Mr. and Mrs. Vance were downstairs, but Stacy didn’t feel the need to bring them over to watch Stacy perform the spell. Not like her parents would notice any activity upstairs, anyway, if the kids were quiet. It was kind of thrilling to keep it a secret as a four-person circle, without any parents around.

Rushing upstairs to the loft, Andrew shook Kyle awake.

“Ugh…what?” Kyle stirred in his bed.

“You gotta see something!” Andrew whispered to him.

With the audience of three gathered, the Vance siblings watched Emma gesture with her wand pointed towards the lamp. This time, they heard Emma say an incantation, which was different from Mr. Hill’s unspoken magic at the dinner table. Andrew was lightly surprised at this. He thought that all spell-casting was just a mental effort plus some wand-waving motion, but apparently, that wasn’t the case.

After the lamp landed safely on the dresser, Stacy clapped her hands in silent applause, keeping her voice barely above a whisper.

“Eek! You’re so amazing, Emma. —Okay, you can sleep now.” She nudged Kyle.

“Can that spell make you fly? Can I fly, too?” Kyle regained his energy, raising his voice excitedly.

“Shh!” Stacy hushed, shooing him away. “Tomorrow. Go back to bed.”

“Aww…” Kyle sulked as he plodded off.

After Kyle left the room, Andrew turned to Emma. “What were those words you said?” He asked, curious about the incantation that she used to perform the spell.


Hearing Emma’s warning about the platform, the word “crashing” didn’t make Andrew feel any less uneasy, but his fantasies were absorbed by what this pillar-thing implied.

“So, is it like a portal? Does it take you to another world? Like the wardrobe to Narnia?” The excitement in his voice grew. Was there a magical realm that existed on another plane of dimension? Beyond Earth? Like Star Wars, but with wizards and witches? Andrew didn’t want to give his hopes up, but the thought sounded cool.

As the night’s conversation wore on and a wave of tiredness gradually fell upon everyone, Andrew had one last question on his mind to ask Emma. This time, something more personal.

“How did you find out you were a wizard?—Er, witch, I mean.
Is it always a surprise?...like this?” Andrew gestured with his Hogwarts envelope in one hand. “…For everyone?”

Taking the flying toy car with him, Andrew left the room, turning off the lights in Stacy’s bedroom (per request), and closing the door behind him. It was pitch-black downstairs, except for a couple of nightlights. His parents must have gone to bed already. How long had he been up? Andrew didn’t bother to check the clock as he shuffled towards his bedroom, which was on the same floor, right beside Stacy’s room. He placed the toy car on top of his desk, not risking the possibility of him forgetting about it, should he stow it in a drawer somewhere. Not that he would even forget about it anyways, right? This wasn’t a dream…

Snuggling under his blankets, Andrew closed his eyes and gave way to darkness, releasing himself from the confusion and anxieties that tomorrow would bring.

Duchess would curl up in her cat bed, sleeping soundly in Stacy’s bedroom until it was her routine to start scratching at the door, at 4 am in the morning. Stacy would arouse and get up to let Duchess outside, into the backyard, and then return upstairs, being careful not to step on Emma as she hopped onto her bed, and fell asleep again.

» The next day «

Monday: April 2, 2018
7:30 am

A bright ray of sunshine poked through a slit in the curtains, blinding Andrew in the face as he cracked his eyelids open. That curtain was always problematic. He just couldn’t get it to close properly. But it was an alarm clock in itself for him to get up and out of bed. Andrew stood up and pulled back the curtains, basking in the warmth of sunrise. He had slept in a little more than usual, but all was forgiven during Easter break.

Then he spotted the blue toy car on his desk. Picking it up, he tossed it in the air, watching it sprout off and take flight around his room. An immense feeling of joy brought a welled up, teary-eyed smile to Andrew’s face, as the memories began flooding back. Everything from dinner, to the sleepover… And… something else. He knew he had a dream last night, after he went to bed. Probing deep within his mind, Andrew struggled to recall what it was.

