Chapter Text
Episode Six
CHARLIE, wearing a blue T-shirt, is sitting at his kitchen table.
OLIVER, wearing a pale grey hoodie, is slumped in the chair he was sitting in at the end of the last episode.
CHARLIE: Has it occurred to you ...
Staged
Charlie Weasley Oliver Wood
CHARLIE: ... that she’s read it and hasn’t got the heart to tell you it’s no good?
OLIVER (tetchily): Of course it has.
CHARLIE: Right. (He holds up his hands placatingly.)
OLIVER: Why would that not have occurred to me?
CHARLIE: Just thought I’d check ...
OLIVER: I mean, that is the single thing that is occurring to me repeatedly, over and over again, of course.
CHARLIE: Of course, of course. ... What do you miss?
OLIVER: About the real world?
CHARLIE: Yeah.
OLIVER: Feedback from my wife.
(CHARLIE smiles.)
OLIVER: Um ... Oh, rehearsals, I suppose. ... Film sets.
CHARLIE: Ohhh! People bringing you coffee every ten minutes.
OLIVER: They have to be nice to you.
CHARLIE: Yeah.
OLIVER: It’s, like, their job to make sure you’re okay.
CHARLIE (fondly): Yeah.
OLIVER (higher-pitched, mimicking someone from the film set): “Would you like some thermals for today?”
(CHARLIE laughs.)
OLIVER: “You can slip a few on under your costume. Nobody’ll know.”
CHARLIE (in his own voice): “Yes, I’m a bit cold.”
OLIVER: “Yes, I know you are. Don’t worry – I’ll put some heat pads in your shoes.”
CHARLIE: “I need little warm hands and feet like a hedgehog.”
OLIVER: “Can we pop you over to Make-Up? Can we pop you over to Make-Up?”
CHARLIE: And then you go into Make-Up and then it’s ... (he imitates a few bars of a loud bass line) ... fucking disco!
OLIVER (shouting in a London/Essex accent): “All right?!”
CHARLIE (as someone from Make-Up): “Oh, is the music too loud?” (As himself) “No, it’s fine, it’s fine.”
OLIVER (shouting in a London/Essex accent): “Are you sure? I can’t ’ear you! What did you say? Is it too loud?”
CHARLIE: “What?”
OLIVER (in his own voice, pulling his long scruffy hair over his face): “Please can I have a professional to sort this fucking hair out?!”
(He shoves his hair back.)
OLIVER (anguished): Oh, God!
(He runs his hand over his eyes.)
OLIVER (seriously): Charlie, I think I’m gonna stop.
CHARLIE: Uh, yeah. I should get going as well.
OLIVER: I mean ... stop doing the play. I’m gonna stop doing the play.
Episode Six
The Cookie Jar
ANGIE and Simon are having an online meeting.
ANGIE: Why do you think that?
COLLIN: It’s just a vibe, really.
ANGIE: With you?
COLLIN: With each other, and me. Everything, really.
ANGIE: Worse than the argument?
COLLIN: At least with the argument, it felt like they cared. Now they’re just not interested.
(ANGIE sighs.)
ANGIE: Is one worse than the other?
COLLIN: They’re both pretty low.
ANGIE: But you think if one goes, the other one’s just gonna follow?
COLLIN: Yeah, I think so.
(ANGIE sits back, thinking, then leans forward again.)
ANGIE: Can we hook them back in?
COLLIN (excitedly): Yes, yes! ... How?
ANGIE: A whole new approach to rehearsals.
COLLIN: We haven’t done anything yet.
ANGIE: Okay, well, a fresh start. Kick off from page one.
COLLIN: I suggested that, actually, to them yesterday.
ANGIE: Great! What did they say?
COLLIN (picking up some notes and looking at them): Er, Charlie called me, um, ‘pusillanimous.’
ANGIE: Ugh. What does that mean?
COLLIN: I don’t know. It’s not good, is it?
ANGIE: And what did Oliver say?
