She had always known the time would come, and had tried to prepare herself mentally against it. Her attempts were in vain.

Forgotten were the calm words that would chastise without denigration, the soft but strict tones that would positively mould a developing mind. Forgotten was her vow not to be frightened of a boy who could not yet say her name.

All she could think of was the look on her son's face, his screams as he floundered helplessly in mid-air - and her nephew's eyes as he looked on, laughing.

That night, Harry Potter was moved into the cupboard.

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