Fragments of his dream came trickling forward, but lost in a wall of haze that was fading further from him by the second. Through his eyes, he could see a child’s hand – his own hand – holding what appeared to be a small glass ball, like a Christmas ornament…crystal clear inside… or was it red? And a little girl – her presence was somewhere next to him – though he couldn’t remember the face of what she looked like.

He wondered what could have possibly happened yesterday for him dream about something so random. Didn’t dreams reveal some inner truths, perhaps buried in one’s subconscious? On a conviction, Andrew decided to investigate. Still in his pajamas, he snuck out of his room, avoiding anyone’s detection as he proceeded downstairs to the ground floor. Rounding the corner of a small hallway, he opened another interior door and flicked on the lights, warily closing the door behind him, and plunged down another flight of stairs that led into the Vances’ basement.

Christmas ornaments. There was only one place they could be, when they weren’t in season. Several storage bins of various sizes, shapes, and colors were stacked against one wall of the square-shaped room. Two of the largest ones were a solid pine green, identifiable by the word CHRISTMAS labeled with black marker on the side of the containers. Arranging the bins and restacking them like a game of Tetris, Andrew managed to free the two large green ones from the bottom of the stack, and knelt over them. Prying the lid off the first container, he peered inside. Christmas stockings, nutcrackers, and mistletoe. House decorations, wrong one. Andrew replaced the lid and opened the second bin. This one had all the Christmas ornaments.

Digging through the treasure trove of ornament boxes, uncovering the lids of any that didn’t display their contents from the outside, Andrew unearthed the boxes in a pile on the floor, emptying the bin layer by layer until he reached the bottom. Reaching for a small kraft box, the size that would fit only a single ornament, Andrew opened the flap of the lid, and froze, taken aback by what he saw inside, and recognizing it immediately. It was the small glass ball from his dream, with a band of gold around it that marked the orb unmistakably. How long had it been in there? Somewhere in his distant memory, the object seemed familiar, but he just couldn’t place his finger on where it had come from or how it got here. Reaching for the glass orb, Andrew held it in his hands, and when the orb turned red, he wasn’t completely surprised. All the more, it confirmed that this was the object from his dream last night.


Things clicked together in Andrew’s mind as he studied the orb and its reaction. Magic. It had to be. Emma would know. Conveniently, she was around. What better person to ask than her?


Today was the day! Sitting up in bed, Stacy stretched her arms and yawned. She was naturally an early riser, and anticipating today’s trip to Diagon Alley, she couldn’t contain herself in bed any longer. Turning to Emma (prodding her friend awake, if she had to), she leaned over and said, “Ready for breakfast?”

Emerging from the bedroom in her pajamas, Stacy went downstairs, arriving in an empty kitchen, where she opened up the fridge and stared at the wide selection of choices, contemplating a breakfast plan.

“I’m thinking we can do…eggs,” Stacy proposed, open to any other preferences or suggestions from Emma. “Do you want an omelet? We can make omelets for everyone. What do you like in yours? We like to do onions, tomatoes, broccoli, mushrooms, olives, and cheese. We can make toast with that, too. Oh, and fruit too! And hot chocolate.”

After washing her hands in the kitchen sink, the thirteen-year old began assembling cooking utensils and ingredients. A couple of pans on the stove, a stack of bowls and a few cutting boards spread out on the counter. A can of olives from the cupboard, onions from the pantry cart. Cheese, mushrooms, broccoli, tomatoes, and eggs from the fridge…

“We also have milk and cereal, oats for oatmeal, pancake mix, chicken noodle soup… Whatever you’d like. We can make everything!” Stacy said cheerily.

Recalling Emma’s comment from last night about how she needed to learn how to cook something, Stacy was willing to let Emma assist her in preparing breakfast and give her a “beginners” lesson in Omelet-Making 101. Most of the time consisted of chopping up vegetables and cooking them lightly before removing them from the pan. After whipping up the egg mixture and dumping that onto the pan, the vegetables would be added on top, and the omelet folded in half as it slid onto the plate. Simple, obviously.

