HBO’s Newest Show (not-actually-I-wish): The Auror “Pilot”
This is rough draft 20 something of loosely written “Pilot” episode of a show that will never happen. It’s mostly my personal notes so it’s hardly formatted like a script and has a lot of directorial notes that are really of no concern to anyone at all. But I would like for someone to read it, for it to be out there in the world even if it’s just five people. I am in the middle of writing the full series so maybe I will continue to update it as I make progress–we’ll see.
What do you need to know before you read it? It happens in the Harry Potter universe, about five years after the epilogue, or 16 years after the end of the final book. It follows a group of three aurors who stumble across something brewing in the underworld of the magical community.
The idea is that the people reading Harry Potter have grown up. The same people who stood in line waiting for the books to release ten years ago are now doing the same for A Song of Ice and Fire and thus the story has aged with its audience. It still explores the difference between good and evil and conquering out demons while fighting to save those around us, but now has a lot of sex, drugs, and murder like everyone’s favorite cop show.
The camera opens on a fast moving aerial shot of a London suburb at night. As the camera flies past the houses the few lights below blur together. The camera begins to pan back and up and as we zoom out it’s revealed we are following an owl. The owl, carrying a letter continues to fly through the crisp night sky.
The shot opens on the silhouette of a man lying in bed, outlined by the light coming through the window behind him. In a few moments the owl lands on the sill and begins to rap on the glass. At firs the man turns slowly to the window and then when he notices the owl he leaps to his feet sprinting across the darkly lit room and flinging open the window.
Man 1: Fuck!
The man hisses still a silhouette outlined by the moon. After a momentary beat while he stares, unmoving at the letter he crosses the large room in three rapid strides picking up his wand and shoes as he passes the desk by the door.
The camera cuts to the hall where the man exits through his door and beings to stride, at the same pace, down the hall banging on three doors as he makes his way to the stairs.
Man 1: Let’s move! The Ministry is on the way.
He shouts without even breaking his stride. As he takes the stairs the camera stays still, focusing on the empty hallway. Then the three doors the man banged on open up and three more men stumbling as they slip on shoes, coats, and pants while trying to make their way down the hall:
Man 2: How did they find us? Took me a week to get that unplottable charm right, should have been impossible to find.
Man 3: I don’t know, but we should never have stayed here for so long. I told you all movement is key. They can’t track us if we’re in 10 different places in a year.
Man 2: I can’t keep moving I need a life of some sort. What good is all this money if I can’t spend it?
Man 4: Money’s no good in Azkaban either.
Man 2: But still there should have been no need for that. This place is hidden better than the basement of Gringotts’.
T: He’s not wrong.
The four men approaching the front door snap around looking at a smiling man sitting in the plush arm chair they had just past. He is twirling his wand and passing it from hand to hand sitting with an air of ease entirely unsuited to the situation at hand. The four men stare at him in disbelief:
T: You are being detained by the Ministry of Magic. You have the right to refuse to speak in your own defense. If you refuse to accompany me I have been deputized to use force. You also have the right to council which will be provided by the Wizengamot. Do you understand these rights?
The men continue to look at him unspeaking but now looks of fury on their face.
T: I need verbal confirmation from you, that you understand these rights as they have been read to you.
Man 1: Fuck you!
And with one swift motion the man reaches for his wand pointing it at the man sitting in the chair.
Man 1: Avada k—
With a lazy flick of the wrist T smiles as the man flies off his feet slamming face first into the wall across the room from him. T leaps to his feet and before the other three men could draw their wands he curses the one on the left whose legs crumple beneath him and tries to scramble over to his wand which rolled underneath the dining room table. The second man fires a green beam of light at T who summons a chair that blocks the oncoming curse. With a sharp pop T appears behind the two men and with a wave of his wand a spurt of blood comes from one of the men’s necks and he collapses to the ground. T points his wand at the final man’s feet as he is turning around and it ripples like water and the man sinks up to his chest in the wooden floor. T smiles and crouches down next to the man who spits in his face as he tries to reach his wand that has fallen inches from his finger. T rotates his wand quickly in his hand holding it end down and places it on the man’s right shoulder.
T: Where are they?
Man 2: Sold them all.
