Chapter 63 — The Premiere of Two Worlds
August 1990
The day dawned crisp and bright across both the United Kingdom and North America, heralding an event unseen in either the Muggle or Wizarding worlds: the simultaneous premiere of HOGWARTS LEGENDS: CHAPTER 1 – OF VALOR AND MAGIC (Part One).
In a grand wizarding theatre nestled in central London, golden chandeliers flickered as magical lanterns projected ethereal colors across the marble floor. In New York, Times Square's largest cinema readied a massive 35mm reel projector, its gears humming in anticipation. Outside, long lines of Muggle families chatted excitedly, many having only heard whispers of a "Ron Weasley" and his extraordinary, ten-year-old filmmaking abilities. They did not know the magic behind it. Inside the wizarding theatre, witches, wizards, and magical citizens shuffled in robes and gowns, their eyes glittering with anticipation, while Squibs craned to see over the crowd.
The lights dimmed. A hush fell over the mixed audience.
At the very start, the screen shimmered and a hush fell across all. A single, faint whisper of runic incantations filled the air. Slowly, letters appeared on the black screen, glowing softly, then twisting, stretching, and melting into molten threads of gold and silver. Flames licked their edges without burning the cinema, intertwining and weaving with impossible precision. Finally, the luminous threads solidified into a majestic emblem: the Legendary Pictures logo, recreated in Ron's magical vision. It glowed with a subtle pulse, almost breathing, before fading gently into the first line of special thanks.
Special Thanks:
Albus Dumbledore, Patron
Madam Pomfrey, Healer and Consultant
Professor McGonagall, Advisor
Arthur & Molly Weasley, Family Support
Director Bishop, Executive Producer
Dedicated to those who still believe in courage.
A ripple of awe swept through the audience. Some Muggles whispered to their neighbors, "It's… magical, somehow. Did they use CGI?" while witches murmured, "The runes… I've never seen such runic projection before. Remarkable."
Then, the film began.
From the very first scene, the audience was thrust into the world of Gryffindor. The camera floated above misty forests and ruined villages, showing small, solitary figures stepping onto battle-scarred landscapes. Smoke rose from destroyed homes, and the faint glimmer of magical energy lingered in the air. The wizarding audience immediately recognized the subtle magical effects—they had been carefully woven into every frame by Ron himself, from enchanted cameras to illusion-enhanced smoke.
A young Hogwarts student, eyes wide in amazement, whispered to her friend:
"He's… only ten? That can't be. Look at him, he's commanding every frame."
A Muggle critic in New York, glasses slightly askew, scribbled furiously in a notebook:
"The choreography of battle, the pacing… extraordinary. Whoever this 'Ron Weasley' is, he has an innate cinematic eye far beyond his apparent years."
As Gryffindor strode across Godstone, sword in one hand and wand in the other, the emotions of the audience mirrored the hero's journey: grief, loss, determination. Wizarding families gasped at the realism, and Muggles sat forward in silent tension. Every swing of his sword, every uttered word, resonated across worlds.
A Ministry official attending the premiere quietly leaned toward a colleague:
"Do you see that? The boy captures… the essence. Not just of battle, but of grief. Of responsibility. Incredible for someone so young."
As the film progressed, Gryffindor's solitary confrontations became even more harrowing. He faced hunting squads, practiced in dark arts and sinister intentions. The witch hunting sequences were harrowing yet cinematic, their intensity tempered with the elegance of Ron's direction.
In the wizarding theatre, older witches muttered protective charms under their breath, unable to resist the urge to shield the projected characters. Meanwhile, a Squib sitting nearby muttered,
"I swear… I felt cold just watching that one scene. The realism is insane."
On screen, Gryffindor faced a trial by combat, standing alone against multiple assailants. The audience was held in a tension-filled silence. Even the Muggle side felt it—though unaware of the true magical depth, the cinematic suspense was tangible.
Throughout the film, small reactions punctuated the cinematic tension. A wizarding child hugged her seat, whispering prayers for Gryffindor's safety. A middle-aged Muggle woman quietly wept as a village burned, noting the bravery of one lone hero. Hogwarts professors, some with decades of experience, watched in silent, stunned awe.
Professor Flitwick leaned forward, whispering to a colleague,
"Notice the subtleties in his hand movements, the way he shifts weight. This is directing as much as acting—every frame is meticulously considered."
Meanwhile, Dumbledore, sitting slightly apart, took notes in his own journal. His expression was calm, but his eyes revealed a quiet pride and awe.
The boy… he has captured the spirit of Gryffindor. I knew it was ambitious, but this… surpasses even the most elaborate of my expectations.
As the movie neared its climax, Gryffindor stood before the army of five thousand, alone, his eyes blazing gold in the dim dawn light of Godstone. The audience felt the weight of the moment—the anticipation, the dread, and the undeniable heroism. The film ended before the first strike, with the army advancing.
A hush fell. In Muggle theatres, patrons held their breath. In wizarding theatres, even seasoned Aurors felt tension tighten their chests.
The end credits rolled in perfect synchrony across both worlds, the 35mm reel in Muggle cinemas and enchanted projections in wizarding halls. Then, the post-credit scene began:
• Rowena studying tactical maps in Northern Britain, realizing Gryffindor faces overwhelming odds.
• Helga leaving a refugee camp, determined to intervene and protect the innocent.
• Salazar moving silently through the shadows of Continental Europe, intrigued by Gryffindor's actions.
All three founders, separately, looking toward Godstone. A quiet note of anticipation and legend hung in the air.
A final title card appeared:
THE BATTLE OF GODSTONE CONTINUES IN PART 2
Three founders traveled to witness a war. They arrived to witness a legend.
The audience sat in silence for several heartbeats. Then, a collective exhale swept the theatres. Discussions erupted immediately.
A Muggle film critic in London:
"This… this is astonishing. The cinematography, the pacing, the suspense… a ten-year-old? Unbelievable. I've never experienced fantasy like this before."
A Hogwarts professor, whispering to a fellow teacher:
"His command of magic and narrative… it's unprecedented. And yet, the boy remains unseen, working behind the veil of his age."
A young witch beside her parents:
"Gryffindor… he was amazing! I felt like I was there, fighting beside him!"
An American Muggle teenager:
"I don't know what's real, but that battle scene… I've never been so tense. The hero standing alone against five thousand… insane."
Meanwhile, Ron's family watched nervously, proud but apprehensive. Arthur muttered,
"What do we do if this fails? He's… well, he's ten. And he's done everything himself."
Molly clasped her hands, biting her lip.
"He's brave. Let's just hope everyone sees it like we do."
Bishop, ever the practical Squib, smiled faintly, adjusting his glasses.
"I told you. The boy knows what he's doing. Every shot, every spell… it's all in place. People will notice."
Ron, in a quiet corner, watched reactions unfold across screens magically linked to other theatres. He smiled softly, feeling the pulse of emotion, the awe, the shared tension. His work, his vision, had bridged worlds.
And yet, even as applause erupted and cheers echoed, the story was only half-told. Gryffindor's confrontation with the army, the full scope of his trials, and the battle to come—all awaited the next installment.