The Knight Bus appeared and took Harry to the Leaky Cauldron.
During the ride, after chatting with the conductor, he learned that a dangerous criminal had escaped from Azkaban.
Before he could even process this shocking news, he ran straight into the Minister of Magic.
At first, Harry thought the Minister had come to arrest him—for breaking the law against underage magic.
But in fact, the Minister didn't punish him at all—not even a scolding.
The Minister merely told Harry that his uncle, aunt, and Aunt Marge were all safe, that the "incident" caused by his use of magic had been handled, and that he needn't worry anymore.
He even booked Harry a room at the Leaky Cauldron to stay in until school started.
All of this baffled Harry. The Minister's attitude was far too strange—so strange it felt like he was the one in charge.
But given Harry's age and lack of power, there was no way to pry more information from the Minister.
And honestly… with his personality, if someone didn't want to tell him something, he'd just drop it.
So, confused as ever, Harry settled into the Leaky Cauldron.
Normally, he would've stayed there quite a while—there was still over a week until the term began.
The logic was simple:
When Ron wrote to Harry earlier, he'd said his family would stay in Egypt until a week before school started.
Even if the letters took time to arrive, it wouldn't line up perfectly with that week before school. Otherwise, Ron wouldn't have phrased it that way.
And everyone knew Harry Potter wasn't I Am Legend—the story wasn't just about one lonely hero. When the friends were "offline," the main plot couldn't properly begin.
So, to keep moviegoers from thinking the story was dragging and to move things along, Columbus used a fast-forward montage to show Harry's solo life at the Leaky Cauldron.
First came quick shots of the inn itself.
Then, next morning, Harry woke up and made a summer plan—a checklist of things to do before school.
First on the list: he'd grown taller and his old robes didn't fit anymore.
So, he went to Gringotts to withdraw money, then to Madam Malkin's to buy new robes.
After that, as he was about to move on to his next task, a toy shop in Diagon Alley caught his eye.
Inside, people were playing a game called Gobstones—a marble game where the loser got sprayed in the face with some foul-smelling liquid.
Harry wanted to join in, but it was too expensive. So he just watched.
And watched.
And before he knew it—
Day gone.
When he realized the shops around him were closing, he was stunned and annoyed at himself for wasting time.
He returned to the inn for dinner and sleep, vowing to do better the next day.
But in truth…
The Harry Diary read:
Aug 15: Buy robes (watched people play games).
Aug 16: Buy textbooks (visited Flourish and Blotts; The Monster Book of Monsters fights—it's hilarious).
Aug 17: Buy potion ingredients (browsed the Quidditch shop, loved the Firebolt).
Aug 18: Do homework (Florean Fortescue's ice cream is amazing).
Aug 19: Do homework (really want that moon-watching telescope outside the café).
Aug 20: Do homework (heard people talking about Sirius Black—he's terrifying).
Aug 21: Do homework… OMG… my notebook is blank! Did someone steal my homework?!
As Harry stared in shock at his completely empty notebook, thinking some thief had stolen his work, the audience burst into knowing laughter.
"Aww, Harry's so cute!"
"He's got procrastination issues too!"
"No wonder he and Ron are best friends—they're both slackers!"
"Too bad Hermione wasn't there—she'd have scolded him and forced him to study!"
"Ha! You're describing Hermione like she's his mom!"
"That's exactly why it's funny!"
Indeed, Harry's stay at the Leaky Cauldron was in the original novel—Chapter 4 of Prisoner of Azkaban.
In Isabella's previous life, Alfonso Cuarón cut it out entirely.
Why? Who knows.
Probably because it didn't directly advance the plot and would've slowed the pacing.
But in this timeline, Columbus kept it.
He felt it was essential—it showed Harry's growth.
And that's a Columbus hallmark. His films often explore coming-of-age moments—like Home Alone, when Kevin reconciles the old man with his estranged son.
Columbus also believed this wouldn't take much screen time.
With quick-cut montages—Harry looking down, looking up, another day gone—and calendar pages flipping to mark the days, he condensed the entire summer into two and a half minutes.
Even with all prior scenes included, only about 20 minutes of film had passed. Tight pacing, honestly.
Finally, when Harry shook off his lazy spell and crammed to finish his homework—
The new term arrived.
Knock knock knock.
Startled, Harry jumped up and cautiously opened the door.
Ron and Hermione stood there.
Their arrival made Isabella wag her imaginary tail again—
"Oh—Hermione's so pretty!"
"She's growing up!"
"Still think she was cuter in the first movie—but fine, she's gorgeous now."
Hermione smiled on screen. "Hi, Harry! Long time no see!"
Ron grinned. "We knew you'd make it here, so we asked the innkeeper where you were staying."
