The "surprise" Columbus ntioned ca sooner than expected.
On January 10, 2003, in Akureyri—the northern capital of Iceland, famous for being an ice-free port—Isabella received the Prisoner of Azkaban script.
So yes, the "surprise" Columbus spoke of was that the Azkaban script was finally finished.
When Warner Bros. staff flew all the way from California to Iceland to hand-deliver the HP script, Isabella was genuinely stunned. She waited for an explanation and learned this was sothing both Columbus and Rowling had agreed upon. Columbus didn't want to face Rowling directly, and Rowling—eight months pregnant—didn't want to risk any complications. She also had no idea what Columbus might have changed in Azkaban.
So, both sides decided they needed a middleman.
Thus, the sweet little beaver—cough, excuse —the adorable "ambassador of friendship and peace" was the one dragged into the crossfire.
That realization made the little beaver twitch her ears.
Looking at the person who brought the script, she asked suspiciously,
"So, does this count as overti? Do I get paid extra for this?"
"Huh?" The Warner rep was dumbfounded.
"Oh~ I get it~" The girl smiled brightly. "You can settle in first. I'll take a look right away."
Once the visitor nodded, she shut the door to her presidential suite and made a ntal note in her "grudge ledger" for Columbus and Rowling.
Those two were clearly treating her as unpaid labor.
Hmph.
Fine, jokes aside—since the script was finally done, of course Isabella had to read it. Not because she wanted to rewrite anything; she never intended to be HP's screenwriter. But the sooner the script was finalized, the sooner filming could begin.
She couldn't dodge the HP job forever, and dragging things out was pointless.
Just as she was settling in with snacks to read, her assistant Robbie suddenly popped up like a startled groundhog.
"Isa~ can I read the script with you~?"
"Hm?"
Lounging on the sofa, head propped on the armrest, the little beaver let out a small "eh?"
"I'm a Potterhead~" Robbie declared again.
"Uh… fine…"
Isabella thought about it, then sat up. "You can read with , but no leaking anything."
"Okay, okay! Who would I even tell?"
Robbie perched excitedly on the sofa arm. And as she waited for "storyti," Catherine also crept over, stretching her neck like a goose.
With one on each side, Isabella suddenly felt like a mom reading bedti stories to kids.
"I seriously can't with you two—" she sighed.
"You have the original books, and you still need to read the script!"
Her complaint only made the two girls giggle harder.
After all, what kid in the Western world isn't a Harry Potter fan?
When Isabella finally opened the script, the product of the director and screenwriter's hard work unfolded before them.
Maybe because the publisher had always labeled HP as "children's literature," Azkaban had a layer of thoughtfulness without being overly complex.
The original story tells of a notorious wizarding prison, Azkaban, full of dangerous criminals. One day, a prisoner nad Sirius Black escapes and hunts for Harry Potter, seemingly to kill him and avenge Voldemort. But after many twists, it's revealed that Black wasn't after Harry at all, but Ron's pet Scabbers—who was actually Peter Pettigrew, the traitorous friend who betrayed Harry's parents to Voldemort. Black's true identity: Harry's godfather.
You can condense the story, sure—but trimming a script is another matter.
After only a few pages, the trio realized the movie script already differed from the novel.
In the book, Rowling spent an entire chapter describing Harry's sumr vacation after his second year—his phone calls and letters with friends—to show how different things were now that Dobby was gone. She wanted readers to feel the warmth of friendship and the sense of "ho" Harry found through Hogwarts.
But in the script, all that "warmth" Rowling carefully wrote was axed by the director and screenwriter.
The film instead opened with Harry clashing with the Dursleys again. Uncle Vernon's nasty sister cos to visit, insults Harry's parents, and pushes him too far. In anger, Harry ignores the Ministry's "no-magic-for-Muggles" rule and lashes out at his aunt—then runs away.
"Huh? They cut all the friendly contact scenes?" Robbie exclaid.
"I think it's a good change," Catherine said. By now she understood how movies differ from books. She could already see Robbie's pure fan bias.
"Maggie, movies have limited ti. You can't cram hundreds of pages in," Isabella agreed.
From a creator's perspective, she thought it worked.
If they fild the book scene-for-scene, the opening would drag endlessly.
Take the phone calls and letters, for instance—they represent "friends' concern." In a novel, you can show that through descriptive narration. In a film, what would that even look like? A flipping-page montage? If you're going to skip it, might as well skip it cleanly.
Otherwise, new viewers would just get confused.
As they kept reading, more differences piled up.
