Home Alone at Hogwarts

 This is a work of fanfiction. The world and characters are all owned by either JK Rowling or 20th Century Fox.
No money is being made from this story; it's purely for fun.

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    The evacuation was hurried, with professors and prefects raising their voices over the clamor.  Belongings were packed.  Schoolbooks were abandoned.  Owls were ushered into cages and hauled out the door.  Black robes fluttered everywhere.
    They left by any means available, as long as it was fast.  A blind eye was turned to more than one illegal enchantment; flying cars and motorcycles joined thestrals and hippogriffs.  Everyone fled.
    The last carriage disappeared moments before dark clouds swirled to life in the horizon.
    Hogwarts was echoingly quiet while the Death Eaters approached.  All except for the room where the transfer student had been sleeping.
    “Not again,” said Kevin McCallister, finding a window.
    He grabbed his wand.  At least he had a few minutes to get ready.

    When the doors to the entrance hall were flung open with a thunderous bang, it was the Dark Lord’s lieutenants who entered first.  A half dozen strutted in, with sneers on their faces and arrogance in every motion.  They swept up the grand staircase like they owned it.
    They didn’t hear the voice in the shadows.  Muffled by a simple charm, it whispered a word.
    The stairs became a ramp.
    Elegance turned into tumbling indignity while the Death Eaters landed hard on the slick marble, sliding into a pile of elbows and anger.
    They approached carefully the second time, on their guard and limping.  They took a different route — there was more than one Horcrux to collect, after all — but they didn’t know the secret passages, and they didn’t hear the footsteps.
    Bellatrix Lestrange was the first to enter the great hall.  Her feet were instantly swept out from under her, and she found herself suspended as if an invisible giant held her by the ankles.
    Her swearing was almost drowned out by Lucious Malfoy’s laughter, then his own irritation as he found himself suddenly, uncontrollably, dancing.
    Other Death Eaters hid their own amusement behind counterspells and revealing charms.  Peter Pettigrew was the first to spot the boy crouched behind a tapestry.
    “It’s just one person!” he shouted.  “Reducto!”
    Kevin raced down the passage while tapestries shredded and rocks crumbled behind him.  He didn’t slow as he came out the other side, taking a zig-zag path through the school with the invaders on his heels.
    He ran through a bathroom where a collection of bath bombs waited at the edge of a tub.  He paused to hook a string to the doorknob, then moved on.  When that door opened behind him, the bath bombs tumbled free — calling up a riot of colored steam, illusory images, and music with different beats.
    Waiting at the far side of the room, Kevin hefted another, this one from a certain joke shop in Diagon Alley.
    Before the Death Eaters could pick him out through the confusion, he threw it into the tub and ran.
    Colored water exploded upwards, drenching everyone and everything in the room.
    They were really angry after that one.
    Kevin ducked back the way he had come, hoping to lose his pursuers.  More voices echoed ahead.  He went over his options and spun on his heel, dashing out of sight moments before heavy feet prowled down the hallway.
    There weren’t as many suits of armor in this area as in some others, but they stepped smartly forward at his exclamation of “Piertotum Locomotor!”  They even listened when he suggested that they fight whoever was chasing him.
    Kevin paused to watch the hollow knights brandish swords and shields.  They made a respectable formation, lining up in perfect discipline.  Kevin wondered how far he could make the spell reach.  He was no star pupil, but maybe—
    His train of thought crashed when a very toothy human rounded the corner and proceeded to tear into the armor.  It wasn’t the full moon, but Fenrir Grayback was terrifying nonetheless.  Kevin ran.
    They were approaching from several directions now; Kevin heard raised voices and changed his plans again.  That room was too far away, but maybe this room…
    Someone shouted, and a petrification curse missed him by inches.  He leapt behind a door and slammed it shut.  Casting about for ideas, he saw opulent wall hangings, plush chairs, and tables piled high with schoolwork.
    The door shook.  He ran for the far side of the room, giving his wand a swish and flick as he did so.  “Wingardium leviosa!”  Papers flew upward.  In moments the room was filled with swirling clouds of parchment, a chaotic distraction for whoever was breaking the door down behind him.
    But not, it turned out, much use for the door that swung open in front of him.
    He tried to backpedal at the sight of pale skin, a hairless head, and evil eyes, but he was too slow.
    “Petrificus Totalus.”
    Kevin’s arms and legs snapped together, and he dropped like a felled tree.  His wand clattered to the floor next to him.  Only his eyes were free to move, granting him a view of the Dark Lord who approached, exuding malice and smugness.
    “Are you alone, child?  I’m sure I can find a use for you before you die.”
    One other thing Kevin could see, and the Dark Lord could not, was the chandelier over his head.  And the poltergeist waiting beside it.
    One more step forward into the room full of drifting paper, and the chandelier parted with a snap.  Voldemort looked up from his prey just in time to be crushed by glass, metal, and no small number of bricks.
    Peeves cackled with glee, looping about the room.
    Death Eaters cried out and shot curses at him.  The poltergeist only laughed, flinging papers into the air anew and knocking over several chairs before darting out the nearest door.  The Death Eaters charged after him, yelling for the others.
    Completely ignored, Kevin lay in the shelter of a fallen chair and a layer of papers.  A distant voice sounded like one of the paintings on the wall.  It talked about summoning back the wizards to destroy the Horcruxes before the Dark Lord’s followers could create a new body for him.  Peeves was still leading them on a merry chase — through one or two of Kevin’s other booby traps, if he was not mistaken.
    A distant sound of retching told him someone had stumbled into the Dungbomb drop.  Someone else activated the fireworks, mounted at head level.  The Exploding Whizz Poppers were easy to pick out, as were the Peace Disturbers.  And that first wizard was still throwing up.
    Kevin would have smiled if he could.  As it was, he listened to the undignified retreat and hoped that someone would arrive soon with a counterspell.  His nose was starting to itch.