Note to self: Never teach twins Hindi ever again!

The doorbell rang as Ila was busy stirring the large silver pot filled with steaming chicken curry. She had been stuck in the kitchen for a couple of hours, under the watchful eye of her auntie. Ila begged her to crack a window open at least, but she didn't want to neighbours to know. Growing up in a white neighbourhood for her whole life, her auntie always feared everyone judging her for being different.

Old habits do die hard.

Her auntie looked at Ila before warning her, "If I see you even step a foot out of this kitchen when you're not supposed to, I'll-"

"Shove me into the oven and serve me to all the guests?" Ila asked nicely, wiping sweat from her brow. The kitchen was stifling, with all the hot air trapped in it, so you can imagine just how uncomfortable it was doing it all in a salwar khameez, a traditional Asian dress that was always seemed to be made out of the most irritating fabrics. Ila pulled up her sleeves once again, the netting aggravating her skin. Small silver sequins lines stabbed into her neck. Ila didn't need to see a mirror to see her scratched up the chest.

"If someone asks where you went," her auntie said, "you were living back in India when we decided that you should come and stay with us."

"That would only work if I have an Indian accent," Ila said.

"It doesn't matter; you won't be speaking to anyone anyway," her auntie said just as the doorbell rang once more. "Aadit, get the door!"

"I can't," Ila heard her uncle say from the living room, sounding distracted. "The game's just started."

"What is it with men and their cricket?" Ridhi auntie grumbled in Hindi as she went to the door. Ila watched her get into character; the Asian Auntie, the thirteenth archetype. Meddlesome, erratic and always seem to have ear piercing laugh that you can always hear from your bedroom upstairs.

With the door closed.

And with your pillow covering your ears.

Ila's auntie sighed before opening the door, letting the family in, familiar shrills of greeting from the women and hearty laughter from the men. Children eagerly pushed through legs to get to the house to explore, or as Ila called it, destroy everything in their path.

It's like the moment they hear, 'We're going to Ishani apu's house today,' a switch is flicked on, and their only mission is to smash, crack or shove everything in their way.

Ila smiled to herself, knowing that her door was magically sealed, a birthday present from Ron, so they weren't going to be able to get in. The same can't be said for Ishani.

Speaking of, Ila could hear footsteps thudding down their stairs. There was another spike in shrieks as aunties cooed at the sight of the now grown-up Ishani. They hugged and questioned her. Ila saw the frustration etch deeper into her cousin's face, the same frustration from when Ridhi asked Ishani about looking into suitors.

But soon, the women left the hallway, the men already finding their places in the living room to watch the cricket match, and made their way into the kitchen. Ila stared at the bubbling curry and concentrated on the strong smells of spices wafting through her nose. Maybe if she just stayed still, they wouldn't see her.

"So this must be Ila," one of the auties said in a voice painfully reminding her of Pansy Parkinson's. She looked up and smiled at the aunties. Thankfully there were only three, and two of them were already preoccupied with their children, who would, unfortunately, cling to them for the rest of the evening. The third one seemed young, around in her late twenties. She wore a blue sari, a similar shade to Ridhi auntie's and had hair neatly twirled into a bun. She also had the thinnest eyebrows Ila had ever seen. And her auntie's were pretty much non-existent.

"Ila, this is your Pinkie auntie," Ridhi auntie said, introducing her. Pinkie auntie broke into a big smile before engulfing Ila into a bone-crushing hug. She was stabbed with little jewels on her face once more, and the netting on her dress itched her skin further. Pinkie auntie aggressively hugged Ila side to side before pulling away a bit. She inspected her face, her eyes flicking to the scar, except it wasn't for the usual reasons.

"Do you remember me?" Pinkie asked enthusiastically. "I saw you when you were a baby. You were soooo cute! I remember carrying you in my arms, and I just wanted to pinch your cheeks until they burst!"

"Wonderful," Ila said, unnerved. Ila glanced at Ridhi auntie, who watched the encounter warily, waiting for Ila to do something bad.

She could have.

In fact, Ila wanted to. She could feel the heat of her wand, which was shoved in her waistband, as it pressed against her stomach. And yet, she made no move to use it.

What could she do with it exactly?

Yeah, she could blow this auntie up - who seemed way too young even to be an 'auntie' - but she's been there, done that. Besides, she couldn't do magic outside of Hogwarts, and she didn't want to know what would happen if she did. So instead, she smiled at the 'auntie' and stepped away to the oven to check on the food.

