Dreams of Stardom (Hollywood SI)

AN: This chapter mostly contains the reaction to the Half Blood Prince. You can skip it if it's not up to your liking.

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"What's so special about this film that sets it apart from others in the series?"

"The stakes are higher than ever," Troy Armitage replied in a serious tone. "The best part about the film is the absence of the Dark Lord Voldemort's direct presence, yet his influence is felt throughout. This is arguably the darkest chapter in the series—no character is truly safe."

The reporter gave him a thoughtful look. "As book readers, I think most of us know what's going to happen to whom, especially with Snape—"

"Ah ah," Troy cut in. "We don't want to spoil things for the non-book readers, do we?"

The reporter raised her hands in mock surrender before turning to the camera. "No spoilers for you, folks. Go and watch the movie—just like I will in a few hours—with Troy Armitage and the entire cast and crew of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, here at Leicester Square in London. We're streaming the red carpet live on YouTube, so all the Potterheads can join in on the moment with their favorite stars."

Austin paused the video on his new iPhone and moved silently forward in the line at the ticket counter. The frustrating part was that the line wasn't for buying tickets—he'd already done that over the phone when the advance window opened. No, this line was just to collect the tickets. Maybe that's why it was moving so fast.

A few minutes later, he finally reached the front.

"Let me guess," the man at the counter joked, "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince?"

Austin smiled. "As if it could be anything else right now."

The man nodded knowingly as Austin handed over his payment details. Moments later, Austin held two tickets, which he brought back to Marissa, who had been waiting impatiently.

"There you are! Why couldn't you have picked them up earlier? Now we'll miss the good seats."

"Why couldn't we just go next week?" Austin shot back.

"Because I've always wanted to see a Thursday night preview. Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this movie? Half-Blood Prince is my favorite book in the series—more than The Deathly Hallows. Of course I'd want to see it before everyone else."

Austin shrugged. "They already saw it at the premiere last week in London."

"I meant here in America," she deadpanned. "Let's not argue. We're already late."

She spun around and walked toward the entrance like she owned the place, forgetting that Austin still had the tickets.

He followed her dutifully. Normally, her attitude would've annoyed him a little, but he knew how much of a Potterhead, and a Trojan soldier, she was. He let it slide this time.

Within minutes, they were seated beside each other in the theater, and the movie began.

"See? I told you we were cutting it close," Marissa whispered, but didn't say more once the film started.

The opening scene was as chilly as it was thrilling. A group of flying wizards soared over London before launching coordinated attacks across the city, starting with Diagon Alley. They kidnapped several people, leaving behind a trail of destruction. The once-bustling Ollivanders Wand Shop and Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour stood eerily abandoned.

Cut to Bill Nighy as Rufus Scrimgeour, addressing the Muggle Prime Minister about the growing turmoil in the wizarding world. He explained that he had succeeded Cornelius Fudge as Minister for Magic following the rise of Lord Voldemort.

As they spoke, the Death Eaters struck again—this time, tearing down a bridge visible on a TV screen inside the Prime Minister's office. The PM was visibly furious, but Scrimgeour remained composed, assuring him the situation was under control and promising increased protection for Muggle leadership.

The scene then shifted to Harry Potter, played by Troy Armitage, tossing and turning in restless sleep. Haunted by the recent death of his godfather, Sirius Black, he relived the trauma in fragmented flashbacks: Sirius falling through the veil, Bellatrix's mocking laughter, Harry's failed attempt at casting the Cruciatus Curse, and his brief possession by Voldemort.

He jolted awake, only to be met by his aunt's scolding about chores and laziness. Ignoring her, Harry glanced out the window—just in time to see the streetlamp flicker and dim, its light sucked into a strange device held by Dumbledore.

Harry's eyes widened as Dumbledore calmly crossed the street. Without a word to his aunt, Harry rushed downstairs to open the door. His aunt followed, only to go pale when she saw who was standing on their doorstep.

