[Brick], initially released in just 150 theaters, experienced an unpreted expansion to 3,150 theaters across North America. The practice of starting with a limited release and sg up was unon for major distributors like Warner Bros. It was a strategy popurized in 1992 by Sony, whiched Sony Pictures Cssics to separate its blockbusters from niche indepe films. Their first release uhe new banner became a massive success, even earning a Best Picture Osomination. This ignited a trend.

  Disney acquired Miramax, Fox unched Searchlight, Universal established Focus Features, and Paramount created Paramount Cssics. Warner Bros., however, gged behind until two years ago, when they introduced Warner Indepe Pictures. To date, their only ercial hit had been [Before Su]. But with the release of [Brick], the tides seemed to turn for the indie division.

  The movie's initial box office colle of 3.3 million in its opening weekend grew to 4.8 million by the following Thursday. On Friday, an expaheater t propelled the daily reveo a stunning 5.2 million, followed by 6.1 million on Saturday and 4.5 million on Sunday. This resulted in a sed weekend total of 15.8 million, bringing the movie's 10-day domestic earnings to 20.6 million.

  Su explosive start was rare for a niche genre film, but sustaining these figures was challenging. The third weekend saw a nearly 30% dip, earning 11.1 million, followed by 8.2 million in the fourth weekend, 5.2 million in the fifth, and 4.6 million in the sixth. By the end of its North Ameri theatrical run, [Brick] had amassed a hefty 72.4 million.

  Its iional release also saw remarkable success, with the UK emerging as the stro market outside the U.S., tributing 12.7 million. nifit markets included Germany, Spain, Australia, Greece, Mexico, Brazil, and Japan, collectively adding 33.7 million to its tally. The film's worldwide earnings soared to an impressive 106.1 million.

  Although it was Troy Armitage's first theatrical release to fall short of 100 million domestically, the oute was still extraordinary for a low-budget, non-horror indie film. Much of its success could be attributed to Troy himself. His involvement turned what might have been a niche film into a must-watch event, with distributors worldwide snapping up rights thanks to his star power. This would not have been possible if someone unknown had been cast in the lead role.

  Warner Bros. pocketed around 50 million after theaters' cuts. Troy's 25% share at 12.5 million had been a given as per the terms of their tract, leaving the studio with a 25 millio profit after dedug marketing costs. sidering they had paid 25 million for the rights to both films, they effectively quadrupled their iment within a year. And this calcution didn't even include future revereams like TV rights and DVD sales.

  Meanwhile, Troy's gross revenue reached 68.5 million. About 20% of this went to stakeholders, including directors and crew, leaving him with 55 million. However, Troy donated 41 million to his charity, cutting his earnings to 14 million. After ating for the joint produ cost of 12 million for [Perks] and [Brick], his profit shrank to 2 million. Taxes took another 40%, redug his final take-home earnings to a modest 1.2 million.

  (Break)

  "You didn't make a very good business decision by donating all of your share of profits from [Perks] to charity," Dad remarked, l the test email from my atant. "That film was so much more profitable than [Brick] will ever be."

  I shrugged. "I 't know beforehand which film will make how much. Also, I don't regret it o."

  "Really?" Dad raised an eyebrow. "That one deade you 40 million poorer."

  "No," I tered immediately. "It made me only 24 million poorer. I don't have to pay 40% in taxes now. Also, did you fet who's c the costs of my staff now?"

  It might sound shady, but that's exactly how most charities operate. My atant cleverly funnels a portion of my ine and expehrough the charity to reduce my personal tax burden. It would be to use such a structure, especially when it's perfectly legal.

  I still donate a signifit part of my io genuine charitable purposes, and most of the 41 million will be used to help children—just not before c my staff's saries. Some might call this opportunistid maybe it is. If anyone in power has a problem with it, they take it up with the ws. To quote a future billionaire president: If you wao pay my taxes, then ge the tax code. But I know you won't because your friends and donors use the same loopholes I do.

  Not that this would ever e to light. The tax authorities are well aware of these practices, but exposing me would mean dragging far wealthier and more iial people into the fray. They wouldn't risk that.

  I shook off the errant thoughts and turned back to Dad. "That's not important. What I want to know is—whose bright idea was it to make Hermione jealous of Cho? Because, believe me, I've read the book, and that wasn't there anywhere."

  Dad went silent for a moment, looking almost guilty.

  "Well?" I prodded, raising an eyebrow.

