Leave it By the Wayside

Chapter Seven: Light is the Laughter

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the Walking Dead.

"This was the Drakes' place," Carl commented as they parked the cars in front of a cute little house with a porch and a garden that, though completely overgrown now, had once been tended with care. "Cindy Drake was friends with my mom, they used to have dinner parties on the weekends dad had to work late."

"Well we've been staying here the past two nights, stocking up on food and supplies," said Jenny, "Haven't seen hide or hair of the owners but it looks like they mighta gotten out early on. We found the spare key under the doormat and just let ourselves in."

The doormat in question read 'Not YOU Again' but before they could all climb up the stairs and onto the porch the door was flung open and a boy of about fourteen flung himself at Jenny. Harry and Carl twitched instinctively towards their weapons, startled, but breathed a sharp sigh of relief when it was clear that this was Jenny's son.

"We heard the gunfire," said the man who had to have been the boy's father, reaching over his son to drop an equally relieved kiss on his wife's forehead, "Thought something might've happened."

Carl sucked in a breath when he saw the man and Harry shot him a questioning look. Of course Carl just shook his head, silently telling Harry not to worry about it, and Harry knew he would just have to hope that Carl was feeling more forthcoming later.

"A lot happened," said Jenny wryly, "This is Billy and that's his big sister Jamie, I found them holed up in the concession stand, and then I wouldn't have made it out of that supermarket if it weren't for these two. Carl and Harry."

"Morgan Jones, and this is Duane," said the man holding out a hand to shake, "I can't thank you enough."

"It was nothing," said Carl shaking his head a bit.

"No son, it's everything in days like these, I don't know what I would've done if anything'd happened to Jenny, why don't y'all come on inside now and we can have a talk and a meal and pretend like we're civilised folk for a while?"

Harry and Carl exchanged a quick look at that little comment but followed the Jones' and the two kids into the Drake house, "I'm not gonna say no to free food," Carl said.

"Spoken like a true teenager," snorted Jenny, pulling the door shut behind her and flicking the lock.

That gave Harry a bit of pause and he glanced back to Carl, but he just gave him a tiny nod of his head, gesturing for Harry to proceed. So Harry did, though not without a return look that said they were going to talk about why the Jones' had earned Carl's instant trust when not five minutes previous the teen had been concerned that they were marauding cannibals.

The inside of the Drake place was pretty well ransacked if the piles of items along the wall of the living room were any indicator. Jenny and Morgan seemed to have a clear idea of what they needed to keep a stock of and what could be left alone as the stash consisted mostly of hygiene products, blankets, spare clothes, batteries, tools and camping gear and a huge first aid kit.

"I'll throw an extra can of beans in," said Morgan, wandering over to the large camp pot he had set up on the dining room table, "Hope y'all like chili."

"Sounds great," said Carl.

"Better than most everything else that's tinned certainly," agreed Harry.

"Billy, Jamie," said Jenny, "We got some clothes that might fit you both, you wanna wash up and change?"

Taking a closer look at the siblings Harry noticed that they were pretty grimy and smelled like unwashed bodies and walker bits. It was a testament to how the apocalypse changed your perceptions that Harry and Carl—who didn't exactly smell like roses themselves though they had cleaned up just that morning with antiseptic soap and water from the bathroom tap—had overlooked how ragged they both were, cause that was just how kids ended up nowadays, patchy faded and dirt encrusted clothes and skin, blood spattered, grime encrusted, skinny and grim-faced with weapons held close. Those were the kids who could make it in the new world order.

To Harry's eyes it was Duane, still plump and relatively clean in a fresh red t-shirt and jeans that were still brightly blue that was weird looking. He was kind of hurting his eyes actually, or maybe it was just the instinctive flinch away from the obvious target.

"We got a rain bucket out the back if you want," added Morgan, "There inn't too much water but it'll rise the sweat off your brow."

"Thanks, that'd be great," said Carl making a beeline for the back door.

The Drakes' backyard was fenced in and mostly obscured by formerly neat shrubs and some sort of climbing plant, so Harry and Carl didn't pay the walkers in the yard kiddie corner to them much mind. Just doing as Morgan had suggested and washing their hands and faces with the tepid rainwater and running damp fingers through the tangles in their overlong hair in an effort to make it presentable-ish.

