This is written for the QLFC. [Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition!]

I'm the Seeker for the Kenmare Kestrels! [Season six, Round 3!]

Prompt:SEEKER: Home Alone [Inspired by]

This is AU for the fact that Harry is lost through the floo at Malfoy Manor, instead of Knockturn Alley.

This is beta-ed by: Kyrie! [Thank you so much for beta-ing for me again!]

[WC: 1159]

~oOoOoOo~

Harry Potter was standing in the living area of the Burrow - the home of the Weasley's, but most importantly, his best friend Ron. They were preparing to head to Diagon Alley to purchase their school supplies for their second year back at Hogwarts. However, they were going to Floo, and Harry had never travelled this way before.

One by one, he watched as Mr Weasley, then Percy, followed by the twins, each stepped into the fire grate and vanished in a swirl of green flames. Next was Ron's turn, and Harry's nerves were catching up to him. He honestly didn't want to step into fire. Logically, he knew that it didn't burn - or else Mrs and Mr Weasley wouldn't have sent their kids off through it.

But, growing up in the Muggle world, he couldn't fathom how it worked…

Ron vanished in the flames with a shout of 'Diagon Alley.'

Harry nervously stepped into the fireplace, and scooped up a handful of the offered powder. He tentatively dropped the dust and muttered 'Dragon Valley,' forgetting the instruction to speak loud and clear.

Instantly, he was swept up into what felt like a tube and he couldn't breathe. The scent of soot invaded his nose, and he struggled to cough what he could out. After what felt like hours, when in reality it was only minutes, he was spat out onto a cold, marble floor.

Harry slowly stood and dusted grime off of his clothes - a pair of muggle jeans and a baggy tee shirt - and started poking around. He knew that he wasn't in Diagon Alley, for the simple fact there were no red-headed Weasley's around, and there wasn't any familiar shops either. Hoping he ended somewhere that an adult could help him, Harry left the room.

Immediately, he was met with a scene of opulence, and realized that the house occupants were rich. The ceilings were high and vaulted, with engraved walls and more marble flooring. The colouring was pleasing, with it being gold on white, with a splash of black on the floors. A single black rug ran the length of the hall, and periodically there were pedestals, with vases and plants placed atop.

Harry walked slowly, as he wondered where the owners were. He didn't want to call out, however, just in case.

Faintly, he heard a clicking on the ground, and instantly, he ducked into a small door that he didn't see previously. Leaving it open a crack, he fell into the darkness and waited for whoever was coming to pass. He heard mutterings from a young boy, he guessed, and peered out.

Coming down the hall was Draco Malfoy, and who he presumed was his father. Glad that he hid, Harry waited until they turned into the room he flooed in from, before ducking out of his hiding space. Running quietly, he headed as far as he could before he found another empty room. This time however, he shut and locked the door before leaning against the wall.

Harry knew that he wouldn't be able to walk up and ask them for help, especially since he knew they worked for Voldemort. However, he doubted he would be able to sneak his way back to the room without being caught either.

Since he was only twelve, the only logical solution for him was to somehow trap Mr Malfoy, and escape after. Instantly, he thought of a movie that he saw his cousin Dudley watch a few weeks ago that involved a boy his age being left in his house over Christmas, who had to rig traps to keep a pair of burglars out.

Smiling gleefully, Harry got to work on a plan as he took stock of the items in the room he was inhabiting. Realizing that he had had a stroke of luck, he looked over the various home improvement objects laying about. There was a few buckets of paint, some spindles of rope, various poles and wires, a few ladders, some netting and what looked to be large, thin blankets.

Hoping he had enough time before the Malfoys headed his way after realizing someone was loose in their house, Harry gathered a bucket of paint, a long piece of rope, and a pole.

Quietly, he headed into the hall and looked around at the ceilings. Going across the area between the walls were thick pieces of wood that would be perfect to set the paint on. Heading back, he pulled a ladder out that would let him reach the right height and lugged the rope and paint - which he saw was purple - up. Finally, he reached the top and started tying the rope around the paint handle. He also made sure to wrap the rope around the wood beam and settled the bucket of paint parallel to it.

He figured that he would be able to pull the rope and tilt the bucket to spill on whoever walked under when he pulled. Finishing that task, Harry also ran back and grabbed some netting and set it up to fall when a tripwire was hit.

Smiling, Harry tied the loose end of rope around a doorknob and dragged the ladder back to the room. He realized that he would need to alert the Malfoys that he was this way, so instead of gently setting the ladder down, Harry let it bang to the ground. The aluminum crashed loudly against the marble flooring, and the metal clanged loudly. Harry instantly rushed and grabbed the end of the rope before hesettled himself inside of the other room to wait.

After a few moments, Malfoy's father walked briskly into Harry's sight. Too soon, he triggered the tripwire and the netting engulfed Mr Malfoy's tall, wiry frame and left him unable to reach his wand. He fell forward, and his head was in the perfect vicinity to tilt the bucket of paint on top of his head, covering his long blond hair in a vibrant purple hue.

Harry giggled at the sight of a sputtering adult Malfoy and before he could catch a look at Harry, he ran. He knew that Draco wouldn't be able to bother him - even if he did catch him - and finally reached the fireplace where he arrived.

However, stepping out of the grate was Mr Weasley, and he looked weary and worn. Harry blushed without realizing, and instantly apologized for getting lost here of all places.

"Ah, no worries. One of us should 'ave gone with ya'," replied the Weasley patriarch. "You could have ended up in worse places; imagine landing in Knockturn Alley, yeah?"

"Erm, yeah…" answered Harry.

Mr Weasley led Harry into the floo and gripped his hand, before throwing down some more floo powder as he rand loud and clear: "Diagon Alley."

Right before they swirled off, Harry saw a purple haired Mr Malfoy come barreling into the room they were now vacating with a feral look on his face.