HOGWARTS, THE GROUNDS —
YEAR 4

It is dusk. RON and HARRY stand at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The splendor of Hogwarts Castle takes up a quarter of the stage. In the distance, we can see bright lights illuminating the final task of the Triwizard Tournament.

RON: It's taking longer than I expected. I hope she's all right.

HARRY: She's fine. We have time.

RON: Delicate operation, this. Smart of Hermione to go it alone.

HARRY: I'd be too tempted to change things — knowing Cedric is living out his final minutes of life — with Voldemort about to return — the real Alastor Moody imprisoned in that trunk with the seven locks...

RON: We could stop all of that right now. If we wanted.

HARRY: And we'd decimate the future in the process. But not Hermione, she'll keep her head. Far better than we could. (he laughs) We're lucky to have her, aren't we?

RON: Immensely.

The silence between them is slightly awkward, and we are meant to remember that HARRY and RON had only recently made amends.

Remind me again, if Barty Crouch Jr. had enough potion in that flask for a year, why did he need Moody on hand in that trunk?

HARRY: Polyjuice has always been a bit unpredictable. Like with most tonics, there's a shelf life. Potency tends to suffer over time. My guess is that, by frequently adding another bit of Moody to the flask, Crouch was confident that his identity would remain hidden.

The sounds of the tournament rise in volume. And through it all, we hear the voice of LUDO BAGMAN.

BAGMAN (muffled, but energetic): — the greatest — the fabulous — the one — and the only TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT!

RON: Is that...?

HARRY: Ludo Bagman. (beat) Funny, I think I blocked most of this out. I was so nervous.

RON: We were nervous for you.

BAGMAN: ...from Hogwarts. Give me a cheer.

There's cheering. It rises and falls with his encouragement.

If you're from Durmstrang — give me a cheer. And if you're from Beauxbatons, give me a cheer. (beat) Slightly less enthusiastic from the French there, but all right. And there they are. I present to you — the reason why we're all here — THE CHAMPIONS.

There's a loud cheer

Representing Durmstrang, what a boy, it's Viktor Krum. From the Beauxbatons Academy — zut alors, it's Fleur Delacour! And from Hogwarts, not one but two students, Cedric Diggory and, wait for it... Harry Potter!

It is noticeable that the cheering for HARRY is slightly less than that for CEDRIC.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you — the final of the Triwizard tasks. The maze.

There's more cheering. It diminishes quickly.

And now — silence please, all. For this maze — it is home to many surprising things. And why risk this living nightmare? Because inside this maze is a Cup — and not just any Cup — yes, the Triwizard trophy stands within these hedges. The perils are plentiful, but the prizes are palpable. Who will fight their way through? Who will fall at the final hurdle? What heroes do we have within our midst? Only time will tell, ladies and gentlemen, only time will tell. (beat) Now let me remind you of the current standings! Tied in first place — Mister Cedric Diggory and Mister Harry Potter. In second place — Mister Viktor Krum! And in third place — sacré bleu, Miss Fleur Delacour.

The crowd stills. Somewhere beyond the trees, the final task has begun. HARRY and RON are looking fondly at the castle.

RON: Hogwarts looks the same. Never seen this view of it before. Or maybe I have.

HARRY: Still get a tingle, don't you? When you see it?

RON: Strange being back.

HARRY: Very. I wish we could join them.

RON: That's right. You never got to watch the tournament.

HARRY: I was in it.

RON: It's a shame it went the way it did. You deserved a chance. To win properly, I mean.

HARRY: No, Cedric was the better wizard. The Cup was his. That's why I gave it to Hufflepuff. But then Al...

HARRY lowers his head.

RON: We're fixing it, Harry. That's why we're doing this.

HARRY: I know.

RON: And you're wrong about Diggory. Sure, he was a cracking good Champion — Fred and George always liked him — but you were brilliant back then. Still are. It was an honor to be in your department, Harry. I know I should've listened to you better. Followed your lead...

HARRY: Not at all. Ron, it was me who should've listened. All this time, I only ever did what... what I thought was right. If you'd been there, things would've gone differently. I was a better leader with my best friend at my side. It was a mistake to let you go.

RON smiles faintly. HARRY said just what he needed to hear. HARRY smiles back. And then someone — somewhere — sniffs. RON sighs.

RON: Come out, Hermione.

There's a rippling in the trees as HERMIONE steps out from beneath the invisibility cloak. She was perfectly camouflaged.

HARRY: How long have you been standing there?

