Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of J.K. Rowling's work or the Silent Hill universe.

Chapter One The Road to Nowhere

Draco Malfoy cursed when he heard the sirens and saw the red and blue lights flash in his rear-view mirror. With the rain pattering like a dozen demons on his windshield, he flicked on his wipers and pulled over onto the shoulder. The unforgiving rigidness of the driver's seat dug into his aching shoulder blades. The damp air made his fingertips ache and his palms slipped forward on the wheel. He tilted his head to the side and cracked his neck.

The Muggle law officer inched the squad car right behind Draco's and threw open the door with an arrogant thrust.

Draco eyed the suspiciously heavy belt strapped to the officer's waist, his gaze coming to rest on the black butt of the gun.

He still wasn't quite accustomed to the plebian ways of Muggles, especially their rather slapdash method of keeping order. Hit Wizards had always seemed more effective to him. They usually apparated on scene, cast a body-binding curse on the suspect and sent the unfortunate soul back to the Ministry for processing by way of a Portkey.

It was quick, efficient and merciless.

These clumsy Muggle "police" could learn a thing or two from their betters.

Nevertheless, Draco rolled down his window, hoping that he hadn't inadvertently broken some asinine law. After all, he still wasn't too confident about this driving business.

The officer slapped a gloved hand on the roof of the car.

"License and registration."

For a moment, Draco froze. License? He then remembered the plastic card the representative at the Department for Magical Law Enforcement had provided him with. It was in his stiff, new wallet, nestled next to his passport and visa.

"Here."

The officer took the card and examined it, eyes hidden behind wide sunglasses.

It took Draco a minute to realize the cop was a woman. He could just glimpse the feminine features beneath her blue hat and glasses.

"Mr. Malfoy?" she grunted.

"Yes." Draco squirmed in his seat, the belt cutting into his neck. The Ministry hadn't allowed him to take a pseudonym. Acting Minister Shacklebolt insisted that he stick to his identity in the States, for his explicit safety, of course. But Draco knew it was just their way of keeping tabs on him. If he had avoided going to Azkaban, then exile in America would have to do.

The cop returned his license. "Where are you headed tonight, Mr. Malfoy?" She put both hands on his open window, leaving ugly prints on the glass.

"Home," he said hopelessly. "I'm renting a house in Brahms County for the year."

The words were unpleasant against his refined pallet. Home. No, home was in England. Home was Malfoy Manor, confiscated by the Ministry and gutted in their search for the Dark Lord's secrets.

His mother and father had gone to France. But the Ministry saw fit to separate them and Draco went to Brahms County, West Virginia instead.

"You're a bit lost then," the cop replied. "This road doesn't run through Brahms. In fact, it doesn't run through anywhere." She ducked her head just inside the window. "But you wouldn't know that, would you, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco could feel the weight of his wand burning through his jeans' pocket. Oh, it would take one hex, just one hex to send the cop flying across the highway and down the muddy embankment on the other side. But then he remembered the charm the Aurors had put on his wand. If he cast an unfriendly spell, they would know.

"I'm new in town," he said simply.

"I can see that. Step out of the car."

What now? The entire procedure was foreign to Draco, a pantomime's play meant to degrade and drown him in his disillusionment.

He climbed out of the car, humiliation bowing his head and shoulders until he felt as tall as a house elf.

"Face the car, hands on the hood, legs apart."

Draco complied, still mystified. And he nearly jumped out of his skin when the cop began to pat him down.

"What are you doing?" He couldn't keep the derision from his voice.

"Do you have any weapons on you?"

"What…no, no. Can you tell me what's going on?"

The cop sighed, her hands skimming his torso. "This road we're on isn't much used anymore. It runs through a town called Silent Hill. I'm sure you've heard of it."

"No." Draco replied flatly.

"It's abandoned, has been for the past thirty years since a fire started in the coal mines below. The only people that go up there nowadays are looking for trouble."

Her hand neared his pant's pocket and before Draco could stop her, she had extracted his wand.

