The Key To the Solution

"Have you got everything?"

"Stop worrying, Dad, yes, I do have everything."

"The camera? Your mobile phone? The keys?"

"Yes, Dad, yes. And we're only going next door, we can always come back for something we've forgotten."

"Not the keys. If you forget the house keys, we won't be able to get back in."

"Well, I haven't forgotten them."

We had reached the neighbour's door, and rang the doorbell.

"Hello, hello," Mrs. Gulrajani greeted us, stepping aside to let us in.

We entered, and gaped.

The whole place was decorated with little oil lamps. They lined ever table, every nook in the wall, even the floor, at the edge of the room. The effect was mesmerising.

We had a lovely New Year's Eve dinner with the Gulrajanis -- Mr. Gulrajani and his son, Sunit, being particularly good cooks. They had made the biryani and curry themselves, and Dad and I was stuffed as we waddled back home, a little before midnight.

We got to our front door.

"What is it?"

"The keys."

"You told me you had them."

"I did have them, Dad, I promise."

"Then find them and let us get in. You must've put them in the other pocket."

Ten minutes later, we were heading back, our flashlight pointing at the ground, to see where I'd dropped the keys.

As we opened the neighbour's gate, we heard a strange sound coming from the barn.

"Hey, they're coming back."

It wasn't the sound of any Gulrajani member speaking. It was an odd, high-pitched sound.

"Naturally, the poor dears. They think they've lost the key."

"Her Dad is always nagging her about the key. I hear it each time they go out together."

"Oh, you think they had a good fight?"

"They haven't even gone in yet. We'd have heard a fight. No, it'll be saved for later."

"You guys are ah-ah-ah-alllll so mean. Stop baiting the poor humans!"

"Oh, it's just a joke for them to start the year with! They'll have a story to tell for the rest of 2019, now!"

I raised my eyebrows at Dad, turning the flashlight on to him. He was looking terrified.

"Is -- that -- the ..." he whispered.

"Yes," I whispered back. "The animals are talking. I think it's the dog, cat, pig, lamb, cow, horse, and chicken speaking."

We switched the flashlight off and tiptoed to the barn.

"Have they mooooved? Can you still see them?"

"Neigh, neigh, I can't!"

"Well, they'll have to go baaaaaack in to search for the keys, won't they?"

"What did you do with the keys, oinkyways?"

"Shrank them. Got the idea from Mr. Weasley, in the Harry Potter books."

"I still say you need to be more mewsiful to humans.'

Harry Potter.

I am the expert on Harry Potter. Suddenly, without even letting my Dad know, I ran to the barn door and threw it open.

"Mr. Weasley says witches and wizards who make Muggle keys shrink as a joke should be locked up in Azkaban," I announced to the shocked animals.

Silence.

Every eye was on me.

Then ...

"Neigh."

"What?" I asked. Dad had come around to the door and was standing behind me, still gaping.

"Neigh," the horse replied, stamping on the ground with his hoof. "Not Azkaban just for shrunk keys. It's only a fine."

"How do you know about Azkaban?" the pig asked me.

"You kidding? I bet you don't know who the Minister for Magic was before Cornelius Fudge."

"Fudge is the first maaaanister we know of," the lamb protested.

"Nope. We hear who was before him."

The animals went into a huddle. Dad and I stood, watching them, holding on to each other.

Then ...

"You've got us, human. We didn't realise you're a witch. Tell us the answer and we'll swell your key back to the right size. It's in your purse.'

I looked in my purse. Now that they had told me it was shrunk, I could just about see it.

"I'll tell you once my key is the right size."

Dad and I peered into the purse. The key grew, and grew, till it was the original size.

"Well?"

"It was Millicent Bagnold," I replied.

Dad and I blinked.

The animals, who had been standing around us, were now peacefully in their places in the barn, either lying down or standing, absolutely fast asleep.

We found ourselves being lifted into the air, and carried to our front door. I used the newly-grown key to let us in.

We crossed the threshold.

"That was a nice party," Dad said.

"Yep. They cook well. Great food. And the singing and joking was fun, too."

"Happy New Year!" we chorused, hugging each other.