What Do I Really Want?

After a bout of turbulence, the plane finally steadied. Sitting in her seat, Kate rubbed her temples and let out a sigh of relief. That had been quite a thrill—racing through the city in a taxi and making it to the gate at the last possible minute. It felt like something out of a movie, happening right in front of her, and it was, in its way, a bit exhilarating.

At that moment, a flight attendant approached to ask if they wanted any drinks. Kate shook her head, indicating she didn't need anything, then turned to ask Catherine if she wanted something. But when she looked over, she found the little girl resting her chin on her hand, staring out at the clouds with a faraway expression.

"Hey, Cathy, are you okay?" Kate asked with concern.

"Huh? Oh, no, I'm fine," Catherine replied, a bit absentmindedly.

"Would you like something to drink?" Kate asked again.

It was only then that Catherine noticed the flight attendant standing in the aisle. She sighed and said, "Just a glass of water, please."

After taking a sip from the glass the attendant handed her, Catherine placed it on the small tray in front of her and continued to stare out the window, even though the sky had begun to darken.

Kate could tell that something was on Catherine's mind. Was it because of Joanne Rowling? She wanted to ask, but the thought of last night made her hesitate. If Catherine was thinking about that… But Kate ultimately patted the little girl's shoulder and said, "Cathy, if something's bothering you, you can talk to me."

Catherine turned to look at Kate. "Is it that obvious?"

"Of course, darling, it's written all over your face." Kate smiled, brushing a lock of hair from Catherine's forehead, though she withdrew her hand halfway, seemingly without realizing it.

However, Catherine didn't seem to notice. She continued, "Meeting Ms. Rowling made me think about a lot of things—things I hadn't thought about before or had been avoiding."

"And what are those things?" Kate felt a quiet relief but also a faint sense of disappointment. How odd.

"You know, Kate, there are so many things I've never really thought through or taken seriously. Making movies, writing scripts, recording an EP—it's all been for fun or some other reason. The only time I've seriously invested myself in anything was when I was little and loved music and painting. But everything else I've done since then, I've done half-heartedly," Catherine said softly, staring up at the cabin ceiling.

"Oh my God, what on earth is going through that little head of yours," Kate said with a laugh. "You're only 11 years old. Isn't this the time for you to play? Besides, you did really well in"The Parent Trap." At least my classmates couldn't stop praising your acting. And your singing is great too. That EP sold well in the UK. Talented little girls like you are rare—honestly, I'm very jealous."

"But Kate, the only reason I took acting seriously is because I signed a contract with the studio. I had a responsibility to do well. But I've never truly known what I want to do, what I'm passionate about, like Ms. Rowling, who has a deep, burning desire to write," Catherine said, a touch of melancholy in her voice.

"Cathy, you know, you're only 11. Your life is just beginning. You have plenty of time to figure out what you really want to do. You don't have to worry about it now. You're still young!" Kate frowned slightly, not understanding why Catherine was thinking so deeply about these things.

The little girl mumbled something about already being an adult, then shook her head and changed the subject. "Alright, Kate, let's drop this, okay?"

"Are you sure?" Kate asked, staring at her. After a moment, she sighed. "Okay, but I think you should talk to your father about this."

"I will," Catherine nodded, then leaned forward to hug Kate, burying her head in her chest. "Anyway, thank you, Kate."

Kate smiled, gently stroking Catherine's hair and kissing her forehead. "Sweetheart, it's what I should do. I'm your sister, aren't I?"

Catherine lifted her head, her bright green eyes gazing at Kate. Suddenly, she said, "Kate, how about going to Hollywood?"

"Go to Hollywood? Why?" Kate asked, puzzled.

"You love making movies, don't you? Hollywood is going to be the biggest film production center in the world. There will be countless opportunities there. And most importantly, I'll be there. If you come, I could even write scripts for you," Catherine said, a hint of temptation in her voice.

"I don't have your talent for acting," Kate teased.

"Oh, stop talking about me," the little girl pouted. "Acting is something you can hone over time. And even if you're in America, you can still do theater on Broadway."

"But Cathy, I'm still in school. You don't want me to get kicked out of Cambridge for not having enough credits, do you?" Kate asked, not noticing how tightly Catherine was holding onto her.

"Well… you could come over during the summer. University holidays should be longer, and missing a couple of classes wouldn't be a big deal," Catherine pleaded. "Please come to Los Angeles to see me this summer!"

"Alright, alright, I'll come," Kate finally agreed, unable to refuse her.

"I love you, Kate." Overjoyed, Catherine gave her a big kiss on the cheek.

******************************

It was a rare, clear night on the British Isles. The bright moonlight shone even more brightly against the dim lights of the Flynn mansion. After getting out of the taxi, Catherine couldn't help but look up at the sky and take a deep breath.

"Did you have fun?" Mr. Gerard asked with a smile, taking the little girl's backpack from Kate.

