Author's Note: This is a loooong chapter lol. This is because the actual show plot points, which are also the beginning of a season and therefore introductory on their own, begin in this chapter, and with those being alongside my own plot, there's a lot of exposition and stuff to set up. The action picks up near the end and I wanted to cover a certain amount of subject matter in one sitting. Hope you enjoy it!

The weeks went by and both Harry and Sirius found themselves falling into a groove among the prison community. Harry basically floated as an assistant to everyone's daily tasks, prioritizing any work that involved putting more food on the table before moving on to any cleaning and maintenance chores. He also helped eliminate any Walkers that came near the fences, rendering group fence duty obsolete. Sirius, meanwhile, helped with more complex situations, like using what knowledge he had of healing magic to improve people's minor injuries. He accompanied Daryl and Glenn for backup on a couple of nearby recruiting runs, while he also made frequent trips into the woods to take out Walkers before they could reach the prison grounds. Additionally, after it was suggested by the council, he helped Sirius hunt.

The latter task was one that had initially been a struggle for both Sirius and Daryl to come to terms with, Daryl not wanting assistance with what was widely considered his specialty (and also interfering with his time to be alone and away from everyone), while Sirius had an internal conflict with killing deer. When Daryl had asked that Sirius turn into a dog to sniff out deer, Sirius had frozen, trying to process the concept of pursuing the same animal he associated so closely with James. Sirius had frequently "hunted" him and then tackled him, resulting in a playful fight. He couldn't imagine catching a deer and then sinking his jaws into its neck to snuff its life out. He'd eventually conceded to at least track the deer for Daryl and lead him to them, but he refused to be the one to kill them. He would kill any other animals, but deer were off limits for Sirius.

Daryl had arched a brow at him, clearly perplexed, but he hadn't pushed the issue, to Sirius' surprise and gratitude.

Sirius was pleased and proud to see that Harry was adjusting well enough. He did a lot of laughing and chatting with Carl and seemed to be enjoying how much he was able to help everyone. However, Sirius did notice that, when Harry thought he was alone and didn't realize Sirius was watching him, a deep but subtle melancholy seemed to wilt his features. His smile and laughter would fade and his eyes would take on this faraway look as if someone had just whispered in his ear that he didn't belong here. It made Sirius more determined to come up with a solution to get them home, even though he still had no ideas for how to do so. He frequently lay awake at night trying to think of things he could try or places he could go to find…something. He had tried Apparating long ago and, just as he had suspected, found himself unable to do so. He didn't know what else to do besides hope that Dumbledore would find a way to fetch them.

Yet, there was also still a guilty part of Sirius that hoped he would find no way to return to their world and that no one would come for them. He was enjoying the quality time he got to spend with Harry without the threat of Voldemort and his war looming over them. The prison was safe enough that they had yet to find themselves in any real danger since getting their wands back, so when they weren't working, Sirius and Harry were able to relax. They were able to have more in-depth conversations that they hadn't been able to have at Grimmauld Place when so many people had been constantly in their business. Sirius was learning more and more about his godson and finding even more to appreciate and admire about him than he thought possible.

He frequently had to remind himself that he had to do what was best for Harry, though, and that that was getting him home. In the moments that he found himself thinking maybe he should just drop pursuing the matter altogether, Sirius inwardly berated himself and concentrated even harder on the dilemma.

That didn't mean he wasn't going to enjoy this time while he had it.

The community at the prison was pulling Sirius in more as well. People thanked him frequently for his contributions and he was getting along well with pretty much everyone. After being cooped up in Grimmauld Place, it was liberating to finally feel useful again. Even he and Daryl were working well together, though they maintained an unspoken agreement to never say so out loud.

Meanwhile, someone else was catching Sirius' attention in a way that no one had in a very long time. Michonne had agreed to stay at the prison a little longer before returning to her hunt for the mysterious "Governor" Sirius had heard so much about. She'd said the last major storm had caused too much flooding in the places she'd intended to search, but she was determined to get back out there after strategizing a new path and plan. Sirius frequently saw her sitting in different locations with a map spread out in front of her, her brow furrowed in concentration and a marker held in her hand or between her teeth. The sight always brought a crooked smile to Sirius' face.

Before he knew it, Sirius found himself sitting across from her at the table in the cell block one day. Michonne hardly spared half a glance up to see who was joining her, staying focused on her current task.

Sirius cleared his throat. "You know, my mates and I once created a map of our school grounds together."

Keeping her eyes on the map, Michonne mumbled a dry, "Congratulations."

Her dismissive response only made Sirius grin. "I only say so because perhaps I have skills that can be of use to you."

Michonne sighed, crossing something out. "I don't need help with the map. I need to pinpoint what this asshole's plan is. His path has been…erratic."

Sirius took the opportunity to get up and move around the table to sit next to Michonne, leaning over to look at the map with her. "Where are you getting hung up?"

She cast him an appraising side glance before pointing at a spot on the map. "Here. This is where he was last seen." She pointed at a different spot. "I checked and cleared these areas, here and here," She pointed at two large crossed out spots that were adjacent to each other. "So he only could have gone in this direction." She moved the marker in a line. "The storm left these areas—" she pointed at four circled locations "—too flooded for anyone to pass through without something large and strong enough to keep them afloat. It's possible he drowned, but I don't think so. He's too relentless to go out like that." She shook her head. "My gut says he's still alive. He could have holed up somewhere until the water levels dropped. His options for places to take shelter in were low, though. That leaves just this direction, but that whole town has been overrun by Walkers for months…"

Sirius paid close attention as Michonne went over her options, trying to find something she had missed, but she was incredibly thorough. Since he didn't have the geographical knowledge to help her, Sirius took a more psychological approach.

"So forget the logical routes for a second," Sirius said. "This bloke is essentially the human equivalent of a cockroach, right?"

"Something like that," Michonne agreed. "He's ruthless, the type to survive out of pure spite."

Sirius nodded. "That's what I thought. Is he aware you're after him?"

"I don't think so."

"So then what's his motivation for getting so far away?"

Michonne looked away thoughtfully for a moment. Then her eyes lit up in realization. "He needs to find people. New people. He's charismatic and an egomaniac. He thrives on social power, selling people a story and using them to achieve his means. We took that from him." Michonne's eyes grew big. "He's going to go wherever he thinks he can find a new group to take charge of, even if that means putting his life at risk to get there." Michonne scanned the map, her finger moving over it before finding a place to land. "This is where he would be most likely to run into people, and the only way for him to get there is through this town, which is one of the areas affected by the storm. It wasn't just flooded—there were fallen trees everywhere, a lot of roads blocked and impassable." She flashed Sirius a wide smile, which made his heartrate accelerate. "I know where to look next. Thank you."

"I'm glad I could help," Sirius smiled back before shifting uncomfortably. "May I ask why it's so important for you to find this asshole, though? I've heard some of the stories about him. Glenn told me he…that he assaulted Maggie. He didn't—ah…he didn't do that to you, did he?" When Michonne clenched her fists on top of the map, Sirius realized how tactless of a question that was and was horrified at his own stupidity, sputtering, "I'm so sorry. That was such a—I didn't mean to pry. I—"

"No, it's okay," Michonne said. "It's a fair question. You want to know why I have such a vendetta compared to everyone else, why I'm hellbent on finding him when Glenn and Maggie are perfectly happy to move on from him?"

"It doesn't matter. It's not my business."

"It's okay." Michonne put a hand on Sirius' shoulder, raising her brows at him emphatically. "He did attack me, but not like how he attacked Maggie. He tried to kill me and I stabbed him in the eye." Her features became cooly triumphant in a way that gave Sirius chills. "I was alone for a very long time, in a very dark place, when I met a woman named Andrea. We traveled together for a while, and she became my friend. She…brought me back, I suppose. Then we found Woodbury…we found him. He manipulated Andrea, pitting her against me, and then he killed her." Michonne looked at Sirius, her eyes fierce. "I want revenge."

Sirius held her gaze. In it, he saw so many things that he saw in himself—her blood lust, her loyalty, her vengeance-fueled tunnel vision. It was both unnerving and, strangely, comforting. He couldn't remember the last time he related to anyone so strongly.

"Are you going to try to convince me to let it go?" Michonne asked wryly.

"Not at all." Sirius shook his head vehemently. "Promise not to go running off right away, though now that you have a destination in mind?"

"I already told Daryl I'd go on the Big Spot run, so I'll at least stay until after that." She leaned back and narrowed her eyes at Sirius. "Why? What do you want me around for?"

Sirius wanted to come up with a smooth reply, but he knew Michonne was clever enough to see through something like that, and he respected her too much to even try in the first place. He gave her a very simple but sincere answer. "I just enjoy your company."

Michonne rolled her eyes, but smiled. "Wow…I didn't realize you were so soft."

Grimacing, Sirius replied, "Don't let Daryl find out. He'll never stop taking the mickey out of me."

Michonne snorted. "Oh, please. That man's a damn teddy bear on a cloud."


Ron and Hermione made frequent appearances in Harry's dreams, which rotated settings between Hogwarts, the Department of Mysteries, and the prison. Sometimes, they were in the castle corridors fighting off Walkers. Sometimes, they were doing Charms homework in the cell block. In one recent dream, Hagrid was standing in front of the Veil before Lizzy, Mika, and the other children from the prison, holding a leashed Walker at his side. As it snapped and growled, Hagrid crooned, "Aw, poor fella's just hungry. Lizzy, why don't ya pass him something to eat? Don't be shy." Lizzy complied with a smile, standing up and holding a rat out for the Walker before turning to Mika and saying, "Hagrid's right. Walkers are just misunderstood." After that dream and every other one, Harry woke up confused for a bit before remembering what was really happening.