Kyle wandered into the kitchen, also in his pajamas, and sniffing the pan-sizzling aromas that wafted a trail to his bedroom. “What’re you making?”

“Omelets,” Stacy chirped to her brother. “You wanna watch?”

Not long after, Mrs. Vance would waltz into the kitchen with a warm smile on her face, already dressed and her hair fixed up for a day on the town. “Good morning, darlings. Oh, it smells so good.” She gave all of the children a side hug with a gentle squeeze. “How did you all sleep?”

“Not bad.” Stacy grinned with a knowing gleam in her eye.

“I’m ready for magic!” Kyle piped up.

“Where’s Andy?” Mrs. Vance asked, sweeping a glance around the house.

“Still sleeping,” Stacy said, betting instinctively.

Mrs. Vance turned to Emma. “I put your clothes in Stacy’s room. They’re all clean and ready to go.”

While Mrs. Vance started to slice up strawberries and oranges for the fruit arrangement, Mr. Vance went over to the backyard door and let the meowling cats inside. Next to the fireplace, he fed Duchess and Princess their can of wet food, before walking into the kitchen. Though he said a pleasant “good morning” to the three children, the weary bags under his eyes indicated that he hadn’t gotten much sleep at all.

Refilling his water bottle at the faucet, Mr. Vance stood beside his wife as she rinsed and prepared the fruit. As much as the couple lowered their voices, parts of their conversation could still be heard, if one wanted to eavesdrop. Overall, it was Mr. Vance who expressed concern about having to explain the wizard news to the rest of his relatives, if Andrew was sent away to Hogwarts. Inevitably, everyone would ask questions about the unusual circumstances as to why Andrew had been sent away to another country for schooling. Those relatives closest to Andrew would be particularly nosy and possibly frightened for his welfare, if they suspected Andrew’s family to be hiding something from them. It would be impossible for them to keep the secret without spilling it to a few other relatives, hopefully to contain it within a small family circle. It stressed Michael greatly to think about how the rest of the relatives would take the news. If they didn’t…

“Don’t worry, you think too much,” Carroll chided lightly.

Michael rubbed his tired eyes in frustration. “What about Mom and Dad? Baylor? Cynthia? If Andy doesn’t show up for Dad’s 60th in November, they’re going to be asking why. Lots of why.”

“He’s not going anywhere yet,” Carroll assured him, moving onto the brighter topic of Diagon Alley. “We’re just going to see what this place is about. No decision, nothing final. Just pure day-trip.”

In the middle of breakfast being prepared, Andrew strode into the kitchen, where the Vances were gathered.

“I think this is magic, but I don’t know what it is,” Andrew blurted rapidly, not even pausing to say “good morning” first, as the rest of his family turned their attention to him. Andrew held out the glass ball, which had turned (and still was) a vivid red in his hand, and extended it to Emma for her to look at. Upon examining the gold band around the orb, a line of engraved letters would spell out the word Aurelia B.

“Oh, isn’t that the little toy that was lost?” Mrs. Vance had a much sharper recollection, as her eyes landed on the object. “You brought it home from school, wasn’t it …first grade, I think?”

Andrew shrugged bewilderedly at his family. “I don’t remember. Found it in the Christmas box.”

Emma had never performed the charm on an actual person, though she was curious to see the effects it caused and if she could use it in the future for a practical prank on one of her friends. She doubted she was strong enough and putting Kyle's life into jeopardy was something she didn't want to attempt. It would only diminish her, well, Andrew's chances of traveling to Hogwarts for the school year. Before she could refuse his request, his sister spoke up and she let out a hushed exhalation of relief.

"Wing-" The brunette put her wand back down on the floor to assure no magic issued from it. "Wingardium Leviosa, its the pronunciation of the spell. Technically it's called the Levitation Charm, but you can learn it at Hogwarts. There are a lot of spells with weird names, but don't worry you'll get used to it," she chuckled.

