Wish Magic

by RuneGenesis

Summary:

Harry died and woke up in a hospital. When Death offers the Next Great Adventure, Harry did not expect this.

Notes:

This is NOT beta'd (besides me) and I only watched the first season(ish) of the TV show. I wrote the entire thing on my phone and just decided to go ahead and post it. I had a burning need to write this. I don't have any current plans to expand but I do have a few ideas floating around.

Hope you like it!

Harry didn't expect this when he took up Death's offer for the next great adventure after he died. Harry can't remember how he died, he only remembers opening his eyes on the train. When Harry tries to give back the Deathly Hallows, Death instead reveals that Harry is its true Master now and that the Hallows will only return to Harry. In living his life, Harry had never misused them, he willingly gave up the power they present for peace and after death, trying to return the Hallows freely and without prompt… well, Harry had unintentionally checked all three boxes off for the title. Death had remarked it was like Harry was meant for the role. 

Harry didn't much like that bit. 

Day 13

So, after Harry accepted, he woke up in this world. He had been in the hospital for a concussion from an accident that took the lives of his family, the Dursleys. Harry isn't that broken up about it. They were apparently in the States for a vacation and the Harry of this world was dragged along. Vernon's sister was apparently on her way to come deal with her brother's remains and take Harry home. 

Harry found his clothes he was brought to the hospital in. They were in a clear plastic bag on the table in the corner. He didn't think he'd be allowed to leave under his own volition, so he planned. 

Day 14

Harry dressed and snuck out of the hospital near dawn, right before shift change when the nurses were exhausted from a long night. He wandered the streets for a few hours, not knowing what to do or where to go. Harry is so out of it, he doesn't realize what's going on around him. 

Then, someone tackles the person in front of Harry. It startles the teen's focus back into reality, just in time to hear the scream in high definition. The sound makes pain lance through Harry's head. They whip around and bite another person that moved forward, trying to help. More people are coming around, everyone is biting each other. Harry, in shock and still concussed, hugs himself tightly and stiffly keeps walking. 

"They're coming! Run!" Someone yells. Harry yelps as his arm is grabbed, nails digging into his arm. There's a woman sobbing nearby, screams rendering the air. Snarls and yells, terrified yelps and horrified gasps. Harry doesn't know what's happening, unable to pull away from the strong grip on his arm. Everything seems distorted, Harry's head starts hurting from trying to figure it out. 

A door sharpens in his focus. Harry is pushed into the building, the door closing behind him. He glimpses the face of a man he doesn't know. For that split second, the image of Death imposed over the stranger's features, like the man's skin and muscles became abruptly translucent. Then the door is shut and barred, two older men desperately securing the door. Harry slumps and passes out.

Day 17

Harry didn't know what was going on. 

He was holed up in a bank , of all places, pulled in by a wave of frantic people trying to get away from the things eating other people. The start of all this was tense and chaotic but now, almost three days later, everyone is hungry and quiet. Even the two blokes fighting over leadership are quiet and withdrawn. 

Harry can hear those things outside. He doesn't know what they are; inferi he can sense and these are not inferi. The baby deeper in the building whines for food. Harry guesses the mom ran out of milk. That poor baby. 

"Someone needs to go out for s-supplies," Jay said into the silence. Harry doesn't like the bloke; he wants to be the boss but he's too terrified to even look at the windows and doors. Jay is balding badly, portly and rather sweaty. His clothes seem more on the bland side, plaid and corduroy. 

"Are you volunteering?" Henry spits back, not even having the energy to glare at the other man. Harry doesn't like him either. The aging man is judgy and greedy, often inciting racist arguments with the only black man in their midst. More than once he's been told to shut the fuck up by nearly everyone. 

Jay doesn't say anything else. Harry sighs again and stands. He knows there's a side door here somewhere. The kid across from him, Jimmy, stares with wide, dark eyes as Harry steps around him and his mom, Gabby. Harry sends the boy a comforting smile and heads deeper into the building. 

Jimmy is a shy brown haired child that often asks Harry to tell him a story. After Gabby's exhausted, hopeful look, Harry caved and recited some of his first year adventures. Of course, with a character named James instead. The stories seem to comfort the boy amidst all the terror and uncertainty. Even as the little boy began asking why there wasn't any food. 

There are ten people in the bank. Jay and Henry, the two old farts vying for the coveted leadership position. Why there needs to be a leader, Harry doesn't know. Gabby and her toddler, Jimmy. Sarah and her baby, Tom. Matthew, a dark haired, black skinned man with square glasses and full beard. He prefers to be alone, spending most of his time in one of the privacy rooms, which is no wonder with Henry being an arse. Chase, a rambunctious guy probably a decade Harry's senior, with blond hair and green eyes. Harry finds him rather empty headed but nice. Eric is the only other teenager, though a few years older than Harry. He prefers to spend his time hanging out with Chase. 

There was some desperate banging on the front door the first day but nothing since. Henry outright refused to let anyone in, fearing that one of those things will get in. Harry would have raised a ruckus over it but he had a hard enough time focusing that first day. Still does, if Harry is being honest. His head will pulse oddly but at least he can string two words together now. 

They found a few snacks in the break room and the offices but they didn't last first contact. Henry was especially voracious, looking into every nook and cranny. But now all the food is gone. The water stopped working a few hours ago and even Harry didn't think to bottle any. If someone doesn't do something, this place will be a tomb instead of shelter. And by someone, Harry usually means himself. 

Harry noses around until he finds a backpack. It's not in the best condition but it will have to do. He empties all the pockets carelessly and swings it on. His heart starts pounding with how stupid he's being as he heads back to the room with the lady and baby. 

"Hey, Sarah," Harry says quietly, startling the woman from her blank eyed state. She looks at him wordlessly. Harry thinks she recently lost someone important to her because she rarely speaks and she's usually crying. "I'm going to try to look for some… I don't know, food? Water? Is there anything I can look out for, for you?" 

The question seems to draw her a little more out of her head, "Wait, don't go. It's-" 

Harry shook his head and stepped into the room, "No one else wants to go and we need food. Your baby needs food. Someone needs to go."

"Why-" She cuts off and withdraws into herself, shaking her head. 

The teen shrugs, "I'm fast. I'll be okay. Do you need-?"

"Formula. It will have a baby's face on it." Sarah's lips are quivering from basically sending a kid to his death for formula . "You're a good kid, Harry."

Harry smiles uncomfortably, "I'm going to leave out the door at the end of the hall. If I knock like this," Harry knocks a basic memorable pattern. "Can you run over and let me in?" 

Sarah nods fervently. Harry repeats the pattern as she follows him down the hall. She smiles at Harry as he slips out quietly, the door cutting off both of them from each other. 

Harry hikes his pack up and sneaks down the alley. He peeks out, seeing a few of those things shuffling around. None of them pay him any mind. Harry sneaks around the corner, spotting a convenience store down the block a ways. It rests on the corner on the end, windows dirty long before stuff went bad. Harry can't see inside them and after one of those things turns to walk towards him, Harry decides to risk it. He opens the door, the lock not engaged and peaks inside quickly. Nothing moves, so Harry slips inside and locks it. 

He stays still for a few terrifying moments, expecting something to come out of the darkness at him but nothing moves. Slowly, Harry relaxes, standing fully to take in the dark interior. He steps around the tills, his hand hitting a sign display over. As he stops to look, something snarls and Harry jerks back in terror as one of those things comes out of the backroom behind the tills. It moans as it shuffles closer but as Harry's breathing picks up and he steps away, the thing doesn't follow him. It instead stands blankly where the sign fell, stilling almost entirely. It gurgles absently, jaw moving up and down as if chewing on gum. 

Harry slowly calms, stepping back and wincing as something cracks under his foot. The sound draws its attention and it lurches towards where Harry used to be, the teen having skipped over a few feet to gain distance. Again, it stands there absently. Harry musters his Gryffindor courage and hesitantly approaches it. It ignores him or doesn't know Harry is there, Harry can't say but it does embolden the teen to reach out. He pokes it in the arm and jerks out of reach as it whirls around. It looks right at Harry then… but like Harry is invisible, the milky, red rimmed eyes slide away. 

It stills again, absently biting nothing. 

Well, okay. For some odd reason, they can't seem to sense Harry unless he's being loud. Maybe it's his magic. He did drop years in age when he came to this world. With no wand, he's limited in his magic usage but even if he did, there isn't much natural magic here . Maybe it has to do with Harry being the Master of Death . Could be anything, really. 

Harry shrugs, he isn't taking this boon lightly. No worrying about being eaten makes this significantly better. He shrugs off the bag and unzips it, perusing the aisles for goodies. A lot of it has been looted already but Harry does get lucky with a can of formula. The tin is small and bent but the seal is intact. He shoves it into his bag, along with all the other food items he can find and fit. He doesn't manage to find any water until he takes a peek into the back room. Half a case of water sits under the desk of the cramped office. Harry gladly liberates the life giving liquid. 

There is still quite a bit left here but Harry cannot carry any more. He takes a moment to eat his fill from what he isn't taking, needing the energy boost. The feel of food and water in his stomach feels good after three days of hopeless terror. Harry didn't get a chance to even look, too out of it and nauseated to move for the first few hours after waking. 

As Harry is about to leave, he hears someone scream nearby. Heart in his throat, he pulls the door open and peeks out. Just in time to get a front row seat to some woman being overwhelmed by the hungry dead. Her scream cuts off at a gurgle, staring at Harry with accusing eyes as the thing at her throat tore a chunk out. Harry's mouth drops open but just a shaky exhale leaves it. He feels the rejuvenating food churn in his stomach and has to force the nausea down to keep from wasting the precious sustenance. Further down the street, a man runs away desperately. 

The woman exhales abruptly, a spew of blood flying out. A few drops land near Harry and it's enough to get him out of his startled reverie. Giving the now dead woman a pitying look, Harry slips out and sneaks back to the bank. He shakily bangs the rhythm out and waits, heart thundering. He feels so anxious that the walls seem to close in on him. The eyes of the woman flash through his mind and he just about starts banging on the door again when it opens. 

Sarah's relieved face is replaced with concern as Harry ducks under her arm to get inside. 

Harry presses the bag into Sarah's hand and shakes his head at her insistent questions. He can't talk right now. That girl keeps flashing in his mind's eye. Why did Harry stop to eat? If he had left when he was originally going to… would he have found that girl? And for that matter, would she still be alive? Harry knows he bears no responsibility but his saving people thing is hitting him hard and he doesn't have the patience for anyone right now.

