MINISTRY OF MAGIC, CORRIDOR

HARRY walks steadily down a dark corridor of burnished black-olive tiles. His steps are cavalier, but cautious. HARRY's shrewd grin grows wider with each wizard and witch he passes until he sees a hunched man, mid-sixties — AMOS DIGGORY — roaming the hall appearing tired and weak. When AMOS sees HARRY, he removes an ivy cap. His face brightens as HARRY's expression falters. NOTT was right — there was someone waiting for him. Suddenly full of energy, AMOS scurries up to HARRY.

AMOS: Harry! I wonder if we could have a moment.

HARRY: Mister Diggory. Sorry... Amos.

AMOS: I've tried to make an appointment. They said, "Ah, Mr. Diggory, we have an appointment for you, let's see, in two months."

HARRY: Amos, I understand, I really do —

AMOS: The reason I'm here with such urgency is I've just heard rumor — strong rumor — that the Ministry —

HARRY: — but I'm afraid it's been a rather busy day thus far and —

AMOS: Is it true?

HARRY: Not at all, sir. Voldemort has not returned.

AMOS (hesitating): Voldemort? No no... (He is filled with excitement) A Time-Turner has been found. The Ministry has a Time-Turner, does it not? Kept... for investigation?

HARRY (in a stupor): How...? No, the Time-Turners were all destroyed.

AMOS (off Harry's look): Oh. But I was told you knew. Arthur Weasley... He explained it all to me. His son Ronald discovered one during last night's raid at the home of Theodore Nott. Arthur was quite proud. (trembling, he grabs for HARRY's hand) Mister Potter, please. Please, use the Time-Turner to save my son, Cedric. You do remember Cedric, don't you?

HARRY: Yes, I remember your son. His loss was —

AMOS: As one father to another... I implore you. Get him back.

HARRY: Get him back? Amos, that's not possible.

AMOS: You must stop Voldemort from taking my son, Harry. You owe it to him.

HARRY is overcome with emotion. He looks down at AMOS DIGGORY's hand and steadily pulls away. DELPHI enters but remains out of sight.

HARRY (punctuated by many pauses): I...I'm sorry, Amos. You are misinformed.

AMOS: Please, Harry. You cannot understand the pain I have suffered. I've never gotten over it.

AMOS examines the corridor quizzically, his voice distant.

Since the moment he died, I have felt it. Everything about this world is wrong. I've never been more certain of anything. For years, I've suspected that we've been living in some sort of...parallel universe, in a warped existence where everything is higgledy-piggledy. I could never explain why, but I've known — in my heart of hearts — that this was never supposed to be our reality.

His roving gaze focuses intensely on HARRY.

Now I understand. Now I have hope that it could be set right. Because now it all makes sense. We are living in an alternate timeline. Harry, you must —

HARRY: Mr. Diggory, as you know, I sympathize with your efforts to memorialize Cedric. You'll find no greater advocate and no one who wishes more than I do that we could somehow have prevented his death, but —

AMOS frowns, confused.

AMOS: A memorial? I am not interested in a memorial — not anymore. I am an old man — an old dying man — and I am here to ask you — beg you — to help me get him back.

HARRY grows rigid. He gradually separates them by a few feet. His head tips downward in a posture of regret. His words, however, are unmistakably sharp.

HARRY (repeating himself, more clearly): I am sorry, but you are misinformed. Whatever you've heard, the Theodore Nott story is a fiction, Amos, I'm sorry. There is no Time-Turner.

AMOS DIGGORY's expression hardens. He looks at HARRY, trying to figure him out. AMOS lowers himself to meet HARRY's gaze. A long moment of grief and realization passes.

AMOS (his voice twitching with devastation): You lie. Which means you will not help me. And... all is lost.

HARRY moves forward to console him, to rectify the situation, to say something. Anything that could offset the man's ageless suffering. HARRY lifts a comforting hand, but AMOS is done. He turns his back to HARRY and exits, discarding his cap absentmindedly. HARRY approaches the ivy cap and bends to retrieve it. Standing, he looks off. The guilt he feels is conveyed in each movement and expression until DELPHI approaches.

DELPHI: How awful.

HARRY turns and collects himself.

HARRY: Heard that, did you?

DELPHI: His son was Cedric Diggory, the one who died alongside you during the Triwizard Tournament. We learned about him in History of Magic. Such a tragedy.

The two of them progress very slowly down the hall.

But a Time-Turner? That's ludicrous. They were obliterated at the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, everyone knows that.

HARRY: That was true until someone fashioned another from the debris.

HARRY taps his jacket pocket. DELPHI's mouth hangs open in shock. HARRY nods, still overcome by the truth of it all.

DELPHI: You can't be serious. What will you do with it?

HARRY: Give it to the Minister, assuming it will be destroyed.

DELPHI: Destroyed? Seems an awful waste.

HARRY (in his best, Lockhartian voice): No, it's time that time-turning became a thing of the past.

DELPHI (embarrassed for him): You're quite proud of that phrase, aren't you?

HARRY: Been working on it all day.

DELPHI (shaking her head): I don't know how you're able to joke at a time like this. (beat) So, the device came from the man you interrogated?

HARRY: Yes, he's a strange one. Former Death Eater, works in the Department of Mysteries.

