Once Upon a Time

'All right.' I select a book at random, open it and begin to read. 'Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful princess. Her name - '

'Not that story.' The book is taken out of my hands. 'I want to hear about Peter Pettigrew.'

'Peter Pettigrew? Again? But you heard about Peter Pettigrew last night.'

'Please, Dad.'

I sigh. 'All right, sweetheart. Once upon a time, there was a boy called Peter Pettigrew.'

'What did he look like?'

Not so much a story as a catechism, I think. 'He had blond hair, poppet, and eyes as blue as the sea.' I reach out and ruffle the blond hair, wink at the blue eyes. My son twists and giggles under my hand.

'He was handsome and clever and brave. And he was a wizard, just like you.' I pause for dramatic effect. 'And because he was a wizard, he went to a wizard school. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'

'Did you go to Hogwarts, Dad?'

'Hogwarts isn't there any more, sweetheart. There's a new school now.' He nods, and I take that as permission to continue. 'Everyone at the school liked Peter, but he had three special friends. They were called - '

'James Potter and Sirius Black and - who was the third one?'

'Remus Lupin. James Potter and Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. James Potter was a tall boy with untidy dark hair. He wore glasses all the time, because he couldn't see very well.'

'Why didn't they just fix his eyes, Dad?'

'I don't know, sweetheart.' I don't know. 'Maybe they didn't know how to do it back then. Sirius Black was a very handsome boy, but not as handsome as Peter Pettigrew. And the third friend, Remus Lupin - ' I drop my voice ' - he was a Dark Creature. A wicked werewolf!'

We growl at each other, werewolves together. 'There aren't any werewolves now, are there?' he asks, a little nervous. He always has to ask.

I shake my head. 'Not for a very long time.'

He nods at that, reassured, and asks in a sleepy voice, 'Why did Peter make friends with a wicked werewolf?'

'Well, that just shows how good Peter was, you see,' I tell him. 'Everybody liked him and he liked everybody. And besides, nobody knew that Remus Lupin was a werewolf until Peter found out.'

'What did Peter do then, Dad?' His eyes are wide open, watching me in anticipation and pleasure. This is one of his favourite parts. I'm not sure I believe it.

'Peter taught his friends James Potter and Sirius Black how to turn into animals. James Potter became Prongs, the great stag, and Sirius Black was Padfoot, the friendly dog, which is why we call Sirius the Dog Star. Peter became Wormtail the Rat, and he was their leader, and together they looked after the werewolf whenever there was a full moon, and stopped it eating people.'

'They were very brave, weren't they, Dad?'

It's not really a question, but I answer anyway. 'They were. But Peter was even braver than that.'

'He beat Lord Voldemort.'

'He did. But we're getting ahead of the story.' Another theatrical pause. 'Now, at that time, there lived an evil wizard. He was tall and thin and pale, with red eyes and a face like a skull, and his name was - Lord Voldemort!' My left hand snakes out suddenly from behind my back and I tickle his tummy with the Voldemort puppet until he's squealing with laughter and there are tears in his eyes.

'Lord Voldemort was so evil he could talk to snakes, and he wanted to be ruler of all the world. Everybody was afraid of him, except Peter.'

'Even James Potter and Sirius Black and Re-' He trips over the name again and looks at me for help.

'Remus Lupin. Yes, even they were afraid of Lord Voldemort. James Potter was especially afraid because he had married a beautiful witch, who was called Lily Evans. She was a Mudblood, which means her parents were Muggles - '

'A Muggle was someone who couldn't do magic,' he says proudly, showing off his knowledge. 'Like Squibs.'

'Not quite like Squibs. If two Squibs married and had a child who couldn't do magic, that would be a bit like a Muggle.'

He frowns at that. 'Squibs aren't allowed to have children.'

'That's right.'

'So where did Muggles come from?'

I shake my head. 'I don't know, poppet.'

'Are there any now?'

I shake my head again. ' - and James and Lily had a little boy called Harry.'