Harry finds a tight hole to squeeze into. It ends up saving his life. 

The world suddenly roars out, explosions and tremors, walls cracking and dust falling. Harry screams, genuinely terrified, as the world seems to end around him. 

Jimmy's screams eventually pierce through Harry's addled mind. Harry scrambles from his hiding place, his need to hide being overridden by his need to save . He uses the wall to steady himself through the tremors and blasts, a wall of heat preceding the horror that awaits him. 

As Harry steps out from the back halls, his jaw drops in horror. Nearly the entire front wall is gone , a gaping hole letting in corrupted sunlight from the thick, black smoke clogging the skies. Those things are crawling over the raging fires, uncaring of the flesh that burns, eager for the meal practically ringing the dinner bell. 

Everyone had congregated in the main room to rifle through the supplies Harry brought back. Gabby lay prone over Jimmy, protecting the little boy from the blast. Harry doesn't know how but he knows she's dead. Everyone but Jimmy is dead. As the first of the dead reach Henry's mangled form, teeth digging into still warm flesh, Harry springs into action. The teen runs to Jimmy, whispering reassurances to the little boy in hopes of calming him down as he extracts the toddler from under his mother. Harry studiously holds Jimmy's face to his neck, keeping the little boy from seeing the full extent of the genocide that just occurred. 

Harry stands just as one of those things reaches out to grab Jimmy's leg, it's nail cutting the fragile skin easily. Jimmy whimpers and pulls up his legs, starfishing Harry so hard the teen doesn't have to hold him. Harry kicks the head harshly in spite and steps around it. He leans over for the bag, zipping its untouched contents shut and shouldering it forlornly. Keeping Jimmy's head hidden, Harry carefully picks his way through the rubble, the tremors having lessened significantly as the blasts withdrew further away. 

The streets are destroyed. Harry can barely take in the sheer level of destruction; he was on this street barely half an hour ago. It had been overrun and dirty but still a street . Bodies litter the ground, hiding the asphalt from view, blackened to a crisp by raging fires. Harry stands on the top step of the bank and takes everything in blankly. He feels his pre-Voldemort-demise mindset settling in; find shelter, find food, recuperate, train, survive . 

Jimmy whimpers, having peeked out and disliking what he saw, hiding again. Harry wishes he could do the same. 

Harry shakes his head, head throbbing but focus sharpening. He can think later. Act now. 

The teen rubs Jimmy's head for comfort, "Hey, Blue-Jay," Harry called him that because Jimmy likes the color blue… like, a lot . Jimmy peeks up at him, large brown eyes trusting. Harry gives him a comforting smile, "Can you do something for me?" 

Jimmy nods and Harry's smile grows proudly, "Can you be super brave and stay super quiet for me? Can you do that?" 

"What about mommy?" Jimmy asks in a whisper. 

Harry's lip trembles and grief nearly overwhelms him. Harry may not have known Gabby for very long but the woman was very kind to Harry from the very first moment. She liked that Harry paid attention to the toddler, entertaining him with stories to keep the little boy happy and content. Gabby shielded Jimmy from the blast… she was a good mother. 

"I'm sorry, Blue-Jay," Harry says, pressing a kiss to Jimmy's head. "She won't be coming."

Harry isn't sure if Jimmy fully understands. The toddler gives a sad look and tucks his face back into Harry's neck. Taking that as Jimmy's promise to stay quiet, Harry picks around the unmoving corpses, kicking the more suspect ones to make sure they won't be reaching out for him. The last thing he needs is to startle and drop Jimmy into the jaws of one. 

After half an hour, Jimmy's grip starts lagging. Harry gets them to a relatively clear spot on the street, gently placing the boy on his feet and shrugging off the backpack. With some careful maneuvering, Harry uses the backpack as a makeshift carrier. Jimmy's legs loop through the straps on either side, the bottom tightened and tied together to form a makeshift seat. The top was a little more loose but still snug, keeping the toddler in place. It will do for now until Harry can find some suitable - intact - shelter. 

Harry coughs again, his throat aggravated by the thick smoke. Jimmy isn't faring any better. Thankfully, it seems Harry's invisibility extends to persons near him because none of the things walking around even look at Jimmy. Even when the little boy just can't contain his coughs. 

Harry worriedly peaks over his shoulder at his young charge, eyes glassy and face so pale, Harry can see the veins. 

Harry's sharp hearing picks up sobbing somewhere nearby. Biting his lip, Harry ultimately decides to check it out. Behind the nearest truck is a little brown skinned girl, sobbing over the remains of what looks to be her parents. 

Harry freezes in shock as he notices the man twitching. The little girl doesn't notice, too lost in her grief, face hidden in her hands. The man's eyes open, pale and red ringed. Harry jerks into motion too late, grasping the back of the girl's shirt just as the man grabs her arm and yanks, biting down. The girl, now acutely terrified, screams, high pitched and deafening. Harry sways from the pain, his own head ringing. The thing pulls off to bite down into the meatier part of her upper arm and Harry yanks her away from it entirely. It abruptly loses interest in them , even though it sniffs about its immediate area intently. It finds the prone form of the woman laying next to it and eagerly digs in. 

Harry pulls the sobbing girl into his arms. She comes up to his chest. Jimmy whimpers quietly, doing an admirable job at being brave. Harry rips the bottom of his shirt and wraps it around the girl's still bleeding bite. She winced and sobs. "Hey, hey, you're okay. What's your name?" The material is immediately soaked in blood. 

Her sobbing tapers down a bit, her glassy eyes riveted on the thing that had probably been her father, "Zoey."

Harry smiles at her - not that she sees it - and ties off the makeshift bandage. It will have to do until he can figure something else out. He holds her arm, palms cupping the bite and the opposite site and fervently wishes it doesn't get infected. "Okay, Zoey, my name is Harry and this is Jimmy. Were those your parents?" 

Zoey finally drops her gaze, fresh globs of tears falling. She sniffs to no effect, her nose completely stuffed and nods. 

"I'm sorry, Zoey," Harry says compassionately, his words prompting more and more tears. "I know it's hard but you need to leave them. Your daddy would never have bit you like that. Can you trust me?" 

Zoey finally looks at Harry, brown eyes searching and nods. Harry proffers his hand and Zoey takes it, giving her parents one last mournful look. 

Harry knows it's late. It's hard to tell with the black smoke clouding the skies but he knows it was late before all this started. Jimmy went limp after another hour, Harry figures the little guy took a nap. He and Zoey continued their trek for another half an hour before Harry finally found an intact, structurally sound house. There were others on the block but Harry had a good feeling about this one. 

Harry kept Zoey close to his side as he slowly and thoroughly cleared the house. Then he had her hold onto his shirt as he barred the front and back doors. Jimmy was feeling suspiciously warm and Harry was starting to feel worried about the little guy's nap. Once the windows were secured, Harry led Zoey upstairs, delighted to find running water. It's cold but perfect, raiding a closet for a cloth to soak. Then he pulls Zoey into one of the rooms with a large bed and locks the door, barring it with another dresser. 

"Here, can you hold this?" Harry asks politely, depositing the half rung cloth in her waiting hand with a smile. "Thank you."

Harry carefully maneuvers Jimmy into the bed, taking in the boy's flushed cheeks and clammy skin with worry. Now that he isn't pressed into Harry's back, his breathing is clearly wheezy and stressed. Harry shifts Jimmy's small body with care so he's laying properly but in doing so, his eyes land on something worrying. 

On the back of Jimmy's leg is a scratch, the very same scratch that thing made. Only, the small wound is very much larger and very much infected, oozing black liquid and widening a few more inches from inflammation. Harry didn't notice it got that bad in the couple of hours since leaving the devastated bank. Harry had asked him to be quiet so he kept his pain to himself and now the wound is so bad, Harry isn't even sure how to fix it. 

Zoey is watching, her face blank as she takes in the exact same thing Harry does. She shifts her eyes to him, somehow wordlessly portraying her need for Harry to do something . But Harry doesn't know what to do. He knows basic healing spells but he can't cast any without his wand and even if he could, the wound is severely infected and would only push the infection into the blood. 

Harry does the only thing he can. He takes the cloth and he sets it on Jimmy's head. Then, he places his hand on Zoey's head, gaining her attention, "Watch him for me, please? I need to go grab a few things. I'll be just down the hall and downstairs, okay?" 

Zoey looks terrified but she swallows and nods, gamely setting aside her terror to take her duty well. Harry rewards her with a smile and then he goes to the door. 

After unbarring the door, Harry investigates. Thankfully, whoever lived here didn't take anything with them. Harry determinedly does not think of why . He finds an actual first aid kit under the bathroom sink. He tucks his precious find under his armpit and runs down to the kitchen, finding a large bowl and filling it with water. Then he takes both the bowl and kit back up to the room. 

Jimmy isn't looking any better when Harry returns. He casts a wordless, wand less basic perimeter charm around the exterior of the house to act as warning and risks keeping the door clear just in case. Zoey is right where Harry left her, her eyes focused on Jimmy. She doesn't even glance over at Harry as he returns. 

"Any change?" Harry whispers as he sets the bowl on the bedside table and sets the first aid kit up on the bed above Jimmy's sweaty head. His eyes flutter restlessly under the lids. Zoey mutely shakes her head. "Thank you, Zoey. Let's take a look at that arm, hm?" 

Zoey suddenly comes to life, "Me? But Jimmy-" 

Harry gently sushes her, "Zoey, it's alright. I need to make sure this doesn't happen to you, okay? I should have with him but I didn't. I'll help him when I have you sorted, okay?" 

Zoey settles down unhappily, "Really?" 

Harry grins softly, "Yeah. Let me see, hm?" 

Zoey offers her arm docily, her gaze back on Jimmy. She seems strangely attached to the toddler she's only known for a couple of hours. Harry is glad for the distraction. He unwraps the bite, happy to find no visible signs of infection just yet. The edges are puffy but not terribly. Nonetheless, Harry cleans the wound as well as he can with rubbing alcohol. Zoey squirms but bites her lip and stays quiet, her terror over those things overriding her need to vocalise her pain. She just stares intently at Jimmy, like she is drawing comfort from him. 