COLLIN (looking at his notes): Oliver nodded.
ANGIE: To starting over?
COLLIN: Or at ‘pusillanimous.’
(ANGIE leans back, then yells offscreen.)
ANGIE: Katie! Get my phone.
KATIE (offscreen): Do you want your old phone ...
ANGIE (to Simon): Right, there’s just one thing ...
KATIE (offscreen): ... your new phone, or your secret phone?
COLLIN: Yeah? What-what’s the thing? What’s the thing?
ANGIE (yelling offscreen): You can drop that tone, Katie!
COLLIN: She all right?
ANGIE: She missed her daughter’s birthday.
COLLIN: Why?
ANGIE: Fixing your mess.
COLLIN: What did she have to do?
ANGIE: Well, I had her driving flowers and wine and-and cards to Oliver and Charlie.
COLLIN: Charlie’s in Wales!
ANGIE: Yes! I know he is!
COLLIN: Is that even allowed?
ANGIE: You sound just like her.
KATIE (offscreen): Secret phone.
(The phone clatters onto the table nearby.
ANGIE leans over to pick it up.)
COLLIN (loudly): Sorry, Katie!
KATIE (offscreen): Pusillanimous prick.
(ANGIE sighs as the door to the room slams shut.
She starts working on her phone.)
ANGIE: Right, this is a long shot, but there’s an actor that I know who owes me a favour.
COLLIN: Who? Who is it?
(She holds the phone to her ear.)
ANGIE: Oh, let’s just hope she honours her debts.
(She leans back and smiles.)
ANGIE (into phone): Wagwan? (She laughs at the response.) Hello, trouble! How are you?
(She leans forward and looks into the screen.)
ANGIE: Go away.
(COLLIN nods and ends the call.)
ANGIE (into phone): No, darling, not you. Listen, cast your mind back. Twenty-fifteen, St Petersburg.
(She stands up.)
ANGIE (into phone): Good God! Do you kiss your grandson with that mouth?
(She walks offscreen.)
OLIVER is sitting on a bed in one of the WOODLING’S’ bedrooms – THOMAS’, if the helium balloon behind the bed in the shape of a ‘7’ is anything to go by.
CHARLIE is sitting at his kitchen table.
OLIVER: D’you know what this is about?
CHARLIE: I do not.
OLIVER: Well, Angie’s message was very mysterious.
CHARLIE: It was.
OLIVER: Did you get the flowers she sent?
CHARLIE: And the wine!
OLIVER: What wine?
CHARLIE: Did I say wine? No, flowers, yes. That’s right.
OLIVER: Yeah, yeah. Very kind.
CHARLIE: Yeah, lovely. The woman who delivered mine was a little short with me.
OLIVER: Yes! And her car was full of “Happy first birthday” balloons.
CHARLIE: Probably does multiple deliveries in a day.
OLIVER: I’m sure she’s very efficient.
(CHARLIE looks hesitant.)
CHARLIE: ... Can I ... tell you something that I shouldn’t tell you?
OLIVER: I dunno. Should you?
CHARLIE: I dunno. Can I?
OLIVER: Well, I don’t know now, do I?
CHARLIE: Georgia sent me your script.
OLIVER: Really?
CHARLIE: Yeah. She wanted to get another opinion on it before she spoke to you, but, er, she thinks it’s incredible.
OLIVER: And what do you think?
(CHARLIE hesitates.
Just then a third screen opens and sitting on a sofa is Minerva McGonagall.
The boys both rear back in shock.)
OLIVER: Oh fuck! Sorry!
CHARLIE: Sorry!
MCGONAGALL: Stop bleating, please.
OLIVER: Sorry!
CHARLIE: Hello!
MCGONAGALL: I’ll be with you in a second.
NEVILLE (offscreen): Angie says ‘flowers,’ question mark.
MCGONAGALL: Yes, yes, that’s fine.
NEVILLE (offscreen): And champagne.