For example, in the novel, Harry learns about Ron's dad winning the Daily Prophet lottery and the family trip to Egypt through letters.
But in the script, that info cos later—after Harry runs away and ets Ron at the Leaky Cauldron.
The writers cut the early correspondence scenes, then recycled those lines into the bar sequence.
Why? Easy. Because Sirius' entire escape hinges on seeing that article about Ron's dad's trip—where he spots Pettigrew in a photo. That's what triggers the whole plot.
Cut that, and Prisoner of Azkaban might as well be called The Prophet of Azkaban.
You'd never be able to explain how Sirius found Pettigrew.
The change worked, but—
"Keisha, hand a pen," Isabella said suddenly.
"What for?"
Robbie, quicker on her feet, passed one over.
As Isabella marked the page, she said, "Since Mr. Weasley's win is the story's kickoff, wouldn't it make more sense to open with that? Like a news broadcast showing the Weasleys in Egypt?"
She continued, sketching it out aloud:
"Then cut to Harry hiding under the covers, reading Ron's letter by flashlight. It would only take two shots, maybe four or five seconds, and it'd instantly convey warmth."
In the original, Harry was under the covers with a flashlight—but doing howork. Isabella figured they could ditch the 'studying' part (leave the academic overachiever stuff to Hermione, cough), but keep the warmth of "ho" that made fans love HP in the first place.
"Then, just as Harry smiles, Uncle Vernon's footsteps approach. He hides the letter, the light goes off. Vernon announces his sister's coming visit and warns Harry to behave. That leads naturally into the confrontation later."
"That interruption—Vernon catching Harry reading—would make the later pub conversation flow better," she added. "Harry didn't finish reading, so he's curious how Ron's trip went."
"And we can show the Hogsade permission form tucked behind Ron's letter—that way, the whole 'guardian's signature' plotline is introduced early."
"Then, when Harry negotiates with Vernon, his restraint around Aunt Marge makes sense: he wants that signature. And when he finally loses it, it's not just anger—it's because no school trip, no fun, could ever replace his parents. That longing for family is exactly what Rowling wanted to express."
Isabella wasn't a screenwriter, true, but she was a passionate fan.
So as long as she could clarify the story for casual viewers without hurting the structure, she was happy.
Catherine, who knew her sister's real relationship with Rowling and Columbus, didn't take this "tinkering" seriously—she even jumped in with her own thoughts.
But to Robbie, watching all this unfold was earth-shattering.
"I-Isa… are you rewriting the script?" she blurted during a break.
"No, I'm just giving so feedback from a fan's perspective," Isabella smiled. "Final say belongs to Rowling, not ."
"…" Robbie fell silent, unsure if Isabella was joking.
Catherine rolled her eyes and smirked—her sister loved teasing kids.
Just like the previous two films, Azkaban ran around 150 to 180 minutes. Over 200 pages of script—not long to read, but ti-consuming to tweak.
Isabella got the script on January 10 and didn't finish until the 12th.
When she finally handed it back to Warner's people, they imdiately flew off to Scotland.
Right—Scotland, not California. Because the version Columbus and screenwriter Kloves had agreed upon was already their final draft. Only Rowling could make changes now.
So the process went like this: Isabella reads, then Rowling reads—that was the final step in Azkaban's script developnt.
Wait.
Isabella reads, then Rowling reads?
When that final step in the process appeared, Isabella suddenly burst out laughing.
Watching the Warner Bros. staff walking farther and farther away, the girl said, "Keisha."
"Mm?"
"Do you ever get the feeling that my standing in the crew is higher than Chris's now?"
Following her sister's train of thought, Catherine grinned too. "Oh, so should I be calling you Producer Heywood?"
"Hehehe~~~"
Isabella wagged her happy little tail.
After all, if she could make changes to the director's and screenwriter's script, didn't that make her second only to the top?
And in the Harry Potter project, being second only to one person?
"Oh, I'm amazing~"
Feeling smug, hands stuffed in her pockets, Isabella yawned. "Keisha, we've been in Iceland for ten days now, right? How about we go sowhere else? Honestly, it's a bit cold here…"
Before Azkaban officially started filming, Isabella didn't have any work, so she could vacation anywhere she pleased.
And no one worried she'd go missing—she was still under Warner's security, practically a walking GPS beacon screaming, "I'm right here!"
But just as she thought they could finally change locations, several uninvited guests suddenly arrived.
When they revealed who they were—
Paramount.
Their reason—
They wanted to talk to Margot Robbie about a project.
Then they presented Queen Bee.
