Halliwell Manor has been empty for several years. The layer of dust that has accumulated on the furniture is unpleasantly thick. There are cobwebs in every corner, waiting to spring themselves on an unsuspecting visitor. The rooms smell musty, like a waterlogged library. Though the garden shows signs of maintenance, the interior is oppressively lifeless. Without people to fill it, the house has become a shadow of its former self. Underneath all of that, the place is the same as the sisters remember. Halliwell Manor looks like home.