His stomach ached after every time he goofed off with Carl or enjoyed someone's gratitude for helping simplify a project. He missed everyone back home deeply, but he was filled with self-disgust for finding himself happy with his routine. The cognitive dissonance of it all was often overwhelming. He did his best to keep this to himself, though. While he knew Sirius would encourage him to talk about it, he didn't want to make his godfather feel bad when he knew he was trying his best to figure out their situation.

Harry recalled Sirius' words when he'd first returned from the clearing with Daryl, telling Harry he hadn't found anything. His godfather had insisted that Dumbledore would get them out of this somehow. Dumbledore had more knowledge and power than almost anyone else in the Wizarding World, and he was more determined than anyone to ensure Voldemort's downfall. If Harry was the key to that as the prophecy (or what Harry had heard of it) seemed to suggest, then there was no way Dumbledore was going to just sit by and make no effort to retrieve him.

Unless he finds another way to defeat Voldemort. The more time that passed, the more this thought clawed at Harry's insides. On the one hand, if there was a way to bring about Voldemort's demise without Harry, he no longer had to bear the responsibility and could be at peace knowing the Wizarding World was safe without him. On the other hand, the idea of being so disposable to Dumbledore was…well…painful.

Currently, though, Harry was fortunate enough to be distracted from these thoughts by the lesson Sirius was giving him. A few days ago, Sirius had approached Harry about making sure he was still up to par on his magical abilities and had insisted on giving him lessons at least a few times a week when they weren't working around the prison. He would go over things that Harry would learn in his last two years at Hogwarts, along with more in-depth duelling techniques and basic medical care. Harry had no objections, appreciating this, as he still wanted to be a competent wizard whether he returned to his own world or not.

For their first lesson, two days ago, Sirius taught Harry some Transfiguration by gathering (or stealing, depending who you asked) random objects from all over the prison and bringing them to the courtyard. He went through each object one at a time and instructed Harry on how to change it into something else, basing what to transform it into on what he could remember from his sixth and seventh year classes with McGonagall. Harry had had success with the smaller objects after a couple of tries, while the larger objects took more time for him to get the hang of, but with Sirius patiently guiding him through it, gradually adjusting his wand movements and spell pronunciations, Harry was able to successfully transfigure each object before the sun went down.

This afternoon, the two of them were sitting at a table outside, going over different poison antidotes that were usually taught in sixth year.

"Obviously we can't actually brew them since we don't have the ingredients or a cauldron, but it still helps to go over the process and familiarize yourself with the names," Sirius had said. "Hell, you'll probably learn more going over the theory with me than actually brewing it under Sniv—Snape's instruction."

Sirius had listed the first few antidotes they would be going over in a notebook, leaving space between each one for Harry to write the ingredients and brewing process. His idea was to have Harry write what he heard Sirius say to help embed it in his brain, and then Harry would study his notes for Sirius to quiz him on the next day.

Harry was sitting to Sirius' left on the bench, writing down what Sirius had just said about stirring direction and duration, while Sirius waited quietly before continuing with the next steps. In the middle of writing, he was startled when his godfather suddenly grabbed his wrist, making Harry accidentally scribble on the paper as he pulled it away.

"What are you—?" but Harry stopped in horror as he realized that Sirius was holding Harry's hand in front of his face, clearly looking at the somewhat faded scar on the back of his hand: I must not tell lies.

The scar left behind from Umbridge's sadistic detentions had grown faint over the last few months, to a point where Harry hardly noticed it and almost forgot about it, but his pale skin had acquired a bad sunburn from spending so much time under the Georgian sun, making the white lines stand out more visibly against the red. It had been easy enough to hide the scar from Sirius when at Grimmauld Place. His trips there after starting his detentions had been in the colder months, so he had always been in long, often loose sleeves that fell somewhat over his hand. Plus, his stays there were never long enough to forget to keep his hand out of view.

He tried to think of what to say as Sirius stared daggers into the back of Harry's hand, face ashen and jaw clearly clenched, but Harry was frozen by embarrassment, shame, and guilt. He eventually came to his senses enough to snatch his hand away and hide it under the table, looking away from Sirius as he felt his face grow hot.

"Who made you do that?" Sirius asked in a deadly quiet voice, which shook as he spoke.

"It's nothing," Harry insisted. "Really, it wasn't a big deal—"

"Who…made you do that?" Sirius repeated, now growling.

Harry sighed. He supposed it didn't matter if Sirius knew now, when the person in question was beyond his reach. "Umbridge. When I spoke out about Voldemort in her classes, she started having me do—er…lines with her for detention."

Sirius exhaled sharply, standing up and pacing around the courtyard, hands flexing at his sides. Harry watched him nervously, staying quiet and hoping his godfather would calm down enough to let the issue go.

That was stupid. To the contrary, Sirius pointed his wand at the nearest empty picnic table and blasted it to pieces with a roar of rage.

"Sirius!" Harry rebuked desperately. The only other people outside were Glenn and Maggie, who had been having a private, lovey dovey conversation at another table further down the yard. They both jumped to their feet.

"What the hell, Sirius?" exclaimed Glenn.

"Walker?" Maggie called, looking around for a threat.

"No, nothing to worry about," Harry called back while Sirius stood still, fuming. "Sorry about that! We'll fix it!"

He cast them an apologetic look and restored the picnic table. Glenn and Maggie stared in incredulous confusion before they whispered to each other and headed inside, Glenn nodding at Harry and Maggie offering a strained smile. They could clearly tell something was going on that Harry and Sirius needed privacy for.

Once they were gone, Sirius turned back toward Harry, stepping closer to him, a pained expression on his face. "Why didn't you tell me she was making you use a blood quill?"

The betrayal in Sirius' voice tugged at Harry. He swallowed, looking down at his lap before facing Sirius again. "I knew you'd come storming into the castle to go after her. Then you'd end up back in Azkaban, if not killed by Aurors or kissed by Dementors."

"So what? It's my job to protect you and stop people from hurting you!" Sirius bellowed, startling Harry somewhat. He had heard Sirius shout plenty of times, but never at him. "The consequences are mine to take if it means keeping you safe! It's not your responsibility to worry about me!"

Harry stood, now finding his own temper rearing its head. "It is if the consequences affect me too! I'd rather have to cut open my hand a few nights a week than lose you!"

Sirius glared at Harry, but Harry defiantly glared right back. Sirius snarled in frustration and turned away again. When he spoke, his voice was quieter, full of restraint. "You'd be okay without me. You'd have Remus and the Weasleys."

"How can you say that?" Harry yelled. "Why the hell do you think I went to the Department of Mysteries in the first place? Went after you through the stupid Veil? I…" He was surprised and irritated with himself at the swell of emotion that suddenly gripped him, his throat going dry. He sank back onto the bench behind him, swallowed, and tried to keep his voice steady. "I need you."

Sirius turned back to Harry, who didn't expect the wetness in his godfather's eyes. It reminded him of the night they'd first met in the Shrieking Shack, when Sirius had said he was to blame for the deaths of Harry's parents. Releasing a shaky sigh, Sirius closed the distance between him and Harry and knelt before his godson. He gently brought a hand up to cup one of Harry's cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "I just…" Sirius looked down, brow creased as he tried to compose himself. He brought his gaze back up. "You've been through so much. My goddamn heart breaks every time I hear of another new bit of suffering you've had to experience. It's not fair. It's not what your parents wanted for you, and it's certainly not what I want for you. I just want to help you, kid. I'd go through anything and everything to help you."

The words hit Harry like a truck, overwhelming him in a way that filled him with appreciation. It wasn't that what Sirius said was exactly news; Harry already knew how much his godfather cared for him—it was why the idea of losing him was so devastating. But hearing the words out loud came with its own weight. Harry hadn't grown up hearing that he was cared for, that his happiness and safety mattered. No one had ever been so ready to sacrifice their own wellbeing for Harry's. After becoming a part of the Wizarding World and forming bonds with people like the Weasleys, Hermione, Hagrid, Lupin…Harry knew he now had people who loved him, but when they said or did things that truly demonstrated that love, there was still a part of him that believed it was too good to be true. The Dursleys had spent years drilling into Harry that he was a worthless burden. Even though he knew they were awful and brainless, it was still difficult sometimes to get their voices out of his head. He thought about when he returned to them the summer after his first year at Hogwarts, when Dobby the house elf had intercepted all of his mail, making Harry think no one was writing to him like they'd said they would. He remembered wondering if he'd somehow imagined his entire experience.

Then he'd learned he had someone out there who wanted Harry to live with him, someone who had done what everyone thought was impossible by escaping Azkaban just to protect him. Sirius had proven himself to be the opposite of everything the Dursleys embodied. Sometimes it was hard to believe he was real.

"You have no idea how much you help me just by being in my life and giving a damn," Harry finally said. "I don't want you to die for me or go back to Azkaban for me. I just want you around."

Sirius closed his eyes, held his forehead in his hand, and nodded. "I know." When he opened his eyes, he looked at Harry searchingly. "I can't promise I'll never put myself at risk for you, especially not if your life is in danger. That will always be my responsibility. But…I will promise to try to be more careful about how I handle things. Does that sound reasonable?"

