A/N: A gentle reminder…In my playland, Harry turns 17 in 2006, rather than 1997. Thanks for reading, and please review.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no profit being made, objects viewed may be closer then they appear.
Chapter 2 - An Unexpected Meeting
The port key dropped Harry Potter onto the pine-needle covered ground of a small glade. He immediately crouched into a defensive posture, but saw no threats and sensed no magic. The only movement Harry noticed was a small van driving along a paved road some 50 meters away. Taking in the sights, smells the weather, he guessed that he wasn't very far from Hogwarts.
Harry looked down at the sword he still held in his left hand. He swung his rucksack off his shoulder and sheathed the blade in one of the expandable pockets, leaving the ruby-encrusted hilt out for quick retrieval. With his rucksack re-shouldered and wand still in hand, Harry cautiously walked towards the road. Looking in the direction the delivery van had traveled, he saw the road disappear around a curve. Looking up the road, Harry saw a wrought-iron gate and guardhouse about 100 meters distant. Two men dressed in dark suits and sunglasses stood on either side of the gate.
They appeared far too well-dressed to be wizards in muggle clothing, and rather than wands, Harry saw one man using a hand-held radio; the other held a clipboard. Taking a leap of faith in Dumbledore's plans, Harry left his cloak pocketed and carefully walked out onto the road.
The men watched him silently as he approached the gate. When he got within a few meters, one of the men called out, "You wouldn't happen to be Harry Potter, would you?"
Harry nodded. The man talked into his radio, and the gate slowly opened. Gesturing towards a white Land-Rover parked on the inside of the gate, he said, "This way, sir. They are expected you up at the castle."
+++++++++++++
It was a quiet ten minutes drive up to the building that the guard had called "The Castle." Frankly, it didn't look like much of a castle to Harry, at least when compared to Hogwarts. It was big, and built of stone, but only one tower rose from the main building, and its ramparts were only a few stories taller than the building itself.
Based on their approach, Harry guessed that the port key had delivered him to a side entrance of the estate. A much larger road approached the building from its front, and Harry could see many parked vehicles there. There were people milling about, and it almost looked like they were standing in line to board some type of tractor-pulled tram. The only other time Harry had seen anything like this was when his Aunt and Uncle took him to the zoo with Dudley. He smiled to himself when he thought about that day, when he learned that he could talk with snakes and when Dudley learned that he should have brought a change of pants.
The Land-Rover pulled up to the side of the building, away from the crowds, and Harry was shown inside. The entry hall was bright and cheery. Large landscape paintings set in heavy wood frames hung on walls dressed in gold wallpaper and trimmed in white wood. The furniture had overstuffed cushions upholstered in pastel floral prints, and flower arrangements were strewn about.
Although he had never been there, Harry imagined that Hufflepuff's common room could look like this, except for the fact that this was obviously a muggle residence. No creatures were bounding across the oil paintings of wooded landscapes, no fire was lit in the fireplace for floo travel, and the heads mounted on the walls of the staircase landing belonged to antelopes, rather than to retired house elves.
Harry was led up the stairs and down the landing to another set of stairs that hugged the walls of what must have been the tower he'd earlier seen. The stairway ended in a room that looked much more Gryffindorish than Hufflepuffian. Pieces of walnut and leather furniture were grouped about the room. A large stone fireplace set within one wall contained a modest fire that looked more ornamental than functional. The unlit torches held in sconces along the stone walls also appeared decorative, given the brass floor lamps that were scattered about, and a large, ornate chandelier overhead.
Long narrow windows set within the opposite wall allowed the sun to cast bright rectangular patches of light onto the ornate Oriental rug that covered the stone floor. A tallish man wearing a brown tweed jacket was looking out one of these windows, with his back turned to Harry. Harry noticed that the window the man stood in front of provided a glimpse of heath-strewn hills.
Harry tried, but failed, to detect any sense of magic within the room. The man who had escorted Harry into the entrance way cleared his throat and announced, just before leaving, "Your Highness, may I present to you Mister Harry Potter."
The man in the tweed jacket turned towards Harry and strode across the room with his hand outstretched.
"Mister Potter, welcome to Balmoral."
Harry instantly recognized the man's face from a certain portrait that had hung on the wall of his primary school classroom. From all appearances, Harry had just been introduced to the future King of England.
He cautiously held out his right hand and gave the man a handshake that was somewhere between firm and tentative in strength. "It's a pleasure to you,…your… your Highness."
The middle-aged man took a step back, as if to allow Harry the chance to take some measure of the person he had just met.
"Mister Potter, you likely have a million questions running through your mind, right now, am I right?"
Harry, who in fact had only time to process a few hundred questions since his introduction, could do little more than nod.
