Hey everyone! So, I'm going to repeat this again here, because I don't know if alerts are issued for updated chapters...
But hey, look, I'm back! Yup, my father and I finally managed to get the internet working, after many, many phone calls. My father has had a few weeks home from work (he works interstate) and has thus, been able to devote some time to the issue. While I could ring, the company who looks after the internet refused to work with me as I...obviously...was not my father, and therefore did not have permission to do anything.

The whole thing became more of a problem after both my little brother and mother realised they couldn't access their university websites - so - that was apparently more important than my little fandom sites. ^_^;;
Anyway, we did it, we fixed it!

I just really, really want to say thank you, so very much for all your support. I've returned to so many messages. Thank you all. It means so much to me to know some enjoyment comes from this story. I hope, now that this is all sorted, I can return to bringing you a story you can enjoy reading. Sorry for all the trouble, and thanks for sticking with me. It really means a lot.
Thank you. ^_^

Enjoy the update.

Oh, and a small warning for this chapter. If mentions of assault, rape etc. those sorts of things aren't your cup of tea, skip over a tiny section in this chapter (it should be pretty obvious, but I'll tag it with ****) - if you've watched the episode of The Walking Dead in which this episode comes from it should be even more obvious pretty quickly. I just wanted to make sure no one gets upset. I prefer to just...suggest something happening, rather than spell it out, but still, it's awful.

With that said...
Ever onward!

Thanks again!




Chapter 16



Neville patiently stirred the pot on the stove. On one gas burner was a potion, on the other was the morning oatmeal. Snape would have been furious with him, seeing him mix his work station in such a manner—but—Professor Snape was not here, was he?

Neville smiled, despite the glum mood of the morning. At least there was a bright side to his current life; no Professor Snape.

A chair creaked behind him and he glanced around. Merle sat at the small kitchen table, cleaning a gun, rather expertly, despite only having one hand. His hook was currently on the table, not in use. The potion he was making, Neville hoped, would relieve some of the pain the man still had from the severed limb. In part, he was doing it to take his mind off the morning ahead. Michonne had left some time during the night. He wondered just how far she was going to make it before the alarm would be sounded by Andrea. Her presence was noticed the moment she emerged from the corridor into the poky kitchen, he could just smell the Governor all over her, and it sickened him. He almost stabbed the knife he had been using to cut up potion ingredients right into the chopping board.

She makes her own choices, Neville. He repeated in his mind. She's a grown woman. She can do want she wants. She makes her own choices…

"Neville. You're making breakfast. Well, this is a change. Where is Michonne?"

Neville turned away from her before his face betrayed his utmost disgust. "Not that you would care, but she left, sometime in the night."

"What!" Andrea shot out of her chair, it clattered backward, toppling over. Neville winced. "Neville! How could you let her—"

Now he turned, he could feel the heat of growing irritation flushing his cheeks, "You think I let her? You think I had any choice in what Michonne does, or in what you do? May I remind you, Andrea, I am a fifteen-year-old boy. You are both the adults here!" He slammed the pot of porridge down on the table. "You're off busy snogging the Governor, and Michonne loathes it here, and runs away…what about me? Have you even given a single thought about me? What I want?"

Andrea blinked. She covered her mouth, shaking her head, before facing him. "How dare you Neville, I'm doing this for you."

"You're sleeping with the Governor for me? Really? That's total bull."

He had not expected the slap to the face, but the force of it made his head turn and his skin burn. Andrea held back a sharp sob as she snatched back her hand, holding it to her chest. He thought she was going to apologise, but the words that tumbled out of her mouth felt forced, as if she was trying to convince herself of their worth.

"These people can help us, Neville. What the Governor has established here is a stable place, with walls and protection. We won't ever have to be outside, alone, and scared…ever again. The Governor keeps his people safe."

Neville sat himself down and spooned his porridge into a bowl. "I know you went through a lot, Andrea. I know you feel like your group abandoned you…but…Michonne and I, we would never have done that."

"She's gone now, though, hasn't she?" Andrea bitterly sniped out.

Neville gripped the edges of the table. "Because you're being selfish. We're a family, and families look out for each other."

She turned sharply for the door. "When did we ever say we were family, Neville."

He looked up, eyes wide. His hand went straight for his new wand in the pocket of his pants. He flinched before he could draw it, reminding himself of Lucius-damned-Malfoy.