While stirring the food, she overheard the story that her uncle and auntie had decided to explain Ila's sudden appearance.

"So what happened with her?" one of the aunties said. "How come we haven't seen her after all these years?"

"Ila didn't have the best life before she came here," Ridhi auntie said, putting on her best emotional voice. "Her parents died in a car crash…my sister was her mother…."

The bubbles in the curry popped at a quicker rate at the sound of Ridhi's voice. Heatwaves rippled, blurring Ila's vision. Warm beads of sweat rolled down her forehead and neck. From the way Ridhi auntie usually spoke about Ila's mother, you wouldn't know they were sisters at all.

Ridhi auntie waited for the aunties to coo sympathetically before carrying on with her story. "We tried to get in touch with the police, but you know how they are…they wouldn't let us take her away with us, so they made her go back to India."

"Are they allowed to do that?"

Of course not, Ila thought.

"Of course they are," her auntie said. "Only in special circumstances, though. It wasn't until a few years ago that we managed to get her living here with us."

The aunties made sympathetic sounds once again, and the doorbell rang once again. Her auntie went to get it again, leaving the aunties to watch Ila. She opened the door, and once again, aunties squealing. At the same time, the uncles rushed to get to the living room, the cycle repeating again and again.

It was a few hours later, and the party was drawing into a closure. There was always a formula to Asian parties that Ila figured out by observing the few parties. She liked to break into a three-part structure, The Beginning, The Middle and The End, or Acts 1, 2 and 3. Act 1 was obviously the introductions and greetings. Children are excited to see their friends and rush up to their rooms; the aunties are all a bit nervous, trying to find that thing that broke the ice and the uncles…watched T.V while talking about land? Ila didn't really pay attention to them.

Act 2 consisted of catching up, gossiping, which would usually last for a few hours and the part of the party that Ila hated the most. Since she rarely went out, the parties she did go to, she didn't know anyone. The only people she did know were her auntie, who was busy talking to her friends, her uncle, who was busy…doing something and her cousin, who ran off the moment she saw her friends. She was stuck in some sort of limbo. She would always watch everyone around her, talk, laugh, eat. Act 3 was probably her favourite. Just after everyone's eaten, everyone relaxes and the talk of going home finally become a topic of interest.

"You two go turn the lights off, and I'll bring the cake out, ok?" Ila's auntie asked her and Ishani, though it sounded more like a command than a question. The two girls nodded and made their way to the living room, where Ridhi auntie told everyone to go to. As Ila thought, Ishani walked straight past the light switch to where her friends were. Ila slowly followed her in, no one regarding her as she entered the packed room. All the seats on couches and armchairs were taken up by children, which meant parents had to shoo them away so that elderly guests could sit on them.

The children were banished to the floor, though it looked like they didn't mind. The younger children were busy playing with Ishani's childhood toys or some of their own that they had brought. The clash of cars crashing into each other, children's exaggerated sound effects were all a part of the general hubbub of the room. Occasionally the odd shrill of laughter would pierce through, but the low mutters of uncles talking, along with the random Hindi song all the parents used to listen to when they were younger, balanced it out. Ila's eyes travelled around the room, taking it all in when her eyes landed on an older woman sitting on the couch, doing the exact thing Ila was doing. She wore a large jacket with a fur collar, even though it was the middle of the hottest month of the year. She also wore a blue scarf on her head, and her bag pushed under the couch – it was Mrs Figg. Ila did wonder why it smelt so much like a cat -

BANG!

Ila's eyes were drawn to the fireplace. No one else had heard it. They probably thought it was one of the children hitting their toys too hard. But it was coming from the fireplace. Ila checked the surroundings. There wasn't a single person near the fireplace.

BANG!

There it was again. This time it was louder. There was a dip in the volume of the room as more people were wondering what the noise was.

Ila suddenly heard a hiss, and for a moment, she thought a snake was stuck in the fireplace, calling it out to her until she heard it say her name in a similar way Ridhi auntie would if she got annoyed with Ila.

"Why aren't the lights off?" her auntie said feverishly. She was hiding behind the walls, careful not to show the candle's flicker into the living room.

"Sorry, I got…." Ila glanced at the fireplace. It was probably nothing. Maybe rats.

"Just turn off the lights now!"

The room erupted into darkness, causing everyone to be silent with shock. Most people looked up at the lights, wondering how a power-cut could have happened. Even Aadit uncle was getting slightly distressed, especially when he saw Ila standing lazily by the light switch, staring at the fireplace. Just as he was about to shout at her, he was cut off by the voice of an angel.

