A/N: Just wanted to address the multiple reviews I've gotten begging me not to make this into a slash. Let me go ahead and say that while Haryl and Darry are both funny ship names, that won't be happening.

Also, sorry for the delay. I had a tight deadline on finishing my real book, and so I've been busy editing that. But I'm here now.

Thanks for reading!

The man pulled the arrow from Cedric's head and wiped it on his filthy jeans while the body slid down the tree.

"Friend of yours?" he asked, taking in the matching wizard robes with his crossbow still pointed at Harry's face. Harry nodded. "And what the hell is that?"

Harry looked toward the Tri-Wizard Cup, still catching the moonlight even embedded in a patch of greenery. He walked slowly to it and picked it up, careful not to make any sudden movements. A crossbow was faster than a wand, after all.

"A trophy? That your weapon of choice there, dungeon master?"

"Weapon? No, I have..." Harry stopped himself, staring at the jeans and the sleeveless plaid shirt. Muggle clothes. Muggle man. He slid his wand into the back pocket of the jeans beneath is robe. "No."

"Daryl!" someone called.

"Here!" he called back over his shoulder. The flashlight beams made Harry wince.

"Is it her? Is it Sophia?" A blond popped out of the trees followed by a man in a dark jeans.

"No, just some British kid."

"Put the crossbow down, Daryl," the other man said. Daryl sniffed and slowly lowered the bow toward the ground. The man turned to face him. "What's your name, son?"

"Harry."

"I'm Rick. This is Andrea."

"What was with all those lights you were sending up?" Andrea asked. "They looked like flares."

"Right. They were," Harry said, remembering the two tiny sticks Dudley had stolen once from Uncle Vernon's trunk. He still had a burn scar on his ankle.

"Want to tell us why you were sending up flares? You had to know that would bring Walkers." As though on cue, the bushes next to Rick rattled. Daryl sent an arrow into the greenery without batting an eyelid.

"Just a coon," he said. "But dinner's dinner." Andrea shivered and wrinkled her nose.

"You enjoy that."

"What, you don't want a bite?" Daryl asked, picking up the striped creature and waving it toward her.

"I'll pass."

"Those things," Harry said. "What are they exactly?"

"You can't be serious," Andrea said. "Where have you been the past few months?"

Harry resisted the urge to say that he was at Hogwarts, and that whatever was happening here was not happening where he was from.

"I, er, it's complicated."

"You've gotta be kidding me," Daryl said, the coon already hanging from his side. "We find a kid in the middle of the woods in a Halloween costume, and he has no idea what's going on?"

"You're going to have to do better than 'it's complicated,'" Andrea said.

"Are they...They're dead, right?"

"Somewhat." Daryl scanned the trees, his eyes narrowed.

"They feed on us," Rick said, looking down at Cedric's body. "You get bit; you turn into one of them."

"Only way to kill 'em is to get 'em in the brain."

"I don't see how you've managed to survive out here this long or how you haven't seen one until tonight." Andrea studied Harry's face in the moonlight.

"Let's just say I was somewhere safe until tonight. I didn't know."

"Explains why you ain't got a weapon. Doesn't explain how the hell you all the way out here or why you were shootin' up flares. Where's your flare gun by the way, or did you throw those up there yourself?"

"Daryl," Rick said, "that's enough."

"Whatever." And Daryl took off through the trees.

"You'll have to excuse him. He's been under a lot of stress lately." Rick looked in the direction that Daryl had headed. "We lost a little girl, and he's kind of made it his mission to find her."

"When we saw the flares, we thought maybe..." Andrea looked up.

"I'm sorry," Harry said.

"It's alright. It's not your fault, but I think it's best you come back to camp with us." Rick jerked his head in the same direction the sleeveless man had exited. Harry followed him, the blond trailing behind him.

It was a short walk through the trees, flashlight beams lighting the way, before they emerged at the

camp. Harry could see the farmhouse in the distance, a few lights on inside. He wondered why there were so many people out here in tents if there was a perfectly good and working house nearby.

"Andrea, keep an eye on him." Rick gave Harry a pointed look, "though I don't think he'll give us any trouble."

"Where are you going?" Andrea asked.

"To check on Carl up at the house." Rick turned, but didn't make it two steps. A man in cargo pants with a shaved head blocked his path.

"What the hell is this?" he asked, gesturing toward Harry.

"Found him in the woods, Shane."

"So you thought you'd just bring him back here, let him join the group? Maybe we could all tell stories around the campfire and roast marshmallows too." Shane tilted his head to the side and screwed up his nose. "You've got a barn full of Walkers, and now you're bringing back strangers you find in the woods. That's just great Rick, real great."

"Shane, he's just a kid," Andrea said, and Harry tried to remember when it was he last felt like a kid. Had he ever?

"And all we need is another kid who can run off and get lost. Hey, at least Daryl will have something to do," Shane said.

"Hey, I heard that and you best watch your damn mouth." Daryl stood off to the side, gripping his crossbow a little too tightly. When had he walked up?

"Or what?" Shane asked.

"That's enough." Rick put his hands up. "Andrea, get Harry settled in somewhere. I guess the RV will work for tonight."

"Great. Just great." Shane shook his head and turned around. "I'm going back to watch the barn. Why don't you talk to Hershel about getting that thing cleared out while you're up there?" Shane skulked off without another word.

"Come with me," Andrea said, and Harry followed her to the RV.

"Who is this?"

"Dale, this is Harry."

"Er, hello." Harry fidgeted.

"And were you responsible for that fireworks display earlier?" Dale asked.

"I guess so."

"Rick asked if he could stay in here tonight until we can figure something else out." Andrea shrugged a bit.

"Sure, sure," he said. "Plenty of room."

Some time later, Harry lay awake on one of the booth seats of the RV's table. He could hear Dale snoring from one of the beds. The gentle chattering of those still awake outside keeping watch filtered in along with the sound of cicadas. It was almost peaceful, but he could not get the images of Cedric out of his head. He had to kill someone today. Sure, he had done it before. He had (mostly) killed Voldemort as a baby. He had pretty much killed Quirrell in his first year. He would probably have to kill again if things kept going the way they had.

But tonight was the first night he had ever consciously committed the act. It had been merciful, necessary even, but Harry still wondered if he could live with himself.