"I thought," he levelled his tone, "we were."

Andrea headed for the open door. "I think I'll have breakfast elsewhere."

He waited, his heart racing in his chest, as her footsteps carried on down the passage, and the front door opened and slammed shut.

She was gone. Likely back to the Governor. Would she instantly begin complaining about Michonne? Neville bit his lips. He really hoped Michonne had enough time to get as far away as possible before the Governor sent people after her. Which he would, Merle had been pretty darn set on that fact.

"What has he done to her." Neville sagged back into his seat. "It's like she's under a spell."

"Well, women are weird, they change for the men they think they like." Merle offered his great wisdom.

"Is that from experience?" Neville offered.

"Maybe." Merle shrugged.

Sighing Neville returned to his bland oatmeal. His gaze lingered on the kitchen window. How he envied Michonne, making a break for freedom. She would be back, he knew she would be, but he just wanted to be out of this place with these weird people and most of all—away from Lucius Malfoy.

Harry's skin felt ablaze. Every bump in the road sent his nerves racing, like hot-iron pikes were jamming into his flesh, despite the cushioning of the landrover's back seat. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, already soaked with sweat, and tried to focus Luna; the way she perfectly fit into his arms and curled into his neck. The scent that reminded him of the Forbidden Forest, coating every inch of her. If he could just hold onto the vision of her for a little longer then maybe everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours would fade away.

He breathed out. It was no use.
What had happened was burned into his mind, now a waking nightmare. He scrubbed at his eyes, trying to blot out the picture of Lori's smiling face as he had uttered the unforgiveable curse at her.

"You alright there, Harry?"
He jerked upright, facing Sam. They had pulled to a stop in the small town and he hadn't even noticed. Harry heard himself laugh at the stupidity of the question coming from Sam. He should have been the one asking her if she was alright.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't make any further comment, to which he was grateful. Instead, she popped open her door and exited the landrover. Harry followed, landing on the rough gravel. The world outside seemed serine, like it was just any other summer day. His teeth grit together. It wasn't any other summer day though, it was another forsaken summer day after the end of the world.

"Right, we want baby formula, and all that…food stuff…I guess." Sam finished checking her weapons belt.

"Even if we can just find one tub." Harry offered as he jogged up beside her. "I can figure out the duplication spell on it."

"You really want to try that on baby formula. I mean, it's fine for us," Glenn rounded up on them, shot gun in hand, "we can cope with the side-effects, but the baby?"

Harry frowned. Glenn was right. He was not a master at transfiguration, and he was utterly winging the duplication spell he had made-up, not even knowing if it was safe to use on perishable foods. For all he knew, he was killing everyone with radiation or something totally crazy like that. He sighed.

"Okay, I see your point."

"This could have been solved if you had Skye had a baby at the same time." Glenn called out from ahead.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Oh, gee, I'm so sorry for not sinking up perfectly so I could be a wet-nurse. Nice to know that's what you think of me, Glenn."

"Just pointing it out."

"Yeah, well, point your smart mouth someplace else." Sam stomped off, but Harry noted the small smile on her lips and ran after her, in the direction of the pharmacy, likely their best stab for anything remotely baby-related. After all, that was where all the baby-clothes had come from.

It took some time sorting through the remaining junk, but eventually they found what they had come for, much to Harry's relief. A couple of canisters of baby-formula, stashed away deep in the sore room of the pharmacy. The little box of pre-made baby food, and teething aids, were just an added bonus that drew the biggest smile from Sam. He carried one of the baskets, and Sam carried the other while Glenn took point.

"How did people before modern times ever survive…" Harry grumbled, feeling sweat leak down his neck. "How do Muggles survive without Magic?"

Glenn started laughing. "That's what you're thinking about."

"Well, yeah?" He rested his basket on the back of the landrover. "Manuel labour is so overrated—"

The punch took him by surprise. He was sent sprawling backward, into the dirt. His skin scrapped on asphalt. He heard Sam's cry, and it sent a sharp reaction through his chest, like a spear. He crawled up, grabbing for the nearest object, a tire-iron. Swinging it, Harry landed a blow against the nearest man's leg. A cry sounded before he was struck in the head with a well-aimed kick.

"Fucking kid!"