"Ah, Petunia," Dumbledore greeted politely, before turning to face the males barreling toward him. "And you must be Vernon and Dudley Dursley. Albus Dumbledore. We have a few things to discuss."

With a flick of his uniquely ridged wand, a sofa zoomed in and swept the Dursleys off their feet, seating them involuntarily before returning to its place. Harry watched in stunned silence, while Dumbledore gave him a conspiratorial wink. 

The audience clapped and laughed at the Dursleys' helplessness.

Dumbledore then explained Sirius Black's will: Harry was now the sole heir to his godfather's assets—including 12 Grimmauld Place, his vault at Gringotts, and his house-elf, Kreacher.

The next scene took viewers to Snape's home, where Narcissa Malfoy arrived with Bellatrix Lestrange. On her knees, Narcissa pleaded with Severus to help Draco carry out a dangerous task assigned by the Dark Lord. Though clearly hesitant, Snape eventually agreed, sealing the promise with an Unbreakable Vow, with Bellatrix performing the binding spell.

Dumbledore then took Harry to the home of an old Hogwarts professor, Horace Slughorn, who had staged an elaborate deception to make it appear he'd been killed in a Death Eater raid. Dumbledore, however, saw through the ruse and found him alive and well. Intrigued by the chance to mentor the Boy Who Lived, Slughorn agreed to return as a professor at Hogwarts.

Harry was then dropped off at the Burrow, where he had a heartwarming reunion with Hermione, Ron, and, surprisingly, Ginny.

Austin leaned over to Marissa. "Isn't she the one he ends up with?"

"Yes," she whispered back. "That's one part of the story I'm most excited about."

Austin nodded quietly as the film continued.

The teenage wizards visited Diagon Alley, now visibly diminished by fear and chaos. Amidst the gloom, Fred and George had opened a joke shop using the prize money Harry had gifted them after the Triwizard Tournament. The shop was wildly whimsical—flying magical gadgets and vibrant colors brought a spark of joy in otherwise grim times.

But Harry couldn't enjoy any of it. Accompanied by Ron and Hermione, he stepped outside to observe the nearly deserted street, the state of the alley underscoring the growing threat. They soon noticed Draco Malfoy slipping into Borgin and Burke's, acting suspiciously.

Harry immediately voiced his belief that Draco had become a Death Eater, but Ron and Hermione were skeptical.

Back on the train, while Ron and Hermione were busy with prefect duties, Slughorn invited Harry to join his exclusive "Slug Club," a gathering of promising students from various houses. On his way back to his compartment, Harry spotted Draco again and decided to follow him. Though he didn't overhear anything conclusive, Draco noticed him and ambushed him. Harry was left petrified and with a broken nose under the invisibility cloak, until Luna Lovegood came to his rescue.

"Damn, the security is tight af," Marissa remarked, noting how Aurors patrolled the station and even inspected student belongings.

After a long-winded speech from Dumbledore, it was time for classes, starting with Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Severus Snape intoned in his trademark silken voice, "must be as inventive and flexible as the arts you seek to undo." With a swish of his wand, a floating 3D image of a woman screaming materialized. "For instance, the Cruciatus Curse." Another flick, and the woman was replaced by a motionless wizard with a vacant stare. "A dementor's kiss." One more swish conjured the image of a zombified figure. "Or the Inferius."

"What's the Inferius, sir?" Parvati Patil asked, hand raised.

Snape gave her a withering glare, but answered anyway. "The dead—cursed to return from the realm of death after their passing. Something you should've studied for your OWLs. Clearly, I was wrong to expect so much."

Parvati lowered her head in embarrassment.

"Potter!" Snape barked. "What would be the best way to defeat the Inferius?"

Harry looked the dour man in the eye and said defiantly, "I would think a cutting curse like Diffindo should do the trick."

"You would think," Snape repeated, enunciating each word with disdain. "Then you would be wrong. A dark, necromantic creation like the Inferius won't even flinch at a standard spell like Diffindo. You'd need a curse just as dark—or better yet, fire. Fire is undoubtedly the most effective weapon. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Harry replied.

