On March 23, 2003, J.K. Rowling gave birth to her first child from her second marriage at the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh.
It was a boy. Rowling and her husband, Murray, named him David.
Since Prisoner of Azkaban was already filming at the time, Isabella couldn't take time off to visit, though of course she made a caring phone call. Vivian even sneaked over between shooting days to deliver a gift in person.
With the baby's arrival and her "life milestone" done, Rowling naturally turned her attention back to work—she said that if she didn't, her brain would rust. Thus, the release of The Order of the Phoenix was put on the publisher's schedule.
Originally, the release date was set for June 21, but when Disney and Warner announced they'd be airing The Voice around that time, the publisher briskly moved the book launch to July 5.
Understandable. If The Order of the Phoenix had dropped on June 21, the same day as The Voice auditions, it would have been a disaster. Most of Isabella's fans were Potterheads, after all.
Two major fan events colliding? You think people would rather line up for a book or a talent show audition? Exactly.
When the world's strongest publisher runs into the two biggest media giants on Earth, compromise is the only sensible option.
Not that Rowling minded much. The Goblet of Fire had also been released in July and absolutely crushed it—three million copies sold in the U.S. and over two million in the U.K. during its first weekend. And that was before any HP movies had come out.
So, with the films now fueling Pottermania, moving Phoenix to a summer release again was a no-brainer—first-day sales in the U.S. and U.K. combined could easily hit five million.
Since the change wouldn't hurt sales and was made because of a "friend's project," Rowling was perfectly fine with the new date. In fact, she asked Isabella to join her at the book signing tour.
Her logic: "I rescheduled for your show, the least you can do is show up for mine."
A fair trade. Isabella agreed without hesitation.
She also knew Rowling's real motive. Rowling could handle fans but loathed the press. Having Isabella there was as much about using her as a shield as it was about companionship.
But Isabella didn't care.
Most of her fans came from Hermione anyway—Rowling's invitation was basically an official endorsement. Besides, Rowling had helped her plenty before. Playing decoy was the least she could do.
"So she got me time off?" Isabella asked between bites of dinner.
Her shooting schedule for July 5 had scenes planned.
"She said you should ask for leave yourself," Catherine said, shaking her head.
"Oh—so she's still avoiding Chris, huh?" Isabella chuckled.
Even though Rowling and Columbus had technically "made peace," everyone knew that was just polite fiction. No communication was the best communication.
Understanding that, Isabella didn't take it personally. After another few bites, a mischievous idea struck her. "Hey, what if I just ask Rowling for the leave directly?"
"She's a producer on the film, right? Technically, by Hollywood rules, requesting leave from the producer is totally valid, yeah?"
Her mom and sister froze mid-chew.
Both stared at her like she'd just suggested juggling chainsaws.
"If you're not afraid of Chris yelling at you, go for it," her mom said, lips twitching.
"I think Rowling would hit you with your own leave slip," Catherine added dryly.
Isabella stuck out her tongue.
She wasn't actually going to do it. She valued her life too much.
Anyway, once July 5 was officially marked as an external engagement, she applied for leave the next day. Columbus wasn't stupid—he'd seen how The Order of the Phoenix had moved for The Voice—so he wasn't surprised. He had his line producer, Michael Barnathan, rearrange things and moved her July 5 scenes to June 28.
Then Vivian took a few people to buy gifts for the crew.
It was technically just a schedule shift, but no one likes extra work.
Isabella always made sure to show proper gratitude.
While she was busy with all that, unaware of the chaos brewing in North America, Disney's king, Michael Eisner, was meeting with the spoiled heir Edgar Bronfman Jr. in California.
They met in Eisner's private club—luxurious, soundproof, expensive. Eisner, dark circles and all, leaned on the leather sofa. When Bronfman arrived, Eisner ordered his favorite wine, made some polite small talk, then got to the point.
"Edgar, I'll be blunt. Plans have changed. I need to use Eminem now. How's your side of the prep going?"
Bronfman adjusted his glasses, smiling. "All ready. As soon as you say the word, Eminem will go after Isabella."
"Good," Eisner said, puffing on his cigar. "You deserve to know the new plan."
The first phase of their "Anti-Voice Alliance" smear campaign had already failed.
They'd tried to dirty The Voice's name using Michael Arndt, but he'd chickened out. Their whole "fake brand" narrative had fallen flat—no one believed it.
And since the first half of their plan had failed, they couldn't use the second half—calling the show "plagiarized."
The logic was simple: when your first accusation (backed by some truth) fails to stick, no one buys the follow-up lies. Public sympathy flips instantly, and you become the villain.
Especially when your target is a 13-year-old girl.
Attack her, and you're not a powerful media syndicate—you're a cartoon villain handing her plot armor.
