A well-known stage magician before the end came, Potter's reputation and renown, rivaled and surpassed even the greatest illusionists Vegas had to offer.
With a flair for the dramatic mixed with the mystery of the arcane, Potter was an international star.
His fame was rising fast and there were no doors that his boyish good looks and schoolboy charm couldn't open. Nor were there legs.
Photos of his exploits and conquests flooded the pages of grocery store tabloids. It did little to detract from his fame. In fact, both his Manager and his Press Agent encouraged the behavior saying people craved the drama. They were right as every night he performed to a sold-out crowd.
After the SHTF Potter found his world turned upside down. Gone was his parade of personal assistants, stylists, drivers, PR reps, and all the other flunkies who try to make their livings on the backs of the talented. He found himself relying once again on his friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. They had accompanied Potter on his tours around the world, Ron running the show behind the scenes, Hermione playing the role of Potter's "lovely assistant."
It's all thanks to an era of modern transportation that the over 3000 miles of American countryside could be traversed in mere hours. Hence the unheralded speed of the infection as it ravaged the nation and beyond. It was bedlam. A sight once only visited on the silver screen or the mind of greats like Romero, a sight after which one could return to their secure homes and warm beds was about to unfold at the sold-out performance of The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter Master illusionist and Escape Artist all taking place in the majestic Mirage theater.
As he began his last illusion of the evening, a death-defying illusion whereby Harry would escape the ropes and shackles of the Shadow Eaters, stage hands trained in how to tie the necessary trick knots, before being dropped onto a bed of razor-sharp blades, multiple unknown assailants entered the auditorium and began attacking anyone they could grab. The first were the ushers and security guards who tried to subdue them. At first, the crowd thought it was all a part of the show. Harry was after all known for his love of the macabre. That disillusion quickly wore off as the hot arterial blood of an usher spurt onto the face of a mother and child. Her screams shot panic through the crowd. The theater quickly became a buffet. Attackers sampled their meals before moving on to the next tasty morsel. Those who were savaged in the initial rush rose and tackled others. Within moments pandemonium had overrun the theater. Potter's handlers rushed to get him out of danger but quickly found themselves in the grips and between the teeth of the newly turned.
The plague had made its way quietly across the country in days. The media was quick to report the attacks as a result of "bath salts" or some other drug-induced nightmare. They looked into the cameras and read whatever pre-scripted government-approved fairy tales appeared on the teleprompter. It's no wonder that while Idaho was collapsing into anarchy Potter kept playing to packed houses on the Sin City Strip. Thus how he ended up in his current predicament. Fighting to survive.
"Hermione! Ron!" Harry shouts as he struggles to keep the gnashing maw of his former hairdresser from sinking into his jugular.
His struggles are answered by a thud to the creature's back. Momentarily stunned Harry tosses it to the floor as Hermione brings a large floor candlestick down on the beast's head. Once. Twice. Its head splits like a melon. She continues smashing it spreading its grey matter all over the backstage floor. "We can't leave without the book!" Without so much as a "thank you", Harry runs toward a door, not an exit out of the building that's quickly filling with mindless creatures set to dine on his flesh. No. It's the door leading to the private elevator to the top-level penthouse reserved for whatever entertainer happens to be headlining the luxury hotel.
"What? Screw the book Harry we need to get outta here!" Ron grabs Harry's arm in an attempt to drag him from the infested building. Twisting away, "No Ron. We can't leave without the book. If someone else gets it…" The words trail off as he pushes through the door and makes a break for the elevator. Ron and Hermione follow.
"Hermione help me block this door." Together she and Ron gather the small collection of furniture in the hall and do their best to barricade the door. As they lay the last piece of cheap decorative furniture in front of the door it shudders under the impact of unseen hands.
"Harry, Ron's right we need to get out of here."
"Hermione the book is all that matters." The doors to the elevator open. Gleaming steel and glistening marble greet the trio. "Get in." Hermione quickly enters the elevator taking her place behind Harry as Ron hesitates. "Ron we need the book. You know it as well as I do. Now, let's go before those things get in here." As if on cue one of the hands that had been beating on the barricaded door breaks through. The flesh of the hand tears as it is forced through the small splintered opening. Black ooze smears the door as it goes down the door tarnishing the painstakingly hand-polished imported Mahogany. Ron stumbles back into the elevator as Harry pushes the Close Door button again and again. "Damn it it always works in the movies." He curses under his breath as a second clawed hand smashes through the door. The hole is now large enough that a face can be seen. Coated in blood. Eyes maniacal. Mouth twisted in a demonic snarl. "Oh god." The doors shut and the elevator begins its journey upwards. The distance is covered in seconds as the express elevator makes only one stop. The doors reopen into the antechamber of the Performer Penthouse. Opulent and resplendent the suite is the finest that the money of the disenfranchised of the casino floor can buy. "Get the book."
"Harry. Maybe we should stay up here. Just wait for help."
"Ron first you want to leave now you want to stay."
"I'm just saying the police have to be here by now…" As he talks he walks toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, what he sees stops his words. The panoramic view it offers is not one of the wide strip lined with grand casino lights so bright they can be seen from space. The night sky is still lit by the famous drive but now it's tinged with the glowing red and orange of numerous and growing fires. People, looking like ants, run wildly in the streets, packs of snarling creatures launching themselves at the slow and weak. The flashing of police cars, ambulances, and fire engines can be seen. The noise is unable to penetrate the soundproof glass so many stories above the ground. The rising black smoke will eventually choke out the night sky as the city of sin burns to the ground. The three take it in. Jaws agape. Hermione is first to break the silence, "Harry go get the book." He struggles to pull himself away from the view of society unraveling at the seams. Finally making his way to the large safe anchored into the floor of the room provided at the insistence of Harry's Contract Rider. Entering his combination and placing his hand on the biometric security pad the door opens. Inside is only one item. A heavy wooden box, a near-perfect three-foot square, covered in ornate carvings of human figures and languages long since lost. Harry turns to find his companions still standing at the window hand in hand. Frozen in disbelief as they witness the beginnings of a horror for which there was no warning or preparation. "We can't carry the box," Harry says to no one in particular.
Turning back to the box he opens it. Inside the book sits. Where it has slept for millennia. Some say it's older than mankind as the skin from which the covers and pages are wrought is not human and remains unidentified. Harry hesitantly reaches in, cautious not to let his fingers near the mouth on the cover. As he picks it up the eyes open. Expecting the scream that normally accompanies handling the ancient text Harry is mortified when it simply smiles. "Not good. Not good at all." Harry mutters under his breath. "The Necronomicon is happy."