….
LIE Studios.
The office was quiet. Rock stood in his spot near the door, with his usual expression.
The announcement had gone out twenty four hours ago, and the internet was still processing - still raging, defending, and feeling.
Chris sat in the chair across from Regal's desk, holding a printed email.
He had been staring at it for the past three minutes, expression shifting between amusement and something deeper.
"Listen to this." he said finally, voice slightly rough.
Regal looked up from his laptop. Gwendolyn turned from the window where she had been standing silently.
Chris cleared his throat and began reading:
"Dear LIE Studios,
My name is Marcus and I am 10 years old. My dad is writing this for me because his typing is faster but these are MY words.
I heard the Harry Potter movie is delayed because it takes a long time to finish. I wanted to tell you that me and my friends can help. There are six of us and we're all really good at different things:
- I am good at computers
- Jake is good at art
- Emma is good at organizing things
- Tyler is really strong so he can carry heavy stuff
- Sophia is good at math
- And Sam is good at making people feel better when they're sad
We talked about it at recess and we decided we would all work for free if it means the movie comes out faster. We don't need money. We just really want to see it.
My dad says you probably won't say yes but I told him it doesn't hurt to ask. He says I'm right about that.
Please think about it.
Sincerely,
Marcus Thompson and the Harry Potter Helper Squad
P.S. - We're available after school and on weekends.
P.P.S. - My dad added this part: I know you won't actually take my son up on his offer, but I wanted you to know how much your work means to him. Thank you for caring enough to get it right."
….
Chris's voice cracked slightly on the last line.
He lowered the paper, and for a moment, he just sat there, staring at it.
Then he laughed - a short, choked sound that was half-humor, half-something else entirely.
"The Harry Potter Helper Squad?" he said quietly, shaking his head. "Six kids, ready to work for free. As long as it doesn't interfere with homework."
Regal leaned back in his chair, something tightening in his chest.
"Did they include a resume?" he asked, trying for lightness.
Chris glanced up at him, eyes a little too bright. "No. But I think Tyler's strength section was very clearly defined. Very role-ready."
Gwendolyn smiles at their innocence.
"They don't understand delays or pipelines or how long these things actually take." she said. "All they are aware of is they are waiting, and they think if they do their part, if they help, it will get here sooner."
Chris set the letter down on the desk carefully, like it was something precious.
"It hasn't been long since I joined the industry." he said quietly. "But I believe I have observed actors who could carry a scene without saying a word, cinematographers who could turn an empty room into something unforgettable, crews who would run on fumes just to make a deadline."
He let out a quiet breath. "But no one has ever offered to help me finish a film for free just because they couldn't wait to watch it."
He rubbed his face, composing himself.
"And the father's note at the end..." Chris's voice wavered. "Thanking us for caring enough to get it right. Like we are doing them a favor by delaying."
Regal scrolled through his laptop, pulling up more reactions he had been cataloging. "There is more. A lot more."
He turned the screen toward Chris and Gwendolyn.
"In Portland, someone organized a countdown chain funeral." he said. "They held a mock service. Someone even wrote a eulogy in crayon."
"There is a six-year-old who asked if Santa could help movies get finished faster. Apparently, that seemed reasonable to him."
"The teenager whose best friend is moving before the new release date. She said we ruined her life."
"The four-year-old who thinks Harry Potter is sick and needs to rest."
Each one hit differently with a small emotional gut-punch.
Chris leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. "I knew people would be disappointed. I expected anger, frustration, and complaints about the delay. But I didn't expect..." He gestured helplessly at the screen. "This... I didn't expect it to feel like we personally hurt them."
Gwendolyn chuckled. "As if we let them down."
"Yeah."
Regal didn't respond immediately.
He scrolled through a few more posts.
A teenage girl who'd done the math on exactly how many minutes she'd have to wait.
A seven-year-old dictating messages about why movies needed to 'sleep'.
A thirteen-year-old rage-posting on their blog while their parents tried to explain quality control.
"We still made the right call." Regal said at last. His voice was calm, but subdued. "Delaying it was necessary."
"I know." Chris replied. "That doesn't make it any easier to sit with."
Gwendolyn finally turned from the window, and they could both see her eyes were red.
"I keep thinking about the first book." she said. "Back when it was just an idea. When we didn't even know if anyone would care, and believing felt like a small, private thing."
She walked over, leaning against Regal's desk.
"Now there are children writing mock eulogies for countdown chains because waiting hurts that much." she continued, voice unsteady.