'Harry Potter.'

'That's right.' I ruffle his hair. 'Now, there was an ancient prophecy which foretold that the only person who could defeat Lord Voldemort would be a little boy, and Peter realised that that boy was Harry Potter. So Peter did a very brave and clever thing - he went to Lord Voldemort and said he would help him to rule the world. And Lord Voldemort believed him.'

'He wasn't very clever, was he, Dad?'

'Lord Voldemort? No, he wasn't. He was a great wizard, but he wasn't very clever. Peter Pettigrew was much cleverer. Peter knew that nobody could fight Lord Voldemort unless they had special powers. So he tricked Lord Voldemort into attacking Harry Potter when Harry was only a baby. And Lord Voldemort's spell bounced back on him and nearly destroyed him. He had to crawl away and hide, and everybody thought he was dead.'

'Except Peter.'

'Except Peter. Who's telling this story - you or me?'

He ignores me. 'And Harry Potter got special powers.'

'And Harry Potter got special powers. And a scar on his forehead, shaped like a lightning bolt. But Peter had to hide as well, because he had been so clever, he had fooled everyone into thinking he really was a friend of Lord Voldemort. So he turned into Wormtail the Rat, to watch over Harry and keep him safe.'

'Because Peter knew Lord Voldemort would return.' Sometimes I wonder why he needs me to tell the story at all.

'And Lord Voldemort did return. He captured Harry Potter, and he tried to kill him, and Harry escaped again, but not before Peter had tricked Lord Voldemort for a second time.'

'Dad! Tell it properly. I want to hear the bit about the cauldron.'

I hesitate. 'Are you sure?'

'Dad!'

I'm not convinced this is appropriate for a seven-year-old, but he's never had nightmares yet. 'And Lord Voldemort had a magic cauldron and he cast an evil spell. He used bones from a dead body, and some of Harry Potter's blood and he cut off Peter's hand to make the evil spell work. But he gave Peter a new hand in exchange. And that was how Peter got his Magic Silver Hand.'

'And it made him extra strong.' He sits up. 'Did it hurt?'

'I think it did. Remember when you fell over and twisted your wrist?' He nods, wide-eyed. 'Just think how brave Peter was, to let Lord Voldemort cut off his whole hand.'

'He must have loved Harry a lot. As much as you love me.' He thinks for a moment. 'Would you cut off your hand for me?'

I gather him up and hold him tightly. 'What do you think?' I don't doubt it.

'I think you would,' he says, satisfied. I keep holding on to him, not realising I'm doing it until he wriggles to be put down. I wonder if I'll ever be able to tell him how precious he is. But he's looking at me impatiently, as only a child can, so I carry on with the story.

'But Lord Voldemort had made a terrible mistake. He had taken some of Harry's blood, and used it for himself. And that blood gave Lord Voldemort a weakness, and that meant he could be killed. So Peter had tricked him again.

'And, one day, Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort met for the third and final time - because three times is the charm. They were both mighty wizards now, mighty and powerful, and they had a great magic battle and Harry killed Lord Voldemort, for ever, there in Godric's Hollow where he had lived as a baby, just as the sun was going down.'

'And the scar on his forehead disappeared forever.'

'And the scar on his forehead disappeared forever. But Harry had been wounded in the battle, and he would have died, but Peter saved him and carried him away and healed him.'

'Harry was very brave, too, wasn't he, Dad?'

'He was quite brave,' I say. 'Not as brave as Peter Pettigrew. It's easy to be brave when you don't have a choice.'

'What happened to Peter Pettigrew?' We both know he knows the answer.

'Why, he lived happily ever after, of course. How else would a fairy tale end?'

'Mmm.' He snuggles down under the bedclothes. 'That was a good story. I wish we lived back then, when there were Muggles, then we could have adventures. Like Peter Pettigrew.'

I touch the tip of his nose with my finger. 'Things are better now,' I tell him. 'Things are better now.'