Harry Potter and the Cursed Child

ALBUS: Hello, Dad. Is something wrong?

HARRY looks at his son disbelievingly.

HARRY: Yes. You could say that.

ALBUS collapses onto the floor. HARRY and GINNY rush to help.

ACT TWO, SCENE EIGHT

HOGWARTS, HOSPITAL WING

ALBUS is asleep in a hospital bed. HARRY sits troubled beside him. Above them is a picture of a concerned kindly man. HARRY rubs his eyes — stands — and walks around the room. He stretches out his back.

And then he meets eyes with the painting. Which looks startled to be spotted. And HARRY looks startled back.

HARRY: Professor Dumbledore.

DUMBLEDORE: Good evening, Harry.

HARRY: I’ve missed you. Whenever I’ve dropped in on the headmistress lately, your frame’s been empty.

DUMBLEDORE: Ah, well, I do like to pop into my other portraits now and then. (He looks at ALBUS.) Will he be all right?

HARRY: He’s been out twenty-four hours, mostly in order so Madam Pomfrey could reset his arm. She said it was the strangest thing, it’s like it was broken twenty years ago and allowed to set in the “most contrary” of directions. She says he’ll be fine.

DUMBLEDORE: A difficult thing, I imagine, to watch your child in pain.

HARRY looks up at DUMBLEDORE, and then down at ALBUS.

HARRY: I’ve never asked how you felt about me naming him after you, have I?

DUMBLEDORE: Candidly, Harry, it seemed a great weight to place upon the poor boy.

HARRY: I need your help. I need your advice. Bane says Albus is in danger. How do I protect my son, Dumbledore?

DUMBLEDORE: You ask me, of all people, how to protect a boy in terrible danger? We cannot protect the young from harm. Pain must and will come.

HARRY: So I’m supposed to stand and watch?

DUMBLEDORE: No. You’re supposed to teach him how to meet life.

HARRY: How? He won’t listen.

DUMBLEDORE: Perhaps he’s waiting for you to see him clearly.

HARRY frowns as he tries to digest this.

(With sensitivity.) It is a portrait’s curse and blessing to . . . hear things. At the school, at the Ministry, I hear people talking . . .

HARRY: And what is the gossip about me and my son?

DUMBLEDORE: Not gossip. Concern. That you two are struggling. That he’s difficult. That he is angry with you. I have formed the impression that — perhaps — you are blinded by your love for him.

HARRY: Blinded?

DUMBLEDORE: You must see him as he is, Harry. You must look for what’s wounding him.

HARRY: Haven’t I seen him as he is? What’s wounding my son? (He thinks.) Or is it who’s wounding my son?

ALBUS (mumbles in his sleep): Dad . . .

HARRY: This black cloud, it’s someone, isn’t it? Not something?

DUMBLEDORE: Ah really, what does my opinion matter anymore? I am paint and memory, Harry, paint and memory. And I never had a son.

HARRY: But I need your advice.

ALBUS: Dad?

HARRY looks at ALBUS and then back at DUMBLEDORE. But DUMBLEDORE is gone.

HARRY: No, where have you gone now?

ALBUS: We’re in — the hospital wing?

HARRY turns his attention back to ALBUS.

HARRY (discombobulated): Yes. And you’re — you will be fine. For recuperation, Madam Pomfrey wasn’t sure what to prescribe and said you should probably eat lots of — chocolate. Actually, do you mind if I have some — ? I’ve got something to tell you and I don’t think you’ll like it.

ALBUS looks at his dad, what does he have to say? He decides not to engage.

ALBUS: Okay. I think.

HARRY takes some chocolate, he eats a big chunk. ALBUS looks at his dad, confused.

Better?

HARRY: Much.

He holds out the chocolate to his son. ALBUS takes a piece. Father and son munch together.

The arm, how does it feel?

ALBUS flexes his arm.

ALBUS: It feels great.

HARRY (soft): Where did you go, Albus? I can’t tell you what it did to us. Your mum was worried sick . . .

ALBUS looks up, he is a great liar.

ALBUS: We decided we didn’t want to come to school. We thought we could start again — in the Muggle world. We discovered we were wrong. We were coming back to Hogwarts when you found us.

HARRY: In Durmstrang robes?

ALBUS: The robes were . . . The whole thing — Scorpius and I — we didn’t think.