There were a lot of mysteries in Casa Madrigal.

Like, why were there next to no childhood photos of Mama and Tía Pepa? Surely Abuela would have taken plenty of pictures of her pride and joy daughters, other than the few pristine portraits on the walls, right? Papà and Tío Félix had plenty of baby pictures, so it clearly wasn't a generational thing. But whenever Mirabel asked, her mother would just shrug and say that Abuela hadn't had time to take too many pictures while she was busy taking care of the Encanto.

Or, why did they often hear rumblings within the hallways? Tío Félix had told her that sometimes Casita got hungry and its stomach was rumbling, but as Mirabel got older, she started to question that. Casita may be alive with magic, but it didn't need to eat…right?

Or, why did Mamà and Tía Pepa look so different even though they were twins? Why was their family tree portrait composed so weird? Who was leaving little gifts for the kids every birthday? Why did Abuela talk to the Candle so much? Why did Mirabel not have a Gift? Why was Isabela so annoying?

Many mysteries. Many unanswered questions.

But none of them was more strange—and intriguing—than the mystery of the locked door in the corner of the house. It looked like an ordinary door, all things considered. No portraits or magical glowing like those of the household's Gifted members. It looked even more boring than the nursery door, if that was even possible. And yet, whenever the children would ask about it, they were met with flustered stammers, thunder, and poor attempts at deflection from the adults. Abuela had calmly told them there was nothing behind the door, just an area for storage. That sounded…dubious, but when it became clear they'd never get an answer out of them, the kids eventually gave up.

That didn't stop the speculation about it, of course. Camilo especially had some…interesting theories (a portal to another dimension? Really?). Luisa suspected it was some defective magical room, Isabela once said it might have been an older nursery that their mom and aunt might have slept in (stupid idea), and Dolores claimed she could hear nothing behind the door other than a strange magical buzzing. But, as the years went on and there were no answers, their interest in it eventually waned and the kids started focusing on other things.

Like today. Camilo was having his fifteenth birthday party today, and the house was hectic. Tía Pepa always went all out for her kids. Nothing but the best for them, and Camilo had plenty of demands. Spoiled little brat.

Before the party, though, they'd all be gathering in Camilo's room—Mirabel, her two sisters, and her three cousins—to discuss their latest find—a mysterious birthday present. Every year, without fail, the third generation of Madrigal kids would receive a small but meaningful present on their birthdays. They used to ask their parents about it when they were young, but none of them took responsibility (once Papà had even brought up El Niño Dios—even when it was nowhere near Christmastime), and now it was more of a tradition to gather in the birthday kid's room and try to figure it out themselves.

Mirabel adjusted the glasses on her face and headed out of her room. Below her, the party preparations were in full swing. Tía Pepa was calling out instructions to everyone, getting angry and starting up a windstorm when they didn't listen to the letter, which ironically messed things up even more. Mirabel smirked, making her way to Camilo's room.

When she got there, everyone else was already present. Mirabel shut the door behind her.

"About time," Isabela scoffed.

Mirabel stuck her tongue out at her. "Fashionably late. Now, where's the gift?"

"Heeere!" Camilo held up what looked like a pair of handmade maracas and shook them a couple of times. Small, crudely made, as usual, but he seemed pretty happy with them. As usual. "I just found these this morning on my dresser. You may begin inspecting them, but be careful, because I will be very mad if they break." He passed around the maracas, and it came to little Antonio first.

"Wow," Antonio whispered. He turned them and waved them delicately, as if they was some valuable artifact and not a cheap piece of wood with rocks inside. "Is this what you wanted, Milo?"

"Uhhhh, kinda? I remember saying something about wanting to add a bit of flair to my performances, so I guess some maracas are as good a way to do that as anything."

Luisa took the present next, holding them gingerly in her palms so as not to break them. "And it came in the usual box?"

"Yep, same box. It's still on the dresser." Camilo nodded over to where the little cardboard box, about the size of a shoebox and decorated with green stripes, was sitting. "No doubt it will disappear by morning only to come back for the next birthday."

"One time I tried to shove the box in a drawer so it wouldn't disappear," Mirabel commented. "But that didn't work. Casita must have opened the drawer and set it free."

Casita jiggled one of its floorboards, laughing.

"When I was little, I used to assume that Casita itself was the one leaving us the presents," Isabela mused. "And it would just make them out of stuff lying around the house or outside."

"That's a nice thought," Camilo said, "But I've gotten things in the past that are surprisingly well-crafted for how little there is to work with. Casita is real special and all, but I don't think 'fine motor control' is on its list of skills." He patted the floor next to him. "Sorry, buddy."

