She sat staring out through the window. Snow had blanketed the entire grass behind her apartment just that morning before melting into a slushy mess. The cold New England weather was no match for the blazing sun that had poked its fingers out the grey clouds for the first time this month. The pond behind her building was a mess, filled with large chunks of ice floating in lonely islands and surrounded by the brown water that raised its head every so often when a breeze blew by. Even the animals noticed the difference. Several geese had flown on the islands and rested there, preening their feathers and opening their beaks, drinking in the warmth of winter before it faded into a dull darkness. The muskrat that only poked its head out at the first signs of spring was scavenging through the cattails, trekking mud in its wake.

Laila watched all of this, seeing but not processing. The Kite Runner remained open on her lap, flipped to the last page as she absorbed the information about a country that had changed so much in such a short amount of time. Her light blue eyes were a sharp contrast against her olive skin. Many times, people had questioned her on her authenticity as a "true Indian-American," only for her to explain that blue eyes were not that uncommon among South Asians.

In her short twenty three years of life, Laila had grown up with her parents always making sure she and her older sisters never forgot their heritage. Trips to India were a must each summer, from walking through the streets of Mumbai for food to visiting the farmlands of Punjab. Her father had one simple rule: when you take off your shoes in the house, you take your English off with you. Laila smiled fondly, remembering her annoyance at having to switch between Punjabi, Hindi, and Urdu when speaking with her parents. Couple that with the fact her father was a linguistics professor and made sure his daughters appreciated the languages and cultures of other countries. Her oldest sister Jacqueline had picked up on Russian and moved to St. Petersburg to pursue her career in medicine and help the underserved in the urban neighborhoods. Her next older sister Aziza had fallen in love with medicine, just her luck, and moved to the rural Midwest to set up practice in a small town where there was only one family medicine physician close to retirement. Granted, that tiny community was surprised when a young Indian-American woman showed up at their doorstep, but grew to accept her enthusiasm and a genuine desire to serve the community as a sign of sincere dedication.

So when Laila came along and got her letter from Ilvermorny, her entire Muggle family was surprised, but pleased to discover an entirely new world existing not far from their own. Ilvermorny was the first place she felt she belonged, taking joy in favorite classes, including Ancient Runes and History of Magic, and learning to tolerate Astronomy and Divinations. The stars were just balls of gas in her eyes, and the concept of being able to predict the future based on tea leaf patterns was too ridiculous in her mind. Inferences were educated guesses that had to be rooted in hard facts and evidence, not wishy washy dream journals and predictions. It came as a surprise to no one in her family when she chose Law as her final career, choosing to attend Harvard and getting her JD at the young age of 17 as she finished her years in Ilvermorny. No one said it would be easy, but it was a distraction from her mother's untimely death and grounded her. Her mother came from a long line of family members who served and died fighting for Indian independence. In her mother's and grandmother's eyes, nothing came before their country, not even themselves. Laila took that mantra to heart, choosing to become a prosecutor and train as an Auror to serve her country and her people. The magical world enveloped her, and she fought to prove herself as a worthy witch in a world where blood status was considered more important. The Wizarding War had her terrified for her family; hiding was not an option. She had fought and risen above it, but not without scars, some seen others not. Laila's hand rested tentatively over her abdomen where a large scar rested, and she shuddered at the memory of its origin.

"Ready to leave, honey?" The voice jerked Laila out of her thoughts as her father's face came into her view.

"That can be answered in many ways, Baba," Laila smiled, "but considering I'm an employee of MACUSA, I can't just ignore the law and not follow through with it."

"You could always approach the Pope for a petition, we are Catholics after all," her father said, his eyes twinkling.

"Oh that will go well-did you know there is a world out there filled with magic and witches, and drowning us or burning us at the stake won't eradicate it?-Sheesh."

Her eyes glanced over to the letter resting on her dresser

Dear Laila Vikander,

The devastations caused by the Second Wizarding War have greatly impacted both the population of our community and our approach to wizards and witches of different blood statuses. To better integrate these differences, the Ministry of Magic and the Magical Congress of the United States of America have decided to enact a Marriage Law to integrate and preserve our community. With your Muggleborn status, you have been matched to a wizard of Pureblood status in the hopes your offspring will bring a brighter future to our world.

You have been assigned to:

Mr. Fred Weasley

Please contact him at your earliest convenience to determine your living arrangements. Your marriage will be scheduled at the end of this year, December 31, 2000. Best wishes for a brighter future.

With Regards,

Kingsley Shacklebolt

Minister of Magic

Amused, Laila's father glanced at his youngest daughter. "You're almost five months older than your husband-to-be. And born on Friday, November 13. Let's hope his luck is better than mine has been."

"Funny, Dad," Laila replied drily, with a touch of sadness underneath her sarcastic bite. Fred had been kind in the few letters they had exchanged, but with just three weeks left for them to get married and only six weeks since the official letter had arrived, it was barely enough time to get to know someone, let alone get married to them! In their discussions, Laila had decided to shift to England, knowing her fiance owned a joke shop of some sorts in the famous Diagon Alley. The Minister of Magic had been more than happy to hire her as a prosecutor, elated her almost 94% conviction rate. But it wasn't the transfer that bothered her much as leaving her country of birth to travel to a completely new place. For the first time, she felt the pain and excitement her parents must have felt when they left India to settle in America for hopes of a better future and life for themselves and their children.

Sensing her mood, her father placed a hand on his head. "I forget sometimes how much like your mother you are, calm on the surface, but hiding so much underneath. She always used to say she hoped you would find someone to keep you grounded and someone that would be able to see you beyond the lawyer thirsty for justice. She would be so proud of you and how far you've come. And if he doesn't treat you right, remember a phone call across the pond is much faster than any magical owl you have."

Bursting into laughter, Laila hugged her dad, savoring the last few hours she would have with them. In the morning, she would be taking a portkey to her new London flat and visiting the famous Weasleys Wizard Wheezes.

I wonder if he feels as apprehensive as I am right now.