Hollywood: Lights, Ink, Entertainment!

….

America - Los Angeles.

On the day of [Harry Potter and the Successor Stone] release.

….

The automatic doors of the multiplex open, releasing a wave of cool air mixed with the scent of buttered popcorn.

David shuffled through, his shoulders slightly hunched in resignation, while beside him, eight-year-old Emma practically bounced on her toes, her eyes wide with anticipation.

"Uncle David, do you think we got good seats?" Emma asked, clutching her small bag of candy that she had insisted on buying despite David's protests about the outrageous concession prices.

"I am sure we have found a good spot." David replied, his tone carrying the weariness of a man who had been dragged from his comfortable Saturday afternoon routine of lazing around.

His expression was the very picture of reluctant participation - 'This is happening to me, not because of me'.

Emma, meanwhile, was practically vibrating with excitement.

She had been talking about this movie for weeks, ever since the first trailer had aired and she even made her uncle David pinky promise - that they would go opening weekend, and despite his complete lack of enthusiasm for what he knew would be two and a half hours of child-friendly entertainment, he had kept his word.

They navigated through the lobby, past the cardboard cutouts and promotional displays, until they reached their theater.

The auditorium was already filling up with families and the kids in the lead.

"There!" Emma pointed to two seats about halfway up. "They are perfect!"

David nodded and followed her lead, settling into the plush red seat, while Emma immediately began arranging her snacks and bouncing slightly in her seat, her legs swinging freely since her feet didn't quite touch the floor.

Soon, the theater was packed, filling up almost eighty percent.

People of all ages - parents, children, teenagers - had gathered for what was easily the most anticipated movie of the year.

…Well, at least for them.

For David, currently in the sixth row, seat 11C - it wasn't much more than just another kids' movie. He looked mildly amused at best, uninterested at worst.

Soon the film began with title card appearing -

[Harry Potter and the Sorcerer Stone]

- followed by a sweeping orchestral swell that filled the theater.

David sighed internally.

He had read this damn book…

What, forty times? Maybe more? Surely not because he loved it.

But because this girl, his niece, had requested it every other night as her bedtime story and because, despite his opinions on wand-waving nonsense, he loved her more than he disliked fantasy.

Then - the film began.

The first shot faded in under a canopy of night: a strangely empty British street bathed in orange sodium lamps.

A cat sat stiffly on a brick wall, watching the street like a sentinel.

Nothing unusual yet.

But then came the man in the long purple cloak.

A lighter in hand - not to smoke, but to snuff out the streetlamps one by one.

The device in his hand clicked with each capture of light, sucking it into the silver tube.

Hmm, that was… kind of cool.

David thought as he continued watching.

Beside him soon appeared a stern-faced woman in emerald robes, Professor McGonagall, whom he recognized easily, thanks to his late-night readings.

It continued with what David had come to think of as the "mysterious adults being mysterious" scene. They were having one of those conversations that adults have when they want to sound important and cryptic at the same time.

Emma was already completely absorbed as she watched the two professors discuss the significance of the day and the tragedy that had befallen the wizarding world.

David, meanwhile, found himself mentally cataloging all the ways the film differed from the book.

Then came the thunder.

Like literally...

A roar from above, and a motorcycle flew through the fog.

Not a cartoon looking one or some janky green-screen mess. A real, heavy machine, roaring through the clouds, headlights blinding, landing with weight.

Robin Williams - huge, warm, and entirely believable, hopped off the bike.

This was Hagrid, the half-giant.

The one who did…

Well, stuff, hard to pin down that character - one moment he is delivering babies and in the next, raising dragons - but for now he was clutching a baby wrapped in blankets.

Harry.

A scar of lightning bolt just visible on the child's forehead.

Emma gasped softly beside him, even though she had heard this story dozens of times before.

"He's so little…" she whispered, as if seeing baby Harry for the first time.

The scene continued as the gentle giant carefully handed over baby Harry to Dumbledore.

"Albus." McGonagall said sharply. "Are you sure about this?"

"He will be safest here." Dumbledore replied, placing the baby on the Dursleys' doorstep. "Far from the fame and the wizarding world."

The man watching squinted.

Wait.

You are saying the best plan you have got is to dump a baby with the worst family in Britain?

David didn't say it aloud.

But the memory of all those nights reading this same logic to a child came back and still didn't sit right with him.

And then the screen faded to black.

A title card appeared: Eleven Years Later.

The film leapt forward to a tight, miserable cupboard under the stairs.

The camera pulled back slowly to reveal a scrawny boy curled up on a thin mattress.

Harry.

David was already sympathetic, the audience could feel it, then the man glanced sideways - his niece's mouth was open slightly.

She is reeling like this… huh?

