(This is one of those stories that seems to drive itself. But, let me just say, this would probably be so much better if it were written by Neil Gaiman. )
Clap your hands if you believe in fairies.
“Here goes nothing.”
Harry did not know what led him to do it. It could have been the champagne he bought himself for his 23rd birthday, or maybe the heart broken in his chest, but as he heard the sound of his clapping echo through the dark woods, it made all the sense in the world.
Then, a voice.
“So, you believe, huh?”
“Um, I guess.” Harry had never been this frightened before.
“Now, we can’t have that.”
If a body falls in the woods, would it make a sound?