Harry thought about it. There had been plenty of times where Sirius had advised Harry to be more cautious about things, but he couldn't recall Sirius ever applying the word "careful" to any aspect of his own life. "Yeah…all right," he conceded.

"Good," Sirius smiled, though it was a very strained one.

"Have you seen those before, what Umbridge used on me? You said it was called a blood quill? I didn't realize there was a name for them."

Sirius became stiff again. "Yes."

"I thought it was just something she had specially made or something. They didn't use to be common at Hogwarts, did they?"

Sirius looked away as he shifted from his knees to sit back on his haunches. "No, they were never allowed at Hogwarts, at least since Dumbledore's been headmaster, and they became illegal in Britain about thirty years ago."

Harry frowned, noticing that Sirius seemed uneasy again. "But you're familiar with them?"

Sirius held his gaze for a moment, appearing to be steeling himself. Then, with a glint of resolve in his eyes, he held up his own right hand in front of him. Harry watched, bewildered, as his godfather used his left hand to point his wand at his right hand, muttering, "Cicatrix revelio." After a few seconds, he held his hand out in front of Harry, who released a sharp intake of breath as white lines formed above Sirius' knuckles, faint but distinct: I will not betray my family.

Harry's stomach lurched, his eyes snapping from Sirius' hand to his grim face. "You've had to use one too?"

"It was one of my mum's favorite forms of punishment," said Sirius softly. "Any time I expressed—ah…disdain—for my family's ideologies."

Harry gaped at him, a surge of affection for his godfather coursing through him. No wonder Sirius had reacted so angrily to Harry's scar; he knew how painful it had been to create it. At least it was just some horrible hag from the Ministry making Harry use a blood quill. Sirius had been subjected to such treatment by his own mother. For all his talk of not wanting Harry to experience more suffering, Sirius seemed to have no regard for how much suffering of his own he'd had to go through. Harry wondered if perhaps his godfather was just resigned to that being his fate at this point and only wanted to save it from being Harry's as well.

"Your mum was brilliant at Potions," Sirius murmured. "There's a very complicated one that will reduce or even remove visibility of scars, depending on the severity and how well the potion is brewed. After I ran away and was officially living with your dad's parents, Lily spent months perfecting the potion and brewed it for me." He huffed a quiet laugh. "I hugged her so long she asked if I'd fallen asleep on her."

Without hesitation, Harry launched himself from the bench and threw his arms around his godfather, almost knocking both of them to the ground. Sirius let out a surprised grunt before slowly wrapping his own arms around Harry in return. They stayed that way for a long moment, neither of them speaking, but saying everything.

Harry couldn't remember ever feeling safer.


The following day, Daryl and Sirius returned from the woods with a very large buck, three wild turkeys, and two rabbits. The deer and two of the turkeys were Daryl's kills, while the other turkey and the rabbits were Sirius'. They unloaded them by the table where Daryl and Carol would dress the kills together, which Sirius would have helped with if he knew how to do so magically. Bob, a newcomer to the prison community who Daryl, Sirius, and Glenn had brought back last week, ambled by and stopped in his tracks, hands on his hips and an impressed smile plastered to his face.

"Well, damn, guys, good haul!" he exclaimed. To Daryl, he had the tone of an adult praising a child.

Daryl grunted in acknowledgement and Sirius muttered a sardonic, "We try."

"No, really!" Bob went on, sounding as if they had just achieved something life-changing. "That's enough meat to keep us all full for…well, a pretty long time." He chuckled and then clapped one hand on Daryl's shoulder, the other on Sirius'. "Thanks a million, fellas."

He walked away and Daryl watched him for a moment before shaking his head. "Something off about that guy."

Sirius was also watching Bob, brow furrowed. "He's too damn cheerful."

"Yeah, exactly. Thought he was gonna piss himself from excitement."

Sirius snorted. "Probably on his way to change his trousers now."

Daryl couldn't help huffing out a short laugh. Everyone else talked about how sweet Bob was. Daryl was glad he wasn't the only one who found the man's enthusiasm off-putting.

Carol came over, eying the dead animals with approval before looking between the two men. "What's so funny?"

Daryl appraised her. "What do you think about the new guy?"

"What, Bob?" Carol glanced over her shoulder at where Bob had disappeared through the door to the cell block. She shrugged. "Seems a little naïve, but harmless. I think he means well."

"But there ain't a part of you that kinda wants to bop the guy in the nose?"

Carol crossed her arms, smirking in a mockingly reproachful way, as if trying not to laugh. "No. He's just eager to help. I'm not going to jeopardize turning someone like that away."

Sirius made a noise somewhere between a derisive laugh and a hmph before taking off. Daryl watched him with a frown before turning to Carol. "He's kind of a got a point, you know."

Carol blinked at him, nonplussed. "He didn't say anything." Daryl stared at her pointedly and Carol huffed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "I'm not trying to turn Sirius and Harry away."

Daryl looked down at his hands and began picking at a fingernail. "You've still been kind of standoffish with them. They've been earning their keep."

"I'm not denying that."

Carol sighed and sat at the table, picking up a rabbit to begin skinning. Daryl sat across from her, doing the same. Maybe it was odd, maybe it spoke to the fact that violence was grounding for both of them, but they shared a lot of important conversations while skinning and dressing dead animals. They were quiet for a moment before Carol continued speaking.

"I don't think they're bad people," she said slowly, choosing her words. "And I don't believe they mean us harm. But good, helpful people who can do magic? Doesn't that strike you as a little too good to be true?"

Weeks ago, Daryl would have agreed with Carol wholeheartedly, but after spending so much time around Sirius and seeing how much fun Harry and Carl were having together, he had been forced to conclude that he was glad they'd shown up. "Maybe we're finally catching a break."

Carol raised her brows and gave him a skeptical smile that was bordering on pitying. "You don't really think we can be that lucky, do you? You know as well as I do that good things don't come without a price."

Daryl sighed, frustrated, dropping his rabbit on the table and lifting his hands in a defeated shrug. "So, what? We ain't supposed to try? Look at everything we've done making this place before they even came along. We already had a good thing and we've been making it even better."

"That's my point—we already have a good thing going, which we did have to pay a price for." She paused. Daryl knew they were both filling the silence with a list of the people who had died in the process of them taking and defending the prison: T-Dog, Lori, Andrea…Merle. "I don't want to push our luck by just accepting that we're somehow fortunate enough to have wizards fall into our lap without any consequences. They're bound to bring some kind of trouble for us sooner or later, whether they intend to or not, and I won't forgive myself if I get too complacent and something happens."

Daryl kept eye contact with Carol for another moment before returning his attention to the rabbit, trying not to feel guilty as he thought about what he and Sirius had possibly discovered around the clearing a few weeks ago. Once again, he found himself debating whether or not to tell her. He hated keeping secrets from Carol. He trusted her as much, if not more than, Rick, but she and Daryl both had changed a lot since leaving Hershel's farm. Where Daryl had slowly started getting better about letting other people in and accepting their help, Carol had become less trusting in others, more independent and keen to be proactive in the face of potential threats. If she knew that he and Sirius suspected dark wizards who wanted Harry and Sirius dead were out there, she would insist on making them leave the prison to prioritize the safety of their community.

Yet, with how long they'd gone so far without any indication of the presence of dark wizards, Daryl felt more assured that keeping his and Sirius' findings to themselves was the right move for everyone. Even if he knew Carol would disagree, Daryl also knew that his approach was in the best interest of the group, including her. He firmly believed having Sirius and Harry with them would keep them safer. If he didn't, he would have asked Sirius to leave himself.

"You're the last person here I'd call complacent," Daryl eventually said. "I ain't saying to let your guard down completely or turn a blind eye if you notice anything strange, but I think you oughtta enjoy the peace while we've got it. You're right—it probably won't last forever, whether it's because of Sirius and Harry or something else. Ain't that all the more reason to take advantage of it while it's here?"

Carol stared at him thoughtfully, still smiling somewhat sadly, but she almost looked proud now instead of pitying. "You're right. I'm just…" she sighed. "I'm not sure if I can. I will be more appreciative of Sirius and Harry, though. I know they've been doing a lot of good here. We've had more food, everyone's less tired and stressed, more alert and energized. I'll be nicer. I just…I won't stop staying ready. I can't."

Daryl nodded. "I'd never ask or expect you to."


The night before the Big Spot run, Carl was playing cards with Harry, Zach, Beth, and Patrick. With Harry being slightly closer to Zach and Beth's age, hanging out with them had become simpler than it had been before Harry arrived. And while Patrick still wasn't exactly Carl's favorite person, Harry was too nice to turn him away when Patrick shyly asked to join some of their activities. The five of them were the only teenagers at the prison, and Harry had brought them together as a regular group who were able to mesh well, whereas they had been quite fragmented without him. It was another thing Carl had come to appreciate about Harry.

Harry and Zach were both going on the run tomorrow. Beth wasn't adept enough with fighting and handling threats to go on runs and Carl was deemed by his father and the council as not old enough. They would have said the same of Harry, but since Harry could do magic, everyone agreed he was an asset. Carl wasn't jealous this time, though, the way he had been before the Target run, now that he knew magic was the only thing keeping them from being seen as equals. He wasn't going to fault his friend for that.

