Though the internet changed human life, every change takes time to mature.
In 2003, the online world was nowhere near as rich as it would later become.
Take entertainment, for example. In a world where YouTube didn't exist and TikTok was but a fever dream, "surfing the web" meant checking the news, chatting with people, listening to music, and playing a few games.
Even then, gaming was still kind of "niche."
Sure, Battle.net already existed, and Steam had been born, but thanks to miserable internet speeds, most games were still shared by CD-ROM—because downloading them was an act of self-torture.
So, for people in the West, online games and console games didn't seem all that different. Apart from mouse-based strategy titles or Counter-Strike, most of the gaming scene revolved around consoles.
But you can't cage a fun soul with bad tech.
After Isabella's silent "emoji instead of language" bit on The Voice went viral, people began copying her. Fans captured her beaver expressions from recordings, used Photoshop to cut them out, and soon everyone online had their own set of Beaver emojis.
And it didn't stop there.
First came the "literal" version—people using the exact faces she'd shown on TV.
Then came the "fan-made upgrade"—artists decided she didn't have enough expressions and started adding their own.
And the third version? That was pure chaos: fan edits everywhere, the beaver popping up across every corner of the early internet.
To put it bluntly—Isabella had gone full Mundo, going wherever she pleases.
When The Voice aired new episodes, people would watch TV with one eye and comment live online.
The contestants performed on-screen—meanwhile, on Yahoo! forums, fans were voting and spamming emojis:
"Good song! Turn the chair!"
"Bad song! Don't turn!"
"Amazing performance!"
"Awful! Get off the stage!" dizzy-face Beaver
And when opinions clashed?
They'd duel—Beaver vs. Beaver.
The internet's first meme wars.
Even news sites weren't safe.
Where people used to comment "read it" after a story, now a beaver would peek out: "I was here."
If they were skeptical, they'd just drop a giant Beaver question mark.
If they agreed with a columnist, it was a huge OK Beaver; if not—NG Beaver.
Honestly, once the Little Beaver was running wild online, it had basically achieved cyber life.
From a modern lens, the nameless Little Beaver was already an IP. It was famous, easily recognizable, and ridiculously marketable.
That's why Robert Iger had asked Isabella earlier whether she had plans to develop it.
But Isabella wasn't in a rush.
First, she was buried in work.
Second, she was drowning in money she hadn't even spent yet.
Warner had just settled her first royalty payment for the MiniDisc and the second payout for The Voice movie. After two months of number crunching, she'd received $73.44 million from the former and $21.39 million from the latter.
The reason was simple.
The MiniDisc profits skyrocketed because after surviving the "Anti-Voice Alliance" attacks, her album sales exploded again—now over 10 million copies sold worldwide.
And the Voice movie royalties? The earlier report didn't even include VHS sales. Back then, she'd already earned $8 million just from the soundtrack, but once the tapes hit the market, her share soared past $20 million easily.
The movie's VHS was selling like mad.
Total revenue—over $100 million.
When the base number is that high, even a 5% cut makes you rich beyond reason.
So until she set up a proper tax shelter company, developing another IP wasn't an option.
You get it, right?
If your income has no expenses, you're basically just paying yourself to be taxed to death.
And buying too much real estate? That's just putting all your eggs in one basket.
That's also why she so generously invited all her HP castmates to North America for vacation.
She was earning faster than she could spend.
Even covering all their travel expenses barely scratched a day's income. The Voice TV show paid her daily dividends, and more massive payouts from the film and MiniDisc were still pending.
Yes—she hadn't even received the big checks yet.
Movie licensing fees and radio royalties were settled yearly, and by the looks of it, in two months she'd be seeing another eight-digit—or even low nine-digit—sum.
"Uh… I haven't really thought about making Beaver toys yet. I'm too busy," Isabella said. "But if you guys really like it, I can give you a few sets of badges."
She couldn't exactly tell them the whole truth, so she dodged.
Still, everyone lit up.
"Oh—Isabella—are those the same badges given out during The Voice auditions?" Neville asked, eyes wide.
