"Daddy, will you read me a bedtime story?" the little boy asked his father, bright blue eyes looking up eagerly.

"Again?"

"Please daddy? Pretty please?"

"Oh, all right. What do you want to hear?"

"Something new."

The father thought for a minute. Then he smiled. "Did I ever tell you about the story of the Boy Who Lived?"

"No daddy, who is he?"

"Harry was the son of James and Lily. They lived a happy life, but it wasn't the best of times. There was a War, and the bad guy wanted Harry."

"Why daddy?"

"Because Harry was very powerful, and the bad guy – his name was Tom Riddle – was jealous. He didn't want anyone more powerful that him."

"That's mean."

"Yes, it is. So Tom went to Harry and his parents. He killed Lily and James."

"Daddy, that's awful!" The boy looked distraught.

"I know it is, but it happened. And then he tried to kill the baby Harry. But Harry's mother had died to save him, so Tom failed, and Harry lived."

"Is he a hero?"

"Yes, he is." The father smiled. "He survived. And so a great wizard names Albus Dumbledore sent him to live with his mother's sister, so he would be safe. But she was a muggle, and jealous of his magic."

"What did she do?"

"She made him live in a cupboard under the stairs, and do lots of chores with no pocket money, and she told her son, the boy's cousin, to be very mean and nasty. And the boy had no idea he was a wizard, or famous. He didn't know magic existed at all."

"Wow."

"He thought his parents died in a car crash – like a broom accident, only worse – and that they were awful people who abandoned him. When he turned eleven, he got his letter to Hogwarts – just like you will someday!" The boy giggled. "And he was told everything – about the night his parents died, about magic, about his fame. And he went to Hogwarts."

"What happened at Hogwarts, daddy?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow night. Good night, sleep tight."