Two: Hermione
The brown-haired little girl with overly large front teeth let out a tiny giggle and put her head back on the pillow. She buckled herself down as though trying to be very still, biting her lip, her cheeks reddening at the effort of keeping quiet. However, she couldn't stay still for long.
She raised her head up and stared at her covers. 'Move, move, move,' she thought excitedly, and again, the comforter did just that—it raised up maybe five inches and pulled itself forward, as though it was levitating! She giggled again and grabbed at the blanket in mid-air, pulling it back down. 'It's listening!' she thought with a grin. 'It's listening to me!' She thought this was an extremely silly thing for a blanket to do, and she burst into giggles again.
The hallway light clicked on and she heard padding footsteps in the hallway. She'd been heard. She stayed still, only her blinking eyes showing signs of movement.
"Hermione?"
She stayed quiet.
The door creaked open, and in walked Dad, equally-brown haired with a strong chin and a nervous look always on his kind face. "Hermione, we can hear you, no need to feign sleep, love," he said with a nice smile, sitting down on the end of her bed. "What's so amusing, anyhow? I could use a laugh or two."
"Dad, I make blankets move," she said firmly, sitting up in bed.
Mr. Granger looked taken aback, as though this was not the answer he'd expected. "Ah," he said. "In your dream, then?"
"No, Dad!" Hermione said impatiently. "I tell them to move and they do."
"Ah," said Mr. Granger again. He nodded and swallowed. "Where do they ah—go?"
Hermione was confused and a little angry. Even at seven years of age, she was hardly imaginative and neither was Dad! Dad, Mum and Hermione were completely straight forward and honest with each other. Mum and Dad didn't humour her, and they didn't use little words because she was young—they used large words so she'd learn. So for Dad to ask where the blankets went to… well, that was just plain stupid. Did he honestly think she was lying, like this was a childish trick? If she'd made the blankets raise off of her, then plenty of other people probably could, too.
"Watch," she said, and stared at the covers. 'Move, move, please move!' she instructed again, and sure enough, the blanket folded itself back a bit and slowly floated up above Hermione's waist. She looked back at Dad, the blankets immediately dropping. "See? I make blankets move!" she smiled.
Mr. Granger's mouth was slack-jawed. "Let's get you a glass of water," he finally said. He really was beginning to think he wasn't cut out to be a parent—after all, this was not in the books.