Harry lashed out again. "Get off her!" He channelled a stupefy through his hand.

The man who had hit him stumbled backwards a few paces, allowing him just enough time to gauge the situation. Three men—no—four—he was sure it was four—had them pinned down. How, by Merlin, had he not sensed their auras?
No, that didn't matter now, he had to get Sam out of here.

He pulled his wand from his belt, aiming it at the nearest enemy. The killing curse came between his lips, and he was sure it would have hit, had he not found himself sprawled out on the ground, bleeding from lashes down his arms. He had not expected a spell, least of all the cutting curse, to come at him from behind. He had not been watching his back.

Sirius would be furious with him for such a mistake.

Dirt crunched under heavy boots as a darkened figured approached him. Pain flared through his hand and Harry slowly looked up Lucius Malfoy stepping painfully his hand that was inches away from his wand. The manic grin on the once immaculate face of the lord looked more akin to a madman, with the glint behind his eyes feral.

"Harry Potter," he spat the name out.

"I know my name, Malfoy." Harry snatched his hand back, ignoring the bloodied fingers. He swung his legs around, knocking his wand further away—away from a man who would, indeed, snap it if he got his hands on it. He somersaulted, landing on his feet, and windlessly summoned a nearby door off its hinges, splitting the wood with a cutting hex. It ripped through the nearest man standing nearby as it tore towards them. Harry twirled on his feet, throwing his wand hand forward, lashing the wooden planks together, forming a wall that encased Lucius. Pivoting on his heels Harry ran for Sam, grabbing her and heaving her to her feet.

"Move!" He ran.

How much time he had, he did not know, but he had to get her away, just far enough away to be out of Lucius' path of destruction. Glenn, where was Glenn? Harry wiped away sweat, or blood, he couldn't quite tell which it was. He could sense two other men approaching them, and a woman, hiding in the bushes. And Glenn and just taken out a third man and was now running in their direction.

His heart raced in the faintest hope they would make it—but it was a stupid, false hope, and it ended in a scream erupting from his lungs as the cruciatus curse sent him stumbling and skidding across the ground. It was just for a second, a split second, and it felt like an eternity to be under it. Another curse jolted his wand arms shoulder, knocking the bone from the socket, causing it to go limp. He vaguely heard Sam's screams, and he prayed to the Lady she hadn't encountered anything of the cruciatus.

Stones crunched beside him and he weakly rolled as Lucius crouched nearby, tapping his head playfully with a piece of bloodied wood. The man's hair was tangled, and his robe at least looked scorched and torn.

"You are, without a doubt, a truly brilliant killer." Lucius crouched over him. "But just not quite there yet, boy."

Boy. How he loathed that word. Boy.

Harry spat out blood. Aiming it at the face leaning over him. "And I will kill you, Lucius, if you keep me alive any longer. You better kill me now."

The man had the audacity to laugh at him. "I won't kill you. My Master wishes for that pleasure himself."

"Voldemort is dead."

"Really." Lucius flicked his scar. "Is he now."

He was grabbed by his shirt collar and dragged upright, only to be thrown beside Sam. A gun was aimed directly at her head as he cowled on the ground, holding a bleeding wound at her side. Glenn stood nearby, still clutching his shotgun.

Lucius turned to the man. "Drop it," he ordered.

Glenn threw his weapon to the ground. Harry winced as a stunner was shot at him and he collapsed in a heap.




Michonne kept herself to the shadows, watching as the boy was dragged into the back of the truck by the Malfoy-Lord Neville so loathed. What she had just witnessed firmly confirmed to her that the boy he had been attacking was a wizard, just like her Neville. She remained hidden, even after the men from Woodbury had driven away and the world had returned to its normalcy, and the only noise was that of nature and the disturbances caused by Walkers.

Then gradually she crept out, checking the area. Perhaps she should have countered herself lucky that Malfoy had found himself something far more interesting to chase than herself. She shivered at the sight of the blood on the cracked road, and the dead man lying in shreds nearby. The boy had put up a fight in a display she had never imagined she would have seen in her life.

But whatever curse Malfoy had thrown at him, it had taken him down without so much as a drop of blood, and she had never heard someone scream like that before, nor did she desire to again.

She crouched beside their abandoned vehicle and spotted it, what would have looked like any random stick to a passer by, was obviously not to her. Neville had described wands often enough, she knew what it was.

