Work Text:
A PLAY IN ONE ACT
1999. Wimpstone, Warwickshire. A farm.
A rooster crows. Spotlight on an enormous sun rising.
From the center of the sun, a baby's face appears, laughing uncontrollably. Still in dark,
OFFSTAGE VOICE: Cut!
Immediately, lights up on hustle and bustle. People wearing headsets and carrying clipboards scurry about, a cameraman wheels a heavy camera: a television crew.
Snaking through the melee are a forty-nine-year-old mother in a garishly pink Bo-Peep costume, BELLATRIX, and a who-the-hell-knows-how-old father wearing baggy denim overalls and a camouflage fisherman’s cap, VOLDEMORT. He carries a butterfly net. They do a fantastic job of blending in not at all.
A crewperson bumps into VOLDEMORT, who turns and hisses, accidentally smacking BELLATRIX with the butterfly net.
BELLATRIX: Ow! Thomas!
VOLDEMORT: Don't call me that.
BELLATRIX: I should call you the Dark Lord here?
VOLDEMORT: Why are we here?
BELLATRIX: I haven’t the faintest clue. It can’t have anything to do with the whinging and moaning I heard this morning, could it? (imitates) ‘Bella, I’m famished. Bella, the larder’s empty. Bella--’
VOLDEMORT: (cutting her off in a hurry) And this...Muggle animal is supposed to solve our post-war insolvency?
BELLATRIX: It’s apparently quite tasty. Muggles consume its offspring by the thousand.
VOLDEMORT: (grits his teeth) Very well. Where is the creature?
BELLATRIX: I see it yonder. Tread carefully, it’s the size of a troll and smiling like it wants to eat us.
VOLDEMORT: (scoffing) I have an army of giants terrified of me.
BELLATRIX: And it's purple.
VOLDEMORT: (Pause) Perhaps you should go first.
BELLATRIX: Thought you were frightened by nothing?
VOLDEMORT: (stammering) Purple is a poor color on me. I’m a spring palette.
BELLATRIX: We're eating it, not wearing it.
VOLDEMORT prods her forward with the butterfly net.
(Mutters) Christ, you are getting faint of heart with age.
As BELLATRIX marches bravely forward, a child runs happily up to them.
CHILD: Mummy, it's the farmer and his wife!
MOTHER: Could we have a snap? (Holds up a camera)
The child sees VOLDEMORT’s face and screams.
VOLDEMORT: (at the sound, clutches head in famous gesture, then draws wand) Avada Keda--
BELLATRIX: (hissing) Expelliarmus.
The Elder Wand clatters impotently onto the ground.
VOLDEMORT: (fury) You dare use the boy’s spell against me?
BELLATRIX: Enough! All this trouble to feed an ungrateful family. If you don't lower your voice this minute, I will snuff out the little vermin myself.
VOLDEMORT: Who? That shrieky child? I beg you do, my ears are set to follow my nose off my face.
BELLATRIX: No, you old fool, our vermin. The one that clawed its way out of my birth canal and required twenty Muggle stitches. I looked like a bloody American football down there!
VOLDEMORT shudders.
If you hadn’t destroyed St. Mungo’s--
VOLDEMORT: This again--
BELLATRIX: --I would have had a real hospital, instead of the primitive butchery that passes for Muggle medicine.
VOLDEMORT: Dolohov and Yaxley were the ones who destroyed St. Mungo’s.
BELLATRIX: On your orders! Just like these brats you’ve stuck us with. Shall I destroy them too?
VOLDEMORT: (snide exaggeration) Be my guest, Bella, be more than welcome. I’d like to see if these maggots do anything other than eat us out of house and home.
BELLATRIX: I couldn’t agree more. But you're the one that wanted the spare.
VOLDEMORT: He's not the spare! How dare you. He's not the spare.
BELLATRIX: Delphi is the heir--
VOLDEMORT: (waves a dismissive hand) Don't be stupid, she’s a girl child.
BELLATRIX: Well, I'm not making Sophie's choice.
VOLDEMORT: We’ll kill them both, then.
BELLATRIX: Tonight?
VOLDEMORT: Tonight.
BELLATRIX: Tonight, then. We rid ourselves of our children tonight.
VOLDEMORT: Good. You'll take Delphi.
BELLATRIX: (Pause. She’s onto him.) She's the firstborn, you should do it.
VOLDEMORT: I insist.
BELLATRIX: (smirks) Don't tell me you've grown fond of the measly girl child.
VOLDEMORT: Don't be ridiculous.
BELLATRIX: I knew it. You favour her. You always have.
VOLDEMORT: Me? Favour children?
BELLATRIX: Then why won't you kill her?
VOLDEMORT: Fine. I'll kill her.
BELLATRIX: Tonight.
VOLDEMORT: Tonight. I'll kill my daughter tonight. (changes the subject) It's coming, take its head off.
BELLATRIX begins to draw her wand. Suddenly, children run shrieking past them to the other side of the stage, waving cameras and glossy glamour shots.
Bodyguards in black suits and sunglasses escort the 10-foot-tall TINKY-WINKY through the crowd, which throngs the entourage as they disappear off stage.
VOLDEMORT and BELLATRIX are left standing with butterfly net and Bo-Peep staff raised protectively, shellshocked. A producer in a headset approaches.
PRODUCER: So sorry, autographs have ended for the evening. Tinky-Winky is quite tired, I'm afraid.
VOLDEMORT: How dare you--(goes for wand)
PRODUCER: --but we appreciate true fans taking the time to dress up for the show, and we can offer you a Tinky-Winky collectible for your little one at home. (Hands Bellatrix a doll.)
VOLDEMORT: (snatches it) A baby one! (holds it out by one foot in disgust) It’s dead already!
BELLATRIX: (hissed whisper) Easier to carry back. Now get another!
VOLDEMORT: (quietly) And one for the spare.
BELLATRIX: (with a triumphant smirk, turns to producer) There are two children.
PRODUCER: Of course. I'll get another. (exits)
Silence, then,
VOLDEMORT: (in a hurry) I’m going to give Delphi hers first. (Disapparates in a puff of stage smoke)
BELLATRIX: (fuming) You rapscallion! (screams) You do like her!
CURTAIN