I'd always hated flying. The process at the airport irritated me, I used to get really travel sick when I was younger, I was inevitably always stuck next to a smelly stranger on the plane itself, and in general the whole procedure just seemed to take up an entire day even when the flight itself was only a couple of hours. Knowing that aeroplane travel wasn't even necessary now that fire travel was accessible to me just made the flight to Barcelona that much more frustrating.

The cherry on top was finding out that I had to sit next to Antonio on the flight.

"Want to watch a film?" he asked, getting his tablet out of his bag. "I've got a headphone splitter."

It was a superhero film, Toni's favourite genre. Unfortunately, they'd lost their appeal for me since I'd learned that magic existed, and that James could do pretty much everything the superheroes in the films could without even thinking about it. Most of the storylines in the films, I reflected, seemed a lot less exciting with the knowledge that the wizarding world could defeat any of the villains with relative ease.

And Toni was the worst person to watch a film with. Not five minutes would go by without him interrupting to provide pointless trivia about things that happened during filming, or how things happened 'differently in the comics', or how this bit in this film referenced that bit in that film which I hadn't even seen anyway.

Wearing headphones wasn't enough to stop him either. Instead, to make sure I could hear every word he was saying, he insisted on pulling the headphones away from my ear every time he had something to say.

I was definitely not sitting next to him on the flight home.

The film hadn't finished by the time the plane landed.

"No worries," Toni said brightly, putting his tablet away. "There's about fifty minutes left, we can finish it sometime this week."

Mission number one: avoid Toni all week.

Uncle Emilio was there to meet us at the airport, and had his usual loud, over-enthusiastic reunion hug with Mamá. He then, of course, had to go through the same routine with us, and so it was a while before we all managed to squish into his car in order to head to his house on the outskirts of the city. Emilio had a fairly large car, but it still felt like a squeeze for me, tucked into the back with Nita. Then again, I was used to Harry's magically enhanced car these days.

Luckily for us, Emilio didn't live too far from the airport, and so we weren't in the car for very long. Unfortunately, it transpired that we were the last of the family to arrive, and so we'd be bombarded by the whole family in one fell swoop. This wasn't at all compatible with my normal tactic at family gatherings which was to determinedly avoid all the undesirables as much as possible, and so it was with a sense of trepidation and dread that I half-stepped, half-fell out of the car once we pulled into Emilio's driveway.

I had good reason for the trepidation. Mamá's family was huge. Brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews … it was as though the Spanish didn't have television. There was Mamá's sister Gabriela, who always dressed as though a Prada store had thrown up on her, and her younger brother Luca, who had never gotten married and lived with Emilio and his wife Marisol (not that Marisol liked that). Then there was Mamá's favourite sister Margarita, who I'd been named after – she was the baby of the family, ten years younger than Mamá, and had been staying with her and Dad in Surrey when Mamá was pregnant with me.

There was also Mamá's aunt Conchita, whose children had all been married by about twenty and who always sniffed disapprovingly at the very notion of Juanita and I 'living in sin', while remaining completely clueless as to her husband Mateo's numerous marital discretions.

My cousin Tatiana had been pretty much permanently pregnant for at least the last ten years, and was constantly surrounded by her brood of noisy, irritating children – those kids were a large part of why I wasn't fond of small humans. And then in complete contrast, her brother Jorge seemed to have a different woman on his arm every time we visited (much to aunt Conchita's disgust of course).

Then there was Mamá's cousin Raphael who'd caused an absolute stir a couple of years ago by marrying a woman nearly forty years younger than him. Flavia was barely a year older than me, and was a good decade younger than her own stepchildren. She constantly strived to have a wardrobe as expensive as Gabriela's and a kitchen as nice as Marisol's – all with Raphael's money of course.

And there was the matriarch herself, yaya Maria, who refused to believe that my Parkinson diagnosis was a thing and maintained that all I needed was more exposure to a Mediterranean climate and diet, and a rosary, and a combination of nature and God would cure me.

They were, for the most part, completely exhausting, and I usually found myself seeking out the company of Marisol and her daughters Inez and Beatriz, who were close in age to me and pretty sensible for the most part. And so it was with relief that I spied the three of them together off to one side of the enormous living room Emilio ushered us into, and I scrambled round the outskirts of the family huddle to reach them.

"Come, darling, escape the family drama," Inez said, giving me a one-armed hug.

"What now?" I asked, allowing Marisol to kiss my cheeks.

"Flavia of course," Beatriz said disdainfully. "Apparently the room Mamá offered her wasn't good enough. She's booked herself into a hotel instead."

"Good riddance if you ask me," Marisol added. "I didn't want her staying in my house anyway."

"But of course Gabi told her off for being disrespectful, and then Raphael jumped in to stick up for Flavia, and suddenly there was a big screaming match and Flavia stormed out."