At his subsequent question, she shrugged and let out a muffled 'I don't know'. Portal or not, she didn't want to provide him with unreliable knowledge. Answering the first question was hard, but the second required no effort. "Nope, still the same country and world. The train does take you all the way to Scotland, though."

Letting out another yawn, she launched the toy automobile recklessly with her left hand, allowing the car to shift into autopilot by itself. Her eyes did widen slightly as if someone beckoned her by the time he had finished his question. She shook her head, bypassing numerous aspects of the question. It wasn't hard to overthink the simplest questions. There was a lot on the line for not just Andrew, but even herself.

"Well... I've grown up around magic my entire life, so it wasn't really much of a surprise. It's mainly just a surprise for Muggleborns. I'm a half-blood: half magic and half normal." She responded immediately, in a hurry to finish and abandon the question. 

As the veil of fatigue descended on to the bunch, Emma decided to call it a night. "I'm heading off to bed, good night." She motioned goodbye to Andrew and escorted herself to the lights, turning them off and extracting the hidden bed from the couch.

» Midnight «

It was ironic how Emma could yawn and rub her eyes as much as she wanted to. Falling asleep was the nightmare she had before sleeping. Forcing her movement to stop, she gazed into the darkness that was the ceiling. Lying down on her back, Emma closed her eyes and allowed her breathing to stall, though with persistence. Before she knew it, she was on the Hogwarts Express watching her figure look out the train's windows. It seemed to go on forever, why couldn't the train simply leave? Everyone had gotten on the train, at least she assumed, and no one was left except the several concerned parents that were talking amongst each other with troubled expressions. Her mother and father had already left, for they were nowhere to be found.

Letting out a boisterous whistle, the gleaming red train began to speed up and she watched the lingering parents wave goodbye once more. Emma herself also saw her figure wave goodbye. To who? She didn't know. Faster and faster the train went until the trees passed in green blurs. This was not like her first year, but at least the train ride wouldn't take as long.

Like an ascending rollercoaster, the train's altitude raised and her figure began to mash away at the window, no signs of breakage shown. Of course not, it was witchcraft after all. Confounded by curiously, her doppelganger stood though immediately being pushed back due to the force of speed wasn't something she had planned. She wasn't worried about it, but her look-alike couldn't say the same thing. Though at every turn, nausea made her gag somewhat. The train was out of control, but that was impossible. Was magic even reliable after all, or was it just her imagination modifying her reasoning? 

The train chugged on and on, passing buildings and suspecting Muggles that generated speckles of apprehension to develop. All was well until she was shook to existence. It was spring break, why did she have to wake up? Gradually, her consciousness began to return and her dreams began to dissolve away. The brunette's eyes fluttered open to an unusual bed and a familiar person. It didn't take her long to remember her location. "Fine..."

Emma flung herself out of bed, literally, and hit the ground with a thud. That was guaranteed to rouse her, and indeed, a few minutes of life emerged from her. She stood up and massaged her arm that had turned a rosy hue of pink due to the collision. Wandering over to her clothes left by Mrs. Vance, she let out a sigh and turned back to grab her wand on the opposite side of the couch. It was hard to imagine attending breakfast in anything other than her own pajamas, especially a skirt. Opening the door, she began to head down the stairs along with Stacy, trying her best not to slip down the stairs in her socks. Yes, she was that kind of person to wear socks to bed.

Making her self at home, she sat at the dining table and observed Stacy in the kitchen, placing her wand down on the living room sectional. Breakfast wasn't going to be about magic, especially with the Vances. "I want tomatoes, onions, mushrooms, olives, and lots of cheese. I've never had hot chocolate for breakfast, but why not?" The eleven-year-old made her way into the kitchen and began to cut up mushrooms and onions rather slowly. According to the cookery films she watched with her cousin, Kiyana, her rate of speed made her look absurd, but that's precisely what she was. Well, in terms of cooking at least. After watching her crack the eggs and add them to the pan, Emma combined the chopped up vegetables with a smile, though some of them did fall to the floor.

