The Blackwood private jet cut through the thick gray clouds above London.
Inside the luxurious cabin, Richard was reviewing a stack of legal documents. Donovan was staring out the window, watching the rainy English landscape come into view.
It was a Tuesday afternoon. Just forty-eight hours after Donovan had seen his sister reading the book.
They weren't here to play games. They were here to buy a universe.
An hour later, a black Bentley pulled up outside a modest brick building in Fulham. This was the Christopher Little Literary Agency.
When Richard and Donovan walked into the small reception area, the secretary nearly dropped her phone.
Everyone in the world knew who Donovan Blackwood was right now. *The Phantom Menace* was still breaking records in theaters globally.
They were quickly escorted into the main conference room.
Sitting at the table was a literary agent in a sharp suit, and next to him, a blonde woman who looked visibly nervous. Joanne. J.K. Rowling.
She had created a masterpiece in a coffee shop, and now, the most powerful family in Hollywood was sitting across from her.
"Mr. Blackwood," the agent said, standing up to shake Richard's hand. "We weren't expecting a studio head to fly across the Atlantic personally."
"When my son tells me a story is special, I don't send an intern," Richard smiled warmly, though his eyes were sharp.
Richard sat down, immediately taking control of the room's energy. Donovan sat next to him, perfectly calm and composed.
Joanne looked at Donovan. "You're... you're the boy who played Anakin Skywalker. My daughter dragged me to see it twice."
"Thank you, ma'am," Donovan smiled politely. "Your book has done the same to my little sister. She hasn't put it down in weeks."
The agent cleared his throat. "We've had inquiries from other studios. Fox and Disney have both reached out. Joanne is... very protective of her world."
"As she should be," Richard agreed smoothly. He reached into his briefcase and placed a thick folder on the table.
He slid it across the wood.
"I'm not here to offer you a standard option contract," Richard said. "I'm offering two million pounds for the film rights to the first four books. Upfront. Plus a generous percentage of the merchandising."
The agent's eyes went completely wide. In 1999, paying two million pounds for an unfinished children's book series was a staggering amount of money.
Joanne stared at the folder, but she didn't reach for it. She looked back up at Richard.
"It's a very generous offer, Mr. Blackwood," Joanne said quietly. "But money isn't my primary concern. Hollywood has a habit of taking British stories and Americanizing them."
She crossed her arms defensively. "I don't want a blonde, American pop star playing Harry. I don't want Hogwarts relocated to New York. If I sell this, I lose my world."
"You won't lose your world, Joanne," Donovan intervened. His voice was steady and carried an impossible weight.
Joanne looked at him, suddenly feeling like she was speaking to an industry veteran with forty years of experience.
"We aren't going to Americanize it," Donovan continued, leaning forward. "We will put it in the contract today. A strict, one-hundred-percent British and Irish cast."
The agent blinked in surprise. "You would put that in writing?"
"Absolutely," Donovan nodded confidently, relying purely on his sharp artistic instincts to seal the deal. "We will film entirely in the UK. We will use British directors. And you will be a creative consultant on the scripts."
Joanne's defensive posture slowly melted. "Why do you care so much about doing it my way?"
"Because if you change the soul of the story, the magic dies," Donovan stated simply.
Richard leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. The billionaire shark was ready to close the trap.
"However," Richard said, his tone turning strictly to business. "In exchange for unprecedented creative concessions and this level of financial backing, our studio requires absolute security."
Richard pulled out a secondary, much thinner document.
"This is an IP Integrity and Severability clause," Richard explained, tapping the paper. "It means we own the cinematic universe outright. You have consultation rights, but we have the absolute final cut."
Richard looked directly into Joanne's eyes. "Furthermore, this clause protects our investment from any future public relations liabilities. If, at any point in the future, your public statements, controversies, or personal endeavors threaten the financial stability of the franchise, we retain the legal right to sever your creative involvement entirely and proceed with the IP independently."
The agent frowned. "That's a very aggressive morality clause, Mr. Blackwood."
"It's a billion-dollar insurance policy," Richard corrected coldly. "I am giving you creative loyalty, millions of pounds, and a completely British cast. In return, I am ensuring our investment cannot be held hostage by a single individual's future actions or opinions. It's non-negotiable."
Joanne looked at the secondary document. The warning was clear. She would be rich beyond her wildest dreams, and her characters would remain British. But the moment she signed, the cinematic world belonged to the Blackwoods. If she ever became a liability, they would simply lock her out of her own castle.
She looked at Donovan. The sixteen-year-old just offered a polite, reassuring smile.
"My father is just protecting the magic, Joanne," Donovan said softly. "As long as the focus stays on the boy who lived, everyone wins."
Joanne looked at the folder. Then she looked at her agent. She let out a long, shaky breath.
"Strictly British actors?" she asked one last time.
"Every single one," Donovan promised.
He didn't mention that he was already planning a massive loophole for himself in the second movie. Tom Riddle was a memory. An anomaly. He could easily bend the rules when the time came.
"Alright," Joanne smiled, extending her hand across the table. "You have a deal, Mr. Blackwood."
Richard shook her hand, his predatory grin returning. He had just secured the rights to a multi-billion dollar empire, completely shielded from any future drama, in under twenty minutes.
As the lawyers began drafting the final paperwork, Donovan leaned back in his chair.
He closed his eyes, his sharp intuition already working in overdrive. He was scanning his mental database, hunting for three unknown British kids to play Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
The magical world was officially his.