It's Christmas Time Again: A Time-Traveling TMS Holiday Extravaganza

1 September, 2011

Gran was holding onto my backpack as we walked through the square between Euston Road and the entrance to King's Cross Station. "Stick close to me, this isn't the sort of place you want to be getting lost in," she instructed as she steered me through the crowd. "There are a great deal of muggles around," she added in a whisper, "And they'd love nothing more than to snatch you up in this day and age, and a right spectacle they'd make of you if they did."

I looked around. There were loads and loads of people in Hogwarts uniforms, I didn't know what she was talking about. There seemed to be more witches and wizards in King's Cross than anywhere I'd ever been before - and certainly no one was hiding what they were at all.

I wondered why Gran hadn't let me wear my robes.

Instead, she'd put me in the black trousers and plain white oxford shirt. I wore a pair of sensible loafers and my hair was combed. She'd insisted, too, that I stay myself - no Potter features today, absolutely not. Not to be going to the station with.

"They need to hurry up with the relocation for the Express," she muttered, shaking her head as two boys with magic wands in their fists ran by. "Every year it gets less and less safe to bring our children through this mess..."

She kept a hand on my backpack until we were well inside the station and we had stopped at the back of a long queue behind people carrying cups of blue cups of coffee and sighing, looking at their watches and jostling impatiently. I could hear trains puffing on the other side of a large brick wall. All the Hogwarts students were going past the queue and on into the station lobby, though, not even pausing for the line. Gran was making frustrated noises and shuffling to look over the shoulders of the people ahead of us.

"Gran, I think we're waiting at the wrong queue," I said, pointing past the restaurants and cafes, at the far end of the station.

"This is the one, Theodore," she said firmly, then, "Goodness at this rate we'll miss the train."

"Won't we all, lady?" grumbled the man ahead of her. "Every damned year... I should've bloody gone to Euston," he swore.

"Gran, really, look -" I said.

But she'd just spotted a man in a uniform - a station worker, it seemed, and she called, "Excuse me! Excuse me. Our train leaves at eleven --" and she was stepping out of line to go and talk to the man.

I turned, then, and tapped a boy walking past wearing red Gryffindor robes. "Hey which way to Platform 9 3/4s?" I asked.

"My dad says it's just up here!" he said, pointing excitedly, and he ran off.

"Gran!" I called, "It's just up here!" But she didn't hear me. "Gran!" I heard a loud train whistle, and I took a few interested steps, thinking I might be able to glimpse the train. There was a rush of people then, and I was caught up in the crowd, stumbling with them, getting pulled away from the queue we'd been in. I suddenly realized I couldn't see Gran at all, and I got very nervous. "Excuse me, watch out, I gotta get back to - excuse me! Please! Watch out!"

I don't know how it happened, you've been lost before I'm sure, I somehow had been turned about and I'd pressed the wrong way and instead of getting back to Gran I'd ended up further away. When I realized it, I turned to push back to her but stopped suddenly.

I stared at a sign, hanging on the wall over a crowded shop entrance.

The Harry Potter Shop at Platform 9 3/4.

I could hardly breathe. What - what was this?

Streams of people in Hogwarts robes pushed 'round me, shrieking with excitement and chattering. They were taking photos with muggle cell phones and carrying wands and bags and toy owls and wearing house colors and -- I felt dizzy looking at all the details, catching snatches of conversations --

"Mummy will they have Hermione's wand?"

"Look at the giant chocolate frog!"

"Wow they have real butterbeers!"

"I want to have my photo made by the trolley!"

"LOOK ITS HEDWIG!"

"I took the Pottermore test and they said I was a Hufflepuff! I am not a Puff. I am a Slytherin!"

"Please, you're such a Puff."

I looked back the way I'd last seen Gran - then glanced at the clock on the wall. We had a few minutes to spare - surely a couple minutes... just to - to see what this place was...

I followed the flow of people into the shop.

I have never felt more disoriented in all my life before or since. This coming from ✨me✨ who has been in and out of five decades within a single twenty minute Time Turning session. Me, who has been seventeen and thirty in the same day. Me, who has met myself. Literally fucking met myself.

But staring into the eyes of a plastic doll meant to look like a young version of my godfather had my heart pounding so hard it's a wonder I didn't drop dead in the middle of King's Cross.

Scarlet train engine toys, stuffed owls and house elves and nifflers... pairs of spectraspecs and striped Hogwarts scarves... jumpers and trunks and toy wands... resin models of the castle and blue Ford Anglias... I wandered, shaking, confused, people jostling around me and laughing, shouting, showing one another things...

I found myself in an alcove that looked like Ollivander's shop with wand boxes stacked to the ceiling, but hanging on the shelves were models, little plastic cards with names on them...

Hermione Granger's wand. Deluxe real wood edition. £64

Harry Potter's wand. Illuminating wand. £75

Remus Lupin's wand. £39

I stared at the wand hanging on little brass clips and my fingers ran along the shape of the handle.

"They say it had a moonstone in it," said a girl behind the counter.

"A moonstone?" I asked.

"Because Lupin's power came from the moon," she explained, "I love his and Tonk's wands."

"Tonks?"

She held up a redwood wand with detailed feathering and an intricately carved handle. "The detail's incredible." She held it out to me and I picked it up, holding it in my hands. It was heavier than a real wand, and felt more breakable somehow. There was no magic in it.

I looked up at her, "Is it broken?" I held it out.

"Broken?" she asked, confused, as she took it back.

Before I could explain, I was jostled aside by a more aggressive shopper.

It was too surreal.

Muggles everywhere.

Harry Potter everywhere.

I stumbled on.

And then I saw them.

Stacks of books. Paperback and hard bound, in box sets and loose.

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, one said. Another, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix... the Half-Blood Prince. The Chamber of Secrets. The Prisoner of Azkaban. The Goblet of Fire.

I picked that one up. I remembered Harry telling me stories about the Goblet of Fire, about the Triwizard Tournament...

"Theodore!"

Gran was suddenly pushing her way through the crowded shop. "Good heavens what are you doing? Put that rubbish down!" She pulled the book from my grasp. "We're going to be late for the train."

"What is this place?" I asked.

"Dangerous," she snapped, and she grabbed my wrist, "Come on."

She turned to pull me away - but before she could, I grabbed the copy of the book back up and as she tugged me out of the shop, I hurriedly shoved it into my book bag, stealing it.