Once Harry is satisfied does he apply fresh, clean bandages to her arm, securing the bundle with a few rounds of gauze. Once the knot is firm, Zoey takes back her arm and juts her chin at Jimmy. 

"Okay, okay," Harry smiles tiredly and turns to the toddler. He feels a wave of helplessness settle over his shoulders as he sets about cleaning the ragged wound. Harry doesn't have antibiotics. The little boy is too tiny to fight off such a terrible infection on his own. Harry covers the freshly bandaged wound with both of his hands and wishes he could take the infection away. 

That exact moment, the little boy stops breathing. 

Harry snaps his head up and watches intently for a few breathless, endless moments. Then, when it's clear Jimmy isn't breathing, Harry tries to remember how to do muggle CPR. His fevered attempts stop when the world shifts and stills, Death just popping into view. 

… 

Harry clenches his fists, watching little Blue-Jay's soul waft up. He isn't able to discern just what it looks like, just a vague, cloudy, featureless light. It looks nothing like the little ball of light that held the very essence of Sirius, back in Harry's third year. Yet, it flashes radiantly for a split second as Death takes the fledgling soul into its bone breast, other roving lights moving around behind the bone prison. 

… 

Harry exhales harshly and nods, waving Death off. 

The world shifts - bursting back into action. Harry steps away from Jimmy's still form, blinking his eyes against Zoey's confused sound. Jimmy's fever pained features smoothes out peacefully. Harry hopes he found his mom. Zoey comes up, hands and fingers hovering over Jimmy's lifeless form, her eyes leaving his small body to look at Harry. 

The teen lets out the breath he was holding, tears escaping without his say so. He is wordless as he reaches down and smoothes back Jimmy's sweaty hair. Zoey seems to catch on because she begins to weep quietly, hiding her face in her hands again. 

Harry leaves the room, returning with a sheet that he carefully wraps Jimmy in. Then Harry picks his wrapped body up and takes him further into the house, setting him down gently on the child bed. Harry doesn't know what else to do. Zoey had followed him out and she stared down at Jimmy's white wrapped body forlornly. Harry rarely felt this helpless; he clenches his fists and hopes that the girl's bite doesn't become infected. Why didn't Harry take a minute to tend to Jimmy's scratch? Would Jimmy still be alive now had Harry been smarter about things? It was a miracle the kid survived the blast… only to be smacked down by a scratch . Life is so cruel. 

Harry wraps his arm over Zoey's shoulder and leads her out of the room, closing the door behind them. It will have to do, Harry doesn't think he'd be able to bury Jimmy and he doesn't have the stomach to burn the little boy's body. It would have to be the slow, hard to catch kind. Harry just cannot bring himself to do it. 

Harry can't bear to be upstairs anymore. He leads Zoey downstairs, taking a second to snatch the bag out of the bedroom they were just in. Zoey is quiet and dead eyed, unresponsive to any of the whispered reassurances Harry tries to keep up. Harry doesn't know what to do about that, either. It helps comfort him , at least. 

They settle into the living room, the curtains for the large bay window thankfully the dark, concealing kind. Harry makes sure nothing can see in and settles Zoey on the couch. He gives her some water and food and then searches for blankets and pillows. He makes a bed on the floor and then tries to prompt Zoey into eating her still untouched portion. He is mildly successful, getting her to eat a few bites and drink a bit. Harry has to force down the small amount he set aside for himself, nausea churning in his gut at all of his experiences just today . 

Without another word between them, Harry and Zoey settle in for the night.

Day 18 

Sometime near dawn, Harry wakes from a thump and steps upstairs. He checks on Zoey, finding her limp and sleeping peacefully. Not even her eyes are moving under the lids. Another thump has Harry's head turning upwards, frown aimed at the ceiling. He looks at Zoey again; the noise doesn't seem to be bothering her. 

Harry leaves their little nest. In the kitchen, Harry takes a knife from the block and heads up the stairs, heart pounding. The teen slowly slinks down the hall, hovering his ear over each door until a thump from the last door on the end draws his attention. Harry put Jimmy there. Swallowing thickly, Harry firms his grip on the knife and steps hesitantly up to the door. 

His ear to the door, Harry listens carefully but can't hear anything. Then, something shifts, like cloth against cloth. A whisper of a noise, too convoluted to make out. Steeling his nerves, Harry places a trembling hand on the knob and turns it slowly, quietly. 

The door opens a crack. Harry peeks in through the narrow opening, seeing a sliver of the room beyond. Just as Harry is about to open the door wider, something whips by. Harry very nearly slams the door shut, heart hammering and breath short. Instead, he opens it wider, now that he knows where it is. Whatever it is. 

Jimmy's pale face and red ringed eyes stare blankly back at Harry's horrified face. The boy is still wrapped in the sheet, his small feet poking out the bottom. It, Harry reminds himself. That's not Jimmy anymore. His Blue-Jay died, Harry witnessed Death take the little soul away. Whatever this is… it's not the little boy Harry had grown fond of. 

That gave Harry strength to step inside the room and close the door behind him. 

Harry crawls back into the nest, freshly cleaned. He found some clothes to change into after… after. His old clothes lay on the floor somewhere upstairs and the shower still drips from the quick cold shower. Jimmy is now resting properly in the room. 

Zoey is still sleeping, her lids twitching as her eyes move. She seems none the wiser to what occurred upstairs and Harry is thankful for that. He tucks in close to her, sighing and closing his eyes as she turns into his warmth. A few more hours. The world can wait just a little longer. 

"Harry," Zoey whispers, shaking his shoulder. Harry inhales sharply and sits up, absently straightening his glasses. He shouldn't have fallen asleep with them on. 

"Yes, Zo?" Harry whispers back. 

"I hear something outside," she replies, motioning vaguely. Harry focuses on his hearing and picks up some garbled sounds. Heart picking up, Harry stands and carefully, so carefully, peaks out the curtains. His view yields nothing, so Harry looks through another angle and just barely sees some kind of green vehicle approaching. Harry figures out what it is and his heart leaps with hope. 

"Zo!" Harry whispers loudly for her. "Zo! Get ready!" 

"What's happening?" Zoey responds, getting out of the nest and pulling on her shoes. "What's going on?" 

Harry is quickly packing the bag as he responds, "I think it's the military. The military usually means safety. I'm hoping they take us with them." 

Zoey's face lights up in hope, though her features maintain the sad upturn. Harry hopes she bounces back from all this. A lot of kids are resilient but sometimes… sometimes shit can be too much. She finishes packing the next moment, turning to Harry just as he zips the bag shut. The teen offers his hand to her and, after she glances sadly at the ceiling, Zoey takes it. Harry smiles comfortingly, leading her to the door. He cracks it open to peek out before leading her out. 

The military vehicle is just passing when Harry steps out, waving his free hand wildly. They rumble to a stop, two more vehicles behind them stopping. Harry runs down the stairs, pulling Zoey behind him.

"We don't have space!" The man in the driver's seat yells out. "Make your way to-" 

"Wait!" Harry is already at the door. "Can you just take her, then? Please?" 

The man's scowl softens when he catches a glance at the shy little girl hiding slightly behind Harry. His stern demeanor softens. Sensing his chance, Harry pulls her out from behind him but the sight of her injured arm has the man, and the other people inside, pulling out their guns. Harry pulls Zoey back protectively, heart suddenly hammering at the threat. 

"She bit?!" The man barks out, face hard and cold. 

Harry nods, confused, "Well, yes, but-" 

"When?!" 

Harry splutters a moment before shaking his head, "Yesterday!" 

The man lowers his gun in speculation, "And she hasn't turned? Let me see!"

"See what?" Harry glances down at her, feeling so confused. Zoey is getting nervous, meeting his gaze with her own. "Turned?" 

"The bandage!" The man points his gun at the little girl carelessly and Harry scowls fiercely, pulling her behind him protectively. 

"Hey! Watch it!" Harry snaps back, practically hissing. "Don't be so careless!" 

The others give the man shit, revealing his name to be Hank. He takes it all with a contrite expression and puts the gun away, "Sorry, kid. Let us see her bite." 

Eyeing him distrustfully, Harry maneuvers Zoey's injured arm out into the open. He keeps her firmly behind his only slightly bigger frame. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry can see the man's eyebrows go up. The teen gives Zoey a comforting smile and then peels the bandage off about half way. 

The bite looks pretty okay for being a bite . Harry isn't a healer but he's been injured enough to know if something is infected. The bite clearly isn't, still bleeding a bit sluggishly but mostly sealed over with clotted blood. 

Harry carefully places the bandage back over the bite as the man holds up a finger and rolls up the window. He speaks into a walkie; Harry can't quite make out what the man is saying. Then the man nods and puts the walkie down, the window smoothly opening. 

"Is she yours?"

Harry frowns but shakes his head, "No, found her yesterday after…" Harry glances at the still burning city. "She was crying over her parents. Her dad bit her." 

"Well, that's mighty kind of you," the man smiles. "We don't have any space but we can squeeze her in."

Harry's face blooms into a smile but Zoey stomps her foot, "No!" 

"Zoey-" Harry tries to reason with her but she suddenly became an entirely different person, chest puffed out and red faced, angry. 

"No!" Zoey says again, shaking her head. "Not without you!" 

"Zo-" Harry tries to soothe but Zoey doesn't want to be soothed. 

"I wanna stay with you!" Zoey blurts out, attaching herself to his side. He can feel her whole body trembling. Harry doesn't know what to do. She won't survive long out here. At least Harry doesn't have to worry about those things. "Please don't leave me too!" 

Harry's mouth drops open but he doesn't know what to say. The teen doesn't get to say anything; the military vehicle's back door bursts open and out comes two beefy men holding very large guns. 

"Let her go!" One of them demands, gun raised and aimed at Harry. Zoey hides her face in Harry's side, the teen barely able to comfort her in the moment as he stares down the barrel of the gun. 

Harry doesn't react in time, the second man stepping around and kicking out Harry's leg. He goes down with a cry, the first man reaching out and grabbing Zoey at the same moment. She screams as she's tugged out of Harry's hold, pulled back to the vehicle. 

"Harry!" She screams out again, terrified all over again. Harry tries to get up but the second man brutally kicks the teen in the stomach. Magic dampens the damage but the pressure makes Harry throw up bile, collapsing to the ground as the two men return to the vehicle. The whole caravan races off. Harry turns his head, gritting his teeth against the pain and refuses, refuses , to let Zoey be taken. His anger flows over, his magic lancing out from his body and through each vehicle. The alarms started going off, the vehicles going out of control and crashing; one into a tree, one into a house and the last one into a light pole. 

