"Sweethearts, after Mommy leaves you must lock the doors. No matter who knocks, don't open them, alright?"
"If you run into any problems—big or small—you call my mobile. If I don't answer, you call the police."
"I have several theater appointments today, so I won't be back for lunch. I made sandwiches for you—they're in the dining room. Don't go into the kitchen, don't touch the stove or the electrics. Mommy loves you, okay?"
The next morning, at nine o'clock, Vivian reluctantly said goodbye to her two darling daughters.
As the door closed, the engine started, and the sound of the car faded away, Katherine pulled back from the peephole and flashed her little sister an "OK" sign. The very next second, Isabella took the cue, spun on her heel, and darted back upstairs to change clothes.
Since it was an audition, she naturally had to dress more formally.
She chose a simple white dress, a pair of matching leather shoes, and combed her hair into a neat style that made her look older.
Well… not too old.
After all, she wasn't auditioning to play Draco Malfoy, so there was no need for a slicked-back, hairline-exposing look.
She let her natural curls fall over her shoulders, slipped a Sanrio scrunchie on her wrist just in case, grabbed her little shoulder bag, and bounded downstairs to meet her sister.
Isabella looked like a porcelain doll, so much so that Katherine was momentarily stunned. To be honest, at that moment, she felt a pang of regret. Trying out for a role in the Harry Potter films was no small matter—they really should have come clean to their mother instead of sneaking off like this.
Yesterday it had felt okay, maybe because her emotions were running high. But after a night of cooling down, anxiety was creeping back in.
Just as Katherine was wavering, Isabella popped her head out the door frame and hissed at her.
"Pssst, pssst!"
"Kesha?"
"Go, go, go!"
"Mom said she wouldn't be back for lunch, but she never said what time she'd return in the afternoon. To be safe, we need everything done by three o'clock. It's already past nine—we don't have much time. So don't just stand there, hmm?"
Her sister's clear and logical urgency made Katherine's cautious side lose out to impulse.
She grabbed her umbrella, stepped out the door, and with a loud bang, their little adventure began.
The Harry Potter casting process had been underway for months. Reportedly, the team had already screened over twenty thousand children across Britain. Since the IP was so important, Warner Bros. sent scouts straight into schools, setting up temporary audition points that were dismantled once used. Chasing them down was no easy task.
That day, the sisters' target was Warner's UK base in the London suburbs: Leavesden Film Studios.
From central London to Leavesden, the safest option was public transport.
After leaving home, they boarded a bus, paid two pounds, and after a ten-minute jolt arrived at Euston Station. There they bought tickets to Watford, waited in the hall for half an hour, and at ten o'clock sharp, they boarded a black-nosed old steam train.
With a mournful whistle and the rhythmic clack-clack-clack of wheels, the train pulled out.
It had been years since Isabella had ridden an old-fashioned steam train. Trying it again was nostalgic—though, honestly, the outdated facilities made her want to complain.
This was Britain, one of the world's oldest developed countries! And yet the train still had stiff, century-old seats with no adjustments? Worst of all, tickets cost nine pounds each. That was daylight robbery!
While Isabella grumbled inwardly, Katherine sat wide-eyed in surprise.
Yesterday, when Isabella had asked her to come along, she assumed her sister just wanted her to lead the way. But today…
"Isa, have you been following Harry Potter for a long time?"
"Why do you say that?"
"Otherwise how do you know where we're supposed to go?"
"Oh, that?" Isabella tilted her head mischievously. "Take a guess."
She gave no answer, just a playful smile.
The truth was, once she'd decided to try for the role, she'd used the family computer. The internet at the turn of the century wasn't as advanced as in the future, but in Europe and America basic information was already online. A quick check on Yahoo UK, a glance at the travel section, and she pieced the route together herself.
Katherine didn't press further. That cheeky tone was all the answer she needed. Watching her little sister gazing out the train window at the summer greenery, her heart was complicated.
Since their father's death, Katherine had thought of herself as "grown-up," consciously trying to share their mother's burdens. But compared to her younger sister—scatterbrained on the surface yet methodical in action—she suddenly felt childish again.
She pressed her lips together. "So you've set your sights on something?"
"Of course."
"Who?"
"Who else? The Little Beaver."
Isabella didn't even turn her head. Outside, the lush fields around London in midsummer were a sight to behold.