Crawling under the jeep, she caught the wand up and pulled back out, studying the smooth wood. It felt so ordinary in her hands. She shrugged, pocketing it. Well, she was a mundane human, after all, couldn't help it. Her attention turned to the baskets—two of them—upturned in the fight, and her heart fluttered.

Baby formula. "Oh no." She crouched beside the baskets, gathering them back up, unspoiled. She had been in half the mind to head back to Woodbury, to find Neville and inform him of the new wizard, but this made all the difference. These people had been here for a reason, an important reason. She gripped her waist for a moment, biting her teeth into her lower lip.

Neville would understand, wouldn't he, if she took just a little longer to come home to him?

Heaving up the baskets she dumped them into the back seat of the vehicle and clambered into the driver's seat. Finding the keys still in the ignition, there for a fast getaway. She sighed. She could only hope coming with an offering would pacify whatever anger she found.




The bag was ripped off his head. Harry blinked at the sudden influx of light, despite how dim the pokey room was, it was momentarily displacing to be surrounded by light again after such a long drive in darkness. He could smell sweat, and blood, but it could still be his own, or Glenn's beside him. He glanced around. Sam wasn't with them.

"Where is Sam?" He croaked out.

A Mexican man looked down at him, and he noticed it—though he was sure the man didn't mean to let it escape—a look of pity that quickly vanished to be hidden by a scowl. "None of your concern."

"None of…she is our concern, you arse!" Harry spat out. "Where is she? If you touch her, I will rip your throat open!"

The man at least flinched back slightly.

"You're right, Lucius, he's a violent little fellow." A melodious voice caught him off guard. He had not sensed another presence in the room with them, just Glenn and the solider. Harry shuffled around, expanding his aura, and yet nothing, nothing but the sensation of steel walls. His skin chilled. Muggles couldn't mask their aura, that was impossible.

Lounging on a chair, with Lucius standing behind him, like a knight to a king, was a man with a steely cold gaze in bitter blue eyes. His smile was slime, hidden behind perfection, and it sickened Harry to feel it grinning down on him like he was supposed to feel pacified by such a kindly greeting.

"What have you done with Sam?" Glenn spoke up.

"What? No, who am I? No introducing yourselves? You're both so rude." The man scoffed.

"I'm Harry," Harry spat. "This is Glenn. You're the Governor, that's Lucius Malfoy. Now where is Sam?"

"Perhaps if you answer some questions, I might let you see Sam again."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, right."

"You see, I'm very curious about a few things." The Governor steepled his fingers on the table. "And I believe you can answer my curiosity."

"Not happening," Glenn hissed. "You attacked us, unprovoked."

"We did?" The Governor touched his chest, looking to Lucius as if confused. "Why, my friend here told me you attacked him."

"Your friend." Harry rolled his eyes. "Your friend is a murdering scumbag."

"Well, we can't all be prefect, can we, Harry Potter," Lucius sneered.

Harry laughed. "Perfect?" He looked around the room. "Oh, you mean me? That's a lark, Lucius. What, are you intimidated by a fifteen-year-old? Please, grow some balls, I know your son at least has some. He didn't get them from you."

Lucius stepped forward. The Governor raised a hand, stalling him.

Harry grinned. "Still a lacky, heh? To a Muggle, no less. My, how you have fallen."

The Governor sighed. "You don't look it, but you really do have quite the tongue. Perhaps you would be so inclined to tell me who your leader is then?"

"Nope." Harry shrugged.

"How many of you are there in the prison?"

"I'd rather not say."

The edge of the Governor's lip upturned, like he was enjoying the game of tongue tag. He leant forward, tapping a finger on the table.

"Is a man called Skye there?"

"Who?" Harry blinked a few times.

"Well." The Governor stood. "This has been thrilling, but I do believe these boys need some convincing. Caesar, I leave these lads in your hands. I believe I have a date tonight."

Harry struggled to his knees. "I swear, you touch her—"

The punch landed square on his jaw, knocking him flat and he felt the floor scrape more skin off his face. He heard himself snarl as he heaved himself up, his stomach muscles cramping at the effort. The Governor paused briefly at the door, studying him with a frown. He tried again to sense an aura from the man, anything, just anything, but if he had not been staring directly at him, he would have not known the Governor was even there.

