DREAM, HOGWARTS, DOLORES UMBRIDGE'S OFFICE AND ELSEWHERE

Stage lights illuminate an office at Hogwarts. Every surface is decorated with a lace doily and dried flowers in polished vases, the walls are tiled with ornamental dinner plates of posh kittens. YOUNG HARRY sits at a small desk in the corner, flinching as he scrawls lines across parchment. It's painful, he takes it. Standing watch nearby is DOLORES UMBRIDGE — forties with bulging eyes, wearing a fluffy pink cardigan, a black velvet bow atop her head. UMBRIDGE approaches YOUNG HARRY, a self-satisfied look on her face.

UMBRIDGE: Hand.

HARRY extends his left arm. UMBRIDGE takes hold of his hand and inspects it, her voice horribly honeyed.

I don't seem to have made much of an impression, Mister Potter. We'll just have to try again tomorrow, won't we?

UMBRIDGE drops his hand and he rubs the back of it with a weakened expression. YOUNG HARRY stands, he is in a lot of pain.

YOUNG HARRY: Professor Umbridge, how long must I... write lines?

UMBRIDGE (sweetly): Oh, as long as it takes for the message to — sink in.

YOUNG HARRY: But, surely, Quidditch —

An absurdly wide smile spreads across her face. Her voice grows sweeter by the second.

UMBRIDGE: Oh, no. No, no, no, Mister Potter. Detention certainly cannot be adjusted to suit the guilty one's convenience. You are being punished for spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories.

UMBRIDGE holds up a copy of The Quibbler. YOUNG HARRY no longer looks weakened. In fact, he looks ready to explode. UMBRIDGE watches in hopeful anticipation.

Now, off you go.

YOUNG HARRY takes a deep breath and begins to leave the office when she adds a final thought.

There. We're getting better at controlling our temper already.

He stops and turns back, taking the bait.

YOUNG HARRY:  I'm not telling "evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories". Voldemort has returned.

UMBRIDGE clears her throat with an almost bird-like chirp. She offers him her fakest smile.

UMBRIDGE: No. He hasn't. You killed him.

YOUNG HARRY: He killed Cedric. I saw it happen.

UMBRIDGE: You must be mistaken.

YOUNG HARRY (in a full-throated shout): It was VOLDEMORT!

UMBRIDGE (losing her calm): You — Must — Not — Tell — LIES!

The room transforms around them, becoming darker and more desperate. Then the sweeter version of UMBRIDGE returns.

As I was saying, you are misinforming your fellow students that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead. This is a lie.

YOUNG HARRY (his voice trembling): It is NOT a lie! I saw him, I fought him! And my wife is dead because of it!

UMBRIDGE: Ginny Potter's death was a tragic accident.

YOUNG HARRY: I was there! Voldemort is alive and you know it!

UMBRIDGE (without flinching): Ten points from Gryffindor.

YOUNG HARRY has had enough. He enters the black void beyond UMBRIDGE's office and then starts to run, shrouded in a halo of dim blue light.

Mister Potter, come back here! I'm not finished with you!

He looks back, acting like UMBRIDGE is tailing him, as her office goes dark. Flashing blue lights fill the stage giving it an almost ethereal glow. And suddenly PEEVES — the "greatest Poltergeist on earth" (his words, not mine) — is onstage, and... well... he's having a ball. PEEVES is hovering at the front with a big smile on his face, juggling bottles of glowing potion while floating on his back. YOUNG HARRY glances over his shoulder, he and PEEVES are alone. PEEVES notices YOUNG HARRY, grins, and stops juggling. The bottles hit the ground and explode in a thousand pieces. YOUNG HARRY flinches away as a thick fog spreads across the stage from whatever was contained in those bottles.

PEEVES (cackling): Why, it's Potty Wee Potter! He's breaking things. Or someone's playing a trick. Some rapscallion with too much time on her hands. We should tell someone about this...

YOUNG HARRY: Shut it, Peeves. I haven't the time.

PEEVES rises effortlessly into the air — full of excitement.

PEEVES: He hasn't the time! He hasn't the time! Ooh, Crackpot's feeling cranky. What's it this time, my fine Potty friend?

PEEVES ascends further into the air, dancing around YOUNG HARRY.

Hearing voices? Seeing visions? Speaking in...

He leers at HARRY and blows a gigantic raspberry.

...tongues?

And there's a whisper in Parseltongue. It travels fast around the audience.