Zach had snuck into the community bottle of Jameson and poured a small amount into a water bottle, pouring half a shot's worth into both Carl and Harry's own water bottles and sharing the rest, about two shots' worth, with Beth. He had tried to pour the same amount he'd given Carl and Harry into Patrick's water bottle, but Patrick and waved his hands in front of him and politely declined.

"You can have a little bit as long as you don't snitch to anyone," Zach had told the boys with a mischievous grin, but his brows raised in warning.

"You're only letting us have about a sip," Carl had complained as he'd held his minute sample of brown liquid up to eye level. "Not exactly much for us to go bragging about."

"Jameson's strong and you're both younger and smaller. Even that tiny amount should give you a light buzz for a little while. I want you to have fun, but I'm not being responsible for either of you getting sick or doing something stupid."

"Fine," Carl sighed, knowing he needed to be grateful for what he was getting. He tipped his bottle toward Zach and said, "Thanks."

"Cheers, buddy," Zach replied, holding up the bottle he was sharing with Beth before taking a sip. Carl and Harry copied him as Zach handed the bottle to Beth. She held it and looked down at it for a moment before shaking her head and passing it back to her boyfriend.

"I don't want to yet," she said. "I don't want to be like how Daddy was before he got sober."

Carl expected Zach to argue and try convincing Beth that it would be okay, pressuring her, but instead, he nodded and said, "That's fair, no problem," before kissing her on the cheek. It made Carl respect him a little more.

The mild buzz Zach had spoken of kicked in fairly quickly, Carl feeling his head take on a slightly lighter feeling. He felt a little more carefree and confident around the older teenagers than he usually did and was laughing with them at ease. He was currently grinning as Harry, who also seemed somewhat more outgoing than usual, recounted a story about how his school rival had been turned into a ferret by one of his professors

"He made him bounce up and down between the floor and the ceiling until one of the other professors came over and made him stop," Harry laughed, everyone else echoing him.

"Sounds like the asshole deserved it," Zach said. "I knew a guy kind of like him at my school. One time he tried to get this other guy to come after me by saying I uh…gave dirty pictures to his girlfriend, but the guy caught him in the lie, told me about it, and the two of us teamed up to get the first guy in trouble. We dropped a water balloon on a teacher and made it look like it was him. He was so pissed that he punched a locker and broke two fingers."

Everyone laughed, including Patrick, though his laughter was a little more hesitant. "Remind me not to make you mad."

"Nah, I wouldn't do something like that to you, dude," Zach replied. "This guy was a chronic jerkoff and had it coming. I just wish I could have turned him into a ferret. Man, Hogwarts sounds fun!"

More laughter. Once Harry settled down a little, he said, "To be fair, the professor who did that turned out to be a Death Eater in disguise and tried to kill me at the end of the year."

Carl noticed him glance at Beth as if looking for a reaction. She threw her arms up incredulously and exclaimed, "How many people have tried to kill you?"

"Er…" Harry looked up at the ceiling and began ticking off fingers while mouthing to himself as if exaggerating trying to count would-be murderers. Everyone laughed even more. Carl noticed the broad smile that spread over Harry's face as he watched Beth giggling.

They soon turned to the topic of the Big Spot run, with Zach saying he would find some more alcohol to make up for the Jameson he'd taken. Beth rolled her eyes and commented that he should stay focused on the mission so that he didn't get hurt or killed.

"Aww, you're wooooorried about me," Zach sang goofily at her, acting a little sillier than usual.

Beth looked away from him, closing her eyes with a smile and turning her chin up. She imitated his singing tone. "Nope, I'm noooot."

Zach tickled her side, making her laugh as she playfully shoved him away. "You are. You're soooo worried." He made obnoxious smooching noises at her and stuck his face close to hers to be deliberately annoying.

"No," Beth giggled. "I'm just giving you advice. Most people die doing stupid things."

"Aw, babe, I'll be smart. I promise." Zach then turned from Beth to look at Harry, pointing at him. "Besides, I've got a wizard to protect me! You'll keep me safe, right, Harry?"

Zach and Beth both looked at Harry, waiting for an answer, Zach grinning and Beth holding her eyebrows up in placating exasperation. Harry looked taken aback for a moment before returning Zach's grin and saying, "Course I will!"

Zach looked back at Beth. "See? I'll be fine."

Beth leaned closer to him and tilted her head back and forth, maintaining her sing-songy voice. "I wasn't worried that you wouldn't be."

After their card game was over and everyone decided to disperse for bed, Beth touched Harry's arm while Zach was walking away and, quietly, said, "Please keep an eye on him."

Carl watched as Harry held her eye contact and nodded solemnly, as if she was tasking him with saving the world. "I will. I promise."

Beth smiled at him, said, "thank you," and walked off to bed.

Carl watched Harry watch Beth and then, when she was gone, said, "Dude, do you like Beth?"

"What?" Harry blushed. "Course not. She's with Zach." Carl tilted his head forward and raised his eyebrows at his friend. Harry sighed. "All right, maybe a little, but it's nothing serious. She's the only girl around near my age and it's…it's nice when she…"

"Pays you attention?" Carl supplied, trying not to smirk. He had once had a crush on Beth too, so he knew how Harry felt, but those feelings had faded the more they were around each other. She was pretty, kind, and had a way of seeing the best in everyone, and with how shitty everything else was in their world, it felt like an achievement to make someone like her smile. Carl knew she only ever saw him as family, though, and after getting over the initial sting of this realization, he came to understand what she meant and found he felt the same way. His dad had explained to him that, for the age Carl was at, his brain and body were wired to seek a "mate," and that since Beth was the only age-appropriate woman around, it made sense for Carl to eventually have a phase of liking her non-platonically.

"Well, yeah, but it doesn't mean anything," Harry replied. "Besides, Zach's a good guy. I'd never try anything to mess with that."

His sincerity was evident. Carl shoved him at one shoulder. "Don't worry, man. Your secret's safe with me…although you might want to hide it better. I can't help you if your own face gives you away."

Harry's eyes widened. "Was it obvious?"

Carl opted not to answer.


When Sirius woke the morning of the supply run, Harry was still asleep, snoring hard, his right arm and leg dangling off the side of the bed. Sirius couldn't help smiling a little. While he couldn't see inside Harry's head, he had grown adept at reading when his godson was resting peacefully and when he was having stressful dreams. He was glad to see that Harry currently appeared restful. When he was clearly having nightmares, Sirius always made sure to gently wake him, reassuring him that he was okay. He had attempted to get Harry to talk about his nightmares, but Harry rarely ever seemed up to it. Instead, he would ask Sirius questions about various lighthearted topics, making Sirius realize that his godson wanted a distraction. So Sirius would ramble on about something non-threatening or happy until Harry was ready to sleep again. Sometimes he recounted funny stories from when he, Lily, and the Marauders were at Hogwarts. Sometimes he went on about random things he had a lot of knowledge of, like his favorite dragon breed, the Hebridean Black.

Sirius still had his own nightmares, so he returned to his habit of casting a silencing charm before bed so that no one outside of their cell could hear them and worry. This didn't stop Harry from hearing Sirius mumble or yell in his sleep, though, which Sirius regretted. He was ashamed whenever Harry had to shake him awake, but he also observed that it seemed to make Harry open up more about his nightmares. So Sirius tried to swallow his pride and be honest with Harry about his dreams, at least sometimes. He didn't like his godson worrying about him and definitely didn't want him to take care of him when he was the adult, but if Sirius showing him some vulnerability helped Harry feel less alone, then he would do what he needed to do.

His smile faded when Harry's hanging hand caught his attention. From where he stood, Sirius could only see faint white lines against what was becoming tanned skin, unable to discern the words that were scarred there, but knowing what they were and why they were there. The thought still simultaneously sickened him and made his blood boil.

When Sirius had first spotted the scar while Harry wrote in his notebook, he had thought maybe the sun was reflecting oddly off of something, but then he spotted what were definitely letters and had impulsively grabbed Harry's wrist as his heart thundered in his chest.

Please no. Please don't be what I think it is.

But there had been no mistaking it. And Sirius had gone from enraged beyond belief that someone would do that to Harry, to hurt that Harry hadn't told him about his "detentions," to frustrated that Harry never put himself first and let someone else take care of him, to guilty for failing his godson yet again. When Harry had declared that he would prefer harming himself to losing him, Sirius had floated between being overcome with affection to berating himself for being too selfish to hand over the reins of Harry's care to someone more competent. And when Harry had doubled down on insisting he needed Sirius above anyone else, Sirius thought he was about to crumble. He couldn't believe he had the love of such a good, strong, and brave kid, and was scared that one day the universe would realize he didn't deserve it.

But he couldn't abandon him. He wouldn't. Sirius remembered how much he had needed someone to prioritize, protect, and look out for him, to love him, when he was young, and if Harry needed that from Sirius, there was no way he was going to deny him that.

He couldn't have been more honest when he told Harry how heartbroken he was to learn he'd been made to use a blood quill. He remembered several times throughout childhood and adolescence when his mother had forced him to use one. Any time Sirius argued with her or simply disagreed with her, any time he expressed any sort of fondness, curiosity, or even basic empathy or compassion for Muggles and Muggleborns, any time he followed his own path and deviated from what was expected of him, like when he was sorted into Gryffindor, his mother locked him in the den with Kreacher and made him write "I will not betray my family" over and over again for at least two hours. If he stopped for more than a minute, Kreacher was to report to Walburga, who would add an hour or deny him his next meal or chance to go to bed. The first times he was made to do this when he was seven, he had stayed as stoic as he could for as long as he could, but he would eventually succumb to tears after a couple of hours as his energy faded and the pain stung more persistently. When he got older, he got more used to it and tolerant of it, but afterward, his hand would ache so much that it was often rendered useless for days.