A muggle without any sense of soul. It dried his mouth. No wonder Lucius Malfoy had been drawn to this—this—this monster.

"It is a shame, boy, you would be an amazing solider."

"Do not ever, ever call me boy!" Harry shouted. The table, chairs and cupboards within the room shifted backward as though forced aside by an unseen wave. Harry lifted his head, panting heavily. Lucius' was sneering at him.

"I know you can do wandless magic, boy, dislocating your shoulder will keep you down for a while. Don't be stupid and force it out, you'll break every bone in your arm."

"If it kills you, I'd do it."

Lucius shook his head. "I believe you would."

The Malfoy lord stepped out the door and it clipped shut. A sickening sensation filled Harry's stomach and he forced down the bile in his throat. He bowed his head. Sam—where was Sam? He had promised himself he would protect her and the baby, and now this had happened.

Suddenly he was grabbed from behind, his bound arms dragging him upright. He shouted in pain, his shoulder jostled roughly.

Glenn shouted. "Leave him alone!"

"Oh, we will." Caesar slammed him down into the nearest seat. Harry struggled as his wrists where strapped down tightly. His magic burned through his dislocated shoulder and he resisted the urge to cry frustrated tears. He was just too old for accidental magic, and without a wand, or a wand arm, his magic had no place to flow freely. He had not trained himself to use anything to channel the flow, and now he was paying the price. Caesar grabbed his chin, pulling his face around.

"You have the eyes of a god, lad, if you survive this, perhaps you'll prove your worth."

"And if your leader touches Sam, I'll only be only part of your problem." Harry spat back out. "I swear, I'll burn this place to the ground, but I'll let everyone live. Her husband and my Dad won't be so nice about it. They'll rip through here and kill every last one of you."

Caesar sighed, he motioned to the men standing beside Glenn. "This is getting us nowhere. Go get the gifts."

Harry watched as the men left. It at least gave Glenn a breather. Caesar stood, cleaning his hands with a towel, looking bored.

"Can I ask a question?" Harry piped up.

"That's not how interrogations go."

"Yeah, I know, but I'm a kid." Harry grinned. "Why are you looking for Skye?"

Caesar's eyebrow lifted. "You just gave away that you know him, kid."

"I know, but in exchange, you're going to tell me why you're looking for him."

Caesar sighed. "Governor had a run in with his group awhile back."

"Yeah," Harry tipped his head to one side. "We know. He killed Skye's parents."

Caesar tapped the table top. "Listen, both of yeh, I'm only telling you this because I don't like that…Malfoy fellow. The Governor's my man, I follow him. I am loyal."

It was like he was repeating it, to tell himself something he did not really believe. Harry just nodded.

"Governor didn't kill all of them."

Harry frowned. "Skye's group, some of them are alive?"

Caesar nodded. "You'll be like them, in a minute."

"Like us?"

"Aye. Like you…"

Harry's eyes widened as two walkers were dragged in through the door.

"You'll be entertainment." Caesar clapped him roughly on the shoulder. "Have fun." He loosened the binds on the undead before ducking out the room, slamming the door shut. Harry jerked his head toward Glenn before hell broke loose. He was slammed into the table from behind as the walker attacked. He had no time to process how Glenn was reacting, he could only focus everything on himself and staying alive.




Sam sat curled in the corner of the dark room. The noises of beating on the other side of the door kept causing her to wince, despite how much she told herself to be brave, that Glenn and Harry could take it, her chest burned with the desire to cry.

A tear finally escaped, rolling down to hang on her chin. Rough fingers brushed it aside and she jerked away, slamming into a solid metal wall. She had not even felt the presence of the man crouched beside her, how had he come into the room without her hearing him?

A rush of gooseflesh beset her body as a chill spread down her neck. It was him—the Governor. She had seen him from a distance, that awful day, when what stability her ruined world had, had been upturned. He may as well have been the very embodiment of the bogeyman, evil-incarnate, the devil himself, leering down upon her like she was prey. Slowly he stood, offering her a hand. She looked at it.

"You're shitting me, right?" She spat out. "Like I'd take your hand."

"Just being a gentleman."

"You can take your gentleman act, and shove it right back up your arse."

"You're not a lady are you."

"I'm a lady to men who deserve a lady."

"Please, let me remove those binds." He stepped forward. "Make you more comfortable."

