Written for: QLFC, Round Three

Falmouth Falcons, Seeker

Mandatory: 90s Nostalgia! Home Alone

Word count (without AN): 1875

The Forgotten Adventure

"Hermione," Mrs. Granger called from the floor below, prompting the six-year-old to look up from her book. "The sitter is here. Come down and meet her."

Not feeling super willing, but also not wanting to upset her mother, Hermione set Nancy Drew on her bedside table and padded down the stairs, playing with a strand of her wild hair. As she entered the front room of her house, she caught sight of a teenager who had blonde hair pulled up into a slick ponytail.

"Hermione, this is Jenna," Mrs. Granger said as she lovingly ran her fingers through Hermione's hair before picking up her purse. "You're going to have lots of fun together. I'll see you in the morning, my love."

With that, Mrs. Granger walked out of the door and into the car that Mr. Granger had just started in the driveway, leaving Hermione alone with the babysitter.

"I brought Chopin," the sitter said in a sing-songy voice, holding out a couple of CDs to Hermione as if they were a prize. Her voice was fairly nasally, and she was trying too hard to seem likeable, but she seemed decent enough.

Hermione heaved a sigh and turned around. "The CD player is in the living room. Do you mind if I read?" the young girl asked, both polite and bossy all at once. Jenna quickly fell into step behind Hermione.

"Would you like me to read to you?" Jenna asked quickly, obviously excited at the prospect.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm perfectly capable of reading by myself," she replied, being sure to use as big of words as she could. It would make her seem more intelligent, thus proving her point that she could read on her own.

"Oh." Jenna seemed saddened, but quickly smiled again when Hermione directed her to the CD player. "Can you at least bring your book down here so we can listen to music together while you read?"

Hermione nodded in agreement before running up the stairs, her little bare feet slapping down on the wood with each step. Within moments, she was beside Jenna again, cradling the book in her arms.

"Isn't Nancy Drew a bit scary for a little girl like you?"

Hermione glared at Jenna before plopping down on the couch and opening her book, choosing not to answer that ignorant question. How dare she insinuate that Hermione wasn't brave enough to read something. Hermione was practically seething!

However, as soon as she began reading the words on the page, Hermione forgot all about her anger, becoming as engrossed in the book as a six-year-old could.

Maybe a little too engrossed.

And maybe Jenna had been right.

After about thirty minutes of reading, Hermione had her knees pulled up to her chest. Her eyes were wide. She was even shivering slightly, and the book was only getting more suspenseful.

CRASH

Hermione screamed and threw her book as something shattered in the front room, effectively waking up Jenna, who had drifted off into a half-doze, put to sleep by the still house and the relaxing Chopin.

"What is it? What is it?" Jenna cried, jumping off the couch and looking around wildly for the trouble. Hermione remained on the couch, her hands covering her head.

"T-The front r-room," Hermione stumbled, looking up at Jenna with obvious fear in her eyes. "Something b-broke."

The babysitter frowned and began creeping towards the front room, picking up the nearest item to use as a weapon. Luckily enough, she had grabbed one of Mr. Granger's golf clubs, and it would work perfectly in a pinch.

"Wait right here," Jenna said in an important tone, giving Hermione the type of look a superhero would give someone before they saved them. Hermione wasn't going to argue. Sure, she may have been a brave girl, but she was still six. She wrapped her arms tight around her legs, anxiously waiting to hear a struggle between Jenna and an attacker.

But the sound of a struggle never came.

"It's your mother's vase," Jenna called from the other room. "It must have fallen over, I guess."

Frowning, and moving as carefully as she could, Hermione peeled herself off of the couch and tiptoed to the front room.

Dramatically, as the shards of Mrs. Granger's favorite vase came into view, the CD player turned off, leaving the house in eerie silence.

So the vase had just fallen off? Hermione surveyed the room, frowning, her tiny fingers moving up to play with the end of one of her curls. It didn't seem right to Hermione, especially when she realized that the little table the vase used to sit on was along the far wall of the room; it was over three meters away.

Then something else caught her eye.

"Jenna!" Hermione cried, looking past the babysitter and extending a shaking finger. She was pointing at one of her mother's peacoats. She was pointing at it because it was floating a little off the ground, slowly spinning in circles. Hermione's eyes widened in horror as the coat began to float over to the two girls, moving agonizingly slow.

"MUM!" Hermione shouted, clearly traumatized. The window beside her shattered, and she and Jenna would have been sliced to ribbons by the glass if the floating peacoat hadn't sped up, opened, and shielded the girls.