Casita slowly raised and sagged a board as if it was sighing in defeat.

"So, it's definitely a human making these, then?" Luisa asked. "Most likely someone from our family, right? They just don't want to tell us who."

"Mamà said it was a fairy," Antonio piped up. "Like the ones from the story books."

Mirabel stifled a giggle. "Maybe it is, Toñito. Anything's possible."

The gift was passed to Isabela, who inspected it with mild disapproval. "That just begs the question, though, if it's a person—um, or a fairy, I guess—why are these so cheaply made? Surely whoever it is has better access to materials than just pieces of scrap."

"Hey, they may be scrap, but they're always things we like," Luisa pointed out.

"Yeah, Isa," Mirabel snipped. "It's about the sentiment, not the material value. But I guess you wouldn't know anything about that." She snatched the maracas from Isabela as her sister shot her a dirty look. Mirabel took a moment to observe the amateur but lovingly crafted patterns painted on, ignoring her sister.

"Be careful with those!" Camilo snapped. Then he turned his attention to Dolores. "You've been awfully quiet, sis. Have you not heard anything that can clue us in?"

Dolores quickly shook her head. "Nope. Whoever it is must be doing it while I'm asleep, because I never hear a thing."

"Ugh. What's the point of your Gift if you can't even hear the things that matter?"

"Hmph." Dolores tilted her head toward the door. "Isa, Abuela is looking for you. She wants you to help with the party decorations."

Isabela sighed, stood up, and dusted herself off. "Alright, better get to work. Camilo, any requests?"

"Keep the pink to a minimum, please?"

"Right, of course. You're a man, after all. Is red okay?"

"Red is good, yellow is good. Maybe a little purple, but not too much."

"Save the pink for Mirabel's quince," Dolores giggled.

Isabela rolled her eyes and gracefully left the room, leaving the others to keep talking. Luisa slung an arm around her little sister and gave her an affectionate noogie at the mention of her upcoming quinceañera.

"Aww, my baby sis is growing up! Almost three months left, how do you feel?"

"Uh—"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Camilo interrupted. "No talking about Mirabel's quince until my birthday is over." He sat back and pouted like a baby. "My birthday's already overshadowed by Christmas, I don't need Mirabel intruding on my spotlight too."

"Uh, don't talk to me about being overshadowed, Camilo," Mirabel scoffed at him. She wriggled out of Luisa's grasp and finally passed the maracas to Dolores, before whirling back to him. "I deserve my time to shine too, even if it outshines your birthday. We'll both have normal parties next year."

Camilo blew a raspberry at her. Dolores just shook his mysterious present next to her ear to listen to their pleasant sound.

It wasn't long before their gathering was broken up so everyone else could help with the party setup. With not much to do until then, Mirabel had asked her mother for a list of supplies they still needed, as an excuse to go into town while still feeling useful. Today was a nice day. People were waving to her as she went, and kids were running up to greet her.

"Mirabel, Mirabel!" shouted little Alejandra as she ran up to tug on Mirabel's dress. "What kind of cake will be at the birthday party tonight?"

"Well, my mom's making it, so let me check her shopping list." She looked over the piece of paper in her hand as Alejandra's friends, Cecelia and Juancho (the latter of which looked way too hyped up on coffee as usual) ran up to join them. Mirabel grinned down at the kids. "Chocolate."

"Yay!" They shouted.

Cecelia tugged on her dress next, her eyes sweet and innocent. "Will there be balloons at the party?"

"Of course."

Juancho next. "How about a bouncy house?"

"Uh, I don't know about that."

"What about entertainment? A clown?"

"Yeah, we have a clown, he's the birthday boy."

They continued following her and chattering away while she finished her grocery run. Mirabel was heading toward her final stop, when they passed by the Madrigal family mural in the town square.

"Mirabel, why is the Candle in your family portrait so huge?" Cecelia asked.

Mirabel looked up, pausing next to the mural. "Um…probably because it's really important," she told them. "You know, sometimes, in art, things don't have to look exactly like real life. Sometimes you make things bigger to show that they matter more." She patted the big candle on the mural, holding back a chuckle at how awkwardly it sat between her mom and tía in the picture. As if just trying to fill the gap. The kids seemed to be satisfied with this answer though, so they continued onward.

The last stop was Old Man Martinez, though Mirabel wasn't allowed to call him that to his face. The man had to be at least a hundred, and while he was the go-to for the cocoa her mother would need, getting it from him always proved to be a hassle.

"Morning, Señor Martinez," Mirabel greeted as she walked up to his stand. "How are you doing today?"

