A busy and crowded station. Full of people trying to go somewhere. Amongst the hustle and bustle, two large cages rattle on top of two laden trolleys. They’re being pushed by two boys, JAMES POTTER and ALBUS POTTER, their mother,
GINNY, follows after. A thirty-seven-year-old man, HARRY, has his daughter, LILY, on his shoulders.
ALBUS: Dad. He keeps saying it.
HARRY: James, give it a rest.
JAMES: I only said he might be in Slytherin. And he might so . . . (Off his dad’s glare.) Fine.
ALBUS (looking up at his mum): You’ll write to me, won’t you?
GINNY: Every day if you want us to.
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