  He sighed heavily, nodding as if g defeat. "I agree with you—it shouldn't have been there. But sometimes, even my hands are tied. Someone from Warner went behind my bad spoke to Eric Roth and J.K. Rowling. They suggested adding a romantic subplot between Harry and Hermione in the fifth and sixth movies. The idea was that since Ron and Ginny are seeing other people, Harry and Hermione could briefly get together—only to ter realize their feelings are more sibling-like."

  I was floored. "Rowling agreed to this crap?"

  Dad shook his head. "I don't know. She won't say, but I suspect Warner paid her off t her on board."

  I didn't know what to feel. It was obvious why this was happening—[Perks] was to bme. The movie's success had made audiences fall in love with Emma aogether, both on-s and off. Fan unities were flooded with stories and fan art of Harry and Hermione as a couple, often using images of us kissing in [Perks] as inspiration. There was even a betting pool speg that Harry and Hermione would get together in the Half Blood Prince.

  I looked back at my father. "Say, Dad, have you read the sixth book?"

  I hadn't read it in this timeline. Jo had only provided the manuscript to Dad and Eric; everyone else was in the dark about what would happen. I'd probably get a copy a week before its public release, but that was as much as I could hope for. I didn't push Dad to read it because I ks plot.

  "Yes," Dad nodded. "And before you ask—no, there wasn't any plot point about Harry and Hermiohey're just trying to milk your teenage fanbase. People loved you in [Goblet of Fire] and [Perks] because of the maturing teeorylihey're trying to replicate that."

  I pressed my hand to my forehead as the implications sank in. "Do they not realize we're already strapped for time? There's so muformation crammed into book five alone. If we add this baseless subplot that goes nowhere, we'll have to cut out something crucial."

  "I know," Dad agreed, his tned. "I said the same thing, but they won't budge. We butted heads for hours, but it went nowhere—just like this Harry/Hermioionship they're cooking up. I'm amazed they mao get Erid Jo on board with this."

  "Where was I during all this drama?" I asked, genuinely baffled.

  "Shooting [Little Miss Sunshine]," Dad replied simply.

  I ched my fists, in frustration. I couldn't let this slide. I remembered something simir happening in the inal timelih [Half-Blood Prince] where Lavender Brown had been given more s time than Ginny Weasley, and even Voldemort's backstory and the horcruxes were glossed over to cater to the teen audienot this time.

  "I'm not going to the set tomorrow," I said with finality.

  Dad's eyes widened ically. "What?"

  "In fact," I tinued, my voice firm, "I'm not going to the shoot at all uhey delete this nonsensical plot entirely. If they have a problem with that, tell them I don't want to shoot any romantic ses with Emma, ever. Uhey agree, I won't shoot a thing."

  "Don't be so hasty, Troy," Dad said, trying to calm me down. "You have a strong ally in Warner Bros. I'm sure we arrange a meeting with Barry Meyer to discuss this peacefully, without res to threats."

  "No," I shook my head, my jaw set. "You tried talking peacefully, right? And how did that go?"

  Dad's silence was all the answer I needed.

  "Call Barry Meyer right now and tell him I won't shoot another se if they keep this plotline."

  "You're legally bound to shoot it," Dad pointed out, his voice dropping a notch.

  "Then tell Barry to sue me," I said fidently. "He'd lose the studio millions of dolrs. And just when the case reaches a judge, I'll agree to do the film—but I won't promote it. Just like Edward Norton didn't promote [The Italian Job] when Paramount forced him to do something he didn't want."

  Dad stared at me silently, his expression unreadable, as if weighing whether I was truly serious. Finally, he broke the silence. "You'll ruin your career. You'll lose all credibility with the big studios. They won't cast you in major roles again if you do this."

  "I don't even care about that right now," I said firmly. "I'll produdie films on my own for the rest of my life if I have to, but I won't let some analysts and executives dictate what should or shouldn't happen in a story I've loved since I was a kid."

  Because that's what it probably was—some data-driven execs running numbers, deg what would make the film more appealing to its target audieeenagers.

  Dad tried to reason with me, presenting valid points about the financial fallout for Warner and even himself. But I stood my ground, unwavering. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he pulled out his phone and dialed Barry Meyer.

  "Hello, Barry?... No, not so ght now," Dad said, gng at me as he spoke. "Troy's not happy with the ge in the script and says he won't shoot the film tomorrow… Oh yeah, please, talk to him."

  He handed me the phone, and I shot him a ft look, clearly unimpressed that he hadn't fully veyed my message. Taking the phone, I pressed it to my ear.

  "Hey, Troy," Barry greeted jovially, his torying to smooth things over. "What's up with you?"

