Joanne Rowling: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child

HARRY: Moldy blanket?

ALBUS: What did you think would happen? We’d hug. I’d tell you I always loved you. What? What?

HARRY (finally losing his temper) : You know what? I’m done with being made responsible for your unhappiness. At least you’ve got a dad. Because I didn’t, okay?

ALBUS: And you think that was unlucky? I don’t.

HARRY: You wish me dead?

ALBUS: No! I just wish you weren’t my dad.

HARRY (seeing red) : Well, there are times I wish you weren’t my son.

There’s a silence. ALBUS nods. Pause. HARRY realizes what he’s said.

No, I didn’t mean that . . .

ALBUS: Yes. You did.

HARRY: Albus, you just know how to get under my skin . . .

ALBUS: You meant it, Dad. And, honestly, I don’t blame you.

There’s a horrible pause.

You should probably leave me alone now.

HARRY: Albus, please . . .

ALBUS picks up the blanket and throws it. It collides with RON’s love potion, which spills all over the blanket and the bed, producing a small puff of smoke.

ALBUS: No luck or love for me, then.

ALBUS runs out of the room. HARRY goes after him.

HARRY: Albus. Albus . . . Please . . .

There’s a LARGE BOOM. Then there’s a LARGE CRASH. DUDLEY DURSLEY, AUNT PETUNIA, and UNCLE VERNON are cowering behind a bed.

DUDLEY DURSLEY: Mum, I don’t like this.

AUNT PETUNIA: I knew we made a mistake coming here. Vernon. Vernon. There’s nowhere we can hide. Not even a lighthouse is far enough away!

There’s another LARGE BOOM.

UNCLE VERNON: Hold on. Hold on. Whatever it is, it’s not coming in here.

AUNT PETUNIA: We’re cursed! He’s cursed us! The boy has cursed us! (Seeing YOUNG HARRY.) This is all your fault. Get back in your hole.

YOUNG HARRY flinches away as UNCLE VERNON holds out his rifle.

UNCLE VERNON: Whoever’s there, I should warn you — I’m armed.

There’s a MASSIVE SMASH. And the door falls off its hinges. HAGRID stands in the middle of the doorway. He looks at them all.

HAGRID: Couldn’t make us a cup o’ tea, could yeh? It’s not been an easy journey.

DUDLEY DURSLEY: Look. At. Him.

UNCLE VERNON: Stand back. Stand back. Behind me, Petunia. Behind me, Dudley. I’ll soon see this scarramanger off.

HAGRID: Scarrawhat?

He picks up UNCLE VERNON’s gun.

Haven’t seen one of these for a while.

He twists the end of the gun and ties it in a knot.

Oops-a-daisy.

And then he gets distracted. He’s seen YOUNG HARRY.

Harry Potter.

YOUNG HARRY: Hello.

HAGRID: Las’ time I saw yeh, yeh was only a baby. Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh’ve got yer mum’s eyes.

YOUNG HARRY: You knew my parents?

HAGRID: Where’s me manners? A very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here — I mighta sat on it at some point, but it’ll taste all right.

From inside his coat he pulls a slightly squashed chocolate cake with “Happy Birthday Harry” written on it in green icing.

YOUNG HARRY: Who are you?

HAGRID (laughing) : True, I haven’t introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. (He looks around himself.) What about that tea, then, eh? I’d not say no ter summat stronger if yeh’ve got it, mind.

YOUNG HARRY: Hogwhere?

HAGRID: Hogwarts. Yeh’ll know all about Hogwarts, o’ course.

YOUNG HARRY: Er — no. Sorry.

HAGRID: Sorry? It’s them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren’t gettin’ yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn’t even know abou’ Hogwarts, fer cryin’ out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learnt it all?

YOUNG HARRY: Learnt what?

HAGRID turns menacingly towards UNCLE VERNON.

HAGRID: Do you mean ter tell me, that this boy — this boy! — knows nothin’ abou’ — about ANYTHING?

UNCLE VERNON: I forbid you to tell the boy anything more!

YOUNG HARRY: Tell me what?

HAGRID looks at UNCLE VERNON and then at YOUNG HARRY.

HAGRID: Harry — yer a wizard — yeh changed everything. Yer the most famous wizard in the whole world.

And then, right from the back of the room, whispering around everyone.

Words said with an unmistakable voice. The voice of VOLDEMORT . . .

Haaarry Pottttter.

HARRY wakes suddenly. Breathing deeply in the night.

He waits a moment. Calming himself. And then he feels intense pain in his forehead. In his scar. Around him, Dark Magic moves.

GINNY: Harry . . .

HARRY: It’s fine. Go back to sleep.

GINNY: Lumos.

The room is filled with light from her wand. HARRY looks at her.

A nightmare?

HARRY: Yes.

GINNY: About what?

HARRY: The Dursleys — well, it started there — then it became something else.

Pause. GINNY looks at him — trying to work out where he is.

GINNY: Do you want a Sleeping Draught?

HARRY: No. I’ll be fine. Go back to sleep.

GINNY: You don’t seem fine.

HARRY says nothing.

(Seeing his agitation.) It can’t have been easy — with Amos Diggory.

HARRY: The anger I can cope with, the fact he’s right is harder. Amos lost his son because of me —

GINNY: That doesn’t seem particularly fair on yourself . . .

HARRY: — and there’s nothing I can say — nothing I can say to anyone — unless it’s the wrong thing, of course . . .

GINNY knows what — or rather who — he’s referring to.

GINNY: So that’s what’s upsetting you? The night before Hogwarts, it’s never a good night if you don’t want to go. Giving Al the blanket. It was a nice try.

HARRY: It went pretty badly wrong from there. I said some things, Ginny . . .

GINNY: I heard.

HARRY: And you’re still talking to me?

GINNY: Because I know that when the time is right you’ll say sorry. That you didn’t mean it. That what you said concealed . . . other things. You can be honest with him, Harry . . . That’s all he needs.

HARRY: I just wish he was more like James or Lily.

GINNY (dry) : Yeah, maybe don’t be that honest.

HARRY: No, I wouldn’t change a thing about him . . . but I can understand them, and . . .

GINNY: Albus is different and isn’t that a good thing. And he can tell, you know, when you’re putting on your Harry Potter front. He wants to see the real you.

HARRY: “The truth is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution.”

GINNY looks at him, surprised.

Dumbledore.

GINNY: A strange thing to say to a child.

HARRY: Not when you believe that child will have to die to save the world.

HARRY gasps again — and does all he can not to touch his forehead.

GINNY: Harry. What’s wrong?

HARRY: Fine. I’m fine. I hear you. I’ll try to be —

GINNY: Does your scar hurt?

HARRY: No. No. I’m fine. Now, Nox that and let’s get some sleep.

GINNY: Harry. How long has it been since your scar hurt?

HARRY turns to GINNY, his face says it all.

HARRY: Twenty-two years.