He spotted Morgan keeping an eye on them from the kitchen windows, a sharp one, assessing, but that was hardly surprising. Not with a wife and kid to think of.

"So," Harry said quietly, flashing Carl an arch look, "What do you know that I don't?"

"You want me to make you a list?"

"Ha, bloody ha," said Harry dryly, smacking him lightly on the shoulder, "Fess up, Grimes. Come on."

"Alright, alright, jeez," said Carl laughing softly, "Morgan was the one who found my dad the first time, when he woke up from a coma. He took him in gave him a place to stay, told him what was going on, basically saved his life," Carl explained.

Harry hummed slightly in surprise.

"Yeah, it was more than most anyone else would've done. Anyway, Morgan had already lost his wife by the time Dad was with him, but he still had Duane then. He and Dad they separated when Dad left for Atlanta to try and find me and mom, they were supposed to meet up once Morgan had taken care of Jenny but, well—I met him once, after, when we were at the prison. After he'd lost his son and he was different then, crazy, mostly. But I recognized him right away."

"Alright," nodded Harry, pleased at this bit of good luck, "So, that's good, we can be sure of them. We can trust them. They'll be a good addition to the group and it'll be easier to travel with more people."

"S'what I'm thinking," agreed Carl, splashing water down the ragged neck of his shirt, "Jenny's kind of a surprise, but I know Morgan can hold his own, and Billy n' Jamie too probably if they've been alone since the beginning. So it's just Duane."

"And he'll learn," added Harry.

Carl made a grunt of agreement sitting back heavily on the back step and tilting his face up to the sun.

"So, plan, do we even have one?"

"Eat, hit the house, see if we can convince them to come to the hospital with us tonight," said Carl, ticking points off on his fingers, "I don't wanna leave Dad alone for a full night if we don't have to."

"Okay," agreed Harry, "It's not far, right, your old place?"

"Just a few blocks over," nodded Carl, "I only need a few things, if it takes a half hour I'd be shocked."

"Hey, mate, you don't need to convince me, we'll go after lunch, no worries."

"Go where?" Duane put in, too loud.

Harry and Carl both leapt to their feet, hissing like cats who'd had their tails trodden on. Across the yard there was a wet snarl and a pair of thumps as the walkers in the neighbours' yard throw themselves, scrabbling against the fence.

"Sorry," whispered Duane, contrite and frightened.

"It's fine," Harry soothed the younger boy, running a quick hand along the back of Carl's arm, "Just, you've got to be quiet out here, yeah? The noise draws them in."

"I'm sorry," Duane said again in an impossibly small voice.

"Don't worry about it, mate," Harry said again, trying to be reassuring.

"Lunch ready?" added Carl, clapping Duane on the back.

Duane nodded and led them back inside to where Morgan was ladling chili that was more beans than anything into the Drake's blue patterned china out of a camp pot. Billy and Jamie were freshly scrubbed and dressed in jeans and too big t-shirts, they'd both picked muted colours, not a drop of red between them, and Jamie had pulled her raggedy bob back into a short rat tail. The cleanliness of their faces made their freckles stand out starkly on their cheeks and across the bridge of their nose and they looked so young.

"Everything okay?" asked Morgan, pausing after giving Billy a second scoop, frowning at the subdued look on Duane's face.

"There're walkers in the back there," the kid blurted, ducking under his father's arm for comfort.

Jenny sat up a bit straighter and made to rise. Carl waved her back down.

"There's only two, they'll get bored before they get through the fence," he assured her, "Just gotta be quiet when you're back there. Food smells great, thanks."

"It's been awhile since we actually had a sit down meal, with dishes and chairs and the like," added Harry, sitting gingerly, well aware that the grime of his jeans is going to rub off on the delicate looking fabric of the seat cushions. And that it seemed like a metaphor for his life.

"Thank you," said Morgan, resuming his round of the table after a short moment, ushering Duane into a seat. "You boys seem to have it pretty well together."

"We've been on the road awhile," Carl said.

And even though his tone was light, the words 'on the road' have their own implication in this messed up world and it seemed like Jenny and Morgan were aware of it. Both of them sharing a little look. Communicating without words the way only people who have been partners for a long time could as they settled in around the table.

