For disclaimer, see prologue.

Chapter Five: If You Want to Live

(A/N: Thank you to all you reviewers out there, who managed to bring my average review count up to 4.8 reviews per chapter! (does happy dance)

Yes, I do calculate average reviews per chapter. Shut up.)

W00T

Last time…

'Thank you,' said Harry, and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the hand that wasn't pressing the borrowed handkerchief to his injury. He was still really hot from all that running.

W00T

There was sudden dead silence on the street. Actually, more specifically, just from the small crowd that had gathered around him.

Harry checked under the handkerchief gingerly. To both his disgust and delight, he found that the blood had somewhat slowed (disgust, because the handkerchief was really quite bloody by now, and some of it had seeped through and now his hand was a bit bloody, too, and the delight is both self-explanatory and alliterative).

Figuring that he'd bloodied someone else's handkerchief enough, he peeled it away from his cut and looked up at the small crowd around him, who were all, for some reason, staring at him. And it wasn't the 'gosh are you okay that looks nasty here let me let you bloody my handkerchief' kind of stare; it wasn't even the 'crazy kid' kind of stare, or the 'stop getting blood all over the place, stupid' kind of stare. Harry couldn't quite classify it; he didn't seem to have ever experienced this kind of stare before.

SUDDENLY!

Half a dozen men dressed in dark blue robes burst onto the street from the end opposite the one Harry had come in from, breathing heavily and looking around for something. One of them spotted Harry, shouted, tugged on his partner's sleeve, and pointed.

Harry gulped. Not good, I think.

The six men started running towards him like a herd of rampaging bulls, except not. People did shriek and dart out of their way as they approached though, yelling things like 'Just because you're the government doesn't mean you own the place – ' and 'Watch it, government people!' and various other insults, all somehow related to the government. Notice the subtle cutting off of the first mentioned insult, indicating either that the person got trampled or that they had yelled something UNMENTIONABLE.

Needless to say, this metaphorical herd of rampaging bulls was quite scary to Harry, especially when the blood from his injury was still fresh on his hand and someone else's handkerchief.

'Er, first one gets to keep it,' Harry said quickly, tossing the handkerchief into the air and running away from the Aurors. A single, solitary person, a young woman, shrieked and immediately snatched it, squealing and jumping up and down in delight as Harry ran like a madman.

As he sprinted, he heard a familiar child's voice from before say loudly, 'But Harry Potter's dead, dad!'

'Honestly, Jimmy! Don't you have any sense? Here, quickly, run after him and get his autograph!'

This exchange apparently shocked the rest of small crowd from before out of their stupor, and suddenly, the street was filled with frenzied screams to accompany the yelling. It was like a band called the Chalkboard Crew had suddenly showed up and turned their amplifiers on full blast.

Bad analogy, Harry thought, and had to screech to a halt as he finally spotted four Aurors dashing in from the other end. Turning around frantically on the spot, trying to find a means of escape, he found none. On both ends of the street, Aurors were chasing him, two more were entering from where Harry had come in, and to make it even worse, now there was a small – oh wait, it was getting bigger – crowd screaming after him as well.

'Grarrh,' someone said. Harry jumped and looked down to where the voice had come from.

Jimmy giggled and held out a piece of parchment and a feather to him. 'Can I get your autograph, Mister Harry?'

'Er,' Harry replied eloquently, taking the…feather…and parchment. 'Is this a quill?'

'It's a Self-Inking Quill,' said the boy proudly.

'Okay, sure.' Harry quickly signed the parchment and handed it back to Jimmy, who grinned widely. 'Listen, you wouldn't know a way out of here, would you?'

Jimmy looked around. 'I'm sorry, Mister Harry,' he said solemnly. But his tone was belied by the skip in his step as he ran back to his father, waving the parchment in the air for him to see.

'This,' Harry said to himself as the crowd came trampling towards him, 'is not good.'

And then he was engulfed by what felt like a zillion people (Harry used to like the number zillion), all screaming something about autographs and 'I touched him! I actually touched him!' and 'That's my handkerchief, you know!' and Harry even thought he heard a faint, 'He's so hot.'

'Out of my way! Auror coming through! Move it, kid!'

Harry could actually have collapsed in relief as six Aurors shoved their way through the crowd and stared down at Harry, who was lying on the ground. Hey, they'd got them off him.

One of the Aurors, a female with short blonde hair, choked when she saw him. 'Oh. Oh my, oh dear. Oh dear.'

The Aurors gaped at Harry, and he felt distinctly uncomfortable. And quite confused.

'We're so screwed.'

The other six Aurors arrived, jaws dropping when they saw Harry.

'Harry Potter?'

'Yes, it is!'

'We're so screwed.'

One of the Aurors whispered something into his partner's ear, and she nodded. 'Mr Potter,' she began, stepping forward, 'come with us if you want to live.'

Harry blinked. That couldn't be right.

'…and then you will follow us there by Side-Along Apparation,' the Auror finished. 'Is that amenable to you, Mr Potter?'

'Er,' Harry replied eloquently, again. He must have imagined the first bit, then. 'Could you repeat that, please?'

'We're getting you out of here. Take my hand if you want to live,' said the Auror, holding out said hand.

Harry blinked and took it. Then he remembered something. 'Er, Miss,' he said, 'did you happen to see a dead guy when you came in, by any chance?'

She blinked. 'No, Mr Potter. By "dead guy", do you mean an urn of ashes, a coffin, or…?'

'Er,' said Harry, using her hand to help him get up and releasing it, 'no. 'By "dead guy", I mean…er…a zombie.'

She blinked again. 'No, Mr Potter. Have you perchance any prescribed medication on you?'

Harry sighed. 'No. I don't.'

'Grarrh,' someone said loudly.

Harry looked past the Auror and his eyes widened. 'There he is!'

The Auror whirled around and, seeing the zombie lurching over to them, said something (that shall not be repeated here) under her breath. 'Aurors, wands at the ready! Inferius coming in from Knockturn Alley!' she yelled.

There was mass panic on the street, and the small – getting larger – crowd, hearing the Auror, ran away, now screaming not in delight, but in panic. Shop owners immediately rushed back to their shops and locked their doors, watching fearfully from an upstairs window.

The twelve Aurors formed a small circle around Harry, sticks – wands? – at the ready. When the zombie – Inferius? – wow, Harry was learning a lot of new words today – got closer, they all yelled something definitely not English as one, and suddenly, there was a ring of fire around them.

Harry, standing on tiptoe to get a better view over someone's head, blinked.

The Auror checked her watch. 'On the count of three,' she said hurriedly, taking Harry's hand again. 'Everyone ready? One…two…three.'

Harry lost control of his lungs, as if he was being squeezed by a hydraulic press on all sides so hard he couldn't breathe, just as his brain cried, 'Sleep! I need sleep! Kthxbye, you're on your own.'

That wasn't the last message his brain left him, though. No, his last thought before he collapsed was Wow, this floor is cold.

W00T

(A/N: What? It seemed like a good place to end. So maaaybe the chapter's a bit short.

I have to think of something to write next, too, after all.

Because someone didn't like my last form review, here's a new one:

'update soon lol funny chapter'

That's what most reviews consist of, anyway. 'Update soon'. Aren't I helpful?)