Disclaimer: I do not own either fandom of this crossover, nor do I own any subject (location, characters, etc.) mentioned in these fandoms.

"Oh, honestly!" Hermione huffed, crossing her arms and giving the slowly sobering blond a stern look. "I need to check you over for any injuries that you might have!"

Harry rolled his eyes when Clarke only lifted her chin and responded with a half-hearted glare of suspicion. The healer was the last person to be checked over for injuries, which the three of them had quickly learned that she tended to be stubborn with. Ron had joked that she was just like Harry, only to yelp when the stinging hex caught his backside, and has been scowling at Harry ever since. The other teens gazed on in curiosity and caution from the baths Hermione had transfigured.

At least they were no longer covered in dirt and smelled like stale, metallic sweat (and alcohol, for some).

"Clarke," Wells, the dark-skinned boy, hesitantly spoke up, "they've done nothing but help us. I think we can trust them."

The buzzed blond's lip curled up disbelievingly when she replied, making Harry wince. "They're complete strangers. They kidnap us with their 'magic' and expect us to just go along with whatever they want. How are we supposed to know that this isn't a trick by the grounders? Whose to say that they aren't grounders themselves? I'm not letting them do anything to me until I get answers."

The atmosphere was silent for a long moment save for the splashes of water made by uncomfortable teens. Harry looked towards Hermione, who was puffing up with irritation, and shared a glance with Ron. 'She's just like Hermione', Ron whispered through Harry's mind. He apparently forgot to block the thought from Hermione and whined when another stinging hex caught his hip.

Fighting back the smile that wanted to escape, Harry turned his thoughts over in his mind. What was the best way to deal with a fiery, hard-headed girl? It was obvious that while Clarke was different in some aspects than Hermione, she was the same with intelligence. Maybe not as intense as Hermione was, but she definitely admired knowledge.

The best way to get to an intelligent mind, he had learned, was to lay out all the facts.

"Look," he finally said, moving forward until he stood in front of the girl. They were about the same height, making it easy to meet her gaze and hold it. "We've got magic, giving us an advantage over you. So I'm going to give you some options. First, we can immobilize you and check for injuries that way, leaving you unable to move, let alone speak. Second, we can simply knock you out, check you over and then let you sleep. But doing that, you wouldn't get to clean yourself up and eat.

"Lastly," here he paused, giving her a second to take in his words, "you can let Hermione - our best healer - look you over, heal you and repair your clothes. Then you can take a bath while we go out for food. Everyone can finish cleaning up while the food cooks, then we'll all eat and get a good night's sleep. How does that sound?"

Both of them ignored the protests that had started up, instead only focusing on each other. A variety of emotions warred across her face. Indecision, suspicion, hunger, exhaustion, curiosity. He was saddened to see a flash of fear, but decided to put that to the back of his mind to deal with later. At the moment, he was here in the present, not the future. There was no need to focus on what the fear could manifest into now.

Finally, after a silent stare down, Clarke nodded. "Fine," she sighed, rocking back on her heels, "I'll do what you say. But you need to answer my questions."

Harry sighed in relief and nodded. He'd be willing to answer any questions that the girl might have if it meant moving everything along. The night before had only given him a few hours of sleep, which was mostly filled with nightmares of green flashes. When he wasn't asleep, Harry's mind had been filled with memories of everyone that had died and everyone that he had left behind. Judging by the muffled sniffles that had sounded out from beside him, Hermione and Ron weren't any better off.

It was only knowing that the two had picked up his trait of not speaking about their issues until they were absolutely sure they were safe that kept Harry from inquiring after how they were dealing with everything.

"Just stay still," Hermione ordered the blond, waving her wand while she murmured the diagnostic charm. A list of her health popped up, showing the small scrapes and scratches that she had acquired, along with how much alcohol was in her body. Harry was interested to see that, just like the others, the girl was suffering from undernourishment. From what he could guess, all the other teens back at their metal dropship would probably have the same issues.

