DIAGON ALLEY, WEASLEY'S WIZARD WHEEZES — YEAR 5

The scenery finishes its rotation. It's dusk along Diagon Alley, after hours. The shop lights are on, but the shops look less lively. It's three years later. And a much different time. VOLDEMORT's return is felt by the audience, and a life has already been claimed. There are wanted posters in the windows with the words "MASS BREAKOUT" above the moving images of many violent, expressive faces, including that of BELLATRIX LESTRANGE.

HARRY, RON, and HERMIONE walk along the quiet lane. As HERMIONE moves ahead, the men have a chance to talk.

RON: She looked wonderful, Harry. So full of life. Innocent. But fiery, you know? If I were you I'd be desperate to talk to her. And you controlled yourself.

HARRY: I wouldn't know what to say. "Hello, Ginny. It's me, Harry Potter. We're going to be married when all this nonsense is done."

Beat, they laugh.

I miss my wife, but that wasn't her. Ginny was so much more to me as a woman. She was...

RON: Ginny.

HARRY: Yeah.

HERMIONE comes to a stop. She points to the shop on the corner. The facade looks plain, the windows darkened.

HERMIONE: This is the one. Ninety-three Diagon Alley. Bit plain.

RON: It was an apothecary before they bought the property.

HARRY: You'd never suspect this to be the future home of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

He approaches the front door.

Shall we?

RON: I wouldn't. This is Fred and George we're talking about. (beat) Round back. There's a door.

HERMIONE uses magic to move a rubbish bin and an abandoned vendor cart to reveal a flight of stairs. RON mounts the stairs to the side door. He gets to work on the lock as HARRY and HERMIONE stand by. A wizard passes. They greet him. He growls. RON stows his wand proudly.

Cracked the spell. I mean, it's pretty basic. They were kids at the time.

HERMIONE: Unless they want you to lower your guard, that is.

The façade opens like a book to reveal the interior of the joke shop, as the trio cautiously enters. They are in a storeroom on the second floor. The rooms beyond them are darkened, including everything on the floor below. The storeroom is full of stacked crates and signage covered in plastic sheeting. The wild and colorful details can still be seen, with labels like "DAYDREAM CHARMS", "DECOY DETONATORS", and "EDIBLE DARK MARKS". Hanging from the ceiling is a massive cage full of pinkish fuzzballs, squeaking, bouncing, and whirling in place.

RON: Pygmy Puffs! They stopped breeding them.

HERMIONE: For good reason.

HARRY: They were migrating to the tropics.

HERMIONE (off RON's look): Don't even think about it.

RON shrugs and looks around.

RON: Pretty lax security here, isn't there?

HERMIONE points to the crates across the room. In purple lettering, the word "WonderWitch" flashes at them in exciting bursts.

HERMIONE: Love potion.

HARRY (reading the label): "A WonderWitch product."

They approach the crates. RON does his best impression of a young and chipper salesclerk as he lifts the lid and pockets one of the bottles.

RON: "Best range of love potions you'll find anywhere, Ron-ol'-boy. No samples."

RON enjoys the memory. His wide smile is infectious. He looks down the line of crates and supplies, all waiting for the grand opening of their famous joke shop.

Damn, I miss the two of them.

HERMIONE: George is still alive, Ron.

HARRY: Not completely. Part of him was lost — forever. No one should live like that.

HARRY looks suddenly distraught.

Why am I allowed to have a second chance when George...? And after I refused to help Amos...?

He sighs.

It's not fair.

HERMIONE: Yes, it is. Your future was taken from you. The sense of relief we had after the Battle of Hogwarts, the lives you and Ginny had hoped to build for your children. That was stolen, plagiarized, and rewritten by people who never knew the real Harry Potter. And now's our chance to make it right. I truly believe that. We both do.

HERMIONE looks back at RON, who is busy peeking through the different crates.

RON: You want a snack for the journey?

HERMIONE: Ron. We're off sweets.

HARRY: We've got the love potion, mate. In and out, remember?

RON (to HERMIONE): Come on.

HERMIONE takes out the torn book page from her pocket, her stony expression speaking volumes.

Oh, all right.

HERMIONE: Mm-hmm.

RON: Don't worry, I haven't touched anything.

HARRY: Well, there's no time for a tour — we have a lot more to gather. Where to?

HERMIONE: Hogwarts. Fourth Year. I say we Apparate to the grounds and find a good hiding spot in the forest. Then use the Time-Turner. The Triwizard Tournament will be in full swing and we don't want to —

THWAPP! A trapdoor suddenly opens and our heroes plummet to the floor below, shouting as they fall. It's pitch black! We can't see anything, and neither can they.

HERMIONE: Is everyone okay?

HARRY (strained): Yeah, I can't move.

RON: Same here. Something's got hold of me.

HERMIONE: Ronald! What have you done?

There's a silence.

