Harry Potter and the Zombie Apocalypse (No challenge)
Title: Harry Potter and the Zombie Apocalypse
Summary: In the summer after Harry's fifth year, Dudley Dursley, Harry Potter, and Severus Snape are thrown together after zombies attack Privet Drive.
Characters/Pairings: Dudley Dursley, Harry Potter, Severus Snape (Gen-fic)
Genre: Adventure/Horror/Hurt/Comfort
Rating/Warnings: PG-13/Canon Dursley abuse
Word Count: 2,103/?
A/N: This began out of a challenge from hh_writersblock. It will probably be around 50K total, and I hope to update this about once a week if all goes well. Also, this first chapter contains a lot of issues about food, but I am trying to stay away from all the fatphobia that goes on with the Dursleys.
Dudley looked longingly at the slice of triple chocolate cake that sat on the counter. The luscious scent seemingly beckoned him closer and closer. His mother stood at the stove cooking some sort of foul smelling stew. Although he had lost some weight due to his diet and boxing, everyone still said it wasn’t good enough. He didn’t know how much he had to lose to be good enough, but it was as if nothing that he did would make the rest of the weight go away. Why shouldn’t he indulge in the piece of heavenly chocolate cake? It was just cake. Just food. Really good food. He was going to eat his vegetable stew, well, choke it down the best he could, so surely one piece wouldn’t hurt? And after all, it did look as if the piece had been left for him. Probably from his father. His dad had railed against the diet from the very beginning; being thin was for pansies and freaks like Harry.
Dudley leaned back on his foot to peer into the living room. His father couldn’t see him from where he was; he was just sitting on the couch staring lifelessly at the telly with a beer held carelessly in his hand. There seemed to be something particularly off about his father today, but he wasn’t certain what. As he usually did, he shoved it out of his mind and pretended that all was fine. Making sure his aunt was still heavily focused on the stew; he picked up the piece of cake and crammed it into his mouth.
All was fine. His parents didn’t stir in the slightest. He licked the chocolate frosting off his fingers. Dudley held his breath as he slowly edged his way to the sink. Lowering the plate quietly into the sink, he noticed that his mother hadn’t moved at all apart from the rhythmic cutting of the carrots. Her hands were the only part of her body that moved. Her hands kept chopping the carrots, even though there was more than plenty already chopped up.
“Are we having guests for supper?” Dudley asked.
His mother’s only answer was to continue chopping the carrots.
“Mum?” Dudley asked.
Nothing. There wasn’t even the slightest tilt of her head to acknowledge that she had heard her only son.
Backing slowly out of the kitchen, Dudley tried to rationalize his mother’s lack of response. Perhaps she was just busy. Her mind was somewhere else. Obviously, her mind was somewhere else. Dudley laughed to himself. He trudged into the living room and passed his father who didn’t even bother with even the smallest grunt of acknowledgment. It was strange. His father used to dote on him hand and foot when he was younger, but over the last couple years he had grown somewhat estranged. Not that Dudley minded of course. After all, he was already sixteen going on seventeen; he certainly didn’t need an overbearing father. Still, the fact that his freak of a cousin got far more attention between the two of them during their shared summer holidays was something he’d never forgive his cousin for. Dudley glared angrily at his father, knowing that if it did bother him, he would attribute to him being a growing teenager. He would call it normal. Everything was normal. Everything had to be normal.
He was nothing special. He didn’t want to be a freak, but he didn’t want to just be an average son to his father. Cake. Suddenly, he wanted more cake. No. This was more than a want. This was a need. He needed the cake to feel good about himself. Everything was better with cake.
Dudley inched his way back into the kitchen, padding as softly as he could and cursing the fact that he didn’t have the same ability as his cousin to sneak around to get food. Still, it seemed as if his mother was chopping carrots as if her life depended on it and was too busy to acknowledge her son sneaking more cake. After cutting a new piece out, he debated about getting a plate. A plate would make it more difficult to hide the cake, but his father wouldn’t really care that he wasn’t sticking to his diet. Would he? After an internal and somewhat lengthy debate, Dudley grabbed a porcelain plate and slid the piece of chocolate cake onto it. He closed the refrigerator door and was careful not to glance at his mother. There was nothing weird going on here. Not at all.