"Thanks," she replied to Mrs. Vance, receiving her hug. She wasn't in any rush to put them on, Stacy's pajamas were much more comfortable than the formal clothing she'd worn on the way to their house.

The Ravenclaw listened closely to Mr. Vance from the kitchen as he spoke, it was a natural gift she had. Questions. That was the keyword along with several names she didn't recognize, but as far as she knew, it was nothing to be worried about. As far as her mother's companions (formerly including the Vances) knew was that Emma was attending a boarding schoolhouse stationed in Scotland for the year, and the rest was made up as the three went along.

With the vegetables, fruit chopped and Stacy preparing the omelets, she poured herself a glass of orange juice and set it down on the table, making sure to take a sip of it before returning to the kitchen. Good thing, she hadn't brushed her teeth first. She learned from experience that mint and oranges didn't blend well, but not even background was preventing her from continuously making the same mistake. She shuffled back into the kitchen to grab a few plates for the table. Placing them one by one, she started by giving a plate to herself and then went around the table, placing five more with a soft clink. Before she could step foot into the kitchen, she was hindered by the word magic.

"First grade? That was four years ago..." Emma turned in his direction, looking at the object in his hand instead of his eyes. Instantly, she recognized the object, a remembrall. Still, before she verbalized her thoughts, she glanced up at him before examining the object in her hands before telling him her discovery. 

Her eyes narrowed slightly at the name scrawled on the rim, and flashbacks of her first year began to resurface. The fights, the blood, and the words. This wasn't a typo, nor the work of inadequate craftsmanship. With the temptation to smash it into a thousand pieces, she took the opportunity to look at it once more, discovering something to divert her thoughts. She hadn't produced many encounters with the Gryffindor student, but one was enough to settle her concluding judgment upon her. "How'd you get this?" She asked questioningly with her eyes still narrowed a bit, hiding the concern in her tone as her eyes met his. "You're right, it's definitely magic. You need to remember how you got that, it's the only way the red will disappear unless you've forgotten something else."

Evidently, breakfast was going to be about magic.

“I don’t know.” Andrew could only shrug blankly at Emma’s question. First grade seemed so long ago. He had moved on since then, and didn’t often think about the past, regarding school. His focus was on fifth grade now. Everything that had happened four years ago felt like one big blur to him. A few things, come to think about it, he could recall from first grade… Like the first time he was ever sent to the principal’s office for playing a game of scissor tag in his classroom, which scarred him mentally. And when a girl named Jenny nearly ripped her ear open while playing on the monkey bars, when she got her hair tangled up in her loop earring. Nothing stood out to him about a crystal ball though...

“School girl, wasn’t it?” Mrs. Vance tilted her head curiously, towards Andrew. “You said the ball belonged to one of the girls there that went to your school. You were going to give it back, but the girl left and moved away. Guess we’ve been keeping it this whole time.”

“I did?” It was breaking news to Andrew, who had forgotten all about the events. Relying on his mother’s information, Andrew glanced at the gold band again. Aurelia. That sounded right to him, like a name he had heard before. He couldn't think of an exact face to match with it, though he automatically pictured a girl having brown hair and blue eyes... But what did the “B” mean? Was it a middle name? Last name?

“What is it? Why’s it red? It wasn’t red before.” Andrew turned to Emma, wondering what the crystal orb was. While Stacy and Kyle marveled at the object, Mr. Vance eyed it warily, looking slightly uncomfortable at the thought of a magical object that had been hidden in his house for all this time. What a coincidence, especially after last night’s dinner conversation, which Mr. Vance still hadn’t fully recovered from. The topic of magic was cumbersome on his mind, but he could try to ignore it and not "think too much" about it, as his wife said.