Harry painfully gets up, limping heavily down the street. The dead start swarming the area, causing gunfire. The first vehicle, the one in the tree, is the closest, thankfully. Harry limps towards it, the door opening to deposit a corpse. Harry can hear Zoey screaming from the ten or so feet he has left to go. 

"Zoey!" Harry yells out roughly, coughing. "Zoey!" 

"Harry!" Zoey yells out, her upper body appearing out the door just as Harry limps around. Two large meaty hands are holding her hips, wrestling her to the seat. She keeps kicking him, distracting him from fully pinning her down. Harry spies two of those dead things bearing down on the other side of the vehicle. 

"Stop moving, girl!" The man grunts out in frustration. Harry waves his hand at the man. The door behind him flies open and he pauses, looking over his shoulder. He screams as he's grabbed and dragged backwards out of the vehicle, the dead munching down on him. More dead overwhelm the cars, drawn by the noise of the alarms.

"Harry!" Zoey sobs, scrabbling forward and reaching for him. 

"Zoey!" Harry gasps as he reaches in, pulling her out and picking the nearly ten year old up in a relieved hug. The relief was short lived, Harry wincing in pain as his leg reminds him of what happened barely five minutes before. The teen puts Zoey down, grasping her hand and pulling her away as fast as he can. "Let's go!" 

Zoey ends up under Harry's arm on his bad side, helping him walk. It had the benefit of hiding her from the dead as well as leaving the military men far behind. 

"You okay, Zo?" Harry asks quietly a while later. They have both slowed to a clipped pace, Harry practically hopping on one foot. His leg is pretty much useless, pain igniting every time at the slightest weight. 

"Yeah," she sniffs, looking up at him. "But your leg-" 

Harry cuts her off with a comforting smile, "I'm going to be okay. Promise." 

Her bottom lip trembles but she nods. Eventually, Harry needs a break, his leg feeling like it's on fire . They are next to a small park, so Harry says, "Let's hide here. Just for a bit."

Harry doesn't make it to the playground. Halfway there, his leg gives out, driving a cry of pain out of him as they both crash to the ground. Zoey whimpers, scrambling out from under Harry's slightly larger bulk and kneeling next to him, "You okay?" 

Harry shakes his head, gritting his teeth and wishing the pain away . He can't remain here! He has to protect Zoey! 

The pain leeches away until his leg doesn't hurt at all. For the first time, Harry feels the magic channeling through his hands. It funnels into his leg, easing the pain and reducing the painful inflammation. Harry lets go of his leg in confusion, bending and straightening it with a growing sense of wonder. 

"Are you a genie?"

"A what?" Harry blurts out, unintentionally repeating himself from all those years ago. 

Zoey smiles slightly. It's the first time Harry has seen any positive emotion but hope on her. "A genie… you know, from Aladdin?" 

Harry crooks his lips, shaking his head in bemusement, "I don't know what that is. But no, I don't think I'm a… genie."

Zoey looks aghast, eyes wide and mouth open in her apparent shock, "You don't know Aladdin? How about Mulan?" Harry shook his head. "Cinderella?!" Another nope makes Zoey's head spin. "You don't know Snow White?!"

"These are all sounding weirder and weirder," Harry complains lightly with a soft smile. "I wasn't allowed on the telly growing up."

Zoey's whole slight frame freezes and then she mutters out, "Oh." 

"It's okay, Zo. Maybe you can tell me about them later, hm?" Harry offers as he stands, gingerly checking out his leg. She nods almost excitedly as she watches. Harry looks at her, "Why do you think I'm a genie?" 

"Oh!" She says, something occurring to her. "Because you wished your leg was better!" 

"I wished?" Harry asks in amusement. 

Zoey nods seriously, "You wished my bite wouldn't get infected either!" 

"Really?" Harry responds absently, suddenly remembering that he did wish both times. He only wished on Jimmy for his infection to go away right before he died… did - did Harry kill Jimmy? Did he accidentally kill the little boy depending on him? Did he say the wish wrong? Was it just bad timing? Harry's mind whirls, only pausing when Zoey takes his hand again. 

"I'm okay, Zo, just… anyway, thank you for telling me. Let's find a place to bunk down in, hm?" 

Harry smiles at her as she looks up at him with trusting eyes. Like Jimmy once did. Swallowing thickly, Harry squeezes her hand and locks his negative emotions and whirling thoughts to deal with later. He won't fail Zoey. 

—

They walk for hours . Zoey barely left Harry's personal space, preferring to remain firmly attached to his side. Harry doesn't have the heart to deny her the comfort she's clearly seeking. He doesn't blame her either; Harry would stick close to the only guy immune to them too. 

The aftermath of the destruction is stark. Wherever they look, damage from the explosions is obvious. There are barely any buildings untouched on every block and the streets are littered with still burning bodies. Some of the walking dead are on fire but pay it no heed. One such example Harry and Zoey watch as it just falls over and stops moving. The air reeks of burning things, flesh being the most dominant.

After Zoey coughs for the third time, Harry rips his new shirt to make her a face cover. The teen eyes the cloth and then Zoey, seeing her watching him in anticipation. When did she start trusting him like that? Harry bites his lip and then wishes the cloth will protect Zoey from the nasty air. He feels the magic leaving his hands but nothing about the cloth changes. Shrugging, Harry fashions it over her face, tying it firmly behind her head. 

"Here, how's that?" Harry asks as he straightens the mask. 

"What is this for?" Zoey asks, slightly muffled. She brings her hands up to investigate and pulls the cloth down. 

Harry tuts, pulling it back up, "I'm hoping it protects you from the bad air until we find something." 

Zoey breathes in deeply, "Doesn't smell so bad." 

Harry quirks a small grin, "Good. Where do you think we should go next? I'm all turned around here." 

"Wait," Zoey says, pointing at Harry. "Now you." 

"Me?" Harry asks, confused. 

Zoey nods, "Make a mask for you." 

Harry shakes his head but Zoey stamps her foot mulishly and Harry sighs, giving in. After Harry's face is covered and another strip ripped out of his poor shirt, Zoey chooses to go further into the city, towards the park she remembers her dad taking her to before he died. 

"Wait," Harry says as they walk, Zoey molded to his side despite Harry's healed leg. "I thought-" 

Zoey looks away, "They weren't my actual parents. They were really kind people that saved me."

Harry squeezes her to him in silent comfort. 

Zoey stays quiet after that. Harry doesn't pry, knowing how painful some things can be. They walk right on through the dead, Zoey's presence completely hidden from them. She bravely reaches out to poke one, jumping when it whirls around with a snarl. 

"Probably shouldn't let them know there's a meal here," Harry says with some degree of amusement. "They might all want a bite." 

Zoey kept her hands to herself. 

All they had was a vague direction for this park Zoey told him about. She seems to know where she's going but the way is slow going, due to the sheer amount of dead packing the interior streets of Atlanta. They end up spending the night in an abandoned car. 

"Harry?" Zoey asks into the muted quiet. She's curled into his chest, not feeling remotely safe enough to curl up on her own. Harry soothes both of them by absently stroking her hair. 

"Hm?" 

"Why did you stop?"

"Stop what?" Harry asks, his mouth pulling down into a vague frown. 

"To help me," Zoey clarifies and continues before Harry can answer. "I'm just a burden."

Harry knows what that feels like, "I stopped because it was the right thing to do. Just like how those people helped you before me." Harry pauses. "Maybe we should figure out how to fight properly, find weapons. Then you won't be a burden, right?" Harry realizes how that sounds and back tracks, "N-not that you are! I didn't-I mean-" 

Zoey starts giggling, patting Harry's shoulder comfortingly, "It's okay, Harry. I know what you meant. And can we?" 

"Find weapons?" 

"Well, that and learn how to fight. Can we?" It's too dark to see Zoey's eyes.

"I think we're going to have to," Harry replies musingly. "I don't think this… all this-is going to end any time soon."

Zoey starts trembling at the thought. Harry sighs and hugs her closer, leeching his own comfort from the action. Inside the car, it's safe for now but out there? There's more than those things to worry about. Those military men are one but other survivors? Who knows how many people were victimized by looters. 

"I'll keep you safe," Harry promises into her hair. "We'll stick together, okay?" 

It takes a moment for Zoey to reply, "That's what my dad said before he died."

Harry's heart hurts from her loss. It's a sharp, bitter pain, "I'm sorry." 

"Do you have parents?" Zoey asks quietly. 

"I did, a long time ago," Harry shares, eyes finding a light turning on on an upper floor some blocks away. He wonders who is up there. "They died, though. My relatives raised me." 

"How did they die?" Zoey yawns, big and wide. Harry is pleased to note she is finally starting to relax enough to sleep. 

"A very bad man," Harry replies in a whisper. "He murdered them because they didn't want to follow him."

Zoey hums, breath deepening into sleep. Harry presses a light kiss into her hair, missing his children fiercely. He misses Jimmy, the little boy excited for the next great story about James the Wizard. He even misses Tom, Sarah's baby. He misses his friends; a lot of Harry's memories are blurred and out of focus, recalling even vaguely fine details impossible. He remembers all of his spells, potion making, fighting… but he doesn't remember Hermione's last name or how many brothers Ron actually has. He recalls Hermione having big brown hair and Ron having red hair… but the style? Cut? Length? Harry can't remember any of it. 

If Harry is honest with himself, though he's sad and misses them, it's a good thing he can't remember them. He would only end up pining after them more than he already is. With how this world is, Harry can't afford to stay caught up in his past. He has a little girl to watch over now. He won't fail her like he failed Jimmy. 

Eventually, Harry drifts off as well. 

Day 19

Harry wakes abruptly when something hits the car with a dull thump. Zoey startles awake as well, eyes bleary and wide. Harry soothingly runs his fingers and hand over her face and hair, getting her to relax enough to lean back on him. He's looking out the grimy windows. 

"What was that?" Zoey whispers, ever aware of the level of her voice. She seems to catch on quickly that they are attracted to sound. Smart girl. 

"One of them," Harry answers just as quietly. Something catches his eye and he tenses, watching the dark skinned man kick a can by accident and attract all the uglies around them. The man looks over, panicked, face reflecting his dread. His eyes shift from one to another, makeshift weapon up and ready but it's quite clear the man is not going to survive his mistake. 