"Why can't he do it?" Clarke asked, nodding over at Harry even as she gazed at the list with a familiar, hungry glint for knowledge in her eyes. Ron snorted, shaking his head, while Harry gave a sheepish grin. "What? Am I missing something?"

Hermione bit her lip and raised a brow at Harry, as though asking whether he would tell the blond or if she would. He shrugged. "Harry is incapable of casting a simple healing charm," Hermione began explaining, digging through her bag to pull out a nutrition potion. "He once tried to heal a scrape that Ron had gotten, and ended up banishing a chunk of skin."

It wasn't a mere scrape. Ron had nicked himself with Gryffindor's sword while they were on the run, slicing across his thigh and gushing blood everywhere. Harry hadn't even stopped to think. He had cast the charm that he remembered Hermione using to heal a paper cut she had gotten. Instead of healing Ron, however, the charm had viciously fought Harry's magic and instead ripped a rather large hole into his friend's leg. It was only Hermione's frantic interference that had saved Ron's life. They were fortunate that Hermione, remembering that the blade was covered in basilisk venom, had convinced Harry to get a jar of phoenix tears from Fawkes before they had left.

"Harry has a talent known as Parselmagic," Hermione continued to explain as though she had no idea of the thoughts running through his head. A brush of sympathy against his mind showed him that she was well aware, though. "He gained it through unusual circumstances, but the talent has been in his body for so long that his magic has accepted it as a part of himself. You see, Parselmagic is a very rare talent that is only inherited through the bloodline. It's a form of wild magic, since it's creation came from a man who merged with a snake.

"Many think that it was a botched animagus transformation, but others say that it was a meeting of souls; soulmates." Hermione had all of the dropship teen's attention as she spoke, quickly working on a distracted Clarke. Harry shared a small grin with Ron. "No one truly knows the circumstances that brought forth Parselmagic, but it later became tarnished by a dark wizard, who used his talent to bring fear into others."

"But what does this," the thin brunette hesitated, "magic, have to do with him healing someone?"

Hermione beamed at the girl, probably happy that she could teach someone. The girl ducked further under the water, flushing, until her chin was submerged. "Well, Parselmagic is a magic of healing. Throughout time until recent years, snakes have been the icon of healer's. Parselmagic has its own language, Parseltongue, which is the only known way for wizards and witches to naturally speak with animals. Through this, Parselmagic connects us with snakes, who then connect us to nature, where our latent magic fuels life.

"Harry, being a Parseltongue, should be able to heal any wound that he comes across, but due to further circumstances, his Parselmagic is broken. It healed Harry his whole life. And because Parseltongues aren't allowed to heal themselves, Harry's Parselmagic has a crack from where the law of Parselmagic was broken. Whenever he tries to heal someone, his Parselmagic rebels and instead causes harm."

Circumstances. Harry snorted. Being abused and then tossed into dangerous situations were certainly strange circumstances, indeed. Fortunately, none of the teens were interested in asking after those circumstances, though Harry noticed Atom and the shaggy-haired male giving him narrow-eyed looks. But now that Hermione's lecture mode was ended, hunger and exhaustion seemed to seep through everyone's body, easily distracting them.

"Okay, lets get you into the bath," Ron coughed, clapping his hands together and standing. He started towards Clarke, who shifted her body away in defense.

Before Ron could put his foot into his mouth, Harry stepped forward and settled a hand on the girl's shoulder. "I've got it, Ron. Why don't you and 'Mione start looking for food? I'll come help once everyone's settled." Ron and Hermione shared a glance, cutting Harry from their minds, before nodding. As they walked off, talking softly to each other, Harry turned to Clarke and led her towards the fabric divider Hermione had put up. "Once you've undressed, just wrap yourself in the towel that's there and I'll block the guys from seeing, alright?"

Clarke hid a yawn behind her hand and slowly stepped out of view. While she busied herself with that, Harry turned towards the tent they had set up and shrunk the large trunk to tuck it into his pocket, staying out of view of the others. He didn't trust any of them not to go through their things, whether it was to find answers or to find something interesting.

