Harry Potter and the Cursed Child

DUMBLEDORE: It is all I have to offer you tonight.
He begins to walk away.
HARRY: Don’t go!
DUMBLEDORE: Those that we love never truly leave us, Harry. There are things that death cannot
touch. Paint . . . and memory . . . and love.
HARRY: I loved you too, Dumbledore.
DUMBLEDORE: I know.
He is gone. And HARRY is alone. DRACO enters.
DRACO: Did you know that in this other reality — the reality Scorpius saw into — I was Head of
Magical Law Enforcement? Maybe this room will be mine soon enough. Are you okay?
HARRY is consumed in his grief.
HARRY: Come in — I’ll give you the tour.
DRACO walks hesitantly inside the room. He looks around distastefully.
DRACO: The thing is, though — never really fancied being a Ministry man. Even as a child. My
dad, it’s all he ever wanted — me, no.
HARRY: What did you want to do?
DRACO: Quidditch. But I wasn’t good enough. Mainly I wanted to be happy.
HARRY nods. DRACO looks at him a second more, unsure how to do this.
Sorry, I’m not very good at small talk, do you mind if we skip on to the serious business?
HARRY: Of course. What — serious — business?
Beat.
DRACO: Do you think Theodore Nott had the only Time-Turner?
HARRY: What?
DRACO: The Time-Turner the Ministry seized was a prototype. Made of inexpensive metal. It
does the job — sure. But only being able to go back in time for five minutes — that’s a serious
flaw — it isn’t something you’d sell to true collectors of Dark Magic.
HARRY realizes what DRACO is saying.