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: 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
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
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.
You should probably leave me alone now.
HARRY: Albus, please . . .
ALBUS: No luck or love for me, then.
HARRY: Albus. Albus . . . Please . . .
ACT ONE, SCENE EIGHT
DREAM, HUT-ON-THE-ROCK
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!
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!
UNCLE VERNON: Whoever’s there, I should warn you — I’m armed.
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?
Haven’t seen one of these for a while.
Oops-a-daisy.
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?