The Importance of Being... Frank?

Scene - Morning room in Harry's flat in Crescent-Moon Street. The room is luxuriously and artistically furnished.

[Harry is sitting reading 'Quidditch through the Ages'. Enter Dobby.]

Dobby Dobby is announcing Mr Frank Worthing.

[Enter Ron. Exit Dobby.]

Harry How are you, Frank? What brings you here pleasure or business?

Ron Oh, pleasure, Harry. I am in love with Hermione. I have come to town to propose to her.

Harry I thought you had come up for pleasure? I call that business.

Ron You are totally unromantic!

Harry Proposing isn't romantic. It is very romantic to be in love. But when you propose, you are likely to be accepted! Then the excitement is over. If I ever get married, I will try to forget it. Anyway, I don't think you'll ever be married to Hermione.

Ron Why not?

Harry Firstly, a girl never marries the person she flirts with, and the way she flirts with you is perfectly disgraceful. Secondly, I don't give my consent.

Ron Your consent?

Harry Yes, I am Hermione's first cousin, by guardianship. And I won't allow you to marry her until you have told me who Ginny is. [Rings Bell.]

Ron Ginny! What do you mean by Ginny? I don't know a Ginny.

[Enter Dobby.]

Harry Dobby, please could you bring Mr Worthing's Quidditch book that he left the last time he was here.

Dobby Dobby thinks it is an honour to serve you, Mr Harry Potter, sir!

[Exit Dobby.]

Ron You've had my book all that time? Why didn't you tell me! I was getting rather worried. I was going to offer a generous reward for it's finding.

Harry I wish you still would!

[Enter Dobby. Hands Harry the book. Harry opens it and inspects the content. Exit Dobby.]

Harry It doesn't matter anyway. I've just realised. It isn't yours.

Ron Of course it's mine!

Harry No it isn't. The inscription says that someone called Ginny presented it, and you have already insisted you know of no one with that name!

Ron Ginny is my aunt, if you must know.

Harry Your aunt?

Ron Yes.

Harry Then why does she call herself little Ginny? [Reading.] 'From little Ginny with, her fondest love.'

Ron What does that matter? Some aunts are tall. Some are not. Surely my aunt is allowed to decide what size she is for herself.

Harry Alright, but why does she call you her uncle? [Reading.] 'From little Ginny, with her fondest love to her dear Uncle Ron.' No matter what size your aunt is there is no reason why she should call you her uncle! Besides, you name isn't Ron, it's Frank.

Ron My name is Ron, not Frank.

Harry But I have always introduced you as Frank. You look like a Frank. You're the most frank-looking person I know!

Ron: My name is Frank in the town and Ron in the country. The book was given to me in the country.

Harry: Then explain your small aunt who calls you her uncle?

Ron: I'll tell you if you give me my book back.

Harry: [Hands the book to Ron.] Now. Explain.

Ron: Old Mr. Weasley, who adopted me, made me guardian to his granddaughter, Miss Ginny Weasley, when he died. She refers to me as Uncle Ron, and lives at my place in the country, taught by her governess, Miss Sinistra.

Harry: Where about is your place?

Ron: It doesn't matter. I haven't invited you to visit. But I assure you it in not in Shropshire.

Harry: I suspected that, I have Snuffled all over Shropshire.

Ron: Snuffled?

Harry: Yes.

Ron: [Slightly bemused.] Anyway, in order to go to town, I have invented a younger brother called Frank, who gets into the most dreadful scrapes.

Harry: I always knew you were a secret Snufflest, now I have the proof.

Ron: Snufflest?

Harry: You have invented a brother to allow you to go to the city when you choose. I have invented a friend, Snuffles. If it wasn't for his extraordinary bad health, I wouldn't be able to go with you to 'The Three Broomsticks' tonight.

Ron: I haven't invited you to go out with me tonight?

Harry: I know. You are very careless about sending invitations. Not receiving invitations is very annoying. I'll make sure I receive all the invites you neglect to give me in the future.

Ron: [Gravely.] How considerate. You'd be better to dine with your Aunt Minerva.

Harry: Oh no! I have no intention of dinning with Aunt Minerva. I've already dined with her once this week. That was bad enough.

[Enter Dobby.]

