Only Harry Shall Have Incredibly Timely Escapes

By: Tezza1502

Disclaimer: Not sure I want to put my name to this, so J. K. Rowling definitely wouldn't. Just to be sure, 'Harry Potter' and the associated universe that comes with him ain't mine.

Notes: #SIGH# Anyone who has ever tried to get their Muse to inspire them on a specific fic will understand how frustrated I am that a few chapters of this popped into my head, when I was after some inspiration for 'The Power He Knows Not Is' instead!

As has become the norm with me, updates will be probably quite sporadic. Tag it and release, kids!

Complete and utter parody, combining HP and, well, you'll find out. Expect blood, violence, drug use, death, and inappropriate situations. Oddly enough, expect some humour, as well.

Prologue will be set a bit into sixth year, and will rewind back to in between fifth and sixth year in CH1.

PROLOGUE- A double-tap, to put it to rest…

In a quiet corner of a park, near the street called Privet Drive, two people appeared suddenly out of nowhere with barely a pop of displaced air.

"Exactly why did you feel the need to revisit this place, mister Potter?" The shorter of the two travellers by half enquired as he raised the wand in his hand and turned on his heel three hundred and sixty degrees. Satisfied that there was no-one obviously nearby, he turned back to his travelling companion and awaited an answer to his question. "From what I have gathered, you were done with this place when the Order extracted you early in the summer."

"…are you sure you want to hear it, Professor?" Harry Potter asked, finally meeting the eye of his former teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "It's not really a nice reason."

"I'm part goblin by birth, mister Potter. While I have not embraced much about my father's side of my ancestry, I do understand the need for closure, and the desire to be sure that the filth that raised you are actually dead, and can no longer haunt you anywhere but in your memories." Fillius Flitwick replied evenly.

Harry blinked. He had never actually given much thought to the circumstances that gave life to the diminutive professor next to him. He was so unfailingly cheerful at school, whether in class, the great hall, or out and about in the castle, that it was hard to believe that a darkness of the type he had just alluded to, lay in his youth.

Harry snorted to himself. He was one to talk, wasn't he? He knew exactly what it was to hide your pain, your past, and put on a mirrored mask to show the world what it wanted to see. 'I imagine by the time I reach Flitwick's age, I'll have perfected it, too. If I manage to get that old, of course.'

"Thank you, professor. For understanding, and for not trying to preach about the 'evils' of holding a grudge." Harry answered aloud while he looked uncomfortably at the front door of number four.

Fillius reached out and touched a hand to Harry's arm in a brief gesture of comfort. "While I still have a great amount of respect for Albus, I am not blind to his foibles. His overwhelming need to ensure that the most evil of us received every chance to redeem themselves, no matter the cost to the innocent, is among the worst of them." He grimaced as he stared at the movement he could see within the Dursley residence. "The dark lord would, once he found out about your relatives, collect them and confront you with them at every opportunity. You can not afford the distraction in the heat of future battles. It is a tactically sound decision to deny your enemy that opportunity." He nodded firmly. "Now, let us see what we will see in this place, then begin our search for the other survivors of Hogwarts."

Harry sighed loudly, before trying to find the mindset within himself that had allowed him to survive his life so far. Hunching his shoulders and drawing his wand, he marched across the road towards number four and cautiously looked in through the front window.

"Living room's a mess. Signs of a struggle, and I think I can see a leg poking out from behind the sofa. No Lurcher's or MI's in sight."

Flitwick nodded. "Seeing as we haven't seen any of them lurking about outside, its likely they have moved on to bloodier pastures elsewhere."

Harry grinned tightly at that bit of gallows humour.

"You are the most familiar with this house, mister Potter. What is our safest point of entry?"

Harry thought for a moment. "'Round the back, through the kitchen door. Plenty of windows to see in, and we'll be able to spread out once we're through the door, so we won't be trapped in a hallway if it goes to hell."

"Its already gone to hell, mister Potter, but I agree with your reasoning. Lead on." Fillius finished with a gesture as he drew his own wand.

Cautiously making their way to the rear of the house, Harry kept an eye on the windows, checking for any movement that would indicate that anyone inside was aware of their presence. Reaching the back door, he nodded at Fillius before gently pushing the slightly ajar door open all the way. Leading with his wand, he walked inside and stepped left, allowing Fillius to enter behind him. Scanning the room, he noted the stench of rotting meat that hung in the air and winced. At least one of his relatives was still in the house, though in what state was yet to be determined.

