In Isabella's previous life, Alfonso Cuarón had accepted Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban without even reading the original books. So, the film he adapted ended up quite different from the novel.
What made not only the book fans, but even casual viewers, nearly lose their minds was Cuarón's decision to delete the scene where Harry wins the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor for the first time.
Fans couldn't accept that because Quidditch runs through the entire series—without it, the story feels flavorless, like a dish with no seasoning. Casual viewers couldn't accept it either, because once that victory was gone, the Alfonso version of Azkaban no longer made sense. In his film, the story ends with Harry receiving the Firebolt from Sirius Black, and he's thrilled about it. But without Quidditch, that entire emotional ending just… collapses.
To be fair, though, the blame couldn't all be pinned on Alfonso. Even at his peak, he never held the holy grail of filmmaking: final cut privilege.
Unlike Chris Columbus, who could shoot exactly what he wanted, Alfonso didn't have that freedom. So, when Azkaban fell flat under him—well, it's hard not to suspect that Warner Bros. was just looking for someone to blame.
Since Isabella knew how important Quidditch was, she'd made a point of checking that very scene early in the year when she was reviewing the Azkaban script. Once she confirmed Columbus hadn't cut it, she finally relaxed.
And now, the crew was filming exactly that: the Quidditch final—Gryffindor versus Slytherin.
The flying parts with Harry on a broom had to be done indoors with wires, obviously, since Harry couldn't actually fly. But the entrance, the face-off, the cheering section—those were all being shot on location at Ivinghoe, right next to Leavesden.
After yelling a few takes per Columbus's direction, Isabella's close-ups were done for the day. Now all she had to do was blend into the background with the extras, cheering and shouting for Harry.
Because the day's work was easy, the girl's laughter was genuine when she sat down, and her cheerful look made the woman beside her turn with a smirk. "Isabella, Chris is really wicked, isn't he?"
"Huh?" The sudden comment confused her.
Professor McGonagall—Maggie Smith—smiled. "Chris knows you're a singer now, yet he still makes you film scenes where you have to scream your lungs out. How cruel of him, right?"
"…Are you mocking Chris or teasing me?" Isabella pouted. "Because it sounds like you're saying, 'Even though I'm this famous now, I still work hard myself.'"
Her deadpan reply made the professor laugh even more. "What do you think?"
"I think you're complimenting me." Isabella nodded solemnly. "You know me—I love compliments. So you must be saying I'm dedicated to my work, right? Even though I have to protect my voice, I still finish every shot seriously. Oh, I'm amazing."
"Hahaha!"
Maggie burst out laughing. The girl's mock self-praise cracked her up.
Seeing the shoot wasn't being disturbed, she continued, "Isabella, let me ask you something."
"Go ahead."
"Do you find acting or singing more fun?"
"Hmm…" Isabella thought for a moment. "Right now, I'd say acting."
"Why?"
"Because when I sing, I have to use my brain. But when I act, you are my brain."
Her nonsense rolled on with perfect seriousness. "Music relies on individual strength. When I record, it's a whole crowd listening to me alone—if I mess up, it's over. That's stressful. But acting is different. If you're standing next to me and my performance flops, I can just say Chris directed me wrong. With you covering for me, I feel no pressure."
"So acting's fun—it's play without consequences."
"…You little rascal." Maggie's lips twitched. They locked eyes, then both burst out laughing.
The older woman reached out to playfully swat her. "You're getting cheekier by the day!"
Isabella just collapsed against her, giggling. "Oh no, Professor Maggie, if you hit me again, I'll have to report you for child abuse! You wouldn't want to make headlines as the evil witch, would you?"
Her words made the nearby crew erupt in laughter.
Chris Columbus, confused by the noise, turned to look. Seeing Isabella slouching and laughing instead of behaving, he snatched up his megaphone and shouted, "Isabella! I know you're a Diva now, but this is a film set, not a concert stage! If you don't stop fooling around, I'll kick your butt!"
"…"
Called out by name, Isabella quickly straightened her back.
It wasn't even her fault—Maggie had started it! But as soon as Columbus turned away, she glared at her professor and muttered, "You're as bad as Snape. You just made your student take the blame for you."
"Hehehe~" Maggie's silent laugh shook her shoulders. Lifting her chin with mock authority, she said, "A diva must take greater responsibility than others. So, dear, this is your duty."
"…Hmph." Isabella sulked.
She ignored her after that.
The anti-Isabella crowd outside the set had been relentless. Their only goal seemed to be to destroy her. The whole Azkaban crew had witnessed that earlier storm of hate.
At first, everyone was outraged, rallying around her and defending her against the rumors.
But after Isabella released Party in the U.S.A.…
The tone changed completely.
Before that, even though everyone knew she had talent, their compliments were just polite. They figured her success was half due to the Harry Potter brand.