Regal reached for her hand. She took it immediately, holding on.
"That's what we put into the world." she continued. "Something that matters enough for them to organize around…" She gestured at Chris's letter. "Even go as far as to offer their childhood free time for."
"They will understand eventually." Chris said, though he didn't sound entirely convinced. "When they see the finished film and experience what we were protecting."
"Or they will remember the wait." Gwendolyn said. "That the movie they were counting on for Christmas didn't arrive."
Regal squeezed her hand gently. "They will remember both. The anticipation and the moment it finally pays off. That's part of caring about something."
She looked at him, searching.
"This was meant to be good." she whispered. "We are protecting it by taking our time. So why does it feel like we are causing pain instead?"
"Because they love it." Regal said simply. "And love is messy. Love doesn't care about post-production schedules or 3D convergence or technical excellence. Love just wants what it wants, when it wants it."
Chris stood, walking to the window where Gwendolyn had been moments before.
He stared out at the city lights - thousands of them, each one potentially representing someone who cared about this film.
"There was a kid who asked if Harry Potter was sick." he said quietly. "If that was why he couldn't come to the movies yet. Because when someone is sick, they need time to recover."
He turned back to face them.
"That might not be such a bad way to see it. The film needs time to become what it's meant to be before we send it out."
Gwendolyn nodded.
"I published that first book because I believed in it." she said. "I risked my reputation and savings, because I thought it mattered. And it still does." She took a shaky breath. "I just didn't expect it to grow into this - feeling tied to the happiness of so many people. From little Marcus and his Helper Squad to the girl counting down the days before her friend moves."
"You are not responsible for their happiness." Regal said, stepping closer. "You are responsible for the story. Making sure that when they finally see it, it earns everything they are feeling now."
"And if it's not?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
"It will." Chris said, steady. "Because we are doing exactly what Marcus's father thanked us for - taking the time to get it right."
Rock who was standing still moved, his usual stoic expression softening almost imperceptibly when he saw Gwendolyn's face.
Without a word, without being asked, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket - crisp, white, perfectly folded, and crossed the room to hand it to her.
Gwendolyn stared at it for a moment, surprised by the gesture, then took it with a watery laugh.
"Thank you, Rock."
He nodded once - a small, dignified acknowledgment - then resumed his position by the door, as if offering comfort was simply another responsibility in his undefined job description.
Gwendolyn dabbed at her eyes.
"Three months." she said, voice still unsteady.
"Yeah…" Chris agreed.
"And then we show them it was worth it." Regal added, his arm around her shoulders now.
Gwendolyn looked at Chris's letter still sitting on the desk, then at the laptop screen showing countless reactions - the angry ones, the understanding ones, the heartbroken ones, the hopeful ones.
"It better be worth it." she whispered. "For their sake, and ours."
Chris picked up his letter, folding it carefully and slipping it into his jacket pocket.
"I am keeping this." he said. "And when we premiere this film - when Marcus and his Helper Squad and everyone else finally sees it, I want to remember how much it meant."
He looked at both of them.
"This delay isn't just about polish or technical standards. It's about respecting how much they have put into this already - their excitement, their patience, and the belief that this story is worth holding onto."
Outside, the city continued its endless rhythm.
Somewhere out there, Marcus was probably asleep, dreaming of helping make movies.
Kids were counting down new calendars.
Parents were explaining patience to children who'd never learned to wait for something they loved this much.
And in three months, they would all find out if the wait meant anything.
But for now, in this quiet office, three people who had built something extraordinary sat with the weight of what they had created - the joy and the responsibility, the love and the guilt, the pride and the fear.
Gwendolyn settled herself beside Regal.
Regal kept his arm around her, solid and steady.
Chris touched his pocket where Marcus's letter rested.
And they hoped - desperately, fiercely - that it would be enough.
By the end of the day, the announcement had generated over 2 million social media mentions, 847 online articles, and countless conversations in living rooms, classrooms, and playgrounds across the world.
The reaction was messy, emotional, divided, and deeply, undeniably human.
Some people understood, others raged and few didn't care.
But everyone had an opinion.
And in three months, they would all find out if the wait was worth it.
.
….
[To be continued…]
★─────⇌•★•⇋─────★
Author Note:
Visit Patreon to instantly access +1 chapter for free, available for Free Members as well.
For additional content please do support me and gain access to +14 more chapters.
--> [email protected]/OrgoWriters