Listening at the doorway that led to the laundry for a moment, he nodded to his companion that there was no-one that way. Fillius nodded back that the pantry and dining room seemed to be clear as well. Harry came over and quickly whispered that the dining room opened into the living room, and that he should go that way while Harry entered from the kitchen. With a nod, they separated.

Harry glanced quickly into the hallway. Seeing it was clear, he tip-toed along the hall, past the cupboard under the stairs, listened for a moment at the bottom of the stairway to make sure that no-one was upstairs, and then leant around the entry to get a proper look into the living room. And grimaced.

Vernon Dursley was lying, quite obviously dead, on the living room floor. From the splatter and gore that was sprayed about the room, he had died neither quickly, nor painlessly. The wreckage of the various nick-knacks his wife, Petunia Dursley, had gathered over the years were strewn everywhere. The sofa was the only piece of furniture in the room that was still upright. Vernon's shotgun was still clutched in his right hand, a cartridge jammed haphazardly in the barrel, while the rest of the ammunition was scattered about what was left of his body. The smell of putrefying meat, odorous gasses vacating Vernon's bloated corpse as it rotted, and the faint tang of burnt gunpowder hung heavy in the unventilated confines of the house.

While the smell was almost enough to cause Harry to vomit, it was the sound finally pushed him over the edge. The sound of human teeth ripping meat away from the bone. The sound of skin tearing as it was jerked away from barely resisting flesh.

Turning away, Harry retched noisily in the hallway. Spitting out the bile in his mouth, Harry swore at his weakness as he quickly brought his attention back to the other occupant of the living room. "Fuckety-fuck-fuck!"

Petunia Dursley looked up from her husband's corpse, dropped the bit of forearm she had been gnawing on, and sniffed the air. Almost daintily, she wiped her bloody face on her cardigan to better allow her to smell, and took another deep breath. Twitching her head from side to side, she continued to inhale deeply as her damaged brain tried to decipher the input her disease-ravaged sense of smell was sending her.

"Ah shit, here we go again." Harry grunted as the gaunt, emaciated face of his aunt lit up. Running a desiccated tongue over cracked, peeling lips that were coated with the flesh and blood of her late husband, Petunia rose to her feet with a jerky grace and turned in Harry's direction. He saw that Vernon had managed to shoot his infected wife at least once, if the loop of charred intestine that flopped out of her stomach through her cardigan as she stood was any indication.

As she started to move towards him, he slowly backed out of the room, and into the hallway, not losing sight of her. Still walking backwards, he kept his wand pointed in her direction as she followed him, tip lit with a spell. As she stepped into the hallway and turned to face Harry, she lurched forward, as if to begin running towards him.

However, just as she was about to take her first step, a violet curse came from behind her in the living room and threw her into the wall, blowing most of her right arm and shoulder off in the process.

Harry, safely beyond the reach of the splatter of blood that followed the detonation of his aunt's upper body, kept his wand trained on her body. His caution was rewarded when she tried to get to her feet again, either ignoring or not noticing the massive amount of damage that had just been inflicted upon her.

Just as she managed to get to her knees, a second violet curse came from the living room and impacted on the back of her head, pulping her skull and spraying its contents liberally over the wall.

"Nice shot, professor." Harry said, finally lowering his wand.

Flitwick entered the hallway and grimaced down at what used to be a human being. "Not really, mister Potter. My first curse was low. It only temporarily incapacitated her, instead of ending the threat of her outright." He sighed. "These 'lurchers' are a good deal harder to kill than a normal human. They are capable of ignoring a great amount of normally lethal damage."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Head-shots seem to be the way to go, with these things. Otherwise they'll still crawl after you." Looking from what was left of his aunt, to what had not yet been consumed of his uncle, Harry was at a loss. Was he supposed to feel sad? Relieved? Ecstatic? Horrified? What?

He finally settled on relieved, for the moment. They were both dead. They couldn't harm him any more, nor could they be used against him, later. That part of his life was finally over. He could move on…

"Shit!"

Flitwick looked up sharply. "What?"

"Dudley." With that, Harry raised his wand and raced up the stairs to see if his cousin was in that part of the house. Flitwick rolled his eyes at 'impetuous bloody Gryffindor's', and followed Harry up the stairs.

After a quick search of the second floor of the house, and a five minute lecture from Flitwick about not blindly charging off on his own, as it could get him dead very quickly, Harry gave Dudley's room one last quick search, before sitting on his own bed to think.

"Is it likely that he managed to hide, or escape to safety?" Flitwick asked from the doorway.

