(Flashback)
"Why are you trying to buy my contract?" Taylor asked bluntly.
She had already performed on stage with her childhood idol once. When Troy returned from his hiatus for film promotions, she was supposed to do it again. But now, she was having second thoughts.
Her parents had been furious when they found out that a rich boy was trying to buy her freedom from Scott Borchetta. They had done extensive research before signing with him, believing it was the best path for her career. If someone else bought the contract, all of that would be meaningless.
"I'm also very curious to know your reasons, young man," Scott Swift said, his voice laced with the same disappointment he had long mastered when speaking to his daughter.
Taylor had tried to convince her father not to come, but he had insisted. He clearly believed Troy had ulterior motives.
"There's only one reason," Troy said plainly, turning to the older Swift. "Your daughter is one of the most talented young songwriters I've seen in a long time. I started my own label in London, initially just to release my own music, but I wouldn't mind helping other up-and-coming singers as well."
Then he looked directly at Taylor. "You're amazing. And I don't just say that lightly. You have the talent to be even bigger than the likes of Mariah Carey, Whitney Houston, or Celine Dion. I can help you get there."
"And what can you do that Borchetta can't?" Scott Swift asked without missing a beat.
"For starters," Troy said with a grin, "in my next album—which I plan to release in the coming months—I'll give you the chance to sing at least two songs as my co-singer. Like Rihanna did for Closer and We Don't Talk Anymore. And look where she is today."
Taylor's jaw nearly hit the floor. A fly could have flown in, and she wouldn't have noticed.
Getting an offer like this from Troy Armitage was career-changing. Just a year ago, no one had even heard of Rihanna, and now the whole world was in awe of her—including Taylor herself. The idea that Troy was offering her the same kind of opportunity was beyond belief.
She was about to scream yes when her father's firm grip on her arm stopped her.
She shot him an irritated look, but he ignored her, keeping his steady gaze locked on the teenage superstar sitting beside them.
"We can't just ignore the fact that you ended up dating Rihanna," Scott pointed out.
"Dad!" Taylor hissed. "Stop embarrassing me!"
Troy tilted his head, confused. "And? I'm still dating her. What's your point?"
"I think you understand my point perfectly," Scott said. "My daughter is precious. She means more than the world to me. I can't let her change her entire career trajectory at the snap of a finger because of a teenage crush."
Troy laughed at the insinuation. "Believe me, this is not a crush."
Taylor wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. It was bad enough that her father had asked such a mortifying question—but having her crush laugh at the idea? That was next-level humiliation.
Sensing her embarrassment, Troy turned to her and said, "Don't take it personally, Taylor. You're a beautiful girl, and any guy would be lucky to have you in his life. But I don't mix business with pleasure."
"Rihanna?" Taylor shot back before she could stop herself. "Wasn't she business as well?"
Troy shook his head. "We shot one film together. There were no long-term commitments. And ever since we started dating, we haven't recorded anything together. That's why I'm not even considering her for my second album."
Then he turned toward the older Swift, his tone serious. "I assure you, I have no intention of dating your daughter. My offer is genuine—I made it because I love Taylor's first album. She's an incredibly talented songwriter, and I wouldn't mind if she wrote a few songs for me as well."
Taylor wanted to scream yes again, but this time, she waited for her father's response.
Scott and Troy locked eyes for a long moment before Scott finally nodded. "It's Taylor's decision, ultimately."
(Flashback End)
November 2006, Los Angeles, CA, USA
And that was how Taylor agreed to transfer her contract to Troy's record label.
There was just one problem.
The day after their conversation, rumors started swirling that Troy and Rihanna had broken up.
Her parents immediately urged her to back out of the deal, fearing that their worries were coming true as the timing of the break-up seemed oddly specific. However, Taylor refused. This was her golden opportunity. She had adored Troy for years, and now, with him heartbroken over Rihanna, she could be the perfect rebound. It was like the plot of a teen drama come to life.
But in the end, it wasn't up to Taylor to accept or reject the deal.
They had spoken to Troy only because he was easy to reach for them—but the real power lay with Scott Borchetta, who seemed unwilling to let Taylor go.
Or so it seemed—until they received the news that her contract and first album had been sold to Troy for a staggering $3 million.
"I can't believe I'm worth that much…" Taylor murmured.