Unable to not do something about it, Harry quickly whispers, "He needs help! Stay!" And struggles out the door from underneath his young charge. The space around the vehicle is clear. 

"Harry!" She squeaks out in terror, small hands trying to grasp onto him. Harry is quick to soothe her, "I'm coming back! Promise! Need to help!" 

The man cries out, the sound of metal impacting flesh. Harry leans forward and kisses her forehead, "I'll be right back." 

He closes the door on her before she can say otherwise. Harry fights through the dead, trying to get to the desperately fighting man. Just as Harry breaches the tight circle of dead bodies, the man's eyes widened in confusion and horror, one got through his defenses and latched onto his shoulder. 

"No!" Harry yells out, his magic pushing at the dead enough to let the teen get to the grunting man, who had managed to twist around and knife the head. The thing falls to the ground but another steps over it, eager for the fresh blood. 

"Shit!" The man curses, clutching his shoulder and pale in the face of his imminent demise. Harry crashes into him, somehow not knocking both of them over. The man tries to push Harry off with a, "What the-who the fuck? Get off!" 

"Don't!" Harry snaps, holding on tighter. His cheek presses distressingly into the growing blood stain on the man's shirt. The man fights him, not noticing the dead moving away. "Look!" 

The man pauses, chest heaving, disbelief leaking into his expression as he watches the things that were nearly on top of him walk away. The one that stepped on the other stands there almost awkwardly, red ringed pale eyes shifting aimlessly. He blurts out too loudly, "What the-" 

"Shh!" Harry snaps, pulling the now unresisting man to the car. Zoey's terrified face stares back out at them, slowly melting to relief as they near. On the other side of the vehicle, three of those things were banging on the windows trying to get in. A foot or so away, they suddenly lost interest and wandered off. Harry opens the front door and shoves the man in, nearly catching his ankle in the door as Harry moodily shut it.

Recognising his anger and stress, Harry takes the next moment to breathe in carefully, exhaling all his frustration out. Zoey doesn't need this. 

Feeling much more calm, Harry opens the back door and slips in, the door barely shut when he gains a lapful of trembling Zoey. He shushes her whimpering, pulling her fully into his lap and cuddling her until she calms down. 

"What the fuck was that about?" The man blurts out, his hand unintentionally tightening on his wound. He winces, loosening his hold. Fresh blood surges out. 

Harry reaches forward, not bothering to remove Zoey from his space. She watches as the man uneasily tries to back away but just doesn't have the space. "What are you doing?" 

"Do you want me to help you with your shoulder or not?" Harry snips primly. 

The man shakes his head, "I'm a dead man. Don't bother."

"Well, you definitely will be if you don't stop that bleeding," Harry returns drily. 

"No, I'm bit ! I'm dead ! Don't you understand you British fuck?" the man snaps back, gritting his teeth and keening at the flare of pain. His face is screwed up, sweat beading his forehead and cheeks. 

Harry scowls, "No need to be rude. Why does being bit mean you are dead?" 

The man doesn't answer for several seconds, first looking at Harry with disgust and then rolling his eyes, "Typical. Probably hiding out with your rich ass parents. Just so you know , you dumb fuck, being bit or scratched turns you into one of those. Get it? Do you finally understand?" 

Jimmy. Jimmy got scratched. The scratch was infected and killed the little boy. Had Harry known from the start, Jimmy would still be alive. Why? Why did Jimmy have to die to figure this out? Why didn't Harry figure it out earlier? 

"Stop being mean," Zoey demands petulantly. "I didn't die."

"What?"

Zoey sat up and imperiously showed off her healing bite wound, "Harry wished it wouldn't get infected and it didn't !" 

The man's face is suddenly full of hope, "When did you get that?" 

Zoey carefully wraps it back up, patting it gently when she does, "Day before yesterday." She didn't even look at him, too busy intently making sure the wound was properly covered. Harry makes a mental note to change the bandages before they leave. Then he remembers that he healed his own leg. 

"H-hey man," Harry looks at the man, whose face is suddenly open and hopeful. His eyes are dark in the gloom. "I-I'm sorry for w-what I s-said."

"Okay," Harry replies, eyes returning to Zoey's arm. She doesn't seem bothered by the bandage. Does Harry want to fully heal the man's wound or just the infection? Unlike Zoey's bite, the wound is far more dangerous and in a far worse spot. Harry definitely wants to fully heal Zoey's arm. The teen dithers; heal the man or heal Zoey? 

"D-dude, I'm- please, man, I don't wanna die," the man finally breaks down, sobbing. "Please. I know I was an asshole and I'm sorry. I just don't wanna die. Please!"

Harry sighs, his decision made for him and reaches out, "Stop whimpering. You'll attract them."

The man sobs harder, leaning into the contact. Harry wishes the bite never happened. A disturbingly large amount of magic left his hand and sunk into the man's skin. His trembling eased and his breathing calmed and when Harry pulled back, the skin was new and tender. As the man investigates the spot with open faced wonder, Harry slumps into the seat, eyes rolling. 

"Harry?!" Zoey squeaks, popping up in concern. She looks his exhausted body over, getting increasingly freaked out the longer Harry gathers energy to reply. "You okay?!" 

"Zo… 'kay," Harry mumbles out, his body heavy. He manages to quirk a smile at her and it relieves a little of her anxiety. "Tired." 

"You okay?" The man asks, leaning around the seat to get a better look. 

Harry barely manages a nod and feels the need to sleep, hard. He doesn't even get the chance to warn them. 

Day 20

Harry woke, stiff and warm. 

His nose is buried into Zoey's wild curls. He feels his feet pressing into the car door, laying curled on his side. Zoey is tucked into his chest, face hidden. Harry can hear the other man snoring quietly in the front seat. There are mute thumps against the car but nothing loud enough to startle the other two awake. 

Everything is so dark, Harry can barely see. He must have slept the whole day away. 

It felt nice to hold Zoey. Harry's children all outgrew cuddling early in their life, all far too interested in being small, independent adults. He may not be able to remember them, what they look or smelled like or their voices. But he remembers their names like they are inscribed on his soul and its good enough. 

The bitten arm is resting between their bodies. Harry wants to heal it, so he places his hand as close and gently as possible. Then, he wishes that the bite is healed. 

Harry feels the expenditure of magic but there is a stark difference in how much he used just now and how much he used the day before. The bite was barely a trickle compared to the floodgates it took to heal the man. Is the amount of magic use proportionate to the level of damage? That would make a lot of sense. The man was only an hour or so away from bleeding to death. It doesn't quite ring just right but Harry dismisses it. He doesn't have enough information at hand. 

Harry gently and carefully removes the bandage so he doesn't wake Zoey. Harry can't see if the skin is healed but his light touch reveals some scarring on the otherwise smooth skin. Zoey shifts, murmuring. Harry pauses until she settles back down.

If it did scar… what's the difference between the man's healing and hers? 

Harry remembers wishing the man wasn't bitten… did magic interpret that literally? Maybe Harry has to be careful with his wording as well. He wished Zoey's bite is healed . Is that the difference? 

Harry spirals deep into his thoughts, absently running his fingers through Zoey's thick hair. It's greasy and dirty but he needs the comfort as much as she does. Zoey doesn't wake but she does shift often, little sounds escaping her mouth. At some point, Harry eases a building nightmare away before it could get bad. 

When the sky bleakly lights up in the pre-morning light, Harry gently shakes Zoey awake. The little girl jerks awake with a gasp, sitting up to look Harry over, "You're okay!" 

Harry smiles, "Yeah, sorry about that, Zo." Zoey's shoulders slump and her eyes fill with tears. Harry's heart wrenches at it. The teen opens his arms and she sobs, curling back into his embrace. "I'm sorry, Zo. Didn't mean to scare you." 

"I thought you died and then Hector said you were just sleeping but-" 

Harry hugs her tightly, "It's okay, I'm okay." 

"Please don't leave me," Zoey sobs into his chest. 

Harry sighs, petting her head, "I'll try my best, little one." 

"Feeling better?" The man apparently named Hector asks hesitantly. Harry looks up from Zoey's crown to look at him. In the gloom, Harry can't quite make out what he looks like. "You were, like, way out of it, Curador . Chiquita nearly turned on me." 

Pride bubbles in Harry's chest at how strong Zoey is already. 

"I think I'm okay," Harry responds, looking back down at Zoey's head. "Won't know until we go…" Harry glances up. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, Curador. My shoulder is like, all healed and everythin'. I did want to thank you, though," Hector blows out a gusty sigh and shakes his head, his hand coming up to the open, still bloody area where he was bit. "I thought I was a dead man, Curador . Nobody survives a bite. I was thinkin' how my abuela would be so sad when I don't go back. She must be so worried."

So, the man does still have family around. That's good. "Are you able to make it back from here?" 

Hector nods, "Yeah, Curador . I could have, maybe, yesterday but there were too many zombis hanging around," Hector glances out his window, which looks to be a little cleaner. "Not so much today. Probably moved on."

Zoey finally shifts off Harry then, "He said that he lives with a buncha old people and helps takes care of them."

"That's admirable of you," Harry says, giving Hector an approving look. The man ducks his head. 

Zoey's stomach growls. She puts both of her hands on her tummy and looks at the backpack forlornly, "We don't have any food left." 

Harry frowns a little, "Well, we won't be able to see anything if we go now. Think you can walk for a bit before eating?" 

Zoey's tummy rumbles louder in response. She shrugs a little helplessly, "Maybe?" 

Harry shakes his head, "Let's just see about getting more rest for now, hm? We'll leave in an hour or so. Should be bright enough by then."

"Hey, Curador ," Hector draws Harry's attention again. "Just wondering if you an' Chiquita have a group or something."

Harry shakes his head, "Just us."

Zoey sighs forlornly, "Jimmy died two days ago." 

"Oh, hermano , I'm sorry," Hector says genuinely. "What happened… if-if you don't mind saying, that is."

They had some time to kill. Harry doesn't see the harm in telling Hector. The man goes from shock to horrified understanding, to sadness at Jimmy's passing. Hector's one burning question was, "I- Curador , I truly mean no offense. Why-" 

Harry knows where this is going. He cuts the now stuttering man off with, "I didn't know. If I had-" Jimmy would not have died. "Zo pointed it out, after-... That was three days ago now."