“Maybe better pass it on to Emma, don’t you think?” Mr. Vance exchanged glances between Andrew and Emma. “It’s magic. I don’t think we’re going to need it,” he said uncertainly, half-hoping to relieve his family of the object and have Emma take it off their hands. Thus far, the Vances were still a “normal” family. Andrew wasn’t a wizard yet. Keeping a magical object around wouldn’t make much sense, in Mr. Vance’s point of view. The Hills would likely find better use for it.

After breakfast, Andrew and his siblings would head upstairs to get themselves dressed for the day, in preparation for Mr. and Mrs. Hill’s arrival…

Four years ago hurled her mind into a panic, she had only known Aurelia for a few months, but that was long enough to know that she was bad news. If he had already had one magical encounter what were the chances that he had already come into association with other magical sources. Well, discluding herself, of course. No matter how much pressure she placed on to him, she didn't expect him to remember something that happened four years ago. Nor was she presuming a detailed response. She couldn't even remember her journey to Diagon Alley, although discovering her wand was a bit entertaining. Book shopping was simply just accumulating a bunch of books newer than the ones in her grandfather's room that was pretty much a diminutive library. 

"Ba-zoo.. denhow? I dunno how to pronounce it, but it's her last name. I'd stay away from her if I were you." Emma said, her words put together as she tried to finish her words as immediately as she could. Andrew was Muggleborn after all. Not all Pure-Bloods were snarky and arrogant, but she just happened to be one of them, especially with a feather that had the capability of writing a thousand words.

"Do you remember what she looked like, who you were with? Doesn't matter - wait. Did you forget to brush your teeth?" She added, putting a large emphasis on the last question as she raised her eyebrows. I surely didn't.

Emma enthusiastically shook her head when Mr. Vance began to spoke. She didn't want that object anywhere near her, and the display of it made her want to disregard all magic and continue on with a normal breakfast. Wasn't dinner deemed the dramatic part of the day, she couldn't recall hearing about breakfast. Besides, she was partly asleep, and if it weren't for the sight of the magical object, she would have gone straight back to bed to fall asleep a bit before her parents showed up. She hadn't eaten breakfast yet, but who could say no to ice cream for breakfast?

"It's alright, really. It could be useful. You know, like if you forgot something, it won't tell you what you forgot just that you forgot something. That makes sense, right?" The brunette added to make sure that he was still on board. "If you give it to me, it's going to go to charity.. or in the trash."

She took a seat at the table and began to chow down on her omelet, dividing it into tiny bites before beginning to eat. It was more of a habit than a preference. One thing was for certain if magic couldn't be settled upon, Stacy was an astonishing chef. Taking a sip of her orange juice, she glanced down at her plate to redirect her wandering eyes from the Vances. After breakfast had concluded, she followed Stacy up the stairs and back into her room to get dressed, putting on the uncomfortable skirt and blouse once more. She couldn't even sit down without feeling the urge to readjust her position. This was going to be a long day, literally and metaphorically. 

There was a small knock at the door by the time Emma had made her way back downstairs to steal some of the leftover fruit. She didn't look, instead, she took a deep breath and began to fill her mouth with mangoes and strawberries. In five.. four.. three.. two... The door gently swung open to reveal her mother and mother, though her mother looked fairly annoyed. Despite the lock on the door, the two still found a way to get in. Her father was remarkably negligent. With a small wave, they both stepped in and shut the door behind them. Walking over to the table, they didn't sit down yet. Instead, they stood up, smiling at each of them. "Everybody ready?" Mr. Hill asked the bunch, sliding his wand down into his pocket with a sly smirk.

“Why?” Andrew raised a perplexed eyebrow at Emma’s warning. “Do you know her?” From the sound of it, there seemed to be an underlying tension between Emma’s words of caution. Being the peaceful, optimistic fellow that he was, having never found reason or circumstance to gain an enemy before in his life, Andrew wondered what could be “so bad” that would prompt Emma to try and steer him away from — whoever this “Aurelia” person was. He could sense that there was something more that Emma wasn’t telling him, and decided to poke around a bit, as innocently as he could.