"Yes, sir."

"There's no need to call me 'sir', Professor," Harry snarked.

The entire movie theater erupted with laughter, applause, and whistles, while Harry's classmates onscreen tried—and failed—to suppress their amusement.

"Detention, Potter!"

The next class was Potions with Professor Slughorn. Neither Harry nor Ron had brought their textbooks, so Slughorn allowed them to borrow spare copies from a cupboard. A small scuffle broke out as the boys fought over who would get the book in better condition. Ron won, leaving Harry with a battered old copy inscribed: This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince.

Not ominous at all, considering the film's title.

The following scene was one of Austin's favorites. Using the scribbled notes in the Prince's book, Harry expertly brewed the Draught of Living Death, outperforming the entire class and earning a prize: a small vial of Felix Felicis—Liquid Luck.

One quiet evening, Dumbledore called Harry into his office to show him a memory in the Pensieve. And what a memory it was.

A Ministry official named Bob Ogden arrived at the home of the Gaunt family to investigate a complaint. The setting was grim—an old, run-down shack, housing a father, his son, and a daughter.

Austin, unfamiliar with the books, was a little confused. Who are these people? He wondered. But he stayed engaged.

The patriarch raged at his daughter, berating her while she knelt on the ground.

"That's it, grub on the floor like some filthy Muggle. What's your wand for, you useless sack of muck?" he barked. "Of course you can't do that. You're a filthy Squib. A disgrace to the blood of Slytherin."

Dumbledore turned to Harry. "That, Harry, is Merope Gaunt, mother of Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Harry's eyes widened in stunned realization.

The next memory followed swiftly, this time through the eyes of a Muggle servant, spying from a hidden alcove.

"You bewitched me! This is sorcery. I would never love someone as ugly as you—with family as vile," a man shouted at an older Merope.

"But," she whispered, resting a hand on her belly, "you will become a father soon."

"That demon spawn is no child of mine!" he snarled. "Get out of my sight, you witch—before I have you burned at the stake!"

The scene dissolved into a third memory—this one from a young Dumbledore's perspective. He was visiting an orphanage to meet a peculiar boy who had been invited to Hogwarts.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Even as a child, he was cold, calculating… dangerous.

"I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me," young Tom said matter-of-factly.

Dumbledore admonished him for stealing, but it was clear: the boy wasn't remorseful. He was strategic, cunning—already wearing a mask.

As Dumbledore left the young Tom Riddle behind, the memory dissolved in the swirling silver of the Pensieve. Harry stumbled a step backward, overwhelmed by what he had seen—the generational rot and tragedy that had taken root even before Tom Riddle Jr. was born. Dumbledore caught his shoulder, steadying him with a quiet, knowing look.

They ended the session soon after, the headmaster giving Harry a directive as he opened the door to leave. 

"Get close to Professor Slughorn."

Quidditch tryouts came next. As the newly appointed captain, Harry remained impartial, making everyone try out for their position, including Ron and Ginny. Ron was visibly nervous, but Harry's gaze, more often than not, drifted toward Ginny.

Hermione, noticing Ron's floundering confidence, discreetly cast a Confundus Charm on Cormac McLaggen. With McLaggen thrown off, Ron managed to save the most goals and earned the keeper position.

Back in the common room, Ron celebrated his victory, basking in praise. But Harry wasn't paying attention, his eyes were locked on Ginny, who sat close to Dean Thomas, whispering something and giggling.

"Seriously, is Ginny dense?" Marissa muttered under her breath. "If a boy as good-looking as Troy looked at me like that…"

"You'd do what?" Austin asked, his voice low, with just the slightest edge.

"I'd tell him I was taken, and he should move on," she said hastily. "No point stringing him along."

Austin didn't buy it for a second. But he let it go. For now.

