Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (The M. Clifford MOD)

Act 3: Scene 9

TRANSITION

There is a scream in the dark. A man's scream. It is chilling and unexpected. Lights come up on the office of the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, where HARRY is sleeping on a small sofa. The room is in complete disarray. MAN IN THE PORTRAIT is trying to wake HARRY.

MAN IN THE PORTRAIT: Mister Potter? Harry?

HARRY (groggily): What is it?

MAN IN THE PORTRAIT: Having a bit of a lie in, are we?

HARRY: Yes, for once. Why would you wake me?

MAN IN THE PORTRAIT: You were screaming, sir.

HARRY sits up. He rubs his face and stops his glasses from falling off his chest. He puts them on and walks, tired, into a crooked stack of books.

HARRY: They haven't stopped. The dreams.

MAN IN THE PORTRAIT: What dreams are those?

HARRY ignores the question. He packs his bag and prepares to walk out of the office and down the corridor. Then he stops and casts an eye on his desk. HARRY stares as if frozen.

Seeing if you've missed anything you shouldn't have?

HARRY: Quiet, Beggarsbush, or I'll set you on fire.

MAN IN THE PORTRAIT: Well, that's not right... of all the impudent...

The MAN IN THE PORTRAIT realizes he's overstepped. He offers HARRY a more considerate expression.

But then again, I always did have a soft spot for warmth. Warm blankets. Warm spot of tea.

HARRY slowly makes his way back to the desk. A spotlight radiates down upon the unassuming wand box where VOLDEMORT's original wand is stored. HARRY's chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. A haunting melody plays. Quiet at first, the music builds with each passing second as HARRY opens the box and reaches inside. The moment HARRY removes the wand, the spotlight bathes him with an ethereal shimmer. HARRY's eyes widen, he almost looks taller as he observes how the wand is reacting to his touch.

Mixed into the choral harmony comes a lone voice — it is soft, yet animated — keen to speak, yet prudent. It is the aged voice of OLLIVANDER, the wandmaker.

OLLIVANDER: "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mister Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother — why, its brother gave you that scar. (beat) Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. I think we must expect great things from you, Mister Potter. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great."

A smile forms, but it is gradually dashed with the receding glow. Then the entire office, HARRY included, turns 180 degrees while a massive wall with sets of adjoining stairs and platforms glides to center stage, like an elaborate fire escape. HARRY's office stops spinning to reveal that it has become the exterior of a magical bookstore. There is a brightly-colored poster in the window for the upcoming release of RITA SKEETER's book. The architecture correlates with the imposing wall at center stage. Upon each level of the wall is a different vignette, waiting to interact with someone.

HARRY enters. He is wearing a black coat with an open high collar that obscures his profile, his hair is wilder than ever, his scar stands out on a paler face, and in his hand is VOLDEMORT's wand. He approaches the ground level where, plastered violently in red paint across a wall of wanted posters, we read the familiar saying: "Blitzfanger Rises". HARRY leers at the graffiti and mounts the first flight of stairs.