Robbie was surprised; the Heywood family, however, was thrilled for her.
"Oh, Margot~ I think it's ti you faced your mother," Vivian said with a smile. "Call her and tell her soone's offering you a project—she'll be over the moon."
Catherine nodded. "Even though Paramount says Queen Bee won't start filming for another year, the fact they're saying this in front of us ans they're serious. They're even willing to sign a contract in advance."
"So, you might want to ask your mom to find you a lawyer…"
The story of an Girls takes place in a high school.
And right now, Margot Robbie wasn't even thirteen.
Sure, Western kids mature early—her baby fat was long gone, and she already stood at 1.5 ters barefoot. With platform shoes or heels, she could totally pass for a high schooler.
But an Girls' protagonist had a certain flirtatious edge.
That sort of presence required Robbie to mature a bit more.
So when Paramount made their offer, they honestly admitted she wasn't quite what the book described yet—but they could wait. By the end of the year, early next year, maybe midyear, they'd call her to film Queen Bee. That kind of statent ant they were genuinely interested.
Talking about next year's project this year—classic "advance planning" in Hollywood.
Not to ntion, signing talent early also prevents poaching.
Disney always poached people quietly.
Paramount wasn't stupid enough to let that happen.
And all this—
"Oh~~~ Ms. Vivian, Sister Keisha, thank you for the advice!" Robbie bead.
She was overjoyed—soone finally believed in her!
But at the sa ti, she hesitated to call her mom right away. "Ms. Vivian, could you recomnd a manager instead?"
"My mom doesn't really have ti for ."
"So… I might need to sign with an agency before I can start working."
Finding an agent before entering the industry was the classic move.
And with a contract in place, an agency could even temporarily hold or represent a minor's guardianship rights—making it easier for underage perforrs to work legally.
Uh…
Yeah, that's also why the industry's such a ss.
When third parties can temporarily "own" guardianship, all kinds of sketchy things can happen.
So, in theory, having soone you trust recomnd an agent—or sharing the sa one—is the safest and simplest way to avoid traps.
Except…
Isabella didn't have an agent.
So she could only apologize to Robbie.
"W-what? Isabella, you don't have an agent?"
Robbie thought she'd misheard.
Isabella nodded with a grin. "That's right, because I don't need one."
"Or rather, none of us in the crew really need one."
The unexpected statent left Robbie speechless.
Her dumbfounded look made Isabella glance at her mom and sister.
After a brief exchange of looks, Vivian cleared her throat. "Margot."
"Yes?"
"Actually, we've been thinking about sothing."
"Please, tell , Ms. Vivian."
"It's lonely trying to make it in showbiz alone. So… uh… we've been considering starting our own company—an agency, actually. Not a big one, because we don't have the energy for that…"
"I'm in!"
Before Vivian even finished, Robbie shouted, "I want to sign with you!"
Her determined eyes and bright tone made the entire Heywood family laugh.
"Okay, then let's head back to London first."
Isabella clapped her hands, announcing the end of their vacation.
If at first her idea to start an agency had been simply to help Robbie out, now she genuinely felt it was necessary to form a team.
Because just because she had no bad intentions didn't an others wouldn't co after her.
Like Harvey Weinstein—he just popped up out of nowhere to be vile.
If the world's going to be this rotten—if standing in soone's way ans they'll try to destroy you—then soloing Hollywood was no longer an option.
Building a circle ant survival.
And honestly, even giants like George Lucas and Steven Spielberg stuck together.
Francis Ford Coppola, Martin Scorsese, Clint Eastwood, Ron Howard, Chris Columbus, Robert Zeckis, David Fincher—they were all in the sa network.
Eastwood, Howard, Columbus, Zeckis—they were connected to the first two.
No need to repeat that.
Coppola had even brought Lucas into the industry.
Back then, he produced Arican Graffiti for Lucas when MGM, Paramount, Fox, and Columbia all refused to fund it. Coppola leveraged his Godfather fa to secure the investnt.
And Lucas returned the favor.
When Coppola later struggled to find funding, Lucas personally financed his film.
So, why are they so tight?
Because when tis were tough, they pulled each other up.
Sa with David Fincher—he was Lucas's neighbor. His first job was working on Star Wars.
With that résumé and those connections, as long as he learned filmmaking seriously, success was inevitable.
If the greats all tead up, then "soloing Hollywood" was just a fantasy.
When Isabella and the others finally returned to London, the first thing she did was seek out Valentine O'Connor.
Yeah, the bald guy with the power haircut—he could be trusted.
If nothing else, at least he had professional ethics.
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