But once Party in the U.S.A. dropped—everything changed.
Even if most of them weren't music experts, they could feel the message. They all knew it was a rebuttal to Eminem. They all knew it mocked him. Yet there wasn't a single line of direct insult in the lyrics.
The fact that she could diss someone so cleanly and still make everyone understand who she meant left the crew dumbfounded. From that moment, people started calling her "the Diva." No "little" anything.
Once the song stormed up the charts at lightning speed, the nickname stuck.
"Oh—the Diva's causing chaos again today!"
"Oh—the Diva's giving us more blooper reel content!"
"Oh—will the director end up on her hit list after threatening her?"
By 4 p.m., "Diva Isabella" finally clocked out.
On the ride back, laughter filled the bus.
Everyone's teasing made her scowl. Sitting up front, she turned and mock-growled, "I'll give you all one chance—shut up now, or you're all going on my assassination list. Everything you've done on set will become a song and go viral worldwide."
"Hahahaha!"
Her blatant threat sent the bus into another fit of laughter.
Rupert pointed at her and shouted, "Director! Isn't this terrorism? Shouldn't she be punished?"
Before Columbus could reply, Isabella fired back, "Rupert, if I were you, I'd put that finger away."
"Why?" he blinked.
Daniel snorted, "Because she can write a whole song about you. Imagine one called Rupert Grint debuting on Billboard, first line: 'When we first met, we were young, Rupert was the king of being late to auditions—wow, so cool!'"
Rupert shuddered and lowered his hand. "I'm joking, Isabella. Please don't make me a song. I've done too many dumb things."
She rolled her eyes. More laughter erupted.
Despite all the teasing, Isabella didn't mind. In fact, she liked it. The atmosphere was light, warm, and genuine.
Ambition might drive the world, but endless competition just makes people miserable. To laugh and relax after hard work—now that was true happiness.
The laughter slowly faded. Then came a few snickers behind her—Rupert again.
She raised an eyebrow, gesturing for him to speak.
"Isabella, to celebrate you surviving the storm," he said boldly, "we want to take you to a movie."
Classic setup. Isabella felt like she'd time-traveled two years back. "Let me guess—Dinosaur again?"
Rupert froze. The others too. Their guilty faces said it all.
She turned toward the front. "Director, someone's planning a group movie night."
Columbus had warned them before—since the cast had become famous, public outings were risky.
"What movie?" he asked, glancing at the group.
"Pirates of the Caribbean," the boys replied honestly.
The title alone made Columbus blink in surprise. He looked at Isabella, who was equally intrigued, then nodded at his producer Michael Barnathan to arrange a private screening.
Cheers filled the bus. Isabella, curious, asked, "You all want to see that so badly? It only came out yesterday, right?"
"Yeah!" Bonnie nodded eagerly. "I've been waiting forever! They say it's the hottest movie of the summer!"
On July 9, 2003, Pirates of the Caribbean officially premiered in North America.
Isabella couldn't quite recall the final box office numbers from her past life, only that it had been a huge hit.
In this timeline, the movie's opening week looked like this:
Day 1: $15.5 million across 3,023 theaters Day 2 (Thursday): $12.48 million Day 3 (Friday): $16.84 million Day 4 (Saturday): $19.41 million Day 5 (Sunday): $16.37 million Day 6 (Monday): $9.5 million Day 7 (Tuesday): $9.35 million
That meant it fell just short of the $100 million mark by a mere $550,000 after its first week.
Honestly, that was a shame—seven-day $100M openings were a rare feat back then.
But for a brand-new franchise without any proven box office superstar? That performance was nothing short of explosive.
Waiting for the calendar to hit July 28th—the 20th day after the movie's release—Pirates of the Caribbean kept riding a wave of word-of-mouth success, blasting past the $200 million mark in North America. Johnny Depp had officially become the second-brightest star of the summer.
Because Pirates was the fourth film that summer to break $200 million!
And it did it at the second-fastest speed!
Keira Knightley also became the second most popular actress of the summer.
Why "second"? Because the fastest record-holder was Finding Nemo.
That's animation—a whole different race. They're both champions of their own lanes!
What's that?
Someone asked, "If Pirates did so amazingly, why are Depp and Keira still only ranked 'second' in fame and buzz?"
Well, that's when little Isabella proudly raised her chin.
Because the "Anti-Voice Alliance" launched their attacks that summer against Isabella!
Because Isabella dropped Party in the U.S.A. that summer!
Because The Voice was doing auditions that summer!
Because before Pirates came out, Disney was still introducing Keira Knightley as "Lily's sister"!
Hmph.
"Oh—this movie's surprisingly good—"
"Johnny's performance is hilarious!"
"The skeletons look so real! And they dodge attacks because they have no flesh? That's genius!"
