Death's Master and the Walking Dead

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor The Walking Dead

Author's Note: This fic is Slash and contains graphic description of decomposing corpses. You Have Been Warned.

Prologue

Harry stood toe to toe casting spell after spell at the dark lord however Voldemort blocked him at every turn. Harry scrambled over the rubble tumbling painfully down large pile of broken stone that had once been part of the school. A spell whizzed above his head smashing into the side of the building sending more debris falling on top of his head. Harry barely got the shield charm up before being crushed. He quickly stood up and continued running sending a cutting curse over his shoulder.

Harry stopped and turned to face Voldemort he sent his blasting curse just in time to connect with the killing curse the resulting pulse of magic sent both him and the dark lord flying back. Harry had to grit his teeth to stop from screaming out as he felt one of his ribs crack during impact. Harry took in a shaky breath and pulled himself up just as another killing curse landed next to him.

Harry had to admit Voldemort was powerful he did not tire casting killing curse after killing curse, a spell which took a considerable amount of energy to cast, without any rest. Harry could scarcely stand but the dark lord seemed no worse for wear. Harry braced himself for the incoming blast as their spells collided. Harry put as much strength in to his spell trying to over whelm Voldemort's curse but it was evenly matched before erupting into a shower of light knocking him to the ground again.

Harry stood up ready to face him again. He knew he couldn't last much longer it had taken all his strength just to stand. If he was going to die he was going to die standing. He smiled when he was the black smoke rushed out of the castle as the last horcrux was destroyed. Voldemort's face, however, contorted in disbelief when he realized what had happened.

"You're mortal now." Harry taunted his wand raised in front of him. Breathing was becoming difficult but he wouldn't let Voldemort see him weakening.

"You have defied me for the last time, boy." The dark lord growled out.

"You couldn't kill me last time what makes you think you can perform better now?" Harry knew it was suicide to bait Voldemort but he needed to stall for time he wasn't sure he would be able to cast anymore spells. His arm felt like lead but he dare not put it down.

"You are correct. You do seem rather resilient to the killing curse. Perhaps a different fate is in store for you. If death does not suit you then banishment shall be your fate." The last thing Harry saw was the dark lord falling to his knees in exhaustion and a deep blue light rushing towards him.

It was hot and the air was thick and humid when Harry awoke. It was dark and every part of his body ached. Harry felt the moist ground around him hoping to find his wand when his hand wrapped around the smooth familiar handle Harry gave a sigh of relief. Harry tried to sit up and cast a lumos spell when then in his chest was too much and he passed out.

Daryl was pissed off, Merle was in juvie again and his dad had spent all of their food money on booze and was passed out on the couch of their cabin. The sweat was rolling down his face and back as he quietly made his way through the woods. At seventeen he was a decent hunter but the squirrels were being elusive. He had given up finding food several hours ago and he was just following the trail back home, slowly not really wanting to go home and deal with father.

Daryl quickly spun around to his right when a loud crash and scream was heard. He squinted trying to see off into the darkness by the narrow beam of his flashlight. He almost didn't see it and was about to turn around when a glint of light show about two hundred yards in front of him. Daryl pulled out his crossbow and made his way through the woods he stopped in shock at the bleeding body in front of him.

Daryl looked down at the unconscious boy who was covered in blood. His clothing was nearly ripped to shreds and he was clutching a thin polished carved stick. Daryl was almost afraid to move him but it was dark and he could tell it was going to rain soon. The boy didn't stir at all in the twenty minutes it took to walk back to his house.

When he had finally gotten home he was glad his father was still knocked out on the sofa and he hoped that he would remain that way and not notice that the pickup was missing. Daryl knew he would be I for a world of hurt if his dad noticed the truck missing. Last time Merle took the truck to go into town their dad had taken a bottle to Merle's head and threw him into the cellar for two days. Merle was strong, not like him who was still a bit on the gangly side, but he was no match for ex-marine David Dixon who still fit despite spending most of his time drunk off his ass.

He had just gotten the boy situated in the passenger seat when he regained consciousness. He boy started struggling against the seat belt and panicking.

"Hey, hey, I ain't gonna hurt ya." Daryl told him while trying to restrain him so he wouldn't hurt himself. "I'm just gonna take ya to the hospital."

"No, no hospital." The boy said. Daryl didn't recognize the accent but he knew it wasn't American. The boy sounded panicked at the thought of going to the hospital.

"I can't just leave ya here you'll bleed to death." The boy seemed to be lost in thought for a moment probably think about what to tell him.

"I don't have insurance." The boy blurted out. "Most of these wounds are superficial. I just need to rest for a bit." The boy looked back at the house.

"Can't bring you in there mah daddy 'll pitch a fit." Daryl told him. "Look we got a shed out back I guess you can stay in there. It ain't got no window and you'll be hotter than a rat in the oven. I can bring you some water and bandages to clean out your wounds. I think we might have some ointment."

"Thanks" the boy said. "I appreciate it. I'm Harry by the way."

"Daryl." He replied helping Harry out of the car.

"Are you going to ask me what happened?"

"Nope." And that was that. Daryl helped Harry into the shed before running into the house to get the supplies.

Daryl helped Harry as best he could he was surprised by how fast the boy was healing. Daryl was able to discover that Harry was from England and in the US illegally which was why he couldn't go to the hospital. Harry never said why he was here or really much about his past in general but he did seem perpetually sad and especially when he looked at his stick. He told Daryl it was the only think he had from home. Daryl caught him waving it around like a conductor and he wondered if Harry had been part of an orchestra or something but Harry never said anything. Daryl did think it was cool that Harry had a holster on his forearm for his stick.

It was the first time he ever had anyone as a friend. Most people stayed away from him. "Them Dixon boys ain't nothin' but trouble." It what people in town would say. School wasn't any better when everything you own came from the goodwill and everyone knew you were the kid of the town drunk, well he was luck Merle watched out for him when he was younger. It was nice having someone to talk to. Harry would even help him catch squirrels. His dad had gotten his monthly check from the government and had run off to Atlanta to spend it with some whore in a motel six. Harry was shocked when Daryl told him that. Daryl knew he'd be gone for at least a week or two, he usually did this a couple times a year, and Harry had moved into the house.

Harry stayed for two weeks in the house. Then one day Harry said he had to go, he needed to find his friends. That was the last time he saw Harry until he was twenty-three.