Part of me knew going to London was a bad idea, though not for the reasons to come. I had been dreaming of that city for years. All of my favorite obsessions came out of there and I wanted to visit to find the magic hidden down those city streets. In the back of my mind I dreamed of rounding a corner and ending up in Diagon Alley, or walking into a pub and sitting down next to Gwen Cooper, or maybe hearing the whoosh of those familiar engines before seeing that magical blue box materialize.
Silly dreams. I knew that.
It is for that reason I almost cancelled my trip. Part of me was afraid of getting to London and finding just another dirty, overpopulated, city devoid of magic. I would finally see the truth and the spell I had been under would shatter, leaving me confused and unable to pick up the pieces. That was the logical part of my brain, trying to reiterate what I already knew to be true.
Magic isn't real. You are wasting your time, and are going to break the illusion.
But, there was that other tiny part of me I told you about… that little whisper in the back of my head, urging me to believe. So I decided to go for it. To take a leap of faith and go on the search to prove there is more than the eye can see.
Perhaps that was ridiculous, or foolish, or just full-out insane. In fact, I'm sure it was all of those things, and I have only one defense:
I'm human.