"I don't know why she comes to these family events," I said. "She doesn't like any of us, and she must know that none of us like her."

"Oh, you know what she's like, she can't bear to miss out on an occasion like this, or people might think she wasn't invited and we can't have that," Marisol said scornfully. "And we can't uninvite her without uninviting Raphael as well, and Emilio is too nice to do that."

"Anyway, enough about horrible Flavia," Inez interrupted. "Why have you still not brought the lovely James with you? We really want to meet him, you know."

"Ah, maybe Carla's saving him from having to meet us," Beatriz pointed out.

"There are definitely a lot of people here who I wouldn't want him to meet," I admitted. Although the thought of my wand-waving boyfriend meeting my rosary-clutching grandmother was an amusing one, even if none of my family knew who he really was. "Anyway, my own parents still don't really like him so I don't think they'd be too happy about him coming along."

"I don't understand why; from everything Nita's said about him he sounds wonderful," Inez said.

"Yes, well, Oliver has always been a bit particular about the oddest things," Marisol said. "It doesn't surprise me if your James doesn't tick all his boxes."

It was a pretty accurate summary of my Dad.

But at that moment I was spotted, and my peace was shattered.

"And there's our Carlotta! Oh, you're right Eva, just look at those chubby cheeks! We need to get you on a diet, my dear…"

Later that day, after dinner, Dad pulled me to one side.

"We were right!" he hissed, "he's gonna do it!"

"I – what?"

"Johnny! He's gonna propose to Nita! This week!"

"Well that's good news."

"Isn't it!" Dad was beaming. "Your Mamá's so excited! And Johnny even asked Emilio too, said he didn't want Emilio to feel like he was taking the spotlight and that they'd keep it quiet, and Emilio's said they can announce it at the party on Friday! He's even said they can have their wedding out here if they want!"

"Of course he did, Emilio loves stuff like that," I said. "I mean she's still got to say yes first, remember…"

"You think she won't say yes?" Dad said sharply, his face falling. "Why won't she say yes? Do you know something?"

"No, Dad! I didn't say she won't say yes, I'm sure she will! I'm just saying, don't start assuming they're already engaged. And don't tell anyone else either! Please tell me Mamá isn't off telling the whole family there's going to be a wedding…"

"No, no, she's on her best behaviour. Don't worry, the next person to find out will be Nita."

"Good," I said firmly.

I really hoped she said yes.

The next couple of days passed without incident. We spent the days visiting old friends of Mamá, and the evenings at Emilio and Marisol's, drinking wine and eating dinner well into the night. I was sleeping in Beatriz's room as I usually did, and so when we got tired of the rest of the family we headed up to her room to watch films. Even before I'd met James I had always been somewhat out of touch with Spanish culture, and so Beatriz never questioned when I hadn't seen a recent film.

There was no news from Nita and Johnny either. I could tell that Mamá and Dad were both starting to grow anxious, and I was becoming slightly irritated with them. As much as I adored Johnny, and really hoped Nita said yes, this was for them to be concerned with, not our parents. It was enough that Johnny had even asked Mamá and Dad for their permission – it was such an outdated tradition these days, and I didn't really see how it was their business who any of their children married.

But, of course, this was part of the reason why Johnny got on with them so well – he knew that Dad was set in his ways and he knew how to pander to them. He also would have known that Dad would give his blessing to them marrying without a second thought, so really to Johnny this all would just have been a formality to keep everyone happy.

Still, I wished for Johnny's sake that he could have done this a bit more privately.

But I didn't dwell too much over my sister's love life. I had my own things going on to occupy my mind.

It was Thursday morning when I received the message I'd been looking out for.

Today, 11am. Don't be seen!

I looked up from my phone and glanced around the table at my family, who were all eating breakfast.

"Er, do we have any plans for today? I just thought I might head out for a bit of a wander by myself. I've got a few calls I need to make for work…"

I hesitated for a moment, wary of a bad reaction, but then Johnny stepped in and solved everything without realising.

"Yeah, Nita and I were thinking we might have a day to ourselves if that's alright with everyone."

Of course, the moment he said that, nobody was going to argue with him, because he was clearly going to use the opportunity to get away from the rest of the family to propose to Nita. And nobody was going to deny him that, which meant that nobody would deny me having the day to myself. Or Nita would get suspicious.

Step one complete.

I got myself dressed and ready in double-quick time, and found Emilio waiting by his front door to give me a lift to the train station. From there it was a fairly simple trip on the metro, with just one change, to get to the meeting point.

It was busy in the centre of the city, and I couldn't help being nervous as I scurried up the road, glancing furtively at the passers-by. I had my scarf up round my nose and mouth to ensure that if any of my family were about, they wouldn't recognise me. I couldn't afford anyone reporting back to my parents that I had met up with a man in the middle of La Rambla.

