"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...
They have arrived, still at the edge of the woods. HARRY checks that the jar of Polyjuice Potion is done fighting him. He safely puts the jar on the ground. HERMIONE is pleased, but only for a moment. There is a low and uneasy chorus of voices singing. The sky is darker, the lights of the Triwizard Tournament are gone, and everything else looks the same. Or does it? RON appears uncertain.
RON: So? Has it worked?
HARRY (slowly, gravely): Can't you feel them?
HERMIONE: The Dementors. I never noticed. The difference is unmistakable.
HARRY: It's in the air. The disparity. Everything is just...
RON: Thinner.
HARRY's face wilts.
HARRY: No wonder... My son was living with this feeling every day for twenty years.
HERMIONE: That's never going to happen. Much of the work is done. We've already got the Polyjuice and the Indian peacock feather. Extracting the pearl dust from the love potion shouldn't be difficult.
RON takes out the list.
RON: All we've got left is the powdered Scarabax shell and a bit of teenage Malfoy.
HERMIONE: And don't forget the —
Something distracts HERMIONE. She checks her watch.
It's twenty minutes to midnight. Look.
They see a broad-shouldered man dressed all in black, a shiny axe attached to his belt – WALDEN MACNAIR. He is entering the forest, snarling. They hide from view.
HARRY: It's that executioner. Macnair.
RON: This is all too weird.
HERMIONE: I do recall seeing him leave the castle just before we flew off with Buckbeak. He's gathering the Dementors for The Kiss. This is a very dangerous time to be dawdling, Harry.
HARRY: I realize that. But this is our best chance at getting those Scarabax shells. There are molted Hippogriff feathers scattered all over the forest. Problem is, Hagrid celebrates Buckbeak's escape with a little too much Firewhisky and bins most of 'em by morning.
The Time-Turner unexpectedly glows and bangs. HARRY, RON, and HERMIONE look concerned.
RON: That can't be good.
HARRY: Repeated use. Theodore Nott mentioned that the Time-Turner might require a recharge.
Beat, he looks at it closely.
We're good for now, but one of our next trips is certain to delay things a bit.
HARRY puts the device away and takes the Marauders Map out of his pocket. He opens it up. The map is lit into action.
RON: Let's get on with it then, yeah? How many of these feathers do we need?
HERMIONE: That's the thing, isn't it? We should've gone for the book first — Professor Quirrell's library. We need the proper formula.
HARRY(still consulting the map): Then fill your pockets. Gather more than we could ever need. He was tied up in Hagrid's pumpkin patch. It's as good a place as any to start.
HARRY folds the map and walks toward the castle.
RON: Wait... Where are you going?
HARRY: Sirius Black is locked in Professor Flitwick's office on the seventh floor. Hermione and I are about to break him out. Thought I could watch. See my godfather one last time.
HERMIONE looks suspicious. The chorus of eerie voices somehow seems to expand.
Anyone object?
HERMIONE (eyes to slits): Harry — I think we should stay together.
RON: We can handle this, Hermione. Let him go.
RON thinks. He looks over at the map and identifies where they should be. HARRY looks around.
RON (pointing): West Tower. Thirteenth window from the right.
HARRY: Thanks.
HERMIONE watches HARRY as he appears to exit. RON urges her toward the forest and the two of them exit. Then, to our surprise, HARRY reappears, Time-Turner in hand. He looks up at the castle. There is a crash of light — a ricochet of sound — and HARRY is gone. The subtle chorus depletes to nothing.
Cut to black
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