I am jolted from my dream by the cries of an infant. Groaning, I heave myself off the bed.

Half the time there is nothing wrong with him; he needn't be changed, he refuses his bottle and ignores his favourite toy. Perhaps he has had a bad dream? Or maybe he is afraid of the dark? Some Gryffindor.

Harry ceases crying when I pick him up. Almost unconsciously I began to rock him back and forth. I tell him to hush and, surprisingly, he does.

I’ll be rid of him soon and there’ll be no more 3am wakeup calls.