T: Now why don’t I believe you?
T pushes his wand, glowing like hot coals now, into the man’s shoulder. It sinks about three inches in disappearing like a blade in the man’s shoulder. As the blade disappears slowly, the man screams in pain.
Man 2: I fucking swear! I don’t have any left!
T: Too bad.
T pulls his wand out of the man’s shoulder and with a swift movement stabs it up through his neck. T paces over to the last man, still immobilized under his fallen companion. He pushes the corpse off him and locks his hands together with a wave of his wand. “Levicorpus,” the man’s body floats in the air as T and the floating body exit the house.
In the black between scenes the sound of hard soles striding purposefully on marble floor. The scene fades in on a pair of feet walking down a well-lit hallway. They reach a door and pause momentarily before entering an office. From the low vantage point the audience sees crossing feet and legs of desks and chairs. We hear a number of voices greeting T as he walks through the office. He reaches his desk and his feet turn just before a man framed in the background sitting in a plush chair in an office, the door of which is wide open:
Dylan Forsynth: T, come here.
Cuts to an American shot for the conversation.
T: Can I settle in first?
Forsynth: You had 15 minutes to settle in, you chose to use those being late.
T: So then you know how busy I was this morning being late—too busy to settle in.
Forsynth laughs, the camera cuts to his office as T enters through the door. Shutting it behind him.
Forsynth: I know you had a late night T but everyone is up my ass about last night.
Flipping through a folder he picks up from his desk
Three dead, one in custody refusing to talk, and no Dreamer to speak of. It was quite a busy night, even by your standards.
T: So the guys searched the place.
Forsynth: Yeah they searched it. He wasn’t lying there was nothing there. A few traces of ingredients on a cauldron or two but nothing that would suggest they weren’t making Babbling Beverage.
T: Normally people don’t try to kill me over babbling beverage though. Let me go talk to him?
Forsynth: You know I can’t let you talk to him. Did you see how much blood was left at the scene? I’m supposed to be punishing you right now. I’m supposed to move you off the Dreamer case entirely.
T: You wouldn’t do that…
Forsynth: No I’m not taking you off the case, but you need to tone it down. No one is paying attention to this, not until you paint the walls of some Eaton house.
Slides one of the pictures across the table.
Forsynth: You have special dispensation because it makes the public feel safe that the Ministry has the ability to respond in kind to whatever is out there. Not so you can go into a Dreamer house and leave three bodies and come out with no fucking Dreamer T!
T: So I can’t go and talk to him?
Forsynth: No. I’ve got Jax going there later. You’ve got an American to babysit—it’s your punishment.
T: You’ve got me on escort duty again?
Forsynth: Americans are sending a representative from the Magical Congress a few days early. Wants to “experience London” before the ICW meeting. The Americans asked for our best.
T: And everyone else had shit to do right?
Forsynth: No. Everyone is wide open actually.
T exits the office smiling.
Forsynth: American will be downstairs at 14:00.
T: Where am I supposed to be taking this guy?
Forsynth: Couldn’t tell you. Seems like he just wants to see the lot.
T: You’re going to let me do my job after this right?
Forsynth: This is a part of your job.
Filler Scene: Fills out the 1.5 or 1 hour time limit as necessary.
Scene is funny, humorous respite in a generally dark episode. Meant to be an establishing scene for the history leading to the events of the show. As well as demonstrates T’s lighter side, he’s pretty childish and goofy in the scene. Meant to be a stark contrast to the third act of this episode.
T enters the auror office walking through the desks, on which we see the dark detectors and spinning and whirring magical objects. He strides through the desk to Forsynth’s office which is closed, he knocks on the door and a call comes from an open door adjacent to the head auror’s office.
Annabelle: He had to step out, meeting at the Office of Magical Law Enforcement.
T: Lucky me, I was worried he was out looking for another American for me to babysit.
Annabelle: So it went well I’m assuming?
T walks into the open room and sits behind a desk, across from which is standing Annabelle in front of a board with objects attached all along it. At the top there are a series of moving mugshots and below it glowing words written in the air. The mugshots’ order rotates in the air periodically.
T: Surprisingly he was a right laugh. Those congressmen certainly seem to have far more fun than our ministry boys. You know he dragged me to a pub in the afternoon.
