A few days later, inside a quiet study at Buckingham Palace, Queen Elizabeth sat behind her desk with her usual regal composure. Prince Philip stood by the window, his gaze fixed intently on the distant garden.
Henry occupied a sofa to one side, flanked by his parents, while opposite them sat an elderly gentleman in a perfectly tailored yet slightly outdated dark blue suit.
His grey hair lay meticulously combed, his face calm and composed, and a pair of black-rimmed glasses rested on his nose.
Behind the lenses, dark eyes gleamed with a sharpness capable of seeing straight through any façade. This was none other than Sir Arnold Robinson, the former Cabinet Secretary and a living legend of Whitehall.
Henry understood, of course, that this world operated on layers deeper than most suspected. In a parallel timeline untouched by the Iron Lady's turbulence, Britain had welcomed its finest prime minister since the Cold War—Jim Hacker.
Yes, the very Jim Hacker from the era of Yes, Minister and Yes, Prime Minister. (NOTE: protagonist of the 1980s British political satire Yes Minister and Yes, Prime Minister As Minister for Administrative Affairs (and later Prime Minister), he constantly battles his manipulative Permanent Secretary, Sir Humphrey Appleby, aiming to make1 real changes while being thwarted by bureaucracy.)
In other words, the nation had not yet reached the diminished state where Little Britain and Northern Ireland had all but lost their unified monarchy and stood essentially powerless.
"Therefore," Sir Arnold continued in his steady, precise voice, "given that Your Highness is about to enter an unprecedented—or more accurately, unique—situation, one in which you will belong simultaneously to two worlds that have historically remained parallel yet now converge inevitably, it becomes essential to reconcile the public role conferred by constitutional monarchy with the self-contained and strictly confidential protocols of the magical realm.
This convergence introduces sensitivities still unknown within our current administrative and political framework."
Henry felt his eyes glazing over, as though they might spiral outward like the smoke from a mosquito coil. Do all civil servants favour such labyrinthine sentences?
Prince Philip gave a short snort. "Henry already has an owl; he does not need a lark."
The remark carried the perfect sting of sarcasm, implying that Sir Arnold chattered like an overly vocal bird. It suited the prince's blunt nature exactly.
"More like a navigator, Your Highness," Sir Arnold corrected smoothly. "When sailing uncharted waters, a reliable map and a guide familiar with the currents and hidden reefs greatly reduce the danger of running aground. My role is to supply background analysis and risk assessment, and, when necessary, to help Your Highness avoid hazards in the most efficient and frictionless manner possible."
Elizabeth gave a slight nod. "Sir Arnold's experience is invaluable, Henry. You will soon balance Hogwarts coursework with your ongoing preparations as heir to the throne. He will not interfere with your magical studies, yet he will serve as your advisor, assisting you in establishing a stronger position within the wizarding world."
"Where should I begin, Sir?" Henry asked. He added quickly, "Please, no long sentences, if you would be so kind."
Sir Arnold smiled faintly, withdrew a slender folder from his old briefcase, and passed it across.
"As you wish, Your Highness. First, here is my summary analysing the International Statute of Secrecy and its implementation in the United Kingdom. The focus lies on its loopholes and ambiguities, as well as the points of contention among the parties involved in any potential revisions—including the Ministry of Magic, a handful of informed high-ranking officials in our ordinary government, and even the Church. Understanding the precise boundaries of the rules is vital; it allows one to test them carefully when necessary, or at least to anticipate the consequences of any breach."
He paused briefly before continuing. "Furthermore, with Her Majesty's permission, I have accessed certain restricted materials, including the histories of several so-called wizarding pure-blood families. I have extracted details that Your Highness may find useful."
Henry accepted the folder and opened it. The first page struck him at once.
Upon investigation, the Malfoy family, a pure-blood wizarding lineage, traces its origins to the Norman Conquest. Their ancestor, Armand Malfoy (also recorded as Armand de Malfoy), served William I—William the Conqueror—during the Norman invasion of 1066, accompanying the army into Britain.
In recognition of that service, the Crown, following feudal custom, granted the family lands in Wiltshire. This grant appears in the Domesday Book and supporting local archives, providing early legal proof of the family's historic holdings in England.
The title has passed through inheritance and transfer and is currently registered to Lucius Malfoy, whose legal ownership can be verified through the present land registry system.
This record, drawn from historical archives, conforms fully to the publicly verifiable procedures of feudal grants and inheritance.
(From Pottermore, J.K. Rowling's official setting, not a fanfiction.)
'Oh dear…' Henry thought. Haha! He had never expected this. The Malfoy family, who so loudly proclaimed the supremacy of pure blood, had actually arrived with William the Conqueror into the heart of England.
"Sir Arnold," Diana spoke up suddenly, "what is this Domesday Book? Why does it record land grants?"
Sir Arnold's glasses caught the light as he explained calmly, "The Domesday Book is a nationwide land census compiled in 1086 on the orders of William I. The survey aimed to record systematically the distribution and composition of royal lands and the estates of his direct vassals. It was conducted throughout the realm by churchmen and secular feudal lords appointed by the king, registering and verifying details of land ownership, asset types, and the identity of those who worked the soil. The completed survey was bound into a book and named the Domesday Book, signifying the finality and authority of its contents—like a record of the last judgment, beyond dispute."
Henry studied the document in his hands and shook his head.
"What is it, Henry?" Charles asked, concern edging his voice.
"Nothing, Father," Henry replied with a smile. "I simply did not expect that the so-called glory of pure blood rested on nothing more than successful political opportunism nine hundred years ago. This path to power differs little from the rise of countless ancient families in the ordinary world those pure-bloods so disdain."
"Furthermore," he added, looking across at the older man, "this is exceptionally useful information, Sir Arnold."
Sir Arnold inclined his head, a subtle gleam of approval in his eyes—the quiet recognition of a promising young man.
"Distance stems from the unknown, Your Highness. And the unknown often breeds misunderstanding or blind obedience. One of my responsibilities is to equip you with sufficient known facts so that you may maintain the clear mind of an observer in any situation, rather than being drawn into the preconceived narratives of those with ulterior motives."