Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Promises of What's to Come
You’re from the perfect paradise
And I’m living on the darker side (Ooh, yeah)
- Someday
For as long as Regulus can remember, the town of Hogsmeade has been utterly unchanged.
You’d think, given its odd moniker, that Hogsmeade would be a place of interest—a place of whimsy, charm, or even magic. But you’d be wrong.
Because everything in the remarkably named town is entirely unremarkable.
The same shops slide open and shut each day with a mechanical precision, their welcome bells ringing with soulless consistency. The same families take perfectly-timed strolls in the early afternoon, waving civilly at each other in an almost choreographed way. And at Hogwarts High, the same cliques gather up lunch after lunch to rehash whatever tired, mundane gossip has been floating around for the better part of a year.
Regulus is fed up with the uniformity of it all. He has been ever since his family, for seemingly no reason, packed up all of their belongings—uprooting his actually exciting life—and moved here—into this grossly predictable suburban town.
He remembers protesting once or twice, but voicing his concerns never led anywhere. His parents are all too happy with the continuity and structure their new residence provides.
Toujour Pur — Always Pure: his family’s lifelong motto, though, honestly, they tend to cling more to the first half of it. ‘Always’ is a word his parents value. Always polite. Always polished. Always smart. Always smiley. Always perfect. Being ‘pure’ is less of a concern to them; it’s basically just branding at this point, more an aesthetic than a belief. Regulus, if given the chance, would change the motto to Always Predictable ; it’s far more fitting.
Since the move, Regulus has craved change like a man starved. He’s desperate for anything to come and stir up the suffocating monotony of everyday life in Hogsmeade. His old town always had something new—something real–-to offer, some surprise awaiting him in the morning, forcing him to wake up even when it all seemed too bleak. But for nearly ten years, that spontaneity has been nonexistent.
He’s stuck in a pastel bubble of predictability.
Time passes, but nothing changes .
Life remains flat, uninteresting, and totally dull.
The air never shifts. Conversations never evolve. And people never deviate from their planned paths.
Regulus awakes every morning to the same perky tunes, styles his hair with the same overpriced products, and walks the same sterile school halls with his bland crowd of so-called “friends.” And slowly—quietly—Regulus has given up fighting for change.
Because in a town like Hogsmeade, rebellion is a mere relic of the past. And Regulus—though disappointed in his surrender—can’t think of a way to break the cycle.
Freshman year of high school comes, and Regulus discards his advocacy pins. They mock him from inside his blue recycling bin. The words “We aren’t one, until we’re unified” in bright green lettering, a cartoon drawing of a zombie underneath, stare up at him in an almost taunting way. Guilt wells up in his stomach at the sight. He never wore the pin out, but he’s held onto it ever since his brother gifted it to him with the thought that maybe, someday, he’d be brave enough to don it.
In light of recent events, “someday” has begun to feel more like “never.”
It’s strange, going to school alone. Normally he and his brother, Sirius, would bike, or walk, or run, if it was a particularly cool winter’s day—not that they were common, Hogsmeade had a characteristically steady climate. But Regulus has had to come to terms with the fact that he will not be doing any of those things this year with his counterpart, as Sirius had, in the last year, taken it upon himself to stray from the status quo.
His rejection of order landed him on the street, and Regulus hasn’t seen him since.
That fact is the only reason he’s looking forward to Hogwarts, because being on the same campus means finding out if his brother is okay.
His walk to school is anything but quiet, as Regulus is not the only one who prefers a leisurely stroll to a car ride. The sidewalks are lined with students in pink and blue polos with matching trousers, everyone shuffling in the same direction like a group of well-dressed, designer cattle. Laughter bubbles up from clustered friend groups—loud, airy, and just a bit too forced.
Regulus slips on his headphones. There’s no music playing, but it gives him an excuse not to engage with any of his peers a moment before he has to. No one notices. No one ever does. He’s mastered the art of being present without being seen.