So they needed a new move: stop attacking The Voice and start attacking Isabella directly. Eisner's plan was to unleash Eminem early.
"July 4," Eisner said, grinning. "Independence Day. Perfect timing. Two reasons."
"One: nothing gets more attention than attacking a British girl on America's Independence Day. It's the ultimate patriotic clickbait."
"Two: she'll appear publicly on July 5 for the Order of the Phoenix signing. That's our window to capture her reaction."
"She'll be caught off guard. She's thirteen—no way she stays composed."
"And once we get a photo of her looking shocked, we'll spin it as guilt."
It was devious, meticulous, and utterly vile.
Bronfman smirked, impressed but cautious. "What if she changes her schedule? Disney and Warner have been pretty quick to respond before."
Eisner flashed his teeth. "That's why it's happening at Lollapalooza. July 5 is the festival, July 4 is rehearsal. Eminem will rant onstage. No one will see it coming."
"Eminem's a maniac—he insults everyone. No one will take it seriously at first, not even Disney or Warner."
"By the time they realize it's coordinated, it'll be too late. Indiana's five hours behind London. They won't be able to warn her before the signing."
"This time," Eisner said, swirling his wine, "they won't outrun time itself."
Their glasses clinked, and laughter echoed in the expensive silence.
Then, on June 29, fate intervened.
Hollywood legend Katharine Hepburn passed away. The entire U.S. mourned—President Bush even made a speech.
Eisner nearly smashed his glass. "God must really love that kid," he hissed.
If the mourning dominated the news, Eminem's attack would flop. But fortunately for Eisner, it didn't last. Hepburn had been out of the spotlight too long. By July 1, Broadway dimmed its lights, and the world moved on.
July 2: Shady Records announced Eminem's Lollapalooza appearance. Tickets sold out instantly.
July 3: calm before the storm.
July 4: rehearsal day.
And on July 5—
London, Charing Cross Road 111–119.
Foyles Bookstore, five stories tall and large enough to fit fifteen basketball courts. Over a century of history, thousands of notable guests. But today, all glory belonged to Harry Potter.
Even after three movie premieres, two of them Harry Potter, Isabella had never seen anything like this.
The entire street was packed. Lines stretched south to Leicester Square and north to Oxford Street—a sea of humanity.
When Isabella stepped out of the car with Rowling, the roar was deafening.
"Wow," Isabella murmured, leaning toward Rowling. "Feels like you brought me here just to show off."
Rowling laughed, waving to fans. "You kidding? I heard them scream your name too. When you stepped out, all I heard was 'Hermione!'"
"Ha!" Isabella grinned.
The appearance hadn't been announced publicly.
And yet the crowd was waiting.
So, apart from the staff and a few insiders, no one knew she was coming.
Which was why, the instant she stepped out of the car, the crowd's roar erupted—not just in surprise, not just in excitement, but in pure welcome.
At that moment, the little figure skipping toward the venue embodied disbelief and joy and proof that the rumors were true.
As the two waved to the fans, staff brought over microphones. Rowling took hers with practiced ease and greeted the spontaneous crowd of readers. After a round of friendly hellos, she pointed to Isabella and said, "You all know who this is, right?"
"Yeah~~~"
"And she is?"
"Hermione——!"
The perfectly synchronized response made Rowling laugh out loud. She threw an arm around Isabella's shoulders. Rowling wore a flowing blue dress, elegant and radiant like a siren, while Isabella, in her simple white dress, looked like a little white flower come to life.
"Okay," Rowling said, smiling mischievously, "do you know why I invited her here today?"
"No idea——"
"To surprise us?"
"Because she's Hermione?"
Rowling listened for a moment, then shook her head decisively. "No, no, no, you're all wrong."
"Ever since Harry Potter became a movie, Hermione has been the most popular character."
"Honestly, sometimes she's even more popular than me, the author."
"I'll admit, in the film world, I can't compete with her. But outside of film…"
"She just told me I'm the bigger star."
With that, Rowling lifted her chin proudly.
The sight of her hugging Isabella and so openly declaring victory made the crowd burst into laughter.
The young girl rolled her eyes in helpless amusement, reached for the microphone, and addressed the sea of Potterheads:
"Okay, okay, okay—since Rowling insists on competing, then tell me loudly: who did you come for today?"
"Harry——!"
The shout was thunderous. Isabella frowned. Clearly displeased, she tried again.
"I'll give you one more chance."
"Rowling——!"
Her face darkened. The crowd howled with laughter.
Only on her third try did the fans finally give the right answer—
"You——!"
"Good."
As the roar rose again, Isabella turned triumphantly to Rowling. "See? I'm more popular than you."
