DAYS PASSED since the night Andy and Chip came back into the strange empty room in Aunt Carol's house through the chimney. If his memories served him right, minutes after ten in the evening of the 21st of July, he had accidentally transported himself to Emerraine while finding Chip.

But on the night of his return, as he scrambled up the stairs in a hurry not to be caught by Aunt Carol, the grandfather clock told him it was only half-past one in the morning. The untouched calendar tacked on the wall beside the stair indicated that it was already the 22nd of the same month, which meant that the three-and-a-half days spent in Emerraine were only three-and-a-half hours in his world. And what could be more surprising and utterly suspicious than not finding even a sliver of a shadow of Aunt Carol or any of her cats?

If only Andy had overlooked that picture frame at the abandoned house of the Crows—and there was a high chance it belonged to his family—he would bet anything just so his aunt wouldn't discover him out of bed. But given the circumstances, he would gladly get himself caught so he could confront her just the same.

But even as the sun rose and more hours passed, none of those questions managed to spill from his mouth. The truth was that Andy was afraid to find out he was fooled and that the reality his family made him believe was a lie. How naive he was when all the strangeness surrounding his aunt could be explained by her being a witch. And what about his dad? Did his mother know? How much more had they been keeping from him?

Now, it was two days after the eventful first night of his summer vacation, and Andy was to be seen in his Aunt Carol's back garden, sprinkling water over her precious marigolds and pansies.

The back garden was twice the size of the house but was extremely neat; the emerald-green grass was pristine and short. A large tree grew near the tidily-trimmed flower hedges, and on certain summer days, the leaves would blow gently across the ground. Roses grew in small plots on either side of the back door, and a small potted plant hung from a lantern by said entry.

A small wooden shed stood near the tree, right against the hedge, and was home to gardening supplies and large spiders. His aunt also owned a butterfly conservatory and a greenhouse at the back of the garden. And then beside it was a small lounging area—perfect for a morning breakfast—consisting of a circular glass table over a soft carpet of chamomile which, when stepped on, filled the air with fragrance. Sitting over there was Aunt Carol with her magazine and favorite black tea.

"Eyes on your work, dear nephew," Carol said without taking her eyes off the magazine. "Plants can drown too."

Andy peeled his eyes off his aunt and found the marigold's soil overflowing with excess water. He quickly shifted to the plant next to it and tilted the watering can begrudgingly. Even for a Sunday, the neighborhood seemed very quiet, allowing Andy to drown in his thoughts and throw his frustrations over his aunt. Not to mention that it became harder to pretend not to hear anything each day that passed.

Hey, I thought I saw someone use Carol's chimney portal with that filthy dog two days ago. Hmm, wait. What was his name? Andy?

Then there was an exaggerated gasp, a fake surprise to be exact, coming from another voice. Really?

Andy's grip around the can's tilt handle tightened as he moved to the next plant. He was purple in the face and straining, struggling not to say something aloud. Jinx and Fortune, two of Carol's cats—one a pure gray Persian and the other an ebony red Munchkin—had been watching Andy all day from the time he woke up, brushed his teeth, changed out of his pajamas, and even as he worked silently around the garden.

Andy, Andy, Andy, chimed Jinx as she rubbed herself against his legs. Why are you trying so hard pretending not to hear us? Do not be angry, but that babbling mutt couldn't control himself that he recounted your adventure to us from start to finish.

"What!" Andy whirled around so fast that he unintentionally kicked Jinx while Fortune tilted his head and blinked his gray eyes innocently.

The can slipped out of his hands, spilling the water on the already soaked ground. Carol looked up from her magazine with narrowed eyes. Then Andy quickly bent down to pick it up and shuffled over to the supply shed.

"Ah, Andy!" Carol called out to him, and then his brisk steps fell short. "Come here and sit down. I hope it wouldn't be a bother to join your aunt at least once over a cup of tea."

Andy teetered on the spot, throwing alternate glances between the safety and comfort of the shed and his aunt's heavy and unsettling presence. Finally, he opted for the safest option and was walking to the table in no time. Carol pulled a chair for him to be seated to her right within arm's reach.

"Uh, I don't quite like tea, Aunt Carol." He gingerly pushed a transparent glass containing a murky white liquid with swirls of golden caramel.

"Oh, no, no. You drink that one." She scooped up the warm glass and pressed it under his nose until Andy didn't have a choice but to take it. "It's not plain tea. I mixed it with milk and your favorite caramel sauce."

Andy inhaled the warm steam of the milk tea before taking a sip at the well-balanced and milky beverage. Then a single sip was followed by another until half of it was gone from the glass.

"So, how's Hearthstone so far?" said Carol as she took an elegant sip of black tea from her flower-embossed china. Upon hearing its name out of nowhere, Andy spluttered his drink all over his shirt and coughed. Carol flipped open her envelope clutch, drew out an eleven-inch stick made of wood, and gave it a light flick. A roll of tissue paper materialized in a pop, floating. It fell in a heap on the tea-stained table, and Carol grabbed it at once, tore a piece from it, and wiped the stickiness around his mouth and the smudges of pale brown on his white shirt. While doing so, Carol continued to drone on, ignoring his nephew's appalled and pallid face.

