Challenge #088 Zombie Apocalypse
Title: The Outbreak
Rating/Warnings: Z for Zombie Apocalypse. loljk, PG13 I suppose.
Characters/Pairing: Harry Potter and the Dursleys.
Summary: His position exposed, Voldemort attacks the whole country with Inferi. But in Privet Drive, the only ones they care about are the ones on their doorstep.
Word Count: 882
Author's Notes: For Prompt #88 Zombie Apocalypse
Registered purchases?: Both
The whole of Privet Drive was swarming with Inferi. Harry had never seen anything like it. The Dursleys were supposed to start hiding in a few days' time, but ever since Voldemort had upped his game, the Ministry had clearly proven itself incapable of stopping this attack.
There had been reports of attacks in all major British cities. London, Glasgow, Manchester, Birmingham, Leeds, Portsmouth, Cardiff, Bristol, Liverpool, Sheffield... the media were calling it a zombie infestation, as thousands of dead were rising up and attacking the living.
Of course, that was two or three days ago. The newspapers had stopped being delivered yesterday, and the news stations all went dead that morning. The Ministry of Magic knew it to be dark wizards at play, but how could they possibly intervene without violating the Statute of Secrecy on such a widespread scale? How could they fight the fight without exposing the wizarding world, and being blamed for everything? How could they stop the sky from falling in?
Their answer, seemingly, was to do nothing at all. They were going to let the Muggle army take care of the matter. However, Inferi were notoriously resilient; even bullets to the head did not always prove effective, when their entire body was bewitched to attack the living. Cut off their heads and you would still have a body running toward a destination they feel might have a victim present, blind and hopelessly thrashing at the air.
And if the Ministry was doing nothing to stop the attack in the major cities, why would they stop an attack in a tiny bit of suburbia such as Little Whinging?
The Daily Prophet had noted a particularly cruel enchantment upon the Inferi, wherein the curse was transmitted through a bite or a scratch: be bitten by an Inferus, become an Inferus.
Werewolves were blamed, for some reason that churned Harry's stomach. They would be. Part of him wondered if Fenrir Greyback was somehow complicit in modifying this strange bit of magic; transferring a curse through bites or scratches seemed very much his forte, after all.
For now, Harry was trapped in Privet Drive with his uncle, aunt and cousin. Uncle Vernon had barricaded every door and window with furniture; Dudley had even become proactive in rationining the chocolate digestives.
"You know, I could try getting rid of them using-"
"You are not using that in this house," Uncle Vernon said, for the fiftieth time. "If they have come here for you, like you sound so sure they have, why haven't they just focused on attacking this house, eh?"
"Oh, don't even think it, Vernon," Aunt Petunia whispered; her husband ignored her.
"It's probably because they haven't figured out where you live exactly, right?"
Harry thought about the words. His uncle may have a point: the enchantment that protected Harry from Voldermort's forces seemed to be holding, even under this bizarre assault. The wizarding community knew where he lived (his address was documented from the Ministry trial a few years previous, for a start), but even so, Voldemort and his forces could not touch him here, which in turn meant Number Four was the safest place in the world right now.
"Oh, they're trampling Mrs Brookes' buddleja," Aunt Petunia moaned, peeking through a gap in the window panels at a renevant trashing through the purple-flowered bush as it pounded on the house opposite's double-glazed windows.
Harry winced. Deep down, he knew what was supposed to happen. This was a trap Voldemort had put down for him on purpose, because the Death Eaters knew enough about him know to exploit his psyche efficiently.
"I'm going out, then," Harry said, finally. "I need to stop them."
"You are NOT breaking this barricade down!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, going purple and standing in front of the door. Harry shrugged, grabbing his wand.
"I don't need to break it down," he said, "but I can't stand here and watch the street be torn apart. People are dying in the houses all around us, and nobody's going to stop them. They're too powerful.
Harry looked at Dudley, who seemed especially pained: for all the years he had spent blowing up zombies on his Playstation, Nintendo and Sega systems, none of them prepared him to take on an infestation of Inferi. And he knew it.
"Harry," Aunt Petunia said anxiously. "Don't you think they want you to go outside?"
"Yes," Harry said simply. "I know they do. I think they expect me to save everybody, because it's what Harry Potter is all about."
He sighed, as they looked at him. "And you know what? They're absolutely right."
He turned on the spot and Disapparated, reappearing outside in the middle of the street. The swarms of Inferi approached him slowly from all sides and Harry, gathering his strength and composure, sent out a wave of dazzling sunlight in every which direction, cleaning the streets with a wave of fluid fire that sent the Inferi scattering in all directions.
It might be underage magic, but Harry didn't care about being expelled from school any more.
When the entire country was being annihilated, killed as trivially as collateral damage, sitting behind a barricade and doing nothing was as evil as committing the genocide personally. There was nothing more to it.