“Why don’t you just give it to her?” Andrew held out the Remembrall at Emma for emphasis. If Emma knew who Aurelia was, then why couldn’t Emma return the Remembrall to Aurelia herself? It seemed like Emma had more resources and capability to do so than him, at the moment. And if Emma refused, then Andrew was curious to find out the reason why she would decline.

He didn’t have much of a chance to respond to Emma’s question – not that he remembered what Aurelia looked like, anyways. Andrew’s face pulled a quizzical expression when Emma quickly switched subjects. “Uh…no? We’re having breakfast now, anyways.” Unless if there was going to be an extended period of time before the first meal of the day, Andrew usually brushed his teeth after breakfast. Why brush before if he was going to eat soon anyways?

Honestly, the magical purpose of the crystal orb didn’t make any reasonable sense to Andrew at all. “But how can you remember if you can’t remember what you’ve forgotten?” He asked Emma. It sounded pretty useless, if the orb couldn’t at least reveal a hint of what a person had forgotten. Might as well use paper and pen instead. At least the old-fashioned way worked at remembering some things.

In the end, it looked like Andrew would be stuck with the orb, anyways. Emma didn’t want it, and Andrew wasn’t going to let a perfectly good (yet useless, in his opinion) magical artifact go to waste. But it didn’t seem right for him to keep it; it had an owner after all. The polite thing he figured he could do would be to return it to Aurelia, if it he could.

Since the Hills hadn’t rung the doorbell, none of the Vances would be around to hear the small knock at the door. All five of them were upstairs, getting themselves ready for the Hills’ arrival. Andrew would so happen to be the first of them to meander downstairs, intending to lounge around in the living area, when he paused, as soon as he saw Mr. and Mrs. Hill already waiting inside the house. It surprised him – had it been anybody else, it would have warranted alarm and suspicion – but Andrew easily assumed that Emma had been the one to open the door for her parents, since she was downstairs before him.

“Hey, how’d you get in?” Andrew raised casually, nonetheless glad to see the couple as he greeted them and then called upstairs to the rest of his family, letting them know that Mr. and Mrs. Hill were there. Shortly afterward, the Vances would assemble downstairs, gather their bags and purses, and prepare to leave.

“Well, let’s mosey on out of here. After you,” Mr. Vance beckoned the Hills, opening the front door for them. From there, the Vances would pile into their dark blue minivan that sat on the driveway, expecting they would follow the Hills to Diagon Alley by car.

"...No," Emma lied, but there no need to. It was an apparent lie even before it left her mouth. Of course, she knew Aurelia, ever since her first year the two had never gotten along. She was reluctant to endorse Andrew in her personal drama at Hogwarts that seemed to never end. "Maybe," she muttered under her breath, picking at her nails as she failed to answer Andrew's eyes. Stubbornly refusing to continue, or give him the response that he wanted, she glanced up at the stairs, placing her hands behind her back. Before she had the opportunity to storm up the stairs to retrieve her shoes, she turned to face Andrew. Hopefully, this time the question pertained to the use of magic or even the Remembrall, but the probabilities were slim.

"Even if I did know her - which I'm not saying is true - the school's too big," she complained. It was the only thing that came into her mind without the opportunity to imagine a plausible statement. Even then, nothing seemed to come to mind; it was a bit frustrating for her. "She is always in the Potions classroom, though." The facility wasn't even an office, she assumed at least. It was more like a conference room where the headmaster explained, conversed, and possibly even rested. 

Quite grateful for the change in scenery, she nodded and selected the seat closest to her. She took her fork in her dominant hand and put her elbow on the table, ensuring her eyes didn't stray off into different directions like the ceiling or the ground. For the most part of breakfast, she was silent at the table, allowing a few chuckles to slip out as she scrapped her plate of food. Breakfast was exceptional, but that was understandable; Stacy had prepared it herself with the cooperation of her mother. Somehow, breakfast immediately bested dessert she had eaten last night, but only Stacy could pull off the trick. 