He remembered the first time his friends saw the lines and how embarrassed he was, he and James roaring at each other while Remus paced restlessly off to the side. James had wanted Sirius to tell someone, while Sirius had insisted on keeping the matter private. Remus had agreed with James, but couldn't get the point across any better than James could. They'd both dropped it for the most part at first, out of respect for Sirius' wishes to keep it secret and knowing they might exacerbate the issue if his parents learned people knew. They still tried to help, though. When Sirius returned to Hogwarts after summers at Grimmauld Place, Remus would inspect his hand and get him Murtlap Essence to soak it in if it looked tender. James, if he noticed Sirius favoring his left hand, would take it upon himself to carry things or complete tasks for him and feign deafness to Sirius' protests. During the winter holiday break of their third year, James' father caught sight of Sirius' hand when he was visiting them and helping Mr. Potter in the kitchen. From then on, Mr. and Mrs. Potter made every effort to get Mr. and Mrs. Black to allow Sirius to stay with them whenever possible, and they constantly reassured him he was always welcome, especially if he was ever in a bind.

Sirius liked to think he got the last laugh when it came to his scar, though. He had remained true to the words carved into his skin, just not in the way his parents had in mind. He had never betrayed the people he considered his real family, and that was something he could be proud of.

He wanted to make sure Harry had a good breakfast before the run, but they weren't leaving for a few hours still, so he let him sleep longer and went out to eat alone. Daryl was heading his way from the opposite direction as Sirius crossed the first floor of the cell block.

"Ya got something on your face," Daryl said by way of greeting. Sirius reached up and started patting his cheeks and chin. "My bad, it is your face."

Sirius plastered on a mockingly sympathetic smile. "Oh, Dare-Bear, I know it must be difficult to keep the will to live knowing you'll never look as good as me." He put a hand on Daryl's shoulder as they met up with each other. "Stay strong, mate."

"Pft." Daryl brushed Sirius' hand away and they headed outside together. Sirius was about to open the door until Daryl threw an arm in front of him to stop him. "Wait, it's not safe." Freezing where he was, Sirius instantly tensed up, trying to figure out what he'd missed that had caught Daryl's attention and readying himself for a fight. Daryl gave him a solemn look. "Sun's up. You go out there and you'll turn into dust."

A vampire joke. Dammit, that was actually a pretty good one. Not having a comeback, Sirius merely flipped up his middle finger and continued through the door as Daryl smirked triumphantly.

It was peak breakfast time, many people gathered around or walking toward the cooking equipment where Carol was preparing and handing out food, Patrick helping her. Several people offered quick thank yous to both Sirius and Daryl as they passed for bringing back so much food from their recent hunt. Daryl seemed awkward and uncomfortable with it, but Sirius enjoyed the recognition and grinned back at them with replies like, "Of course!" and "Happy to do it!"

They reached Carol, who fixed them each bowls of scrambled eggs and ground turkey. Sirius noticed that she offered him a strained, somewhat apologetic smile as she handed him his bowl. Harry told him weeks ago that Carol had expressed a general disdain for the two of them because she thought they would bring strife rather than help, and she definitely acted rather distant with them, while simultaneously casting them frequent distrustful glances. Not one for being passive but knowing he had to at least be somewhat cordial for Harry's sake, Sirius maintained a careful politeness around Carol unless she made a comment that he believed held derisive undertones. When that happened, he allowed himself one, maybe two snarky responses before walking away to avoid an argument and causing a scene. He wondered now if she had had a change of heart and was ready to bury the hatchet. Deciding to hope for the best, Sirius offered her a very tight smile of his own and gave her a short nod as he took the bowl from her.

Patrick hurried over and looked between Daryl and Sirius, babbling about how grateful he was for the food they had provided. The kid was so damn polite and a little overly eager as he told Daryl that he'd like to shake his hand. Daryl, who had been eating from his bowl by hand, made a show of popping each finger in his mouth to clean it of food before slapping the same hand into Patrick's for a short shake. Sirius couldn't help himself and let out a loud, bark-like laugh. Daryl's response reminded him of something James would have done.

Daryl walked away with Carol, who was also laughing (which Sirius appreciated) and Sirius returned his attention to Patrick. Though there was some surprise in his eyes, the kid's smile hadn't faltered.

"You want to shake my hand too?" Sirius asked. He stared at Patrick with the straightest face he could muster while pulling a handful of his scramble from his bowl and shoving it into his mouth so that his lips smeared against his palm.

Patrick chuckled and shook his head. "I think I'm good, sir. Good luck on the run today!"

Sirius gave him a mock salute before walking off with his food. What a good sport.


Carl woke later than he intended that morning, groaning as he reached for the alarm clock only to find it had been shut off, he assumed by his father. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had as much fun as he did last night, though, so he didn't feel too bad. He still hurried to get dressed and out to the pig pen.

Rick was already there, to Carl's dismay.

"You didn't wake me up," Carl said pointedly.

"That's because I knew you were up all night playing cards with your friends," Rick replied, though he didn't sound displeased by any means.

Carl grinned sheepishly as he moved over to the fence, where he realized Rick had been observing one of the pigs, who was lying down in the mud, looking uncharacteristically lethargic. "What's up with Violet?"

Sighing, Rick said, "Carl, I told you not to name them. They're not piglets anymore; they're food."

"I just thought…you know until—" Carl cut himself off with a sigh. "Okay."

Rick looked back over at Violet. "I don't know what's going on with her. Could be sick, could be nothing." He made clicking noises with his tongue and held out his hand to beckon Violet over, but she didn't respond. "Feel better…Violet." He grinned at Carl. "Come on, let's get to it."

Rick led him away, but Carl couldn't help glancing back over his shoulder at the pig with worry. He knew Violet's destiny was to die. He'd seen Charlotte's Web, after all. But she was supposed to die with purpose. If she died before it was time to slaughter her, would they still be able to eat her? Carl hated the idea of her dying for nothing.

After working on the crops with his dad for a while, Carl met up with Harry and Patrick and the three of them walked around aimlessly outside for a bit. Patrick was asking Harry questions about what types of classes he took at Hogwarts and what kinds of things they had to do for homework.

"We still do essays and quizzes and things," Harry explained. "We do most of the practical stuff during class."

"So what about grades?" said Patrick.

"Yeah, we get grades. Those are more points-based until fifth year, the year I just finished. Then you start getting letter grades. O for outstanding is the best. D for dreadful is the worst. Although I've heard there's one more below D: T for troll, but I'm not sure if that's a joke or not. I can't say if I've seen anyone get a T before."

"That's gotta be a joke," Patrick laughed.

Harry shrugged. "I've known stranger things to be true."

Carl groaned. "Why are we talking about school? It's one of the few things from before that I don't miss."

"But it's wizard school!" Patrick exclaimed. "How are you not curious about that?"

Carl let a wave of impatience wash over him. Patrick was nice, but he could be such a goody-two-shoes sometimes. "Because school is school no matter what. I want to know more about flying and Quidditch. You said you have your own broom and it flies? Is that something you buy, like a bike or a car, or can you grab any random broom around the house and enchant it to fly?"

"You buy them," Harry grinned. "There are all sorts of different makes and models like with cars, and they get upgraded over time the same way. Some are better quality than others. Mine's pretty good. Sirius got it for me for my thirteenth birthday."

Carl was about to ask more about the differences in broom quality and how it affected flying ability, but the sound of growls caught his attention as they wandered toward the fence, where a clump of Walkers had gathered on the outside. It struck Carl as strange, as Harry and Sirius had been preventing Walkers from reaching the fence for quite some time. In the last week, there had only been the occasional stray, lone Walker here or there that had made its way over to the fences. The last time Carl could remember seeing this many Walkers so close was at least two, maybe three weeks ago.

One visible reason the Walkers had found their way back seemed to be right in front of him. Lizzie, Mika, Luke, and Molly were at the fence, calling the Walkers different human names and giggling. The sight irritated Carl to no end. He hated that these kids were acting like the Walkers were people when they weren't anymore. It was disrespectful to the memories of the people the Walkers had been to pretend that the two were remotely the same when one was a monster and one was a person with loved ones.

"You're naming them?" Carl inquired as he, Harry, and Patrick approached. The kids turned around.

"Well," said Mika, who was incredibly sweet but way too innocent to understand the world's harsh realities, "one of them has a name tag, so we thought all of them should."

Carl didn't want to be mean, but he felt it was important to put these kids in their place. "They had names when they were alive. They're dead now."

"No, they're not," Lizzie argued. "They're just different."

This made Carl's blood boil. Lizzie was twelve, not much younger than him. There was about the same gap in age between her and Carl that there was between Carl and Harry, but Carl and Harry shared similar perspectives and an understanding of how life worked. Lizzie's maturity level was way below Carl's and she was adamantly against reality.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Carl said impatiently. He wasn't going to play along with her idiotic delusions and let her influence the younger kids to share them. She needed to understand. "Okay, they don't talk. They don't think. They eat people. They kill people."

"People kill people. They still have names."

