Finished A Great Start to the Holidays Solo

Date: 2 April 2023
Time: 5.15pm

Beatrice stood expectantly on the platform, her luggage sitting snuggly on a gleaming silver trolley by her side, Eos, Bea’s golden rabbit, sitting on the top trunk. The Hogwarts train had arrived and deposited the children back in London for the Easter Break. It was going to be a glorious two weeks for Bea back on the family farm. Except, she was waiting.

This in itself was quite unusual. Usually, Beatrice didn’t have to wait long for her mother to pick her up. Usually, the sturdy little witch would meet Beatrice on the wizarding side of the platform, gathering her red-haired daughter and matching rabbit, plus the calamity that was her daughter's belongings before passing through to the muggle side of the Platform to meet her husband. If he had come, they’d all make their way to another platform before departing for home, the lovely riverside town of Ellon Scotland. If her husband hadn’t come, too busy with farm work, Beatrice’s mother would whisk them away to a floo point before going home. Bea always wrinkled her nose at floo. The train was much more preferable, with its comfy seats and rolling green fields. Floo just covered you in powder and made you slightly motion-sick.

Sighing impatiently, Bea checked her wrist watch again for the third time. 5.15pm Her mother was never this late. She was usually standing on the magical side of the platform well before the train rolled into the station. Maybe Da was the only one picking her up today? He wouldn’t have been able to cross the boundary. Making sure Eos was settled on the trolley, Bea grabbed the handle with both hands, pushing her way quickly through the still slightly crowded platform to the muggle and wizarding boundary point. Closing her eyes, she pushed through, feeling a miniscule tingle run through her. It always happened whenever she moved through the barrier and Bea loved it. The feeling that magic was real and at that moment whizzing through her veins.

Once on the other side, Bea couldn’t spot her father either. Muggles moved to and fro, trying frantically to get to their train on time. Was Nan coming? Surely her Nan, a pureblood witch, would have waited on the other side? Maybe Beatrice had missed her when she came through the barrier? This thought was dismissed quickly though. Nan was loud enough that Bea would have heard her make her presence known. The whole platform would have.

Bea smiled affectionately and rolled her eyes. She couldn’t wait to get back home. She hadn’t been back home since early Summer before Camp in August. Christmas had come and gone, its wintry chill leaving Bea sullen and slightly depressed. How she missed home. Her parents had been too busy during Christmas, visiting Bea’s muggle grandmother, who was quite sick. Beatrice’s parents hadn’t wanted either of their children to see Granny in her condition. Which by Nan’s letters throughout the term, told that the muggle doctors couldn’t do much. Cancer, they said. Radiation and chemo. Although there wasn’t much hope at the stage Granny was at. Whatever that was. Why couldn’t Ma just use magic to save her? Like she did whenever Bea or Ella got sick. Nan had also been too busy during Christmas. She’d been on the farm, tending to a sick Ella, who had contracted some unknown flu. Nan had recommended staying at Hogwarts for the Winter Break just to be safe. So that's what Bea had done. Stayed at Hogwarts, with no friends except for Eos as company. To say it had been a long couple of weeks was an understatement.

Moving slowly through the platform, Bea gnawed her lip, eyes wide, trying to look for her parents. One of them. Just one would be enough. What looked to be a muggle train attendant caught her eye, and Bea cursed under her breath as he approached. “Can I help you there, love?” He was warm and friendly, but how to explain that she came from a magical school and one or both of her parents could be on this side of the platform, or the other. She sighed internally. She couldn’t. Gripping the handle, Bea opened her mouth to respond when a large hand clamped on her shoulder. “There you are, Chicken!” Bea’s eyes flew wide as she looked up into the scruffy face of her father. Shrieking, she spun on her heel, arms flying around her Da’s stomach for the biggest hug she could muster. “You’re here! You’re here! You’re here!” She kept repeating the litany, burrowing her face into her fathers chest. She felt more than heard her father’s answering bellow laugh. “Yes Bea, I’m here. Thank you for the help.” The last part he directed towards the train attendant, and Bea had never been more grateful for her father’s presence than that moment. With a chuckle, she heard the attendant walk off in the search for the next helpless lost soul.

Squeezing her, Bea’s father eased her back. She looked up into his face, searching for the mirroring joy that she felt. But it wasn’t there. Well, it was a tiny bit. But what radiated the most was sadness. His eyes and nose were red, the pale complexion and red hair so much like her own doing nothing to hide it. His eyes were puffy, like he had been recently crying. Why had her Da been crying? He never cried! Arran Langstreth was a stern northern English farmer, where hard feelings that made you cry were not dealt with. What had happened? Bea grabbed her father’s woollen vest.

“Da…” He shook his head. “It’s good to see you, Bea. I missed you so much!” He continued on whilst he stepped around Bea to grab her trolley, “It’s been so long I almost forgot what you looked like! You’ve grown at least a couple of centimetres!” Bea shook her head. Something was wrong. Da was being too jovial, too happy, just… too much! Bea stood, eyebrows drawn down as her father started to push the trolley towards the station exit. “Da…Why isn’t Ma here?” At the question, her father stopped. Sighed. His shoulders dropped in defeat. Turning around, one hand still holding her Hogwarts belongings like a lifeline, he had the look of defeat all over his face. Coming back to stand in front of her, he clasped his daughters shoulders and looked her in the eye. Bea was a little, no a lot, unnerved. He cleared his throat, emotion making it waver. “I didn’t want to tell you this right now. I was hoping to tell you on the train home. But...it’s your Nan. She…she…,” he closed his eyes, struggling to get the words out, “she passed away last night. A stroke…The healers couldn’t do anything…”

Bea felt weightless, her body giving up as her mind screamed, trying to tell her it wasn’t real. Maybe she was doing the same on the outside. Screaming through the pain. She couldn’t tell. A visceral pain filled her chest, the same spot where her heart was. It felt like it was shattering into a million pieces. There was only white noise rushing in her ears, eyes screwed shut from the onslaught of wet tears that had suddenly appeared from the news. No, no, no!

People were surely looking at this young girl, sobbing on the platform in the early evening in the middle of London, but Bea didn’t care. Nan couldn’t be gone. She just couldn’t. Her favourite person wiped from the Earth for good. In the blink of an eye. Her father curled his arms around her, trying and failing to give her soothing nothings as she sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.