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.
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...