During the next Hogsmeade weekend, the trio visited the Three Broomsticks and ran into Slughorn, who cheerfully invited Harry and Hermione to a little party he was hosting. Outside, Harry noticed Draco slipping away, acting suspiciously, but brushed it off.

Then, chaos struck.

Katie Bell screamed and levitated into the air, contorting as if possessed—her fingers locked in a death grip around a necklace. She crashed to the ground with a terrifying shriek.

Later, in McGonagall's office, Harry was certain.

"It was Draco Malfoy," he insisted. "I just know."

"You just know?" Snape arched an eyebrow, his voice steeped in disdain, before tearing into Harry with cutting words.

As McGonagall dismissed them, Ron and Hermione left the room, but Harry lingered, glaring daggers at Snape. His lips moved inaudibly, but the look said enough.

Snape took a step forward, ready to pounce, but Harry spun around and left.

"Did Harry just call Snape an asshole to his face?" Austin asked, leaning forward in disbelief.

"Oh, definitely," Marissa replied with a grin. "I'm surprised they let that make the final cut."

Later, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny attended Slughorn's dinner party. Before he could go in, Harry found Ginny alone outside.

"You look beautiful tonight, Gin," he said quietly.

Ginny glanced down at her shoes. "At least you think so. Dean didn't even notice."

"Then he's a prat," Harry said without hesitation.

He offered her his arm, and together they walked inside.

Throughout dinner, they barely spoke, but the tension simmered. Sitting on the opposite sides of the table, they stole glances, each one lingering a little too long. Neither of them made a move. Ginny was still with Dean. The unspoken truth hung in the air between them.

At the end of the party, Harry stays behind to talk to Slughorn about Tom Riddle, but Slughorn is very cagey about the topic.

But Harry could see the fear in his eyes, the guilt. Whatever it was, Slughorn was burying it deep.

In their second Pensieve session, Harry and Dumbledore descended into another memory—this time from a house-elf named Hokey. The memory revealed Hepzibah Smith, a wealthy witch with a taste for rare magical artifacts.

"Would you like to guess what this is?" Hepzibah asked with a coy smile, handing a golden cup to a young Tom Riddle—not quite the noseless, bald Voldemort, but long past his schoolboy days.

"It has a badger," Tom said smoothly, inspecting the ornate object. "Helga Hufflepuff's cup?"

"Right you are, Tom," Hepzibah beamed. "And this second one is even better."

She revealed another prized possession: a locket gleaming gold, with a serpent etched into a green enamel setting.

"Slytherin's locket," Tom murmured, his grip tightening. His eyes flashed—just for a moment—a dangerous red.

The memory dissolved. Harry and Dumbledore were back in the dim, candlelit office.

"Hepzibah Smith was found dead two days after that meeting," Dumbledore said gravely. "Hokey was convicted of the murder. But it was Voldemort. He killed her for her trophies."

Harry frowned. "But why did he kill her, sir? He was so powerful, couldn't he just have wiped her memories? Wouldn't that be... less risky?"

Dumbledore allowed himself a small smile. "Ah. To get those answers, we must see one final memory."

They plunged into the Pensieve once more—this time, into a hazy recollection from Professor Slughorn. A teenage Tom Riddle sat with the professor, casually chatting, until he dropped the question.

"Sir, what do you know about Horcruxes?"

The air grew thick with smoke. Slughorn's mood turned on a dime.

"I don't know anything about Horcruxes!" he bellowed. "And I wouldn't tell you if I did! Now get out—get out, and don't let me catch you asking about them again!"

The memory expelled them violently.

Harry was full of questions. "Sir, what's H—"

Dumbledore raised a shriveled, blackened hand—his middle finger adorned with a ring that glimmered faintly. "All in due time, Harry. But for now, I have a task for you. That memory you just saw was altered. Slughorn tampered with it. He's ashamed of what it contains. Your mission is to retrieve the real one. It may be the most important memory of all."