Dobby: Dobby is announcing Lady McGonagall and Miss Granger.

[Enter McGonagall and Hermione.]

McGonagall: Good afternoon, dear Harry. I hope you are behaving very well.

Harry: I'm feeling very well, Aunt Minerva.

McGonagall: That's not quite the same thing. In fact the two things rarely go together.

Harry: [To Hermione.] You look wonderful.

Hermione: I always look wonderful! Do I not, Mr Worthing?

Ron: You are perfect, Miss Granger.

Hermione: Oh I hope not. Then I wouldn't be able to develop myself, and I intend to develop in many directions.

[Hermione and Ron sit in the corner of the room.]

McGonagall: I assume you will be dining with Miss Granger and myself this evening, Harry.

Harry: Unfortunately, I have received an owl from my poor friend Snuffles. He is very ill and they seem to think I should be with him.

McGonagall: Isn't it about time Mr Snuffles made his mind up whether he is going to live or die? This faltering with the question is quite absurd!

Harry: Yes. I need to run over the programme I've drawn out for you, if you would accompany me to the next room.

McGonagall: How thoughtful of you. [Exit Harry and McGonagall.]

Ron: Lovely weather this time of year, Miss Granger, don't you think.

Hermione: Oh, Frank! Don't talk to me about the weather! When people talk about the weather, I always feel that they mean something else.

Ron: I do mean something else.

Hermione: I thought so. In fact, I am never wrong.

Ron: Miss Granger, ever since I met you I have admired you more than any girl I have ever met since... well... I met you.

Hermione: [Nonchalantly.] Oh, I know, I do wish you had made more of a public display before. I have always though that I would fall in love with someone called Frank. It is name that inspires absolute confidence. As soon as Harry told me he had a friend called Frank, I knew that I loved you.

Ron: You really love me Hermione?

Hermione: Passionately!

Ron: Oh, Hermione! You don't know how happy I am.

Hermione: My own Frank!

Ron: You don't really mean that you couldn't love me if I were named anything other than Frank?

Hermione: Oh, but of course!

Ron: Well what about the name Ron. Couldn't you love a person called Ron?

Hermione: Ron? The name Ron has no music. The only reliable name is Frank.

Ron: Hermione, I must be christened at once - I mean we must be married at once.

Hermione: But you haven't proposed yet!

Ron: Hermione, will you marry me? [Goes on his knees.]

Hermione: Of course, I will. You've taken your time!

[Enter McGonagall.]

McGonagall: Mr Worthing! Get off the floor, immediately!

Hermione: Minerva! Please leave for a little longer. Mr Worthing has not quite finished yet. I'm getting engaged to Frank.

McGonagall: You are not getting engaged to anyone. If ever you are to get engaged, I will decide to whom it will be. An engagement should come as a surprise to a young girl, pleasant or unpleasant. It's not the sort of thing she should decide for herself. I have a few questions to put to you Mr Worthing. Hermione, wait outside.

Hermione: But...

McGonagall: Outside, Hermione.

[Exit Hermione.]

McGonagall: You realise that you are not on my list of eligible young men. I am more than ready to add you to it, if your following answers are suitable. How old are you?

Ron: Twenty-nine.

McGonagall: A very good age to be married at. I believe that everyman knows everything or nothing. Which do you know?

Ron: [After a pause.] I know nothing, Lady McGonagall.

McGonagall: I am pleased to hear it. Ignorance is a delicate exotic fruit, touch it and the bloom is gone. What is your income?

Ron: Around eight hundred galleons a year.

McGonagall: Not bad. Are your parents living?

Ron: I have lost both my parents.

McGonagall: To lose one parent, Mr Worthing, may be regarded as misfortune, to lose both looks like carelessness. Who was your father?

Ron: I'm afraid I don't know. I say I lost my parents, but it would be closer to say that they lost me. I was found.

McGonagall: Found!

Ron: The late Mr Weasley, found me and gave me the name of Worthing, because he happened to have a first-class ticket to Worthing in his pocket.

McGonagall: And where did he find you?

Ron: [Gravely.] In an owl cage.

McGonagall: An owl cage?

Ron: [Very seriously.] Yes. In the cloakroom of Kings Cross Station.