MCGONAGALL: That’s fine. (She looks at the screen.) Oh, I hate this bloody machine. Why can’t we go back to cups and strings?
(The boys stare at her, still in shock.)
MCGONAGALL: I’m asking you, why can’t we go back to cups and strings?
OLIVER: Yes!
CHARLIE: Whatever you want.
MCGONAGALL: Oliver?
OLIVER: Sorry. I didn’t realise you were joining us!
MCGONAGALL: Well, it would have somehow lessened the impact, wouldn’t it?
OLIVER: Yes, absolutely.
(The boys both chuckle nervously.)
MCGONAGALL (to OLIVER): You’ve grown your hair.
OLIVER: Uh, extensions, actually.
MCGONAGALL: Oh. And Charlie?
CHARLIE: Professer.
MCGONAGALL: Are those extensions too?
CHARLIE: Uh, no, no, this, uh ... (he gets his breath back and looks more smooth) ... this is all me.
(OLIVER curls a nostril at his tone.)
MCGONAGALL: Mm. Well, I’ve been talking to your director.
OLIVER: Colin?
MCGONAGALL: Yes. He’s a lovely boy.
OLIVER: He’s lovely, yeah.
MCGONAGALL: He’s a tad ineffectual ...
CHARLIE: Ineffectual, yes!
MCGONAGALL: ... and ambitious.
OLIVER: Oh, absolutely.
MCGONAGALL: A bit like a well-meaning moth that keeps bumping into the wrong lightbulb.
(OLIVER stares blankly.)
MCGONAGALL: He tells me you’re not playing nicely.
OLIVER (high-pitched on the first word): Well, it’s been a tough few weeks.
MCGONAGALL: Is that right?
CHARLIE: Yeah. We’ve been through a lot.
OLIVER: We’ve been rehearsing this play.
MCGONAGALL: So I’ve been told. And you’ve fallen out of love with it?
OLIVER: Well, it’s lost its lustre, yeah.
MCGONAGALL: Is it a comedy?
CHARLIE: No. It’s Italian.
MCGONAGALL: Oh, Italian? Any of you speak Italian?
OLIVER: Yeah, Charlie does.
MCGONAGALL: Oh, do you, Charlie?
(CHARLIE bites his lip.)
CHARLIE: I don’t.
(OLIVER’S eyes widen in indignation.)
MCGONAGALL: Well, perhaps you should have said no.
CHARLIE: I suggested that.
OLIVER: Yeah, perhaps we should. I-I was torn too.
MCGONAGALL: Yes, well, it would have saved a lot of trouble.
OLIVER: But you always say that actors shouldn’t say no, because then people will stop asking you.
MCGONAGALL: Yes, yes, I do say that.
CHARLIE: What, you don’t mean it?
MCGONAGALL: Certainly not!
CHARLIE: Oh.
MCGONAGALL: Well, do you think people are ever going to stop asking me?
CHARLIE: I suppose not.
OLIVER: No.
MCGONAGALL: No matter how often I say no, they never do. They keep on and on. “Do this.” “Do that.” “Play a queen.” “Play a spy.” “Play a cat.” Do you know how tiring it is to be everyone’s first choice for every bloody role?
CHARLIE: I do.
MCGONAGALL: No, Charlie, you don’t!
CHARLIE: No, no.
MCGONAGALL: We’re told in this industry to expect rejection. Now, some of us are fortunate enough to reach the level where we have to mete out the rejection. That’s not an easy responsibility either.
CHARLIE: Are you – are you saying we should have said no?
MCGONAGALL: I’m saying that the responsibility of saying yes or no lies squarely with you, as does your behaviour afterwards. You said yes.
CHARLIE (looking awkward): Yes.
OLIVER: Y-yes.
MCGONAGALL: Then stop fucking about. We’re actors. When we say yes, we do the bloody job.
(She ends the call.
The boys lean back, both a bit wide-eyed, for several seconds.
Finally OLIVER leans forward again.)