Annabelle: That must’ve been a real struggle for him.
T: This the Muggle Fighting Case?
Annabelle: No, we’ve got a raid later this week so I’m waiting on that. I’m working on the only piece of evidence we could get from that Dreamer house.
T: Did you see my work firsthand then? I like to think of it as my art.
Annabelle: You left us three bodies, and a pretty complex transfiguration charm to clean up your “art” was a huge pain in my ass.
T: (smiling) I would have thought you would have been impressed. I might finally be giving you a run for your money.
Annabelle: I wouldn’t say taking out four assholes in a dreamer house is anywhere near giving me a run for my money. I think if I remember correctly last time we dueled you missed a week of work.
T: Unrelated incident. So what did you all find at the house? Forsynth said there was nothing to be found.
Annabelle: Well no Dreamer, no. But we found this.
Annabelle tosses a dark leather bound book onto the table in front of T. He picks it up and flips through the pages revealing that the pages are all blank. He opens to a blank page and waves his wand over the book, “Specialis Revelio.” In response the open page writes out a message in scrolling script:
Go fuck yourself Tase Thorbun.
T: So then what is all this?
Annabelle: Well it has a very strong protection charm on it. It seems like whoever Gospodar is the only one who can see the text. T: Well that’s rather clever but I’m not sure how much you can learn from this.
Annabelle: I took it down to Coburn in Magical Artifacts and he got it to display for a moment but we managed to get down a few pages before it went blank again.
She tosses a page onto the desk with a series of letters and numbers.
T: So they stuck a protection charm on here that took a master of magical artifacts to crack and they still wrote it in code. Have you ever suspected crime is only around to fuck with our Friday nights?
Annabelle: Looks like the first two letters are the distributor given the Dreamer and the subsequent two digits are units given and the next four, worth in galleons. We think these four are the occupants of the house, they show up the most often. If this ledger continues at the rate of these pages we’re talking about tens of thousands of bottles of Dreamer, millions of galleons.
T: And these guys?
Gesturing at the floating mugshots
Annabelle: These are our best bets at the supplier.
T: What do you know about the supplier besides that he’s a massively conceded ass?
T: Well Gospodar is a Slovak word for master or lord.
Annabelle: I just assumed it was name.
T: This is one of the only times being born in Bulgaria and going to Durmstrang has ever come in handy. It’s mostly bad, after all I am the only black man in the world named Thorburn.
Annabell: I always just assumed your parents hated you. I mean I can’t imagine you were a cute baby.
T: How do you know one of the residents wasn’t the supplier?
Annabelle: We didn’t find any supplies. Also if one of them is the supplier we’re fucked—hard to trace the supply train of a dead man. So we’re mostly just going off of necessity.
T: Any of these guys from Slavic countries.
Annabelle waves her wand and five of the mugshots float over above the table. The camera frames T leaning back in his seat with his feet on the table and the photos. The men are all screaming and struggling against their restraints except for one. T pulls that one out of the air.
T: Who is this?
Annabelle checks a sheet on the table to her left.
Annabelle: Farkas, born in Hungary. Previously served time in Azkaban for trafficking in dark objects and breaking the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. Why this one?
T: Don’t you want to know what this guy is thinking? Let’s take my car.
Cut to a close-up of T’s hand resting on the shot, he stands up and his hand leaves the frame. Shot lingers and the audience sees the man in the photo for the first time clearly. Relaxing, with his prisoner number sign resting lackadaisically in his left hand a smirk on his face as cameras from out of the frame flash periodically.
Scene opens on the closed door of a public restroom. The door opens and out steps Annabelle and T, they walk past the camera and out toward the main road.
Annabelle: Why don’t we just apparate? T, I know you love all this muggle shit but–
T: It’s only a ten minute drive you’ll like it I promise.
Annabelle: We’re close enough we can just apparate right to the front step. T, stop fucking about.
T: (laughing) Do you not have ten minutes to kill?
Annabelle: It’s not time killing. It’s about not getting in this bat shit machine.
T: Muggles drive these things all day long.
Annabelle: And they’re fucking nutters.