"Well, my young man, given what I understand you recently been through, I'm not surprised, and not in the least offended by your caution. Allow me to suggest we have a seat by the fire."
Harry was guided towards two high-backed chairs near the fireplace. The man that had shown Harry into the room reappeared with a tray that held a silver pitcher and two glasses of iced pumpkin juice.
"Pumpkin juice?" - that silent two-worded question jumped to the front of the line of the questions currently dancing in Harry's head.
"Thank you, Hawksworth, you may go," said Harry's companion, and the two were soon left alone before the fire.
"Please Mr. Potter, have something to drink. I can't promise you that it will taste as good as what they serve at Hogwarts, but I've been told that my cook's recipe is fairly close."
Mention of the word "Hogwarts" put Harry immediately back on the defensive…just how would the Prince of Wales know anything about Hogwarts? Harry refocused his senses on the man and surroundings, but still could not detect the presence of magic.
Harry cautiously chose a glass, but made no effort to raise it to his lips. The man reached down and picked up the other glass and took a long drink. "Please, Mr. Potter, I'm not trying to poison you."
Harry nodded slightly as he watched the man take another drink from his glass.
"If I were in your shoes, Mr. Potter, I would be desperately looking for the answers to a few key questions. Namely, `Am I really the Prince of Wales and if I am how do I know about Hogwarts?' Not to mention the question of why you are here and whether or not you can trust me. How am I doing?"
Harry maintained his gaze. "Pretty well on the mark on all four, I think."
"I see." The man finished his drink and set the glass on the tray in front of him. "Mr. Potter, I wish I had more time to gain your confidence, but we have some critical issues to discuss before your departure for London. Allow me, then, to try to allay whatever fears you might have of my intentions."
The man opened the left side of his jacket and very slowly reached into an interior pocket, allowing Harry to see him retrieve a brown leather billfold. He pulled out what appeared to be small, dog-eared photograph. As he passed it to Harry, he said two simple words in a near-whisper.
"Acid pops."
Shocked, Harry looked down to see a magical image of the Prince with his arm around the shoulder of Albus Dumbledore, who appeared to be laughing.
"Yes, Harry, I knew Albus Dumbledore. He has been a friend of my family for as long as I can remember, and I was proud to call him a personal friend to the handful of people in both our worlds that I could trust with that secret."
The Prince shifted in his seat as he pulled on the front seams of his trouser legs. He gazed into the fire for a few quiet seconds before reaching over and refilling his glass. He then stood up and looked straight at Harry.
"Mr. Potter, it is a tradition in my family that any glass used to make an important toast never be used again." Harry realized what was being said, rose from his chair, and raised his glass.
"To Albus Dumbledore," said the Prince. "If his presence enriches the next world even half as much as his life enriched our own, then it truly deserves to be called Heaven."
"To Albus Dumbledore," Harry whispered.
The thrown crystal shattered against the back of the hearth, and Harry began to sob.
And the man thought by most royal watchers to have all the warmth and compassion of your average puddle of mud stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the teen. "I know, Harry" he said softly. "I know."
++++++++++++++++
After a few minutes, the Prince led Harry back down to the main floor and out into a garden located at the rear of the building. The fresh air and bright sunlight helped the men regain most of their composure. They walked down a limestone-block pathway, each with arms held behind them.
"Harry," the Prince asked, "over the years Albus has told me much about you, and your progress at Hogwarts. Did you know that he considered you to be the son he never had?"
Harry's mind raced, as he thought back to that awful night, as he stood immobilized and watched his mentor's body tumble over the Astronomy Tower's restraining wall.
Harry reached into his pocket and tightly grasped the fake locket for which Dumbledore had sacrificed his strength and his life. Once again he felt a sense of great failure, hopelessness, and all-consuming fear of facing Voldemort without Dumbledore there to guide him.
"Harry, you know I too am trying to come to grips with Dumbledore's death. I wish I had been able to attend his funeral, but you can imagine the…the logistics… that would have been involved."
Harry nodded. "How did you know about the funeral…how did you know that Dumbledore had died?"
Without looking, the Prince reached into a coat pocket and pulled out a phoenix feather that he slowly twisted in his fingers. "I've been up from London for the past week doing some fly fishing and planning for mum's summer residency. Four nights ago I heard the cry of a phoenix, and then Fawkes appeared at my bedroom window. And I knew. As for the funeral, well, Harry…let me just say that many in your world would be shocked at just how much a few of us muggles know about them."
Harry's eyes went wide as the Prince tossed out the word "muggle" as if they were conversing at Hogwarts Castle, rather than Balmoral Castle. How much did he really know?
"Muggle, sir?" he asked.
The Prince looked at Harry with a crooked smile. "Yes, I know about your world, and I know just what some in your world think of us non-magical folks…."
"And what is that, sir?"