Señor Martinez slowly looked up from where he was sitting, his eyes adjusting to the sunlight. Then he smiled. "Oh! Buenos dias, Julieta! Good to see you, it's been too long."

Mirabel sighed but kept up her smile. "No, no, Señor, I'm Mirabel, remember? Julieta's daughter."

He frowned. "Daughter? But she's only thirteen."

"No, she's fifty and she has three kids. But never mind that. Could I get a pound of cocoa powder, please? We're making a birthday cake for Camilo."

"Who?"

"Camilo, my cousin. Pepa's son."

He blinked before nodding, probably just as tired of this conversation as she was. Poor guy. "Right, right, of course. Let me get that for you, uh…where did I put that…"

Mirabel waited patiently as he slowly looked around his little shop for what she needed. Briefly, she wondered where his daughter was and why she wasn't helping him out. The kids standing around her seemed to be getting restless, but they didn't want to leave yet.

Señor Martinez turned back to her, a bag of cocoa powder in his hand and a far-off look in his eyes. He said nothing.

"…Señor?"

He looked at her again. "Oh, hello! Aren't you one of Alma's triplets?"

Mirabel sighed. The kids started to giggle but she gave them a scolding nudge. "No, Señor Martinez, my Abuela Alma has two kids, and I'm her granddaughter."

"Eh? I could've sworn there were three of you…"

"Yes, there's three of us—me and my two sisters. We're not triplets, and we're Julieta's kids. May I please have some cocoa powder?"

"Oh, of course, Julieta. Where did I put—oh! How'd that get there?" He laughed and handed the bag to her. "There you go. That will be three pesos, please."

Mirabel gave up and just paid for the cocoa powder. She thanked Old Man Martinez and finally started heading back home. The kids started giggling and whispering again, earning themselves a scolding look from her. "Don't laugh. That might be you someday. Now run along, I have to get these things home to my mom."

The kids, disappointed, said goodbye and Mirabel headed back up the path to her house. Things were still going crazy in there, but the place was looking more decorated and things looked to be coming together. Camilo was sitting on a chair, not lifting a finger to help, just bossing everyone around like a king overseeing his servants.

He spotted Mirabel and held up a hand. "Stop. What's in the bags?"

"Uh, groceries?"

"Oh. Boring. Continue."

Mirabel shrugged and headed to the kitchen. "Okay, I mean, it was stuff for your birthday cake, but okay."

Camilo sat up again. "What flavor is it?"

"Oh sorry, can't tell you! You have to wait until the party to see it, or else it's bad luck!"

"What? Am I marrying the cake?" He paused for a moment. "Actually, that doesn't sound too bad."

Mirabel rolled her eyes and finally made it to the kitchen. Her mother was there, elbow deep in preparations, not noticing as her daughter walked in.

"I'm back, Mà."

Julieta looked up, a smile of relief on her face, "Oh, thank you so much, mija. You just saved me a lot of time."

"Glad I can help. You want me to get started on making the cake?"

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that, sweetheart, you've already helped me quite a lot. Your friends should be coming soon, hmm?"

"Not for a couple hours at least, mom. Come on, let's make a cake together. Mother-daughter bonding."

"Aww," Julieta placed a hand on her heart and reached out to pull Mirabel close for a kiss on the cheek. "You're so precious, Mira. So helpful and sweet."

"Mom…"

"Best third daughter I've ever had. Mwah."

Mirabel rolled her eyes and tried not to cringe. Her mom was doing her best, but it was really easy to see where she was trying to make up for Mirabel's Giftlessness. Like, come on, she was over that already. She just wanted to make some cake.

"Alright, you can start on the dry ingredients," Julieta said once she was done smothering her. She clapped her hands, signaling Casita to bring out a bowl and an extra whisk for Mirabel. "You remember what to do, right?"

"Si, Mamà."

"Great, let me know if you need anything."

Mirabel nodded and quickly let herself get lost in the familiar process. She and her mom had done this countless times, and they didn't need to talk to get things done. It was one of the nicer moments she often had in life, being able to take some of the burden off her mother, and simply work without the constant feeling of needing to overcompensate. Here, it was just a mother and daughter making good food together, like all mothers and daughters did. Plus, baking was just fun.

Hmm, would her mother also allow her to help bake for her own birthday? Probably not. Her parents hadn't allowed it for her other birthdays, choosing instead to spoil her, and this upcoming birthday was going to be special. She was already antsy just thinking about it. Mirabel was so close to being considered an adult…and she couldn't help but wonder if that would change anything at all.

Mirabel brought her focus back to the cake.