OLIVER: You don’t speak Italian?
CHARLIE: You think Colin’s a lovely boy?
OLIVER (in a Welsh accent): “No, this hair, it’s all me.”
CHARLIE: Well, it is!
OLIVER (in a Welsh accent): “It’s all me.”
CHARLIE: You are just jealous of my mane.
OLIVER: Trying to seduce the Professer.
CHARLIE (laughing): Well, can you blame me?
OLIVER: You know, she’s a national treasure.
CHARLIE: I felt like a rabbit in the headlights.
OLIVER: Yeah. There is something ethereal about her, isn’t there, something otherworldly?
CHARLIE: It’s sort of like being ... consumed ... by ... Angel Delight.
OLIVER: Which flavour of Angel Delight are you imagining?
CHARLIE: Strawberry, of course.
OLIVER: I’d have said butterscotch.
(CHARLIE gazes offscreen, sighing.)
OLIVER (frowning): She’s definitely hung up, hasn’t she?
CHARLIE (looking back to the screen): Well, I guess we should do the bloody job, then.
OLIVER: I think we probably should, yeah.
PERSEPHONE is sitting at the dining table, reading a book with one hand and holding a glass of red wine with the other.
OLIVER comes over and sits down next to her.
PERSEPHONE: Hey.
(She carries on reading.
OLIVER looks at her.)
OLIVER (softly): Thank you.
(She looks at him and smiles, then gets back to her book.)
PERSEPHONE and OLIVER are sitting at the dining table.
It’s later, possibly night time, and PERSEPHONE has changed clothes since the last scene.
OLIVER is wearing a pale grey hoodie.
They’re looking down at something offscreen.
PERSEPHONE: “I can’t believe you found us.”
OLIVER (narrating): “The family stare at the woman; Christopher and his two girls, caked in mud from days walking. Sarah has a cut on her face.”
PERSEPHONE: “Are you hurt, little girl?”
(TONKS and CHARLIE are sitting at the kitchen table.
CHARLIE is still in his blue T-shirt.
They are looking down at something offscreen.)
TONKS (shaking her head and looking tearful): “I’ll be fine.”
PERSEPHONE: “Where have you come from?”
OLIVER (narrating): “The girls look at Christopher. Tears begin to pool in his eyes.”
(DENNIS and COLLIN are sitting side by side at the desk in the office, looking down at something offscreen.)
CHARLIE: “Over the mountains.”
TONKS: “You have food?”
PERSEPHONE: “And water, and a place to rest.”
TONKS: “We can rest! Dad, we can rest!”
OLIVER (narrating): “Her little sister begins to cry.”
DENNIS: “Daddy.”
OLIVER (narrating): “And his knees give in. He sinks to the floor, gathering his daughters in his arms.”
PERSEPHONE: “Stay as long as you need.”
CHARLIE (sighing in relief): “Oh, thank you.”
OLIVER (narrating): “Somewhere a dog barks.”
COLLIN: “Woof.”
PERSEPHONE: “How did you find us?”
OLIVER (narrating): “The man looks up, tears cutting rivers through the dirt on his face.”
CHARLIE: “When I was young, a circus passed through town, and my father lifted me up on his shoulders so I could see. I asked him how the elephants found their way, and he told me they parade in single file, just holding the tail of the elephant in front ... until they get home.”
OLIVER (narrating): “He looks to the horizon.”
(He sits back.
PERSEPHONE pats his shoulder.)
PERSEPHONE: Aww!
CHARLIE: Aww.
(The five of them applaud while OLIVER smiles.)
COLLIN: Very good.
OLIVER: It’s not too pretentious?
CHARLIE: No-o-o-o!
OLIVER: No? Sure?
CHARLIE: Well, not in the right hands.
OLIVER: Right. Thanks for reading in, Dennis.
DENNIS: Oh, my pleasure.
OLIVER: And Tonks and Persephone, of course, obviously.
CHARLIE: And good work with those dogs, Colin!
