Chapter One: Is it Paranoia?

A small, gritty road was the only sign of civilization leading towards the forest, which had seemed to cover nearly everything in wet, mustard green overgrowth. Two battered signs were barely visible underneath a heavy string of climbing fern, which seemed to knot itself around the grooves in the wood. Just beyond these signs stood what could be mistaken as a doorway; someone had bashed through a veil of vines, giving the appearance of a natural arch. Past this, the sound of fire could be heard, and stepping closer would reveal a group of four people, neatly sitting on a few various logs. They were whispering, hardly audible, poking sticks into the little ring of fire, kept at bay by a couple of stones.

"I 'eard Kenny quit last week," one them spoke, Scottish accent heavy, leaning closer to the woman on his right.

"Did he?"

"Oh, yeah. Made a big deal, too. I doubt Johnson's happy."

"Probably not," she agreed, taking her stick and watching as the kindling jumped through the flames. "Johnson hates quitters. I'll bet he's going to tell the whole neighborhood about it, and no one's ever going to hire Kenny again. Poor guy. Bad move, really."

"Bad move? Career-ending, I'd say," the man huffed, pulling himself up with importance. "I'd never quit like that. Kenny's a right fool."

"Foolish, yeah," she nodded, stirring the fire again. "Hope he's okay, though. Got a family to feed."

"Ay, sure, but he should've thought of that before he challenged Johnson!"

"Talking 'bout Kenny?" Another man turned towards the woman, face searching for gossip.

"Yeah," she replied, seemingly bored.

"Well?" He prompted, eyes flashing in the dark.

"'Well' nothing. He quit. That's it."

"Johnson knows?"

"Bloody hell, of course he knows," the other man butted in with quiet fervor, coming dangerously close to the fire, face lit dramatically by orange light. "They said he was goin' to fire Kenny that week. Guess Kenny knew and thought it'd be better to quit. Not like we all knew."

"I didn't know," the woman said crossly, her scowl hidden by the night. "Maybe he really did just quit. You two are always looking for excitement. And trouble," she added, turning away from both of them.

"Aw, Lauren, you didn't really like Kenny all that much, did you?"

She glared viciously at the man beside her. "Of course I didn't like him, but it's not like I like you either. The both of you are annoying."

"Oh, guess I should quit too," he quipped, smiling at the ground.

"Witty, aren't you?"

"Very."

"Oi," another woman's voice broke out from across the fire, "shut up, will you? I think I heard something."

Lauren let out an impatient groan, turning to the man beside her with a furrowed expression.

"You're so paranoid, Patricia," Lauren let her head drop to her hands. "There's nothing out here. Pete just thought it'd be a funny little jest to come drop us off in the middle of nowhere."

"I think it's doing wonders for team-building," Pete, the man beside her, smirked. "This is the most you've ever spoken to me, Lauren, and I'll say that that's an accomplishment."

"You're not that special, you know," she remarked dryly, poking the fire again. This time, her stick caught on fire, but she calmly blew it out, quickly then resuming to prodding at the big, nearly charred log in the middle of the flames. "Sometimes, you act like a real prick, Pete."

"Oh-ho, insulting me now, eh? Knew you'd run out of wit someday."

Fiery, Lauren made a move to respond, but was swiftly cut off by Patricia.

"Shut up!" Patricia hissed, and Lauren narrowed her eyes at her.

"Patricia, there's nothing out here," she repeated.

"I swear, I heard something, and John said he heard it too!"

"No, really, she's right. Probably just a bird or something, but it spooked me a little," the other man spoke, wrapping his arms around himself. "We got any blankets, Pete? Or better, whisky?" He sent Pete a sly smile, extending a hand over the fire.

"No," Pete shook his head, "it's all-natural out here. We stay warm with the fire."

"What?" Lauren asked incredulously, turning to Pete. "No blankets? Are you mad?"

"Not at all, Lauren dear. You'll survive. I think."

"Pete! I swear, next time you ask for a favor, I'll make sure it's not 'a camping trip in the woods.' This isn't camping! This is-this is torture!"

"Well, I'm glad to know that you're enjoying yourself so much," Pete laughed, and Lauren gave him a raw, burning stare.

"Lauren! Pete! Stop the bickering and shut up!" Patricia's voice wavered, and Pete looked over to her.

"Patricia, calm down, will you?"

"No!" she shrieked.

"Guys! I heard it! Just-just stop talking!" John's eyes were bulging.