"Daddy, the blessing," urged Duane, when it looked as though their guests were just going to dig into their food without ceremony.

"You wanna do the honours, baby?" suggested Jenny, running a hand over her son's fuzzy head fondly.

Duane thought about it carefully for a second, and cleared his throat a bit, "Good Lord, thank you for this food, and for bringing these people into our lives to keep Mama safe. Amen."

"Amen," echoed Jenny and Morgan.

And with that as all the permission they needed the four strays at the table fell on their meals like they might never see food that good again. Mostly it was just habit, conditioning. First his time with the Dursleys, and then the war against Voldemort and now this apocalypse thing had made Harry very aware that you could never be one hundred percent certain of where your next meal was coming from. But Jenny and Morgan were giving them pitying looks so Harry made himself slow down a bit. No matter what his instincts said, in these circumstances the food was not about to disappear out from under him.

It wasn't. Probably.

"So I guess we should talk," said Jenny after a long stretch of just spoons scraping over dishes.

"Sure," agreed Carl immediately, likely sensing the seriousness behind her easy words he offered her a grin that was all easy, lazy charm.

Harry didn't know where he'd learned to smile like that but it was the best weapon in his arsenal for disarming suspicion, even though there wasn't a drop of laziness or charm in Carl that Harry had ever borne witness to.

"Jenny tells me you've got a group, that you'd like us to pool resources, join forces," Morgan explained, stroking at his chin thoughtfully, "

"That's right," agreed Carl, "There's strength in numbers, and we've got good people. Once we're together again we talked about looking for a place. Something we can make permanent. Defensible."

Carl never says anything about home, but Harry can taste the ambition, the chance for it on his tongue. Resting in the silence unsaid but still heavily implied.

He'd said that home for him was the group, all their people. And Harry felt the same, he really, really did. But sitting there in the spindly chair feeling Carl practically vibrating with anticipation. With hope. He was struck by a visceral knowledge of just why everyone had been so eager, so cooperative about his whacked out plan.

Everyone, all their people. Their home. Here it is still whole, alive and breathing the whole thing. And Carl, quite possibly for the first time in all the years Harry has known him, has some thin faith that they can get it. That they can keep it.

Not for the first time since they arrived in this time, the yawning enormity of the missing piece of his being makes itself known. The emptiness behind his chest cavity where his magic used to be aching faintly. But for the first time he knows beyond any shadow of a doubt that it was worth it, worth it, worth it. Anything that lit that fire in Carl's eyes had to be worth it.

It was a comforting bit of knowledge to have.

Morgan shook his head a bit, looking at them with something like wry wonder, "You sound so sure even though you're so young…you got a plan, then?"

"Rather more of a plan than less," Harry put in, "We'd actually like to move you all to the hospital where Rick is staying tonight."

"Hospital," mused Morgan, "Woulda thought it'd be overrun."

"It probably was at some point, there's certainly enough damage. But as for the moment it's mostly cleared and defensible. And we were thinking about stripping the military encampment out front as well. But that's for later," said Harry shaking his head, "Carl and I have to make a stop at the Grimes' house. We've got an opportunity to get at a cache of weapons as well, but we may save that for tomorrow. We had the thought that you might like to take the time to pack up your supplies while Carl and I hit this house and then we'd head to the hospital together."

"This house is secure," said Jenny, "Are you sure you don't want to wait a night? We'd be cutting it close to sundown. The walkers are more active after dark we find."

Harry hummed thoughtfully at this observation. It'd been a long time since either he or Carl has worried about finding a safe-haven before dark for reasons other than poor night vision. Then again it's been awhile since they worried seriously about walkers in groups of less than a dozen, they'd simply become used to being cautious and vigilant all the time.

He glanced at Carl.

"I've gotta go back tonight," he said apologetically, "I don't want my Dad to worry."

"We can come back for you tomorrow if you'd prefer," offered Harry.

Splitting up was dangerous of course, there was always the chance that if you let a living person leave your sight it would be the last time you ever saw them. The apocalypse had a funny way of just washing people out to sea in its inevitable chaos.

Jenny and Morgan exchanged another long look, Jenny chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip while Morgan shrugged, as if he intended to defer to her judgement whatever it ended up being.