Carl thought about people he'd seen who had turned, like Sophia. If Lizzie had been there when Sophia's Walker came out of that barn on Hershel's farm, would she have tried to play with it? Called it over by Sophia's name as if it was a dog and not a violent, flesh-eating corpse? He hated the idea of a Walker being associated with a kind, gentle person like Sophia, to have her death be treated in such an undignified way. "Have you seen what happens? Have you seen someone die like that?"

Lizzie stared at him, stony faced. "Yeah. I have."

"They're not people, and they're not pets. Don't name them."

Everyone was quiet for a moment as Carl and Lizzie glared at each other. After a moment, Lizzie said, "We're supposed to go read. Come on." She turned to leave and the other kids followed her. They were going to the prison library, where Carol regularly conducted story times for the kids.

Once they were gone, Carl released a sigh as the tension slowly ebbed from his body. Harry, looking uncomfortable, massaged the back of his neck. "Is she, er…all there?"

"Obviously not," Carl grumbled.

"No, I mean…does she have some kind of…illness? She seems like she honestly doesn't understand what the Walkers are."

"I think it's a defense mechanism," said Patrick. "Of course, she could have a psychological disorder, which would only be exacerbated by the trauma of living through an apocalypse. Seeing the Walkers as still somewhat human instead of thinking that the person who died is completely gone might be comforting for her."

Carl rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter why she's like that. She just needs to understand that it's wrong."

"What are you boys up to?" a voice called. Carl, Harry, and Patrick turned to see Sirius coming their way. He was smiling at them, but his smile faded as he seemed to look behind them and notice the Walkers at the fence. "Where'd all these Walkers come from? I just killed about a dozen of them a couple of days ago."

"The kids were calling them over," Harry supplied.

Sirius arched a brow. "Why would they do that?"

Carl found his irritation and frustration rising again as Sirius echoed his concern for what the kids were doing. Before he could get too angry again, though, Harry responded, "We were trying to figure that out."

"Hmm. Well…kids can be weird." Sirius shrugged. "Anyway, Harry, we have to get going. We can kill those on our way out."

"Right," said Harry. He looked at both Patrick and Carl, but his eyes landed on Carl. "See you later then. Try not to let Lizzie make you too crazy."

Carl couldn't help relaxing a little. "I won't."

After Harry and Sirius left, Patrick turned to Carl. "Hey, I think I'm gonna go join them for story time."

Carl could only smirk at Patrick, resisting the urge to make fun of him but knowing his expression said it all.

Patrick smiled and sighed. "I go sometimes. I'm immature. You wouldn't dig it. It's for kids."

At least Patrick was aware of who and what he was. Carl had to appreciate that. He looked down and nodded.

"I'll catch you later, young sir."

"Yep," Carl said as Patrick walked away. He stood there for a bit, thinking about what the future held for people like Patrick, whose acute awareness of reality made him too afraid to face it, and Lizzie, who was too trapped in her own reality to be fearful of the real threats around her. He couldn't help wondering with a somewhat morbid curiosity how long either of them would last in this world. He supposed it would depend on if their community lasted or was destroyed somehow. If the prison fell any time soon, Patrick would surely be a goner without someone else's protection, and Lizzie would probably get herself killed quickly trying to hug a Walker. Carl wished both of them would get a grip and change their perspectives before either of them could find themselves in a shitty situation, but he knew there was little he could do to help them.

It made Carl grateful that he'd had to grow up fast and that he was stable enough for his experiences not to have pushed him over the brink. He knew what he was capable of and that gave him confidence to take on whatever came his way.


Daryl and Zach were loading the last few guns into their respective vehicles when Beth came by. Zach instantly went up to her.

"Hey, I was just gonna come find you," he said. As the two kissed, Daryl had to roll his eyes and turn away so that they couldn't see how obnoxious he found them. "Just, you know, wanted to make sure that I saw you before I go."

Daryl cast a furtive glance in their direction to see Beth looking at Zach somewhat blankly. She shook her head and shrugged as if not understanding why seeing her before the run would be important to him, replying with a simple, "'Kay."

"Yeah, just 'cause, you know, it's dangerous, going out there."

Good lord, Beth, just tell the poor bastard what he wants to hear and put him out of his misery.

Beth breathed a short laugh. "I know." She kissed him on the cheek and began walking away, leaving Zach standing there looking somewhat hurt and dejected.

"Okay, you gonna say goodbye?" he called after her.

Beth kept walking and replied with an oddly chipper, "Nope!" without looking back or at Daryl as she passed him. He watched her, wondering what the hell her aloof demeanor was about and why she was playing it so cool with Zach.

"Damn romance novel," he scoffed as Sirius, Michonne, and Harry approached. "Y'all ready?"

"Yeah, there are some Walkers that came up to the fences," said Sirius. "We're gonna take those out really fast."

"I'll help," Michonne said.

Daryl couldn't help noticing Sirius glance at her with somewhat of a smirk as the three of them headed to the gate. He was even more surprised when he saw Michonne return the look, glancing sideways at him with her lip curled.

What the hell was going on around here?

After Sirius, Michonne, and Harry killed the lingering Walkers, everyone split up into different vehicles, Daryl deciding to take his bike for this trip, and they were on their way.

The Big Spot was smaller, but closer to the prison than the Target had been. They had mostly avoided it, though, because the property had been used as an army base, and had been fenced off with several Walkers trapped inside. Daryl had been thinking of ways to safely draw the Walkers away, but after Sirius and Harry had arrived, he figured they could help make that happen more easily and quickly with magic.

When they pulled up to the property, Sirius and Harry walked slowly along the fence, scanning their surroundings as they made their way around the fence's perimeter and then returned to the others.

"They're drawn to fire, right?" Sirius asked.

"Always seem to be, yeah," answered Daryl.

"So what Harry and I will do is go to the opposite fence and blast a hole in it for them to exit. There's a broken down car over that way—Harry will wait over there while I lead the Walkers there. I'll kill as many as I can until I get them closer to the car. Harry will set the car on fire. I'll add some enhancements of my own so that the fire burns longer. I'll also seal the opening in the fence so they can't get back in on that side. Then I'll cast what we call Disillusionment charms on the two of us and we'll sneak back over to you lot, make our own opening over here, and go inside."

Daryl tried to form a mental picture of what Sirius was describing and glanced over to the other side of the enclosed space. "What do Disillusion charms do?"

"They provide us with temporary camouflage, like a chameleon. We won't be invisible, but close. Our bodies will blend into the scenery around us."

That sounded cool as hell to Daryl. He thought about the plan some more and nodded. "All right. Just say something when you're back over here so you ain't sneaking up on us."

Daryl, Michonne, Glenn, Sasha, Tyreese, Zach, and Bob, who had insisted on joining the trip to help earn his keep, waited with their weapons while Sirius and Harry moved around the fence with their wands drawn. Daryl could hear a bang and saw the crowd of Walkers move across the enclosure. There was then a cacophony of whooshing and banging noises that Daryl had come to associate with the sound of spells being fired at Walkers from when Sirius and Harry would clear them out around the prison. It was difficult to see everything past the fences, abandoned army tents, vehicles, and, of course, the mob of Walkers, but Daryl caught glimpses of Sirius moving backward as the Walkers followed him. Soon after, there was a different type of whoosh that was immediately followed by the sight of a giant fire erupting across the lot. Daryl looked back to the enclosed space to see that almost all of the Walkers had left it and the last few were on their way out as well.

"We're moving toward you," he heard Sirius' voice say after a moment. "Don't lose your shit."

Perplexed, Daryl squinted at the space around him, trying to figure out where Sirius and Harry were. He saw something moving between him and the fence, but it only looked like a ripple through the air, like there was a clear, solid shape before him that he couldn't discern from his surroundings. Then, with an odd cracking sound, Sirius and Harry came into view, standing in front of him and the others.

"That was weird," Harry remarked in a casual way as if he was constantly being exposed to new, strange things every day, which, Daryl realized, he probably was.

"Right then," said Sirius as he moved over to the part of the fence the group wanted to go through, all business and seeming not to notice how everyone was staring at him and Harry. Even though they were used to seeing them do magic by now, whenever they did something new and more complex, it took a moment for Daryl and a lot of the others to process it. People like Bob, who hadn't been at the prison long and had arrived after Sirius and Harry, were still adjusting. Bob was currently laughing quietly to himself and slowly shaking his head back and forth. Sirius created an opening in the fence and all of them went through.

"All right," Daryl said, "Let's make a sweep, make sure it's safe. Grab what you can and we'll come back tomorrow with more people."

The group moved through the encampment, checking the tents and vehicles before going up to the front window of the store. Daryl banged his elbow against the window and told them to give it a moment to see if the noise drew any Walkers from inside the building before they went in.

While they waited, Zach played "What Did Daryl Do Before the Apocalypse," which was basically him taking another stab at Daryl's former occupation. He had been making guesses for a month and a half. Today's guess was homicide cop, which made Daryl laugh internally while Michonne laughed out loud. He decided to roll with it, though, and pull Zach's leg, talking about how he'd been undercover and seen heavy shit. Zach believed it for a brief moment before realizing Daryl was messing with him.

Daryl wished he could say that any one of Zach's guesses had been accurate. They were all better than the truth, which was that Daryl hadn't had a real occupation before the turn. He'd had an odd job here and there, but had mostly just followed Merle around and gone along with whatever schemes and scams his brother had brewed. He knew Zach would never guess the truth. He thought higher of Daryl than that.

