Chapter 16: Hystery

The Creature Shop, Leavesden. December 2004.

Tenta-vision or tele-squision? I contemplated what name better suited the massive mechanical puppets made to look like the Black Lake’s giant squid.

Today was a bit of a special day at Leavesden, particularly for me. Mrs Stephens was visiting.

As a bit of an early Christmas present for the orphans, Mrs Stephens had asked if the children could visit the set and see what making a movie was like.

I asked Nick Dudman, who was the man in charge of the creatures shop here at the studio where all the animatronics, puppets, models, and various other visual effects fantastic beasts were conceptualized, created and stored, to help give a guided tour of the magical world.

Certainly beat going to the zoo for the twentieth time.

“So if I do this.” Nick fiddled with the elaborate remote control in his hands. The kids looked enraptured as the handful of eight-foot-long tentacles jerked and curled in on themselves, forming irregular circles. There were monitors placed behind a few of them that started playing the raw footage of the four champions underwater. “The squid comes alive!” The kids all whoa’d in awe.

Though the CGI wasn’t even half done, you could still get the gist. Cedric performed a bubble head charm, Fleur struggled against Grindylows, Victor had a sharky grin, and I was led by the nose by Myrtle’s ghost.

Neil Gaiman had gotten the go ahead to use the squid and a bit of imaginative magic to make the scene better than the books, where hundreds of people just stared at water for an hour.

“Now, who wants to see some dragons?”

Arms sprung up in the air with a loud chorus of about twenty ‘Me!’

Mrs Stephens and I lagged back as Nick led them to the giant reptiles.

In the original film we got the ridiculous chase of the Horntail trying to eat Harry while simultaneously destroying the parapets around Hogwarts. No dragon handlers to help corral the thing, and neither Dumbledore nor the teachers did anything except happily plugged their ears and shut their eyes as one of their students was nearly made into a meal. Culminating in the dragon falling away in a never before or again seen chasm under Hogwarts and forgotten from collective consciousness.

From a cinematic standpoint, sure it was cool. But story wise, it eroded Harry’s reasoning for being placed in first position, and further muddied the events of the tournament.

We reached the large space where the four different species of dragons were being herded. My gnarly looking Horntail, the vibrant Chinese Fireball, as well as the Welsh Green and Swedish Shortsnout. Each was wonderfully unique and distinct in design.

Neil had a very simple and elegant solution. Instead of just one dragon, have four. Each contestant also got to show off different branches of magic.

Fleur got charms, Krum got curses, Cedric had transfiguration, and I, of course, flew.

“Stand back, everyone!” Nick flipped a switch. The maw of one of the lizards shot open and spewed a plume of flame, much to the children’s manic excitement.

How’s that for cinema?

Mrs Stephens tugged on my arm. I signaled Nick that we were stepping aside for a moment, which he acknowledged with a thumbs up and happily continued entertaining the orphans.

Guess it was time for a more serious conversation.

Safely away from eager ears, I asked, “So what did the doctors say?”

Silence hung in the air, and then Mrs Stephens broke down, the weight of years of unfulfilled dreams crashing over her. “I held out hope for so long, thinking maybe one day... but.” She descended into sobs.

Immediately, I wrapped her tight in my arms and pulled her trembling figure into an embrace. “Of all things, why a hysterectomy?” She continued to lament. Her voice was wet and thick with anguish. “All I’ve ever wanted was a family of my own, and now that I’m finally in a position to have it, it’s stripped away from me!”

What could I possibly say?

I soothingly rubbed her back, whispered soothing words in her ear as she cried softly into my chest. It wasn’t long, but I let her have a good cry on me. A little while later, she pulled back, sniffling and wiping her tears. “Oh, dear. That really got away from me, didn’t it?” She tutted and tried to wipe away the fluids staining my shirt. “I’m sorry, Bas. I’ve ruined your clothes.”

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

“You haven’t ruined anything. I know it’s not the same, but for me and those kids out there too, you’re more family than we’d ever known before. And believe me when I say you’re no less of a mother just because we don’t share blood.”

“Oh, Bas!”

I pulled her in again and tucked her under my arm. I reached back and plucked out my wallet. With a twist of my wrist, I flicked it open. “Remember this?” our photo from the pier. A brittle smile stole across her face and she gently poked the polaroid.

“Of course, I do. My own version is framed on my bedside table. I’m forced to look at that stupid face of yours every night before I fall asleep.” At least she wasn’t crying anymore.

“And that’s the silver lining, isn’t it? What if you had a kid, and they turned out even remotely like me? Can you imagine that?” I self-deprecated to cheer her up.

She looked up at me. Her eyes were glistening, her lips were trembling, but she still smiled. She reached over, cupped the side of my face, and pressed a kiss on my cheek. “No I can’t, Bas. You’re one of a kind.”