"That sucks, vato . I… I really am grateful, Curador . Thank you for healing me… even when I was a jerk," Hector looks a little shame-faced but gamely continued before Harry can wave off the gratitude. "I was going to ask if you guys needed a group or something. We don't have many people right now, most of them are gente vieja , but we have shelter and supplies. I'm sure Jefe would agree once I talk to him." 

Harry looks at Zoey, "Well, boss? What should we do?" 

She looks startled at being put on the spot. Harry grins wryly as she glances between them, nervous and unsure, her hands squeezing together. The action led her eyes down to her hands, which inevitably revealed her lack of bandage. How Zoey didn't notice it right away is up for debate but the girl gasps joyfully, showing it off, "You healed my bite?" 

Harry nods, "I'm slowly figuring this thing out, now that I've gotten some helpful feedback. I'm sorry it scarred-" 

"I don't mind!" Zoey cuts him off in a high pitched, offended tone. She collapses back on him, getting an oomph! But seeming to not care as she wraps her arms around him tightly. "Thank you, Harry." 

Harry can't help the smile, curling around her in response, "You're welcome, Zo." Harry holds her until she pulls back, Hector watching the exchange silently. He seems to sense that now isn't the time to be interrupting and his eyes are soft, sad. "What do you say, boss?" 

Zoey grins and shrugs, "He did tell me all about it yesterday. Sounds like a great place, honestly. I wanna meet the old people. I think we should try." Zoey nods to herself, confident in her decision. 

Hector's face lights up, "Yeah?" 

Hector and Zoey look at Harry and the teen shrugs helplessly, "Let's go?" 

Hector lights up in glee, rubbing his hands together as he speaks phrases in his language. Harry meets Zoey's determined, hopeful, trusting eyes and Harry hopes this doesn't end badly. 

They pull up their masks and leave the car, Harry getting out first, then Zoey and then Hector. The taller man took up Harry's other side and spent the next ten minutes openly marvelling at how close he is to those things - close enough to reach when Zoey gleefully parroted Harry's words two days ago. 

Hector seemed far less interested after that. To be fair , Harry did heal his bite, so the man is keenly aware of what it feels like. Harry does notice Hector's grip tighten quite a bit when they are forced to get too close to the dead. The reminder probably brought up bad memories. Harry knows alot about that.

"What were you even doing around here?" Harry asks him not too long after, keeping an eye out for a potential place to find food and water. Zoey's stomach is getting loud enough to sound like the dead so they need sustenance sooner rather than later. 

"Lookin' for supplies, Curador . Medicine, mainly, but anything at this point-" Hector pauses, as if something occurred to him. Harry has a bad feeling as the taller man looks at him pleadingly. "I hate to ask, Curador …" 

Harry frowns and says firmly, "I'm not putting Zoey through any more crap. If I decide we stay, then we can talk about potential supply runs." Harry sees Zoey's head snap up to him but he holds his gaze. 

Hector's eyes widen at the command in Harry's tone and immediately concedes, "O-of course, Curador . It's not too much further now."

Harry glances down at Zoey and winks, gaining a smile. Then he squeezes her gently and onwards they go. Thankfully, it really isn't too much further. Harry and Zoey hadn't been that far away but they had been heading in the wrong direction. If Hector hadn't been there at that exact moment, it's unlikely they would have met up at all. 

Harry and Zoe are met with guns. Harry forces Zoey behind him as Hector moves forward with his hands up, face angry and tone exasperated. Harry doesn't understand what he's saying but they immediately lower their weapons. 

Hector turns back to them, "Sorry, Curador . Everyone's a little on edge."

Someone addresses Hector and he replies as he herds Harry and Zoey inside, the two clutching each other tightly. Like hell someone is going to forcefully separate them again. Harry's eyes are sharp and hard, looking back and forth over the various faces that are now surrounding them. There are a lot of hugs and happy tears, everyone most likely relieved Hector isn't dead. 

Harry and Zoey stand apart, guarded by two guys with their own dopey smiles as they watch. It's clear the group has become tight knit in a small amount of time, bound together by a common goal. Something about it eases Harry's paranoia. When the taller of the two looks down at Harry, the teen smiles. 

The man's smile drops a little, probably taken aback by the open regard but manages to return it with one of his own. Harry glances at the reunion, "You can go, if you want. My charge and I would like a moment to talk." At his and his buddy's skeptical look, Harry reassures them. "We won't move. You can watch us the entire time."

They exchange shrugs, "Okay," says the first and the second miming I'm watching you as they go. 

Harry finally allows Zoey more than an inch of space, hearing her take in an exaggerated breath. Harry would feel bad but Zoey had been clinging just as tightly. It seems their experience with the military made them both more than a little traumatised. He chuckles instead, running his fingers through her hair. "You okay?" 

Zoey nods, eyes on the happy reunion, "I'm glad you saved him, now."

"Fair warning," Harry says in a teasing but firm tone. "I will do what I can to save other people. It's who I am."

Zoey shakes her head vigorously, "If you do, then you might die!" 

Harry is torn. He hadn't meant for Zoey to latch onto him this hard. He glances at the reunion winding down and then back at Zoey, "We'll talk about that later, okay? What do you think of this place?"

Zoey frowns but settles, "It's nice. They like each other a lot so that's good, I think. I wanna meet the old people."

Harry bursts into laughter, unable to help it. Zoey was so refreshingly frank; Harry had been surrounded by hero worshippers for a great deal of time during the day and Ginny ran a tight ship at home, so blunt comments like hers were so rare. Maybe she isn't aware of how insulting the phrase can sound. Harry isn't sure if he wants to correct it; he doesn't want Zoey growing into someone incapable of defending herself in any way. It's not like it's really offensive. 

Zoey looks so pleased with his laugh, grinning like a loon. 

"You are silly," Harry informs her, the call of El Curador! drawing his focus away before she could respond. He doesn't know what it means but he has an idea and he doesn't know if he likes the implications. Zoey squeezes in again, grip tight.

"It's Harry, Hector," Harry responds as the man approaches with an entourage of people. Harry eyes them and his gaze comes to rest on a slim man with dark skin and shorn hair. His eyes are hard but possess a curious gleam. "I don't like titles."

The man steps forward after looking at Hector, "Hey, I'm Guillermo. I'm the-leader," the pause is telling. The man isn't used to his position yet. "Hector tells us you saved his life. On behalf of the Vatos , I thank you. His abuela will be happy to see him."

Harry nods, "Well, you know my name. This one is Zoey. It was chance we were there in the first place. I did what anyone would do."

Harry flinches at the pinch Zoey delivered to his side. The sneaky bugger. 

Guillermo shakes his head, "This goes deep, El Curador -" Fuck, Harry doesn't want a title, damn it. "-you went beyond what anyone would do. Please, Hector is familia . That makes you familia ."

Harry feels a trap. But Zoey looks enamored with the idea and Harry can't bring himself to ruin it just yet based on his paranoia. 

"It's Harry. Zo would like to meet your elderly residents," Harry said after a moment. "She's the boss in this group." 

Zoey puffs up self importantly as Guillermo turns amused eyes on her. He hesitates but after a nudge from Hector, does he acquiesce. "I'm sure they would love to meet her . They all miss having a kid around to spoil."

Zoey turns excited eyes on Harry as Guillermo leads the way further inside. Hector follows, the rest of the group dispersing back to what they were doing. 

"So, El Curador, " Guillermo starts, glancing back. "What brings a British teenager to Atlanta?" 

"Relatives were forced to bring me on their vacation," Harry answers absently, taking careful note of the way back out . He spies an Exit sign down a long hall and files it away. "Had an accident. They died."

Guillermo says in an even tone, "I'm sorry to hear that. The residents here were abandoned by the staff during the early days. I was the janitor here and couldn't let these residents die , so me and Felipe stayed. We've had a lot of people coming in to check on their family and most ended up staying. Haven't seen many since the bombs though…"

The mention of the devastation Harry had narrowly avoided due to his anxiety brought back horrible memories. The moment in time when he had genuinely thought the world had suddenly ended and felt pure terror. 

"Yeah, the bombs killed the group I was with," Harry replies blankly, following the Vatos leader into a wide, gloomy room. Any further conversation is cut off when Hector is spotted and a tiny, hunched over old lady starts sobbing as she reaches out. Hector runs past, barely brushing shoulders with Harry and stops in front of the lady, leaning down to deliver a truly relieved hug. 

Hector's return makes every resident light up, making them seem nearly a decade younger in an instant. There had been an air of misery in the room until that moment and Harry is glad he had a part in making it better. 

Another little lady comes walking over, smiling at the warm scene herself with her hand over her collar. Then she looks at Harry and her eyes soften even more when they land on Zoey. "Guillermo, who are these forastero ?" 

"New friends, Abuela ," Guillermo replies easily, turning to motion as he introduces them. "This is Harry and mija is Zoey."

Abuela smiles radiantly at the little girl and began to blab excitedly, unintelligible to either youth. Guillermo understands, grinning as he turns to them, "Sorry, she reverts to her mother tongue more and more often these days. She's so excited to meet you, Zoey. She thinks you are a very pretty young mija ."

When she glances up at Harry, he carefully pulls away and prompts her forward. His encouragement is all she apparently needed, stepping forward and being swept up in affectionate, platonic touching. Harry's smile grows slowly as Zoey starts relaxing and replying, being lead to the rest of the elderly residents looking on in anticipation. After one last glance, Zoey is enveloped by happy, eager old people. 

Guillermo turns to Harry, "I'm going to be frank with you, El Curador . We'd like you two to stay."

"It's Harry," the teen replies tightly, shooting the man a glance. "And I said it's not up to me. If Zoey doesn't want to stay, we're not going to."

The girl is being force fed some cookies and water, two of them playing with her hair. Zoey seems to be drinking up the easy affection like a cat. Harry smiles at the sight.

" El Curador -" 

" Harry ," the teen finally snaps.

Guillermo senses he's on thin ice and backs off with a nod. It eases Harry's paranoia about this situation. Guillermo would have kept pushing if he had nefarious purposes. Harry just seems like he has no way of getting out. 

Zoey runs back, face lit and grinning from ear to ear. Harry can't help his own answering smile, "Well?"

"Can we aim for a few days and then decide?" Zoey asks hopefully.

