Through the Veil
Chapter 1: Through the Veil
The silence in the Death Room was palpable. The gentle whispers of the tattered curtains that hid the Veil were the only audible sound, accompanied by the soft glow of the blue candles that surrounded it. Harry Potter stood, gazing into the stone dais in the center of the room, his green eyes reflecting the dance of the eerie blue flames.
After everything he'd faced - Voldemort, the death of his parents, the countless battles, and the losses - the Veil fascinated him. It represented the unknown, the mystery that even magic couldn't decipher.
Luna Lovegood's words echoed in his mind, "The voices, can't you hear them? They're just beyond the veil."
Curiosity got the better of him. With a tentative step, Harry inched closer, the muted voices from beyond growing louder, or maybe it was just his imagination. He remembered Sirius, his godfather, being thrown into it. The pain of that memory was still raw, even after all these years.
Without warning, a powerful gust of wind blew, extinguishing the candles. The room plunged into darkness. Harry felt an irresistible force pulling him towards the Veil. He tried to resist, digging his heels into the ground, reaching out for something, anything, but the pull was too strong.
And then, everything went black.
---
Harry's senses were overwhelmed when he regained consciousness. The scent of decay and rotting flesh was nauseating. He was no longer in the Death Room. Instead, he found himself on a cracked asphalt road, surrounded by dilapidated buildings and overturned cars. The sky was overcast, and there was an eerie silence, punctuated by distant moans.
His glasses had fallen off in the transition, and after a quick Accio, they flew into his hand. As he pushed them back onto his face, the bleak landscape came into sharp focus. But it wasn't the desolation that worried him; it was the shambling figures in the distance, their clothes torn, skin rotting, eyes vacant.
Walkers. Or at least, that's what they seemed to resemble based on the Muggle films he'd seen.
His wand was still clutched tightly in his hand. He raised it, preparing to cast a spell to defend himself, but when he uttered the incantation, nothing happened. Panic set in. Was his magic gone? Or was it just diminished in this unfamiliar world?
Harry decided to run. He needed to get away from the walkers and find a safe place to figure out what had happened.
But the world he'd been thrown into was nothing like he'd ever encountered. The rules of magic seemed to have changed, and he was in unknown territory.
As he sprinted down the road, dodging walkers, his thoughts raced. Why was he here? Was there a purpose? And more importantly, how would he get back home?
---
Meanwhile, in a hidden spot between two buildings, a man with long greasy hair, a crossbow slung over his shoulder, observed the young man running. This man was Daryl Dixon, a survivor, and a fierce protector of his makeshift family in this post-apocalyptic world.
Daryl narrowed his eyes, trying to gauge if this newcomer was a threat. But when he saw Harry, young and seemingly defenseless, struggling against a group of walkers, his protective instincts kicked in.
Without hesitation, Daryl notched an arrow into his crossbow and took aim, shooting down two walkers that had gotten too close to Harry.
Harry, hearing the twang of the crossbow and the thud of the walkers falling, turned to see his savior. Their eyes met, and in that brief moment, a connection was formed. Both of them were lost, searching for something, and fate had thrown them together.
But as the initial relief of the rescue faded, the mistrust and uncertainties of this new world would soon come to the forefront.