….
Regal stepped into the private soundstage on the Red Studio backlot, the heavy door shutting behind him with a soft click.
Inside, the space was plain - acoustic panels lining the walls, a cluster of mismatched chairs, a couple of water bottles left half-drunk on a nearby folding table.
Seated in a casual arc were three men.
They looked up as he entered.
All three were in the same general age range, mid-forties to early fifties - and in front of each of them sat a slim folder marked with bold block lettering:
….
[SEVERUS SNAPE]
[LORD VOLDEMORT]
[RUBEUS HAGRID]
….
They had been waiting ten minutes.
Long enough to trade pleasantries, even clear up the initial confusion over who was reading for what.
Now, the room shifted with Regal's arrival, a quiet attentiveness settling in.
"Hey, guys." Regal greeted, offering a quick nod as he approached.
Three responses followed, each slightly different in tone.
"Hello to you, Director."
"Hey there."
"Hey, Regal."
His gaze passed over each of them in turn.
First, Alfred Molina - reading for Snape.
Regal almost smiled. It was impossible not to picture the tentacles.
Doctor Octopus.
That was always the first thing that came to Regal's mind, even though Molina's résumé stretched across decades of serious work from his past world.
Stage, screen, indie, blockbuster. He had a certain weight to him.
A grounded gravity. You didn't need him to raise his voice to know something dangerous was simmering underneath.
Exactly the kind of tension you would want in Snape.
Next to him is another unexpected presence.
Willem Dafoe - auditioning for Voldemort.
Of course it is again the same Willem Dafoe.
Regal had to internally steady himself every time he looked at him.
Dafoe practically radiated menace without trying. His face was expressive in the way that made you uncomfortable and captivated at once.
Green Goblin.
It was an easy association, but Regal wasn't here for cartoon villainy.
That sick grin. The trembling voice.
Regal had always thought the man was born to play a villain - but this time, it would be a different sort of evil.
Cold, pale, ancient. My Lord…
And then, the third chair.
Robin Williams - auditioning for Rubeus Hagrid.
Regal had to catch himself. Just seeing him stirred something - nostalgia, admiration, a twinge of disbelief.
Robin Williams, in this room, reading for this?
He had grown up watching him. [Dead Poets Society], [Patch Adams], [Good Will Hunting] - but more than that, [Jumanji]
That wild energy, that humor with heart. There was always a sadness beneath the joy, a weight beneath the levity.
That, Regal thought, was what made him perfect for Hagrid.
Because Hagrid wasn't just comic relief.
He was the emotional spine and the one who made you feel like the world was still safe, even when it wasn't.
Robin didn't need a costume or a beard to sell it. Just his kind look. A lopsided smile. The quiet crack in his voice when he got serious.
And now here he was, smiling at Regal, eyes kind, hands folded neatly over the folder.
Actually, this wasn't their first near-collaboration. Regal had reached out to Robin for a role in [The Hangover] months ago, back when casting was still chaos - but scheduling killed it before it got off the ground.
Still, when Hagrid became available again, Regal didn't hesitate. He called Robin directly.
And how could he not think of that story?
That interview years ago in a different past - where Robin had admitted, gently but frankly - that he once wanted to play Hagrid in the original films. He had even contacted the studio, but they had shut him down because of a hardline British-only casting rule.
And since Regal didn't find the original one, who is better to fill his shoes than Robin?
Regal glanced between the three of them.
There it was. Alfred. Willem. Robin.
Three absolute titans. Legends of his past world.
And here they were, sitting in rickety chairs and about to audition for roles that defined a generation.
No, this wasn't supposed to happen.
However, he is willing to bet on them.
Well, maybe he needs to throw in a few language coaches, a couple dialect tweaks, and a little hair dye where needed - but the talent?
Unmatched.
He was betting on them to bring this world to life.
The room had gone quiet for a few seconds.
Regal stood there, taking a breath - not to gather authority, but to acknowledge something quietly surreal.
He didn't feel like a director at that moment.
He felt like a kid who had drawn a picture of the characters in his head - and now they had stepped off the page.
….
Immediately, once the greeting was finished the four of them went onto discussing their roles and their interpretation.
There was no camera rolling, or directing them - it is simply pure collaborative and creative discussion.