Resigned, Harry nods and looks at Guillermo, who looks far too happy about the whole thing. Why wouldn't he? Harry muses to himself. He's getting exactly what he wants. 

"We've still got some empty rooms. Come on! I'll let you guys settle in for tonight and tomorrow, we can introduce everyone!" 

Zoey ran back to say goodnight and then Guillermo guides them to an empty, unclaimed room. Everything has a fine layer of dust but otherwise, it's far more comfortable than Harry was expecting. 

"Does Zo need her own room?" Guillermo asks a little awkwardly. 

"It's Zo ey and no! I want to stay with Harry!" Zoey heavily protests, squeezing Harry tightly at the thought of being separated. 

Harry declines politely, "Seems like she's not keen on that idea."

Guillermo takes that graciously and lets them know what time food is served. Then, he's gone and they are alone. 

"Your name is Zo ey , hm?" Harry says teasingly as he finally takes off his bag. The weight of it insignificant but feels like something more permanent. Harry has lived out of this backpack since the bombs. He's gotten attached to it. 

Zoey agrees imperiously, "Only you get to call me Zo."

It touches Harry when she says that. Only Harry can call her Zo. Like he has some pedestal in her life that only she can see. It's warming. Harry has come to really love Zoey in the few days since they met. She occupies a special part of his heart that only his children managed to reach. Is it selfish for Harry to hope that she continues to want to stay with him? Though he's far weaker than he had ever been, Harry wants to protect her. Protect her like he couldn't protect Jimmy. Harry has the sudden burning urge to see her grown up. 

Harry files those thoughts away and reaches out to mess up her hair, "Okay, Zo. Should we clean up? I'm sure we have plenty of time to wash our clothes."

Right on queue, there's a knock on the door. Zoey shadows Harry as he goes to the door, opening it a crack and then all the way when Hector's open face greets them, "Hello, Hector."

Hector has a bag of stuff in his hand, "Hey! My abuela and the others told me to bring you these. They practically bullied G into letting you guys rest instead of attending supper."

Harry takes the bag, Zoey poking her head around his arm to peak inside as Harry opens it. There are Tupperware containers on top of neatly folded clothes. Most of them are on the small side, so Harry suspects Zoey just got a few pairs of clothes. 

Hector continues, "I'll come get you guys tomorrow morning, alright?" 

After one last goodnight, Hector leaves them with the bag. Zoey eagerly takes it after Harry extracts the food containers. He opens one to find a couple of sandwiches . The other two hold soup and the last has a few biscuits. Harry feels unexpectedly touched at the sheer level of care those diddly old ladies have shown to the two traumatised youth. It's nice to have confirmation that there are still good people in the world. After the military thoroughly stomped all over Harry's trust, the teen didn't know if this whole shebang made everyone go crazy. 

"I like old people," Zoey announces as she pulls out two sets of clothes for herself. They were really big on her but they would do for now. Harry stacks the Tupperware for later and approaches to look at the other sets of clothes the abuela's gathered and sent. They look to be about Harry's size. There is also a single towel. Their generosity is nearly stifling. 

"You have clothes too!" Zoey gasps in excitement. 

Harry checks the ensuite shower/bath. The water is running but it's cold only, of which Harry doesn't mind. Poor Zoey, though, the little girl shivering violently as she tries to scrub herself under the cold spray. Zoey didn't want him to leave so Harry stares at himself in the mirror instead, more than a little shocked by what he sees. 

Back in the bank, Harry had been too out of it to look into a mirror. And in the house, what he was forced to do to allow Jimmy proper rest haunted him. Staring back isn't someone Harry had ever seen before. Sure, black hair, green eyes… but Harry at seventeen wasn't nearly as… mean looking. There's a set to his jaw that wasn't there before and muscles where Harry never had in his life. He noticed his knuckles were more rough looking than normal but he didn't think it was because the Harry of this world got into fights . Harry didn't think things would be that different here. 

He's got far thicker stubble than before, his arms bulging far more than Harry could ever recall seeing. His hair is wild, shorn short on one side. Thankfully, his ears are not pierced. At least the Dursleys were good for something. He does have a basic Hallows symbol tattooed over his heart and can't figure out if it meant something to the previous Harry or if Death had left it there as a reminder. 

This Harry is also tinier … somehow. Harry swears he's missing a few inches. He hopes it comes in growth spurts because he does not want to be shorter than before! Then the shower turns off and Harry steps out, murmuring that he's just outside the door. 

Something occurs to Harry after they both are clean, dressed and sitting down to homemade food. Zoey happily digs in, her hair practically dripping water. Harry gets up and grabs the towel, a little discreet shake has most of the water removed. Then, the teen patiently attacked Zoey's hair, drying off lock after lock until her damp curls no longer dripped. Zoey had startled at first but relaxed into the contact, finishing up her food. 

"Zo…" Harry broaches gently. At her relaxed hm? he continues, "Back with the military, why didn't you want to leave me? Did you get a bad feeling?" 

Zoey looks into her lap. 

"You don't have to answer, I'm sorry I asked." Harry backtracks. Maybe it's too soon to ask-

"After my dad died, my mom didn't want me anymore," Zoey said in a defeated tone. "She stopped talking to me and taking care of me. I barely saw her. When this all started, she p-packed her s-stuff and l-left m-me be-beh-hind!" Zoey breaks down, distraught. Harry steps around to her side and pulls her into a hug, both of them sitting on the floor. Within the relative safety and privacy of the rooms, Zoey was finally free to grieve . 

Harry swears if they ever meet that woman, he will wish for a curse on her. What, Harry has yet to decide but he has plenty of time to do so. 

After her sobs taper off, Zoey continues, almost sounding relieved to be getting this off her chest, "I didn't know what to do. Thankfully, the neighbors picked me up. They were really kind. I really liked them."

"What happened?" 

Zoey shifts, getting comfortable in his lap, "They got out to help someone." Like Harry did, guilt piles into his shoulders. "I didn't see what happened. They locked me in the truck and it took me too long to figure out how to get out." Similar to how she couldn't possibly see Harry through the grime of the window and the mess of dead, walking corpses. She probably feared her new adult friend had gotten eaten. More guilt. Harry failed Jimmy and now he's failing Zoey without even realizing it. 

She looks up at him then, brown eyes large and so trusting . Harry feels unworthy of that trust. "Then you came and saved me and it's like-" Zoey cuts herself off, more tears spewing out. 

"Zo? You okay?" Harry asks in concern. 

She wiped her tears, lips trembling, "My daddy always made me feel safe. He called me Zo. He made sure I ate, even when I didn't wanna and he cuddled me when I felt sad. He always found a way to make me smile and always treated me like I'm an adult, too. And when you came and saved me and protected me and fed me and called me Zo and made me smile and talk to me like I'm an adult and it's like my daddy never went away and I don't know-"

Harry had been growing increasingly bewildered with every and that spilled from her, noting the startling similarities right away but more concerned with her increase in breathing. The moment she starts rocking herself, Harry is pulling her face to face him, "Breathe, Zo! In, out, in out!" 

Zoey grasps his hands almost desperately, her lungs seizing in the midst of the panic attack. Her eyes are wide and filling with terror at the unknown situation. She's never had a panic attack before, Harry mentally notes as he coaches her first into breathing and then into a slower, safer rhythm. The entire time, his gaze never left hers, grounding her until her lids flutter in exhaustion. 

"You okay?" Harry asks her then, running his fingers through her silken locks. 

Zoey nods tiredly, "I'm sorry."

"No need for that, I think," Harry tells her primly. "Everything just caught up to you, is all. You finally felt safe enough to do so."

Zoey cries anew, "It's just-you even talk like him!" She wipes her cheeks in futility, new ones replacing them. "I didn't wanna go because I thought they were going to take me from my dad." 

Ah. And then-

"And then they tried to and I was so scared!" Zoey sobs out, turning her face into his chest. "They were laughing ."

Utter ponces, the lot of them. 

"Well, I don't think they'll be trying again," Harry says, matter of factly. "Both of us kicked their arses rather well, I think."

Zoey giggles wetly. 

Emboldened, Harry continues, "I don't think I've ever known a more brave person than you."

"I'm not brave," Zoey mumbles out. 

"Being brave isn't the absence of fear, but the overcoming of it," Harry quotes from long dormant memories. "I repeatedly poked at all your fears and probably nearly made you go prematurely gray," Zoey giggles again. Success. "And yet you still trust me. Even after your… mother…" Harry says the word with some measure of distaste. "She has no excuse. You did not deserve that, Zo. Hear me?" 

She doesn't answer but her shoulders shakes with her quiet sobs. 

When Zoey's sniffles calm some, she says in a blank voice, "Dad used to braid my hair. I remember he used to make me sit for so long while he practiced. I was always so bored but I liked how it looked after-I…" she inhales shakily. "I miss him so much, Harry." 

"I know, Zo," the nickname slips out so easily. "I never stopped missing my parents, even though I never knew them." His mind is on the braid part of her comment. 

Ginny always managed the kids' daily needs, including grooming and cuddles when the situation calls for it. But Lily insisted her daddy know how to braid her hair, so she made Harry sit down for hours to patiently learn every kind of braid by hand . Then, it became a thing between them. Harry would braid her hair, not Ginny.

"Hey, why don't you sit back in the chair? I'm gonna surprise you with something."

Zoey nods and crawls back into the chair, sniffing and wiping her face. Harry wished his hands were clean and then cleared his throat, speaking as he got to work, "Listen, I'm not trying to replace your dad, Zo. No one can. But maybe I can be your older brother?"

Zoey isn't Lily but Harry still remembers the braids. Almost on automatic, Harry's fingers gather the hair and part it, the thick strands almost unyielding to taming. 

Zoey's shoulders tremble, "Really?"

Harry nods but then remembers she can't see it, "Really. I'm kind of young to be a dad, anyway. How old are you?" 

"Thirteen," Zoey replies, shocking Harry. 

"I thought you were, like ten ."

"My mom and my dad are both short. It runs in the family," Zoey giggles. "I was the shortest in the class. I swear I've heard every short joke in existence ." 

Amused, Harry replies, "I bet."

It was hard without a comb but patiently, so patiently, Harry braids her hair back into a rough crown. Zoey sits unusually still throughout, not making another sound until Harry's hands come to rest on her shoulders. 

Before Harry can even open his mouth, Zoey is up and in the bathroom in an instant.  