T laughs as he turns the corner. The camera focuses on an alley from across the road, the audience sees vehicles crossing in front of the view. The alley is dreary, a homeless man is at the front and it seems to be unnaturally dark for a street in London at mid-day. It’s dirty and in between two unappetizing but funny shops (undetermined at this time). T and Annabelle cross in front of the camera then turn down the street. They continue to walk away from the camera, becoming darker and darker as they walk farther away and turn left into a doorway. As they turn left the image of the alley ripples like a placid lake recently disturbed by a falling leaf and the nose of a black sedan pokes out. A car fallows and turns left onto the street and exits the shot. Jump to in the car where Annabelle looks terrified and T is grinning like a child who has just opened the Christmas present he asked for.
Annabelle: Shit T, why do you love this muggle rubbish so much.
T: This doesn’t amaze you? I’m astounded by how they live without magic. I would bet there aren’t ten wizards in the world who grew up in a wizarding family that could last a week without magic. These muggles don’t only manage they thrive and it’s beautiful.
Annabelle: But this is mad. How does this even move.
T: Well actually I picked up this book on cars. Apparently it has something to do with this thing called an engine. Basically as far as I can understand it, it takes in a liquid called petrol and lights it on fire and uses little explosions to move the wheels.
Annabelle: Fucking explosions?! I was right T, you’re mad.
T: You ever heard muggle music Anna?
T reaches for the radio dial and turns it on and Otis Redding’s “The Dock of the Bay” comes on.
T: Just sit back and enjoy the ride.
The camera zooms back out of the window panning up and back as the car takes off from the stop light and “The Dock of the Bay” plays loudly.
The scene opens on a low shot from a parking lot onto a series of homes in a London suburb. The black car pulls up stopping with the bumper inches away from the camera. The shot cuts to the front door and we see T and Annabelle walk up to the stoop and stop.
T: In the middle of a muggle village; must be some protection on here.
Annabelle: Could just have muggle repelling charms on it.
T: Forever the optimist.
He picks up a loose pebble from the lawn and tosses it at the door. It knocks against the door with a hallow thud. T looks over to Annabelle who walks forward and turns the doorknob and opens it slowly. She peaks her head around the door and turns back around to T waiting on the step.
Annabelle: Nothing I can see.
They step in through the front door an the camera follows. Revealing what looks like a normal suburban home. Clean and decorated like a magazine ad from Wizarding Housekeeping.
T: Does this look right to you?
Annabelle: What do you mean?
T: I know you’re no drug dealer Anna. But there I’ve never met a drug dealer with a keen eye for interior decoration.
Annabelle: No I guess not. But this is definitely the place.
T: Look, this isn’t even our guys family though. I mean unless our Hungarian got a serious tan.
T leans over and pulls one of the many small portraits off the wall.
Annabelle: No, not many Indian-Hungarians are there.
A loud voice echoes throughout the foray.
Voice: You are not meant to be here.
T: Aw, well this is what we were hoping for.
Annabelle: Scared the shit out of me though.
Voice: You are not meant to be here.
T: My name is Gospodar.
Voice: You are not.
T: Worth a try.
Voice: You will leave now.
T: How much information do you need before you can break the curse?
Annabelle: Curses like this are normally tied to an object. I just need to find the object. But there’s no guarantee we can find it before it does something. We should get a curse breaker in here. We wouldn’t want to be found dead in a muggle neighborhood on a Thursday, hard to explain that.
T: Anna, I’m going to die. I’m probably even going to die standing next to you with my wand in my hand. But I will not die killed by a loud voice in an empty house. That would make for quite the shit eulogy.
Annabelle: Let’s move quick.
T: Your lead.
Annabelle: You take the drawing room I’ll take the kitchen and move from there.
T crosses in front of Annabelle moving into a room full of plush couches and paisley upholstered furniture. He sees a dark statue glowing slightly and voices whispering from it.
T: (whispered to self) Well that’s just disappointing. (shouted) Annabelle, found it.
Annabelle: Well that’s just disappointing.
Annabelle taps her wand and mutters of a few incantations. The statue shifts and a pulse emits from it. Annabelle and T turn around and the camera pans throughout the drawing room revealing the new home. No longer bright and sparsely decorated with colorful furniture the room is dark and dirty and crowded. Packed with sinister looking objects and old cobwebbed furniture.