Fabric shifting caught his attention, and Harry hurried out of the tent to see Clarke clutching the large towel around herself, her cheeks tinted a light pink. Without even looking towards the four males, Harry waved his wand and levitated the divider between the two baths, turning his head until Clarke cleared her throat. When she was comfortably settled in the water, Harry removed the divider, knowing they would probably want to talk.

"Is the water warm enough?" he asked, checking with his fingers before any could answer him. Feeling that the water was lukewarm, he tapped each bath with his wand and muttered a heating charm, hiding his grin when all of the teens breathed out sighs and relaxed further. Even Clarke had closed her eyes in bliss. "Well, I'm gonna go help find enough food for everyone," he told them, waiting for their attention before he continued. "Hermione set out soap for everyone to use, so go ahead and clean yourselves off. We should be back before you lot finish, and we'll clean your clothes so you can get dressed."

Before he completely left the warded camp, Harry looked at each of the dropship teens and made sure they were listening. "Be careful. Don't run off and get yourselves hurt."

With those parting words, Harry took off after his friends, easily tracking them due to the line of pebbles.

It reminded him of a childhood story that Dudley had ruined once. Under his Aunt's orders, Harry cleaned under his cousin's bed, throwing food wrappers and trash out, along with stained, irreparable clothes and shoes. While cleaning, he found a thin book with both covers missing, telling a tale of two children dropping breadcrumbs so they could find the path back home.

Hermione, being muggle raised, must have been the one to make a trail out of pebbles for Harry to follow.

Not long after, he stepped past a leafless chunk of trees, stumbling on some roots, and found his two friends slipping small creatures into a transfigured bag. Hermione was in the middle of spelling one to sleep when he moved closer, whispering a bone-crushing hex that made the animal's throat cave in and become limp. They had done this enough while on the run that none of them even flinched at the sickening crunch of broken bones.

Welcoming the privacy of not having their minds connected, Harry, Ron and Hermione worked in a comfortable air, softly talking to each other in low voices. More often than not, Harry would bite his lip to avoid grinning whenever Hermione showed exasperation at something Ron said. Even after being transported to an unknown world, he was glad to see that at least a small part of their friendship hadn't changed.

Especially when Harry had to step in after a desperate, pleading look from Ron.

"Could it be the radiation we heard the group talking about?" he asked, distracting Hermione long enough for Ron to breathe in relief. "We did hear some of them talking about how the world ended in nuclear blasts. A few of them expected to die from radiation in the air, 'Mione."

Successfully distracted from lecturing Ron, Hermione finished running the slicing spell over the form of a squirrel (well, Harry assumed it was a squirrel judging by the tail), and hummed. "I don't know the exact effects of radiation on the human body," admitting that made her nose wrinkle in frustration, "but it could be why we were attacked when we first got here. You said you saw blisters on our skin?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. The hand holding his holly wand dragged along the skinned animal he was holding, deftly cleaning it. "They kept popping, letting out blood and pus. But more appeared whenever one popped."

Ron pressed his lips together and glanced at the creature in his own hands. A nauseous moan escaped his lips at the blood. "Blimey," he muttered.

Hermione distractedly patted his knee in comfort, leaving a smear of red on his jeans that didn't seem to make him feel any better. "Yes, that could have been the radiation, though you had similar wounds from the fog." Harry grimaced in remembrance of Hermione cleaning and healing the bloodied blisters that had covered his legs. "We can ask Clarke when we return. Having trained in muggle medicines, she should be familiar with the human body and how certain things such as radiation could effect it."

"Speaking of which," Ron cut in, casting an uncertain glance towards Hermione, "should we really be telling them about magic?"

His mind rebelled against the idea, but part of Harry couldn't help but consider it. Being the main strategist of their trio, if Ron voiced doubts about something, him and Hermione needed to listen. This time was no different. "How do you mean?" Harry questioned, rinsing his hands with conjured water after finishing his last rodent. "We can't keep our magic from them. We're in a new world that's vastly different from our own, with dangerous people trained in combat. Secrets can't be kept from possible allies."

