✧ 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 ✧
September, 2023

Honey rushed through King's Cross Station, nearly running into three families, five station workers, and a (now very cross) elderly couple. She was small, tiny even, at only 138cm, so normally she wouldn't have hurt anyone if she did hit them, even with her bulky backpack bouncing around on her back...though the large cart she pushed would've surely made more of a dent.

She wasn't alone; no eleven-year-old could make the long journey she had by themself, especially considering she'd never stepped foot in England before this day. Her mother, Moira, huffed and puffed behind her, struggling to keep up with her rambunctious daughter. "Isn't it a bit - erm, odd - how we're meant tae leave Scotland, drive eight hours tae London, just tae put ye on a train takin' ye right back tae Scotland?" Moira's voice carried a hint of amusement and incredulity.

Honey, bubbling with excitement and a touch of pre-teen impatience, responded, "It's the only way I can get tae the school, Mum!"

"Slow down, Honeybee! We're about there...erm, I think." Moira heaved, eyes darting back and forth between the station map she'd pulled up on her smartphone and the platform numbers hanging above them. "Can ye no just magic yersel' in there?"

Honey slowed down...for her, anyway. So, still walking at a slightly faster pace than normal. How else was she to keep up with all the busy adults around her. "I don't ken, maybe I'll learn how."

"Oh! Then ye can magic yersel' back hame for Christmas, Honeybee!"

"I'll have tae take the train for that an' all."

"Dang it!" Moira exclaimed. "Ach, well-" She paused and grabbed the back of Honey's red, dusty jumper (well worn from many fruitful days outside - though perhaps not nearly as clean as Moira'd like, especially for a day like this) to finally stop her always-moving child. She looked around the station with a puzzled expression. "I was thinkin' there'd be, like, a platform here."

"We have tae go through the wall, that's whit the man who came tae our hoose said," Honey noted as she pointed towards the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, excitement bubbling within her before beginning to rush off once more.

Moira's memory jogged, "Right, Professor What's-His-Face, er-" She trailed off, looking around. Surely Honey couldn't have lost herself in the crowd already. "Love? Honeybee?"

"In here!" Honey's voice came muffled from the other side of the barrier. The other side of the barrier. A brick wall.

Before the Muggle mother could process the fact that a wall sounded like her daughter, Honey's tiny hand reached out from it, looking nearly disembodied, then grabbed and pulled Moira through.

In a split-second, there they both were: Platform 9 3/4. Just as busy as the rest of King's Cross, though a little...different. Older looking, perhaps, in an elegantly vintage sort of way.

"Brilliant," Moira said, the sights around her reflecting off of her almost comically large spectacles. These people were just like her...she could feel it. Almost like their energy was vibrating around her. Its warmth was palpable and soothing, like standing next to a bunch of moving, cozy fireplaces.

It was perhaps the first time she'd felt she'd belonged somewhere. And this was a train station...what would Hogwarts be like?

Moira, however, felt a little different...shell-shocked, perhaps. Outside of some of the antics Honey pulled at home, she'd never been exposed to this much...well, magic. "Oh my God, I just walked through a wall..." she whispered.

Though, she too would've let herself get caught up in her surroundings if it weren't for the conductor calling out, "Hogwarts Express will depart in five minutes!" So, she shook her head a bit to snap herself out of her haze.

"Okay, let's have a wee look at ye, eh, Honey?" She turned to Honey, beginning every mother's ritual of ensuring her child had everything needed. "So, robe?"

It was hanging off one of the cart's handles, so Honey took off her backpack, hurriedly put it on, and then the bag once more. "Check."

Moira smirked. "Backpack?"

"Cheeeeck." Honey quickly twirled around, showing off her favorite yellow Fjallraven, a gift from her Aunt Lucy.

"Money?"

"Wizard or...regular?"

"Wizard, I guess." Moira thought it was quite posh of wizards to have literal gold pieces for currency.

"Check."

"Trunk?"

"Check."

"Big... cauldron...thingy?"

"Can't miss it." Honey chuckled. Her tin cauldron, required for school, stood precariously at the top of her suitcase - well, not for long, as a train attendant was preparing to grab it and stow it under the train.

That was it, right? "Eh, I feel like we're forgettin' somethin'..." Moira's forehead creased in thought.