None of the men objected to the different approach of audition.
They were all professionals, and they knew every director had their own way of working style and as actors they simply needed to mold themselves.
Moreover, they were prepared for some weirdness beforehand meeting - as by now Regal style of working is pretty much known throughout Hollywood.
….
First it was… Robin's turn.
He was quick.
He gave almost ten different modulations of how he is thinking of portraying him explaining who he thinks Hagrid is as a person.
Then it was Willem.
He leaned back in his chair. "I don't think Voldemort is driven by rage. I feel like he is driven by something else. Maybe, fear of death? I am not sure, but what I am sure of is that is what makes him dangerous. You can't negotiate with someone afraid of their own end right?"
"I also think that Voldemort doesn't see himself as evil…. personally. I think he sees the world as a chessboard and himself as the one playing it correctly."
"You mean detached?" Regal asked.
Dafoe just nodded his head this time… like he is still trying to figure things out too.
Robin chimed in with half-laugh. "But gotta say, that's heavy stuff."
Willem smiled with that same edge he always had, somewhere between charm and discomfort. "I have played worse."
They all chuckled - except Alfred Molina, who had been quiet.
Not standoffish. Just... thoughtful.
Regal turned slightly toward him. "Alfred?"
If there is one man who couldn't discuss much it is - Alfred Molina.
It wasn't because of his unwillingness to cooperate, but because there wasn't much given to him.
Regal held back wantedly…
Because his story is going to be a big reveal.
Undoubtedly, it is clear that his character, Severus Snape, for some unknown reason is wary around Harry.
But again, that question is why?
Also if he was wary of him why go to such an extent to help Harry again?
Does he have some connection to Harry's parents, and past?
First and foremost - is he evil or not?
These were the questions that were revolving in Molina's head for the past week.
Alfred exhaled. "Snape is... tough. Not because he is complex - though he is. It's more like... I don't know what face he wants to show. Or rather, which one he is okay showing."
Willem Dafoe, auditioning for Voldermart was also in a similar situation, but comparative to Alfred he was far better.
That is because he at least knew he was evil - and simply needed to build his character around it.
However, this cannot be said for Alfred as currently he doesn't know where his character Severus Snape stands.
Regal nodded, slow. "That's fair."
Willem, ever the warm presence, leaned over. "You think he is evil?"
"That's the problem." Molina said, not defensively, but honestly. "I can't tell. Every scene could go either way. I have read the book, looked at the notes Regal provided me with, and - no offense - it's all... vague."
"But if I have to point out, I don't think he is evil." Molina said without hesitation. "I think he is... angry. And careful. And proud. But I can't tell who he is loyal to."
He looked directly at Regal. "Is he a villain pretending to be decent? Or the reverse?"
Regal met his gaze, calm and unreadable. "I will explain that later...."
"Yeah, I figured." Alfred said. "I get that you are holding back. Probably a reason for it. But I don't know how much to hold back in performance. That is the line I don't want to trip over."
Alfred smiled faintly but didn't push.
He understood now - Regal was protecting something. Probably a reveal. And that meant Snape wasn't just a role. He was a ticking bomb.
Still, it was frustrating.
Dafoe at least had clarity - evil is easy to build around.
And Robin? Well, Robin had the simplest piece of the puzzle. Heart. Humanity. Hair. Maybe a few prosthetics. But his job was to feel, not scheme.
Molina glanced down at his folder again. A few notes. A half-page on Snape's teaching style.
Barely anything about Lily Potter. Nothing about his past, his goals, or his real face behind the scowl.
Still, he trusted the silence. The way Regal hadn't pushed him told him everything: you are on the list.
He would wait. He would prepare. He would ask the deeper questions in private, when the real conversations began, and when things were official.
So first, he had to get the part. Intently, he shifted slightly, cleared his throat, and leaned into the next beat of the conversation.
"Here is one thing I wanted to share." He said, voice calm and composed. "Whatever Snape's game is, he doesn't want anyone to see it. Least of all, Harry. That is the key. It's the performance inside the performance."
Regal gave him the slightest nod of approval.
And just like that, Alfred Molina - quietly, carefully - stepped into Severus Snape's shoes.
The door hadn't opened yet, but he was already standing on the other side.
.
….
[To be continued…]
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