McGonagall: You're unknown past is not a stable situation for a girl to marry into. At this time I cannot allow you to marry Hermione.

Ron: [Distraught.] What! What must I do to prove myself to you?

McGonagall: I would strongly advise you to get some parent of either gender very soon.

Ron: Just find some parents? How am I going to do that?

McGonagall: I'm afraid I must go. Good morning Mr Worthing.

[Exit McGonagall in majestic indignation. Enter Harry.]

Harry: Didn't it go off all right? You don't mean to say Hermione refused? She is always refusing people. It's very ill natured of her.

Ron: Hermione was wonderful. Her guardian is perfectly unbearable. I've never met such a Gorgon... I really don't know what a Gorgon is like, but I am quite sure that Lady McGonagall is one.

Harry: By the way, did you tell Hermione the truth about you being Ron and not Frank?

Ron: Harry, Harry, Harry. The truth isn't the sort of thing you tell to a nice, sweet, refined girl, like Hermione. You have strange ideas about the way to behave to a woman!

Harry: The only to treat a woman is to make love to her, if she is pretty, and to someone else, if she is plain.

Ron: Nonsense.

Harry: And what about your brother?

Ron: Oh, he will have died by a sever chill before the end of the week. That gets rid of him. Ginny was a little too interested in him for my liking.

Harry: Poor girl! Won't she miss him?

Ron: Ginny is no a silly romantic girl. She has got a capital appetite, goes for long walks and pays no attention to any of her lessons.

Harry: I would rather like to meet this Ginny.

Ron: I'll make sure that you don't. She is excessively pretty, and she it only just eighteen.

Harry: It's nearly seven o'clock.

Ron: [Irritably.] Oh, it's always nearly seven with you.

Harry: Well I'm hungry. What shall we do after dinner? Go to a theatre?

Ron: No. I don't like listening.

Harry: Okay what about the club?

Ron: No. I don't like talking.

Harry: [Scraping the barrel.] We could go to a museum?

Ron: No! I don't like to look at things.

Harry: Well, what shall we do?

Ron: Nothing.

[Enter Dobby.]

Dobby: Dobby is announcing Miss Granger.

[Enter Hermione. Exit Dobby.]

Hermione: Harry, go and look at the fire. I've got to talk to Mr Worthing. Privately. [Harry retires to the fireplace with hesitance.]

Ron: Hermione!

Hermione: Frank, I don't think we'll ever be married, from the expression on Minerva's face. I may marry someone else, and marry often, but nothing that she can possibly do can alter my eternal devotion to you.

Ron: Hermione!

Hermione: The story of your origin is very romantic. Your first name has an irresistible fascination. What is you address in the country?

Ron: The Burrow, Woolten, Hertfordshire. [Harry, who has been listening all along, writes the address down and starts to look at a map for directions.]

Hermione: You have fast owls I suppose? I'll owl you every day!

Ron: And I will reply.

Hermione: When do you go back to the country?

Ron: Monday.

Hermione: Harry you may turn around now.

Harry: I already have.

Ron: I will see Miss Granger out.

[Exit Ron and Hermione. Enter Dobby.]

Harry: A glass of butterbeer, Dobby.

Dobby: Of course, Mr Harry Potter, sir. [Fetches a glass of butterbeer.]

Harry: Tomorrow, Dobby, I'm going Snuffling.

Dobby: Yes, Mr Harry Potter, sir.

Harry: I hope it's a nice day tomorrow.

Dobby: It never is, Mr Harry Potter, sir.

Harry: Dobby, you're a perfect pessimist.

Dobby: [Proudly.] Dobby does his best to give satisfaction, Mr Harry Potter, sir.

[Exit Dobby. Enter Ron.]

Ron: There's a sensible intellectual girl! I've never cared for anyone else. [Harry laughs.] What on earth are you so amused at?

Harry: I'm a little anxious about Snuffles.

Ron: If you're not careful, you pair will end up in some serious scrapes.

Harry: I love scrapes. They are the only things that aren't serious.

Ron: Nonsense, Harry. You never talk anything but nonsense!

Harry: Nobody ever does.

[Ron looks at him in annoyance. Exit Ron. Harry picks up his 'Quidditch through the Ages' book, reads the note with the address on, and smiles.]