"Good to see you, Hermione," said Harry, beaming. "Ron—how was Egypt?"
Before Ron could answer, Harry noticed Hermione holding a huge cat.
"This is…"
"This is Crookshanks!" Hermione said proudly. "My birthday's in September, and since I'll be at school then, my parents gave me money early for a gift. I planned to buy an owl, but when I saw him at the Magical Menagerie… I just had to get him. Isn't he adorable?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah, he is."
Ron muttered, "Sure, but for the record—Errol's my family's owl, not mine. I've only got Scabbers."
He pulled the fat rat from his pocket.
Instantly, Crookshanks bristled, glaring with fury.
"Oi! Hermione! Control your cat!" Ron yelped.
Hermione turned to shield Scabbers—but Crookshanks was faster, springing from her arms, pushing off her shoulder, and lunging at the rat.
Scabbers squeaked and bolted.
Ron chased after him, Hermione tried to grab Crookshanks, and Harry—laughing—joined the chaos.
When it ended, the trio sat panting in the Leaky Cauldron, Ron grumbling, Hermione snapping back, and Harry just watching fondly.
Then—Arthur Weasley appeared.
With that, the trio's "first-stage quest" ended: the group was reunited.
As for getting the Hogsmeade permission slip signed? Yeah, sure. Tell a teenager "you can't go there" and see what happens.
Weasley's arrival kicked off Stage Two of Harry's adventure:
"Do not look for Sirius Black."
Mr. Weasley told Harry what he knew—Sirius had once been Voldemort's follower, loyal to the Dark Lord. After Voldemort's fall, Sirius escaped Azkaban, seeking revenge on Harry for thwarting his master's return.
That was why the Ministry had gone easy on him—they wanted to use Harry as bait.
If Sirius came after Harry, they could capture him.
When Harry realized he was basically the Ministry's worm on a hook, everything clicked. The Minister's kindness suddenly made sense.
Mr. Weasley urged him to be careful and not to seek out Sirius.
The order left Harry stunned.
"Why would I look for someone who wants to kill me?" he asked.
And the audience, in unison, whispered the answer:
"Because he's your godfather!"
In the book, Weasley doesn't say it directly—his wife stops him, fearing it'll upset Harry. The truth only reaches Harry later through eavesdropping.
But in the movie, that scene was rewritten.
Two reasons:
There wasn't time to show both Weasleys debating in detail, so it was cleaner to give the key info straight to Harry. In commercial pacing, the hero's main quest must begin within 24 minutes. (Even Iron Man had his arc reactor built by then.)
Columbus, a student of Spielberg, wasn't about to break that rule.
Spielberg's films worked because he made any genre feel like an adventure.
So, after spending a little time on Harry's summer, Columbus made up for it by tightening everything else—delivering exposition more directly and cutting fast between "relaxed reunion" and "looming danger."
Even diehard fans who knew every detail felt the tension rise when the Weasley scene shifted.
Everyone wanted to know how Mr. Weasley would answer—
But then—
Cut to: the Hogwarts Express.
Because, obviously, he couldn't answer. If he told Harry the truth about Sirius, the whole movie would collapse—Harry would've gone looking immediately.
So the edit left a deliberate blank space.
Harry's confusion became the story's engine.
On the train, he told Ron and Hermione what Mr. Weasley had said.
They couldn't make sense of it either, and both tried to comfort him.
In game-logic terms, the trio had just triggered a "mystery quest."
And with the team assembled, the mission active, naturally—
Whoosh. The Dementors arrived.
They were hunting Sirius—but because of Harry's connection to him, they turned their focus on Harry.
As their icy presence closed in, Harry felt every organ freeze inside him.
Fortunately, Professor Lupin—his father's old friend—was in the same compartment.
He stepped in, cast the spell, and drove the Dementors away.
Crisis averted, the scene shifted to Hogwarts.
At the opening feast, Dumbledore introduced the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, announced Hagrid's new post, and explained that the school would be hosting some "special guests" this year—
The Dementors of Azkaban.
They were there to hunt down Sirius Black. As long as Sirius remained free, the Dementors would not leave Hogwarts.
They would guard every entrance to the castle, so Dumbledore warned the students not to provoke them under any circumstances.
His words sounded exactly like an NPC in a video game announcing the background of a quest.
And with that—
The main storyline officially began!
Because the Harry Potter series follows a clear chronological timeline, it's easy to pinpoint where each main plotline starts. In The Prisoner of Azkaban, Rowling's main focus was the relationship between Harry and Sirius.
But since everything surrounding that relationship was tangled and complex, cutting parts out was inevitable.
So, as the main story properly kicked off, even though Chris Columbus still kept his signature attention to the magical world, Azkaban's world-building—like the Herbology class in Chamber of Secrets—was limited to brief touches.