Its act of kindness did nothing to quell the fear that either of the girls felt. Hermione bolted up the stairs, desperate to escape the whole situation, and Jenna followed close behind. Neither of them stopped running until they had made it to Hermione's room.

Jenna slammed the door closed and put her weight against it, and Hermione collapsed to her knees in the middle of the floor. Both girls were gasping for breath; both girls were terrified. Neither knew what had just happened.

"That was weird," Jenna said as she caught her breath, sliding down the door until she was seated on the ground, her back against the wood, golf club still in her hand.

"Weird isn't a big enough word," Hermione replied, looking at Jenna carefully. The babysitter just gave up with a shrug before putting her head in her hands.

The house was silent, apart from the heavy breathing from the two girls, for a moment. But then, outside there was a large CRACK, followed by the sound of footsteps. The footsteps were moving closer to the house, getting louder with each footfall. Hermione and Jenna exchanged a weary glance.

"That's not my parents," Hermione whispered, knowing that if it were her parents, she would've heard their car pull up into the driveway. Jenna simply nodded in understanding, her eyes wide.

When there was the distinct crunch of glass, the girls knew that whoever was outside had just come inside.

Curiosity struck Hermione and she shooed Jenna to the side and opened the door a crack, wanting to catch a glimpse of the intruders, but her vision was blocked by her mother's peacoat.

"Let me see," she hissed to the piece of clothing and, miraculously, it obeyed. Hermione was now able to see the two men that were examining the front room. Both were wearing snug fitting black robes and were holding a stick in one of their hands.

"Underaged magic in front of a Muggle?" the shorter of the two questioned.

"Accidental, I'm assuming. This is a Muggle household and the child in this picture can't be older than six or seven," the taller man replied. Hermione could see that he was pointing to the picture her family just had framed a few days ago.

"Let's get this over with, Shacklebolt," the shorter man said in a tired voice. "We'll have to fill out a lot of paperwork for this incident as well as clean up this mess."

"Just focus on finding the girl and the Muggle who was with her," the second man, Shacklebolt, replied, seeming equally as tired.

Hermione's eyes widened, and she quickly closed the door, cutting off the conversation between the two men.

"I think they are looking for us," Hermione said in a slightly trembly voice. Jenna's eyes were still wide, and she seemed to be petrified. "We need an escape plan."

Jenna barely had time to give Hermione a tiny nod before the six-year-old opened her mouth to explain her plan.

Less than five minutes later there was the sound of the two men walking up the stairs. Jenna and Hermione knew it was now or never. Armed with makeshift bombs, which were just socks filled with glitter, a lid to a large bin and a golf club, the two girls pressed themselves against the wall of Hermione's bedroom, waiting for the two men to come in.

Within seconds, the brass handle turned and the door opened. Before the men were even able to see the two girls, Jenna used the golf club to trip the first man that came in, and Hermione threw a glitter bomb at the second, subduing both of the attackers.

Then they ran. They ran for their lives, hopping over the one fallen man, who Hermione identified as Shacklebolt, and pushing the now blinded shorter man to the side.

Hermione heard the men struggling and clomping around, but she didn't dare turn to look. She was too focused on setting the bin lid at the top of the stairs and carefully running down the steps into Jenna's outstretched hands. They had made it pretty far, but they weren't in the clear yet.

As Jenna carried Hermione over the broken glass, because the sitter had shoes and the six-year-old was barefoot, Hermione saw the men making their way to the staircase rather hurriedly. A grin slipped onto her lips as Shacklebolt stepped onto the bin lid, sending him into a painful slide down the steps. The shorter man stopped at the top of the staircase, but Mrs. Granger's peacoat pushed him from behind. He tumbled after Shacklebolt, buying Jenna and Hermione enough time to run out of the house, across the front lawn, and onto the street.

They ran for a little while, Jenna breathing hard and Hermione holding on to her like her life depended on it. Just as it seemed like they were in the clear, a loud CRACK sounded, and the two men appeared directly in front of the two girls, forcing them to stop.

Jenna and Hermione screamed simultaneously, but Shacklebolt waved his stick and the sound ceased. He was looking at them apologetically but pointed his stick at the girls once more.

"Sorry ladies," he said, and he actually sounded sorry. "I promise. Neither of you will remember any of this."

Then Hermione's vision went black.

"Hermione," Mrs. Granger said happily when the six-year-old walked into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Did you have fun with Jenna?"

Hermione nodded and sat down at the breakfast table where there was a yummy meal waiting for her.

"What did you guys do?" Mr. Granger asked, looking over his morning paper, smiling kindly.

"We read and listened to Chopin," Hermione replied, honestly believing that she was telling the truth. After giving her father a smile, she dug in to her breakfast like any normal six-year-old would.