YOUNG HARRY: I said, leave me ALONE!

He starts running again — running into the black shadows of the stage — as PEEVES rises into the air above him, into the shadows.

PEEVES (singing): Oh, most think he's barking, the potty wee lad — but some are more kindly and think he's just sad — but Peevesy knows better and says that he's mad!

YOUNG HARRY: SHUT UP!

YOUNG HARRY looks back. PEEVES has disappeared. Now a door becomes visible. A large, freestanding wooden door. It is strangely worn and weathered — nothing at all like the doors one could find at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. YOUNG HARRY rushes to the door as the cackling of PEEVES is heard from off. YOUNG HARRY nervously tries the handle. The door doesn't move. He bangs on the door with his fist.

BOOM!

Nothing. He tries again.

There's another LARGE BOOM.

Then YOUNG HARRY takes a step back and slams his shoulder into the door. There's a MASSIVE SMASH. And the door falls off its hinges. It hits the ground, producing a small puff of smoke.

The stage contorts and walls rise as the dream twists into something else entirely. Dim firelight illuminates a new space beyond the door. YOUNG HARRY is no longer at Hogwarts. His face comes alive with recollection. YOUNG HARRY is at the Hut on the Rock — a small, squalid place with a dirt floor, there's a fire in the hearth, broken stairs lead to an unseen second level.

And we watch a familiar scene from YOUNG HARRY's childhood replayed. It is the same, but so different. ALBUS is sleeping on the floor, SCORPIUS on the sofa. YOUNG HARRY is in the position of HAGRID, and he has just broken down the door. The boys are startled awake. ALBUS and SCORPIUS are looking at YOUNG HARRY, apprehensively.

YOUNG HARRY: Al, what are you doing here?

ALBUS (frightened, but curious): Who are you?

DRACO (from off): Who's there? I warn you — I'm armed!

YOUNG HARRY knows this voice. DRACO travels down the stairs. He thinks and then walks up to YOUNG HARRY, taking out his wand as he does. YOUNG HARRY steps back, scared.

YOUNG HARRY: Draco, it's me — Harry. (to ALBUS) Al, it's Dad.

ALBUS looks carefully at SCORPIUS. Neither boy knows quite how to reply.

DRACO: I demand that you leave at once, sir! You are breaking and entering!

ALBUS: I'm sorry, but I don't really know who you are.

YOUNG HARRY: Al — you're a Potter.

ALBUS: I'm a what?

YOUNG HARRY: A Potter.

YOUNG HARRY looks suddenly confused.

Where's Hagrid? He'll explain everything.

He takes a step further into the Hut. DRACO moves in front of the boys. ALBUS stays put.

DRACO: Stop right there, sir!

YOUNG HARRY: Al, come back with me. Come home.

DRACO: He's not going.

YOUNG HARRY: But he's a Potter, like his mother and father.

DRACO: His mother is dead. His father might as well have died in a car crash.

YOUNG HARRY looks at DRACO and then at ALBUS, who stands. He seems less confused.

ALBUS: Why did you lock me away? Why are you always hurting me?

YOUNG HARRY: I was protecting you. I did not want to hurt you. Please, leave with me.

DRACO aims his wand at YOUNG HARRY.

DRACO: I am not allowing some Crackpot old fool to care for my son!

YOUNG HARRY: But he's not your son!

DRACO: He should be.

SCORPIUS stands. He joins ALBUS and DRACO.

SCORPIUS: Why have you come here?

YOUNG HARRY points in another direction.

YOUNG HARRY: I heard screaming, I had to come.

DRACO: Stop! I forbid you to tell them anything more!

ALBUS: But why — here?

YOUNG HARRY (he hesitates): There's nowhere else.

DRACO: I'm warning you, Potter — I'm warning you — one more word...

ALBUS (calmly): You're getting it now. You're good at this.

YOUNG HARRY: I am? Then why does it feel like I'm always confused?

ALBUS: Wake up, Dad.

YOUNG HARRY: What time is it?

DRACO: Time enough.

DRACO hits YOUNG HARRY with a spell that sounds like a rifle going off. The small fire goes out in the hearth as YOUNG HARRY is blasted back through the door. The Hut grows dark. The door SLAMS shut.

YOUNG HARRY: Al... ALBUS!!

He is gone. And YOUNG HARRY is alone.

DRACO (from off): Just what I expected. Always knew he'd come to a sticky end.