The Prince paused for a moment. "Harry, have you any idea how many titles I currently hold?"
Harry looked up and shook his head.
"Wouldn't imagine you would. Frankly, I have problems remembering all myself… Let's see. I am the Prince of Wales, the Prince and Great Steward of Scotland, the Duke of Cornwall, Duke of Rothesay, Earl of Carrick, Earl of Chester, Lord of Renfrew, and…" The Prince look down at his fingers and counted as he mouthed through the list again, "Oh yes, Lord of the Isles…although I sometimes also fancy myself the Lord of the Dance, but only when I'm not in public."
Harry laughed out loud as the Prince did a little jig.
"Ah, that's more like it, son," the Prince said. "But, I am also painfully aware of the fact that I am heir to the muggle throne, and future King of muggle England. You have to admit, the word "muggle"does trip off the tongue a whole lot easier than "non-magical" or "non-wizard."
The Prince glanced down at his watch. "Oh, look at the time. Harry, you do need to be in London tonight. Will you let me to ramble a bit upon why you are here?"
Harry nodded.
"Right. Well, then. Harry, I know that you are fighting against a dark wizard. I know that if this dark wizard…Voldemort, correct?…that if this dark wizard and his forces win that the results would be disastrous not only in your world, but in mine. I know that this war has already resulted in the deaths of many muggles by events that have been mistakenly labeled as natural disasters, or accidents, or terrorist acts.
Harry, I'm not sure if you are aware of the fact, but the British Prime Minister has been in consultation with Scrimgeour, your Minister of Magic, concerning this situation. However, from what Dumbledore had shared with me, I suspect that your Ministry has severely underrepresented how dire things really are. Frankly, Albus didn't have much faith in your Ministry as a whole, and in this Scrimgeour chap in particular. I believe that this is an attitude that you share, am I right?"
Harry smiled with agreement.
"Well… Albus was convinced that the best hope for both our worlds lay not within the Ministry of Magic, but within the hands of you and your young friends. In fact, he had great confidence in your ability to rise to this challenge."
Harry once again cringed with self-doubt and guilt.
"You must realize, Harry, that Dumbledore shared all this with me for a reason…he was convinced that some key part of your success in the battle with Voldemort would come not by what you have learned at Hogwarts, but from what you might learn in the muggle world."
Harry pondered over what within the muggle world could possibly help him battle Voldemort.
The Prince broke Harry's thoughts. "Harry, Dumbledore asked that I help you during your stay on our side of the fence. I am not certain how I can help you, although I have a few ideas. Ultimately, though, that will be for you to decide. Also, Albus wanted any knowledge of my help be kept closely held. You see, our Prime Minister doesn't know about my family's connection to Dumbledore, and I'm not sure that he knows anything about you. Unless, of course, your Minister of Magic has mentioned your heroic efforts during their meetings?"
"Oh, I doubt that very much, your Highness."
"Right, then. I'll leave it for you to decide whom within the wizarding community you can trust. On my end, I have asked a few close friends to provide their assistance on my behalf; you'll know them as you learned to trust me. Rest assured they will do whatever they can to provide you with whatever you need. And if they can't help you for some reason, these might come in handy."
The Prince handed Harry a small wireless telephone and a folded piece of parchment. "The note informs the reader that you are on Queen's business, and are to be provided whatever assistance might be available. Comes in handy if you want to skiv out of a traffic infraction, amongst other things. Just keep it safe in your wallet."
"Um…I'm sorry, your Highness, but I don't have a wallet."
"What? Well, then," said the Prince, "take mine." He handed Harry the brown leather billfold.
"Oh, sir, that's quite alright, I can get one…"
"Really, Harry, just take it. It's not like you have lots of free time to go shopping, and Lord knows I seldom have the chance to use it myself…hard for me to just pop down to the pub to buy a few pints."
Harried thanked the prince and placed the note inside the wallet.
"You'll notice," said the Prince, "that I only have a few hundred pounds in there…but the charge cards might come in handy. I'll have you authorized before you leave today."
"Thank you, sir, but money is the one thing I don't really think I need help with."
"Ah, Dumbledore mentioned that. But he also said something about the advantages of not having to run down to your bank whenever you needed a spot of cash. He also feared that there may come the day when you were blocked from gaining access to your wizard money."
Harry thought about the goblins, about whether they would ever be tempted to join Voldemort's side, and nodded.
"The telephone has an untraceable number. Don't worry about going over on minutes, and if you need to contact me directly just hit Speed Dial 1 or text me."
"I'm sorry, sir, but what is speed dial? And how exactly would I `text' you?"
The Prince laughed.
"Oh my goodness…a teenager that doesn't know how to text message?" he asked.
"Harry Potter, you truly do live in a different world."
-->