Well, only to him anyway.

Ila thought she sounded like a mutated siren; rather than lulling soldiers to her, she terrifies them by the sound of her voice.

"Happy Birthday to you," she sang as she entered the room, holding the cake that was filled with candles. At this point, everyone had realised what was going on and started singing with her. The auntie whose birthday it was – an auntie that Ila didn't even know the name of – was pushed to the front, blushing. Everyone clapped. "Happy Birthday to-"

BANG!

This time it sounded like fists banging against the walls of the fireplace. But unless Ila had been under a rock all these years, rats didn't have fists that were large enough to make that noise. Or even if they did, why would they knock on the wall? Surely they would just scurry out of the fireplace to get food? That's just ruining the element of-

"What was that?" one of the children asked, breaking the silence.

"I'm sure it was nothing," Ila's auntie said, nervously chuckling. She shared a glance at Ila's uncle, who smiled and shook his head. "Why don't we start over?"

It took a few seconds for people to forget about the noises from the fireplace. Still, soon everyone started over, once again clapping and humming along with the tune of Happy Birthday until it happened again.

The flame on the candles started to burn out. Melted wax was beginning to drip onto the cake. A whine from a child caused parents to start to get concerned. Many of them pulled their children towards them.

"Is it a ghost?" a child cried.

There's no such thing –

Oh.

Unless Peeves managed to get out of Hogwarts, Ila would doubt that he would choose to haunt her out of all the students. If it were anyone, it would have been the twins. But that still didn't stop shiver trailing down her spine as a draft bristled past her. Since when did the lights from the other rooms turn off too? She took a few steps closer to the group, away from the door.

"Look, it's probably nothing," Aadit uncle said, though, from the sound of his voice, he couldn't even convince himself. He took the cake from his wife's hand, who was shaking with fear and was about to start singing when another bang came from the fireplace. But that wasn't what caused everyone to move away from the fireplace.

"Oh, stop it, Fred, can't you see you're scaring them!"

Even though it was muffled, Ila could still make the annoyed voice of Mr Weasley travelling through the walls.

Ila blinked at the boarded-up fireplace.

WHAT?

What the hell was the Weasley's doing here? Ila didn't remember Ron saying anything about them coming here…or getting stuck in the fireplace.

"How else are we supposed to get Ila to notice us?" Fred's voice said, followed by another bang, startling the guests.

Aadit slowly turned to Ila. With the flame of the candle underneath him being the only source of light, his face was morphed into a terrifying creature.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" he shouted, which made one of the children start to cry.

"Oh, I think she's there," George said. "ILA! ILA, WE'RE STUCK HERE! COME HELP!"

"George, there are other people in there, and I think it's quite obvious that they're frightened."

"Besides, I can't hear anything anymore, so I think they've heard us."

Ila nervously chuckled as she sidestepped her uncle and pushed through the crowd of guests, all watching her step towards the fireplace.

"Er – Mr Weasley, that is you in there?" Ila asked, though she already knew he was in there.

"Technically speaking, yes, but maybe not the right – "

"George!" Mr Weasley warned. "Yes, Ila, it's me."

"Erm – forgive me if it's obvious but er – why are you here? Stuck in my fireplace?"

"We asked ourselves the same thing Ila," Fred groaned. It sounded like he hit his head against the wall.

"Haven't you heard from Ron yet?" Mr Weasley asked.

"Not since my birthday. The only other letter I've got was today – the one about the Quidditch tournament. I made a deal with my uncle that if I helped out at the party that I would go, but" – Ila peeked a glanced behind her – "I don't think that's going to happen."

"You can't have that boy do anything!" he muttered to himself before explaining to Ila, "You were supposed to get a letter from Ron letting you know that we were coming to pick you up. We weren't sure if our letter came in time through the post, so we asked him to send you one by owl a couple of nights ago…" there was a faint mutter of curses. "Anyway, we were going to pick you up by Floo, but it seems…."

"We've been stuck here for fifteen minutes, Ila!" George said.

"Yeah, sorry about that, er – it got blocked up. It 'cos we have an electric heater…we don't really…." Ila didn't think now was the right time to explain the history of her fireplace.

"Ah!" Mr Weasley said. "I have heard about electricity before…something to do…hmm…what was the name again…."

"Dad!" Fred muttered.

"Right," he said, snapping out of his trance. "Well, there's only one way to get out of this. Ila, I need you and the guests to step back from the fireplace."

