Chapter 10: Button Down
London, UK. January, 2003.
His bed was calling out to him. Like soft whispers from a lover, he heard his name being whispered in his mind. “Neil. Neil. Neil. “
But he disregarded his desires and knuckled down to get the screenplay finished. His next meeting with JK Rowling and the producers was in less than a week. He’d like very much to show them a cohesive, completed draft; unlike the unfinished jigsaw puzzle he’d been asked to revamp.
Neil Gaiman sighed, and tiredly scrubbed his eyes to stave off his drowsiness.
Uncapping his highlighter, he found yet another discrepancy between the source material (the book) and Steve Kloves’ script.
The man whose place he’d been hired to take.
The most frustrating part about his current task wasn’t that Kloves had done an awful job, and that Neil would have to start from scratch. It was that Kloves had actually done a fairly decent job with the adaptation - especially the first act, from the Dursley escape to the dementors on the train.
Neil actually preferred the script’s handling of the hippogriff scene compared to the book. Even the werewolf chase was an excellent addition - appropriately cinematic and terrifying; all Neil had to do for that was resize Hermione’s unnecessarily large command of the scene to make it book accurate enough.
Aside from that, however, everything began to fall apart.
Kloves had elected to ignore the core through-line of the story. Harry sleuthing out the mystery behind Sirius and the Marauders is the most important plot point of the story. Without that, the plot twist at the end fell completely and utterly flat. How anticlimactic.
Condensing the multiple quidditch matches and Hogsmeade visits was a respectable decision too, in Neil’s opinion. Audiences would grow bored - but that didn’t mean you just randomly jumbled dialogues and scenes in any order.
All of that, to an extent, would be forgivable and easily fixed. It was easy for him to do so, seeing as Neil was an accomplished author in his own right. American Gods was a stunning success. His Sandman series was a cult phenomenon, and his screenwriting on Neverwhere had been a favourite for those tuning into the BBC.
But nothing hurt Neil’s inner author more than the egregious mishandling of both Ron and Hermione.
No fight over Crookshanks and Scabbers - reducing the impact of the Pettigrew reveal. No fight over the Firebolt - taking away another aspect of the mystery and denying all three children their character growths. And worst of all, outright stealing Ron’s defining moments just to bolster an already solid character. Neil was surprised that Kloves hadn't assigned the task of performing the Patronus to Hermione instead of Harry.
So much to do, Neil exhaustingly thought. He almost succumbed to the relentless beckoning of his soft sheets, but just as he was getting up, he spotted the dog-eared copy of his latest book, Coraline. It was filled with post-its and notes in the margins - they depicted an analytical comparison on the themes and motifs between the story he’d written, and the saga of Harry Potter.
None of it was in his handwriting.
David Heyman had given it to him. When they’d interviewed him for the job, they’d admitted to not even knowing who he was. They’d revealed to him that his profile had been brought to the studio’s attention after Bas Rhys, the young man portraying Harry Potter, had sent them this copy of his book to the studio. Trying to convince them to take him on. And they had.
Neil sighed again, but ultimately sat down to continue his work. He couldn’t be upstaged by a thirteen-year-old boy.
Neil didn’t know whether he’d curse the boy or kiss the boy when they’d eventually meet. The work was mountainous, but the money was too.
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Leavesden Studios, UK. February 2003.
As was becoming increasingly customary, I once again found myself in a discussion with JK Rowling at the starting line of the newest film.
Though, today’s meeting was less about the still under construction screenplay, which by all accounts was coming along swimmingly through Neil Gaiman’s respectful imagination, but had more to do with the next book slated for release.
Coraline wasn’t the only bit of summer reading I’d done last year.
“My editor could use an assistant like you,” JK Rowling said wonderingly as she trawled through my chicken scratch handwriting littering the draft manuscript for Order of the Phoenix.
I wasn’t going to sit and lie and say I’d pored over the book with a fine-tooth comb. Even above my own interpretations of the book, I had the benefit of extensive discourse and review and discourse of the reviews, if that wasn’t already convoluted enough, to bolster my critique. Not that I’d written an essay for every chapter, “I’ve just annotated what I considered the most salient points.”
She snapped the book shut, her forefinger trapped between the pages marking her place for her to return. “Is that humility, I hear? How unusual for you, Bas.” she teased.
“I’m one of the most humble people in the world! Ask anybody, they’ll say so too.” I rebutted with blatant narcissism.
“Ha!” She threw her head back and laughed. “See, this is why I enjoy our little chats. You’ve got a tongue sharp enough to duel with.”
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“Got a lot of ‘yes men’ following you around these days, then I take it?”
“Like a line of lost ducklings. But enough about that.” She reopened the book, folded the page she was on, and set it down on a nearby table. “I’m going to read through all that later. For now, though, I’d like to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth. How’d you like the book?”
I leaned back in my chair and steepled my hands in front of my face. That pose likely did every cliche villain proud. “I don’t know how you’re going to pull it off, but Voldemort’s going to have a hard time filling those pink power heels Umbridge wears. She has to be one of the greatest villains in modern fiction.”
Rowling clapped hands in glee. “I’m inexorably proud of how detestable she is!”
“The secondary cast really shone in this novel. I don’t know who I like more, Ginny or Luna. And the stuff with Neville and the Longbottoms is just wow. Even Snape! This has to be the first and only time since his introduction that I haven’t felt only disgust for him. Not to mention just how brutal the hit with Sirius was, especially after the mirror revelation.” I heaped on the praise.
She did that wriggly thing with her fingers to highlight her evil intent. “Oh, it’s all coming together!”