The Dursleys were as awful as he remembered, Vernon was a blowhard, Petunia was shrill and pinched, and Dudley… the man actually laughed.

That kid was cartoonishly horrible.

From his birthday tantrum to counting how many presents he had received - and being upset that there were 'only thirty-seven' - the absurdity made even the skeptical uncle crack a grin.

David glanced again at his niece.

She didn't even notice his smile. She was locked in, watching as Harry was dragged along to the zoo.

That zoo scene.

It was one of the moments he actually remembered vividly from the book.

And sure enough, the scene was delivered.

Harry stood in front of the glass.

The python blinked lazily at him, Vernon's camera clicked and Dudley whined about not getting a reaction from the snake.

Then - something subtle happened.

The glass vanished and Dudley fell in.

The snake slithered out, hissing thanks at Harry.

The girl beside him gasped with joy.

Emma giggled as Harry accidentally released the snake and trapped his cousin in the enclosure, her sense of justice satisfied by seeing the bully get his comeuppance.

As for David? He was… intrigued.

The CGI was clean and more practical than expected - real snake footage blended cleverly with digital tweaking - and most surprisingly of all, Harry just kind of accepted it.

Like… "Oh cool. Talking snakes makes sense."

That was funny.

Really funny.

And then - slam.

Back under the stairs.

There was no dinner… scene.

Just a scared, underfed boy and a family refusing to explain anything.

Then came the letters.

David almost wanted to lean over and whisper to Emma. "Guess what? The letter is from Hogwarts and Harry's a wizard. Sorry if that's a spoiler." But of course, Emma was completely absorbed in the "mystery" of it all, gasping at each dramatic mail-snatching scene as if she didn't already know exactly how this was going to end.

First it was only one.

Then a few more.

Then dozens.

Then hundreds.

Owls perched on the mailbox, owls perched on the roof, owls smashing into the fireplace.

David chuckled…

Okay. This part was working, they had leaned into the comedy of it.

Then came Hagrid.

BOOM–!

The door was gone, splinters in its place.

The enormous man stood in the doorway, towering, grinning, completely unconcerned about smashing into someone's living room.

Emma clapped her hands together in delight as Hagrid announced Harry's wizarding heritage and presented him with a birthday cake that looked like it had been decorated by someone wearing oven mitts.

"You are a wizard, Harry." Hagrid declared, and Emma mouthed the words along with him.

And the whole theater went silent.

For a long second after that line—You're a wizard, Harry—the man just sat there.

Definitely not because the line was shocking or because he didn't see it coming, he'd read it enough times that even the punctuation was memorized, but because of how it was delivered.

...and funny enough, there wasn't anything overly dramatic about it.

Hagrid didn't shout it or put on a show, it was said simply, like a truth that had just been waiting to land.

Like an old fact returning home.

It made something stir, quietly, in the back of his throat maybe, or somewhere behind his ribs.

Onscreen, Harry blinked. "I'm a what?"

And the room - the shack, the storm, the oil lanterns - all felt a little more real than the man was expecting. It wasn't just CGI and sound design.

There was a tangibility to it.

And as the man leaned forward, something caught his attention.

The weight.

Every time Hagrid moved - there was weight.

The floor creaked beneath his boots, the lantern swung just a little, when he handed Harry the misspelled cake, it wasn't some cheap prop - the icing was smudged, the color slightly uneven, the chocolate clearly melting a little under the lights.

It reminded him suddenly of something Regal - the director - had been praised for in an earlier interview.

Something about 'weight simulation' and how he insisted that danger in fantasy meant nothing unless the objects in the world obeyed physics.

He remembered someone saying, "You don't need to believe the troll is real, you just need to believe the club is."

And it was that same logic Regal had carried over into scenes like this.

Even Hagrid's coat - layers of leather and wool, flecked with moisture - looked heavy. When he pulled the umbrella from his side, it wasn't a clean, theatrical wand flourish. It was clunky, and unwieldy.

"You mean to tell me." David muttered quietly. "they actually thought about this?"

His niece turned to him with a grin. "Shhh!"

Right, back to it.

David watched as the Dursleys tried to prevent Hagrid from taking Harry away, and realized that these people who hated this child were still trying to save him from what they believed to be a dangerous world.

Of course, they failed spectacularly, but the effort was there.

The scene ended with Hagrid giving Dudley a pig's tail - which Emma found absolutely hilarious - and then he was leading Harry away toward his new life in the magical world.

David settled back in his seat, knowing they were only getting started.

He glanced at Emma, who was completely mesmerized by the unfolding adventure, and felt a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth despite himself.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

They were now in Diagon Alley.

.

….

[To be continued…]

★─────⇌•★•⇋─────★

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