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

Hogwarts Express, 2011

The contraband seemed to be burning against my side as my bookbag jostled with every step I took, following an irate Gran back upstream through the crowds of muggles in costumes, I realized. Costumes that made them look like Hogwarts students.

"This is why I hate coming to muggle London," Gran sighed. She was nervous, I saw the signs now, her palms were clammy as she clutched my hand, keeping me close. "And you - off running after tourists, getting lost... Do you know what would happen if you broke the statute around them? Even accidentally? The chaos that would break out? They'd never leave you be! You'd never have a normal life again..."

"I didn't know, Gran, I'm sorry," I said. "If you'd told me about - about all this, I wouldn't have made the mistake."

"I shouldn't have to tell you more than to stay with me, you're thirteen, you should be able to listen to what you're told," she replied.

"But I thought I was helping find the right way," I argued.

Gran paused walking and looked at me, her face a frown.

I'd not realized until that moment how much taller I'd become over the Summer. Gran wasn't much taller than I was anymore.

She turned away with a frustrated huff. "You have to listen," she persisted. She'd regained sight of the trolly she'd left with the platform security guard, and thanked him for watching over our luggage while she'd hunted me down.

"Stick with your Grandmother, kid, it's a crazy world out here," the guard directed me as he pointed us toward a turnstile with a short line.

We hurried, now truly running late, and Gran motioned for me to hold onto one side of the trolley while she held the other and we ran through the wall between platforms 9 and 10, emerging onto Platform 9 3/4.

It was a bustle, but no where near as much as the rest of the Station had been. Owls were fluttering overhead here, and toads ribbited from their tanks, balanced on top of piled-up trunks. A wizard was levitating the luggage into the storage compartment and there were loads of Hogwarts students - real ones - clustered around the train as it sighed and steamed on the rails.

Gran handed off the trolley to the man packing the trunks, then steered me to one side, by a pillar with wizarding advertisments posted up. She dusted off my shirt, clucking her tongue, a nervous expression on her face as she looked me over. I clutched my bag's shoulder strap, afraid she would somehow sense the presence or the stolen book.

"Are you alright?" she asked finally, "The muggle world... can be very overwhelming."

"I'm alright."

"Your godfather is very famous, even among muggles," she said.

I nodded, "I know. He told me about the books."

"He did?"

"At Christmas, when Uncle Dudley was 'round," I nodded. I didn't mention that Harry hadn't told me to the extent that I'd ever dreamed of something like that shop might exist, but Gran didn't need to know just how shook that shop had made me feel. My fingers tightened around the strap all the more.

"If the muggles found out the wizarding world was actually real, they'd never leave Harry - or any of the rest of us - alone," Gran said.

"Why didn't you tell me about it?" I asked.

Gran looked pained, "I didn't want you to be anxious."

I hung my head.

"That's why I didn't want you to be looking like Harry today," she explained gently, "The muggles might have thought you were one of them if they recognized you."