"Yeah~" Isabella grinned.
"I've seen people online talking about them! Some folks in America are even collecting those," Daniel called from the bus window. "And the art style looks like the stuff Keisha used to draw in our group chat! So those badges were her work too?"
"Exactly," Isabella said, pulling her sister closer.
Keisha made a face. "Yes yes yes, all true. Every single one of those beaver badges was from the pile Isabella made me slave over while you guys were filming."
"Ha ha ha!"
Her bitterness sent the group into hysterics.
Then Daniel piped up, "Okay, so how many badges are in one box? Can I have ten?"
"Fifty-four—same number as a deck of cards," Isabella said. "Daniel, I can give you a hundred if you want, but why so many? Planning to resell them?"
The question drew everyone's eyes to him.
Daniel shrugged. "Same reason as Rupert. My mum wants to send me to school when we're not filming. So I thought, if I bring a bunch of your merch, I can give them to classmates so they'll like me. And if I can't get good grades, I'll check if my teachers have kids who like you—then I can give them your merch and hope they go easy on me."
Everyone blinked.
It took a moment for the logic to sink in.
Then Rupert's eyes lit up—like he'd found a soulmate.
"Oh—Daniel—your mum's sending you to school too?"
"Yes, she already picked one—City of London School."
"Oh—that's amazing—"
Daniel froze.
Amazing? Did this idiot think he was lucky?
Rupert quickly backtracked. "I mean—your idea is amazing! Using Isabella's merch to… um, blend in!"
"Because Isabella's popular," Daniel huffed, rolling his eyes. "And you're dumb."
"…."
Now Rupert was the one left speechless.
Their bickering made everyone burst into laughter—while the parents nearby exchanged helpless smiles.
Isabella would've let them keep at it, but airports aren't great places for endless chatter. She ushered everyone toward the cars, glancing around.
"Where's Chris?"
"Daniel said the director left right after filming," Ginny replied. "Something about a new project waiting for him."
That tracked. Columbus was a busy man.
Still, Isabella felt a bit miffed.
North America was her turf now!
Her subject had returned and hadn't even come to pay tribute?
How rude.
Anyway.
Though many had come for The Voice, most of the kids were just happy to escape school.
And Isabella knew exactly how to appeal to that chaos.
So, on the bus, holding a mic, she read out their schedule—and after each item, cheers erupted.
Nathan Bailey had drafted the plan for her:
Day 1: Just arrived—rest day. Explore L.A.
Day 2: Attend The Voice live recording.
Days 3–4: Stay at the studio if they want, or go anywhere—Universal Studios, Disneyland, whatever. Then? Maybe Catalina Island, San Diego Zoo, Big Bear Lake, beaches—
Well… not Bikini Bottom. Cross that one out.
Basically, they could stay until Christmas.
Because she wanted them there for The Voice finale—a full concert event held at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum, 90,000 seats.
She hoped they'd be there cheering.
"Isabella, are you serious?" Rupert's mom asked, struggling not to laugh. "You want us to stay until after Christmas?"
"Of course! I get lonely here. No friends," Isabella said, eyes wide and sincere.
At that, the parents couldn't help laughing. The kids roared, and the moms just sighed, shaking their heads.
"You kids are impossible…"
To Isabella, silence meant consent—so by afternoon, they were already off exploring Los Angeles.
Sure, their fame meant avoiding big crowds, but honestly?
Not having to study was the ultimate joy.
And the next day brought an even bigger thrill—because the Voice judges were legends.
Except maybe Sting, who wasn't quite as famous in Britain.
But the rest? Total icons.
So when the stars showed up—
"Oh my God—Sting! I've loved you for so long!"
"Mariah—Mariah—you're even prettier than your album covers!"
"Elton John! I adore Goodbye England's Rose! You're amazing!"
The parents rushed forward like teenagers, leaving their kids stunned.
Rupert blinked. "Why do I feel like my mum wanted to come here even more than I did?"