Answer me.

RON: I, uh, I opened a package of sweets. Something which has — in all my years on this planet — never been a particularly dangerous activity. I only took one — for Hugo. I think it's a Puking Pastille or something similarly vomit-inducing.

HARRY (with chagrin): Ron...

HERMIONE: Fantastic! The thoughts that pass through that skull of yours... I swear...!

RON: How was I supposed to know they put in a trapdoor?

HERMIONE: Because it's Fred and George!

HARRY (his voice steady): Hermione, can you reach your wand?

HERMIONE: I can't.

HARRY: Ron, what about the Time-Turner?

RON: Trying. (beat) Yes, that's good.

He grunts.

That's less good.

HERMIONE: Work faster!

RON: It's no use. Can't move.

HARRY: So, what do we do now?

HERMIONE: There's got to be something we can do. Just — think.

RON: Hermione, will you please stop hitting me?

HERMIONE: I'm not hitting you.

RON: You are hitting me, and it hurts.

HERMIONE: How? I can't even move.

RON: Well, something is hitting me?!

An abrupt flare of blinding light shines down on their faces and we can see that HARRY, RON, and HERMIONE are being held in place by many loose, disjoined hands. The audience can faintly detect EXTRAS on stage in full-body black suits with only their hands exposed. One of the hands is knocking on RON's head as if it were rapping on a door. The trio look around, alarmed by the situation in which they find themselves.

HERMIONE: Okay, so that's utterly horrible.

HARRY: I think I preferred the dark.

An animated voice, like a CIRCUS BARKER, is heard. Followed by a tiny, more SINISTER VOICE.

CIRCUS BARKER: Come one, come all! That's right, witches and lizards. Nothing to fear. I'm here now.

SINISTER VOICE: Here just as the battle is lost.

CIRCUS BARKER: Wow. Quite a ride. Yes, oh yes. But just you wait. There's more! You have to see it to believe it.

SINISTER VOICE: You'll never forget.

HARRY: I don't like the sound of this.

RON: Shh! Pay attention. Trust me.

HERMIONE struggles against the unrelenting grip of the hands.

CIRCUS BARKER: Step right up, don't be shy.

SINISTER VOICE: Don't be too confident either.

CIRCUS BARKER: Greet the wonder of the century, come from a distant land. Here he is... the most mysterious of sorcerers...

Another light comes up on a puppet sitting on a brightly colored box, almost carnival in its appearance. The puppet is wearing a turban and stares at them. Its legs are crossed casually. Its arms are crossed casually. It speaks with the SINISTER VOICE. We recognize this puppet instantly as the one GEORGE brought to GINNY's funeral in the future.

SINISTER VOICE: WIZZO!

HERMIONE: Oh, no...

SINISTER VOICE: You've come to steal. To pilfer. To filch. So make me a deal, lest you exit with zilch.

The puppet turns its head slowly to look at each of them.

HERMIONE: That's not at all disturbing.

HARRY: What's the deal?

SINISTER VOICE: To break free, my fool. You must play a game. There is but one rule. Please tell me my name. Your circumstances, I must address. You have ninety chances to make your guess. So be wise, dear thief, and take your time, for you will not leave if —

RON (simply): Panju. Your name's Panju.

The puppet's mouth drops open. All the hands release them.

PANJU (less SINISTER, more CARNIVAL BARKER): How... How'd you know my name?!

The puppet flops in place as the hands recede into the darkness.

HERMIONE: I don't think I would've ever guessed that name.

RON: Never liked that puppet. And here I thought he was a new addition to the family after Fred died.

The puppet's mouth drops open again.

PANJU (shocked): Master Fred is dead?!

RON: No, not yet.

PANJU (more shocked): When?

RON: Shut it, Panju!

HARRY: Ron, don't anger the puppet.

PANJU (gasping): How ill-mannered! How utterly uncouth!

HERMIONE (to PANJU): We've solved your riddle. How do we get out of here?

The puppet frowns.

PANJU: Frankly, I'm offended... Auf wiedersehen...

The room goes dark.

HARRY: Wait! Panju!

The lights come back on for only a moment.

PANJU (head craning madly): I said AUF WIEDERSEHEN!

The stage goes dark. We can't see the trio again.

RON: Now what?

HERMIONE: Relax. Both of you, come close. Hand me the Time-Turner.

There's a whooshing noise. And then there's a sucking sound. And a BANG. The lights come back. It's the same scene, but different. PANJU is gone. The storeroom on the second floor is empty except for a massive cauldron and a heap of logs. HARRY, RON, and HERMIONE are standing in a room with many shelves of potion bottles — and a ladder!

HARRY: The apothecary. When... are we?

HERMIONE: Fourth year.

RON rubs his forehead where one of the hands was knocking in the dark.

RON: Hogwarts, then?

They nod and climb the ladder.

Fade to black