole time?"

"What's wrong with calling a dog 'Dog?'" Daryl interjected. "They're good animals. Ain't like it's an insult."

"They're great animals and man's best friend, so of course they deserve a name," said Sirius. "I just didn't want Harry getting attached so soon in light of the circumstances."

Daryl stared at Sirius for a moment before looking back at Harry. "Which way did the dog go? I thought you were planning on keeping it within the fences."

"That way." Harry made sure to point far off from where he'd seen Daryl enter the woods. "I figured it could use more space to run and would know to stick around."

Daryl nodded slowly, scrutinizing Harry in a way that made him grateful he couldn't be a Legilimens. "I'll keep an eye out for him next time I'm out. Too bad he's not here now, though. Thought he'd like these to chew on and play fetch with." He removed the wands from his pocket and held them up, clearly making sure they were visible but out of reach. His eyes moved from Harry to Sirius and back, and Harry did his best to keep his expression neutral. "Guess I'll just add them to our stock of firewood instead."

Sirius made a movement like he was about to step forward, but didn't. For a moment, Harry thought his godfather might throw caution to the winds and tackle Daryl for the wands. Instead, Sirius made a show of casually stretching his arms and back, closing his eyes and groaning in relief. "You can never have too much firewood. Harry and I could go collect more if you'd like. Whatever we can do to contribute."

"Nah, y'all have already done enough today. Don't want you overdoing it, especially with your hurt hand. Carol was just about to start a fire to make everyone dinner, though, so I think I'll go give her a little extra fuel."

Daryl wagged the wands in the air and pocketed them. He turned to walk away and Sirius grabbed his arm with his good hand.

"Sirius…" Harry said, his heart thumping hard.

Daryl looked from Sirius' hand to his face, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Best let go unless you want to lose use of both hands."

"You can't burn those," Sirius growled, a hint of desperation in his voice that Harry wasn't sure Daryl could detect. "They're not what you think they are, but they're important to Harry and I."

Daryl yanked his arm free and stepped closer to Sirius, their faces inches from each other. "And what do I think they are?"

Sirius didn't back down, his own eyes blazing, but Harry could still sense the hesitation he had before actually speaking. "You think we'll use them to kill you or your people."

"Y'all are the ones that pointed them at me!" Daryl snarled, his volume increasing.

"Because we had no real weapons!" hissed Sirius. "They were our only way to seem intimidating when we thought you were going to kill us!"

"I saw you shoot fire from them!"

"We did not shoot fire, you nutter! You imagined it!" Sirius tapped the side of his own head with his finger.

"Sirius—" Harry tried to pull Sirius' arm but he yanked it away.

"Right now I'm imagining my fist knocking against your thick skull," growled Daryl, somehow closing even more distance between himself and Sirius.

"Daryl, Daryl, Daryl, Daryl…" Glenn came jogging over and started steering a balking Daryl away from Sirius, while Harry used all his strength to drag Sirius backwards. A couple of people had come peering from their cells to see what the raised voices were all about. "You need to cool it, man!"

Daryl yanked himself from Glenn's grip, staring daggers over his shoulder at Sirius before looking at Glenn. "Whose damn side you on?"

Glenn exhaled a deep breath from his nose. "Yours. And theirs. It's the same side. Get that through your head and chill out."

Daryl leaned closer to his friend, pointing his finger at Sirius, who stood there with his arms crossed and chin tilted up slightly. "This asshole's been here a day and already has you convinced I'm some kind of delusional head case. We are not on the same side."

"Dar—"

He stalked off. Glenn held his arms up in a shrug for a moment before dropping them with an exasperated sigh. He waved at the onlookers to return to their cells with a shooing gesture before he turned to face Harry and Sirius, looking between them with a genuine concern and confusion that made Harry feel guilty.

He knew it was important to keep their identity as wizards a secret, but he also knew, probably better than almost anyone here, what it felt like to be discredited. After having Umbridge, Fudge, and the Ministry spend the last year of Harry's life telling everyone he knew that he was lying about Cedric Diggory's murder, he didn't blame Daryl for blowing up and trying to get to the bottom of what he'd seen.

Sirius exhaled through his nose and shook his head. "I'm sorry, mate. I shouldn't have pushed his buttons like that." Harry stared at his godfather pointedly. "We really don't mean to cause trouble. It's been a trying few days."

"I just don't get what he thinks he saw," Glenn replied. "You've gotta understand…Daryl was—well…" Glenn glanced around, apparently checking that his friend wasn't within earshot. "He was straight up intolerable when we first met him a couple years ago. But things changed. He calmed down a lot, became more cooperative. He kind of went from being a liability to a leader. And he can still be a little hotheaded from time to time, but he's usually in a lot more control than this. So what am I missing?"

Glenn put his hands on his hips, glancing from Sirius to Harry. It wasn't exactly an accusatory stare. Rather, Harry got the impression that Glenn was genuinely trying to understand the situation without placing blame.