"If I'm going to act, I want the best role. Don't you agree?"
"So my only target is Hermione. Hermione Granger."
Her confident words made Katherine laugh despite herself.
Her regrets faded as she looked at her sister's back, curiosity replacing doubt.
"Isa, to be honest, I don't know where your confidence comes from. You've never acted before. And the Harry Potter auditions… lots of experienced child actors have already been turned away."
In the professional world, only Japan had a systematic training process for child actors—called jidō-yaku or "child roles." But that didn't mean other countries had none. In Britain, stage plays and operas were the primary training grounds, with children's productions given a specific name: child plays.
Vivian herself had come from that path. And future Oscar-winner Eddie Redmayne? He'd acted in Oliver Twist and Animal Ark as a child—both children's theater productions.
So when auditions began for Harry Potter, the first to try out were those professional kids. But after six months of searching with no success, it meant that every single "trained" child had already been rejected.
If the pros couldn't cut it, what chance did amateurs have?
But Isabella didn't see it that way.
"Darling, just because the experienced ones failed doesn't mean the inexperienced can't succeed. Of course, if someone believes they can't do it, then even if they could, they'll fail in the end. Because they lack confidence."
She pulled back from the window and beamed at her sister.
"So when I say Hermione is mine, it's because I believe she is. That's confidence."
"Of course, confidence alone isn't enough. You ask where my certainty comes from? Well… did you finish that newspaper I gave you yesterday? The Harry Potter project is already in-fighting. Warner Bros. has had enough—they don't want endless delays."
The headline had been sensational, but the article even more so. It reported that casting director Susie Figgis had officially submitted her resignation on July 11.
That could only mean the project was on the verge of collapse.
As for why the production was so divided?
Well, in Britain and America, everyone knew the answer.
J.K. Rowling was British. Since her story was set in Britain, she wanted Harry Potter to have a fully British cast.
Susie Figgis, also British, was a very well-known casting director. So when Harry Potter was greenlit, Rowling personally invited Susie to join the production, hoping she could help find suitable child actors across the UK.
But the film's director, Chris Columbus, was American. He wanted another American, Haley Joel Osment, to play Harry Potter. His reasoning was simple: anyone with half a brain could see Harry Potter was going to be a monumental hit. Opportunities like this came once in a lifetime—so why not hand it to "one of our own"?
Columbus thought it was negotiable. Rowling did not. She flatly refused to discuss it with him. Insulted, Columbus turned his temper on Rowling—and in the past few months, every actor Susie put forward was rejected by him.
Warner Bros. knew all about the battle between Columbus and Rowling. But rather than intervene, they chose to sit back and watch the two sides tear at each other. After all, Warner didn't want an all-British cast either. They wanted to maintain full control of the project—and slip in their own people.
But once casting director Susie threw in the towel, exposing the rift for all to see, Warner could no longer stay out of it.
They had already promised Rowling an all-British cast. What's more, the British Parliament was already debating changes to the Child Protection Act—extending the daily legal working hours for minors from two to four, purely to accommodate Warner's production needs.
So now Warner was supposed to suddenly announce, "Sorry, we'll be using Americans for Harry Potter"?
Britain might be a fading empire, but not so far gone that Warner could afford to insult them like that.
"Kesha," Isabella reminded her sister, "the newspaper I gave you yesterday said Warner has ordered the production to start filming by October. They didn't say it outright, but their stance is clear—they're no longer backing Chris Columbus. They're shifting full support to Auntie Rowling. And with less than fifty days before cameras roll, casting is bound to be messy and chaotic."
"When everything descends into chaos, do you think their impossible standards will still hold?"
"Before, they might have been looking for A+. Now? A– or even B+ might be acceptable."
"So… being confident at this moment isn't unreasonable, right?"
She winked at her sister.
Sitting by the eastern window, sunlight slanted across Isabella's face, making her glow. For a fleeting second, Katherine thought she was hallucinating—she swore she saw two little fuzzy ears twitching proudly on her sister's head.
"Okay," Katherine admitted, "let's say your analysis is spot on. But all of it is based on what the media reports. And Dad always said: the media's the last thing you should ever trust. If your source is wrong, your entire theory collapses."
She was impressed by her sister, though pride kept her from saying so outright.