Of course, most of my family hadn't met James, and so it was unlikely they'd recognise him. But letting my parents think I was meeting up with a strange man was just as bad as them learning James was able to pop to Barcelona for the day.

James was waiting for me at the spot we'd arranged. I couldn't help but smile as I saw him; I'd missed him even though I'd only been away for half a week. But before I could so much as say hello, he took my hand and whisked me down a side street, then left into an alleyway I didn't even know existed. Left, right, another right, the alleys constantly growing narrower and darker; I was trying to keep track of where we were in my head but it just didn't make sense, I knew these alleyways couldn't possibly be here, in the middle of one of the busiest areas in the city, a place I knew like the back of my hand-

And then the street opened up in front of us, and I couldn't help but gasp.

"Welcome," James said, "to Calle Magia."

"This…" I began, my eyes moving at triple speed to try to absorb all they were seeing, "this is just unreal…"

It was Barcelona, but not as I'd ever seen her before. It was as though someone had taken one of the streets we'd left behind in the Muggle world, enlarged all the buildings, then somehow squeezed them back into the space they'd originally taken up, added a few turrets to the roofs, painted every door a different colour and also managed to fit a fountain into the middle of the cobbled plaza.

If you'd asked me to combine Barcelona and Diagon Alley, the street of my imagination would be a pale imitation of this.

"But – how can't Muggles find it?"

"Magia, my dear," James said with a smile. "I thought you knew how all this worked by now?"

"I know, but we just popped down a side street … but that street shouldn't even be there…"

"Stop thinking about it and go explore," James grinned, nudging me forwards.

I didn't need telling twice.

I had to exercise a lot of self-control to not spend all of January's earnings on a gorgeous set of dress robes – given I'd spent most of December's wage on a perfectly good set that I'd only worn once – and I had to stop James from buying half the sweet shop. But I couldn't resist buying a Spanish magical history book from the bookshop, despite James teasing me about buying a school book.

It took us a while to wind our way down the street, and not just because we were taking our time in the shops. James was constantly being greeted by others in the street, not because he was a Potter – the Spanish were mad about their Quidditch and knew of him as a Falmouth Falcons icon and a World Cup winner. But eventually we reached our lunch spot, an incredibly popular café run by Señora Sánchez. James had booked us a table, and it was the Señora herself who greeted us with immense excitement and showed us to our spot.

After a long and leisurely lunch, which seemed far too cheap – Señora Sánchez had almost certainly given James a discount – it was time for the next surprise.

At first glance it looked as though James had just dumped us both in the middle of the Spanish countryside. But after a few steps forwards in the direction he indicated-

"Quidditch hoops!" I looked back at him, my eyes wide. "Are we watching a Quidditch match?"

"The Banshees are playing the Seville Serpents," he said with a grin. "I thought you might want to check it out."

Ever since I'd learned of their existence I'd supported the all-female Barcelona Banshees. I watched the Quidditch Channel every time their matches were broadcast, followed the Spanish League standings avidly, and had been lucky enough to have met a couple of the players in England during the World Cup. But I'd never seen them play live before.

"Come on, let's get good seats."

It was an incredible game. The Banshees and the Serpents were the top two teams in the League, and the way they played demonstrated that. Even James was in awe of some of the Chaser plays. Eventually, a good two hours into the game, the Banshees Seeker caught the Snitch and secured them the win.

It had already been an incredible day. But it wasn't over yet, for James still had his ace up his sleeve. As we got to the bottom of the stands, instead of heading to the exit in order to Disapparate back to the city, he led me to the changing rooms.

"No…"

"I called in a favour," he said simply. "Want to meet the teams?"

I couldn't say yes fast enough.

The players were just as excited to meet us as I was to meet them, which I found crazy. James' appeal made sense, but it seemed as though I'd attracted some sort of cult following throughout wizarding continental Europe - apparently everyone these days knew about the Muggle who ran the wizarding pub.

It wasn't long before we found ourselves back in the city, with the Banshees squad, propping up the bar in Calle Magia. We were having such a good time that it wasn't until my phone rang a good while later that I realised what the time was.

"Shit," I muttered, as I realised it was my Dad phoning me. "James, I think I'm going to need to head home – hi, Daddy!"

"Carly, where are you? Your mother's worried, and Marisol wants to know if you're going to be back in time for dinner!"

"Yes, I'm just on my way back now, I'll be-" I paused, glancing at James, "-fifteen minutes," I finished, reciting the words he had just mouthed at me.

"Don't be late," Dad said sternly, and hung up.

I let out a long sigh, stuffing my phone back into my bag.