On the one hand, the game was a somewhat shameful reminder of who he had once been, but on the other hand, it was good to know he was actually contributing to society now, even if it was a post-apocalyptic, Walker-ridden society. It also said something that Zach's guesses of Daryl doing such better things than what he actually had done were based on what Zach knew of who Daryl was now. He even wondered if, had the current him existed before the turn, he could have actually been some of the things Zach came up with.

Daryl was brought back to the present when a couple of Walkers smacked against the other side of the window behind him. He stood and led his team inside.


Harry followed the group into the store. He was at the back of their formation with Glenn and Sasha while Sirius, Daryl, and Michonne led up front. Zach, Tyreese, and Bob were in the middle. The Walkers that had come to the front of the store were quickly dispatched. Once the entire group was all the way inside, everyone branched off to collect what they were assigned.

Harry, who had been assigned various cooking utensils, simply went down the kitchen aisle and went down his list with a summoning charm. He had everything on the list stuffed in his bag within five minutes. He was allowed to look for anything else he personally wanted to bring back, but instead looked for Zach, deciding to stay close to him since he'd told Beth he'd keep an eye on him.

Zach was holding his flashlight up to a shelf as he slowly scanned it, glancing Harry's way with an appreciative smile as he approached. He was looking at different cords and batteries, nothing that Harry had any interest in. Even though he knew Zach was focused on his task, Harry thought he also looked unusually solemn.

"All right, Zach?" he said.

"Huh?" Zach spared another quick glance at Harry, but continued scanning the shelf as he moved slowly down the aisle. "Oh, yeah, just…I don't know." He sighed. "I'm not sure Beth's as into me as I'm into her."

Oh…great. "Course she is," Harry replied quickly, hoping he sounded confident. He snorted. "Can't turn a corner without finding you two snogging."

This time Zach's attention was pulled away enough from his task for him to make a face at Harry and shine the flashlight his way to see him better. "Snogging?"

"Er…kissing…a lot."

"Oh, making out," Zach chuckled, going back to his search. "Thought you were trying to say…well, something else."

Harry felt his face get warm. "No, no, definitely not."

"Yeah, I mean, she's definitely physically attracted to me—"

Harry grimaced.

"—but I'm starting to think she just wants to have fun. I'm…well…" He stopped, standing still for a moment before looking back to Harry and shining his light on him again. "I think I might…you know…love her."

For whatever reason, hearing this made Harry's heart sink. Here he was again, he realized, having a crush on someone who was already with a guy who was older, taller, better looking…He didn't think he'd been lying last night when he'd told Carl it was just a little crush that didn't mean anything, but he was surprised how sad it made him to hear that Zach was in it for the long haul with Beth. It wasn't as if Harry had thought they would be breaking up any time soon, but at least if their relationship was superficial, it didn't mean Harry was a hundred percent out of the running.

He mentally smacked himself. Get a grip. Zach's a good guy and you hardly know Beth anyway.

But there's something about her that makes me want to get to know her better.

Harry forced himself out of his thoughts, trying to come up with something to say to Zach. "So…you don't think she loves you back?"

Zach winced. "Not really. I mean…she didn't seem to care that I could die or get hurt out here today. Like…I don't really want her to be worried, but…it's like she couldn't have cared less if I make it back or not. You know?"

Harry thought about how Beth had waited until Zach wasn't around last night to ask him to watch his back. "I'm sure she cares," he said slowly, choosing his words. "Maybe she just…doesn't want you to know how much she cares?"

Zach looked pensive for a moment. "Maybe."

Before either of them could say another word, there was the loud crashing sound of something big falling over. Harry and Zach exchanged quick, wide-eyed stares of worry before they both bolted in the direction of the noise.


Back at the prison, Carl found himself somewhat bored. He was already done with his chores for the day and Harry and Zach were away. Patrick was at the stupid story time. Beth was reading and wanted to be left alone. He'd found his father and asked him if there was any more work he could help with, but Rick merely suggested going to story time. When Carl had rebuffed that that was for kids, his dad had given him a pointed look and an emphasized, "Yeah." Carl didn't bother to argue that he was only a kid by age, but that he was otherwise an adult.

He tried reading his comics for a bit, but he couldn't stay focused, finding himself too energized. Instead, he headed toward the library, not to hear stories, but to see if he could sneakily catch Patrick's attention from behind the bookcases and get him to ditch early and hang with him.

Carl was hiding, waiting for the right opportunity to get closer, to where Carol and the kids were, when Ryan, Lizzie and Mika's father, left. As soon as he was out of the library, Carol stopped reading and told the kids that today they were going to learn about how to use knives, letting Luke know to take watch. Carl inched closer to see Carol pull out a briefcase of various blades.

Before Carol could say too much, Patrick interrupted her. "Ma'am, may I be dismissed?

"What is it?" Carol asked.

"I'm not feeling very well."

Carl thought that was strange. Patrick had seemed fine an hour ago. Maybe the idea of having to ever potentially use a knife was upsetting his stomach.

"Sometimes you're gonna have to fight through it," Carol argued. "What if you wind up out there, alone? Will you just give up because you're feeling bad?"

Carl privately agreed with her.

"No, it's—it's just…I don't wanna yack on somebody," Patrick explained.

"Go."

Patrick got up and hurried out of the library before Carl could try to get his attention. He went back to watching Carol, who explained that the kids were going to learn about how to hold knives and aim them properly.

"Now, keep in mind, knives are great when you're attacked by Walkers, but if you ever come across a bad wizard, you either run or use a gun. And if a wizard ever is about to do you harm and you have a gun, you fire it right away. Don't try to negotiate with them because if they truly want to kill you, you'll need whatever chance you get to hurt them before they can shoot a spell at you. Remember, wizards will always have the upper hand."

Carl's jaw dropped. How could Carol possibly think it was okay to go behind the other parents' backs and teach their children how to use weapons? How to kill? And was she suggesting that the kids might have to defend themselves against Harry or Sirius? What if either of them had their wand out and one of these kids got the wrong idea and shot them because that's what they thought Carol meant for them to do? Why would she even bring up the possibility of facing a wizard when Harry and Sirius were the only wizards here in the first place? He agreed that they should learn more survival skills, but she was going about it all the wrong way.

He found himself standing before even consciously deciding to do so. Carol stopped talking when she saw him, and her face fell.

"Please…" she said, "don't tell your father."

Lost for words, Carl shook his head at her audacity and left the library.


Sirius had to say he was enjoying his day so far. Since Harry had still been asleep and Daryl had walked off with Carol, Sirius had sat by himself for breakfast and pulled out a book of crossword puzzles he'd found. He worked on a puzzle while eating, feeling like a somewhat normal person for once.

He'd been surprised when Michonne had voluntarily sat down across from him. Pointing at the book, she said, "May I?"

Sirius slid it over to her. "Knock yourself out. 6 down has had me stymied since yesterday."

While Michonne concentrated on the puzzle, Sirius finished his food, watching her curiously. After a few minutes, she smirked, sliding the book back over to him.

"Tabula rasa," she said. "It's Latin."

"Jesus Christ." Sirius whistled, impressed, staring down at the puzzle and confirming that she was right. "Where the hell did you learn that?"

Michonne grinned and gave him a nonchalant shrug. "I was quite the academic before the turn, believe it or not."

"I believe it," Sirius muttered.

"I gotta say, I never took you for the crossword puzzle type."

Sirius folded his arms in front of him on the table and leaned closer to Michonne. "What type do you take me for, exactly?"

"Hmm…at first, I would have said the obnoxious, rebel man-child type who just wants attention—"

Sirius smirked and raised his brows at her. "Interesting."

"But now…now I think you're the nerdy, obnoxious, rebel man-child type…who also still wants attention."

She laughed. Sirius leaned back with a sigh, stunned, and ran a hand over his face. This woman's wit was going to be the death of him. "Well, fuck me…"

Her features softened. "I'm only messing with you. I mean, I did think you were a bit of an obnoxious showoff at first."

"Blimey, I'm regretting even asking."

"But I realize now that you're more complex than that. You're thoughtful, protective, clever. You just want to help people, but you're so quick to go out of your way for others that it's almost like you're trying to make up for something."

Sirius went from being a mixture of embarrassed and amused by Michonne's original assessment of him to tense and uncomfortable with how exposed he now felt. He did constantly feel a need to make up for things, like telling Snape about how to get into the Whomping Willow as a kid (his guilt about that was for how the consequences could have affected Remus, not for putting Snape in danger), letting James and Lily down with his foolish plan to switch Secret Keepers, going after Peter instead of refusing to hand Harry to Hagrid as a baby and keeping him close, plus the numerous other ways he'd failed Harry over the years. He struggled to figure out what to tell her. Before he could come up with anything, she reached her hand across the table and touched his hand, her eyes staring into his too perceptively.

"You don't have to explain anything," she said. "I know we've all got…stuff. Pieces of ourselves we wish we could leave behind, but that still gnaw at the corners of our minds. I just want you to know that, who you are now, that's all that matters, and, well…I think who you are now is all right, for what it's worth."

Sirius relaxed at hearing that. He thought it was worth a lot.

Later that day, when he, Harry, and Michonne had gone outside the prison fence to clear the Walkers there, he had found himself paying less attention to his task and more attention to how adept Michonne was at killing Walkers. She almost made it into an art, her katana swinging swiftly at sharp angles and slicing into heads and necks with such precision. She went from Walker to Walker with little pause in between, her arms gliding through the air and her body rotating with an astute grace as she changed targets.

