For disclaimer, see prologue. Warnings: minor drug and sexual references, lame humour.

Chapter Three: What a Wonderful World

Last time…

'I say, what's that?' Peter said suddenly, pointing behind him.

Harry sighed and turned around –

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– and gaped.

For there, you see, was the human-like inhuman thing that had been chasing him around all day.

And just when I thought I'd got away too, Harry thought bitterly.

Harry turned back around to face Peter. 'I have to go,' he said, and ran.

'Wait! You never answered my questions!' he heard Peter call after him, but he didn't stop. He knew that the zombie would have picked up the pace by now, and would be following him closely, closely enough that Harry would be unable to find a good hiding place, much less go and hide in one.

And I say to myself…what a wonderful world… Harry hummed to himself as he sprinted.

He glanced behind him and saw…was it slowing down? Harry frowned, turning his head to look forward, and just barely managed to stop himself from slamming his face into a pole.

His foot wasn't so lucky, though. It somehow got caught around the pole and he promptly fell over face first. Painfully.

Groaning and in pain, Harry painfully tried to get up, being painfully reminded of the pain he was currently in by his painful attempt at getting up. He rolled over onto his back in a painful manner and painfully sat up, looking around for the zombie, who was most unfortunately probably not in pain.

He frowned again. That was odd. He couldn't seem to find it. Painfully aware that the zombie could very well be behind him (again), he turned his head painfully to look behind him, fully expecting to have to get up and run.

He blinked.

And quickly got up, ignoring the pain that accompanied this action. The zombie wasn't anywhere around. It had to be, right? He'd seen it just a few seconds ago before he'd tripped over that pole (It sounds really stupid when I put it like that, Harry pondered, deciding never to mention it again).

Harry scanned the general vicinity for anything that looked vaguely dead or zombie-like and occasionally turned around to look behind him to check there and in various alleys and suspicious-looking dark places.

Poking his head into a random dark alley, Harry found a gang of teenagers doing crack, marijuana, and various other illegal drugs.

One of them sneered at him. 'What're you doing, beggar? You ain't got money to buy any of this.'

'Have you seen a dead guy around here, by any chance?' Harry asked, ignoring the question and the fact that they were obviously skiving off school.

The one who had spoken stared at him.

'Okay, thanks,' Harry said, dashing off to look in more alleys and other dark, suspicious-looking places.

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'Oh, great,' Harry muttered. (What he really said was actually something slightly more colourful than that, but it shall not be repeated here.)

'Grarrh,' said the zombie.

Harry didn't have any strength to run anymore. He'd been running for ages, and it had done him no good – the zombie was still resolutely following him. He had to give it credit for persistence, though.

He slumped against a wall and stared listlessly up at the zombie staring down at him.

'What do you want with me, exactly?' he asked. It was really sort of pointless, as the zombie probably couldn't understand him, but it had worked as a diversion tactic before, and he might be able to get away again. 'You can't want money or food, because obviously I haven't got any. I'm not particularly good-looking, as vexing as it is to know this, so you can't want sex, and I'm not into necrophilia. I'm pretty sure I'm not gay, either, assuming you are…were…a man. Did someone send you here or something? Am I secretly part of a government plot planning to take over the world and restore the British Empire? Oh yes, nice going, Tony,' he muttered under his breath. /1/

The zombie stood there, staring at him. 'Grarrh,' it said. Harry seemed to detect some confusion and a tiny bit of disappointment and shock from it. He was probably just imagining things, though.

There was silence, broken by the occasional 'Grarrh' from the zombie.

'Aren't you going to try and kill me or capture me or something?' Harry asked, finally.

The zombie would have blinked if it had had eyelids.

Harry, still slumped against the wall, stared up at the zombie.

'Okay, look,' said Harry, just to fill the silence. 'I'm going to get up, and you're not going to kill me, okay? Okay.'

He got up. The zombie didn't kill him.

'Thanks,' said Harry, starting to edge away.

The zombie followed him.

Harry stopped.

The zombie stopped.

Harry sighed.

'Look, mate. We've been through tough times together for quite a few hours now. Almost forty-eight hours, even. And you've been following me for all those tough times. Ten out of ten for perseverance, really, but I mean, well, it's getting kind of irritating. Not that there's nothing wrong with irritating,' Harry added quickly, in case the zombie got insulted and killed him or something. 'After all, I am pretty irritating myself…hang on.

