In Henry’s mind, magic was something wrong, something bent, dangerous.
“Magic!” she muttered. “Learning the ingredients for potions by heart, magic spells, magic symbols; no, thanks, not for me.”
Igraine the Brave
Rose knew that the rumors were true: The baked goods from Follow Your Bliss Bakery actually were magical. And her mother and father, despite living in a small town, owning a minivan, and sometimes wearing fanny packs, were kitchen magicians.