Daniel muttered, "I was thinking the same thing…"
Ginny sighed. "So the biggest fans here are our parents?"
Rupert groaned. "And they said we're the ones who only want to play?"
Watching their mothers fangirl like crazy, the poor kids realized the truth—they hadn't dragged their parents to America.
Their parents had used them as the excuse to come.
This really was… a full sweep — both the glory and the profit went straight to their "mama."
The sudden realization from the group made Isabella laugh until her stomach hurt.
After everyone was done fangirling, the second stage of The Voice officially began. That was the classic knockout round — two contestants going head-to-head until sixteen were left, four per team.
Compared to the calm of blind auditions, this stage was pure fireworks.
Because of that, during filming, the director often had to yell "cut" just to keep things under control.
But the off-camera interventions only happened after the performances — when the coaches started arguing.
So for the live audience, the contestants' performances still looked seamless and thrilling.
The smooth singing made the already-scheming parents feel their trip was well worth it. Meanwhile…
"Vivian."
During the show, Marcia Radcliffe — Daniel's mom — sat next to her old acquaintance, Vivian.
During a break, she said, "Actually, there's something I wanted to ask you."
"Oh, Marcia, just say it. No need to be polite," Vivian smiled.
"Well, it's like this. You know I'm with the BBC, so…"
Then she revealed BBC's wish: they wanted the rights to produce The Voice in the UK.
The corners of Vivian's mouth lifted even higher.
"Marcia, we will be selling the international rights. We just haven't started talks yet because we've been too busy."
"But since you asked, we'll give the UK license to the BBC."
"On your account."
"Really???" Marcia was stunned.
She hadn't expected things to go so smoothly.
In her mind, negotiations over The Voice should've been long and painful — it was too valuable, and too many companies wanted it.
Plus, she knew she wasn't close enough to Vivian to really influence her.
To put it bluntly — they were "potluck friends," held together only by Harry Potter connections.
So she didn't expect she could help the BBC at all.
But now—
"Oh come on, Marcia. Why would I lie about something like this?"
Vivian's grin widened at her friend's disbelief.
"As long as the BBC offers a reasonable price, why would we pick anyone else?"
"And even if the offer isn't ideal, we'll still talk to them — for your sake."
Since selling The Voice abroad was inevitable, deciding who to sell it to was something Isabella's team had already been considering.
And in the UK, their top choice was BBC.
Not just because BBC dwarfed ITV and basically was British television, but because Isabella needed a strong media ally.
The logic was simple —
If six months earlier The Voice had already existed, and BBC owned the UK rights, then the "Anti-Voice Alliance" would never have dared use the press against her.
Rupert Murdoch wouldn't have let The Times stir up trouble.
After all, the BBC had no qualms about slapping down Murdoch's News Corp.
"You, the exiled convict's descendants, want to block my London cash cow? Dream on."
Exactly.
An IP's value isn't just about how much money it makes.
Media empires can't rule the world — but if your partners are powerful enough, the world still ends up hearing one voice.
Since the Haywoods had already wanted to work with BBC, Marcia being a messenger was perfect.
That evening, after the day's shoot, everyone went out for dinner. When Isabella heard about the BBC deal, she smiled at Marcia.
"Aunt Marcia, actually we'd like to ask a favor too."
"Oh, Isabella, just say it, dear. No need to be polite."
Respect goes both ways.
Having been treated well by Vivian, Marcia responded in kind.
"Um… I wanted to know — does Daniel have an agency contract?"
"No, why? You want to sign him?"
"Oh no, no," Isabella waved her hands quickly. "In this business, being independent is really important. I just wanted to know — do you handle his jobs and endorsements yourselves?"
"Yes, we do. Why?" Marcia asked, puzzled.
Daniel looked confused too.
Their curiosity only made Isabella smile brighter. "Okay. In that case… next month, Disney has an event I'll be part of. Would Daniel like to attend?"
November 1st, 2003 — The Voice Season 1, Episode 7 aired.
