The American Badger and Her Lion

The Day Before Hogwarts

Dear Diary,

Mom said I should start keeping one of these while I'm gone at school, so here goes.

Today is August 31st, 1990, and I was getting the last of my luggage sorted before being tossed this old leather journal, no offense, of course. Tomorrow will be September 1st, which means school is starting back. Now, I'll go ahead and tell you, dearest Journal, this isn't any ordinary school. No, that would be too easy, doncha think?

My mom's voice rang me from my thoughts, "Millie! Come downstairs, please." I dropped my pen and, with one movement, bounced from my bed. My footsteps shook the whole house as I ran down the stairs. I stepped off the landing and rushed into the kitchen.

The kitchen was like any kitchen you would see in the countryside of Ireland, a warm beige with older green appliances and a large dark metal chandelier hanging from the ceiling over a rustic kitchen table. In the deep sink basin, a sponge slowly and methodically cleaned a frying pan on its own. The sunlight from the window in front of the sink caught on tiny sparkling specs floating around the pan and sponge.

Did I mention, Journal, that I grew up in a wizarding family?

My mom was sitting at the table, a cup of hot tea in her hands. She took a long sip before shaking her head and pushing the mug away. "I miss Southern tea," she said with a laugh as I joined her at the table. "I miss Tennessee." I silently agreed with her.

Around this time last year, my dad went missing. He was doing some work here in Ireland for The Ministry when we lost contact with him. After a while, the searches stopped, and he was pronounced dead. Right before the insurance money ran out, my mom bought us plane tickets, and we shipped our belongings to my paternal grandparent's home. While I helped my grandparents and met aunts and uncles I didn't even know I had, my mom found us a new home in the countryside. We moved out and into our little house. Luckily enough, our new home was in a wonderful wizarding community, and I met a few of my future classmates. My mom found a new job as a nurse.

"I'm sure you'll make even more friends once school starts," my mom said with a smile. She reached across the kitchen table to ruffle my hair. "You were always so good at finding friends."

I felt my throat close up as I thought of all my friends back in the States. They were all already in school, and across a great expanse of ocean, I would probably never see any of them ever again. My mom could tell my mood had changed because her hand went away from my head and to my hands.

She squeezed them tightly. "You will be fine on your own." I nodded slowly. I will do fine on my own.

There was a pause before my mom stood, leaving me sitting alone. "The main reason I called you down here is they need me at the clinic, so you'll have to make something for yourself. You're free to head into town and find something, but there should be plenty here for you to make." She stood from the kitchen table and kissed the top of my head. I watched as she grabbed her keys from the hook by the door and left.

Once I had heard the car pull out of the driveway and drive away, I jumped up from the table. I searched the different cabinets before finally searching the freezer. Sighing, I resigned to grab one of the many freezer-ready meals and opened the microwave before placing it inside and setting the cook timer.

Alright, I know I could've made something to eat that was a "real meal" but c'mon! If we have Hot Pockets, I'm going to eat a Hot Pocket.

Once the timer went off, I pulled the hot plate from the microwave and sat at the table to eat my delicious, gourmet meal. Finishing it quickly, I wiped the molten hot pizza sauce off the corners of my mouth and placed my plate in the sink. The sponge immediately began cleaning, and I headed back into my room.

Back in my room, I slowly looked around. Most of my clothes had already been packed away, only really leaving my summer clothes and swimsuits. All that was left were little knickknacks and any pictures I wanted.

It felt weird, already leaving the place I had just started calling my own. I knew I would miss it. The paintings I wouldn't be able to bring with me. The bed and sheets had just started to smell like home. The little chandelier light I had explicitly asked for. Would it still feel like mine when I get back?

I shook myself from my thoughts and picked up a picture frame. Inside the moving picture was me and my parents from when my father was still alive. We had just finished flying kites when my father practically begged us to stop to take a photo. Mom looked so happy. We all looked so happy. My eyes lingered on my father's face. The green eyes that matched my own.

Wiping the stray tears on my cheeks, I placed the picture into my luggage and continued. There were more pictures: me as a child at a random farm, petting someone's horses, my mother and father, holding a baby in a hospital room, my mom looking exhausted but so happy. I left that one out for her to keep. I placed more in my suitcase: old friends from elementary school, playdates as toddlers, and my grandparents. Trying to ignore the burn of tears, I closed the bag and zipped it up.

I stood up straight and took in a deep breath. Everything was ready. Most of my clothes were packed away. There was a set of clothes to change into, sitting on my dresser. I sat on my bed, looking at the room I'd be leaving tomorrow.

My stomach twisted with the idea of what was to come. I would be leaving home without my mother for the first time. I would be waking up with other girls my age. There would be no mom down the hall and no early morning teas. Would I even be allowed coffee at Hogwarts? Now that was probably an important question.

It was getting late and I knew I'd have to be awake early to leave. I took one final glance around the room, checking for anything I might've missed. Most of my books would have to stay to collect dust and I wasn't allowed to bring my cassette player or any of my tapes. So not cool.

Okay, so maybe I did stuff my walkman into my suitcase. What my mom doesn't know won't hurt her. And I literally won't be able to survive school if I can't listen to music.

I laid back on my back, looking up at the slanted ceiling, as if trying to remember the textured plaster. Never understood why my mom was so excited to see the ceiling of all things. Sighing deeply, I climbed under the covers, not even worrying about changing out of my clothes. I reached over, turned off the lamp sitting on my nightstand, and fell asleep not long after.