HERMIONE: Not long. I just... I didn't want to interrupt. You were being so —

RON (flippantly): Yeah, yeah... Have you got the hip flask?

HERMIONE: Yes.

HERMIONE looks askance at what she's carrying. It's a small glass jar of sludge. She taps the metal lid.

Mostly.

HARRY: Something went wrong, I presume?

HERMIONE: Or something went very right. As I walked through the crowd, I got to thinking... What if there's a defensive charm on the flask? We know it belonged to the real Moody. It was the only drinking vessel he would use, as I recall. What if I wasn't able to take it? Then I remembered what you said about Dumbledore proving to you that Moody was using Polyjuice. He poured some of it onto the floor.

HARRY: That's right! I'd forgotten.

HERMIONE: That told me two things. Firstly, that taking it from Crouch would affect the future. And secondly, that I could, at least, hold the flask and transfer some of it to another container.

RON: And there it is. Smashing, Hermione. So, where'd you get the jar?

HERMIONE: Hagrid's garden.

HARRY (in a shocked whisper): We almost made a complete cock-up of the thing.

HERMIONE (laughing): I know. And if the flask had a proximity tracker or something...

HERMIONE walks the covered jar over. She holds it out for them to see.

I would've gotten all the way down here... only to have it torn from my hand! Could you imagine?

HARRY laughs uncomfortably. He reaches for the jar — and then it is roughly YANKED out of HERMIONE's hand! HARRY stares as the jar flies off — into the wings of the stage! HERMIONE yips.

RON: What's wrong?

HARRY: No!

HERMIONE: I've lost it! I've lost the Polyjuice!

RON (jolted): You've lost— what?

HARRY: There WAS a proximity tracker! But on the potion itself!

RON: How?

HERMIONE (frantically): That doesn't matter — it's getting away! What do we do?

RON looks out anxiously. He raises his wand. HARRY stops him.

HARRY: If there's a counterspell to keep it from being summoned, you'll break the glass.

RON: It's not even flying in a straight line.

HARRY: Evasive measures... but eventually it'll get back to Crouch.

HERMIONE: There's no way he won't notice. This could change everything...

RON: We've got to stop it.

HERMIONE: If only we had a broomstick.

HARRY stares off at the castle. A gentle music rises, like an anthem.

HARRY (insightfully): We do.

He looks back at his friends.

And a bloody fast one at that.

HARRY raises his wand and shouts.

Accio Firebolt!

We hear the rush of HARRY's old broomstick. A moment later, it hurtles toward them and stops. HARRY swings his leg over, mounts the broom, and looks off into the distance.

RON: Good on you, mate.

HARRY: Wish me luck.

HERMIONE: You don't need it, Harry. It's not for nothing that you were the youngest Seeker in a century.

HARRY narrows his gaze and pushes off. The broomstick speeds him into the wings. We watch RON and HERMIONE's engaging expressions to see how well HARRY is progressing in his race to capture the jar.

HERMIONE: He can do it. He's advancing.

RON: Come on, Harry!

HERMIONE: Look! It's turning round!

We hear the sound of the broom approaching. Then HARRY soars into the auditorium, streaking after the jar of Polyjuice Potion, wind rustling his hair as he reaches out. This is HARRY POTTER at his finest! It is down to the chase and HARRY pulls many stunts and spins until he catches the jar midair. RON and HERMIONE cheer as if Gryffindor just won the Quidditch Cup.

RON: He caught it!

HERMIONE: Yes!

HARRY floats back down to the stage. He hardly steps off the broomstick before they embrace him like the Champion he is.

HARRY (out of breath): Thanks for believing in me. I had my doubts.

HERMIONE: You were impressive, but we've seen you on the pitch. There was rarely a Golden Snitch you couldn't catch.

RON (in awe): The Legendary Harry.

The jar of Polyjuice Potion rattles against HARRY's chest. It's fighting him.

HARRY: I can't hold it for much longer. We should go — don't you think?

HERMIONE: Yes. Let's get out of here before we're spotted.

The three of them cluster. HERMIONE reveals the Time-Turner. HARRY continues to struggle with the jar.

RON: Where are we headed?

HARRY: Third year — just before we saved Sirius and Buckbeak.

The Time-Turner spins.

HERMIONE: But the Firebolt...? Won't that affect the past?

HARRY nods to the distant lights of the tragic tournament, still in progress.

HARRY: I'm about to have a lot on my mind. Misplacing my broom will be the least of my worries.

And with that, flashes of light and booming sound take over the stage. Our heroes have succeeded in getting the Polyjuice Potion.