"Interesting," she muttered, placing it on the roof of the car.

It twitched feebly.

Draco hung his head in disgust.

He bet Potter and his friends were having a grand laugh now, back in Britain what with their Orders of Merlin First Class and laurels and worshipful throngs of Mudbloods and traitors.

The egregious insult might have been easier to swallow if Draco didn't have the memory of his trial to haunt him. Potter had spoken on his behalf. Had stood up in front of the Wizengamot and a score of Daily Prophet reporters and defended him.

And Draco knew then that he would always be indebted to his rival and that thought alone was enough to drive him mad.

"Alright, Mr. Malfoy. Have a seat right here." The cop indicated his front bumper.

Draco folded his arms tightly across his jumper and leaned against the hood. Rain flattened his already sweaty hair.

"Since I didn't find any narcotics on you, I'm letting you off with a warning this time." She hooked her thumbs in her belt, tilting her head forward just enough so she could see over her glasses.

Draco didn't care for the look in her eyes. Stern, he thought, somewhat like old McGonagall when she was giving out detentions.

"Narcotics?" he asked, his voice hollow.

"Drugs," the cop said, "there's heavy trafficking in this area. Now I'm thinking it's best you get back in your car and turn right around. I don't know how things are done in England, but here in Brahms, we're tough on illegal substances."

Draco honestly had no idea what she meant. He vaguely remembered Snape giving a lecture on unstable potions that were illegal in Great Britain, but he doubted the stupid cop would know anything about that.

Perhaps she was talking about hallucinogenics. He had heard that Muggles, desperate to escape their dreary existence, would ingest powders or plants to induce a delirious state. Though why anyone would waste time on delusions, he couldn't say.

But obviously, this cop meant business. Draco's wounded pride begged him to set her straight. Reason, however, told him to comply.

"Okay," he mumbled. "I understand."

She seemed satisfied, half-turning and looking back at her squad car. But then she lifted a long arm and snatched up his wand.

Reflex tightened Draco's muscles. He was ready lunge, to knock it out of her hands. But then she'd get suspicious and then he'd be stuck here on the muddy road even longer.

A gust of wind rippled the fir trees. Draco smelled pine needles and he was reminded of the great garden bordering Malfoy Manor. It had always been a place of comfort, of security…until the Dark Lord and his minions moved in and turned his home into a mockery.

Draco closed his eyes and inhaled. He tried to forget that he was standing there, that some brainless Muggle was fingering his wand with her greasy gloves. And slowly, steadily, his fury dripped away.

"What is this?" the cop grunted. "Yew?"

"Hawthorn," Draco said quickly.

The officer's eyebrows jumped closer to her hairline.

"I'm an artist." He made a carving motion with his hands. "You know, a sculptor. My medium is wood."

"Whatever." She handed his wand back. "Drive safely and stay off this road."

And then it was over.

Draco jumped back into the driver's seat and waited until the squad car had disappeared over the brow of a low hill. Then he laid his head against the steering wheel, cursing Potter, the Ministry and every single Muggle and Mudblood.

But the trees about him whispered and he could only think of home and how precious it truly was.

And now, yes now, he was alone.

After a solid ten minutes, he put the car in drive and rumbled over the hill. Around the bend, he saw the squad car nestled between the firs, waiting for another speeder or otherwise unlucky motorist.

Draco slowed down ever so slightly, his right hand leaving the wheel and gripping his wand. At once he felt the magic rush to his fingertips and drunk with impulsion, he raised it to shoulder height.

The squad car's back tire went flat.

Draco quickly stuffed his wand back into his jeans, knowing that even now, the Ministry had detected his hex and an owl had been dispatched to his rented house.

"Fuck it," he growled, flooring the gas pedal and speeding off into the grey twilight.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for taking the time to read the first chapter of "Trial by Fire". As some of you might have already noticed, this story is a Silent Hill/HP crossover, though you needn't have any knowledge of the former to understand the plot.

Any and all feedback will be cherished. Have a great week!