Harry silently took that all in. It was clear he had a million questions, but he understood that Dumbledore wouldn't answer them until he got the memory, so he left the office.

Back in the common room, he saw Ron cuddled up beside Lavender Brown in a chair near the fireplace, while Hermione sat stiffly nearby, trying—and failing—to ignore them.

Harry brushed off the drama. He had bigger things to worry about.

After a Potions class, he tried asking Slughorn directly about Horcruxes. The professor's demeanor stiffened instantly.

"Let me guess," he said with a rueful smile, "Dumbledore sent you, didn't he?"

That ended the conversation.

Back in the dorm, things got weirder. Ron was giddy, fawning over Romilda Vane—who had very publicly been after Harry for months. She had sent Harry a box of enchanted chocolates spiked with love potion. Ron had eaten them by mistake.

Realizing what happened, Harry dragged him to Slughorn, the resident Potions master.

Although reluctant to entertain Harry, he still helped Ron when Harry praised his potions' knowledge. The antidote he provided worked wonders, and Ron was feeling much better.

To celebrate Ron's recovery, Slughorn uncorked a dusty bottle of mead. Harry and Slughorn raised glasses together, just as Ron took a big gulp from his glass, and then he collapsed, foaming at the mouth.

Panic erupted. Harry acted fast, shoving a bezoar down Ron's throat. Later, in the hospital wing, Ron stirred, murmuring a name in his sleep.

"Hermione…"

Lavender, sitting by his bedside, turned pale. Her jaw tightened as she left the place in a hurry.

"Awwww," Marissa cooed. "Ron and Hermione would look so cute together—if only they'd realize it."

Austin would've preferred Hermione with Harry, but by now, even he knew it just wasn't going to happen.

Back at Hogwarts, Harry remained suspicious that Draco had something to do with Ron's poisoning. So, he enlisted Dobby to follow Malfoy. The house-elf agreed with fanatical enthusiasm. Soon enough, Dobby reported back that Draco had been vanishing into the Room of Requirement—but for what purpose, he couldn't say.

Later, in the Gryffindor common room, Harry sat with Ron and Hermione, still obsessing over how to get Slughorn to part with the real memory, until Ron came up with an ingenious plan.

"I was saving the Felix for something else," Harry muttered, half-distracted, his eyes drifting toward Ginny across the room.

But in the end, he gave in.

He downed a vial of Felix Felicis, pulled on his Invisibility Cloak, and made his way through the corridors. At one point, he slipped right between Ginny and Dean, inadvertently sparking a fight. It wasn't meant to be funny, but the comedic timing, the way the actors launched into a bickering match the moment Harry brushed past, had Austin and half the theater erupting into laughter.

Harry on Felix was a different kind of hero—charming, energized, and bizarrely lucky. He grinned at everyone, even stopping to jovially greet a bewildered Slughorn, who tried (and failed) to stop him from heading to Hagrid's hut.

Aragog, the enormous acromantula, had died. Slughorn and Harry attended the funeral. As they were back in Hagrid's hut after the last rites, Harry struck.

"I'm the Chosen One," he said, his tone quiet but firm. "I have to kill him. I need that memory. Be brave, like my mother, Professor."

Slughorn hesitated—then, slowly, removed a glowing vial from his robes and handed it to Harry.

A small cheer rose from one corner of the theater. Austin didn't join in. He had a feeling whatever that memory held… wasn't good.

He was right.

It revealed the true nature of Horcruxes: like a lich's phylactery in Dungeons & Dragons—a vessel for a fragment of soul, created through murder. Suddenly, Hepzibah Smith's death made sense.

"What could the horcruxes be?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore pulled a familiar object from his desk—a diary.

"Remember this?" he said. "Some of them are simple, some impossibly hard to destroy." He held up his cursed, blackened hand—the same one still wearing that ominous ring.

"We can safely say that Hufflepuff's cup and Slytherin's locket are two Horcruxes," Dumbledore continued. "And Nagini, his snake. You've seen through her eyes. No ordinary snake can do that. She's bound to him."