Harry opened and closed his mouth. He looked at Sirius, raising his eyebrows at him in a way that he hoped expressed his irritation. After all, Sirius had escalated the situation by being antagonistic. He should be the one to come up with a plausible explanation. Sirius pursed his lips in what Harry understood to be an annoyed acknowledgement that he was in the wrong.

Pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes, Sirius sighed before saying, "I did some time in prison. I…had a drug problem back in my twenties and it got me in trouble. Prison got me clean. Part of the program I was doing involved selecting a form of…art therapy. I chose wood carving. The sticks that Daryl took from us are projects I made in prison for Harry's parents, who were the only people keeping in contact with me. I started off trying to make wooden swords, but was told it was prohibited, as they were weapons—even though they were fake weapons—and they discouraged us from anything promoting violence. One of the program workers did magic shows for kids part-time and suggested turning the swords into wands. Harry here was just a little tyke at the time, so his parents loved the idea of being able to pretend to do magic for him and they…they came to cherish them over the years."

"And they brought them with them for a vacation to the U.S.?"

"To have them autographed. The famous magician, Teller—"

"Like Penn and Teller? I used to love watching them!" Glenn grinned.

"Yes, so did James," Sirius smiled fondly. "Well, Teller was born in Pennsylvania, and our friends heard he was supposed to be in town visiting family during the time we were to visit, so James hoped he'd have a chance to meet him and get the wands autographed. Our friend got the days wrong, though, so it didn't happen. And now…now, the stupid sticks are all we have to remind us of James and Lily."

Harry stood there, blinking, trying to look as if this all made sense to him while wondering how the hell Sirius had come up with it. Glenn was standing there nodding slowly at the floor, solemn and thoughtful, while Harry tried to imagine how his parents would react to hearing such a convoluted story from their best friend. He had a feeling his mother would be incredulous and his father hysterical with laughter.

"We've been without any real weapons for two weeks," Sirius continued. "I had one last match left from our pack and, being desperate, lit a stick from the woods and flung it at the walker in the hopes of lighting it up and at least slowing it down. Then we saw Daryl and pointed the wands at him because they were all we had. It was either hope he was easily intimidated or be completely at his mercy…and being at other people's mercy hasn't exactly turned out well for us before."

Glenn nodded some more, brow furrowed. "I understand. I'll try to talk to Daryl, make him see straight. Thank you for telling me your story. I know it's not always easy these days to let everyone know your business, but it can really help clear up misunderstandings. Please just…know that Daryl's heart is in the right place. He lost his brother a couple months ago, and that's been hard on him."

Harry could see Sirius' jaw clench and said, "Don't worry…Sirius knows what that's like. He'll be more understanding."

Sirius wouldn't look at Harry, but nodded. "I'll…play nicer."

"I appreciate that," said Glenn. "All right, I'll try to get those wands back from him for you."

"Thanks, mate."

They stood there while Glenn walked away, both of them sighing in relief.

"Well…that was about the biggest load of dragon dung ever," said Harry.

Sirius gave a quiet laugh beside him. "Not all of it. I did go to prison…and your dad actually was very amused by that Muggle magician."

"What—that Teller bloke? Really?"

"Really. Penn and Teller are—or were; I've no idea if they're alive right now—a famous American Muggle magician duo. They did performances combining comedy with Muggle magic tricks. Your dad discovered them and thought they were fascinating. He especially enjoyed Teller, who was known for miming rather than speaking. James found it ingenious that two Muggles could make such a lucrative living by performing fake magic and jokes. He often said we were wasting our potential in the wizarding world."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at that, soaking in the new bit of knowledge about his dad. Learning things like this about his parents—happy, wholesome things that lived up to the positive portrayal he'd grown accustomed to hearing—always gave him a small surge of delight. He allowed himself to enjoy it for a moment before returning to their present predicament.

"Where'd you come up with the wood carving…art therapy…thing?"

Sirius shrugged. "I've always been interested in Muggle stuff. It was just a combination of things I could think of to somewhat logically string together. I even remember thinking at one point in Azkaban how much nicer it would have been to go to Muggle prison, where, from what I'd read, a lot of them had scheduled activities and prisoners often found new hobbies or even career paths while there." He snorted.

Harry glanced around. No one was paying them attention anymore. The only people around who were not in cells were a little kid who was coloring and his mother who folded clothes on the floor next to him, both some twenty feet away. Still, Harry kept his voice quiet. "I'm not sure you should've said you went to prison."

"It's probably the best thing I could've said. It gives an explanation for being cagey and why I may come across as suspicious, but it wasn't anything too unforgivable or relevant to see me as a threat."

Harry mulled it over, deciding that made sense, but still feeling uneasy. "I just hope Daryl doesn't burn our wands."

"He has no real reason to," Sirius said bracingly. "He wanted to see how we reacted, but I think he's still curious about them."