When Dudley walked back through the living room, he displayed the plate proudly, the giant hunk of cake sat prominently in the middle of the large dinner plate. His father didn’t make a single remark. Dudley was sure that his father had seen him with the cake. There was no doubt in his mind. His father hadn’t said anything. Not one single thing. Not one bloody thing. He didn’t care. He didn’t care at all about his son.
With a loud huff, Dudley ran up the stairs, slamming each leg heavily on every stair. No one yelled. No one said anything. No one even laughed. Once in his room, Dudley slammed his plate down on his computer desk. He picked up his Game boy and fiddled with it for a few minutes. His dad had given that to him a couple years ago after he blamed Harry for destroying his old one. He chucked it at the wall. That felt good. He grabbed some of the games and threw them at the wall as well. Soon he was chucking item after item at the wall. His eyes burned and he bit hard on his lip to keep from screaming. He wanted to smash everything, to destroy everything. If he destroyed everything, his parents, his father would have to buy him new ones. He could blame it all on Harry.
Harry. That was a brilliant idea. Dudley smiled to himself, grabbed his chocolate cake, and headed to what used to be his second bedroom. With a vicious grin, he knocked on the door, knowing full well that his freak cousin couldn’t open the door. He’d been locked in for almost twenty-four hours now.
“What do you want, Dudley?” Potter’s voice came through the door.
“How did you know it was me?”
Dudley could almost feel Potter roll his eyes at him.
“You’re parents don’t knock.”
“Oh,” he said. Not wanting to be outdone, he said quickly, “Hey Potter! Guess what I got!”
“What?” It was a dull and unenthused reply.
“Cake.”
His cousin didn’t respond.
“Chocolate cake,” Dudley said. “Triple chocolate cake.” Failing to activate a response, Dudley continued. “Triple chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and brownie fudge filling. It’s a heavenly delight. Aren’t you jealous, Potter?”
“Go away, Dudley.” His voice seemed oddly muffled even for being through the door.
“Aren’t you hungry? I know Mum and Dad haven’t fed you since they locked you in here. Considering they’re making dinner tonight, I don’t think you’re getting out today.”
No response. Dudley lifted a piece of cake to his mouth and swallowed it. Strange. It didn’t taste as good as it usually did. And it certainly didn’t feel that nagging hole. He hated that stupid hole. The idiot counselor he had been set up with had always brought it up during their sessions. The sandy-haired asshole, Mark or Marcus something or other, insisted that the hole would not be filled with food. It worked before. It could work again.
He shoveled another piece into his mouth.
“Harry,” he drawled it out in false concern. “I know what today is.”
“Congratulations, you’ve learned how to use a calendar.” Harry’s voice was cutting and sarcastic.
“It’s your birthday. And do you have cake on your birthday? Nope. But I do.” Dudley beamed. “You know why? Because I don’t do freaky things like you. So I get cake, and not just any cake, but the best kind of cake on your birthday.”
Again there was no response. What was with everyone today? Did no one want to talk to him or pay attention to him today?
Irritably he said, “Well it’s my cake. And you don’t have any. And you’re probably starving so too bad for you.” He stormed away from Harry’s door and back into his own room. That was probably one of the worst retorts to his freak cousin he had ever come up with. He vowed to come up with something better later. Maybe a crack about his parents or that freak school of his. In the meantime, he waited for his parents to call him down for dinner.
And he waited.
And waited.
And waited.
But no one ever called him down. He distracted himself with his Nintendo and munching on the various snack foods he had hidden around his room. When he realized that it was 9PM at night, and he still hadn’t had a real supper, he decided to go back downstairs. It was one of the last things he wanted to do. His parents had been…odd…and he had decided to just wait until they became normal again before dealing with them, but he was also getting a bit worried.
He crouched down the stairs, his right hand gripped firmly on the railing. When he came down into the living room he saw that his father had not moved from his spot. Not an inch. The same untouched beer was in his hand, and the telly was even on the same exact nature channel. His father didn’t even like the nature channels. Gulping, Dudley headed into the kitchen. He was relieved when he saw that his mother wasn’t chopping anymore carrots. She still stood in the same spot over the stove, the stew was on a burner, but the stove hadn’t been turned on. The pile of chopped carrots sat untouched. But his mother’s hand still moved as if it were chopping the carrots, but there was not a thing on the cutting board.
Dudley tried to say ‘Mum’ but he couldn’t choke out the word. He backed away slowly and tore through the living room and back up the stairs. He hammered on his cousin’s door. “Harry!” he whispered urgently. “Harry!”