COLLIN: Thank you!
CHARLIE: I mean, such variety!
COLLIN: Yeah!
OLIVER: Got any notes?
CHARLIE: Nothing.
OLIVER: Come on.
CHARLIE: No!
OLIVER: You must have something.
CHARLIE (drawing in a long breath): Er ... oh, I lo- I loved how the daughter rescues the father. Oh!
OLIVER: That was actually Seph's idea.
CHARLIE: Oh, it’s very, it’s very moving.
DENNIS: And, um, I loved the scene with the deer.
COLLIN: Ooh, yeah!
OLIVER: Yes! That one was Persephone too, actually.
TONKS: Well, the visual language was striking.
OLIVER: Thank you! I think ... yeah, that was me.
(PERSEPHONE wrinkles her nose and shakes her head at the screen.)
CHARLIE: What do the elephants symbolise?
OLIVER: The elephants ...
(He gazes off into space, poking his tongue out of the side of his mouth while he thinks for a long moment.)
PERSEPHONE: Memory.
OLIVER: Memory.
PERSEPHONE: Mm.
CHARLIE: Did you write any of it, Oliver?
OLIVER: I responded very well to notes.
CHARLIE: From a published novelist.
OLIVER: From a published novelist, yeah.
CHARLIE: Yeah. Could I be in the film of your book instead, Seph?
OLIVER: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.
CHARLIE (high-pitched and indignant): Er, why not?
OLIVER (smiling): Because if anyone does that, it’s gonna be me.
CHARLIE: Why?
OLIVER: Because I’m married to her.
CHARLIE: What would happen to your film, then? Who’d look after the elephants?
OLIVER: Fuck the elephants!
CHARLIE: Ladies and gentlemen, fuck the elephants.
OLIVER: Yep!
CHARLIE: I miss elephants!
TONKS: You miss elephants?
CHARLIE: Yeah. Oliver asked me earlier what do I miss – and I miss elephants.
OLIVER: You miss elephants?
CHARLIE: I do.
OLIVER: What, on a day-to-day basis?
CHARLIE: No, not on a day-to-day basis, Oliver. But I’ve thought about it, and I would like to see an elephant.
(OLIVER thinks about it for a moment.)
OLIVER: I would like to see an elephant, yeah.
PERSEPHONE: Well, you’ve both survived this long without one, so ...
OLIVER: That’s true.
COLLIN: Mm.
TONKS (looking pointedly at Michael’s mane): I miss hairdressers.
(CHARLIE turns to her and sees where she’s looking.
His mouth drops open and he turns to the screen, gasping out an indignant sound before laughing sarcastically.)
OLIVER: What about you, Dennis?
DENNIS: Oh, God, I miss my own space.
OLIVER (pulling an understanding face): Well ...
(DENNIS gives COLLIN an apologetic hug.)
OLIVER: Colin?
COLLIN: Er, nothing. I am fine.
OLIVER (dubiously): Really? ’Cause I ... May I ... moot an idea?
COLLIN (smiling and shaking his head): No.
CHARLIE: Oh, please! Let him moot! Let him moot an idea.
OLIVER: May I put forth a moot?
CHARLIE: Yes, he moots so beautifully!
OLIVER: I do! And I’ve missed mooting.
CHARLIE: He’s a master mooter.
OLIVER: Yeah. Master Mootivator.
(Everyone chuckles.)
CHARLIE: You really are! You mootivate me.
OLIVER: Thank you. If I may moot ...
CHARLIE: 2-4-6-8 Mootaway.
OLIVER: I moot that Colin misses well-behaved actors.
COLLIN: Absolutely not.
OLIVER: Not even trying!
CHARLIE: Ahh! You lie! You lie!
(OLIVER puts his fingers to his nose and pulls them forward to signify COLLIN’S nose growing long with his lie.)
OLIVER: Woo-hoo!
(A doorbell rings.
CHARLIE’S head snaps round to his left.)
OLIVER: What was that?
