Ch-65

With tensions at an all-time high, I was on the edge of my seat when Mum took my hand and squeezed gently. I turned to her in amazement because the camera was on me along with all the nominees, thus I had a smile fixed on my face, but she understood with a mere look what I was feeling deep down. 'It's okay,' she mouthed and I was back to being my normal self instantly.

I grinned at her and squeezed her hand back before turning to the stage where Hilary Swank had opened the envelope by now.

"And then the Oscar goes to… Ed Harris for [Pollock]."

What? What the fuck!? I stood up and clapped for Ed Harris with a huge grin and hooted in delight. Despite my deceptive persona, I had not seen this coming at all. Heck, I would be less surprised had I won. As far as I knew, it was a two-way race between Tom Hanks and Russell Crowe. Javier Bardem would be a close third, but Ed Harris? Don't get me wrong, he's a great actor, but who has even seen [Pollock]?

Yet, I could also see why people would vote for Ed Harris. Had Russell Crowe not shouted at the producer of the BAFTAs, he would have this award in the bag. Similarly, Tom Hanks and my chances diminished a little because of our past wins. Of the remaining two, Ed Harris was a senior actor who had three nominations in the last five years, and he had given wonderful performances each time. He is also a very soft-spoken and gentle person from that one time I talked to him at one of the Oscar campaign events in January. Now that I think about it, had I not been in the running, even I may have voted for him, although I had never seen [Pollock] personally in either of my lives.

Nah, I would still vote for Hanks.

"Troy!" Chris Columbus' sharp tone shook me out of my daydream. "Do you understand this scene?"

And just like that, I was brought back to reality. I just realized that things were back to being how they were a few days ago. The award season was finally behind me, and I was back on the set of [Harry Potter].

"Can you explain it once more?" I asked sheepishly.

Chris explained the scene again without getting angry at my lack of attentiveness. He was the best person we had on the set for the film.

I took my position along with all my co-stars, and it was an ensemble scene today, so we had a lot of them, including Emma, Jamie, Michael Gambon, Alan Rickman, Maggie Smith, Miriam Margolyes, Kenneth Branagh, and a few more.

"Action!" Chris called out, and the scene began.

"It's not true, sir, I swear! I never touched Mrs. Norris," I pleaded with Dumbledore.

"Lies!" said David Bradley, who played Filch, as he threateningly took a few steps in my direction.

I stepped back to stay out of his reach.

"If I may, Headmaster?" Alan Rickman whispered in a silkily soft voice. Damn. What wouldn't I give to have a voice like that? "Perhaps Potter and his friends were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Emma, Jamie, and I shared confused expressions that our most hated professor was siding with us.

"However," Alan continued undeterred as he moved forward towards us, "the circumstances are suspicious. I, for one, don't recall seeing Potter at dinner."

"I'm afraid that's my doing, Severus," Kenneth Branagh as Gilderoy Lockhart said, making Alan turn to him sharply. "See, Harry was helping me answer my fan mail."

"That's why Ron and I went looking for him, Professor," Emma said. "We just found him when he said…" She looked at me hesitantly, not willing to betray my trust so easily.

"Yes?" Alan prodded. "What did he say, Ms. Granger?"

"That I'm not hungry," I said, with Jamie nodding resolutely beside me. "We were heading back to the common room when we found Mrs. Norris."

Alan Rickman turned to Michael Gambon when he said, "Innocent until proven guilty, Severus." Then he turned to the three of us, "You may go."

Without waiting for any other teacher to say anything else, the three of us turned around in unison and rushed out of the corridor when Emma turned to me suddenly.

"Isn't it a bit strange," she asked, "that you hear a voice that only you can hear, and then Mrs. Norris ends up petrified."

"Do you think I should have told them?" I asked my two friends. "Dumbledore and the others?"

"No, Harry," Jamie rebutted quickly. "Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world."

I thought back to what Jamie said, before looking up at him doubtfully, "You do believe me, don't you?"

"Of course I do," he was quick to reassure me. "But Hermione's right. It's a little weird."

"Cut!" Chris' voice rang out on the set. "Terrific job, kids. Let me check the scene. Most likely it's good."

"Argh! Finally," Emma groaned in relief as she leaned against my side. "I thought we would never be done with this scene."

I wrapped a hand around her shoulders casually. "Didn't know you could be so dramatic as well, Emma. I thought that was Jamie's department."

"Hey!" Jamie protested. "I'm not dramatic. If anything, it should be you, Troy. You can't even fart without making international news."

"That's not being dramatic," Emma pointed out helpfully. "That's being popular, which we aren't. At least not as much as Troy."

I like to think of myself as humble, but what Emma had said wasn't entirely false.

"You'll be much more popular than me when you grow up," I reassured Emma. "You're so beautiful, you'll only grow up to be a better version of yourself." That was a fact. A grown-up Emma was one of the most beautiful actresses of all time.

"Stop saying stupid things," Emma pushed my hands away from her. "I'm not beautiful."

"If you're not beautiful, then I'm not a boy," I said before turning to Jamie. "Back me up on this, bro."

Before Jamie could say anything, we were interrupted.

"Kids," Chris called out. "The shot is good and now you're done for the day. Troy, can we talk in private for a bit before you go home?"

"Sure," I said while Jamie and Emma made their way to their respective trailers to change out of their costumes. I followed Chris to a corner when he asked, "Has your father talked to you? About the third film, I mean."

I nodded uncomfortably, "Yeah. He said that the pre-production is halted until after the second film is a hit."

"So he didn't tell you?" Chris had a look of realization on his face as he shook his head. "Doesn't matter, I'll tell you now. I won't come back for the third film. And don't worry, I know it will be a big hit and the third will be made at all costs."

