"Old Chicago," Dash said, standing next to me while the others chastised each other over what each decided to wear on the trip.
"My parents brought me here when I was seven," I said. "It was the first time I visited the Museum of Magic."
I remembered the museum as if I'd visited it yesterday. The halls were lined with portraits of famous witches, warlocks, and wizards. One entire floor of the building was dedicated to the history of magic, dispelling some of the negative beliefs about the profession. Another floor housed a plethora of ancient artifacts dedicated to the craft. Remembering the museum reinforced the reason I was at the gates to the city, I wanted to be the best. I wanted to someday have my picture hanging on the wall in the museum.
A man passed by and looked at us, eying