  "No, what's up with you?" I tered, my tone sharp. "Why are you butchering the best film series Warner will probably ever have?"

  "We're not 'butchering it,' as you say," Barry replied, his voice ced with exasperation. "We're making it better. Jo is just one writer. We've got our best team w on it, with her involved, and we're improving the story."

  "How's this for improvement?" I said coldly. "I won't shoot anything eveely romantic with Emma ever again."

  "Is that what this is about?" Barry asked, sounding thhly annoyed. "Because you had a little breakup with her? I knew I should have put a no-dating rule in pce whearted this series."

  "sider it whatever you want, Barry," I shot back, unwilling to give him the satisfa of a direswer. "But here's the deal—I'm not showing up oomorrow because I injured my back today. Got smmed against a wall thly. Doctor says it'll take at least a week to heal."

  Barry started to say something, but I cut him off. "If the script isn't fixed by then, who knows what could happe? My pioe might mysteriously get injured, or maybe the tip of my nose. Hell, I might even shave my head entirely, just because. But ohing's for sure—I won't promote this film or any future Harry Potter films at all."

  My voice grew icier with every word. "Our partnership will end with Harry Potter. I'll walk away from the musical deal, too—I'm sure audio would be thrilled to pick it up. And don't expect me to do any other projects with Warner. Ever."

  "What's gotten into you?" Barry asked, his voice ced with surprise and frustration. "You were never so… so…"

  "Rude? Decisive? An asshole?" I offered, my tone cool and unapologetic. "Call it whatever you want. All I care about is what best for the movie, and it's definitely not some Harry/Hermione romance."

  Without waiting for a reply, I ehe call with a sharp clid hahe phone back to Dad, who was staring at me, mouth slightly agape.

  "What?" I asked, feigning innoce.

  "You old him you wouldn't shoot it at all," he said, his tone equal parts baffled and impressed.

  "I ged my mind midway," I replied casually. "Think about it: as a producer, what's a bigger nightmare—an actor refusing to show up or one doing something bizarre and pletely uable o?"

  Dad tilted his head thoughtfully before answering, a relut smile tugging at his lips. "Defihe bizarre."

  "Exactly," I said, leaning ba my chair. "I have a feeling I'll be hearing from Barry again in a few hours."

  (Break)

  Barry Meyer sat in his office, seething, his fists ched atop his polished desk. Across from him, An Horn, his COO, sat looking visibly unfortable, dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief.

  "Why the hell are you tellio cater to the whims of a kid?" Barry barked, smming a fist on the desk for emphasis.

  An swallowed nervously but mustered a response. "Because, Barry, that 'kid' has made us billions of dolrs over the st five years. Of which, over a hundred million this year alone—and it was not even from a franchise. Antagonizing him now would be a colossal mistake."

  Barry's eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a menag growl. "How? I'll make a few calls. I'll make sure no one in this town gives him wain. And if he dares release a film himself, we'll schedule gest blockbuster opposite it. I'll ruin him for crossing me."

  An, though clearly intimidated, pressed on. "Sure, we could do that. But think about what we stand to lose. If we py this right, Warner has far more to gain. That musical he's w on? I've heard the music myself—it is too good to fail. We could easily make hundreds of millions, Barry. If we alienate him now, we risk throwing that all away."

  Barry's lips tightened, but he said nothing. An took the ck of rebuttal as an opening to tinue.

  "When we acquired the musical rights at that bargain prione of us expected much. But after his st two hits? This could be a massive payday if we market it properly. I propose we reiate the profit share—and bump it up to the industry-standard 15%. Iurick to the inal script for [Order of the Phoenix]."

  Barry leaned ba his chair, fingers steepled in thought. The numbers swirled in his head. An's logic was sound, and the potential profits were undeniable.

  "Alright," Barry said finally, his voice begrudging. "Make the call."

  An nodded, visibly relieved, and stood to leave.

  As the door closed behind him, Barry leaned forward, a storm brewing in his gaze. Troy might have won this round, but Barry wasn't about to let an actor—no matter how successful—hold him hostage. Something had to be doo rein Troy in. No studio head tolerated an unruly star for long, and Troy's ret successes had clearly emboldened him too much.

  ____________________

  AN: I rewrote this chapter almost entirely because of user response. I ducted a poll on my Pat/reon, with two options given to the readers: Hinny or Harmony. inally, I had suspected that Harmony would win and had written it from that perspective. But to my surprise, people want to see a better movie retionship between Harry and Ginny. That's why I went in this dire.