"I really don't know." Harry shrugged. "He's not much smarter than Crabbe or Goyle, in all honesty. That said, he's managed to hide what he gets up to with his gang from his parents, and the police. And I'm talking drugs, vandalism, violent bullying, and not so petty theft. If he managed to realise what was actually happening in time, he might just have possessed enough rat cunning to survive for a while." He shook his head and stood up.

"Whatever happened to him, he's not here. And I really don't care enough anymore to want to waste time chasing all over London looking for him. I've…we've got bigger fish… to… fry…" Harry sputtered out as he felt a tingling sensation rise up through him from his feet to the top of his head. "What was that?" He shouted in surprise.

Flitwick rushed to a window, and for the first time Harry could remember, swore openly, in English. "That, mister Potter, was the feeling of anti-apparition wards going up." Another trickling sensation rose through them both. "And that would be an anti-portkey ward."

Harry joined him at the window. "And there are the lurchers we were wondering about." He nodded at the large crowd of swaying, lurching people coming down the street towards them. "Oh crap! Do you see it?"

Flitwick frowned. "Indeed. They are not straying, or wandering off, or getting distracted. They are remarkably focused, and all of them are looking in this direction. He is here."

"Then we shouldn't be." Harry stated. "C'mon. Gred and Forge left me some stuff that should buy us time to find the ward boundary. Knowing Tommy-boy, he'll keep the MI's close to him, and let this lot wear us down fighting. That said, I wouldn't put it past him to seed a few amongst them.""

"Agreed." Observing the shuffling crowd coming towards them for a moment longer, Flitwick turned away and began heading downstairs. "Which way should we go?"

"Hold up a moment." Harry ran briefly into the other rooms and looked out those windows before joining Flitwick at the top of the stairs. "We can't run for it. The streets surrounding here are filled with lurchers." He looked his companion up and down briefly. "How are you on a broom, professor?" He asked, withdrawing a school broom out of a bottomless pouch on his belt, along with his firebolt.

"It's been a decade or two, but I think I can manage." He grimaced as he took the offered broom from Harry. "However, I doubt that the dark lord will just let us fly away. While the MI's do not possess much deliberate magic any more, they are quite able to summon things to them. To say nothing of what the dark lord is capable of if he see's us."

"True." Harry agreed as he smirked for the first time in quite a while. "But like I said, the twins left me some stuff."

The lurchers had reached the house, and had begun trying to break down the doors to make their way inside, before Harry and Flitwick made a hole in the ceiling and climbed through to the roof. Looking carefully over the edge, Harry dropped half a dozen Decoy Detonators over the side. As the little explosive noise makers multiplied exponentially before they scurried into corners and detonated, he set off a few more smoke bombs to distract and confuse any MI's in the crowd as they kicked off the roof and flew the brooms away.

'So far, so good.' Harry thought as they flew just below the height of the surrounding houses, trying to stay out of sight of Voldemort, if he was nearby. Flitwick pointed towards a thick knot of black cloaks with silver masks just as the sinewy figure into middle of them started flinging curses their way.

Easily avoiding the spells, Harry and Flitwick banked hard and flew off in the opposite direction of Voldemort, quickly gaining altitude. Harry was just starting to think that this could be the easiest escape from Voldemort he had ever been a part of, when a panicked shout from behind him pulled him up short.

Turning back, he saw that a trio of black cloaks had managed to somehow pool their available power, and summon Flitwick off his broom towards them.

Swearing loudly, Harry spun around, before pulling up short and clutching the scar on his forehead. Through the pain, he managed to see something approaching him that made his eyes go wide in surprise and shock.

Voldemort was somehow flying towards him on a black cloud of magic.

"Harry Potter! Did you really think that I would not know about your relatives? Or that you would be weak enough to come back for them? I set a ward upon that house. As soon as magic was used within it, I would be informed." He laughed cruelly. "And you so considerately obliged me by lingering here until I arrived." He sneered. "You shall not escape my wrath this time." The dark lord hissed loudly at him as he began casting killing curses at the teen. "You will fall before me, just like Hogwarts has. Just like the Ministry of Magic has." He floated in front of Harry and gestured around himself. "Just like the rest of this world has."

"Good idea." Harry hissed through clenched teeth, before throwing himself into a Wronski Feint and plummeting to the ground in a bid to put some distance between himself and the dark lord trying to kill him.

Meanwhile, Flitwick had managed to turn himself in mid-air after he had been summoned off his broom, and began firing reducto's at the MI's that were summoning him towards themselves. Pulping two out of the three before he had to magically arrest his own momentum to ensure he survived the landing, he bounced to his feet and cast a wide ring of Fiendfyre.