T: More of what you were expecting no?
Annabelle looking around in slight shock and disgust:
Annabelle: Yeah… um let’s move quick you check upstairs. Don’t want to be in here longer than I have to.
She points her wand absentmindedly toward the newly exposed fireplace and a flame erupts and she begins making her way around the room. While T heads upstairs. Cut to the hallway upstairs where we see T come off the landing and enter the first room off the staircase. Cuts to in the room; the room is equally as dirty and dreary as the drawing room was downstairs. T beings rummaging through the dressers, closets, and desk. He comes to a drawer and pauses. The shot cuts over to the drawer where we see a sock with a pinkish light glowing through a small hole. T tenderly picks it up and pulls out a small vile filled to the brim and sealed with wax. The bottle is glowing a deep pink and T holds it up to the lamp next to the dresser to examine it. Cut to a close up on the vile and T’s hand holding it a small crack in the wax produces a drop which moves slowly down the bottle to T’s finger. As soon as it touches his skin he sucks in his teeth in apparent pain and drops the vile, which falls back into the sock drawer. He opens his mouth in a silent shout and a wisp of smoke comes out. A hand reaches from off camera and touches T’s face. Shot of T standing, half leaning on the bed and in front of him is a young woman, ghost-like figure, and the rest of the room besides her and T have become obscured, barely visible, in darkness.
Figure: Hello Tase.
Figure: How are you doing? I’ve missed you.
T begins to cry silently.
T: I’m so sorry. I’m sorry!
Figure: I forgive you; I have always forgiven you.
The figure reaches forward and takes T’s face in her hands and leans in and kisses him on the cheek. He reaches out silently, still weeping and touches her. Then a voice from downstairs screams in pain.
Man: (muted shout from downstairs) You dare try and steal from me?! Who sent you?! Crucio (laughing)
T: (in mild shock and horror) I… I have to go.
Figure: No, stay.
T: How can you be here?
Figure: Everything is alright now Tase we can be together again, I forgive you.
Screams of pain continue off screen piercing through the silence as T stares fixated on the glowing figure.
Figure: Everything is okay now.
T: I can’t be here, you can’t be here I have to go.
Figure: Don’t leave Tase.
T: I can’t lose you again.
Figure: Then stay.
T backs out hesitantly then a final shout of “Diffindo!” at which point he turns and runs downstairs. Pausing at the corner of the staircase and the drawing room.
T rounds the corner quickly shouting “Expelliarmus!” The man flies back and hits his head hard against the hearth of the fireplace and his wand flies across the room. The man and T look at each other across the room and the man begins to crawl slowly backward against the wall the light of the fireplace flickering across his face.
T: Let’s play a game.
T slides his wand into the inseam of his robe slowly reciting the statement of rights. His voice is gruff and his smile is demonic.
T: You are being detained by the Ministry of Magic. You have the right to refuse to speak in your own defense. If you refuse to accompany me I have been deputized to use force. You also have the right to council which will be provided by the Wizengamot. Do you understand these rights?
T kneels morphing into a panther as he moves from standing to on his hands and knees. After his transformation is complete he springs to the left of the shot growling. The camera pans over to Annabelle, laying on the ground in front of an open drawer glowing pink the front of her robes are covered in blood and she is still writhing in pain and her mouth is open in a silent scream. The shadows of T and the Man struggling in front of the flame are cast across Annabelle, the drawer, and the wall too big and chaotic to decipher what is happening but the scene is disturbing shot in silence with a score over the chaotic scene. Then shadows stop moving and T crawls back into frame soaked in blood from his mouth down all over his front. He crawls over to Annabelle, still writhing and with a look of fear and pain on her face, lifts her head into his lap. He takes out his wand and touches it to her forehead and a look of peace comes across her face and she stops struggling. He then touches his wand to the auror patch on his robe and it changes color. A few moments linger as the two sit on the ground both with the same look on their face. Suddenly people (cut off at the waist so you can only see their legs begin to appear. As the legs begin to appear the camera stays focused on T who is stroking Annabelle’s hair.
