“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.