She was in half the mind to protest the removal of the binds, but his hands grabbed her wrists and before she could speak, he sliced away the ropes with a knife. She snatched back her hands, loathing the touch that made her skin crawl.

"Let them go."

The Governor walked slowly back around a table, tapping his knife to his chin. "Is the man your husband?"

Sam glanced at the ring on her finger. "Glenn…no…"

"Just wondering if he is important to you, if you're important to them?"

Sam frowned. "Of course, they're important."

"Yes, but I have a feeling that they'll endure whatever torture I give them…" he rounded the table and leant against it. "But you, on the other hand, you're the weak link."

She had no time to react to the table being slammed forward, against her, pinning her to the nearby wall. The shock winded her, leaving her wide open for the hand that wrapped tight around her neck. The table scraped across the floor as she felt herself dragged onto it with the full force of the man's strength.

"Take your clothes off," he doled out the order.

Sam smacked her hands against the table, twisting, twisting her heels as she brought her hands up, straining under the grip that held her, she shifted her centre gravity, landing a swift blow against his chin with her elbow. The Governor dropped back a pace. The grin never left his cheeks.

This time she knew his attach was coming. He went low, aiming for the one place he must have known she would have protected with her life. She clapped down on his fist with the palm of her hand, sending it away from her waist. In the next beat, his knife was at her throat, drawing blood.

"Do you really want me to make you?"

She burrowed her nails deeper into the flesh of his arm.

"It'll be the only way you're getting anything. I know what you are, what you do. Even if I tell you what you want…it'll make no difference in the end."

"Well then, I suppose we are doing this the hard way."

Sam saw lights as her head was smacked against the back of the nearby wall.




Neville wrinkled his nose at the smell of cigar smoke. Merle sat on the steps of the front porch, watching the folk of Woodbury pass them by. The puffs of smoke were blowing right back at him as he leant on the doorframe. Not a muscle in him would unwind, no matter how much he jittered his legs or tapped his fingers. He hadn't felt this strung up and sour-faced since he had been flung through a portkey into America. Perhaps that had been somewhat worse, he had been a chubby little cry-baby back then. All he could do now was feel a constant sense of bottled up frustration growing in his gut, as if fire was building to unleash hell.

Neville breathed out, stepped away from the doorframe. "Merle, will you quit with the smoking, it's making me sick."

"Well, go stand someplace else."

"You know I can't do that. Your stink is the only thing masking me from Lucius Malfoy."

Merle snorted. "See, that's why I'm smoking, to keep you safe."

"I don't mean your smoking stink. I mean your earth magic stink."

"You're being rude, kiddo."

Neville rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He thumped down the steps on the porch, catching the warmth of the sunlight on his bare neck. He wondered were Andera had gone, if she was grovelling at the ankles of her beloved Governor.

Or worse—

He shook his head. Nope. He was scraping that picture out of his mind forever. "If only I could drink bleach," he muttered.

Merle started laughing. "What have I done to yeh, kiddo. You're sounding like one of us."

"Us?" Neville looked down at the man with a frown. "Who?"

Merle sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Tah, never mind, it ain't important anymore."

Neville shrugged. "Alright, I guess." He turned back to the warm day that they were wasting away doing nothing, and being quite fabulous at it. "You know, I think I'll go make us some lemonade." He started to turn, taking the first step up the porch.

"Ohhh," Merle waved his only hand around. "Fetch some of those cookies you made!"

Neville made a motion to laugh at his energetic boyishness when it came to sweets, only to falter on the second step as his magical core suddenly reacted with a violent ripping sensation.

The breath was torn from his lungs and he staggered.
His skin was on fire, he could have sworn he was tasting it burning, or was that just Merle's cigar? Any longer and it felt as though it was going to start dripping off his bones. Just what was going on, why was his magical core trying to reach out—

No. He looked up, his eyes widening. His magical core wasn't trying to reach out to anything, it was being pulled on, yanked at, dragged even, by another wizard somewhere nearby.

A wizard experiencing a sudden, horrible experience of being unable to release their magic at all.

"Kid?" Merle shouldered his weight with an arm. "What's going on?"

It was difficult to get the words out around the sudden tightening of his throat as magic surged through him. "Harry…Harry…he's…here…"

He was compelled to move, nothing could have stopped him.