“So…magic,” said Vanessa again, obviously trying to compose a sentence that would make her sound like a police officer and not a ten-year-old fangirl. “So…magic is a real thing.” “Yes,” I said. “But it isn’t like Harry Potter, is it?” “What makes you say that?” “You’re driving a Volkswagen,” she said. “What?” I said. “You think Harry Potter would drive a Mercedes?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Vanessa. “If he drove anything it would be a Ford Anglia.” Which meant nothing to me—I thought the boy wizard rode a broomstick.