Hogwarts High looms ahead of him, tall and unnervingly pristine, its brick façade painted a color the administration calls "cheerful sandstone" and Regulus and his brother always privately called "nausea beige." The school's shining symbol of “progress” is the newly unveiled Welcome Wall—a digital billboard above the front doors that flashes saccharine affirmations and school slogans in rotating neon. “Together, we thrive!” it blares as he approaches. “Unity is our strength!”
Regulus bites his cheek to hold back a bitter laugh. No one says the quiet part out loud: Unity, as long as it’s only us.
Directly across the street from the school is an even more imposing wall, or rather a gate, but perhaps not, as “gate” implies that its purpose is to be opened. Fence is a more accurate word.
Anyway, directly across stands the steel fence that marks the line between “us” and “them,” separating the “normals” from the zombies. It’s heavily reinforced, with guards posted at all times.
The town council says it’s for the safety of everyone in Hogsmeade. They say separation is necessary because though the zombie virus is under control, it is not gone.
Zombies no longer hunger for human brains, but they have the capacity to. If they were one day integrated and that urge came back, it would disrupt everything. And there’s nothing “normals” fear more than the disruption of the carefully laid out systems that have dictated their everyday lives since the posting of the great fence.
Regulus used to question all of it. Used to stay up late at night watching pirated documentaries on the banned zombie network Sirius discovered one summer. Used to take notes in a spiral he kept hidden beneath a loose floorboard under his bed. It all seemed so important then, educating himself about the injustices and twisted history and unknowns regarding Zombietown and zombiekind.
But that was before.
Before Sirius disappeared.
Before Regulus became just another kid too afraid to ask questions.
He’s halfway up the school steps when he hears it: a commotion by the front gate. People are backing up, crowding together, whispering, pointing, terrified looks on all of their faces.
Regulus slows to a halt, adjusting the shoulder strap of his satchel, turning to peer over the heads of those next to him. A few gasps cut through the static of morning chatter.
There’s someone new.
Not just new to the school, or new to the town—Regulus knows what that kind of gasp sounds like.
New to this side of the Wall .
And they've got a mop of dark green hair atop their head.
Regulus has only ever seen blurry footage and heard horrifying, biased descriptions of one, but he knows what that means.
There’s a zombie.
Actually, here . At Hogwarts.
Regulus freezes, breath caught somewhere between his ribs and throat. Because for the first time in years, the air around him feels different. Not cheerful. Not curated.
Electric.
Something is finally changing.
And Regulus doesn’t know whether to run toward it—or away.
—-
They said it would never happen.
Every letter James sent, every speech, every protest, every carefully worded plea was met with some variation of the same phrases:
“Know your place.”
“Stick to your side.”
“That’s just the way it is.”
But tonight, for the first time ever, it’s different.
Tonight, someone finally said yes.
Not a vague maybe. Not a barely-there compromise. An honest to God, yes.
His request was finally not denied.
James is pretty sure he’s never run so fast in his life, even on the one occasion where his Z-Band malfunctioned and he zombied out, chasing his dad in circles around their cul-de-sac. The news has him practically jumping out of his skin.
In fact, he nearly trips over his own boots as he barrels through the crumbling alleyways of Z-Town, accidentally taking down someone’s laundry line while he sprints the entire way to his and his friends’ hideout. It’s a rickety old gym, walls worn down, and equipment torn up after years of use, but it’s still mostly functional. And it makes for the perfect secret meeting place, as it’s hidden in years of overgrown shrubbery and vines.
When he gets there, everyone is already waiting, huddled in a circle looking entirely dejected until they see the smile James can’t keep off his face.
“They actually approved it?” Marlene says, wide-eyed, grinning in disbelief. “You’re joking.”
James just beams, panting and breathless. “Not joking. Not dreaming. Real. Official. Signed, stamped, sealed. We’re in.”
For a moment, there’s complete silence.