Isabella only tilted her head, smiling sweetly. "Then let's make a bet."
"A bet? On what?"
"On whether I'm right."
"And how exactly would we bet that?"
"If I'm wrong, and Mom finds out we snuck out today, I'll take all the blame. But if I'm right, then it was your idea—you're the one who encouraged me to audition."
"That's a terrible wager. No matter who takes the blame, Mom will still be upset."
"Oh, so you're too scared to bet? Fine, I'll just take that as you admitting I'm brilliant."
"…Deal."
Katherine stopped fussing and agreed without hesitation.
Isabella just chuckled, turning back to the view outside.
The ride from Euston to Watford wasn't long—barely a few dozen minutes. After disembarking, they hopped on another bus, rattled along a bit more, and finally, Leavesden came into view.
In the future, this place would be a pilgrimage site for Potterheads, the sacred grounds where Harry Potter was filmed. But right now, the unrenowned Leavesden looked plain—just another industrial site, fenced with wire mesh, a heavy gate shut tight.
Visitors could only wave at security through the gaps.
When they explained they were there for auditions, the old gatekeeper raised his brows. He hadn't received any notice from the casting team that day. But hearing Isabella's flawless Received Pronunciation, he decided to open the gate anyway and phoned the crew.
Barely fifteen minutes later, a shuttle came rumbling out of the lot.
"Follow him," the guard told them. "He'll take you to where you need to go."
"Thank you."
They boarded the vehicle, and soon the small world of the film studio unfolded before them.
How to describe it?
Maybe it was preparation for the upcoming shoot, but the place was buzzing—traffic everywhere, workers in reflective vests and hard hats moving in all directions, dust rising like a construction site.
Dirty as it looked, Isabella was thrilled. The more complete the sets were, the less chance Warner would delay.
With sets finished, they couldn't afford not to start filming. That would be like an online author burning money to produce a web drama and never releasing it.
"I win," Isabella said, shooting her sister a glance.
"Don't pop the champagne at halftime," Katherine muttered stubbornly.
Isabella just smiled and let it drop.
By the time their shuttle rolled up to the Warner offices, they spotted two women standing by the door. The older one, with her back to them, was speaking earnestly to the other.
"Jessie, I'm so glad you could take over my work. Before I go, let me say this—since we're both British, I hope you'll support Joanne. She's not from the film industry, but she's an honest, upright Brit who's been fighting for our own people's interests…"
Hearing every word, Isabella turned to her sister again.
"Okay, fine," Katherine sighed, defeated. "It's all my idea. All my fault."
There might be plenty of Joannes in the world, but inside Warner Bros. Studios, there was only one that mattered.
J.K. Rowling.
"Heehee~" Isabella giggled, delighted at her sister's sulky expression.
Just then, the shuttle stopped. The older woman, thinking the car was for her, waved goodbye to her colleague and moved toward it. But as the door swung open and two little girls hopped out, she squinted in surprise.
"Who are you? Here for auditions?" she asked.
But the moment her eyes fell on Isabella, her expression softened into a smile. She withdrew the question, lifted her hand, and waved.
"Hello~ May I know your name?"
"Let me guess—you're here for Harry Potter, aren't you?"
"Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Susie Figgis, a close friend of J.K. Rowling. You can call me Auntie Susie."
"Oh… hello, Auntie Susie."
Isabella's eyes lit up as she reached out her hand.
"I'm Isabella Haywood. Pleased to meet you."
Notes:
Note:(1) The conflict between Philosopher's Stone director Chris Columbus and J.K. Rowling isn't widely circulated in Chinese sources, but it was discussed extensively abroad at the time. Media on both sides gave contradictory accounts, with interviews and audio recordings to back their claims. This book adopts the version where the conflict did exist.
Note:(2) Haley Joel Osment was discovered by Robert Zemeckis, playing Forrest Gump's son in Forrest Gump. Zemeckis was a protégé of Spielberg, whose productions (Back to the Future, Gremlins, etc.) launched both Zemeckis and Columbus. Spielberg originally wanted to direct Harry Potter himself, pushing for Osment in the lead. When Rowling refused, Columbus—another of Spielberg's protégés—was installed as director instead.
Note:(3) CRP refers to contemporary Received Pronunciation, the upper-middle-class British accent.