Ila heard the sound of the guests moving far away from the living room. She obeyed Mr Weasley's instructions walked back to the door of the living room. Unfortunately, there was one person who didn't listen.

"What the hell do you think you're going?" he asked, one hand balancing the cake while the other took hold of her arm. "This is all your fault!"

"I didn't know they were coming –"

"You're little liar," he spat. "You probably knew they were going to be here this whole time! You planned this from the beginning. You and the goras!"

"Don't call them that!"

"It's my house. I can call them whatever I want to," he growled before walking to the fireplace.

"Aadit! Please don't," his wife called out to him. Unlike her husband and daughter, Ridhi was the only other person who understood the extent of magic.

"You listen here, whoever you are, I am giving three seconds to show yourself. One…two…thre-"

The sound of an explosion cut off Aadit uncle.

Cries were heard as bits of wood flew in the air.

Parents covered their children.

They wafted the dust away.

Emerging from the fireplace were three tall, white, red-haired men. At the sight of this, many screamed, one of the aunties even fainting. Aadit, who was in the middle of it, was surprisingly fine.

Apart from the soot and cake that got splatter on his face. A piece of it fell on the floor with a heavy 'plop.' There was even a candle stuck up his nose.

"Oooh, cake!" Fred said before wiping a bit of cake from Aadit's face and then into his mouth. "Yum! Who made this? Ridhi? Huh? Huh?"

"Shut up, Fred!" his father hissed at him before looking back at the crowd in front of him. "Erm…oh what was it?...Ah…Hello everyone," Mr Weasley said smiling, "Or should I say, Bhosdi Wale Kuttiya. I'm Mr Weasley." Mr Weasley gave a 'how – did – I – do?' look at Ila.

Her eyes bulged out of her socket at Mr Weasley's 'greeting'. She didn't know if she was surprised or she should have expected this coming.

This was the last time she taught the twins anything in Hindi.

"What did you say?" her uncle yelled loudly, walking up to him. There seemed to be a red under the glow from him, which Ila didn't know if it was the trick of the light or real.

"Mr Weasley," Ila quickly said, hoping her uncle wouldn't try to throw punches as they did in all the Hindi films he watched religiously every day. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Did Ron not tell you?" Mr Weasley asked, unfazed by the number of death glares he was currently receiving. "Merlin, you can't trust the boy to do anything…we're here to collect you.

"I thought you weren't supposed to come until next week," Ila said.

"That was Ron's job. He was supposed to let you know that our letter was postponed by a week."

"Oh," Ila said and looked over to her uncle, who was shaking.

"I'm sorry, sir," Mr Weasley said earnestly, "It was my fault-"

"Of course it is," her uncle said. "It's always you people that try to pin it on us just because we're Asian. Do you think we're dumb? Just because I went university in India doesn't mean I am any less than you."

"Er…no…"

A couple of the uncles agreed with Ila's, the crowd surrounding them murmuring agreements.

"And how dare you come into my house, ruin my property, scare my guests and say those disgusting things at my wife and child?"

A silence brewed, Mr Weasley unsure of what he should say that wouldn't result in many uncles punching.

"We'll get your things," George said, smiling as he passed the aunties and uncles.

"You're not taking her," Aadit uncle said, poking Mr Weasley's chest. "You have no right."

"I thought you would be glad," Ila said. She couldn't care less anymore about annoying her uncle and auntie anymore.

"With everything you've done, do you think I'll let you run away from it and not face the consequences?" he said, his voice getting louder with every word he spoke.

"Aadit!" her auntie whispered, fear in her eyes. "Get back! He's crazy. Let her take them."

"I will not stand down from this," her uncle said, puffing out his chest to regain that scraps of respect he has from the other guests. "This is a hate crime. Three white men walking in -"

"Oh, I forgot about all you," Mr Weasley said, nodding towards the large crowd of fearful people, cutting of Aadit uncle.

"We're not going to leave without doing something, are we?" Ila asked as the twins had finally arrived with all her stuff.

"No, no, Ila," Mr Weasley said. "I'll just have to call some people from the Ministry. You go on with the twins."

"Alright," she said, happy to finally leave the Varmas' once again. Just as she was about to enter the fireplace, Mr Weasley called her.

"Are you not going to say goodbye?" he asked. "Or, if I'm correct, behen ka loda?"

"WHAT!"

"Go, go, go!" Fred pushed her into the firepit before going into himself. The last thing Ila saw was Aadit uncle about to throw a punch at Mr Weasley.

She was going to kill the twins.