"My princess is worth billions," Her dad said with a cheesy smile on his face before turning serious. "As a singer, you probably aren't that much. At least, not yet. But if Troy actually gives you two songs on his next album and your career takes off like Rihanna's, he'll make that money back by the time you release your sixth album—the last one you're contractually obligated to make with him. Don't forget, you've only just released your debut album. It usually takes time for albums to gain traction. It's possible yours would've taken off on its own in a year without Troy's involvement. But I guess we'll never know now."
Taylor didn't say it out loud, but she knew one thing—Rihanna's career had skyrocketed not just because of talent but because she had been dating Troy for so long. But if Troy didn't date her, would her career ever reach the same heights as Rihanna?
(Break)
"Konnichiwa, Japan!" I greeted the audience in front of me with a big grin, and the resounding cheers I got in return were quite contrary to the calm nature for which the Japanese are known.
"It feels so good to be here in Tokyo," I continued as a Japanese guy translated whatever I said in real time for everyone to understand. "The type of love I get here is so out of the world, sometimes I think I should just move here permanently."
The deafening roars I was greeted with was everything I wanted and more.
"Now, let's do what we all came here to do. [Harry Potter and the Order of Phoenix], the movie that all of you have been eagerly waiting to see for so long." With my piece said, I handed the mic back to a stagehand and walked over to my designated seat.
I wasn't exaggerating earlier. The fan experience in Japan was out of this world and completely insane. The best part was that if I were crowded by people here, I wouldn't be that worried for my life as compared to if I were anywhere else in the world. True, I would still avoid getting mobbed, but Japanese fans were so polite as compared to Americans or British that you wouldn't even get mad if you were mobbed because they would bow ten times in apology.
Usually, the film is introduced by one of the event managers, but seeing my fan following in the country, someone in marketing suggested it would be good if I did it, and honestly, I liked the idea.
As the ever-darkening logo of Warner Bros appeared on screen, I couldn't help but eagerly await the movie because this was the first time I was seeing it. My parents, Evan, Emma, and Jamie, basically everyone I knew, and who was sitting here in the theater had already seen the movie.
The movie began at the point where the last one had ended. The death of Cedric Diggory, and the laughing visage of Lord Voldemort standing over his dead body and then duelling Harry Potter. It was just a flashback, but the footage that was shot masterfully by Alfonso Cuaron was perfectly reused by Rian Johnson to remind the audience that the world now was a much darker place with the reemergence of the Dark Lord.
Suddenly, the movie shifts to me as Harry sitting on a swing set in a park in a rather sunny day, jerking my head in a quick one-off motion, as if trying to keep that memory away from me. That subtle use of head jerk told the users so many things about Harry. Especially those who had read the book and knew that Voldemort could be in Harry's head. The film was just beginning, and I was already liking the way Rian Johnson had added his own unique touch to the story.
In the next scene, Dudley and his gang of miscreants taunted Harry, their jeers growing louder as they closed in. Just when Harry was about to retaliate—his wand nearly pressed against Dudley's fat neck—the sky shifted without warning. The warm glow of the sunny day vanished, replaced by the now-staple dark palette of the franchise.
A sudden, eerie silence fell over the neighborhood. Then, the chase began.
Dudley and Harry sprinted from their unseen pursuers, fear pounding in their chests as they reached the tunnel—only to come face-to-face with two menacing Dementors.
Things quickly spiraled from bad to worse when, in a brilliant stroke of wisdom, Dudley punched Harry in the face, sending his wand clattering to the ground. And as if on cue, the Dementors struck.
Disoriented but determined, Harry scrambled for his wand. His fingers closed around it just in time, and with a powerful Expecto Patronum, he cast a bright, silvery stag that sent the Dementors fleeing. The attack was over, but Dudley was left nearly catatonic.
One of the best parts of this sequence was that it didn't have any nausea-inducing shaky-cam footage. Every frame was steady, perfectly composed, giving the film the polished, big-budget look it deserved.
Dragging a dazed Dudley back to Privet Drive, Harry was shocked to learn that Mrs. Figg—his eccentric next-door neighbor—had known about magic all along. But before he had time to process this revelation, a howler from the Ministry arrived, declaring his expulsion from Hogwarts.
Things only escalated from there. Soon after, members of the Order of the Phoenix—Tonks, Remus, Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley, and two unnamed figures—arrived to escort Harry away.
Applying Disillusionment Charms, they took flight from Privet Drive, soaring through the darkened sky toward Grimmauld Place. Upon arrival, Moody handed Harry a slip of parchment, the words scrawled in Dumbledore's unmistakable handwriting.