"It felt ages since I last set foot in my hometown. Of course, that's an exaggeration." She snorted as she rolled her eyes. "Anyway, thinking of Hearthstone brings back old memories of my childhood. I can say with confidence—are very much like him when Andrew was your age."

Andy attempted to open his mouth. Only he wasn't allowed to do so as Carol went on with her reminisce.

"I wonder if our favorite bake shop's still in business. Now that I think of it, I've been craving Old Maggie's sweet yellow tart. Oh! And Mrs. Shackleton's Hearthstone Ruby Apples. They're exquisite. I bet her children are now of old age. She should retire by now. You know, cozy up in her home, lounge beside a fireplace as she knit a sweater out of good— what's the matter, dear nephew?" she asked as soon as she saw how Andy's face, as red as a cherry, puffed as if threatening to explode.

"How do you know about it?"

"As I've said—"

"I mean," Andy cut her short, his thumbs twiddling. "How did you know that I've been to... to..." He gulped laboriously. He found that saying its name was harder than he imagined.

Carol's eyes shifted somewhere behind Andy. "I have eyes everywhere. Lots of them."

"Six pairs of them?"

He turned around to find a lone cat, slim and lengthy as if slapped by charcoal on the face, licking her paw as oblivious of the ongoing conversation.

A smile tore through her face. "Now, you're getting the hang of it. Are you not afraid? Spooked?"

Andy merely shrugged as he gazed past the bushes into their old neighbor having difficulty starting up his lawnmower.

"I've seen worse," he said with a slight tone of scorn and lingering hurt.

Not expecting this little hint of suppressed emotion from her nephew, Carol cleared her throat and looked away quickly. She hastily lifted the teacup to her lips—the dark brown liquid sloshing on the cup's wall and spilling to the brim—and chugged the entire content down.

"So..." Andy started, his eyes keen with interest as he looked up at his slightly flustered aunt. "Are you... Is dad..." He averted his gaze and bit his lip when he could not form a longstanding question.

"A witch and a wizard?"

Andy looked up to find his aunt beaming at him gently, so he eagerly nodded his head and braced himself from the truth that was about to come.

"Well, to start with, some choose to dwell amongst the Non-Holders for ideal blending and concealment— just a moment." Carol swished her wand once in opposite directions and tapped twice on the empty china with a loud chink. It refilled with the same dark brown liquid; a distinct nutty aroma rose and spread in the air. Satisfied, Carol looked at Andy, who waited patiently for her to finish.

"But why are you here? Don't you like it in Hearthstone?" he asked at once.

A scandalized look rippled on her face as she gasped. "No! I very much love it there. If asked, I wouldn't dare leave. But circumstances happened, and we are... asked to leave peacefully."

"Y-You were forced to leave?"

"Asked, Andy, not forced. By the village chief himself. And this happened ten years ago."

Andy choked on his saliva. "Ten years ago? Then the village chief you might be referring to must be someone with the-the surname Rainwater?"

Carol, who was leaning on the chair's back, straightened up. "You met him?"

"N-No, only his... daughter."

Andy sneaked a glance from the top of his glasses and saw Carol and Hocus exchanging skeptical looks behind his back.

"Oh! Maybe I should tell you more about my childhood. And it's high time your dad tells you about his own once your parents fetch you at the end of July. Wait here. I'll be back."

Her bright pink stiletto squished against the damp earth and wet, dewy grass. The hem of her white floral dress ruffled against the blow of the summer wind as she disappeared behind the back door leading towards the house's kitchen. Soon after, she came back holding a square leather-bound book with loose yellow-brown leaves. Carol slid her previously occupied chair right beside Andy, sat, and laid down the book between them. It was tattered in some places, its cotton filling popping out. Its edges were embossed with golden linings of leaves and patterned roses. On the top center sat a huge letter C, and below it was an old rusty lock that covered almost entirely the front cover space. However, Andy wondered about the purpose of the lock as there was no latch attached to it that would prevent anyone from taking a look at its contents. But as he pried it open and it wouldn't, Andy realized that the book was magically sealed.

"Now, now. That's not how you properly do it." Carol pried the book out of his grip and stuck the tip of her wand in the tiny hole of the lock. It emitted a faint click, and for a few seconds, Andy held his breath and waited for something to happen. Sure enough, the thing didn't disappoint him. The large letter C above the lock glowed a bright yellow, and the same happened with the intricate designs of golden leaves and patterned roses bordering the book's front cover. The book leaped out of his aunt's hands, giving a wild shudder. Andy slinked further on his seat while Aunt Carol laughed at his terrified expression.

"The family has long waited for their story to be told. They have been waiting for you, Andy."