"I'm not saying that we keep magic hidden from them," Ron defended himself. "But we shouldn't tell them everything about it. That'll give away our weaknesses and strengths, which wouldn't be good if it comes to battle."

"Do you really think we'll have to fight?"

The hesitance in Hermione's voice pulled at Harry's chest. Though they had trained themselves to be prepared, none wanted to participate in war. Hermione was brought up in a peaceful setting, with the greatest threat being school bullies who found amusement in ridiculing her. Ron was raised in a more chaotic environment, but the only thing he ever had to worry about were the twin's pranks and living in his brother's shadows.

And while Harry had never had an easy life with the Dursley's, he's never been greeted with threats on his life. Starvation, yes. Punishment, yes. But death? Never.

The three of them, along with others at Hogwarts, were children tossed into a war that they should have never been involved in. Unfortunately, any attempts to look into ways to end the war without bloodshed were met with disappointment.

But dropped in a new Earth where Voldemort never existed, even Harry couldn't fight down the hope of finally living a somewhat peaceful life.

Would the people labeled as Grounders really let them be, though? From what they've observed and heard, the native people of this world seemed territorial, willing to kill others to keep their land to themselves. Merlin, would they do the same to him and his friends?

"I don't know, 'Mione," was what he finally said. "I don't know."

Deep inside, however, he did know.

"Well," she sniffed, brushing her pants off as she stood, "we'll discuss what to tell them about magic and what to not tell them when we return them to their camp. For now, we'd better hurry back before they attract trouble."

Hefting the bag of animals into his arms, Ron shook off the tense atmosphere and grinned. "S'not like they're Harry, right? They can't draw trouble to themselves like he does."

"Oi!"

Both of his friends laughed at his indignant response, starting the trek back to where the group of teens were waiting. He couldn't bite back his own grin or chuckles, though, not with how the simple act of laughter made them relax. It brought up the speech that Dumbledore had given about finding happiness in the dark by using light. The situation hadn't been as calm as the one they were in now (and thinking of it made Harry's gut clench because - Cedric), but the man's words brought warmth into him.

They'd figure everything out in the end. Even if they had to fight to survive. Because with his closest friends - who were family - with him, Harry knew he'd always have light to guide him in the right direction.

It's been a while since the last upload, and all I can say is sorry. Times have been very difficult for me. I don't want to use that as an excuse, but it's all I can use to explain.

Majkru was never abandoned, though. I made time (what little I had) to continue writing, even if it was a line or two. I'll continue updating, though it may be incredibly slow. With that said, I do know that y'all are actually enjoying this story, so if anyone wishes to do their own take on this idea, then they're more than welcome. It would make me feel better knowing that readers have another story to turn to that's similar to this one when updates are slow.

But during the times where I found it difficult to write for this story, I did end up jotting down ideas that I'll probably never write. If you're a writer (or even a reader who plans to write) interested in Harry Potter or The 100 (fandoms so far), feel free to take a trip to my profile to find the separate work to see if any of the ideas interest you! I'd love to see them come to life in writing. (: I'm even planning on posting the idea to this story and little notes for it, for those who are interested.

As for the chapter, I probably won't ever bring Harry's Parselmagic up again later on, so I wanted to explain why he won't be healing anyone (even himself) in the future. I remember reading a story that had Parselmagic as healing magic, though I can't remember its name. But I greatly enjoyed the idea, along with what it meant that Voldemort is using his own Parselmagic to inflict harm (I mean his Parseltongue). So I thought to add that little idea into this.

To: RaymondWrites, SlytherinBtch (lol, I love your name, even though I'm a Hufflepuff), tablekorner, and hari92 -

Thank you so much for your reviews (and private message). It took me a while to check my email for this account, but reading what you wrote is what gave me the last push of motivation I needed to continue. This isn't me asking for more reviews, by the way. I don't mind silent readers (considering I am one, lol). But y'alls support means so much to me. Thank you.

And thank you to those who favorited or followed this story. Your support means just as much and I greatly appreciate you all.

Well, sorry for the long note here and the shorter chapter. I really hope everyone enjoyed reading, though! Thank you! x