After a long black out the shot opens on a doorknob. A Hand grabs the knob and turns and pushes it open. Shot to a shoe rack full of men’s shoes and a pair of feet enter the shot and kick off their shoes. Shot to a table containing a wallet and a smartphone plugged in and a hand drops a pair of keys and a money bag next to them. Focuses on a wet bar and then two hands pick up a tumbler and a bottle of brown liquid and poor into the tumbler until the bottle is empty then the hands put down the bottle. Shot of T standing in his living room (looks like a typical muggle flat with a few eccentricity) he walks into his room and within a few moments walks out now having changed. He is wearing a three piece suit now instead of his wizards’ robes and walks out the apartment picking up something from the table with his keys, wallet, and money pouch. The final shot focuses on the table which still holds his auror’s patch and money pouch but is missing the keys wallet and cell phone.
Scene opens on a crowded bar, upscale but not upbeat. More of a lounge than a club. Establishing shot of the bar so the audience can be centered in the scene, after which we see a woman standing by the bar. T notices her, catches the bartender’s eye and gestures to his glass and nods his head toward the woman. He moves along the bar and sits next to her.
T: Beautiful girl like you has got to get bored in a place like this.
Lydia: I’m perfectly able to entertain myself, thanks.
T: What if I told you I was bored then?
Lydia: That sounds like a real issue for you.
T: I was told you were the one to come to with any problems concerning boredom.
Lydia: And who told you that?
T gestures to a corner of the bar
T: That guy. Said, “Karen can help you with your boredom.”
Lydia: I bet you Karen could help you with that.
T: You’re not Karen? (fake surprise) Well shit I have made a mistake. Put my foot right in my mouth haven’t I? If you’re not Karen, what do I call you?
T: Lydia, wow…
Lydia: Let me guess, beautiful name? Maybe even the same as your mother’s?
T: Now why would I say that? My mother’s name is Bailey. Now, that’s a beautiful name. Lydia is a solid name for sure, but nothing to write home about.
Lydia: You’re a confident fucker aren’t you?
T: No no no no. I’m a wizard.
Lydia: Bold, most “wizards” I don’t think would admit to something like that outside of Las Vegas. You do kids parties? Can you pull a rabbit out of my purse?
T: No, nothing like that, it’s actually magic.
T: Would I lie to you, Lydia? No. I wouldn’t. (silence for a beat) How about this: if I can convince you something is really magic, no tricks, no illusions, you let me buy you a drink.
Lydia: I will take you up on that.
T: (to the bar tender) Water please. (to Lydia) So what’s your favorite drink?
Lydia: Rum and coke. You going to turn my water into wine?
T: Rum and coke, but it’s the same basic principle.
The bartender puts the water on the bar and talks away. T spins his finger a few inches above the glass like he is stirring the water. The water stands still for a moment and he glances up at Lydia who is smirking back. The camera cuts to T’s wand which he is holding by his side and he begins to spin it. The water turns slowly at first and then faster and faster and begins to turn brown until T stops and the liquid settles. And he gently slides it toward Lydia who has a look of bemusement on her face.
T: I’m not sure how good it will be, I’m no bartender after all.
She picks it up and takes a sip.
Scene opens in T’s apartment lights off and focused on the front door. Which bursts open, Lydia and T entwined. What follows next is your standard HBO for the bucks sex scene a little TnA some strategically placed camera angles, all that good stuff.
Over the bed shot, T and Lydia are laying in the bed—you know how it goes.
Lydia: (sarcastic) So, you’re a real life wizard?
T: Can I show you something?
They get up and walk out of the bedroom into the living room. He leads her over to the couch in front of a large TV and stereo and sits down. He looks up and she follows his gaze. Reveal a sky full of stars and a moon shining brightly where the ceiling should be.
T: Sky over Tenby.
Lydia: What are you just an accountant by day, wizard by night?
T: No, most wizards don’t have anything to do with non-magical world actually.
Lydia: Really? How many are there?
T: A few thousand in the UK alone but there’s wizards all around the world.
Lydia: How have I never heard about thousands of wizards living in England?
T: It’s illegal for one.
Lydia: What do you mean?
T: The magical world is supposed to stay separate from your world. It’s enforced by our government.
Lydia: But you told me, what happens when someone finds out?
