Harry Potter and the Cursed Child

YOUNG HARRY: I’m — sorry, I think I was having a nightmare.
AUNT PETUNIA: You disgusting boy. Only animals wet themselves. Animals and disgusting little
boys.
YOUNG HARRY: It was about my mum and dad. I think I saw them — I think I saw them — die?
AUNT PETUNIA: And why would I have the slightest bit of interest in that?
YOUNG HARRY: There was a man shouting Adkava Ad-something Acabra — Ad — and the noise
of a snake hissing. I could hear my mum scream.
AUNT PETUNIA takes a moment to reset herself.
AUNT PETUNIA: If you were really reliving their death, all you’d hear would be a screech of brakes
and a horrific thud. Your parents died in a car accident. You know that. I don’t think your
mother had even time to scream. Lord spare you the details more than that. Now strip those
sheets, get in the kitchen, and get scrubbing. I don’t want to have to tell you again.
She exits with a bang.
And YOUNG HARRY is left holding the sheets.
And the stage contorts and trees rise as the dream twists into something else entirely.
Suddenly, from within the trees, ALBUS appears and stands looking at YOUNG HARRY.
And then he’s pulled hard away.
To be replaced by Parseltongue whispers reverberating around the theater.
He’s coming. He’s coming.
Words said in an unmistakable voice. The voice of VOLDEMORT . . .
Haaarry Pottttter.