Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Parts One and Two: The Official Playscript of the Original West End Production

by John Tiffany

maybe — without you holding me back — I can make a proper go of it. SCORPIUS: Without me? Oh poor Albus Potter. With his chip on his shoulder. Poor Albus Potter. So sad. ALBUS: What are you saying? SCORPIUS (exploding): Try my life! People look at you because your dad’s the famous Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world. People look at me because they think my dad is Voldemort. Voldemort. ALBUS: Don’t even — SCORPIUS: Can you even slightly imagine what that’s like? Have you even ever tried? No. Because you can’t see beyond the end of your nose. Because you can’t see beyond the end of your stupid thing with your dad. He will always be Harry Potter, you know that, right? And you will always be his son. And I know it’s hard, and the other kids are awful, but you have to learn to be okay with that, because — there are worse things, okay? Beat. There was a moment I was excited, when I realized time was different, a moment when I thought maybe my mum hadn’t got sick. Maybe my mum wasn’t dead. But no, turns out, she was. I’m still the child of Voldemort, without a mother, giving sympathy to the boy who doesn’t ever give anything back. So I’m sorry if I’ve ruined your life because I tell you — you wouldn’t have a chance of ruining mine — it was already ruined. You just didn’t make it better. Because you’re a terrible — the most terrible — friend. ALBUS digests this. He sees what he’s done to his friend.