"Either option has its risks," he offered.

"Better we stick together, I think," said Jenny after a moment, chewing around a mouthful of their makeshift chili. "No telling what could happen if we lose track of each other in this mess. I wanna say we should wait and come with you to the house too, but that'll really kill our daylight."

"Times like these, it's enough make me miss cellphones," joked Morgan, "And to think I used to complain, worried about the state of our world with everyone permanently attached to a screen. Seems like a stupid thing to be concerned about now."

"Working cellphones would be nice," agreed Carl, "Useful. But we'll work with what we can get our hands on."

"Walkies," agreed Jenny, "Good ones. There's a sporting goods store in town but it'd have to be cleared. There was a group living in the camping section, they're all turned now. Couldn't do anything 'bout it while it was just me but…"

"Right," agreed Carl, "Definitely. The three of us could probably pull it off no problems."

"One run at a time," Harry chuckled, scooping up the last of his portion, and favouring the bottom of the bowl with a brief mournful look, "We don't have enough room in the Subaru to strip the whole bloody town in any case."

"Could get another vehicle," Carl pointed out, a little starry-eyed at the thought, "Or two, we've got enough drivers. There's still so much just lying around. If we had the gas…"

"Another day," Harry reiterated, "Possibly even tomorrow. For now though we should just concentrate on the two houses. The last thing we need is to make sloppy mistakes because our eyes were bigger than our stomachs."

"Such a killjoy," Carl sighed, sounding every bit the put upon teenager and offering Harry a slightly giddy grin and a nudge with his knee.

"Yes, yes, I'm terrible I'm sure," said Harry, affecting his poshest accent and sniffing delicately the way he'd seen Pansy Parkinson do a time or twelve.

That wrung a laugh or a chuckle out of the assembled, and Harry couldn't help the triumphant grin that stretched his face out of 'snobby pureblood' mode, not when Jenny was flashing him her toothpaste commercial smile and Carl had pressed himself up against his side in a brief silent embrace. Even the perpetually serious Jamie has snorted a bit into her chili. It was the best feeling.

"You're such a nerd," Carl accused once the laughter died down a bit.

"You like it," Harry countered, reaching over to grab Carl's dish and all but sauntering into the kitchen to set them in the sink with the rest of the dishes that they didn't have the spare water to bother with cleaning.

"You sure you boys are okay to do this on your own?" asked Morgan, following him into the kitchen with his own small stack of dishes.

"Positive," said Harry easily, "Even if everything goes completely sideways, which it shouldn't, Carl and I can handle ourselves. We'll be alright."

"Alright," sighed Morgan gustily, "Alright."

"Don't worry too much about us," suggested Harry, "Just get yourself packed up and if something happens it happens."

"Y'know son, that kinda talk inn't as comforting as you might think," drawled Morgan, "You're the first decent folk we've come across in a long while, it'd be a cryin' shame to see something happen to you now," he added, clapping him on the shoulder.

Harry shrugged helplessly, accepting Morgan's words for what they were, an admonishment not to overestimate themselves. To stay safe.

"We're just going a few blocks," said Carl, plopping his battered hat back onto his head, as he rose from the Drake's dining table, "We'll be back in an hour or you can assume something happened."

"Be careful," said Jenny sternly.

"Always are," Carl replied his long-legged stride taking him across the house and out the door with little more than a backwards glance complete with casual wave.

"One hour," Jenny admonished them, following them to the door to let them out and then presumably lock up behind then, "Then we come looking."

"See you in a bit," offered Harry with a grin of his own, not bothering to tell her not to bother.

Jenny was cut from the same cloth as him after all, she had that same sense of 'hero complex' about her. Got attached quickly and easily. She'd come looking even if all the evidence said that they were walker kibble. That was nice to know.

"I like them," Harry said as he dropped into the passenger seat of the Subaru, "I wasn't expecting that but they're lovely."

Carl offered him a flash off a grin for the admission as he started the car and pulled away from the curb.

"I like 'em too," he said, "I didn't know what I was expecting but they're just—"

"They're just good people," said Harry, "It's been so long since we've had the luxury of just being good people, not putting up an intimidating front. It's been so long since anybody's had the option to be a good person. A truly good person. Bloody hell, I'd forgotten what this feels like."

