MINISTRY OF MAGIC, INTERROGATION CHAMBER
We open on a thickly bricked, dungeon-like room. At the center, a polished wood table. There are two chairs across from one another and a single occupant — SUSPICIOUS MAN / THEODORE NOTT — elderly, with a long silvery beard and a jet-black cloak. His drawn expression is broken intermittently by irritated glares at the intensely bright bars of fluorescent light directly overhead.
The only door opens with a creak. HARRY enters casually. He draws back the chair and sets PERCIVAL's newspaper onto the table. Next to this, he drops a worn leather briefcase.
HARRY (dryly): Good afternoon. My name is Harry James Potter. I am the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. I'll be asking you a series of questions over the next few minutes. Please answer them honestly, and to the best of your ability. I will not be using Veritaserum. I will not be using Legilimency.
HARRY unlatches his briefcase, takes out a folder, an ink pot, and a feather quill. He sets the items beside the newspaper. HARRY makes eye contact with NOTT for the first time since King's Cross station. This is followed by a long silence, and we are to understand that this is part of HARRY's process when interrogating a suspect. The lights flicker, causing NOTT to wince. He gazes at the unused iron sconces.
NOTT: Would it be too much to ask? My eyes are — unacquainted with this sort of illumination.
HARRY reaches into his jacket and pulls out a wand. He sets it on the table delicately.
HARRY (entertaining himself): I would, but... my wand is rather glitchy these days. Untrustworthy. I fear I might accidentally set this building ablaze, were I to accommodate you. Besides... (Harry admires the long fluorescent bulbs) this is my preferred aesthetic. I grew up with Muggles and I've found over the years that the use of electric lighting tends to yield... favorable results.
HARRY unfolds the newspaper.
HARRY: The article in the Daily Prophet describes you as a retired bookseller. The patch on your robes, however, tells me that you are an Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries. Yet you own a house. How is that possible, I wonder? As I understand it, your sort aren't allowed to leave the Ministry.
NOTT: I've done many things my sort are not historically allowed to do.
HARRY: Can't say I'm surprised to hear that.
From the other side of his jacket, HARRY removes the Time-Turner. He sets it gently on the table, just out of reach.
Mind explaining this?
Another long and profound silence passes between them.
The raid of your home was due to repeated violations of the twenty-third and forty-seventh decrees of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts ordinance — illegal acquisition or display of inappropriately enchanted Muggle objects.
NOTT: A walking garden gnome.
HARRY: Yes. Which begs the question, why would you risk being exposed when there were all sorts of egregious breaches of wizarding law within your home? I can think of but two explanations. The first, that you are a foolish old man with a natural inclination toward acting rebelliously when lawn ornaments are involved. The second, that you wanted to be discovered. Or, more accurately, you wanted this Time-Turner to be discovered. Which is it?
Another long silence ensues. HARRY opens his folder abruptly, then uncorks the ink pot. He is losing patience.
Weasley's citation has you down as one (he reads) Theodore Nott. Can you confirm this?
YOU ARE READING
Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (The M. Clifford MOD)
Fanfiction"It was always difficult being Harry Potter and it isn't much easier now that he is an overworked employee of the Ministry of Magic, a husband, and the father of three school-age children. While Harry grapples with a past that refuses to stay where...
