ALBUS: Wanted to hold it too? Okay. Done. Let’s hope it brings me luck. I certainly need some.
He touches the blanket.
But you should keep it.
HARRY: I think — believe — Petunia wanted me to have it, that’s why she kept it, and now I want you to have it from me. I didn’t really know my mother — but I think she’d have wanted you to have it too. And maybe — I could come find you — and it — on Hallows’ Eve. I’d like to be with it on the night they died — and that could be good for the two of us . . .
ALBUS: Listen, I’ve got quite a lot of packing to do, and you undoubtedly have Ministry work coming out of your ears, so . . .
HARRY: Albus, I want you to have the blanket.
ALBUS: And do what with it? Fairy wings make sense, Dad, invisibility cloaks, they also make sense — but this — really?
HARRY is slightly heartbroken. He looks at his son, desperate to reach out.
HARRY: Do you want a hand? Packing. I always loved packing. It meant I was leaving Privet Drive and going back to Hogwarts. Which was . . . well, I know you don’t love it but . . .
ALBUS: For you, it’s the greatest place on earth. I know. The poor orphan, bullied by his uncle and aunt Dursley . . .
HARRY: Albus, please — can we just —
ALBUS: . . . traumatized by his cousin, Dudley, saved by Hogwarts. I know it all, Dad. Blah, blah, blah.
HARRY: I’m not going to rise to your bait, Albus Potter.
ALBUS: The poor orphan who went on to save us all. So may I say — on behalf of wizarding kind — how grateful we are for your heroism. Should we bow now or will a curtsy do?
HARRY: Albus, please — you know, I’ve never wanted gratitude.
ALBUS: But right now I’m overflowing with it — it must be the kind gift of this moldy blanket that did it . . .
HARRY: Moldy blanket?
ALBUS: What did you think would happen? We’d hug. I’d tell you I always loved you. What? What?
HARRY (finally losing his temper): You know what? I’m done with being made responsible for your unhappiness. At least you’ve got a dad. Because I didn’t, okay?
ALBUS: And you think that was unlucky? I don’t.
HARRY: You wish me dead?
ALBUS: No! I just wish you weren’t my dad.
HARRY (seeing red): Well, there are times I wish you weren’t my son.
There’s a silence. ALBUS nods. Pause. HARRY realizes what he’s said.
No, I didn’t mean that . . .
ALBUS: Yes. You did.
HARRY: Albus, you just know how to get under my skin . . .
ALBUS: You meant it, Dad. And, honestly, I don’t blame you.
There’s a horrible pause.
You should probably leave me alone now.
HARRY: Albus, please . . .
ALBUS picks up the blanket and throws it. It collides with RON’s love potion, which spills all over the blanket and the bed, producing a small puff of smoke.
ALBUS: No luck or love for me, then.
ALBUS runs out of the room. HARRY goes after him.
HARRY: Albus. Albus . . . Please . . .
ACT ONE, SCENE EIGHT
DREAM, HUT-ON-THE-ROCK
There’s a LARGE BOOM. Then there’s a LARGE CRASH. DUDLEY DURSLEY, AUNT PETUNIA, and UNCLE VERNON are cowering behind a bed.
DUDLEY DURSLEY: Mum, I don’t like this.
AUNT PETUNIA: I knew we made a mistake coming here. Vernon. Vernon. There’s nowhere we can hide. Not even a lighthouse is far enough away!
There’s another LARGE BOOM.
UNCLE VERNON: Hold on. Hold on. Whatever it is, it’s not coming in here.
AUNT PETUNIA: We’re cursed! He’s cursed us! The boy has cursed us! (Seeing YOUNG HARRY.) This is all your fault. Get back in your hole.
YOUNG HARRY flinches away as UNCLE VERNON holds out his rifle.
UNCLE VERNON: Whoever’s there, I should warn you — I’m armed.
There’s a MASSIVE SMASH. And the door falls off its hinges. HAGRID stands in the middle of the doorway. He looks at them all.
HAGRID: Couldn’t make us a cup o’ tea, could yeh? It’s not been an easy journey.
DUDLEY DURSLEY: Look. At. Him.
UNCLE VERNON: Stand back. Stand back. Behind me, Petunia. Behind me, Dudley. I’ll soon see this scarramanger off.
HAGRID: Scarrawhat?
He picks up UNCLE VERNON’s gun.
Haven’t seen one of these for a while.
He twists the end of the gun and ties it in a knot.
Oops-a-daisy.
And then he gets distracted. He’s seen YOUNG HARRY.
Harry Potter.
YOUNG HARRY: Hello.
HAGRID: Las’ time I saw yeh, yeh was only a baby. Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh’ve got yer mum’s eyes.
YOUNG HARRY: You knew my parents?
HAGRID: Where’s me manners? A very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here — I mighta sat on it at some point, but it’ll taste all right.
From inside his coat he pulls a slightly squashed chocolate cake with “Happy Birthday Harry” written on it in green icing.
YOUNG HARRY: Who are you?
HAGRID (laughing): True, I haven’t introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. (He looks around himself.) What about that tea, then, eh? I’d not say no ter summat stronger if yeh’ve got it, mind.
YOUNG HARRY: Hogwhere?
HAGRID: Hogwarts. Yeh’ll know all about Hogwarts, o’ course.
YOUNG HARRY: Er — no. Sorry.
HAGRID: Sorry? It’s them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren’t gettin’ yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn’t even know abou’ Hogwarts, fer cryin’ out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learnt it all?
YOUNG HARRY: Learnt what?
HAGRID turns menacingly towards UNCLE VERNON.
HAGRID: Do you mean ter tell me, that this boy — this boy! — knows nothin’ abou’ — about ANYTHING?
UNCLE VERNON: I forbid you to tell the boy anything more!
YOUNG HARRY: Tell me what?
HAGRID looks at UNCLE VERNON and then at YOUNG HARRY.
HAGRID: Harry — yer a wizard — yeh changed everything. Yer the most famous wizard in the whole world.
And then, right from the back of the room, whispering around everyone.
Words said with an unmistakable voice. The voice of VOLDEMORT . . .
Haaarry Pottttter.
ACT ONE, SCENE NINE
HARRY AND GINNY POTTER’S HOUSE, BEDROOM
HARRY wakes suddenly. Breathing deeply in the night.
He waits a moment. Calming himself. And then he feels intense pain in his forehead. In his scar. Around him, Dark Magic moves.
GINNY: Harry . . .
HARRY: It’s fine. Go back to sleep.