For example, in the novel, Professor Trelawney's Divination lessons play a much larger role.
But in the film, only her ominous prophecy about Harry's misfortune remained.
And when she spoke of the "large black dog" that signified "death and darkness approaching," the movie gave Harry a close-up, followed by a flashback montage—him remembering the night he ran away and saw Sirius for the first time.
Similarly, in the novel, Cho Chang appears for the first time in Azkaban, but due to time constraints…
The romantic subplot got axed.
And in the book, Harry receives his Firebolt broom halfway through the story. When the school learns he didn't buy it himself, they confiscate it for inspection—because the Firebolt was incredibly expensive, and since Harry was central to the fight against Voldemort, they had to be cautious.
But…
That entire sequence was missing in the film.
Columbus simply showed Harry receiving the Firebolt, beaming with joy, then riding it to victory in Quidditch.
As for the inspection?
Cut.
And the reason was simple: runtime.
So Columbus had no choice but to swing the editor's axe.
Still, the reason he kept at least part of this storyline—unlike Alfonso Cuarón, who completely cut it in Isabella's previous life—was because, despite Azkaban's darker tone, Rowling's core theme was still love.
Soon, the 180-minute film neared its finale.
After Gryffindor's victory in the Quidditch Cup, the final confrontation began.
Sirius revealed himself and attacked Ron's pet rat. Ron desperately tried to protect it, while Harry and Hermione rushed to help. But Sirius wasn't alone—Lupin was with him.
A Hogwarts professor helping an escaped prisoner from Azkaban seemed… suspicious. Then again, most Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers had issues.
Remember Quirrell in Philosopher's Stone? Voldemort literally lived on the back of his head.
So Sirius and Lupin teaming up didn't completely shock the trio. But as they faced off, Ron looked utterly confused, thinking both men were lunatics obsessed with killing his pet.
Especially Sirius.
"You broke out of Azkaban to kill my rat?!"
That was… honestly legendary.
Lupin said calmly, "Ron, the rat you're protecting isn't a real rat."
"He's a wizard—an unregistered Animagus named Peter Pettigrew."
Ron shouted, "You're both insane!"
Harry backed him up. "Pettigrew's been dead for over ten years! There were witnesses—he was murdered by Sirius Black!"
Hermione chimed in, serious and methodical as ever, "Professor Lupin, we learned about Animagi in Professor McGonagall's class. They're witches and wizards who can transform into specific animals while retaining their magical abilities."
"I checked references while writing my essay—the Ministry keeps records of all registered Animagi. The registry lists who they are and what animal they transform into. I looked up Professor McGonagall, but there are only seven Animagi recorded in the entire century. Peter Pettigrew isn't one of them."
Lupin smiled. "Hermione, you're an excellent student. But there are things even the Ministry doesn't know. For instance—there are at least three Animagi in this world who were never registered."
"What?!" The three of them were stunned.
Lupin lifted his wand, pointing it toward Scabbers in Ron's trembling hands. "That rat you're holding—he is Peter Pettigrew. Because of his long tail, he earned the nickname Wormtail."
Then Lupin pointed to himself. "As for me, I transform during the full moon. That's why they call me Moony."
He gestured to Sirius next. "And him—he can turn into a massive black dog."
"Because of his big paws, we call him Padfoot."
"And finally…"
Lupin lowered his wand, smiling softly at Harry. "Your father, James Potter, could transform into a stag."
"So his nickname was Prongs."
Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. "The Marauder's Map—the one that shows every passage and person in Hogwarts—you made it?"
"Yes," Lupin said seriously, nodding. "We made it with your father."
Harry trembled. "Then… the Firebolt—"
Sirius exchanged a look with Lupin, then turned to Harry. "Has anyone ever told you… that I'm your godfather?"
And with that—
Boom!
The theater erupted in screams and cheers.
"Oh my God—the mystery's solved—this scene is amazing!"
"This is what I came to see! Harry—you're loved!"
"Finally! He knows! He finally knows!"
Indeed, on the surface Prisoner of Azkaban feels like a mystery—why Sirius escaped Azkaban, why he was after Harry.
But the real secret wasn't cruel at all.
Harry, who always felt unloved—who cherished Hogwarts because it was the first place that felt like home—finally discovered that he wasn't alone.
In the book's 20th chapter, surrounded by Dementors, the happiest thought Harry could summon was leaving the Dursleys and living with his godfather.
That was the heart of Prisoner of Azkaban: the revelation that Harry was loved—deeply and unconditionally.
In her previous life, when Isabella watched Alfonso Cuarón's version, she felt it was a shame. He turned the story into a pure visual spectacle.
He built the film's climax entirely around the time-turner sequence—Harry and Hermione traveling back to save Sirius.