"You just kinda have to guess. When you get it right the smoke disappears.. have fun!" She snickered sarcastically, taking a glimpse at the Remembrall again. 

As breakfast concluded, and the Vances filed out and Emma was directly behind them. It didn't take long for her to change. After grabbing her apparel and walking into the bathroom, she dressed herself, looked in the mirror, shook her head of frizz, and came down the stairs once more with nothing to do but roam until the time came to leave. Sauntering around the house, she twisted her wand between her fingers, orange sparks threatening to emerge. She marched into the kitchen to grab a piece of fruit and then around the sofa, rapping its corners carefully with the end of her wand. Could you blame her, there was no one to talk to. She flipped throughout the house, cartwheeling from one side of the house to another. She was remarkably careful not to knock anything down. Even if she could repair objects with a simple spell, she didn't want to take the possibility of producing another commotion in the house; this time it would actually be her fault. By the time she heard the knock, however, she had already found herself near the door, sitting on the floor. It was laziness that prevented her from opening the door, perhaps it was the cartwheels that made her tired. Rolling her eyes, she greeted her parents. "You're going to get arrested one day. Hi, mamá."

The brunette suddenly stood when she heard footsteps progressing, but to no surprise, she wasn't the fastest. Though she didn't mind being found on the floor, it was an unusual appearance and she didn't want to be labeled weird.

"The door was unlocked." He stated with almost the mindset as Emma herself. And with that, the three poured out the house and got into her mother's car. Before she had the chance to lie down, she looked out the window and smiled slightly. There was only one chance and the odds were in her favor, but it could have easily been her bias opinion. With the same smile, she lied down in the seats and looked up at the roof of the car. It was nowhere near the pull-out bed in Stacy's room in terms of comfortability. The buckles scratched as her skin and sleeping on the ground seemed much better than in the seats.

"Are you ready?" Her mother asked from the front of the vehicle, looking back at her. "I hope."

It bugged him how Emma was being evasive, not directly answering his question as to whether or not she knew Aurelia. But if she didn’t want to talk about it, then Andrew wasn’t going to press the issue any further (more like he didn’t want to risk getting on Emma’s “bad” side, if bringing the Aurelia topic would only annoy her). But if Emma wasn’t going to hand the crystal orb to Aurelia, then Andrew would do it himself. Not that he knew how in the world he would possibly deliver it to Aurelia, at the moment. But once (that is, if – and “if” wasn’t even being considered yet) he reached Hogwarts, Andrew figured he would find answers and connect the puzzle pieces together, eventually. But that wasn’t his main focus of concern, right now…

Upstairs in his bedroom, Andrew laid the Remembrall inside the little brown kraft box that he had originally found it in, and placed it on his desk, beside the other little box which contained his flying toy car. Since he feared losing or forgetting about these two magical objects, he wasn’t about to stuff them into a drawer anytime soon. As soon as his fingers disconnected from the crystal orb, the red smoke evaporated, and the ball became clear once again. Recalling Emma’s words, Andrew tugged a corner of his mouth into a contemplative smirk. What could be so important that he had “forgotten”? Nothing came to memory. There were so many things he reckoned he subconsciously forgot about all the time – like, losing his train of thought whenever he walked into a room, forgetting about why he had even entered the room in the first place. Of course, if the Remembrall could only speak and tell him exactly what he had forgotten, it would save so much more time and effort, but nooo… magic just had to be unnecessarily complicated, now, did it?

He would have plenty of time to continue his guessing game with the Remembrall, later. With an eager outlook on what he anticipated was to come, Andrew piled into the Vances’ minivan. Following the Hills’ car, the two families drove into London City. For Andrew, who wasn't yet entirely convinced about the whole him-being-a-wizard idea… Diagon Alley awaited.