“What, Dudley?!” came Harry’s incredulous voice. “Come to gloat about your precious cake?”
“What did you do to my parents?” Dudley demanded.
There was a heavy pause.
“What do you mean, Dudley? What’s wrong with them?”
That was odd too. His cousin sounded fearful. Why would his cousin be afraid? “They’re not acting right. They’re not moving, but they are, and it’s all freaky. What. Did. You. Do.”
“Shit.”
“Fix them! Put them back!”
“Dudley, I didn’t do it, but you need to get me out of here so I can help.”
“But I don’t know how!”
“Do you know where your dad keeps the keys?”
“He hides them even from me.”
Dudley heard Harry swear.
“What about the cupboard? Is it locked too?”
Dudley nodded miserably.
“Dudley!”
“Oh, I mean yes, it’s locked.”
He heard Harry sigh and throw something around in the room. Before he heard Harry’s voice again, he thought he heard him take a deep breath. “Dudley, listen to me, this is important. Don’t go back downstairs under any circumstances. Stay away from your parents. Do not touch them or interact with them, in fact, stay here. Hedwig is supposed to be back tomorrow and I can owl, er, send a letter for help.”
Dudley clenched his fists. “It’s really not you, is it?”
“I wish it was, Dudley. I really wish it was.”
Dudley slid down the wall and leaned his head next to the heavily locked door. He curled his legs up to his chest and hugged his arms around them.
“Harry?” Dudley began.
“What?” Harry asked softly.
“Are we…Am I…?” he couldn’t voice the words.
“We just have to wait right now, Dudley.”
The words weren’t comforting. They both knew that.
“Harry,” Dudley began again.
“Yeah?”
“Will my parents be okay?”
“I don’t know, Dudley. I don’t know.”
Why on earth had he expected his cousin to give him comfort, he didn’t know. Tiredly, he closed his eyes and began to fall asleep on the floor. The house was quieter than it had ever been. He never heard anyone come up the stairs. He never heard his father’s loud snores or his mother’s bathroom routine. His sleep was fitful and he was finally realizing what he had been denying all afternoon. There was something very wrong at Number Four Privet Drive.
70 points for Slytherin
Summary: In the summer after Harry's fifth year, Dudley Dursley, Harry Potter, and Severus Snape are thrown together after zombies attack Privet Drive.
Characters/Pairings: Dudley Dursley, Harry Potter, Severus Snape (Gen-fic)
Genre: Adventure/Horror/Hurt/Comfort
Rating/Warnings: PG-13/Canon Dursley abuse
Word Count: 2,103/?
A/N: This began out of a challenge from hh_writersblock. It will probably be around 50K total, and I hope to update this about once a week if all goes well. Also, this first chapter contains a lot of issues about food, but I am trying to stay away from all the fatphobia that goes on with the Dursleys.
Dudley looked longingly at the slice of triple chocolate cake that sat on the counter. The luscious scent seemingly beckoned him closer and closer. His mother stood at the stove cooking some sort of foul smelling stew. Although he had lost some weight due to his diet and boxing, everyone still said it wasn’t good enough. He didn’t know how much he had to lose to be good enough, but it was as if nothing that he did would make the rest of the weight go away. Why shouldn’t he indulge in the piece of heavenly chocolate cake? It was just cake. Just food. Really good food. He was going to eat his vegetable stew, well, choke it down the best he could, so surely one piece wouldn’t hurt? And after all, it did look as if the piece had been left for him. Probably from his father. His dad had railed against the diet from the very beginning; being thin was for pansies and freaks like Harry.
Dudley leaned back on his foot to peer into the living room. His father couldn’t see him from where he was; he was just sitting on the couch staring lifelessly at the telly with a beer held carelessly in his hand. There seemed to be something particularly off about his father today, but he wasn’t certain what. As he usually did, he shoved it out of his mind and pretended that all was fine. Making sure his aunt was still heavily focused on the stew; he picked up the piece of cake and crammed it into his mouth.
All was fine. His parents didn’t stir in the slightest. He licked the chocolate frosting off his fingers. Dudley held his breath as he slowly edged his way to the sink. Lowering the plate quietly into the sink, he noticed that his mother hadn’t moved at all apart from the rhythmic cutting of the carrots. Her hands were the only part of her body that moved. Her hands kept chopping the carrots, even though there was more than plenty already chopped up.