That news didn't surprise me as much as Chris was probably hoping it would because I knew this would happen. I didn't like it, but I couldn't do anything about it either. But it would seem weird if I didn't even try to convince him to stay.

"Why?" I asked. "Did you have a disagreement with Warner or something?"

"Or something," Chris smiled as he said that. "I have been staying so far away from home that I think my kids will grow up without me. I know money is good, but you can have only so much money before it becomes meaningless. I was already planning to retire from directing when I have enough money to retire peacefully, and thanks to [Harry Potter], now I can. You probably won't understand my reasons because you don't have kids, but given how you recommended me for this job, I thought it would be prudent to tell you personally my reasons for leaving it behind."

"I appreciate it," I said honestly. "I won't lie to you. I don't understand your reasons. You could move your family to London for the next 5-6 years to finish the film series and go back home to them daily. But I know that you must have already given the idea some thought, so I won't insist on that."

"I have thought about that," Chris agreed. "But my family doesn't want to move."

I nodded in understanding, "It would really suck without you. Man, I can't even imagine someone else as a director for these films."

"Hold your horses," Chris elbowed me playfully. "We still have a month of shooting before we wrap this up. You have your A-levels after that, right?"

"Yes," I agreed. "Then I'll begin practice for [Billy Elliot: The Musical]. The script and the songs are almost complete."

Chris nodded with a grin, "Reserve a seat for me in advance. I'll be there to see your first show."

I grinned back, "Do you even have to ask? Of course, I will."

As I made my way back to my trailer after bidding him farewell, I couldn't help but feel sad at the thought of Chris Columbus leaving the franchise. Before we began shooting, I was most excited to work with Alfonso Cuaron for obvious reasons. But now, not so much. Chris infused his own magic into the first two films, and the rest of the films lost some of that magic. Technically, visually, they were masterpieces, but the childhood innocence of the first two films was difficult for any other movie to replicate.

(Break)

I was surprised one fine Sunday when Dad and Mum called me from my room. Sundays were mostly for my studies because my exams were approaching soon, and my parents didn't disturb me unless it was very important. I was surprised to see that a handsomely dressed man in his thirties was sitting on our couch.

"Troy," Mum said, "Meet Alwyn Johnson, the head of your PR team. Al, you already know Troy."

"Hi," I greeted him politely, despite having apprehensions about the man. This fucking PR team had done nothing but ruin my image. Had it not been for my own efforts, I might as well have kissed my career goodbye. After I had dealt with the damage done by Carla and the media, I had asked my parents to fire my current PR team and hire someone else to do the job. It was strange that the man was here to talk to me when I hadn't so much as met him even once.

Probably sensing my discomfort, Alwyn gave me a small smile. "Let me begin by saying that I'm very sorry for how we handled the whole situation. I can give you a million excuses why we couldn't mitigate the damage done to your image, but that doesn't solve the problem of what has happened already. So please accept my sincere apology."

I nodded once, not trusting myself to say something scathing to him at that moment.

"While there were many reasons for that blunder," Alwyn continued undeterred, "the biggest reason why we were unable to counter the media was because someone was actively working against you."

I frowned in contemplation. I hadn't really made any enemies in the industry as far as I recall. Why would anyone go so far as to target a kid specifically?

"Who?" I asked.

"Someone who didn't want you to win a second Oscar," Alwyn pointed out helpfully.

"That narrows the suspects down to four," I noted about my four fellow nominees while looking at my parents, who were silent as I talked to Alwyn. They must have already had this talk before I was called in.

"Good guess," Alwyn nodded. "I hired a private detective to get to the bottom of the issue, and what he found is a little worrying. Someone paid Gordon Crohn, Carla Armitage's lawyer, to approach her and get the ball rolling. They also bribed the journalists who were your most vocal critics. The money trail was difficult to follow, and some less-than-legal routes may have been employed to get this information, but all that evidence points to Bright Star PR agency. The same agency that has been employed by Russell Crowe for the last three years."

"Are you sure about this?" I asked seriously.

"Yes," he nodded resolutely. "None of the other three nominees have ever employed the same agency."

I sat there in silence, taking in all that info. I felt as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped on me in the middle of January. But soon that numbness turned to rage. That fucking asshole! He made me suffer for so many days, all for a fucking trophy? I'll ruin him.

"I want to sue him," I said as soon as I had made that decision.

"We can't," Dad said for the first time since the meeting began. "We don't have any legal proof whether he or his agency were really behind it. We don't even know for sure if it was he who told his team to target us, if it was his manager, or even if the PR team did it on their own. The information is only for you to know what happened behind the scenes for the matter to escalate this much."

I rubbed my forehead in frustration. "Then why tell me at all? Why not let me remain blissfully unaware of the matter entirely?"

"Because you wanted to change your PR team," Mum said. "We didn't think it was necessary given the circumstances, but we also knew that you wouldn't let this issue go unless we gave you concrete reasons. So here you go. Do you still want to change your PR?"

I closed my eyes in frustration, feeling utterly hopeless. Would this happen every time I got a major award nomination? This was beyond fucked up. When the reporters who had spoken out against me had all issued their apologies within a few days after the Oscars, I hadn't thought much of it, but now I realized that it was all done to make people forget about my film and focus more on my personal life.

The irony that Russell Crowe lost the award to Ed Harris wasn't lost on me. The asshole deserved it.

"Fine, you can continue working with us," I said to Alwyn, who smiled at me. Then I turned to my parents and announced, "Though, I will never work with Russell Crowe in my life. And someday, maybe years later, when he least expects it, I will have my vengeance."

I ignored how my parents shared a glance between themselves, or how Alwyn gulped nervously at my declaration.

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