"Oh!" Harry hears her squeal in excitement. "I love it ! It's so cute!" Harry doesn't have a chance to answer before the peppered up bunny zooms back out of the bathroom and tackles him in a tight, enthusiastic hug. "Thank you, Harry! Thank you!" 

Harry chuckles, "Welcome. I'm gonna finish my food, okay?" 

Zoey nods, running back into the bathroom. As Harry sits down, he hears appreciative murmuring coming from the bathroom and smiles to himself. He's not sure how long ago her dad died. He's glad they got that sorted out, though. Could have been a minefield later on. Her mother, on the other hand, is a cursed woman walking. 

After Harry manages half, he gives the rest to Zoey, who is proving to be the teenager she apparently is by downing that as well. Where all that food went , Harry doesn't know. 

They talk for the rest of the day and then tuck in for an early, early night. 

Day 21-58

The month Zoey and Harry spent with the Vatos was long and short at once, days filled with learning how to use weapons and training (here, Harry finds out he's really bloody good at some martial arts), cleaning and caring for the elderly residents. Zoey very quickly became inhumanely spoiled by the elderly residents, who often saved some of their allocated sweets to share with her. She spent time with each of them, learning their stories and entertaining them eagerly. Somehow, this seems to help Zoey's mental health immensely, allowing Harry to see glimpses of the fiery, independent personality beneath the grief and trauma. 

Harry himself has also been busy coordinating and leading runs into infested locations looking for supplies and medicine. Weapons and ammo are a strong secondary, though Harry doesn't find nearly as much of this particular need as he was hoping to. Their skirmishes with the other groups in the area have only gotten worse when word somehow got around on Harry's healing abilities. He's been trying to persuade Guillermo to clear out another location and move the residents there for weeks now but the man is hesitant. Even with Harry's ability, most of the residents cannot move on their own. The move would be incredibly risky and Guillermo is certain they can hold the building. 

The last few days, Harry has had the nagging thought to move on. The city is dead; the ragged pockets of survivors will be targeting each other for resources sooner than later. Harry has had years of Auror training and experience in tactics. When desperation begins to set in, all options are on the table. Harry doesn't want to be in the winner's pile. 

There's no future here. Beyond the elderly residents, who have become very dear to him and Zoey, being unable to move, they rely solely on non renewable supplies. There's no way to grow any fresh ingredients or space to keep fresh produce. No meats. Eventually, eventually , there will be no choice. Harry is just stuck when to leave between now and that point . Where is the point of no return, no escape? The nagging feeling of something coming has been growing and growing. 

Harry doesn't want to be here when it does. 

Watching Zoey interact with everyone, finding something like a family with these people… is Harry going to let his paranoia take away her happiness? They have become much closer during their stay here, Zoey opening up about her parents. What Harry learned didn't dissolve what Harry felt, though he kept it to himself. Those are his feelings; hers are complicated enough without Harry adding to it. 

Since Harry didn't really know this Harry's past, he simply told his adventures muggle style. His misadventures made her laugh, so it was worth the effort to translate. James the Wizard will remain firmly buried with Jimmy. 

If they left today… just up and went, the people here would survive for a while. Probably another few months if they rationed. Harry and Zoey don't need to be here. Harry can't help that nagging feeling that's starting to claw up the back of his throat. They need to leave. Harry eyes the windows, the gloom of the sunset bearing down on the city. 

Do they leave tonight? 

"Harry!" 

The teen snaps his head up, looking at Zoey. She pads up to him, stretching and yawning. Bed time then, Harry assumes, though it's a tad early for her. She usually doesn't feel like sleeping for another couple of hours yet. Still, Harry won't pass up the opportunity to talk to her before midnight. 

"Ready to sleep?" Harry asks her, reaching out to mess with her hair but his hand is slapped away. 

"No!" Zoey said, glaring and shielding her hair from his fingers. "It's perfect! Stop fucking with it!" 

"Why do you need to swear?" Harry asks more than a little exasperated. He falls into step with her as they begin their short trek to their room. 

"Because it's fun and because I can ." Zoey's answering grin is contagious. Harry quirks his own grin at her, shaking his head. 

"Whatever," Harry returns originally and opens the door. Out of habit, he clears the room and peeks into the bathroom before letting Zoey in. Moody instilled a lifetime paranoia in him and without access to his magic telling him something is invader-free, manual inspection will do. 

Once the door is closed, though, Zoey rounds on him with a determined expression, "What's wrong?" 

He should have known. He narrows his eyes at her, "I don't like how well you can read me."

Zoey rolls her eyes, "Harry, we only spend like, 90% of our time together. What's going on?" 

She has a fair point but Harry thinks Zoey is just naturally perceptive. "Nothing bad… I'm just feeling… restless?" It's the first time Harry has sounded so unsure in front of her. At her confusion, Harry tries to clarify, "I feel like something is coming and we need to leave… or we don't be able to. I can't explain it. I think I'm just paranoid."

Zoey's eyes widen with every word and then she's shaking her head, "No, no! I trust your gut, Harry. What do we do?" 

It marvels at Harry every time she shows such trust in him. It had always amazed him to have the trust of his friends. Harry doesn't know how he inspires it but he tries very hard not to break it. Still… 

"You're… you believe me?" 

Zoey sends him an offended look, "Are you lying to me? Why wouldn't I?" 

Harry shrugs, feeling like he should have kept his mouth shut, "Just asking."

She raised her brow, "Oh-kay. Er, like I said, what are we gonna do?" 

"Would you be mad if we packed up and left tonight?" Harry asked her seriously. 

Harry can see the impact his question has on her. Leave the relative safety, the best safety they've had since this began, on a feeling . But like Harry, she is also a teenager and she agrees, even though the raven can see how much it hurts her. Harry doesn't want to leave either but he has spent his life trusting his instincts. He can't stop now. 

The last month has also allowed Harry to explore the depths of his powers . He can only seem to directly influence his magic with his hands and in extreme cases, outbursts of accidental magic from his body. He can wish for small things but cannot conjure or transform anything. With quite a bit of effort, Harry can fill a water bottle of purified aguamenti but it's incredibly taxing. Good for desperate times, for sure. The level of healing he can do is truly miraculous, even to himself, though it's sharply tied to the amount of magic and how he words the wish. The worst Harry has dealt with remains to be Hector's horrendous bite, of which put the teen into a minor healing coma. 

The most miraculous happened a couple of weeks ago. On a run for medicines and ammo, Harry's flashlight dies in the nearly pitch black gloom of the back rooms of a store. He bumps into walls and trips over things in the dark, utterly lost until he furiously rubs his eyes in frustration and wishes he can see in the dark! When he is ready to try again, he opens his eyes and surprise! He can see! Everything looks grainy and blurry but gradually sharpens as he nears the front, where the weak sunlight filters through the windows. 

Harry hadn't mentioned it to anyone since. Leaving tonight is absolutely doable. Zoey doesn't need to see, not if Harry can. 

He has her pack a few sets of clothes, the sturdiest she has. Harry does the same. They dress into another set of clothes from the casual ones they were wearing. Belts are buckled, weapons checked and put away. Harry glances at Zoey as she almost expertly checks her knife before slipping it into the sheath on her hip. The training she got from the adults definitely helped Harry's confidence in her survival. He only hopes she doesn't freeze in the moment. 

Harry squirrelled away some of the food he brought in, gaining a hefty stockpile that Zoey never said a word about. Maybe she had known this day would come. Everyone respected Harry too much to just walk in, so hidden it remained. They divvy the food between them, weighing their bags down quite a bit. Harry took more of the cans and gave more of the bags to Zoey. She didn't like it but the fact remains that Harry is far stronger than she is. 

Harry hands over the first aid kit to ease her feelings on the matter. 

The room is nearly bare. Zoey is trying to decide which bear she wants to take. They were presents from the elders, so fond they gave her the toys their grandchildren left behind. Harry would like to say that they can take both but he is frozen with indecision. Then, Zoey sighs and places both on the bed. 

She turns away resolutely. She meets Harry's eyes, daring him to say something. But he just smiles and turns, leading the way out of the room. She doesn't know it but he's both fiercely proud of her and immensely sad. He witnessed her grow up, mature, in that moment. He's seen so many moments with his own children, though he cannot seem to recall any particular details, only the vague satisfaction and pride. The very same he sees now in Zoey. 

Harry, shadowed by Zoey, walks the halls until he comes to Guillermo's room. Harry can't hear anything beyond but knocks anyway. He doesn't want to just leave without saying anything. 

There is shuffling beyond… then Guillermo is opening the door, looking tired but awake. " El - Harry, what's wrong?" 

Harry just couldn't get rid of that title . "I wanted to say goodbye. Zoey and I are leaving."

Instead of being surprised, Guillermo simply nods and looks even more tired, "I figured." Harry doesn't know how people read him so well. Guillermo huffs a laugh, " Vato , you mumble, like, all the time ." 

Zoey bursts out into quiet laughter and Harry flushes, wanting to feel outraged but feels more called out than anything. He didn't realize he was mumbling! 

"I already talked to the guys. You guys go, they let you. But mijo, be careful out there, hm?" Guillermo clasps Harry's arm firmly, pulling him into a hug.

"Uh-thanks!" Harry stutters, still confused but willing to roll with it if it meant leaving without bloodshed. 

"And thank you for all your help, El Curador ," Guillermo grins, saying the title almost mockingly but Harry can hear the tease. "You are familia . Come back, any time, yes?" 

Harry nods as he pulls away. He doesn't have any more words as Guillermo hugs Zoey goodbye. Then, the door closes and they are alone in the hall. 

Harry wasn't expecting the easy exit. Maybe he was a lot easier to read than he thought. This Harry had a lot of ticks he hadn't noticed but it seems to work out in their favor. They meet not a soul in the halls and the guards wave them off, one pressing a bag into Harry's hand and wishing them luck as they relock the gate. 

Harry and Zoey disappear into the sea of bodies among the dead, darkened streets of Atlanta. 

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed it!

I feel like I made Harry a bit overpowered but with all those nifty, useful abilities, he's got a big target on his back. And poor Zoey has the military after her.

To my usage of Spanish, I'm so sorry if I butchered your beautiful language! I only had my poor google Fu skills to find words to use. If there are mistakes, I kindly ask you overlook them!

Thanks for reading!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Wish Magic