It wasn't wrong; the time travel was indeed crucial in the book. Hermione's time-turner was the key to saving Sirius from the Ministry.
But by focusing on that alone, Cuarón stripped out the emotional core. Harry Potter became just a movie—technically brilliant, but missing Rowling's soul.
The Harry Potter series kept improving because Rowling's storytelling evolved, deepened.
So, in this life, when Isabella realized that Chris Columbus—despite his past issues with Rowling—was actually the one who respected her vision most, she was genuinely surprised.
She'd read all the books. And honestly? She couldn't stand any of the films beyond Philosopher's Stone and Chamber of Secrets, no matter how big their box-office numbers were.
But this time was different. The butterfly effect had already changed the script. She couldn't predict what would happen next—but as cheers erupted behind her, her anxiety finally eased.
Maybe Margot Robbie noticed her joy—or maybe her nerves—or maybe she was just being playfully smug.
When Isabella turned back, Margot leaned close and whispered, "It's really good. Everything important's there. I bet it clears a billion."
"Oh, don't pop the champagne halfway," Isabella muttered, pretending to shrug it off—though she clearly liked hearing it.
Margot just rolled her eyes and leaned back in her seat.
As the credits rolled, the hall thundered with applause.
The cast and crew came onstage for interviews, glowing under the flood of praise.
But they couldn't linger in America to await the final box office numbers—
Because Azkaban had another premiere scheduled in the UK, on May 30, at Leicester Square.
Meanwhile, on May 28, The Day After Tomorrow was released.
Yes—
Fox didn't delay it.
Not because they still wanted to go head-to-head with Warner, but because Warner's earlier counterattack had already cost them dearly.
They couldn't afford the financial loss of a delay.
And actually, The Day After Tomorrow opened decently:
Day 1: $23.5 million (No.1 in North America)
Day 2: $23.78 million (No.2)
Day 3: $21.44 million (still No.2)
Day 4: $17.06 million (still No.2)
And who was No.1?
Shrek 2.
Yep. Even ten days after release, the big green ogre was still crushing everything.
No one expected Shrek 2 to be that unstoppable.
But by May 31, everyone figured its reign was over—
Because, just like before, Harry Potter films premiered earlier in the UK than in the U.S.
So, on May 30, after the London premiere, Azkaban began early screenings on May 31.
And that day alone—
It made £6.3 million.
Breaking the UK's single-day box office record—again!
Azkaban overtook Philosopher's Stone and Chamber of Secrets to become the highest single-day grossing film in UK history.
And that number was terrifyingly good.
At the time, £1 equaled $1.78,
so £6.3 million was about $11.21 million—
In a country with only about 500 cinemas,
and that day being a Monday, no less.
So, yeah—
Azkaban broke UK records on a weekday.
It grossed $11.2 million,
while Shrek 2, showing in 3,700 theaters across the U.S., made $11.78 million that same day.
So when Azkaban matched Shrek 2's numbers in a market only 15% the size of North America—and without weekend boosts—people freaked out.
"Oh my god—Azkaban is going to dominate the box office!"
Paramount's Sherry Lansing's eyelid twitched.
"Damn it—this number better not be too insane," muttered Stacey Snider, after hearing that U.S. theaters had immediately given Azkaban a 70% screening share.
"If Azkaban breaks new records, what happens to Spider-Man?"
Howard Stringer cursed Rupert Murdoch for not killing Harry Potter sooner.
And Murdoch? He cursed himself for not killing Isabella.
The preview data kept him up all night.
Then came June 4—Azkaban's global release.
Early morning, June 5, 5 a.m., Murdoch, sleepless and groggy, called his assistant.
"Has Azkaban's box office report come in yet?"
"…Yes, sir."
"Then why the hell didn't you call me immediately? You lose your nerve?"
The assistant froze under the weight of his tone.
Murdoch snapped, "How much?"
"Fifty-one point four nine million."
"…How much??" Murdoch bolted upright.
Even braced for it, he was floored by the number.
The assistant hesitated, then repeated, "Boss, Azkaban's first-day North American gross was $51.49 million—breaking the all-time single-day record by $6.69 million. And… globally, it passed $100 million on day one."
Murdoch inhaled sharply—
The phone creaked in his fist.
This was his worst nightmare.
And it only got worse.
June 5. Saturday.
Day 2 of release—
Azkaban made $58.26 million across 4,223 U.S. theaters.
"Yep, Azkaban crossed $100 million in North America in two days."
"Oh wait—did we just break the single-day record twice in 48 hours?"
"Oops—sorry about that!"
Two days, $109 million.
Hollywood shattered.
No—
The entire world film industry shattered.
Because that number wasn't normal.
Actually—
Anyone with eyes could see it:
Harry Potter with Isabella had just smashed North America to pieces.