"I hope you're right. Can you maybe ease up on the crazy talk, though?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean needling Daryl and trying to convince him he's taking the mickey. Look at how people have been talking about you for over a decade. You know how difficult that gets."

"Yeah, and like you said, I've been dealing with it for over a decade," Sirius said through gritted teeth. "I'm sure a bloke like Daryl can handle it for a day or two."

"Please? For me?"

Sirius rolled his eyes and started walking away. "Blimey, Harry, yes, yes, I'll lay off of darling Daryl. For you."

Carl removed his dad's old hat and wiped sweat from his brow as he walked back toward the prison. He had been working in the fields, where Hershel was guiding him in growing tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, squash, and southern peas. Hershel hobbled along behind him. Carl would have slowed his pace for him, but he already knew Hershel was about to head in another direction to look for Maggie.

The heat always left Carl torn between whether to leave his hat on or off. Leaving it off meant he didn't have to bear its weight on his warm head, but having to squint in the sunlight often gave him a headache, so, as always, he put his hat back on. Plus, if he had to be honest with himself, he felt like a part of his identity was missing without it.

Once there wasn't so much sun in his eyes, he caught sight of Daryl and Glenn off in the distance, gathering firewood. It looked as if Glenn was doing a lot of talking and Daryl was trying to ignore him. Carl watched them carry the wood back over to the pavilion where Carol would start preparing dinner. Daryl set his stack down and walked away while Glenn was still talking, hastily dropping his own bundle so that he could hurry after Daryl, who appeared to be heading back into the cell block.

As Daryl made to enter the building, Rick exited. They seemed to have a brief, somewhat awkward exchange where Rick appeared reassuring and Daryl nodded with averted eyes, the latter quickly heading inside. Rick stood there for a moment in apparent contemplation before Glenn reached him. The two of them then walked off together and out of Carl's sight.

Bringing the people from Woodbury to live at the prison with them had originally been foolish to Carl, who had found himself indignant at the prospect of welcoming those who had been under the Governor's leadership to share their community. After a little time, however, Carl had come to accept and even embrace the idea, especially once they began branching out in search of others to bring in and strengthen their numbers. The former Woodbury citizens now in their ranks had proven to be not only well-intended but helpful. They had, Carl now realized, been hoodwinked by the Governor's confidence and charisma, and had seen him as their savior in these perilous times. The other groups and lone travelers that had been found and invited in for sanctuary had also demonstrated themselves as harmless. As far as Carl was concerned, Harry and Sirius were no different, and from what he could discern, Daryl seemed to be the only one finding any discord with them.

He had just decided to go find Harry and try talking to him about the situation to see what he could piece together, but a distant rumbling sound distracted him. He stopped where he was and looked over his shoulder toward the woods as the sound grew gradually louder. Once he recognized what it was, he grinned and hurried over toward the gate.

A beautiful brown horse emerged from the trees and galloped Carl's way, the rider waving at him and flashing her own enthusiastic smile. Carl returned the wave and opened the gate for her before following her into the courtyard. He jogged up to the horse as the rider dismounted.

"I thought you weren't coming back for another couple of weeks," said Carl.

"Oh…" the woman donned an expression of exaggerated surprise. "Oh, you know what? Yeah, you're right. I forgot. I'll just get going." She nodded to herself and lifted her foot as if to climb back on the horse.

Carl rolled his eyes but was still smiling. "Ha, ha, Michonne."

Michonne laughed. "Come here." She pulled Carl into a hug that he gladly returned, closing his eyes for a moment and enjoying the warmth of her embrace.

Michonne had joined their group before it was a community, in the midst of their struggles with the Governor. She had arrived alone, injured, and silent, casting them suspicious glares that Carl, fresh from losing his mother, was particularly keen to return. However, Michonne not only proved to have a common enemy with them in the Governor, but she showed them that she had a heart. She won Carl over after going out of her way to help him retrieve an old photograph of his mother, and he had been fond of her ever since.

If things could turn out well with someone like Michonne, Carl was confident the situation with Daryl, Harry, and Sirius could improve too.

"So…what have I missed?" Michonne asked as she and Carl walked toward the pavilion.

Carl shrugged. "Not too much. Daryl and Glenn brought some new guys in yesterday."

"Do we like 'em?"

"Yeah…well, most of us do…"

"Uh oh." Michonne made a clicking noise with her tongue. They approached Carol, who had her back to them as she gave Patrick food prep instructions. "What's cooking, Carol?"

Carol turned around and her eyes widened in pleasant surprise. "Michonne!" She handed Patrick a plate of tomatoes and came over to hug Michonne. "What are you doing back already?"

"Hit a dead end. Unless the Governor can breathe underwater, there's no way he went the way I was heading. Figured I'd come back, freshen my supplies, and try another route in a few days."

"Well, everyone will be happy to see you. Why don't you go inside and get some rest? Dinner still won't be ready for a couple of hours."