(The doorbell rings again.)
CHARLIE: There’s someone at the front door.
OLIVER: Who is it?
CHARLIE: I don’t know. Er, just ... just give me a sec.
(He stands up and walks away, TONKS following him.)
OLIVER: Rude at this hour.
PERSEPHONE: Mm.
DENNIS: What’s the plan with the script, Oliver?
OLIVER (leaning forward and talking quietly): Well, I’m ... I’m sort of hoping that Charlie will do it.
DENNIS: Oh, amazing!
(COLLIN gives a thumbs-up.)
OLIVER (normal volume): Although apparently he’s attached to Seph's novel, so ...
COLLIN: Who’s directing?
OLIVER: I dunno; I thought I might give it a go myself.
DENNIS: Mm!
COLLIN: Give it a go yourself?
OLIVER: Well, if you can do it, Colin ...
(He clicks his tongue.
TONKS comes back and sits down, still looking towards the door.)
COLLIN (smiling): If I can do it, Oliver ...
PERSEPHONE (to TONKS): Who was it?
TONKS: Uh, Rosmerta’s son.
PERSEPHONE: What did he say?
TONKS: I don’t know. I left Charlie with him.
DENNIS (to Simon): Who’s Rosmerta?
COLLIN: Uh, Charlie’s neighbour.
(CHARLIE comes back and sits down, his face serious.
He pauses for a moment.)
CHARLIE: She’s okay.
OLIVER: Brilliant.
(There are sighs of relief.)
CHARLIE: I mean, she was sick, but, uh, the hospital did an amazing job. That was her son. She wanted me to know ... (his voice starts to break) ... that she was okay, that she was okay.
(TONKS strokes his arm.)
CHARLIE: Oh ... (he chuckles with relief) ... ah. (He clears his throat.) Excuse me, excuse me.
(He stands up and leaves the table.)
PERSEPHONE: Okay, we’re gonna leave you guys to it.
OLIVER: Yeah.
COLLIN: Yeah, we’ll go too.
DENNIS: Yeah. Lovely to see you all.
OLIVER: And you, Dennis.
(DENNIS gets up and leaves.)
OLIVER: Aw, he’s lovely.
COLLIN: Yes, he is, yeah. Um ... are we rehearsing tomorrow?
OLIVER: I see no reason why not. Charlie and I are professionals. When we say yes, we do the bloody job.
COLLIN: Great! Where from?
OLIVER: Have we ... done anything with scene one yet?
COLLIN: No.
OLIVER: Maybe we should just start with scene one.
COLLIN: Start from scene one. Page one?
OLIVER: Very good. See you there.
COLLIN: See you there!
(He ends the call.)
TONK: God natt, sov got!
OLIVER: Ooh, what’s that?
TONKS: Good night and sleep well.
OLIVER: In Welsh?
TONKS: No, in Swedish. In Welsh it’s nos da a chysgwch yn dda.
OLIVER: Oh God, you’re impressive!
TONKS: Mm.
(Smiling, she ends the call.
OLIVER and PERSEPHONE leans back, then PERSEPHONE leans over and puts her head on OLIVER’S shoulder.)
OLIVER: Mm, that was all right.
PERSEPHONE: Mm. (She snuggles in and closes her eyes.) D’you know what I miss?
OLIVER: No! What do you miss?
PERSEPHONE (opening her eyes): You wearing a different top.
OLIVER (looking down at his pale grey hoodie): Oh. Sorry.
PERSEPHONE (lifting her head): And sleep. I’m going to bed.
OLIVER: N’night.
PERSEPHONE (picking up a glass of wine and taking it with her as she leaves the table): N’night.
(He blows a kiss after her.
A few seconds later there’s the sound of an incoming video call from the laptop.
He leans forward and takes the call.
CHARLIE is sitting at the kitchen table with his hand over his mouth, looking serious.)
OLIVER: All right?
(CHARLIE slowly lowers his hand and leans forward a little.)