As soon as Harry read it, the hidden location revealed itself before his eyes.
"Fidelius," Harry murmured, recognizing the charm.
"Aye, lad," Moody grunted in approval. "You're a sharp one."
Unlike the original movie, where the Fidelius Charm was barely acknowledged, this version made sure it mattered.
Inside the dilapidated Black family home—now the headquarters of the Order—Harry barely had time to take in his surroundings before Molly Weasley promptly ordered him upstairs. There, Ron and Hermione were already waiting.
On the way up, he passed Kreacher, who was diligently scrubbing a large, grimy portrait. Harry ignored him and continued climbing.
As soon as he reached his friends, Hermione and Ron greeted him enthusiastically—only for Harry to shut them down instantly. He was furious, and he wasn't about to keep it to himself.
"Dumbledore thought you'd be safest with the Muggles," Ron offered weakly.
"Yeah? Have either of you almost died?" Harry shot back. "Or worse—expelled?"
Ron let out an involuntary chuckle at the unintended reference, but the moment Hermione and Harry turned to glare at him, he quickly disguised it as a cough.
I laughed along with the audience at that scene, knowing I had ad-libbed it during filming. The reactions from Emma and Jamie had been entirely genuine, and everything had fallen into place so perfectly that it felt great knowing Rian had kept it in.
But that laughter didn't last long.
Harry quickly turned on his friends, tearing into them for abandoning him in the Muggle world without any communication. Ron and Hermione apologized profusely. It seemed as if Harry was ready to retort, but before the argument could escalate, Ginny and the twins burst in, eager to snoop on the Order's affairs—only to be unsuccessful.
When they finally made their way downstairs, Harry had his long-awaited reunion with Sirius. The two hugged as if their lives depended on it, and the sheer joy on Harry's face was unmistakable.
Dinner at Grimmauld Place was anything but ordinary. Amidst the clatter of silverware and whispered conversations, Harry—and by extension, the audience—received much-needed exposition. Fudge, out of fear of being pushed out of power, had been actively tarnishing both Harry and Dumbledore's reputations. Meanwhile, Voldemort was biding his time, lurking in the shadows, searching for something he hadn't possessed in the past—something so significant that even the Order refused to tell Harry about it.
Then came the Ministry hearing, where it was clear from the start that the deck was stacked against him. The time of the trial had been moved up without prior notice, the full Wizengamot had been summoned—an excessive measure for a mere underage magic violation—and, to make matters worse, Harry wasn't even allowed to speak in his own defense.
That is, until—
"Witness for the defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."
Dumbledore's calm voice cut through the tension like a knife. The moment Harry saw him, half his worries melted away. His shoulders sagged in visible relief as the old man effortlessly took control of the hearing.
Mrs. Figg was called in to testify, making it abundantly clear to all but the most stubborn of minds that Harry had acted in self-defense. It soon became evident that the Minister's real objective was to discredit Harry rather than seek the truth. But the tide turned, and in a surprising outcome, the majority of the Wizengamot voted in Harry's favor. Just like that, he was free—no punishment, no expulsion.
Yet, even in victory, there was an unsettling moment. Dumbledore left the hearing without so much as a glance at Harry, ignoring him entirely. Confusion flickered across Harry's face, a question unspoken. Why?
The scene transitioned seamlessly into King's Cross Station, where Sirius had a brief but touching conversation with Harry about his parents. It was a rare moment of warmth before the storm ahead.
On the Hogwarts Express, Ron and Hermione were occupied with their prefect duties, leaving Harry to sit with Ginny, Neville, and Luna.
Then came one of the funniest scenes in the entire movie.
Neville, ever the herbology enthusiast, handed Harry a cactus-like plant for a few moments—only for disaster to strike when Harry accidentally sneezed on it. The plant promptly exploded, covering him from head to toe in a thick, shiny green slime.
And, as if fate had a sense of humor, that was the precise moment Cho Chang chose to enter the compartment.
The entire theater erupted into laughter. I grinned, knowing that the end result was worth getting dunked all over with that slime. But I couldn't laugh freely because I also knew the truth—this was the last lighthearted moment in the film. From here on out, things only got darker.
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AN: Visit my Pat reon to read ahead, or check out my second Hollywood story set in the 80s.
Link: www(dot)pat reon(dot)com/fableweaver