"Oi!" Harry had called, snapping Sirius back to the present in time to see a Walker's head explode right in front of him, Harry having killed it before it could reach Sirius. Michonne glanced their way to make sure they were okay before returning her focus to the two remaining Walkers before her. Harry killed one more Walker before glaring at Sirius and shrugging as if to say, "What gives?"

Sirius grinned sheepishly at his godson and patted his shoulder gratefully before the three of them made their way into the SUV.

Now, they were in the Big Spot. Sirius had gone off on his own to find the items on his list, which, like Harry, took almost no time since he used a summoning charm. He did spend a few minutes checking out different Muggle items he wasn't familiar with, trying to think if there was anything in particular he should grab for himself or Harry. He couldn't think of anything, so he allowed himself to wander the store, checking for any threats and making sure everyone was safe.

He spotted Glenn near some photography equipment and decided to check in with him. Sirius and Harry had shared a vehicle with Glenn and Michonne, and Sirius recalled noticing that Glenn seemed a little preoccupied and quieter than usual. Now, he was standing there, staring at a poster advertising different photo packages that centered around newborn babies. Glenn turned around and jumped slightly as he almost walked into Sirius.

"Jesus, man," Glenn chuckled. "Way to sneak up on me."

Sirius looked at the poster behind Glenn before looking back at him. No way…

Careful to keep a hushed tone, Sirius said, "Are you…are you and Maggie pregnant?"

Glenn's eyes widened in horror and he quickly looked around as if checking to see if anyone else was nearby, then whispered, "Yes, okay? Please don't tell anyone. We don't want to make a big deal out of it in case…" he sighed. "In case it doesn't work out."

"Mate, you're going to be a father," Sirius said, still keeping quiet, but his voice full of enthusiasm. "That's something to celebrate!"

Glenn shook his head. "Pregnancies were risky enough before. Now, with so many threats out there, no hospitals, limited resources. Not to mention what happened with Lori…I'm just having a hard time seeing this as good news."

Sirius was hit with a pang of sympathy for his friend. Yet, he still couldn't help but be overcome with joy for him, and for Maggie. They were both good people and he knew they would be excellent parents. He understood the fear, though. He'd be scared shitless if it was him. Hell, he was already scared of losing Harry, who was as competent of a teenager as one could ask for. Once again, he recalled his conversation with Rick about everyone helping each other when it came to the kids.

Sirius cupped a hand around the back of Glenn's head and made sure to hold his gaze. "Listen to me…if anyone in this godawful world is going to have a baby that not only survives, but thrives, it's going to be you and Maggie. You're both strong, intelligent, and kind. I've seen the way both of you handle shit, and you do it beautifully. You can do this. And we will all help you. I promise."

Glenn's eyes seemed to search Sirius' as if trying to determine how sincere he was being. Then, his lips pursed, he nodded. "Okay…okay." His voice came out in a somewhat hoarse croak that Sirius knew had nothing to do with trying to stay quiet. "Thanks, man."

Sirius smiled at him, removing his hand from Glenn's head to pat his shoulder. He decided to go see how Harry and Michonne were doing. He paused at the end of one aisle to see Harry with Zach, having a quiet conversation. He decided to give them space and look for Michonne.

He spotted her having a standoff with the cardboard cutout of some kind of goofy, undead monster (because "monster savings!") before she swung her katana down through the monster's head and sliced it in half.

He cleared his throat to let her know he was behind her. "Rude."

"I'm rude?" Michonne said, sounding offended. "He was staring at me and startled me." She pointed at the remains of the cardboard cutout on the floor.

"I don't know." Sirius moseyed over to her, hitching his bag more comfortably on his back before stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Seems like he was minding his own business to me. Besides, I didn't take you as the type of woman to be startled so easily."

Michonne's eyes lit up mischievously. "What type of woman do you take me for, exactly?"

Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but froze at the sound of something large and heavy falling down with a crash. He ran toward the sound immediately, Michonne hot on his heels.

Not again.


Harry and Zach reached the source of the disturbance at the same time as Daryl and Tyreese. Two shelves of wine bottles had fallen over, apparently trapping Bob. Unlike with Daryl at Target, the tops of these shelves had landed on a stack of boxed beer, leaving a large gap beneath it. Harry was experiencing a strong sense of deja vu.

Daryl crouched down at the gap's opening, shining his flashlight on and around Bob. "You all right? You cut or something?"

"No, man, but my foot is caught," Bob replied, his voice shaking somewhat.

"All right, as long as it's just caught."

"Here, I've got it," Harry offered, holding up his wand.

Someone, Glenn by the sound of it, called, "What happened?"

Zach yelled, "Everyone's all right. We're over at wine and beer."

"Wingardium leviosa," said Harry, magically lifting the first shelf off of Bob as Daryl, Zach, and Tyreese pushed it upright the rest of the way. Meanwhile, Sirius and Michonne came running over, skidding to a halt.

"Man, you lucked out," Tyreese told Bob as he crouched down to his level. "If this thing had come down on you the wrong way…"

"Move," Harry breathed. Tyreese got out of the way as Harry pointed his wand at the second shelf. "Wingardium leviosa."

His incantation was spoken in unison with Sirius somewhere behind him. Harry had a rush of gratitude, as their combined casting of the spell made the shelf lighter and less work to lift.

Before it could get up all the way and Bob could crawl free, a Walker crashed through the ceiling without warning, dangling from its intestines right in front of Harry, who instinctively jumped backward to avoid the Walker along with any of the wreckage that fell.

Sirius came rushing to his side to pull him away, the two of them gawking up at the hanging Walker. Their magic having been disrupted, the shelf fell back over Bob, trapping him once again. Everyone else had hurried over and the whole group was staring at the Walker with surprise and disgust.

"Yeah, uh, we should probably go now," said Glenn.

"Bob's still stuck," Daryl said. "Get him out of there!"

Then, before anyone could make another move, two more Walkers fell through the ceiling from different spots, these two actually making it to the floor. One by one, more Walkers followed suit, scattered across the store.

Everyone moved in separate directions to begin fighting them off. Harry saw one quickly approaching him and shouted, "Depulso!" It went flying backward out of sight. He looked to Sirius, who was killing Walkers from another direction. "We've still got to get Bob out!"

"You get the shelf off of him," Sirius instructed. "I'll cover you."

Harry nodded. He swallowed and said the incantation again, making the shelf slowly move upright. He could hear gunshots and spells banging and whooshing all around him, along with the growls of several Walkers. He forced himself to concentrate on getting the shelf away from Bob and ignored the threats his godfather and friends were fighting from every direction. More Walkers continued to fall through the ceiling, which began to groan and creak as if surely about to cave in. It sounded as if something heavy was slowly sinking through.

Harry had the shelf high enough for Bob to crawl away and held it aloft until he was free, letting it fall with a heavy thud. Bob hurried to his feet and yelled as a Walker came rushing up to him before he could gain his bearings.

"Reducto!" Harry blew up the Walker's head, spraying Bob with blood and matter. He looked around to see where everyone was. Sirius had moved farther away to help Daryl and Glenn with handling a crowding cluster since Harry and Bob were relatively safe. Everyone else sounded like they were closer to the front of the store other than Zach, who was heading toward Harry from the opposite direction with his gun drawn. A large chunk of ceiling fell between them. At this point, the sky was almost completely exposed.

"We gotta go!" Harry yelled to Zach, who nodded and began to weave around the chunk of ceiling to follow Harry and Bob. Harry made to continue onward as Bob passed him, eyes darting around for nearby Walkers, when he heard a surprised yelp behind him.

Turning around, he saw Zach fall to the floor as a Walker grabbed his ankle from beneath the bookshelf and pulled him down. Zach's eyes were wide with fear as he kicked at the Walker while another Walker rushed toward him from off to the side.

Harry froze, his heart suddenly beating extremely hard and fast and his limbs becoming heavy out of nowhere. Where Zach was sprawled on the floor ahead of him, flailing as he tried to break free from the Walker's grasp, Harry now saw Cedric falling, still as stone after being hit with a jet of green light. He saw Cedric's wide, lifeless eyes instead of Zach's fearful but determined ones. Harry couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't breathe.

Zach was about to die, right in front of Harry, just like Cedric.

The Walker coming from the side was bearing down on Zach, about to devour him right then and there, and Harry just watched, a vague voice in the back of his head screaming at him to do something, to lift the wand hanging limply from his hand and kill the Walker before it could reach his friend. But it was like Harry couldn't get his body to listen, like it was weighed down underwater by bricks while he desperately pleaded with himself to swim to the surface.

Zach's eyes caught his as he called Harry's name. Zach's eyes, alive and full of fear and hope, still here, still savable. It woke something in Harry, something fierce.

I am not letting this happen again!

"Depulso!" The Walker that was about to sink its teeth into Zach's neck went flying backward. Harry shuffled sideways for a better angle and pointed his wand at the trapped Walker's decaying wrist. "Diffindo!"

The Walker's hand was severed from its wrist and Zach scrambled away and up to Harry. Everyone else hurried over, Daryl yelling, "Let's go! Let's go!" and Sirius grabbing Harry's arm and pulling him with him as the rest of the ceiling caved in. Harry reached behind him with his free arm and grabbed a hold of Zach's, making sure he was with them.

The entire group ran out of the building alive and in one piece just before it could collapse entirely.