"But where would we find them?" Harry wondered.

Dumbledore mulled it over silently before saying, "That, Harry, is our most difficult task ahead."

Harry thought aloud, "With the diary, ring, cup, locket, and Nagini, that makes five. We need one more. Given his obsession with the founders… something from Gryffindor or Ravenclaw?"

Dumbledore nodded slowly, but sighed. "Alas, we can't know for certain. Let me search with some of my sources to see if I can find a lead somewhere."

What followed was a high-stakes Quidditch match. The weather was atrocious—grey skies, pouring rain—but that didn't stop Harry, both captain and Seeker, from leading Gryffindor to a thundering victory against Ravenclaw. The final score: 450 to 140.

When Harry caught the Snitch, the stands exploded with cheers.

He landed hard on the muddy pitch, tackled Ron in a hug, then embraced each of his teammates one by one.

Until only one girl remained: Ginny.

They looked at each other, and the spark between them was undeniable—visible even beyond the screen. It didn't take long. Harry and Ginny finally closed the distance, kissing in the pouring rain as their teammates erupted into cheers and whistles. Gryffindors hooted in the background, egging them on.

While Austin still would've liked to see Harry end up with Hermione, he had to admit—Ginny was a strong, well-matched choice. The filmmakers had done a surprisingly graceful job developing her bond with Harry throughout the movie. And judging by the theater's applause, everyone else agreed. This moment had been a long time coming.

Back in the Great Hall, Harry spotted Katie Bell, finally back from her extended stay in St. Mungo's. He approached her carefully, asking about the cursed necklace incident. But Katie couldn't recall anything beyond the moment she touched it. Still, when she looked in Draco's direction, something in her expression sharpened. Draco, pale and shaken, turned and bolted.

Harry followed him into the boy's bathroom.

What followed was one of the most intense magical duels in the series.

Sparks flew, glass shattered, and water sprayed from broken pipes. But Harry, desperate and running on instinct, used a spell he barely understood—Sectumsempra—a curse he'd found scrawled in the Half-Blood Prince's book. It struck Draco like a blade.

Blood sprayed. Draco crumpled.

Horrified, Harry froze.

Just then, Snape burst in, immediately pressing his hands to Draco's wounds, whispering incantations as blood drew back into the boy's body like spilled ink in reverse. Harry fled, sick with guilt. Ron and Hermione urged him to hide the cursed book somewhere it would never be found. So he did: deep within the Room of Requirement.

Soon after, Dumbledore called on Harry. It was time. Together, they apparated to a remote cave, isolated in the middle of a stormy sea.

The scene that followed was among the darkest in the series.

To retrieve the Horcrux, Dumbledore was forced to drink a basin of enchanted potion—every drop pulling him deeper into a nightmare. He pleaded, cried, screamed for it to stop, but Harry had no choice but to keep going. When the basin was empty, Dumbledore begged for water.

Harry tried to conjure some, but the only available source was the black lake.

He dipped the goblet in.

A hand—gray, rotten, inhuman—lunged from the depths and seized his wrist.

Suddenly, the Inferi swarmed.

It was a callback to Snape's lesson early in the film—how basic spells were useless against the undead. Desperate, Harry used Sectumsempra. It worked, but there were too many of them. They dragged him down, clawing and cold.

And then—fire.

Blazing, majestic fire.

Dumbledore, revived by sheer will, summoned a whip of flame that tore through the lake, burning Inferi to ash.

They apparated back to Hogwarts. Dumbledore was weak, barely upright.

"Harry," he whispered. "Get me Severus."

"But sir—"

"Only Severus," he insisted.

Harry turned to go, but Dumbledore, barely lifting his wand, hit him with a silent spell—Petrificus Totalus. Harry was thrown against the stone wall, rigid. Then Dumbledore gently pulled the Invisibility Cloak over him.

Moments later—

"Expelliarmus!"