"Huh? I checked the cart at least three times on our way up here-"

"Oh! I remember," Moira proclaimed, eyes widening and giddy smile tugging at the edge of her cheeks. She reached into her bag, pulling out a few carefully wrapped packages. "A few goin' away presents."

"Mum..." Honey's voice was a mixture of protest and delight. While she'd never pass up a gift, she knew her and her mother had barely enough to scrape by as is - hopefully she didn't spend too much.

"No ifs, ands, or buts, Honeybee. This is a huge moment for ye! Gifts are absolutely necessary!" Moira handed her the first gift, half-a-palm sized and wrapped in old holiday paper. "This first one's from Granny and Grandpa. Of course, they think ye're off tae some fancy boarding school for ecto...en...enta-marry-gists."

"Entomologists," Honey corrected. "Good thing they've no idea how tae use Google, it'd be dead easy tae figure out Chuxley School for Insect Enthusiasts is pure make-believe."

"I had tae come up with somethin' tae tell them, Honey."

Honey grinned, unwrapping the gift to reveal a small pin. "It's a wee bee!" Her eyes lit up. "Honeybee, I think. Like me." It felt like it was made of enamel, and had two fastenings on the side of each wing, which were spread out, almost as if it were in flight, about to buzz in her ear.

"That it is, and ye can..." Moira gently took it from Honey's hand and began to fasten it. "...pin it just like this tae your robe." She attached it in such a way that it brought the robe's opening together in the center of Honey's sternum.

"Good. The front keeps flappin' open." Honey looked down at her robes, adjusting them self-consciously.

"Ah, and this one's from me, Honeybee." Moira's voice held a special warmth as she handed over another package. It was roughly the same size as the first, though this was wrapped in old newspaper - the Hollidays rarely had wrapping paper at home, even during times of gift giving.

Honey feverishly unwrapped the gift to reveal a small, simple necklace: a small, nearly perfect acorn, covered in a thin layer of resin and attached to a brown cord. She beamed. "Did ye make this yersel', Mum?"

"Sure did. Picked the bonniest acorn I could find from your favourite tree."

"The one wi' the swing?"

"How many trees wi' rope swings do we have?!"

"Fair point..." Honey laughed, her heart swelling with love as she slipped the necklace over hear head - the cord was just long enough to fit over her curly red hair. "I love it. It's perfect. They both are, Mum," she said as she attacked her mother with a big hug; while Honey was teeny, her mother was hardly much bigger at 148cm, so the older woman wobbled back slightly with her daughter's sheer force.

As she embraced her daughter, Moira's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she said, "Whenever ye look at these, whether ye're in class, or wi' your pals, or, heh, sneakin' a new bug intae your dormitory-"

"What? I don't-" Honey started to protest.

"Shush. I ken ye, Honeybee. Ye love your bugs more than most things."

"Not more than I love ye, Mum!" Honey said, nearly starting to cry herself.

With a dramatic inhale, perhaps to keep herself from weeping in front of all these people, Moira continued, "...Whenever ye look at these, think of home, Honey. You'll always have a home, nae matter what. Okay?"

"...Okay, Mum." Honey whispered. "Love ye."

"Love ye, tae, Honeybee."

Unfortunately, their embrace was cut off with a last call for boarding from the conductor. It was already 10:59. "Ah, they're right on time, eh?" Moira said, quickly wiping at her eyes. "They have yer stuff, good. Well, off ye go then."

"Right," Honey said, bounding into the door of the closest car. Just then, the train started slowly moving. Before heading inside, however, she turned back toward her mother, who was in a sea of other similarly tearful parents waving goodbye to their children, and called out, "No phones, so I'll write every week!"

"Twice a week, at least!" Moira replied, her toothy smile mixed with tears and pride. This would be the longest they'd ever been apart, her and her daughter.

"Ye got it!" Honey replied before quickly turning back into the train, which was starting to go faster, shaking with movement and releasing the occasional whooooooo of its whistle. This was it. This was beginning of the next seven years of Honey's life. It was all starting to hit her, and she now wasn't sure if the shaking was just from the train, or perhaps moreso from her little legs.

As she stood in the train's gangway, unsure of where to go next - she had to find a seat, and quickly, after all - Honey looked at all the kids walking by her, some with friends, others alone and nervous like her, and thought to herself:

I hope people like bugs, 'ere...