CHARLIE (quietly): Are you alone?
OLIVER (quietly, leaning forward): Yeah.
CHARLIE: I have so many notes on your script.
OLIVER (leaning back again): Oh, fuck off!
(CHARLIE cackles.
OLIVER raises both hands in rude V-signs.
CHARLIE cackles louder and leans dramatically towards the screen, his mouth wide open.)
MCGONAGALL: Well, what was it to begin with?
OLIVER: “Oliver Wood, Charlie Weasley.”
MCGONAGALL: Well, that’s absurd.
CHARLIE: That’s what I said.
MCGONAGALL: I mean, when in doubt, it’s alphabetical order.
OLIVER (shouting and gesticulating indignantly): That is not a fucking rule!
MCGONAGALL: Oliver John Wood, you’re going the right way for a smacked bottom.
(OLIVER sits back, chastised.
CHARLIE leans closer.)
CHARLIE: He’s been like this all the way through, McGonagall.
(MCGONAGALL puts her face in her hand.)
OLIVER (leaning forward again and looking at a screen on the laptop): Now, Minnie, it says here, your name came before Flitwick’s’s on Philomena.
MCGONAGALL (looking up again): Yes.
OLIVER: Before Charity Burnage’s on Mrs Brown.
MCGONAGALL: Yes.
OLIVER: Well, they all come before you alphabetically.
MCGONAGALL: They do.
OLIVER: So why does your name come first?
MCGONAGALL: I’m Minerva McGonagall.
(OLIVER blinks and sits back.)
CHARLIE (looking at the screen on his phone): Um, what is the significance of “and”?
OLIVER: What d’you mean?
CHARLIE (reading from the phone): “Kingsley Shaklebolt, Remus Lupin, Quirinus Quirrell and Minerva McGonagall.”
MCGONAGALL: Well, there is something to be said for magnanimity.
CHARLIE (thoughtfully): Oliver Wood ... and ... Charlie Weasley.
OLIVER: Charlie Weasley with Oliver Wood.
CHARLIE: Oliver Wood minus Charlie Weasley.
OLIVER: Charlie Weasley, nevertheless, Oliver Wood.
CHARLIE: Oliver Wood notwithstanding Charlie Weasley.
OLIVER: Oliver Wood and Charles Weasley.
(CHARLIE’S smile becomes somewhat fixed, with his teeth bared.)
MCGONAGALL: How about: Minerva McGonagall introduces Charlie Weasley and Oliver Wood?
OLIVER (instantly): That sounds right, yeah.
CHARLIE (nodding): Yeah.
MCGONAGALL: Hm!
Staged
Minerva McGonagall introduces
Charlie Weasley Oliver Wood
MCGONAGALL: I remember being in a scrap about billing once.
CHARLIE: How did you resolve it?
MCGONAGALL: We had to recite “the quality of mercy” from The Merchant of Venice backwards. The first one to get a word wrong took an item of clothing off. At the end, the person left with no clothes on at all got second billing.
CHARLIE: And ... and who won?
MCGONAGALL: Well, I did, of course, but, um, it was a close thing.
CHARLIE: Oh, I bet.
MCGONAGALL: Have you tried that?
CHARLIE: Uh ... Well, Oliver only ever wears that bloody hoodie, so, you know, it’s not really fair.
MCGONAGALL: Well, somebody should take something off! Anyway, your name will be twice on the poster, Oliver, ’cause you wrote it.
OLIVER: Well, yes, and I’m directing it, actually. Any tips?
MCGONAGALL: Well, you could try a good warm-up game.
OLIVER: Really?
MCGONAGALL: Mm. It always goes well. You know: “Who Stole the Cookie from the Cookie Jar”?
(The boys stare at their screens for a long moment, then they speak simultaneously and rhythmically, waving their hands.)
CHARLIE: “Oliver Stole the Cookie from the Cookie Jar!” / OLIVER: “Charlie Stole the Cookie from the Cookie Jar!”