Carl and Michonne strolled back in the direction of the cell block, about to head inside when Michonne stopped. "I almost forgot." She reached into a bag hanging from her shoulder and pulled out a couple of comic books, handing them to Carl.

"I was hoping but I didn't want to ask," he said, beaming. "Thanks!"

"Just don't get me in trouble with your dad by staying up all night reading instead of sleeping."

"Too late," said a voice behind them. Carl and Michonne turned around to see Rick approaching with a smile. "He runs through our battery supply reading by flashlight under the covers." Rick tilted his head forward and raised his eyebrows in a mockingly stern way at Michonne.

She offered an apologetic grimace in return and reached into her bag again, handing a pack of batteries to Rick. "Peace offering?"

Rick laughed and took the batteries from her. "Deal."

The three of them entered the cell block, Carl walking between his dad and Michonne as they made their way over to a table. He sat across from the two of them and watched as Michonne unrolled a map and uncapped a marker. She began to go over routes with Rick while Carl scanned the area. Mrs. Curtis was sorting through piles of laundry over on the floor while her son Justin packed up his crayons. Tyreese was walking back to his cell with a shower caddy and freshly washed hair, while Zach was wandering around like a lost puppy, presumably searching for Beth. Carl rolled his eyes.

Otherwise, there was just a dull murmur of various conversations that were taking place in different cells. Carl wondered if Harry and Sirius were among them.

"It's a solid plan," Rick sighed. "Course, I still think it'd be great if you just stayed here with us."

Michonne stared at Rick wistfully. "I'd love to, but I can't stay here knowing there are still quality clippers out there to fetch for the scraggly mess forming on your face."

Carl laughed while Rick stroked at his beard. "Beards are in right now. Haven't you heard?"

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, I've got one, Daryl's got one, Hershel's got one…"

"Sirius does too," said Carl.

Michonne raised a brow. "Sirius?"

"New guy," Rick nodded. He sighed again. "He came in yesterday with a kid around Carl's age. Daryl shot him in the hand."

"Ahh…" Michonne exchanged a look of understanding with Carl. "Well, if he's still here it must have been some kind of misunderstanding, right?"

"That's what the rest of us think, but Daryl won't let it go. Thinks he saw the guy do some kind of…magic." Rick chuckled humorlessly.

"Magic…Daryl? Our Daryl?"

"Mmmhmm…Glenn just relayed to me that they had these wooden magician wands that belonged to Harry's dead parents. They didn't have any weapons so they pointed the wands at Daryl as a last resort. Now Daryl's convinced the wands are real and refuses to give them back."

Michonne leaned back, took a deep breath, and shook her head as she slowly exhaled, eyes wide as she stared at the table without really seeing it. "You think this is some kind of defensive…coping mechanism…because of Merle?"

"I have no idea. I'd really thought he was doing okay with the Merle stuff. I know it still stings, but I also think he's been at peace not having his brother looming over him anymore."

The two adults lapsed into a troubled silence that made Carl uncomfortable. "Daryl will be okay. He just needs a chance to get to know Sirius, like we had to with you." Carl nodded at Michonne.

"But this guy—Sirius? You guys think he's okay?" Michonne asked.

Carl exchanged looks with his dad and they both nodded. "I think he's cool."

"He seems good to me," Rick agreed. "Glenn did mention that he'd done time, but that it was over a decade ago. For drugs, nothing violent. That might be ringing Daryl's alarm bells."

"Daryl's not a stranger to criminals, though," said Michonne. "And neither are you. You were a cop, and you don't seem to be getting any bad signals."

"I'm grasping at straws, honestly. It's only been a day, but Daryl's response to Sirius is worrying me."

Carl heard footsteps from above and a pair of hushed voices. He put a finger to his lips and whispered, "I think that's them coming down now."

Sirius had a headache. After getting away from Glenn and Daryl, he and Harry had gone upstairs to their cell, where they'd quietly brainstormed ideas for getting their wands back. At this point, Sirius was ready to jump Daryl and wrestle the wands back from him. What did it matter if they violated the Statute of Secrecy when it didn't even seem like there were any other wizards, let alone a magical government, to come after them?

He didn't want to share it with Harry, who he knew was already stressed out and had enough weight on his shoulders, but Sirius had some suspicions about the veil and where it taken them. His gut told him that, firstly, Harry wasn't supposed to have gone through the veil after him, and that by doing so, certain things had been thrown off course. Secondly, he was sure that, even if they could apparate once acquiring their wands, they wouldn't be able to find any of the places they knew as they knew them: no Hogwarts, no Ministry of Magic, no Diagon Alley, no Hogsmeade, and no magical beings besides the walkers. They weren't just in another country; they were in another universe. He didn't know how he knew. He just knew.

Regardless, Sirius was going to try like hell to at least get Harry home. He had to. He was determined and he was clever enough to figure it out somehow. After all, he'd become an unregistered animagus at the age of fifteen. He'd gotten Os on all of his OWLs and NEWTs without doing half the studying his classmates had. He'd become the first person to ever escape Azkaban. He could figure this out too.