Camilo's party was a blast, as was expected. He was popular around town and was constantly surrounded by admirers, even now—little kids wishing for entertainment, girls his age batting their eyes at him, older folks doting on him, and obnoxious teenage pals joining in on his plans for mischief, no doubt. As annoying as Mirabel often found him, she admired her cousin's ability to somehow charm everyone around him. Like her other Gifted family members, it often seemed that Camilo could do no wrong.

Mirabel was currently sitting on a bench and munching on some party treats. People came by, having passing conversations with her, but even a social butterfly like Mirabel needed moments alone at a party like this.

The guy who approached her now had apparently missed the memo. "Heeeey, mamacita."

Mirabel paused, her fork hanging in the air, as she turned incredulously toward the voice. It belonged to one of Camilo's friends, Juan or something, who was leaning against the wall and poorly playing the part of a casanova.

"Excuse me?" Mirabel asked flatly.

"I said heeeeey, mamacita. You're looking fine as all get-out tonight. What do you say we ditch this party and go have a party of our own somewhere else?"

Mirabel cringed, hoping the clear disdain on her face spoke for itself.

It did not, or maybe he just had no shame. "Don't worry, Camilo said it was cool for me to ask you out."

"Did he." Mirabel glanced over at her cousin, who was currently being swung back and forth in the air by his friends holding him by the arms and the legs in some weird, childish form of roughhousing. Somehow, she doubted that Camilo had heard anything about this. Because if this guy had actually asked him, he'd have known that Camilo didn't give a hoot about Mirabel's love life.

Also, there were two more boys standing behind Juan or whatever, giggling like idiots. Mirabel looked back up at him. "Are you doing this on a dare, Juan?"

His smile fell. "My name is Julio."

The other two boys burst out laughing. Julio or whatever blushed in embarrassment. Mirabel smirked. "Yeah, whatever. Get out of here before I call Luisa."

The boy slunk away at last, left to the mercy of his dumb friends.

Mirabel sat back in satisfaction, happily eating her mom's buñelos…when a low growling noise snapped her out of her thoughts. She sat up straight, startled, but no one else had seemed to notice the noise. Mirabel looked below her feet and noticed Casita's tiles vibrating subtly.

"Casita, was that you?" She patted the wall next to her affectionately. "Why do you rumble like that, amiga? Are you okay?"

Casita tapped a tile to say yes.

"Just a little quirk of yours then, huh? Don't worry, I totally get it."

A new noise caught her attention and she looked up to see Camilo and his friends finishing their weird little game…mostly by rocking him a little too hard and sending him sprawling onto the floor.

Camilo yelped in pain as he hit the ground, and then started shouting insults and the boys who threw him. "Ay, stupidos, what is wrong with you?! How does your Mamà let you hold your baby brother with those butterfingers? None of you donkeys are allowed at my parties ever again."

They laughed. Mirabel also laughed.

Tía Pepa was not laughing. "Oyé! Stupid kids! Stop throwing my son around like a ragdoll!" She stomped toward the scene, a massive thundercloud already forming above her, and the boys squealed like pigs before running away. To tell the truth, they seemed less afraid of the thundercloud than they were of the chancla currently in Tía Pepa's hand.

Camilo laid on the floor, his hands covering his face. "Mamà, you're embarrassing me…"

Mirabel continued giggling at what she was seeing, when she was interrupted by another low growl, this one seemingly stronger than before.

"Whoa, Casita," Mirabel said, concerned. She patted the wall once again. "What's gotten into you?"

Casita responded by tapping against her foot and then pointing somewhere to her right. A group of girls her age were standing around talking, and one of them spotted Mirabel and waved her over.

Mirabel grinned. "Hey guys!" She got up to go to them, but then paused to point to the floor. "This isn't over, we will talk later," she stated. Satisfied with that for now, she got up to join the girls and enjoy the rest of the party.

After everyone had left, the house was eerily quiet. Mirabel was in the hallways of Casita that night after everyone had gone to bed, and the calm was enough to make her almost fall back asleep where she stood.

As fun as birthday parties could be, they did come with their downsides. Like the fact that all those buñelos and cake often meant midnight trips to the bathroom for Mirabel. Not super unpleasant in itself, but she didn't like being woken from a warm, heavy sleep by that annoying rumbling in her gut that refused to wait just a few more hours.

So Mirabel found herself returning from the bathroom that night, half-asleep, eager to get back to her bed. It was a pleasant, quiet night, in contrast to the loud party she'd just experienced. The tiles under her feet were cool, crickets were chirping outside, moonlight shined in the courtyard, the mysterious door in the corner was creaking, slightly ajar…

…

…what.