Rob//Gryffindor//29 points + 10 bonus GET!!
Rating/Warnings: Z for Zombie Apocalypse. loljk, PG13 I suppose.
Characters/Pairing: Harry Potter and the Dursleys.
Summary: His position exposed, Voldemort attacks the whole country with Inferi. But in Privet Drive, the only ones they care about are the ones on their doorstep.
Word Count: 882
Author's Notes: For Prompt #88 Zombie Apocalypse
Registered purchases?: Both
The whole of Privet Drive was swarming with Inferi. Harry had never seen anything like it. The Dursleys were supposed to start hiding in a few days' time, but ever since Voldemort had upped his game, the Ministry had clearly proven itself incapable of stopping this attack.
There had been reports of attacks in all major British cities. London, Glasgow, Manchester, Birmingham, Leeds, Portsmouth, Cardiff, Bristol, Liverpool, Sheffield... the media were calling it a zombie infestation, as thousands of dead were rising up and attacking the living.
Of course, that was two or three days ago. The newspapers had stopped being delivered yesterday, and the news stations all went dead that morning. The Ministry of Magic knew it to be dark wizards at play, but how could they possibly intervene without violating the Statute of Secrecy on such a widespread scale? How could they fight the fight without exposing the wizarding world, and being blamed for everything? How could they stop the sky from falling in?
Their answer, seemingly, was to do nothing at all. They were going to let the Muggle army take care of the matter. However, Inferi were notoriously resilient; even bullets to the head did not always prove effective, when their entire body was bewitched to attack the living. Cut off their heads and you would still have a body running toward a destination they feel might have a victim present, blind and hopelessly thrashing at the air.
And if the Ministry was doing nothing to stop the attack in the major cities, why would they stop an attack in a tiny bit of suburbia such as Little Whinging?
The Daily Prophet had noted a particularly cruel enchantment upon the Inferi, wherein the curse was transmitted through a bite or a scratch: be bitten by an Inferus, become an Inferus.
Werewolves were blamed, for some reason that churned Harry's stomach. They would be. Part of him wondered if Fenrir Greyback was somehow complicit in modifying this strange bit of magic; transferring a curse through bites or scratches seemed very much his forte, after all.
For now, Harry was trapped in Privet Drive with his uncle, aunt and cousin. Uncle Vernon had barricaded every door and window with furniture; Dudley had even become proactive in rationining the chocolate digestives.
"You know, I could try getting rid of them using-"
"You are not using that in this house," Uncle Vernon said, for the fiftieth time. "If they have come here for you, like you sound so sure they have, why haven't they just focused on attacking this house, eh?"
"Oh, don't even think it, Vernon," Aunt Petunia whispered; her husband ignored her.
"It's probably because they haven't figured out where you live exactly, right?"
Harry thought about the words. His uncle may have a point: the enchantment that protected Harry from Voldermort's forces seemed to be holding, even under this bizarre assault. The wizarding community knew where he lived (his address was documented from the Ministry trial a few years previous, for a start), but even so, Voldemort and his forces could not touch him here, which in turn meant Number Four was the safest place in the world right now.
"Oh, they're trampling Mrs Brookes' buddleja," Aunt Petunia moaned, peeking through a gap in the window panels at a renevant trashing through the purple-flowered bush as it pounded on the house opposite's double-glazed windows.
Harry winced. Deep down, he knew what was supposed to happen. This was a trap Voldemort had put down for him on purpose, because the Death Eaters knew enough about him know to exploit his psyche efficiently.
"I'm going out, then," Harry said, finally. "I need to stop them."
"You are NOT breaking this barricade down!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, going purple and standing in front of the door. Harry shrugged, grabbing his wand.
"I don't need to break it down," he said, "but I can't stand here and watch the street be torn apart. People are dying in the houses all around us, and nobody's going to stop them. They're too powerful.
Harry looked at Dudley, who seemed especially pained: for all the years he had spent blowing up zombies on his Playstation, Nintendo and Sega systems, none of them prepared him to take on an infestation of Inferi. And he knew it.
"Harry," Aunt Petunia said anxiously. "Don't you think they want you to go outside?"
"Yes," Harry said simply. "I know they do. I think they expect me to save everybody, because it's what Harry Potter is all about."
He sighed, as they looked at him. "And you know what? They're absolutely right."
He turned on the spot and Disapparated, reappearing outside in the middle of the street. The swarms of Inferi approached him slowly from all sides and Harry, gathering his strength and composure, sent out a wave of dazzling sunlight in every which direction, cleaning the streets with a wave of fluid fire that sent the Inferi scattering in all directions.
It might be underage magic, but Harry didn't care about being expelled from school any more.
When the entire country was being annihilated, killed as trivially as collateral damage, sitting behind a barricade and doing nothing was as evil as committing the genocide personally. There was nothing more to it.
Rob//Gryffindor//29 points + 10 bonus GET!!