Such a shame I had to burst her bubble. “That being said, I do have some thoughts.”
“Building me up, just to tear me down, eh?”
“A spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down.” That was Cadbury piping up from her perch in the corner.
I jerked my thumb at her. “Mary Poppins gets it.” Rowling just rolled her eyes. “To make it even easier to swallow, I’ll mostly stick to the nitpicks.”
“I’m listening.”
“Well, first off, the jaunt through the DoM is too tedious. The door spins, they go into a room, they run back out, the door spins again, you get it, yeah?”
She pursed her lips and hummed. “Streamlining is possible, I suppose. What else?”
“Why does Slytherin house exist?” She looked as if I was an alien.
“To be the bad guys.” She said slowly, as if talking to a particularly slow golden retriever.
“That’s it?” I pressed. “Don’t you feel like they’ve become one dimensional punching bags? I just thought about having a splinter group joining the D.A. would add a little more nuance.”
She rubbed her chin in thought. “I guess I see your point, though I feel that Snape alone gives Slytherin enough complexity.” She shut her eyes and considered for a moment. “It’s not a bad idea, but not for Order. I’ll need time to sort them out in the subsequent novels.”
“Fair enough.” I shrugged. I had bigger fish to fry. “Grawp and SPEW seem like wasted time. Their plot threads don’t really amount to anything.”
“Both serve to aid Hermione. SPEW shows her well-intentioned but misguided self righteousness. And Grawp is her inspiration to lure Umbridge into the forest.” Rowling was quick to defend her work.
“Feels contrived.” I was honest. “You’re usually much better with your Chekhov’s guns. Like with Montague and the vanishing cabinet, I don’t know what you have planned for that,” Lie. I did. “But I’m sure the payoff is worth it. Grawp isn’t. And as for Hermione’s character, you’ve already established it. She bullies Harry into forming the DA - which is a push he admittedly needs. The way she guards that secret with the enchanted sheet also accomplishes the same. And also the Rita in a jar thing.”
“I can’t argue with that.” She grumbled but remained stubborn. “But I like the SPEW stuff.”
“Then keep it.” This was the chance I was waiting for. “But have it serve another purpose.”
“Such as?”
“Maybe plugging that plot hole with Dobby alerting Harry about Umbridge discovering the room of requirement.”
“Wh-what?”
“The speed with which Umbridge reacts to Marrietta’s info and even where it’s revealed - there’s no reason Dobby or any house-elf for that matter would know and also be barred from talking about it, unless he was actively spying on her. And you never even hint at that.” She picked up the manuscript and flipped through the pages. She’d written the thing, so I didn’t take her long to find the relevant excerpts.
She read it, tossed it, and sunk her face in her hands with a groan. “I can’t believe no one caught that.”
I patted myself down. “I’m not invisible, am I?” I discovered it and I was someone.
Her eyes glared at me through the gap in her fingers. “I preferred you humble.”
“I have a suggestion that could tie it all together.” I offered my insight.
“Go for it.”
I took a breath and built the foundation. “Harry’s generally a pretty proactive guy. He searched for the stone, he rescued Ginny and Sirius. Why wouldn’t he do something more about his own poor situation? Even if it’s just a light heads up for when things inevitably go wrong for him.”
Rowling sat quietly, paying attention as I spoke.
“The only worthwhile thing Harry is doing right now is the DA. But he should have misgivings. When he gets caught later in the book, no one is prepared to help him even then.”
Rowling pursed her lips and squinted. “But, that’s wrong! Dumbledore takes the blame for the DA on himself.”
“So? He still disappears abruptly. Fudge and Umbridge have already proved they consider themselves above the law. Umbridge sent dementors to snog Harry to death. As far as the ministry is concerned, there’s no obstacle to get rid of Harry anymore.”
“.... I knew I should have kept the version where Dumbledore gets taken to Azkaban instead. I don’t have nearly enough time for such a massive rewrite. Also, how does any of this solve the Dobby problem?” She sighed.
“I’m just saying. You can’t change anything now, but maybe in the next novel. You might also want to adjust Harry's attitude towards Dumbledore; I don't think he should be so forgiving - but that's ultimately your call." Realizing that I had gotten off topic, I refocused my argument. “As for the Dobby situation, here’s how it could work out: as much as Harry trusts Hermione, her methods leave a lot to be desired. Then SPEW happens. Her intrusive activism poses a danger to the house-elves, proving Harry’s point further. But then a silver lining, Harry reunites with Dobby who’s always eager to help out. When Marrietta becomes a sneak, Dobby is able to give a good enough heads-up for everyone to escape. But Harry, who’s quite a bit more confrontational this year, makes the choice to stay and get caught, which also might be Voldemort’s thoughts impacting him-”
“Like when the serial killer turns himself in at the start of se7en.” Rowling suggested.
I snapped my fingers. “Exactly! The story can stay mostly the same from this point forward. And I also feel you get more consistent characterization for Harry. It didn’t sit right with me that the guy who’s successfully teaching students older than even himself notoriously difficult charms like the Patronus gets so easily tripped running away from his schoolyard bully.”
We sat quietly for a while as Rowling absorbed our conversation. Cadbury had thoughtfully prepared a pot of tea, while JK read through my notes and collected her thoughts. “You know, I never thought I'd empathize with Kloves, but you’ve put me in that position and I don’t think I can forgive you for that.” She kidded.
I waggled my pinky finger at her. “A promise is a promise.”
She stood with a tired chuckle. “Yes.” she made her way over to me and tapped the manuscript on my head. “It is. I’m going to head out. I need to see just how much I can fix in the little time I have left.”