But he couldn't do a damn thing without his wand.

So when Sirius mentioned the idea of trying to take their wands back by force and forgetting about whether they were found out or not, he was somewhat disappointed that Harry vigorously shook his head and insisted that wouldn't end well for them.

"Even if you get them from Daryl without getting hurt, the rest of them will come after you, after both of us," Harry had said. "There are too many of them."

"But we'll have our wands at that point and we'll be able to defend ourselves," Sirius had countered. "We'll be able to get away without even having to do any real harm to them. That's the beauty of magic. It gives us options!"

Harry had gone silent, mulling it over, but eventually shaking his head again. "It sounds nice in theory, Sirius, but I don't see it working without someone getting hurt. These are good people. I…I don't want to be ruthless. That's how Voldemort would approach it and I can't afford to be like him…at least, not anymore than I already am."

There had been a bitter note to Harry's last few words, and Sirius knew it wouldn't be right to push him any further on the subject. "All right," he conceded with a sigh. "We need to come up with a different strategy then."

After another ten minutes or so, they'd decided the best time to get their wands without engaging in a fight with Daryl would be when he wasn't dressed, and so they began discussing a plan to steal their wands from Daryl's discarded clothes while he bathed. This meant keeping an eye on Daryl's schedule, determining what time he preferred to shower—assuming he did so at the same time each day instead of just whenever he had free time, which was very possible—and then seeing where he left his clothes and if they could access them without his notice.

"This might be one of the creepiest plans I've ever been involved in," Harry said, massaging his temples.

Sirius shrugged. "I'm still willing to just fight him."

Harry ignored him. "We should also talk about how to handle the walkers once we get our wands back. We know lighting them on fire isn't enough. What spells do you reckon would be best?"

"They need to be hit in the brain. Any kind of blasting hex. Bombarda or Reducto would probably be effective as long as they're strong enough and you focus on the head as your target. You know both of those?"

"Definitely."

"Applying a severing charm to the neck so that the head is disconnected from the torso may also be good. Though you may still need to attack the head afterward, I think it could help in a pinch since a solitary head can't move toward you without limbs or outside momentum."

Harry paled slightly. "What about a stunning spell? Do you think that would work?"

Sirius thought about it for a moment. "I don't think so. The walkers don't seem like beings that can be conscious or unconscious, just dead or alive. It still might be worth a shot if you have the time to try it without the walker reaching you."

"Nah, you're probably right. I was just thinking it might be less…messy."

They'd both gone quiet when they heard voices echoing in the main part of the cell block below. It sounded like Rick and a woman, followed by laughter from Carl. Sirius crept to his feet and stepped just outside of the cell without getting close enough to the edge of the balcony to be seen from below.

He heard Rick's voice say, "Yeah, I've got one, Daryl's got one, Hershel's got one…"

Then he heard Carl say, "Sirius does too."

Sirius pursed his lips and reentered the cell. Harry sat up straighter. "What's up?"

"We're being discussed," Sirius said quietly. "Or at least I am. The burdens of being popular…"

Harry snorted. "Reckon we should go down there?"

Sirius nodded. "I'd rather not give them too much opportunity to talk about us and possibly influence each other to believe we're dastardly sorcerers."

The two of them made their way down the stairs, at which point they heard the voices go quiet. Carl was sitting at the table across from Rick and a woman Sirius had never seen before. He couldn't help slowing his steps as he and Harry approached.

The woman sitting alongside Rick was strikingly beautiful, with smooth black skin and fierce brown eyes. They had locked onto him with an intensity that made Sirius both nervous and excited. Though she was sitting, he could tell that she would be quite tall if she stood, and her frame appeared lean and strong.

Sirius had to mentally shake himself, startled by the response he'd just had to the sight of this woman. He couldn't remember the last time he'd experienced such a reaction.

"How's it going, guys?" Rick asked. "I'd like to introduce you to Michonne. She's been away on an…errand. Michonne, this is Sirius and his godson, Harry."

Michonne stood and smiled politely, holding out her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Pleasure to meet you too, Michonne," said Sirius. "You'll have to excuse me for using my left hand. The right one's out of commission at the moment."

Michonne glanced down and shook his left hand instead. "Ah…Daryl?"

"He wasn't sure what to make of us at first. All a big misunderstanding." Sirius offered her a charming smile before gesturing to Harry. "This is my godson."

"Harry?" asked Michonne, glancing down at his hands before reaching her own hand out for him to shake. "Well at least Daryl is still only attacking adults."

"Nice to meet you," Harry said.

Sirius noticed as Michonne turned away that she had what looked like some sort of weapon strapped along her back. "Are you honestly walking around strapped with a sword? Remind me not to cross you."

Michonne stood next to the table and faced him. She tapped what appeared to be the handle of the weapon. "What, this?"