T: Depends, if it’s on a massive scale a team of wizards are brought in to clean up and wipe memories. If it’s on a smaller scale individual wizards are held responsible for upholding the statute or face punishment.
Lydia: (pausing) You’re going to wipe my memory?
T: (hesitating) Yes.
The two sit in silence staring up at the stars still. Then, Lydia turns quickly on the couch looking away from the stars and directly at T.
Lydia: So why me?
T: Why you?
Lydia: Why that bar? Why tonight? Why me?
T: I just went out for a drink.
Lydia: Did you know I was coming home with you tonight.
T takes a long pause and looks at Lydia for the first time in the conversation.
T: Most wizards don’t associate with muggles—
T: Non-magical people.
T: Most wizards don’t bother with them, there are some that were born as muggles but those that grew up in the wizarding world rarely ever come in contact with your world. Most people think I’m crazy for living here in this apartment instead of living in Little Whinging or Ottery St. Catchpole. They don’t understand why I go to these pubs or drive a car. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen is your eyes when you see something that truly amazes you. I miss that feeling, pure joy.
They pauses and he strokes the side of her face then leans back in the couch and looks back up at the stars. Lydia looks at him a moment longer then smiles.
Lydia: Tase? Is that like a wizard name.
T: (chuckling) Bulgarian.
Lydia: You don’t look Bulgarian.
T: Only half.
Lydia: So, T, the half Bulgarian wizard who frequents—muggle pubs, what is it you do when you’re not impressing girls with your magic.
T: I’m an auror. It’s a lot like your…FBI, is that right?
Lydia: That’s the Americans, here we have MI-5.
T: And you Lydia? You love books, rum and coke, and bad pop music. Tell me what you do.
She stands and takes his hand and leads him back to the bedroom.
The sun shines through the window in T’s bedroom as the camera opens on the floor next to the bed where a pile of clothes lays. The camera pans down the beam of light stopping on the bed where Lydia lies sleeping and T, on his side, is watching her. She wakes slowly:
Lydia: You want to get breakfast?
T: (laughing) I’m already late for work; I’ve got to get you home.
Lydia: Shit what time is it?
Lydia: Can you take me to the office?
T: Yeah, no problem.
She gets up putting on her close T watches silently from the bed.
T: What do you want to have done last night?
Lydia: (pausing) What?
T: After you leave the bar, what do you want to think you did?
Lydia: You don’t have to. I won’t tell anyone.
T: I do.
He gets up and starts getting dressed in robes.
T’s car pulls up outside a tall office building. Before Lydia opens the door she turns to T:
Lydia: I go to that bar a lot. I love old black and white movies and Agatha Christie books.
T: I can—
Lydia: Have we met before?
Lydia: I hope we meet again T.
She steps out the car and T takes out his wand as she walks toward the entrance. With a regretful look he waves his wand and Lydia pauses briefly, then continues walking.
T walks into the office and through the desks. He gets to his and opens the drawer and picks up a folder. He looks back at Forsynth sitting in his office. Forsynth gestures to the right. T walks to a door to the right of Forsynth’s office and pushes open the door. He walks in and at the table is a man chained loosely to a desk and leaning in the corner is a tall wizard in robes.
T: Sorry, I kept you all waiting. Hope you didn’t have too much fun without me.
Jax: He’s not talking.
T: Would have expected nothing else.
Man: Where are my brothers?
Jax: He does keep saying that over and over again though.
T: Why don’t I tell you what I know? I know you were in a house that we have confirmed as a Dreamer house. I know you attacked an official of the ministry. And I know we have you on use of an unforgivable curse. I know that you’re looking at life in Azkaban.
T: What I don’t know is where you got the Dreamer from. Now if you can give us some information to stop the Dreamer supplies we can discuss a lighter sentence.
T: We don’t like Dreamer do we Jax.
Jax: No, no we don’t like it at all.
T: Super addicting, dulls magical ability over time, and in some cases leads to death.
Jax: Yeah it’s a mother fucker. Real blight on the city—that’s what the ministery keeps telling us.
T: He might not understand how much we hate Dreamer. I don’t think he understands how much I hate running into Day Dreamers, wands useless with vacant expressions on their face. It’s a class B non-tradable object. Which means destroy on sight.
