Because Dunn messed up a single sentence, the two of them skipped watching *Les Misérables* and ended up at a kids' comedy show instead, thanks to a theater brochure.
Natalie's reasoning was pretty straightforward: it's just a bunch of little kids, so Dunn couldn't possibly have any sneaky ideas, right?
According to the staff, this children's theater troupe was called the "Playhouse Brats," with an average age of 10. They hailed from Pennsylvania and were in New York for the weekend—not to make money, but to build confidence and see the world.
Their performance hall was tiny, and the audience? Barely there. From the enthusiastic cheers, though, it was pretty obvious most of them were the kids' parents.
Dunn looked awkwardly puzzled. "Uh… is this even interesting?"
Natalie tilted her chin up with a smirk. "Watching this makes me feel safe."
But when the show started, Dunn was so stunned he couldn't even speak.
The kids were performing *Harry Potter*!
*Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone* had come out in the U.S. last year, but with little promotion, it didn't make much of a splash—sales were meh. Who'd have thought it had such a huge impact on kids? This group from Pennsylvania had even turned it into a stage play!
Dunn had a bad feeling. "Is *Harry Potter* about to blow up out of nowhere?" That'd totally mess with his business plans!
"Guess I need to nudge David Heyman to lock down the rights for the next four books ASAP," he muttered to himself.
His mind wandered, but soon he and Natalie got sucked into the kids' performance. Natalie was curious about the *Harry Potter* story, while Dunn… well, he was fixated on a little girl.
"She's actually doing a stage play?" he said, floored.
…
After the show, Dunn dragged Natalie backstage.
A staff member stopped them right away, but Dunn puffed up his chest. "Hi, I'm Dunn Walker."
"Director Walker?" The guy blinked, sizing Dunn up, then spotted Natalie Portman next to him. His face turned red. "M-Miss Portman?"
Dunn frowned, cutting to the chase. "I need to speak to whoever's in charge of your troupe. Your *Harry Potter* performance? It's infringing on my rights!"
Book adaptation rights usually cover TV, movies, ads, music, stage plays—the works—unless it's specifically just movie rights. And the stage play rights for *Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone*? Yup, Dunn owned those.
Soon, the troupe leader, Wilson, rushed over, looking flustered.
"Mr. Wilson, sorry to break it to you," Dunn said politely, "but I hold the adaptation rights for this play, and I don't recall ever getting a request to use them."
Wilson, a gentleman in his fifties, fidgeted. "Mr. Walker, we're just a community group. This is about nurturing the kids' love for art and performance. We're not making any profit, so…"
Dunn waved a hand. "Sorry, Mr. Wilson, but we paid for tickets."
Wilson panicked, sweat beading up. "Mr. Walker, the ticket money goes to the theater—we don't see a dime! We're just here to help the kids gain some courage."
Natalie stayed cool and quiet, but as more people gathered, she tugged Dunn's arm. "Why don't we let the lawyers handle this and get out of here?"
"Miss Portman!" Wilson pleaded. If lawyers got involved, even a small settlement could crush their little troupe.
The fuss drew the parents' attention. They respected Wilson and wanted to help, but… this was Dunn Walker, Hollywood big shot! And from the sound of it, he had the upper hand.
No matter how you sliced it, infringement was wrong.
Dunn sighed. "Mr. Wilson, I can tell everyone respects you, and you're genuinely doing this for the kids. But you've still stepped on my rights. You get that, right?"
"Yes, yes, absolutely," Wilson nodded fast. "Mr. Walker, I'll compensate you. If you could just, for the kids' sake…"
Dunn grinned, crouching down in front of the troupe's little actors, who'd already taken off their makeup. He looked at them warmly.
These kids had guts—facing a Hollywood director's gaze without flinching. A few even piped up, begging for Wilson.
Dunn squatted there, all friendly-like. "Since you all know infringement's wrong, shouldn't there be a penalty?"
"Uh… yeah…" a tiny voice squeaked, only to be cut off by a bolder one. "No way! We're minors—we don't break laws by infringing!"
Dunn burst out laughing. "Pfft!" The parents couldn't help chuckling too.
Everyone could see Dunn wasn't out for blood anymore—he wouldn't be this chill otherwise.
"You're off the hook legally," Dunn said, still grinning, "but Wilson's an adult. What if the cops hauled him off?"
"Nooo!"
"You can't take him!"
"Here, take my candy—please don't mess with Mr. Wilson, okay?"
The kids' innocence was too cute, melting even Natalie's icy stare a little.
Dunn turned back to Wilson with a smile. "Awesome kids you've got."
Wilson let out a relieved breath, his eyes full of pride. "Yeah, they're amazing. Who knows? In a few years, some of them might even make it to Hollywood!"
Dunn chuckled but didn't bite on that one. Instead, he turned to the kids. "Alright, Wilson messed up. Who's brave enough to sing a song? If you do, I'll let him off the hook. Deal?"
"Deal!" the kids chirped in unison.
A pretty, confident blonde girl with blue eyes stepped up—deep-set eyes and high brows hinting at a stubborn streak. "I'll sing Madonna's *Frozen*."
Dunn clapped, thrilled. "Awesome! What's your name, talented lady?"
She stood tall, not at all like a typical 10-year-old. "I'm Taylor. Taylor Swift. Honestly, I'm not great at acting or singing—I'm a poet!"
Everyone cracked up.
Taylor's mom, Andrea Swift, rushed over, beaming with pride. "She wrote a poem this year—over 120 lines! It won the national youth poetry contest."
"Over 120 lines? That's, what, three or four pages?" Dunn gaped. Little Taylor Swift already had songwriting chops at this age!
Taylor tilted her chin proudly. "Yup! It's called *The Monster in My Closet*, inspired by *Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone*. So you can't stop us from performing it!"
Dunn laughed. "Alright, sing for us. If it's good, I'll let you perform it for free. How's that?"
The crowd erupted in cheers. Walker's a class act!
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