Without warning, the air whooshed from Sirius' lungs as the tip of a long blade suddenly flashed to his throat, just shy of touching his skin. He held his hands up in surrender and laughed.

Michonne smirked and pulled the blade back toward her, holding it horizontally in front of herself. "It's a katana, actually." She returned it to its sheath and turned to resume her seat. "Consider yourself reminded."

Sirius could feel his lip curl. "Yes, ma'am." His heart hammered in his chest, but not out of fear. Harry whacked his arm while the others weren't looking. Sirius cleared his throat and collected himself. He sat next to Carl and addressed Rick across from him. "Say, mate, what can you tell us about the shower schedules around here?"

Daryl had stopped at his cell, grabbed a notebook and pen, and headed for the halls of the prison they frequently referred to as "the tombs." He had paced through them alone until he managed to burn off the bulk of his agitation. Then, he'd allowed himself to slow down to a wandering gait, at which point he opened his notebook and started reading through the lists of supplies—organized by purpose, necessity, and request—to hopefully be collected on the run taking place the day after tomorrow. Once his mind shifted to a more relaxed, focused state, he leaned against a wall and sat on the floor. He went through each list and wrote down where they were likely to find what items within the vicinity of their trip.

Their main focus point was a Target store. From what they had discerned during previous trips to the area, it had been occupied and boarded up by a small but seemingly well-armed group. Daryl and Glenn had made separate attempts to communicate with the group and invite them to the prison, only to be answered with verbal threats and shots fired through the cracks. They had seemed to just want to be left alone, posing no real threat to those at the prison, so Daryl and the others had simply stayed away from the store. Though, they still looted the neighboring buildings around the shopping center from time to time.

It had become clear during their last three trips to the area that much of the group was gone. Tracks indicated that some had left on foot, while the sight of fresh walkers made it clear that some of the group had been killed. The last time Daryl had been there, with only Sasha as backup, they had found a weak spot in the building's fortification and had done a quick, minimal investigation. As a pair, they had entered through the wreckage of broken glass and boards and called out verbally, carefully hanging back in case they needed to make a quick exit. They had both yelled and heard no response other than distant walker growls. The next portion of their path inside the store was still mostly barricaded by shelves and other large items, but there was enough of a gap that people and walkers alike could enter and exit. They agreed it would be best to come back with a large group to secure and search the building.

Currently, Daryl was sifting through the items that people had personally requested, which included things that served more entertainment or comfort purposes, like puzzle books, dumbbells, nail polish, and stuffed animals. They would be traveling in two vehicles, both of which were fairly spacious but still limited. Daryl went through the personal items and tried to rank them in order of which ones should be prioritized for this trip. For instance, he placed the request for a stuffed animal (preferably a dog or bear) from seven-year-old Molly near the top of this list, as he knew she had nightmares and wanted her to feel safer. Stuffed animals were also light and could be jammed into a bag full of other things pretty easily. On the other hand, while he agreed that staying fit and strong was important in their environment, Daryl put Mark's request for dumbbells lower on the list. Mark knew plenty of bodyweight exercises he could do without equipment and dumbbells were heavy, which could slow them down in a pinch.

As Daryl began debating where to rank Beth's request for lip gloss (trying to ignore the slightly protective part of him that knew she wanted it to get dolled up for Zach), he heard footsteps coming his way. Groaning, expecting it to be Glenn or Rick attempting to talk to him, Daryl kept his eyes on his notebook. He heard the footsteps come to a stop just off to his left as the person stood over him.

Daryl sighed. "I'm not in the mood, man."

"Fine, I'll just come back next month."

Daryl looked up at the unexpected sound of Michonne's voice. There she stood, arms casually crossed over her chest. Her eyes looked at him with slight scrutiny but the corner of her mouth was turned upward in a playful smirk. Daryl set down his notebook.

"When did you get back?"

"Not quite an hour ago." Michonne stepped closer and sat down next to him. "My route fell flat. Gonna try a different direction soon. What you working on?"

"Leading a supply run in a couple days. You in? We could use you."

"Meh…" Michonne scrunched up her face and shrugged. Then she looked sideways at him and laughed upon catching his gaze. "Of course I'm in. Sounds like fun."

Daryl rolled his eyes playfully. "Ain't supposed to be fun."

"What sounds like fun to you then, hotshot? Maiming people?"

Daryl exhaled deeply through his nose. "You heard then?"

"Heard and saw."

"Thought he was about to attack me."

Michonne raised her eyebrows at him, her brown eyes all too knowing. "Empty handed?"

Daryl hesitated, looking down at his notebook and biting at his thumbnail before looking back at her. "You here to tell me I'm crazy too?"

"Daryl…" Michonne put a hand on his shoulder. "I hate to break it to you, but you've always been crazy. So if that's news to you, then please take me to whatever rock you've been living under, because it sounds damn cozy."

Daryl couldn't help chuckling. Then he leaned his head back against the wall and sighed. "I really thought I saw something. I didn't want to see something."