Casting a bubblehead charm upon himself, he began exploding the heads of everything that lurched through the magical fire he had surrounded himself with. "Come on, mister Potter. It is getting uncomfortably hot in here." He muttered to himself as he banished another lurcher back through the wall of fire.

Harry, having managed to gain enough distance from Voldemort to start thinking clearly again, made his way back to where Flitwick fell in the hope that the professor had managed to keep himself alive. Seeing the ring of Fiendfyre, he breathed a sigh of relief and flew over.

Stopping high over Flitwick's position, Harry borrowed a page out of the MI's book, and summoned the professor up to him. Dipping the broom as his companion reached his level, Harry reached out and pulled him onto the back of the broom. "Hold on tight, professor!" He shouted as he accelerated away from a rapidly approaching dark lord.

Clutching Harry's robes tightly, Flitwick risked a look over his shoulder to see a snarling Voldemort starting to catch up to them. "What now, Harry? He's gaining on us."

"Grab this!" Harry shouted over his shoulder as he thrust a long, knobbly firework into the professor's hands. "Point it directly at Voldie. When the tip glows green, pull the string and let go."

Flitwick did as instructed. He pointed it directly at a suddenly wary Voldemort, waited until the tip glowed, pulled the string, and dropped it.

It fell away from them, and behind the dark lord, sputtering weakly.

Seeing Voldemort sneer and raise his wand, Flitwick clutched at Harry. "Nothing happened!"

Harry actually turned and directed at Flitwick such a cheeky grin that the professor thought he was looking at James Potter for a moment. "Wait for it!"

Voldemort was just drawing his arm back to start flinging the killing curse at the two fleeing from his wrath, when suddenly an almighty roar came from behind him. Turning, he saw a dragon made entirely of flames heading for him, mouth wide open.

Blinking with astonishment at the unexpected sight, he gathered himself and sent a contemptuous 'finite' at the construct. Contempt soon turned to shocked annoyance when the construct split into three as his spell impacted. Before he could send another spell at it, the three flaming dragons were upon him.

Flitwick watched in astonishment as three firework dragons began attacking and harassing the dark lord. Every spell Voldemort threw that impacted on one of the constructs immediately caused that dragon to multiply. As they finally cleared the edge of the anti-transportation wards, Flitwick's last sight of the spectacle was of about fifteen dragons all attempting to burn and eat the dark lord.

"What was that?" He asked as Harry landed on top of an apartment block.

"That, was an improved version of the Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs." Harry was still grinning as he stuffed his Firebolt back into his bottomless pouch. "The tip has a targeting component to it. When you pointed it at Voldie and it glowed green, it locked on to him with a tracking charm. Until he manages to dispel that, they'll keep chasing him 'til the magic gives out. Unfortunately, the more he splits them, the faster they'll burn out. So, we have at best maybe five minutes." Harry reached in to his bag and pulled out a small hoop. "So, turn that into a portkey, please, and get us the hell out of here. 'Cause Voldie's really gonna be pissed if he catches us today."

One highly uncomfortable twisting sensation later, and Harry and Flitwick were far from London. Booby trapping the portkey with another uncomfortable Weasley prank, (just in case Voldemort managed to trace the portkey) they apparated away.

A couple of jumps later, and Flitwick was reasonably assured that they were safely away. Setting up a magical tent, Flitwick then handed Harry his wand.

"Professor?" Harry looked at the wand in his hand, confused.

"I was down on the ground, amongst those horrors. They were burning to ash on all sides. Even though I had placed a bubblehead charm upon myself, we are still not completely sure if the infection can be transmitted by anything other than a bite, or blood." Flitwick smiled wanly at the concerned expression on Harry's face. "I believe that both of us will be more at ease if we stay here for a bit, and see whether I am infected. Two hours, I think, should be enough time to know for sure."

Harry nodded slowly as the professor wandered over to a nearby tree, sat down under it, and closed his eyes to meditate. Conjuring himself a chair, Harry sat down and faced in his companions direction, Flitwick's wand in his left hand, his own in his right.

Trying to relax after such an emotionally draining day, Harry distracted himself with thinking back to how all this had started…

-End of Chapter-

Notes: Next chapter will be called 'It Began With A Dream…'

Naturally, we are going to jump backwards in time, to find out why Harry is where he is now, and in the company of Flitwick.

As you might have guessed, this is going to be something of a Harry Potter/Generic Zombie crossover. Blood. Violence. Indiscriminate death. All the usual fun things that go hand in hand with zombies.