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Leavesden Studio, UK. December 2004.

The movie was officially less than a year away from its scheduled release in November of ‘05. It was the most VFX and CGI heavy movie so far, so the post-production process had already commenced; and would also take an inordinate amount for completion and refinement. We were getting pretty down to the wire. Especially considering we still had two months of more filming scheduled.

Unfortunately, they wouldn’t be able to complete their job until and unless we finished filming all the shots.

Alfonso had requisitioned a specialized slow-motion camera for this shoot. He wanted to frame this shot like a renaissance painting. Symbolizing the numb state of Harry’s mind as the world around him zoomed away.

Today’s call sheet was utterly stacked. All the heavy hitters were packed into the spacious infirmary.

The scene was blocked as a carefully choreographed hurricane of organized chaos. Sadly, while the intricacy of the scene would look phenomenal when put to the screen - at least if it looked anything like Alfonso’s storyboards - it required take after take after take to get right.

My ass was chafing something fierce from being stuck in my position on the bed. Most people might not complain about that, but I also spent the morning in make-up getting all my battle damage appropriately haggard; as well as accurate for scene continuity.

I really hoped I didn’t develop hemorrhoids or something from sitting for so long. I’d rather be strung up on the wires again.

[The camera, with the cinematographer and Alfonso next to him, was pushed right up to my face for an extreme close-up.

I schooled my expression into a thousand-eyed-stare directly into the lens. There was a bright light burning directly behind that would force my pupils to dilate. Deep, dark bags expanded under my eyes courtesy of the strong overhead lights and make-up.

The camera slowly pulled back, as the entire rig reversed slowly on its rails.

The cot I was laid in became visible. I made myself begin to shiver ever so lightly, my hands fisted the sheets as if I was trying to prevent myself from showing so.

Pulling back further, Gambon as Dumbledore, was impassionately arguing with a blubbering Cornelius Fudge, while Rickman as Snape pulled up his sleeve to show the dark mark.

I continued staring unblinkingly into the light. The brightness and the wind drying my eyes out; compelling my tear ducts to activate, to turn them glassy.

The camera continued its backwards trajectory, widening the frame. A second cot became visible to the side. Pattinson, as Diggory, lay blank eyed and comatose, Amos Diggory bawling over his chest, while a teary-eyed Sprout pulled a white sheet over his face.

Pomfrey, wand held aloft, marched purposefully across from one end of the frame to the other; Brendan Gleeson, as Mad-eye Moody, was hooked up to a wire harness and was floated along behind her to an empty bed.

I kept my expression and eye contact where it was, even as the camera would lose sight of me for a fleeting moment.

Emma, Rupert, and Maggie Smith, reprising Hermione, Ron, and McGonagall respectively, entered the scene.

McGonagall clutched at an angry Ron’s jumper, holding him back, while a tearful Hermione bounced in place, held there by the sheer power of authority. All three concentrated their gazes in my direction.

I unwaveringly kept burning a hole into the camera lens. I shivered more aggressively, no longer shaking as imperceptibly as earlier.

The camera reached its terminus; just over the shoulder of Bill and Molly Weasley. Domhnall Gleeson (who is Brendan’s son) pointed at me. Julie Walters, as Molly followed Bill’s finger, where she saw me slowly lose my battle with composure.

Seeing that, she pushed through the crowd in a mad dash. The camera accompanied her at the same pace.

Just as she initiated her embrace, Molly swiped her wand around her back. The curtains pulled close around my bed before the camera - and thus the prying eyes of the crowd - could intrude into the intimate moment.

The rig pushed through, the fabric caressing the lens as Molly and I had our moment.

She cradled me firmly in her arms, and allowing Harry, for the first time in his memory, to feel the loving hug of mother. Consolingly, she rubbed my back, pressed her cheek into the top of my head and whispered commiserations.

I let myself lose the battle with my emotions then. I thought of Mrs Stephens.

My hands sprang up. I entangled my fingers desperately into the mesh of her knitted cardigan. I let my eyes close.

I scrunched my face with all the pain I could muster. At this point, I didn’t even feel sure if this was real or not. Tears streamed down my cheeks, my glasses skewed as I burrowed deeper into the embrace. Julie Walters tightened her arms around me.

“I’m right here, dear boy. Shh shh shh.” She attempted to soothe me. My shoulders shook hard, and I heaved my chest as I cried. I was still Harry though, so I refused to bawl out or wail. I just silently sobbed, whimperingly, hissingly, as Julie continued to comfort me. “It’ll all be ok. I promise. I promise.” Her voice began to waver too, but she held strong.]

If this didn’t get final cut, nothing would.