Chapter Three
Uriel drifted off, to go sulk in a corner. Buckley drifted after him, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and proceeded to instruct him on the ins and outs of passing on from this plane and onto the next.
“Buckley is turning into a great death coach,” Jarrett said.
“He certainly is.”
We wandered over to the producer, who was tapping furiously on her smartphone, probably sending a missive to her own boss about what was going on. When we drifted into her ken, she didn’t even look up. “So? Is he gone?”
“I don’t think he’ll cause you any more trouble,” I said.
“That’s great. We’re behind schedule as it is.” Then she looked up and gave us a bright smile. She had a nice smile, and I instantly warmed to her. “Why don’t I give you the grand tour? I think you deserve it.” She glanced at Jarrett’s T-shirt. It depicted the three grinning faces of the original Harry Potter actors when they were kids. “I take it you’re a fan.”
“Oh, I’m a superfan,” Jarrett said. “So why didn’t you cast the original actors?”
“Because they’re too old?” I said. “Duh. Even I knew that, Jarrett.”
“They’re not too old. They could easily slip back into their parts.”
“It’s not because they’re too old,” Marsha said as she walked us off the Monte Carlo set. “It’s because this movie isn’t part of the original franchise.”
She had Jarrett’s attention. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that the studio has no intention to make more Harry Potter movies, or Miss Rowling to write more books, so we decided to jump into the hole they created and make our own trilogy—or quadrilogy, pentalogy or whatever the market demands.”
Jarrett looked like a kid who’d been robbed of his lollipop. “So this isn’t a JK Rowling sanctioned installment?”
“Nope. Afraid not.”
“But how is that even possible?”
“One of the uncredited screenwriters on one of the original movies retained the rights to certain aspects of the storyline—probably a clerical error on the part of the studio, mind you—and decided to approach us with an offer to expand on it, and turn it into a new trilogy. There was some legal wrangling with Warner Brothers and the production company but we finally got the go-ahead from the judge to create a spinoff.”
“Rowling mustn’t be happy about this.”
“She’s sore as a gumboil, but at this point she can’t prevent us from proceeding. We brought in two screenwriters from the James Bond franchise, and we’re taking the Harry Potter universe in a completely different direction.”
“What direction?” Jarrett asked suspiciously.
“You’ll see. More fun. More action.”
He arched an eyebrow. “More explosions? More car chases?”
She smiled. “More of everything.” Jarrett winced visibly, but the producer pretended not to notice. “The story will be a retread of Casino Royale, which will give us the opportunity to put a new spin on the tired old Harry Potter concept. We will see a grittier Harry, tougher and more world-weary, while he battles both his own demons and those in the real world.” She gave Harry a wink. “Are you ready to see Harry emerge from the sea, naked torso and six-pack abs and all?”
“Um…”
“I know I am,” said Jarrett, suddenly showing a spark of interest.
“And Harry will have a new love interest, of course,” said Marsha. “More than one, in fact. And Harry will finally kiss Hermione, of course.”
“He will?” I asked, disappointed. I’d always been on Team Ron.
“You know what would be truly novel and refreshing?” Jarrett asked. “If Harry and Ron got it on. I mean, who wants to see another kissing scene with tired old Hermione?”
“Um, I would,” I said, holding up my hand. “I like Ron and Hermione.”
“Well, I’d like to see Harry and Ron explore their smoldering passion,” he said stubbornly.
“Harry and Ron don’t have any smoldering passion.”
“They do, too. They just don’t want to admit it. Classic.”
Marsha laughed. “Maybe we’ll keep that for a future movie.”
She led us to the next gigantic soundstage, this one where the Hogwarts Great Hall was constructed.
“Wow,” I said, properly impressed. It looked just like in the movies, with the long tables where the houses sat, and the dais for the professors.
“Pretty cool, huh?” Marsha said. “This has cost us a fortune to recreate. Too bad we’ll have to demolish it.”
“Demolish it?” Jarrett asked, aghast.
“Yeah, the bad guy—Frank Riddle—is going to take it out with a missile attack. It’s going to be the opening of our movie. Great, big set piece.”
“Missile? What about magic?” Jarrett asked.
“Nope. No magic in this movie. Rowling owns the right to the magic.”
“No magic?” asked Jarrett, his voice a squeak.
“That’s right. No magic. This will be a non-magic Harry Potter.”
Jarrett gave me a look of despair and I shook my head. A lot of people were going to be disappointed in the new and improved Potter.
The producer led us to the next soundstage, this one where the interior shots of Hogwarts would be taken. The common room. The hallways. The classrooms. Jarrett was perking up again. “Now this is more like it. So Harry is going back to Hogwarts?”
Marsha gave him a frown. “Harry and the others graduated, Jarrett. You as a superfan should know that. No, we’re just going to use these sets to show a new generation being trained as witches and wizards, only to gruesomely die in the attack on the castle.” She waved her hand like a wand. “All these sets will be turned to rubble. It’s going to be awesome. When Harry stands on the ruins, his robe billowing around his bare thighs, he swears a solemn oath to avenge the deaths of these young witches and wizards, and thus the battle begins. Pretty awesome, huh?”
“Very,” Jarrett said, eyes glittering. I wondered if he was thinking about Harry’s bare thighs or the disaster this movie would turn out to be.
Start Reading A Tale of Two Harrys Now
About Nic
Nic Saint is the pen name for writing couple Nick and Nicole Saint. They’ve penned 60+ novels in the romance, cat sleuth, middle grade, suspense, comedy and cozy mystery genres. Nicole has a background in accounting and Nick in political science and before being struck by the writing bug the Saints worked odd jobs around the world (including massage therapist in Mexico, gardener in Italy, restaurant manager in India, and Berlitz teacher in Belgium).
When they’re not writing they enjoy Christmas-themed Hallmark movies (whether it’s Christmas or not), all manner of pastry, comic books, a daily dose of yoga (to limber up those limbs), and spoiling their big red tomcat Tommy.
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