"I don't want to go back…"

"It is getting on," James said, "I should probably be heading home as well, I've got an early start tomorrow to make up for having today off. You'll need to let me know where I'm Apparating to…"

Ten minutes later I was heading up the long drive towards Emilio's front door, my heart feeling heavy. I'd had the most incredible day, and it had been an absolute wrench to have had to say goodbye to all our new friends and leave Barcelona's magical world behind. And I hated that I'd had to walk away from James and let him Apparate back to our home on his own, even though it was only another few days until I'd be back there with him.

But the worst part of all was the feeling that, in the city in which my own mother had grown up, the city I'd visited at least twice a year every year, the city in which we'd spent our summers as children and that I knew – or thought I knew – like the back of my hand, it was today, in the magical world, that I'd felt most at home.

Our last day in Spain was full of distractions which meant I didn't have much time to dwell on my thoughts. Johnny had proposed to Juanita, and to my absolute joy she'd said yes. They took Mamá, Dad, Toni and me out to lunch to tell us the news before letting the rest of the family know at Emilio's huge birthday party that night. Nita had asked me if I would be a bridesmaid – not that they had a clue when or where they would actually get married – and I of course said yes.

It was nice to think that I had a family occasion on the horizon that it wouldn't feel like a chore to attend.

The party that night was as big and bonkers as Emilio's gatherings usually were. I bailed as soon as Nita and Johnny had made their announcement, with the excuse that I wanted an early night ready for our flight home tomorrow – we did have an early flight, and luckily most of the family knew I was a notoriously bad flyer, so the excuse had legs.

In reality, once upstairs I got out my notebook and looked over the design I'd been working on for the programme layout for the Quidditch match. I hadn't had much chance to look over it all week, as I was having to keep it hidden from everyone else, but I knew Lily wanted to have a rough template in place by next week. It was yet another reason why I'd found this week frustrating – I knew that businesses were sending in their adverts for the programme and Lily would be tearing her hair out trying to keep track of what was going on.

It probably made me a terrible person, that instead of being downstairs joining in with a big family celebration, I was upstairs on my own wishing I was with my boyfriend's family instead. But I supposed I'd always felt as though I didn't have all that much in common with my family, that despite us being flesh and blood I'd somehow always envisaged myself going down a different path to the one I was supposed to take. Admittedly I hadn't anticipated that path being Hogsmeade High Street. But it was as though the enforced distance that living in the wizarding world had created between me and my family had just emphasised our differences.

And my father's behaviour at the end of the week only served to prove a point.

For the most part he behaved the entire time James was with us over the weekend. He was very friendly when James met us at the airport – purporting to have arrived on a flight from Scotland half an hour before our flight from Spain landed – and spent a good hour or so that afternoon looking over James' golf clubs, even replacing a couple of the grips that had worn through. Luckily it turned out that Kit's clubs, while a bit tired, were at least good ones, and Kit and Lily had done a good job of explaining the difference between a wood and an iron – in fact, it sounded as though James' knowledge of golf was already better than mine.

Dad was even polite when speaking to James about his work, despite the fact I knew he didn't think much of him being a sports teacher. Although admittedly James' performance at the golf course, in which he beat Toni and Johnny and nearly beat Dad, seemed to go some way to improving Dad's opinion of him. James was evidently a skilled sportsman, and so perhaps he wasn't a total hopeless case.

I just couldn't believe that James had managed to beat my brother at golf having not known the right way to hold a club a week ago. And Toni's reaction to losing made it even more satisfying.

In fact, Dad almost nailed it, and it was only right at the end of my visit, after I'd said goodbye to Mamá, Nita, Johnny and Toni, and Dad had given James and me a lift to the train station to catch our train to London (as far as he was aware, to head to Euston for the sleeper train, in reality to get to Charing Cross and Floo home from the Leaky Cauldron) when he showed his colours.

The train pulled into the station, and James busied himself with getting our bags on board while I stayed to say my goodbyes.

"Bye, Dad. Thanks for this week."

"See you, Carly. Call me when you get home, okay?" Dad gave me one of his bone-splitting hugs. "You know, Clive at the club reckons he could get you a job at the clubhouse restaurant if you want? It's good pay, and you could move back in with us-"

I pushed him away and took a few steps back, staring at him incredulously.

"But I don't want to work at the clubhouse and move back in with you!" I said. "Is that really what you want for me?"

"I just want you to be happy, Carly-"

"No, you don't!" I cried, my blood boiling. "Because I'm happy now, I like my job, I like where I live and I'm happy with James! What will it take for you to support me, like you do Nita and Toni? I'm sorry I didn't go to university, I'm sorry I don't have some fancy executive job, I'm sorry I don't have the sort of boyfriend you want me to have, but that's not me! I don't expect you to boast about me to your mates at the club like you do the others, but it would be really nice if you could be happy for me for once. Or is that too much to ask?"

I didn't give him a chance to respond, but spun on my heel and marched towards James and the train, without so much as a glance over my shoulder.