James can’t stop himself from jittering, his hands shaking at his sides, and his legs quaking with adrenaline. His whole body feels like it's wired with electricity, jolts shooting through his veins rapidly.
Then, suddenly the room explodes .
Around him, the others are screaming and hugging, cheering and crying. Marls is wiping her eyes aggressively like that’ll make it less obvious how this is affecting her emotionally. Peter is trying and failing to stay calm, meanwhile the twins, Gideon and Fabian, have taken to grabbing Molly’s hands, jumping around in a circle like they’re playing Ring Around the Rosie.
And James soaks it all in.
After years of protests, years of pleas, years of being ignored and dismissed and shoved back behind the Wall—they’re going to Hogwarts High.
They’re going to actual school.
With humans.
No more filtered textbooks. No more secondhand supplies. No more dingy, flickering lights that make schoolwork practically impossible to complete. No more pretending that the world ends at the border.
At night, James can hardly sleep. His brain just keeps replaying all the possible scenarios for how tomorrow could go.
He might walk onto campus and have people swoon at his feet, or apologize profusely, realizing that they've been marginalizing a normal group of, well, zombies, for years. Or maybe it takes a few weeks, but eventually, zombies are welcomed. They sit alongside the humans at lunch or participate in student life, sitting in the bleachers and cheering on their sports teams. James imagines himself on the field, scoring the final goal in a football game, the stands shouting his name as he brings home gold. He imagines himself receiving academic awards, teachers praising his adeptness in class.
When morning finally comes, James’s spirit is so light, he feels like he could float all the way to Hogwarts. He doesn’t, obviously; he’s not some sort of alien. But he does walk. Proud. Upright. A little terrified, sure, but not enough to show it.
The guards look perturbed letting them pass into Hogsmeade, but they make no move to stop James, or anyone else, from progressing past the fence. That alone feels like a miracle.
James and his zombie posse reach the school gates as a group—a variety of kids from all across Z-Town united by a common goal. Every last one of them is dressed as neatly as they could manage—hoping to make the best possible impression, so they are allowed back. Trembling hands clutch school maps and permission slips and hope so loud it practically hums in the air.
For the briefest second, it feels like something out of a dream.
Then the headmaster meets them at the door, and calls the guards forward.
A shiny, practiced smile forms on his face, and James’s stomach drops.
“There’s been a small adjustment to the arrangement,” the man says. “You’ll still be attending Hogwarts High, of course. But—for everyone’s comfort and safety—you’ll be educated in a specially designated wing.”
The guards, now looking far too pleased, lead them to the “designated wing.”
James feels the ridiculous urge to punch the smugness off of their faces. Because it’s not a wing. It’s not even a classroom.
It's a basement.
It's a cold room with concrete floors, a single overhead spotlight, and no windows.
It feels more like a jail cell or a bunker than a place to learn. Even the dingy classrooms back in Zombietown that have survived for hundreds of years without upkeep look more passable than this.
James stands there, backpack still slung over one shoulder, surrounded by the smell of damp metal and broken promises, wondering how hope can evaporate so fast.
Sure, technically, they’re in. They’ve passed the border and they’re on Hogwart’s premises. But not really.
Not equally.
Not like they’d imagined.
He catches Sirius’ eye across the room—his jaw clenched so tight it looks painful, and James regrets ever letting things go so far. Sirius should be in school with the humans right now, not trapped in this cage, hidden under the guise of being a zombie, alongside the rest of them.
Marls has gone quiet, her normally blinding happiness, having simmered to a look of resignation. Peter is staring at the floor, equally disappointed.
James swallows hard, feeling the weight of all the unfairness settle in his chest.
This isn’t the finish line.
It’s just the start of another fight.
But at least they’ve managed to gain some ground.
If they can just prove themselves as trustworthy, hardworking students, then the humans will have to allow them into regular school. Right?
James has never backed down before, and he doesn’t intend to now when they’ve gotten so close.