Harry Potter and the Cursed Child

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A busy and crowded station. Full of people trying to go somewhere. Amongst the hustle and bustle, two large cages rattle on top of two laden trolleys. They’re being pushed by two boys, JAMES POTTER and ALBUS POTTER, their mother, GINNY, follows after. A thirty-seven-year-old man, HARRY, has his daughter, LILY, on his shoulders.

ALBUS: Dad. He keeps saying it.

HARRY: James, give it a rest.

JAMES: I only said he might be in Slytherin. And he might so . . . (Off his dad’s glare.) Fine.

ALBUS (looking up at his mum): You’ll write to me, won’t you?

GINNY: Every day if you want us to.

ALBUS: No. Not every day. James says most people only get letters from home about once a month. I don’t want to . . .

HARRY: We wrote to your brother three times a week last year.

ALBUS: What? James!

ALBUS looks accusingly at JAMES.

GINNY: Yes. You may not want to believe everything he tells you about Hogwarts. He likes a laugh, your brother.

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