A shiny black limo parked in front of Hazel's place. Her father saw it from the shattered window and glared at the vehicle. Hazel slid down the banister of the rotted-wood staircase and joined her father at the window. Hazel looked at the limo in disgust as well as fascination. Why would a fancy vehicle such as a limo be outside of their house?

The limo driver got out of the driver's seat, wearing a clean, fancy suit and knocked on the rotting wooden door. Hazel's father opened the door and said, "Go away," which was the usual greeting on the Isle of the Lost. The limo driver showed a letter from King Ben Florian of Auradon to her father, and Hazel read it over his shoulder. "What?" Hazel heard her father hiss in anger. Hazel had a shocked expression on her face.

"My daughter is not going to that horrendous place!" her father shouted at the driver, who looked unfazed. It was clear that he had faced plenty of reactions like this before. Hazel couldn't comprehend the situation in her mind just yet. Why would she be invited to Auradon? Who would ask her to be in Auradon?

Her father shut the door after telling the driver that the father and daughter needed a few moments alone. Walking up the stairs carefully, Hazel's father led Hazel into his study. There was a rotting wooden oak desk with a ripped-up leather office chair and old, dusty portraits of her father on the torn-up walls. Hazel remained standing as her father sat down behind the desk. "I believe we can use this event as an opportunity to escape from this wretched island," her father said, lightly smirking as if he had a plan.

"You want me to steal Fairy Godmother's magical wand," guessed Hazel. The magic wand was one of the most powerful magical items in all of Auradon. Seeing as how the wand created the magical barrier in the first place, the villains wanted to steal the wand so that they could escape from the Isle and take over Auradon. Her father nodded. "Do you want me to do it at the coronation of King Ben and Queen Mal's daughter? Or do you want me to steal it from the Museum of Cultural History?" Hazel asked, making mental notes in her mind about the plan.

"The coronation seems to be your best bet," her father informed her. Hazel nodded. He held her hand. "Make us all proud," he whispered as Hazel nodded. She rushed to her bedroom to pack up quickly.

Her room had torn-up scarlet red walls, rotting wooden oak flooring, and bare royal blue carpets. Her bedstand was sagging from the weight of the dusty blankets on the mattress, and the canopy above the bed threatened to fall. Her dresser was old and cracked, but it remained standing for twenty years. Hazel looked around, feeling a bit homesick. Even though she hadn't left yet, she felt like she would never see her home - her real home - ever again.

She packed up and slid down the banister. Heading outside, the limo driver placed her bag into the trunk and slammed the trunk door shut. Hazel waved to her father, who signaled back. As the driver drove out of the streets of the Isle of the Lost, Hazel went over the plan in her mind. She planned every little detail, making sure to be very careful and very sneaky about how she planned to steal the wand.