DELPHI: What did he have to say?

HARRY: Nothing. Nothing important, that is. He has clearly lost his mind. That's what fiddling with time can do to a person. But I will say this — I've been through hundreds of interrogations. That was the first time I felt like I was sitting in the wrong chair.

DELPHI: Acquiring such a device... Are we sending him to Azkaban?

HARRY: Theodore Nott? He's harmless. And I'm up to my neck as it is in paperwork. (HARRY wheezes humorously) If I'm being totally honest, I want to keep my eye on him. He told me some things that, well... let's just say, it could be helpful to keep in touch with someone who may or may not know what's coming. (beat) Are the Aurors tracking Finch-Fletchley?

DELPHI: I sent only the best. And we have good news from Rowley. His contact from Knockturn Alley is prepared to turn informant.

HARRY: The one from The Unfoppish Tattooist? Has he confirmed what we thought about the Tempest?

DELPHI (nodding): The reason we've been having such difficulty locating their compound is that they can communicate through the mark of the Augurey. And if we're being monitored or, as you feared, infiltrated by a spy at the Ministry, they're likely warning them of our movements.

In silence, they walk the rest of the corridor toward HARRY's office.

HARRY: Why do I have the feeling this is going to be an eventful month?

HARRY's expression turns as he spots a familiar owl perched on the torch bracket outside his office door, a dirty, weather-worn envelope in its grasp. The owl perks up when it sees HARRY approaching. We are to believe that this is the same owl that distracted HARRY a year earlier on platform nine and three-quarters. There is a swift intake of breath.

HARRY (pointing, instantly agitated): No! I told you to stop coming around here! Get lost!

HARRY shoos the owl away with his hands. It slumps miserably, spreads its wings, and takes flight. DELPHI is saddened by this. She has something she wants to say but is reluctant to speak.

DELPHI: Harry —

HARRY (pleadingly): Don't.

DELPHI (off HARRY's look): You have to read it eventually.

HARRY: I...I don't have to do... anything.

DELPHI: But Teddy might have....

HARRY: Stop!

Suddenly miserable, HARRY unveils his wand and launches a spell at the pile of owl feathers that have collected on the floor near his office. They blast away powerfully — too powerfully — and all of a sudden the door to his office starts rattling violently in place. HARRY reaches for the handle, trying to stop the commotion. The door hammers him back and forth, with a life of its own. DELPHI aims her wand at the door and the rattling stops. HARRY looks dismally down at his wand and stows it in his pocket.

HARRY: The ironic thing is... I didn't expect it to work. I'm terrible at that spell.

DELPHI: You can't keep going like this, Harry.

HARRY: I'm getting along fine. It'll just take some getting used to. And, if not, I'll try another wand.

DELPHI: That would make seven in three years.

HARRY: Then it shall be lucky number seven.

DELPHI: What about the Elder Wand? Why not use it to fix your broken wand again?

HARRY: That is in Dumbledore's Tomb...which will go undisturbed forever. I've made sure of that.

DELPHI (impatient): There's a perfectly good wand in your office. I don't understand why you won't use it.

HARRY: Delphi, we've talked about this.

DELPHI: The history you have with that wand, the connection you shared. It's the perfect match. It even has the same phoenix tail core...

HARRY: I won't. Not ever.

DELPHI: But why? I know you, Harry. If you didn't want to use that wand, you would've turned it in after the raid on Dolohov's safehouse. You could've involved the Minister, or sold it to Draco Malfoy. You said he made an offer to buy it a few years back. Instead, you held onto that wand and kept it a secret. Why not use it? What are you afraid of?

HARRY (hopelessly): That it'll work perfectly.

DELPHI: Why is that not a good thing?

HARRY (looking unbearably distraught): Because... if Voldemort's old wand works better than any other... it'll make me anxious to find out if some part of him has never left me. Or, worse, never will.

There is a quiet moment between HARRY and DELPHI. It's filled with looks of apprehension and unexpressed emotion. That is until a STUMPY MINISTRY OFFICIAL comes waddling toward them with something small in hand.

STUMPY MINISTRY OFFICIAL: Mister Potter — as you requested.

He offers the item to HARRY who releases a deep breath. HARRY's expression softens and he gestures to DELPHI.

HARRY: Don't give it to me. She's the one who earned it.

DELPHI, timid and eager, reaches for the item. It is flat and fits in the palm of her hand.

DELPHI: What's this?

HARRY (smirking): I thought I'd get you a little something. Make it official.

DELPHI is beaming as she takes the item from her hand and pins it to her chest. It is a gleaming silver badge. HARRY is brimming with pride. Across the stage, GINNY enters.

Delphini Drake, you are hereby appointed to the role of Second In Command to the Prime Enforcer. That is, well, me.

DELPHI: Thank you so much, sir. I won't let you down!

HARRY (amused): Sir?

DELPHI: Oh, Harry...!

HARRY laughs as DELPHI throws her arms around him. When she lets go, DELPHI kisses his cheek. It's an awkward, but joyous moment for them both. They silently look at one another, grinning and equally grateful to enjoy a fortunate moment during a difficult day. That moment is dampened seconds later when both of them notice that GINNY is watching. She does not look pleased.