"It's nice," agreed Carl.

They fell into a rare smiley silence filled up with warm food and good company and a light that not even the looming uncertainty of the Grimes house and the future in the grim post-apocalyptic world could infringe on for the moment. It wouldn't last of course. But for now it was more than enough to be getting on with.

Even preoccupied as he was with the somewhat foreign fuzzy feeling in his chest he noticed when Carl started to slow, counting the numbers on the houses under his breath before grinding to a halt in front of a small two-story with white siding and a front garden that looked as though it'd been comfortably overgrown long before the end of days had gotten revved up.

"Dad wasn't much of a gardener, before," Carl explained, seeing Harry's sidelong glance.

"This is the place then?" said Harry, getting out of the car.

"Mmmm," Carl hummed coming to join him on the front walk, nudging at a crack in the paving stone with the heel of his boot.

They stood there for a long moment. Just looking.

The front door had been left swinging open but unsurprisingly there was no sign of a struggle, no rotting bodies in the yard, no broken glass or bullet holes. Just an open door swaying slightly in the breeze.

"We going in?" Harry prodded after a bit.

"Yeah," said Carl, shaking himself out of whatever stupor had come over him, snorting a bit at himself, "Yeah c'mon. I'll show you my room."

Carl slipped his gun out of its holster and strode up the walk and into the house without any of his earlier hesitation, but Harry couldn't tell if that was actual unconcern or just bravado. Either way they cleared the house just like usual and only disturbed a family of squirrels for their trouble.

The Grimes house, it was hard to think of it that way because Harry didn't see anything of the Rick or the Carl he knew in this place. The furniture matched even though some of it was clearly older than other bits, there were potted plants and vine-flower stenciling on the kitchen cabinets which were a cheery cream-yellow colour.

They cleaned out the pantry first and grabbed the keys to the sheriff's station, Carl tucking them away in his front pants pocket before tugging him a bit hesitantly into the only room with a closed door.

It was a little boy's room, blue walls and dark blue bedding the shelves filled with comic books and toys the closet filled with small clothes patterned after superheroes and cartoons.

Carl, long-limbed and lanky as he was, dropped down onto the bed with a huff and let his boots hang over the edge.

"I grew up here," he said to the ceiling, shaking his head.

There's a baseball mitt and a roughed up softball discarded in the corner behind the laundry hamper.

"It doesn't even feel like it was ever mine."

He sounded a bit relieved even as he said it.

Harry echoed his earlier move and flopped down next to, and halfway on top of Carl, letting the teen sputter and shove at him until they're lying shoulder to shoulder on the bed. Knees knocking together. There are glow in the dark star stickers on the ceiling arranged into constellations that Harry vaguely remembers the names of thanks to years of Astronomy classes.

"Least the bed's comfy," Harry offered.

Carl just snorted and hit him again, but some of the weight seemed to have lifted from his shoulders which was all Harry had really wanted.

"Are you ready to go back?"

"Yeah," he said after a long moment, and Harry had a moment to think that his eyes were very blue, "Yeah, I think I am."

AN: Okay, so that's that, a bit of a fluffy kind of chapter (dunno how that happened) but I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless, as always comments and concrit on my writing and characterization is more than welcome! I love hearing from you guys and I'm so incredibly pleased by the response this fic has received. You guys rock, much love 3

Also I am sorry about the long wait for this chapter, I struggled a bit with it and after some consideration decided not to change the POV cycle, so...please enjoy hanging off this cliff for another chapter (and please don't kill me~~)

POTENTIAL ENDGAME PAIRINGS PLEASE VOTE~~

Harry/Carl—Harry/Carl/Beth—Harry/Carl/Beth/Daryl

Carl/Beth

Rick/Michonne – Rick/Carol – Rick/Lori—Rick/Shane—Rick/Lori/Shane—Rick/Michonne/Shane—Rick/Michonne/Harry

Harry/Carl/Shane

Daryl/Beth—Daryl/Harry/Beth

Glenn/Maggie—Glenn/Maggie/Carl—Daryl/Glenn/Maggie—Daryl/Glenn/Maggie/Harry

Merle/Andrea—Merle/Carol