'Well, all I'm saying,' Harry continued, after a brief pause to consider the stupidity of what he had just said, 'that you don't have to keep following me, you know. I mean, this is Britain, the land of…land of…the British! Certainly not the land of the free, no, that's what America calls themselves, but all us Brits know that we're better than those Yanks, eh?' Harry tried to grin.

'Grarrh,' said the zombie.

Harry sighed a deep sigh.

'All right, then. Follow me if you want to. It's not going to do you any good, you know.'

With that, Harry turned around and started walking. The zombie followed.

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Quite some time later…

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Harry was really, really hungry.

He glanced at the zombie, who was walking beside him after Harry had told it to because 'you're really creeping me out you know, following me like that.'

He looked back where he was walking and stopped. The zombie stopped. Harry looked around, analysing the scene, and concluding that there was absolutely nothing interesting or even vaguely restaurant- or grocery store-like. Harry sighed deeply.

'I don't suppose you would know where we can get some food, would you?' Harry said, just for the sake of saying something, since he knew the zombie couldn't reply.

'Grarrh,' said the zombie.

Other than that, of course.

Harry yawned and looked up at the sky. It was getting dark. Must be around five or six o'clock, then. He really needed something to eat, but he didn't have the money to buy anything…

Perhaps he would go to sleep and try to ignore the growling of his stomach. Harry sighed. Now that he knew the zombie was pretty much harmless, he really wished he'd brought his collecting tin. In his panic to get away, he'd left it behind, and he just couldn't bring himself to walk all the way back to get it, if it was even there anymore.

Harry shuffled gloomily to the nearest alley. It was empty, except for a few wooden crates stacked up against the very far wall. It didn't look too bad. Harry decided that that was where they'd stay for the night.

Well, they say the floor is good for your back, he thought as he lay down on the ground near the wall. If that's true, then I have the best backbone of everyone in England. He snickered slightly at this double entendre and yawned again, closing his eyes.

His stomach growled loudly. Harry blushed out of habit.

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Look, stomach, why don't you just shut up and let me get some sleep? Harry thought to his…er…stomach, irritated. That was his second thought. His first thought was merely ugh, which, while not exactly eloquent, was quite a good way of summarising what he thought of his stomach at that time.

Because really, it was getting extremely annoying. Reverse psychology wasn't working, either; Harry had already tried that. Nor did taunting, teasing, mocking, or general threatening have any conceivable positive effect on the frequent rumblings of his stomach.

You know, I really wish I were famous, Harry thought idly. Famous people are usually rich. And rich people don't have to scrounge for food, or starve, or poke around in garbage cans, or sleep in dirty alleys.

Heck, I'd even settle for being normal. Normal people don't do that either. They have normal homes, and normal cars, and normal beds, and normal decorations…

Wait, no, that's the Dursleys. Harry made a face. Urgh.

I'd like to be famous, then. It would be pretty wicked, to be famous. Famous people get everything.

And no, I'm not bitter! Harry immediately thought, to forestall the other voice in his head from saying anything.

Harry suddenly decided he definitely was not going to get any sleep while he was starving, so he got up and stretched. Yawning and clapping a hand over his mouth to make that weird 'hom-hom-hom' noise that was oddly amusing to him, he surveyed the alley he had been lying in.

It was a suspiciously…clean alley. Not that there was no such thing as a clean alley, but it was just that clean alleys around here were very, very rare, even with the MI5 around. He supposed they didn't see the point in cleaning alleys.

There was no mud or anything like that on the ground. It was pretty much spotless. It looked exactly the same as all the pavements outside the alley.

This was officially creepy.

Harry's eyes darted around suspiciously. He turned around to face the entryway to the alley and his eyes widened in shock.

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/1/ Blair.

(A/N: Lame humour is just the thing for me.
I can't seem to stop putting it in my story.
Which really sucks
Because when I'm trying to write
Something serious on-site
My mind will inevitably go,
'Go on, dancing crockery!
Make a funny mockery
Of Walt Disney's
Cats Siamese
And other various Disney productions.'

Not one of my better poems, I must admit. Hee. Although I wrote that in all of thirty seconds without using RhymeZone dot Com, which is quite an achievement for me. Let's all congratulate my poetry skills in a review!

Or if you don't want to do that, I'll give you an outline of what you can write in a review:

Did you like this chapter?
Did you like the lame humour?
Is there anything you would like to see?
Is there anything you think I could improve on?
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See, I'm so helpful. Please review! (smiles innocently with wide eyes, compelling you to click the little blue/purple button))