"It was nice. I liked it there," Catherine replied with a smile as she grabbed her backpack and turned to Kate. "Are you heading back to London, Kate?"

"Of course, darling, I'm not staying the night," Kate replied, leaning against the car door with a shrug.

"Alright, safe travels." The little girl stepped forward to give her a hug. "Remember our promise. I'll be waiting for you. And don't forget to let your hair grow longer."

"I know!" Kate laughed, nudging her forehead. She then kissed Catherine on the forehead. "I'm off."

With that, she climbed into the taxi and waved as she drove away. Catherine watched the taxi disappear into the distance before turning back to Mr. Gerard with an apologetic smile. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"No need to apologize. Let's head inside," Mr. Gerard said kindly.

Walking across the lawn, Catherine was somewhat absent-minded. She found herself returning to the question that had surfaced during the flight: What do I really want to do? Could it be that forty years of life hadn't made that clear to her? Or had those eight years as a recluse and these eleven years as a girl somehow caused her to regress? The little girl smiled wryly, touched her forehead, and sighed.

"Is something troubling you?" Mr. Gerard, walking beside her, suddenly asked.

"A little, but it's nothing serious. Thank you, no need to worry about me," Catherine replied with a smile. There were some things she could never say out loud. Even if she did, no one would believe her. For people in the West, who rely on logic and science to explain everything, the only explanation for such things would be delusions or schizophrenia. So, if she didn't want to spend the rest of her life in a mental hospital, it was best to keep those thoughts to herself.

But then again, it's rather pathetic to be pushing fifty and still not have a clear life goal, isn't it? Catherine wrinkled her small nose in self-mockery and shifted her thoughts to Rowling. She decided not to interfere with Rowling's writing, even though she was eager to see a different Harry Potter from the one in her previous life. Who knew if the altered version would sell as well? For Rowling's sake, it was better to leave it as is. Of course, she could offer some financial support and help with publishing, but if Harry Potter was published too early, would it affect the casting choices for the eventual film adaptation? The main characters should have already been born by now, right? Hopefully, her butterfly wings hadn't flapped them out of existence—especially not Miss "Hermione."

Lost in these scattered thoughts, Catherine walked into the manor. Her family was gathered in the hall, chatting. When they saw her come in, Susan was the first to stand up and scoop her into a hug, a little excitedly. "Oh, Catherine, you're finally back!"

"Alright, Mom, I'm back. See, I'm in one piece. I told you nothing would happen," Catherine reassured her. Perhaps it was because she was nearly fifty, but being lifted in front of so many relatives made her feel a bit embarrassed.

Susan didn't notice her daughter's discomfort but quickly set her down. The little girl then greeted her father, grandfather, uncle, and aunt in turn, until she noticed the couple on the sofa.

"Mr. Watson, Mrs. Watson," Catherine exclaimed in surprise.

"Hi, Cathy," the couple on the sofa greeted her warmly.

"What a surprise! Are you back from France on vacation?" Catherine asked while her eyes had already landed on the one-year-old baby girl in Mrs. Watson's arms, who was blowing bubbles.

The couple exchanged a smile before Mrs. Watson lifted the baby girl. Facing the little girl, Catherine clapped her hands and smiled brightly at the baby. "Hi, Charlotte, do you remember me?"

The baby girl, who had been chewing on her little hand, widened her eyes at Catherine and suddenly began to babble excitedly, reaching out to grab her.

"Wow, Cathy, it seems Charlotte still remembers you," Mrs. Watson remarked in surprise.

"So, can I…?" Catherine asked hopefully, looking at her.

Mrs. Watson smiled and immediately handed Charlotte to her. Catherine carefully took the baby in her arms and exclaimed, "Oh my gosh, she's gotten so much heavier!"

The childish remark made everyone burst out laughing. Catherine blushed slightly, then planted a loud kiss on Charlotte's chubby little cheek. Charlotte seemed just as delighted, flailing her arms and legs in Catherine's arms and even trying to grab her face, which elicited more chuckles from the group.

Suddenly, something crossed Catherine's mind, and she looked up at Mrs. Watson. "Does Charlotte have an official name yet?"

"Of course," Mrs. Watson nodded. "After discussing it with Chris, we decided to name her—Emma."

"Emma?"

"Yes, Emma Charlotte Watson. E-m-m-a C-h-a-r-l-o-t-t-e W-a-t-s-o-n," Mrs. Watson spelled out.

"Good name." Catherine had just praised the name when she froze completely. Emma… Emma Watson? This has to be a joke, right? I was just talking to Rowling this afternoon!

At that moment, a wet sensation came from her ear. At some point, the baby had wrapped her arms around Catherine's neck and was now gnawing on her ear.

"Hey, hey, Emma, that's not very hygienic," Catherine said, startled as she tilted her head to one side. The excited little girl clapped her hands and giggled.

Catherine looked at the baby in her arms with a mixture of helplessness and frustration. Could it really be you, Miss Granger?