Draco stood at the top of the Astronomy Tower, wand out, face stricken. Dumbledore's wand flew from his hand.

The following minutes were unbearably tense. Draco wavered, clearly unable to follow through. But soon the Death Eaters arrived—Bellatrix, Greyback, the others—egging him on.

And then, Snape appeared.

For a breathless second, Austin thought Snape might defuse the situation. But then—

"Avada Kedavra!" With a green flash, the lifeless body of Albus Dumbledore fell down the Astronomy Tower.

Gasps rippled through the theater. A little girl in front of Austin began crying, shaking her head.

"No, no, no, no!" she whispered, trembling. "Dumbledore can't die! Snape is such an asshole!"

Austin didn't say anything. He just sat there—stunned, hollow—as the weight of the moment sank in like a stone to the gut.

That was the general sentiment, at least among the non-readers of the books.

The Death Eaters fled, and Harry followed, seething with rage. He witnessed several of them engaging in skirmishes against students, staff, and members of the Order of the Phoenix. When a spell came dangerously close to hitting Ginny, Harry struck back with everything he had, sending her assailant flying.

Then he remembered what he had to do.

He took off after Snape, Malfoy, and Bellatrix, trying to hit Snape with Sectumsempra. Tried being the keyword.

"Using my own spell against me, Potter?" Snape sneered at the fallen boy. "Yes, I am the Half-Blood Prince, whose book you learned that spell from."

With that, Snape turned and strode off dramatically, leaving a defeated Harry on the ground.

When Harry returned to the school, he found everyone gathered around Dumbledore's body. The Dark Mark shimmered ominously in the night sky.

Starting with McGonagall, one by one, the others raised their wands to dissipate the mark. Harry, meanwhile, broke down in Ginny's arms.

Besides Austin, Marissa was quietly wiping away tears at the somber scene. Although he would never admit it aloud, even he was silently choking back his own, the weight of Dumbledore's death hitting hard.

Later, Harry revealed to Ron and Hermione that the locket they retrieved from the cave was a fake, already stolen by someone who signed the note with the initials R.A.B.

The credits began to roll. A few uninformed audience members got up to leave, but like most who had grown up watching the Harry Potter films, Austin knew better. A post-credits scene was inevitable.

When it finally appeared, it revealed Dumbledore's funeral. Many current and former students, staff, and prominent dignitaries had gathered to pay tribute to the greatest wizard of their time.

But for Harry, there was only one thought on his mind.

He walked over to Ginny with purpose.

"Ginny," he began softly. "I wanted to say something."

Ginny leaned forward to kiss him, but Harry turned his head at the last moment, and she missed.

"I can't be involved with you anymore. It's too dangerous."

"It's for some stupid, noble reason, isn't it?" Ginny asked, on the verge of tears.

"These last few weeks with you have been straight out of someone else's life, Gin. The best time I have ever had. But I have things to do. And Voldemort will use you against me—to lure me out, maybe even worse."

Ginny was on the verge of tears. "I don't care, Harry."

"I care," he said, gently brushing his fingers across her cheek, an intimate gesture that finally made her cry. "I care too much." Their eyes kept locked on each other, full of unsaid things, yet no one spoke another word.

Ginny simply nodded once, but eyes still moist. With an equally heavy heart, Harry turned away and walked off, just as the movie ended.

"Oh, Harry!" Marissa moaned. "Why did you have to do that to poor Ginny?"

Austin wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they stayed in their seats a few moments longer than strictly necessary. It was such a somber, powerful film. Among the last three Harry Potter movies, it was hard to pick a favorite, but it went without saying that all three ranked among Austin's all-time top movies.

It had everything he loved in a movie: fantasy, romance, friendship, a dash of humor, and a good dose of tragedy.

Now, he was more determined than ever not to read The Deathly Hallows until the film came out.

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AN: Visit my personal website to read ahead, or check out my second Hollywood story set in the 80s.

Link: www(dot)fablefic(dot)com