“Are we having guests for supper?” Dudley asked.
His mother’s only answer was to continue chopping the carrots.
“Mum?” Dudley asked.
Nothing. There wasn’t even the slightest tilt of her head to acknowledge that she had heard her only son.
Backing slowly out of the kitchen, Dudley tried to rationalize his mother’s lack of response. Perhaps she was just busy. Her mind was somewhere else. Obviously, her mind was somewhere else. Dudley laughed to himself. He trudged into the living room and passed his father who didn’t even bother with even the smallest grunt of acknowledgment. It was strange. His father used to dote on him hand and foot when he was younger, but over the last couple years he had grown somewhat estranged. Not that Dudley minded of course. After all, he was already sixteen going on seventeen; he certainly didn’t need an overbearing father. Still, the fact that his freak of a cousin got far more attention between the two of them during their shared summer holidays was something he’d never forgive his cousin for. Dudley glared angrily at his father, knowing that if it did bother him, he would attribute to him being a growing teenager. He would call it normal. Everything was normal. Everything had to be normal.
He was nothing special. He didn’t want to be a freak, but he didn’t want to just be an average son to his father. Cake. Suddenly, he wanted more cake. No. This was more than a want. This was a need. He needed the cake to feel good about himself. Everything was better with cake.
Dudley inched his way back into the kitchen, padding as softly as he could and cursing the fact that he didn’t have the same ability as his cousin to sneak around to get food. Still, it seemed as if his mother was chopping carrots as if her life depended on it and was too busy to acknowledge her son sneaking more cake. After cutting a new piece out, he debated about getting a plate. A plate would make it more difficult to hide the cake, but his father wouldn’t really care that he wasn’t sticking to his diet. Would he? After an internal and somewhat lengthy debate, Dudley grabbed a porcelain plate and slid the piece of chocolate cake onto it. He closed the refrigerator door and was careful not to glance at his mother. There was nothing weird going on here. Not at all.
When Dudley walked back through the living room, he displayed the plate proudly, the giant hunk of cake sat prominently in the middle of the large dinner plate. His father didn’t make a single remark. Dudley was sure that his father had seen him with the cake. There was no doubt in his mind. His father hadn’t said anything. Not one single thing. Not one bloody thing. He didn’t care. He didn’t care at all about his son.
With a loud huff, Dudley ran up the stairs, slamming each leg heavily on every stair. No one yelled. No one said anything. No one even laughed. Once in his room, Dudley slammed his plate down on his computer desk. He picked up his Game boy and fiddled with it for a few minutes. His dad had given that to him a couple years ago after he blamed Harry for destroying his old one. He chucked it at the wall. That felt good. He grabbed some of the games and threw them at the wall as well. Soon he was chucking item after item at the wall. His eyes burned and he bit hard on his lip to keep from screaming. He wanted to smash everything, to destroy everything. If he destroyed everything, his parents, his father would have to buy him new ones. He could blame it all on Harry.
Harry. That was a brilliant idea. Dudley smiled to himself, grabbed his chocolate cake, and headed to what used to be his second bedroom. With a vicious grin, he knocked on the door, knowing full well that his freak cousin couldn’t open the door. He’d been locked in for almost twenty-four hours now.
“What do you want, Dudley?” Potter’s voice came through the door.
“How did you know it was me?”
Dudley could almost feel Potter roll his eyes at him.
“You’re parents don’t knock.”
“Oh,” he said. Not wanting to be outdone, he said quickly, “Hey Potter! Guess what I got!”
“What?” It was a dull and unenthused reply.
“Cake.”
His cousin didn’t respond.
“Chocolate cake,” Dudley said. “Triple chocolate cake.” Failing to activate a response, Dudley continued. “Triple chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and brownie fudge filling. It’s a heavenly delight. Aren’t you jealous, Potter?”
“Go away, Dudley.” His voice seemed oddly muffled even for being through the door.
“Aren’t you hungry? I know Mum and Dad haven’t fed you since they locked you in here. Considering they’re making dinner tonight, I don’t think you’re getting out today.”
No response. Dudley lifted a piece of cake to his mouth and swallowed it. Strange. It didn’t taste as good as it usually did. And it certainly didn’t feel that nagging hole. He hated that stupid hole. The idiot counselor he had been set up with had always brought it up during their sessions. The sandy-haired asshole, Mark or Marcus something or other, insisted that the hole would not be filled with food. It worked before. It could work again.