There was a brief moment of silence, in which the only sound was the rustle of trees. Then, after perhaps a minute, Pete began:

"Look, nothing. Patricia, it's fine, there's-"

Suddenly, Pete's voice was interrupted by the sound of sticks breaking, as if someone was walking towards them. Delicate, timed footsteps seemed to be making their way right behind Lauren, and she shivered.

"See?" Patricia whispered, hands shaking. "I told you!"

There was no response, but Pete carefully picked up the axe beside him and raised it over his head.

"Who's out there?" His voice quavered, axe trembling in his hands. "Just a bird, I hope?"

"No bird makes that sound," Lauren scoffed, "it's probably a deer. Just sit down, Pete. Patricia and John are crazy."

"We're not crazy!" They said in unison, but trailed off as the steps came nearer.

"Pete," Lauren warned, "put that axe down. What the hell are you doing?"

"Just makin' sure, Lauren."

"Oh, my god," her head bobbed, "you're all idiots."

Nothing seemed to transpire for a few minutes; Pete stood, axe held up high, while Patricia and John quaked in their seats, anxious. Then, in an instant, a bright flash of green light shot out from the forest, trees illuminated in a vibrant, electric ray of chartreuse. Pete dropped to the ground, limp, and his axe clattered over the log, into the fire.

"Holy… Pete! Pete, get up!" Lauren dove to his side, shaking him. Head spinning, she tried reaching for the axe, but her fingers singed easily in the fire. "I said, Pete, get up! If-if this is your idea of some-some funny little joke, I'm telling you, it's not funny!" Green light shot above her head, and she screamed. "Get up! Pete! Get up!" Lauren slapped Pete, to Patricia's horror, but was stopped when another tremendous blast of light knocked her over, violently banging her head on a log. Her eyes seemed to go blank, as if they were shrouded in fog.

"Oh, Lauren! Pete!" Patricia gasped, scrambling over the fire and towards them. "John, get-" But, before Patricia could call for him, she too was hit by the light, and this time, a proud, booming voice echoed around the forest.

"Avada Kedavra!" Someone shouted, sending more green light out, hitting the trees with a bullet-like force.

John, watching in terror as someone's boot slipped from the forest's cover, began running at an amazing speed, pelting through the thick undergrowth.

"Car, car, where's the car?"

His voice was just above a whisper, and he felt the light bouncing off the trees beside him. He looked around, frantically trying to find Pete's Ford. Pulse throbbing at an impossible speed, John made a turn, leaping over several fallen logs. Green light swelled around him, as if a great toad had swallowed him whole. The forest was teeming with snaky, whip-like vines, and John's hands extended themselves above him, balancing and swiping plants out of his way. In a terrifying moment, his foot caught on a tree root, and he was sent flying into the ground. Miraculously, a near-perfect beam of light missed its aim, and soared right above him. Shaken, but numb, John ignored the burning sensation creeping up his knee as he began running again, shoving and pushing through the growth. A dark-looking bird perched above him, sending out a loud, eerie call. He wasn't sure if this was a warning, or perhaps if the bird was a colleague with the green light, but he didn't have long to dwell on it when another ray came frighteningly close. The bird seemed to follow him, hopping from branch-to-branch, and John attempted to outrun it, diving over bushes. He came to a quick stop, unsure of where to go, but instantly saw a small sliver of moonlight to his left. He turned in that direction, hoping the madman behind him didn't see his change in course. Hitting vines and ferns out of the way, he could see the arch that Pete had cut, and the gravel road ahead. Green light came dangerously close to him, just whipping past his cheek, and John burst through the arch, screaming as he struggled with the lock on Pete's car.

"Locked? Locked?" He almost demanded the door to open, pulling the handle with tiring exertion.

Green light hit the side of the car, and John banged on the window, praying it would break.

"Stop," a voice commanded, and John continued to frantically break the window. "Please, please, please," he feverishly whispered, pounding with all his might. Looking down, he saw a rock, and, with great force, swung it towards the window, feeling relief as it shattered.

"Stop," someone said again, but John wriggled inside, hitting the gas pedal, but realizing he had no keys. "Keys, keys," he began searching, but looked upwards when a dark, cloaked figure stood at the window beside him.

"Stop."

A long, rugged stick rested carefully above John's nose, before a brilliant shower of light seemed to envelop him, turning the whole forest into a surreal shade of green.

A/N: Thanks for reading! This is just lead-up to a larger conflict; don't worry, the Hogwarts students will be in the next chapter. This is the first chapter to a much longer story, and the relationship between Draco and Harry is a very slow-burner. I'm going to be adding chapters as fast as possible (without compromising quality) so follow if you'd like to read more. Stick around if you want, and thanks again!

-Bee