"I know," Michonne replied softly. "There have been times I swore I saw things too. I think…our minds play tricks on us when…when they start to get tired from being under threat all the time."

Daryl grumbled, his fingers drumming against his vest, under which were the sticks of wood, which Glenn had recently confirmed to him as wands. He'd relayed the story Sirius had told him. It had sounded like bullshit to Daryl, but he was starting to wonder what he really thought would be an acceptable explanation for him at this point. Why couldn't the wands be sentimental belongings of Harry's deceased parents, the only friends Sirius still had while in prison? Why wouldn't Sirius and Harry cling to such things in desperation when otherwise weaponless and faced with danger? After all, people had done stranger things since the walkers came around.

He had conceded not to destroy the wands, for if they were what Sirius said they were, Daryl would be cruel to do so, but he still wasn't ready to return them. He would stick to his plan of trying to find a book on the supply run and see if he could garner any useful information.

Michonne stood, offering him a gentle smile. "I don't think there's anything wrong with you, Daryl."

Daryl returned to his lists, carefully arranging his face into an indifferent scowl as he kept his eyes on the paper. "Wasn't asking."

But he knew—and he suspected Michonne knew—he was glad she said so anyway.

Dinner passed by peacefully enough, Harry and Sirius sitting with Glenn, Maggie, and Carl, while Rick hung back inside to deal with a fussy Judith. Daryl, Carol, and Michonne had sat at a table nearby, where Daryl had remained focused on his food as Carol and Michonne caught up on conversation. Harry had been sneaking covert glances Daryl's way in an attempt to ascertain the fate of their wands until Glenn caught his attention.

"They're safe," Glenn smiled. "I made him promise not to do anything to them. It's the best I can do for now."

"Thanks," Harry said.

"This is ridiculous," said Maggie, casting her own stern glance Daryl's way. "He's acting like a child. I'll make him give their wands back."

Maggie actually started to stand but Glenn tugged her back down. "Maggie, leave it. I really think Daryl's going through something right now. Just let him chill out for a bit." He looked back at Harry and Sirius. "You guys don't mind waiting another day or two, do you?"

Harry clenched his teeth, but refrained from objecting. "Course not."

"Whatever makes the bloke feel more at ease with us, honestly," said Sirius. Harry noticed that Sirius was also casting furtive glances toward Daryl's table, but he didn't seem to be looking at Daryl.

After dinner, Carl showed Harry how to play a couple of Muggle American card games while Hershel tended to Sirius' hand. Harry had enjoyed focusing on something inconsequential for a little while, and Carl had a calming presence that reminded him of Ron in a bittersweet way.

"Nice, you got me that round," Carl had said after Harry showed him his hand. He took Harry's cards and combined them with his, shuffling them all. "So what kind of stuff did you like to do before…you know…"

"Well…" Harry thought carefully, making sure he didn't begin to list hobbies from the wizarding world like Quidditch or Exploding Snap. "I liked riding…mopeds. That was always fun. Going fast and feeling like I was flying. I definitely miss that."

"That's cool. I've never been on one. My mom never would have let me, at least not until I was way older."

"Was she strict, your mum?"

Carl looked thoughtful as he dealt their cards. "Not exactly. Just…protective. Sometimes I think of all the times I got annoyed with her for not letting me do the things I wanted to do and I feel bad. She was just trying to keep me safe. I wish I could apologize to her for it."

"I…I think that's normal for kids to be that way with their mums." Harry thought of all the times Ron and his siblings expressed frustration with their mother. He himself had even felt such irritation when Molly fought against him having information about the Order. "I'm sure she didn't mind."

Carl didn't say anything for a moment, only smiling halfheartedly. "Was your mom protective like that?"

Again, Harry chose his words. He reminded himself that Carl was of the understanding that Harry's parents had passed in the last couple of years. He didn't realize Harry had been an orphan since infancy and that Harry had never been old enough to share conversations with his parents. He swallowed a mild lump in his throat. "She was protective, yeah. She…she gave her life for me."

Carl nodded, showing more interest in the cards in his hand than he had their previous rounds of play. Harry appreciated it. "That's the only reason Judith is even here. My mom gave her life to give birth to her, knowing she wouldn't make it. And then I…I put her down myself…after." Carl cleared his throat, choosing a card and setting it down. "It was the only thing I could do to repay her."

Harry felt like a rock had just dropped into his stomach. If he thought hearing his mother plead with Voldemort when Dementors were near was horrible, he couldn't imagine what it would be like to remember shooting her in the head. He set down his own card. "That must have been awful."

Carl nodded again before glancing uncomfortably at Harry over his hand. "Did you…I mean…how did you keep your mom from turning when she died?"