Jax: It’s taken some great wizards from us.
T: So we take this shit personally.
T takes out a small vile and places it on the table in between him and the man. Then he waves his wand. The originally loose chains tighten locking the man’s arms to the arms of the chair he is sitting in.
T: This is veritus serum—in case you were unaware. Now technically it has been outlawed in interrogations but in extreme situations we can usually get away with it. The problem is, where is the fun in that? Now you’ve asked about your brothers. If I give you what you want, you give me what I want?
T takes out the folder dropping photos one by one on the table in front of the man.
T: Here is one of your brothers. Dead. Another—dead. Here is a man we found in a Dreamer house, I’m not sure if this is also your brother. Dead. And this is a picture of me, and here (pointing at the last photo he dropped) is all the dreamer we found at that house.
He looks up at the man who stares at the pictures in shocked horror. After a moment he jumps trying to free his hands the chair but falls back into his seat.
Man: Fuck you! We’ll kill you.
T: Now certainly you don’t mean you; you must’ve realized by now you’re going to die in prison. Unless we can work something out. So who is we? I’m assuming this (sliding the picture forward) is Gospodar. This is your boss right?
T: Sorry you’re right—was your boss.
Man: You have no idea what you’ve just done.
T: Tell me! Tell me who is coming for me. How many brothers could you possibly have?! Ugly little shit like you, who’s making more than one?
Jax: I don’t know man, maybe his mom was a whore.
The man spits at Jax who waves his wand lazily and it falls limply to the ground.
T: Now, everyone who can protect you is dead. Except me. I can help you. And you can help yourself. All you have to do is give me a name. I could’ve found that name anywhere I’ve raided two Dreamer houses in the past two days, who’s to say it was you who gave me the name.
The man leans back in his chair. Still with a furious look on his face but visibly softening.
Man: I want a private cell, they can get to me in Azkaban.
Jax: We can do that.
Man: And I want a reduced sentence.
T: Let’s hear how good your information is first.
Man: Just you, I can’t trust him (nodding towards Jax) he could have anyone in the ministry.
T looks back at Jax who shrugs and exits through the door.
T: Okay, you tell me what you know. And I’ll do what I can for you.
Man: We work for a man (cough) I’ve never seen him. Gospodar was in charge, he was the one who met with him.
T: What is Gospodar’s real name?
Man: We were never told anyone’s name, just that they were our brothers now (cough).
T: A mysterious man, without a name or face is hardly much help to me.
Man: (cough cough) No I have more (cough).
T: You need water?
The man starts to cough more violently but waves off the water.
Man: (cough) I heard him talking to him in the fireplace one night. He called him—
The man begins to cough violently and can’t even talk through the coughing.
T: Jax, get in here!
T pulls out his wand and grabs a glass from a table in the corner.
He pushes the full glass toward the man who, still coughing, picks it up and takes a swig but coughs it out before he can swallow. Jax bursts in just as the man begins to cough up blood.
Jax: Shit! Anapneo!
The man continues to cough up blood then there is a sound of metal hitting metal and he stops coughing and falls forward in his chair, still held tightly by the restraints.
Jax: What the fuck just happened?
T picks up the metal object that came from the man’s mouth. It’s a small rectangular metal object with an insignia on it. The insignia begins to glow like hot coals.
T drops the object back on the table and the blood around it begins to boil and bubble and the metal disk begins to melt until it mixes with the blood on the table. The camera focuses on the silver and crimson pool then the shot fades out.
Scene opens on T sitting in his apartment on the couch in front of the television which is off at this point. He leans forward and leans over the living coffee table. Looking down at the table we see him rolling around between his two hands a glowing pink vile. He places it down and stares at it for a long moment. Then he gets up and puts it on the kitchen counter and returns to the couch. Then he picks up the remote, off of A Murder on the Orient Express which the camera holds on for a moment. Then we see T turn on the TV and a movie starts. As the opening of Casablanca (or possibly something with an opening monologue) plays the camera focuses on the Dreamer bottle. The final shot is the Dreamer bottle in focus, framed from behind by the light of the TV as the black and white movie plays. The shot fades before the sound of the film which fades as the credits begin.