He shoveled another piece into his mouth.
“Harry,” he drawled it out in false concern. “I know what today is.”
“Congratulations, you’ve learned how to use a calendar.” Harry’s voice was cutting and sarcastic.
“It’s your birthday. And do you have cake on your birthday? Nope. But I do.” Dudley beamed. “You know why? Because I don’t do freaky things like you. So I get cake, and not just any cake, but the best kind of cake on your birthday.”
Again there was no response. What was with everyone today? Did no one want to talk to him or pay attention to him today?
Irritably he said, “Well it’s my cake. And you don’t have any. And you’re probably starving so too bad for you.” He stormed away from Harry’s door and back into his own room. That was probably one of the worst retorts to his freak cousin he had ever come up with. He vowed to come up with something better later. Maybe a crack about his parents or that freak school of his. In the meantime, he waited for his parents to call him down for dinner.
And he waited.
And waited.
And waited.
But no one ever called him down. He distracted himself with his Nintendo and munching on the various snack foods he had hidden around his room. When he realized that it was 9PM at night, and he still hadn’t had a real supper, he decided to go back downstairs. It was one of the last things he wanted to do. His parents had been…odd…and he had decided to just wait until they became normal again before dealing with them, but he was also getting a bit worried.
He crouched down the stairs, his right hand gripped firmly on the railing. When he came down into the living room he saw that his father had not moved from his spot. Not an inch. The same untouched beer was in his hand, and the telly was even on the same exact nature channel. His father didn’t even like the nature channels. Gulping, Dudley headed into the kitchen. He was relieved when he saw that his mother wasn’t chopping anymore carrots. She still stood in the same spot over the stove, the stew was on a burner, but the stove hadn’t been turned on. The pile of chopped carrots sat untouched. But his mother’s hand still moved as if it were chopping the carrots, but there was not a thing on the cutting board.
Dudley tried to say ‘Mum’ but he couldn’t choke out the word. He backed away slowly and tore through the living room and back up the stairs. He hammered on his cousin’s door. “Harry!” he whispered urgently. “Harry!”
“What, Dudley?!” came Harry’s incredulous voice. “Come to gloat about your precious cake?”
“What did you do to my parents?” Dudley demanded.
There was a heavy pause.
“What do you mean, Dudley? What’s wrong with them?”
That was odd too. His cousin sounded fearful. Why would his cousin be afraid? “They’re not acting right. They’re not moving, but they are, and it’s all freaky. What. Did. You. Do.”
“Shit.”
“Fix them! Put them back!”
“Dudley, I didn’t do it, but you need to get me out of here so I can help.”
“But I don’t know how!”
“Do you know where your dad keeps the keys?”
“He hides them even from me.”
Dudley heard Harry swear.
“What about the cupboard? Is it locked too?”
Dudley nodded miserably.
“Dudley!”
“Oh, I mean yes, it’s locked.”
He heard Harry sigh and throw something around in the room. Before he heard Harry’s voice again, he thought he heard him take a deep breath. “Dudley, listen to me, this is important. Don’t go back downstairs under any circumstances. Stay away from your parents. Do not touch them or interact with them, in fact, stay here. Hedwig is supposed to be back tomorrow and I can owl, er, send a letter for help.”
Dudley clenched his fists. “It’s really not you, is it?”
“I wish it was, Dudley. I really wish it was.”
Dudley slid down the wall and leaned his head next to the heavily locked door. He curled his legs up to his chest and hugged his arms around them.
“Harry?” Dudley began.
“What?” Harry asked softly.
“Are we…Am I…?” he couldn’t voice the words.
“We just have to wait right now, Dudley.”
The words weren’t comforting. They both knew that.
“Harry,” Dudley began again.
“Yeah?”
“Will my parents be okay?”
“I don’t know, Dudley. I don’t know.”
Why on earth had he expected his cousin to give him comfort, he didn’t know. Tiredly, he closed his eyes and began to fall asleep on the floor. The house was quieter than it had ever been. He never heard anyone come up the stairs. He never heard his father’s loud snores or his mother’s bathroom routine. His sleep was fitful and he was finally realizing what he had been denying all afternoon. There was something very wrong at Number Four Privet Drive.
70 points for Slytherin