Harry scrambled for an appropriate answer, hating himself for having to lie about something that bore great meaning for both him and for Carl. He tried to keep his response as honest as possible. "Well…my mum was…shot…murdered. The, er…bullet—was meant for me, but she took it instead. And it was already right to the, er…right to the head…"

"Wow…" said Carl, placing his next card. "What happened to the guy who killed her?"

Harry looked over his own cards for a moment before setting one down. Well, he disappeared for a decade before continuing to attempt to kill me over the years and make my life an otherwise living hell. But that's normal, right? "He got away."

The two of them had continued to play a while longer, easing into more casual conversation, as Sirius and Hershel chatted a few feet away. Then, they'd bade each other good night and Harry followed Sirius up to their cell.

They'd learned from Rick earlier that there was no exact schedule for using the showers, but that there were designated time frames during which the water would be turned on for use, as well as a limit on how many people could shower at once. Sirius had asked about when Daryl usually showered on the pretense of trying to stay out of his way as much as possible, and Rick had awkwardly replied that Daryl was rather inconsistent about bathing. Harry and Sirius were each going to shower in the morning at different times, hoping one of them would be going around when Daryl did.

"So trial and error? That's our plan?" Harry asked Sirius as they each climbed into their bunks.

"Unless Glenn gets the wands back for us beforehand, then yes. You got any other ideas?"

Harry sighed. "No, can't say I do."

Sirius was quiet for a moment. "Hang in there. We'll figure it out. I promise."

As much as he wanted to believe him, Harry took his godfather's words with a grain of salt. He removed his glasses and rolled onto his side, suddenly realizing how tired he was. He mumbled "good night" to Sirius and quickly fell asleep.

Miles away, a heavy wind pulled the limbs of several trees back and forth through the night sky, an occasional flash of heat lightning illuminating a clearing in the woods below. A raccoon skirted to the center of the clearing, stopping to paw at the dirt in search of grubs. It went about its business unperturbed by any of the surrounding weather conditions.

A crack split the air just a few feet away and the raccoon leapt backward, body shrinking toward the earth. The crack, golden and glowing, burst open into a wide oval shape and the raccoon ran. Three figures hurtled through the oval together and landed in different spots in the clearing. The oval remained open a mere few seconds before the edges slammed shut together into a golden crack again, which vibrated momentarily before disappearing entirely.

The figures were still for another minute before each of them gradually stirred. The middle figure, a woman with long dark hair, was the first to rise, quickly leaping to her feet and turning in circles, her bony fingers curled around a thin piece of wood that she brandished like a weapon. Her deranged visage relaxed slightly and she turned to the figure closest to her—a man who had just sat up in the grass and was groaning, pressing his palms against his forehead. The woman kicked his leg.

"Get up! We need to gain bearing of our surroundings."

The man grumbled something indistinguishable and stood. The other figure—another man—was already walking over to them, a sticklike piece of wood held aloft in his hand as well. He appeared wary as he scanned the area, but more at ease than the woman. He whispered, "Lumos" and light emerged from the point of his stick. The woman and the other man, who was shorter, imitated him and, together, the trio were able to flood the clearing with light.

"Well?" the woman snapped. "Where do we go from here?"

The tall man stayed silent another moment before eventually frowning. "We can't apparate."

"What?!"

"I told you it was a possibility, Bellatrix."

"But how can you tell?"

The tall man sighed. "From the tests I did when I worked for the department. It's something you can feel if you know what to look for. This universe lacks our magic."

"But we can still do magic…" the shorter man said with a furrowed brow.

"Because the magic is an extension of us. Apparating requires magic in the environment."

"Are you telling me we are to march around these woods like common Mudbloods, Rookwood?" Bellatrix hissed.

Rookwood shrugged. "Something to that effect, yes."

Bellatrix let out a feral shriek and pointed her weapon at a tree, promptly blasting a hole into it.

The shorter man rolled his eyes. "Because that's helpful."

"Shut your mouth, Rabastan!"

A strange snarl rent the air and all three of them went silent. The noise came again, transforming into a steady, gurling growl.

"Are magical creatures a part of this universe, Rookwood?" Bellatrix asked, shining her light in different directions as the growl became louder.

"I…I don't believe so," Rookwood replied, voice unsteady as he too searched for the source of the sound.

"There!" Rabastan shouted, pointing near the tree with the smoking hole in the trunk. All three of them illuminated the area to see what appeared to be a walking corpse meandering their way. "An Inferius! Fire!"

Flames shot from each of the stick weapons and engulfed the corpse. Though now on fire and slowing down, the creature still moved toward them, just with more of a struggle.

"No, no, it's something different!" Rookwood called. "Throw whatever else you can think of at it!"

Various lights and bangs flashed through the air and collided with the walking corpse, which jerked and growled with each hit until, eventually, one jet of light collided with its head, which exploded into fleshy chunks that flew all over the clearing. The torso promptly fell, unmoving.

Bellatrix tossed her hair and looked down her nose at the corpse's remains before turning to face Rookwood and Rabastan.

"We're wasting time. We must find Potter and Black."