Maybe because it was the Halloween weekend, or maybe because of the teased "Battle Rounds," ratings skyrocketed past 45 million, peaking close to 49 million.
November 8th, Episode 8 aired.
Numbers dipped a little but stayed above 45 million.
Then on November 15th and 22nd — Episodes 9 and 10 — ratings held steady.
On the surface, The Voice seemed to have plateaued.
But in truth…
Since the invention of television, only one show in the U.S. had ever consistently stayed above 45 million viewers — the NFL.
Yes, football.
Not even the Oscars could maintain that.
So The Voice was pure madness.
Forty-five million viewers meant over 25% of America was watching.
That's basically the upper limit of what young audiences can do.
Then came November 29th—
Episode 11, the Top 16 round. From the start, it hit 48 million.
At Nielsen's monitoring center, a staffer sighed,
"This show is insane. You think it'll break 50?"
"Maybe. It's Thanksgiving break, everyone's home, and they teased a mystery guest. The Voice has never disappointed, so people are hyped."
By then, Nielsen used computer tracking, collecting data from towers across major cities and sending it to New York in real time.
Much easier than the old days of phone surveys and hand-drawn charts.
Now, just click 'Print.'
Which meant staff could multitask — half-watching TV, half-monitoring data.
Like now — the Voice feed played quietly while they chatted on Yahoo…
Then—
"Ohhhh! Harry Potter! Harry Potter!"
"Wowwww! Ron Weasley! Ron Weasley!"
They froze.
Turning to the TV—
There they were. The Hogwarts kids.
"Oh, sh*t! Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco… they're the mystery guests?!"
The staffers jumped up.
Two seconds later, they looked back — the Nielsen graph spiked past 50.
They laughed helplessly.
Not surprised by the boost though — Sorcerer's Stone was the second-highest-grossing film ever.
Soon, Harry Potter would probably become the second billion-dollar movie in history.
So of course, their cast showing up on any show would nuke the charts.
So yeah, The Voice broke 50 million. Big deal.
After all, they'd just dropped a nuke.
What mattered wasn't the number — but why they were there.
Onscreen, Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson asked the kids, "So, what brings you all to The Voice?"
Daniel said, "Uh… we came because The Voice has been incredible."
Rupert chimed in, "Yeah, it's so huge that even in the UK we hear about it every day."
Tom said, "Exactly. Rupert contacted Isabella and said he wanted to come to America and witness history. Then Isabella arranged everything. Though, honestly, Rupert just didn't want to go to school."
Rupert's face twisted. "Hey! Tom! What are you talking about? I love school!"
"Hahahaha—"
Viewers at home burst into laughter.
"Oh my god! Ron skipped school to come to America? Legendary!"
"Honestly, the kid's got guts — just not the grades."
"Wait… don't they all sound like they don't want to study?"
"Totally! They just made Ron take the fall because everyone already knows he hates homework! These kids are hilarious!"
As the audience cracked up, The Rock jumped in to calm things down.
"Okay, okay, school talk later. So you're here for The Voice?"
"Uh… sort of?" said Bonnie.
"Sort of? What do you mean?" he asked, feigning curiosity.
"I promise, Isabella's not backstage. I sent her away so we could get the real story," he teased.
The viewers laughed again, eager to hear the kids spill secrets.
But Neville said, "Oh, that's because besides visiting The Voice, Isabella planned lots of stuff for us — Disneyland, Universal Studios, Catalina Island, Big Bear skiing… oh right! She also invited us to the premiere of her new movie next month."
Then he paused, blinked, and turned to the others. "Uh, what was that movie called again?"
They all pointed at The Rock. "Isn't it The Game Plan?"
"…"
Silence.
And then, collective eye-rolls.
"OMG — it was a promo all along!"
"They really got us! I was actually listening!"
"Man, that's such an Isabella move. That ad drop was just as clumsy as her old skits. No wonder she didn't show up — she knew it was gonna be awkward!"
Yep. Isabella's "event" was the premiere of The Game Plan.
Release date: December 12, 2003.