Scorpius grabbed Albus’s sleeve. “The Shard. We have to go back—stop ourselves from ever speaking to Cedric.”
He just waited for his son to come home.
“I don’t need you to be someone else,” Harry whispered into his son’s messy black hair. “I just need you to be here.” Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Parts One an...
It was the day of the Second Task, 1995.
Twenty-two years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry Potter, now Head of Magical Law Enforcement, still woke at 3:47 AM most nights. Not from nightmares of Voldemort anymore, but from a quieter dread: the face of his youngest son, Albus Severus, twisted in silent resentment across the dinner table that evening. Scorpius grabbed Albus’s sleeve
They watched from the shadows as the champions dove. And Cedric did exactly as Albus said. He slowed. He pretended his charm was failing. Harry Potter—a younger, lankier, unbroken Harry—surfaced with Ron Weasley just as Cedric arrived with Cho Chang. The crowd applauded both. Cedric grinned, relieved.
Albus felt the floor drop. He had tried to save a boy’s pride and drowned the world in tyranny. Harry—but not his father—burst through the doors. This Harry wore a Death Eater’s mask and carried a wand that leaked black smoke. He looked at Albus without recognition. “I don’t need you to be someone else,”
Cedric frowned. “Who are you?”