That did it. The whole signing event became a sea of laughter. Rowling mock-glared at her, gave her a playful shove, then smoothly shifted back into host mode to welcome everyone properly.
Book signings are simple affairs.
After a bit of crowd interaction, the author sits down to sign.
Writers sell books, after all, not performances. Books deserve quiet attention; singers are the ones who have to open their throats.
So after a warm chat with fans, Rowling took her seat at the signing table and began to autograph The Order of the Phoenix for the waiting crowd. Isabella stood nearby, passing the freshly signed copies to readers.
Of course, some fans wanted her autograph or a photo together. To those, Isabella said with mock regret:
"Next time, promise."
"Not today."
"She'll scold me if I do."
She pointed at Rowling.
Rowling looked up mid-signature, giving her a sideways glare that was all mock annoyance, which made everyone laugh even harder.
The signing started at 9 a.m. and lasted until 2 p.m.
That didn't mean everyone got a personal autograph—five hours was Rowling's limit. After that, her hand just couldn't take it anymore. Those at the back of the line had to settle for pre-signed copies.
Sure, it was a little disappointing for some fans, but that's just how signings go. They accepted it with good grace, vowing to arrive earlier next time.
Once the signing wrapped up, the press interviews for the new book began.
Only major authors get to make the press wait till after the fans. Smaller ones wouldn't dare—ignore the media, and the media will ruin you.
Maybe it was Isabella's surprise appearance, or maybe she really was that famous, but after a few questions about The Order of the Phoenix, the journalists turned their focus to the two of them.
They asked why Isabella was attending, whether she'd read the new book in advance, what she thought of Rowling's writing, how Prisoner of Azkaban was coming along, and when it would hit theaters.
The flood of questions made the girl's head spin, while Rowling sat beside her, quietly amused.
This was exactly why she hated the press—endless interrogation and nitpicking.
In the past, she'd had to endure it. But today…
"The Azkaban movie should come out next summer, right? A summer release?" Isabella began. "As for filming—let's just say we'll finish this year. Anything more, I can't tell you, since the producer's sitting right here. I can't spill production secrets in front of her. That'd be crazy."
She shrugged innocently.
The reporters burst out laughing.
Seeing how well Isabella handled the room, Rowling happily let her keep answering.
So the questions drifted further—
about her rumored feud with Michael Arndt,
about The Voice show's production,
about why the show would debut in America instead of the UK.
All were on Warner's pre-approved list, so Isabella handled them with ease, and Rowling enjoyed one of the most pleasant interview sessions of her life.
Until, just as they were about to leave, a hand went up.
"Excuse me, Ms. Rowling, Miss Haywood," said a reporter. "I'm from The London Times. I have one more question."
"I'd like to know, Ms. Rowling—what do you think of Miss Haywood's personal mini-album? It's been selling very well, and it includes quite a few 'beaver' elements."
Normally, journalists had to raise their hands and be called on before asking questions. Anyone who broke that rule could be ignored.
But this one was tricky.
Rowling had never officially called Hermione "Miss Beaver" in the books—only mentioned her large front teeth, which Malfoy magically exaggerated at one point. Still, the nickname had stuck.
So when Isabella included "beaver" motifs in her music, it was… obvious.
Legally, it wasn't infringement. Rowling had never trademarked the term.
But from a public perspective, it looked like Isabella was borrowing Rowling's creation—or at least the Harry Potter brand—for clout.
If the two ignored the question, the reporter could spin a headline about "tension" between them. And since The London Times had a reputation nearly as bad as The Sun, everyone believed he'd do it.
But if they answered poorly, he'd twist that too.
Rowling mentally sighed. She hated this kind of trap. But she couldn't stay silent, so before the staff could intervene, she wrapped an arm around the girl beside her and smiled.
"The first time I met Isabella, I liked her immediately," she said.
"She's clever, beautiful, and kind. Every mother in the world would want a daughter like her. We're very close—she was at my wedding and even gave me my ring. Earlier this year, when I was pregnant, she came to keep me company."
"So yes, I'm truly happy about her album's success."
Her words made Isabella smile softly. "Thank you," the girl murmured.
Rowling raised an eyebrow and leaned in, pressing her forehead gently against Isabella's.
Cameras clicked wildly to capture the moment.
But then the London Times reporter spoke again.
"So, Ms. Rowling, you've known all along that Miss Haywood's been making money off her fans?"
"What?"
The crowd froze.
No one understood what he meant—until he added, "Yesterday at the Lollapalooza festival, Eminem harshly criticized Miss Haywood, calling her a 'cash-grabbing queen' who manipulates her fans."
The room exploded. Every journalist there realized they'd just been handed a massive story.
All eyes turned to Isabella, waiting for her reaction.
The girl blinked, genuinely confused.
"Eminem? Who's that?"