"Keira and Orlando are such a perfect match—"
"Wait, that Orlando guy—isn't he the elf prince?"
"Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! That's him!"
The group entered the theater at 5:30 and didn't leave until nearly 8.
Those 150 minutes brought everyone pure joy, and on the way home, chatter filled the car—along with thanks to Columbus.
After all, he was the one who took everyone to see the movie.
The kids' happiness pleased Columbus. Like Isabella, he enjoyed this kind of simple pleasure.
While smiling and accepting everyone's praise, he noticed Isabella sitting quietly beside him.
So, once the excited kids were busy chatting among themselves, he swapped seats with Bonnie to sit next to her.
"What's wrong? Didn't like the movie?"
"No, why do you think that?"
"You didn't join the discussion."
"Oh—that's because—everything went exactly how I expected—"
"Wow, really? You're saying you guessed the ending from the start?"
"Of course—I'm a genius."
Isabella had nothing against Pirates of the Caribbean. In her past life, she'd actually liked the series.
She just suddenly remembered something:
In her previous life, Disney once planned a project called Pirates of the Caribbean: The Female Pirate. Jerry Bruckheimer wanted Margot Robbie to star, but for various reasons, the project died in development. That had always felt like such a pity to Isabella…
Yep. Isabella was thinking about Pirates of the Caribbean: The Female Pirate!
Just the title sounded amazing!
Too bad… Disney never made it.
"Chris, are you checking on me out of concern?"
Isabella smiled at Columbus. "You embarrassed me today, so this is your guilty conscience acting up?"
Columbus rolled his eyes.
"Okay, I'll take that as an apology. Thanks. But I have a question."
"What?"
"Why did you take us to see a movie today? I thought you wanted to stay low-key?"
"Oh, that? If I said I mainly wanted to see it myself, would you believe me?"
He gave her a playful wink.
She didn't buy it.
"If you really wanted to see it, you could've gone alone."
Her raised eyebrow made Columbus smile as he looked ahead—the sky over London was just turning dark.
"I'm not lying, Isa. I really wanted to watch it. It just happened to match what everyone else wanted."
"The reason I wanted to watch it is simple—I have a project someone wants me to develop. It involves superpowers, so I wanted to see how other films handle that."
"So… research?"
Her curiosity was instantly piqued.
"Oh, director, you've got a new project?"
Her eyes lit up like fireworks. Columbus couldn't help but chuckle. "You can't star in this one."
"Why? Because it's about superpowers? Would that clash with Hermione?"
"No."
"Huh? Then what?"
"Because the project is called Fantastic Four. It's a grown-up fairy tale—and you're not even an adult yet."
"What?"
Isabella thought she'd misheard.
Fantastic Four? Isn't that a Marvel property?
And Columbus just said he has it?
That can't be right…
She quickly rifled through her memories.
In her previous life, Columbus didn't hold the rights to any Marvel IP.
So…
"Director, you have the Fantastic Four rights?"
She stared at him. "Where did you get those?"
"Oh—that was ten years ago."
Earlier it was mentioned that Spider-Man's success had pushed superhero movies into Hollywood's spotlight. Everyone wanted a piece of the action, and naturally, Chris Columbus was on their radar—because he held part of the Fantastic Four rights.
That ownership traced back to his mentor, Steven Spielberg.
Spielberg was a comic fan—DC, Marvel, all of it. He almost directed Superman in the '70s, the one with Marlon Brando and Christopher Reeve.
But Jaws made him too expensive for Warner Bros., and then George Lucas showed him Star Wars.
Lucas said, "Why shoot someone else's Superman when you can make your own?"
So Spielberg helped with that instead.
And once you miss a chance like that, it's gone forever.
Star Wars' success meant Spielberg would never touch superhero movies again—too much ego at stake. But he still liked comics. So he'd buy up IPs and have others make them for him.
For example, Marvel's Men in Black series? That was one of his finds.
Then came the Fantastic Four story…
When he bought Men in Black, Marvel's Avi Arad also tried to sell him Fantastic Four, but Spielberg refused. He thought that IP had been tainted.
Here's why: the rights had been sold in 1986, but since no film was made, the holders faced losing them back to Marvel. So they spent $1 million hiring B-movie legend Roger Corman to make a fake, unreleased film—just to satisfy the contract. It was basically a scam.
Marvel was furious and bought the negatives back in 1994, reclaiming the rights in name but not reputation. Spielberg, caring about prestige, wanted nothing to do with a "tainted" superhero franchise.
But Columbus was intrigued.
"I wrote a Fantastic Four script in 1995, but it never got made," Columbus said. "Constantin Films didn't like my story."
"But as I became more successful, they started thinking maybe they'd misjudged me. So they reached out again. Since my original deal involved creative partnership…"
Columbus turned toward Isabella.
"Oh—I get it now."
"The script rights."
She nodded, smiling.