A few days later, in one of the studies at Buckingham Palace.
Elizabeth sat behind the desk, while Philip stood by the window, gazing deeply into the distant garden.
Henry sat on one side of the sofa, with his parents seated on either side of him.
Opposite them sat an elderly man wearing a perfectly tailored but somewhat old-fashioned dark blue suit.
His gray-white hair was combed impeccably.
His expression was calm and composed, and a pair of black-framed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose.
His eyes were a deep color behind the lenses, and his sharp gaze seemed capable of seeing straight through a person’s heart.
He was none other than the former Cabinet Secretary, a legend of Whitehall, Sir Arnold Robinson.
Henry naturally knew that this world was not simple.
In this parallel world where the Iron Lady had never gone around making a mess of things, Britain had welcomed the best prime minister it had seen since the Cold War—Jim Hacker.
Yes, the very same Jim Hacker from Yes, Minister and Yes, Prime Minister.
In other words, Britain would not be descending anytime soon into that little Britain where the United Kingdom was barely united, Northern Ireland nearly disappeared from the equation, and the monarchy had been stripped of its real power.
“…Therefore, considering the unprecedented circumstances His Royal Highness is about to find himself in—or, more accurately, the unique situation of simultaneously belonging to two worlds that have historically maintained a cautious parallel relationship but are now inevitably destined to intersect—it is necessary to continuously reconcile and embody the public role bestowed upon the Crown by constitutional tradition with the self-contained and strictly confidential operating rules of the magical realm, as well as the sensitive considerations that may arise from what remains an unknown field within the existing administrative and political framework…”
Arnold’s voice was steady and clear.
“I believe it is of vital importance, and would serve as a forward-looking risk-mitigation measure, to provide His Royal Highness with an advisor who not only understands the daily workings of Whitehall, but also possesses a thorough understanding of the true nature of its power—the actual gears and levers that drive decision-making—rather than someone concerned merely with ceremonial matters and superficial procedures.”
Henry was getting a taste of the treatment Jim Hacker had endured.
He felt as though his eyes were about to spin into spirals.
Do all civil servants like speaking in ridiculously long sentences?
Prince Philip snorted.
“Henry already has an owl. He doesn’t need another lark.”
What he meant was that Sir Arnold was a noisy lark.
It certainly fit his blunt personality.
“More like a navigator, Your Royal Highness,” Arnold corrected him.
“When sailing through uncharted waters, a good map and a guide familiar with the currents and reefs can greatly reduce the risk of running aground. My role is to provide background analysis and risk assessments, and, when necessary, advise Your Royal Highness on how to avoid certain dangers in the most effective manner with the least possible friction.”
Elizabeth nodded slightly.
“Sir Arnold’s experience is invaluable, Henry. You will be facing both your studies at Hogwarts and the ongoing preparation required of an heir to the throne. Sir Arnold will not interfere with your magical education, but he will serve as your advisor and help you establish yourself more effectively in the magical world.”
“Where should I begin, Sir?” Henry asked.
The moment he finished asking, he felt compelled to add another sentence.
“Please don’t use long sentences. Thank you.”
Arnold smiled gently.
He took a thin folder from the old briefcase he carried with him and handed it over.
“As you wish, Your Royal Highness… First, this is a summary of my analysis of the International Confederation of Wizards’ Statute of Secrecy and the specific regulations governing its implementation in Britain. The focus is on its loopholes and areas of ambiguity, as well as the points of contention among the various parties during its successive revisions, including the Ministry of Magic, the small number of senior officials within our Muggle government who are aware of its existence, and even the Church. Understanding the boundaries of the rules allows us to know how to test them cautiously when necessary, or at the very least, understand the consequences of violating them.”
He paused for a moment before continuing.
“In addition, with Her Majesty’s permission, I have been able to consult certain confidential records, including the histories of several so-called ‘pure-blood families’ among wizards. I have selected some information that may be useful to Your Royal Highness. You may find it of use.”
Henry took the folder from Sir Arnold.
When he opened it, the very first piece of information struck him like a blow to the head.
“After verification, the lineage of the wizarding pure-blood Malfoy Family can be traced back to the Norman Conquest.
The family’s ancestor, Armand Malfoy (also recorded as Armand de Malfoy), provided military or other forms of service to William I, also known as William the Conqueror, during the Norman Conquest of 1066 and entered Britain with his forces.
“In recognition of his service, a royal authority granted the family a tract of land in Wiltshire in accordance with the feudal customs of the time.
The grant is also recorded in the Domesday Book and related local archives and may be regarded as an early legal basis for the family’s historical landholdings in England. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
“The ownership of the estate has passed through inheritance and transfer over the centuries and is currently registered to Lucius Malfoy.
Its legal ownership status can be verified through the current land registration system.
“This record is based on a compilation of historical archives and conforms to the publicly verifiable procedures governing feudal grants and inheritance.”
Oh?
Well, well!
Who would have thought?
The Malfoy family, which had always gone around shouting about the supremacy of pure-bloods, had actually entered Britain alongside William the Conqueror…
“Sir Arnold.” Diana suddenly spoke.
“What exactly is the Domesday Book? Why would it contain records of land grants?”
A glint flashed across Sir Arnold’s glasses as he calmly began to explain.
“The Domesday Book is a nationwide land survey compiled in 1086 on the orders of William I. The purpose of the survey was to systematically record the distribution and composition of royal estates and the lands belonging to the Crown’s direct vassals. Ecclesiastical and secular feudal lords appointed by the king carried out the survey throughout the country, comprehensively registering and verifying information such as land ownership, the nature of assets, and the identities of those cultivating the land. The compiled results were preserved in the form of a ledger and named the Domesday Book, signifying the finality and authority of the records it contained, much like a record of the Final Judgment, and therefore beyond dispute.”
Henry looked at the document in his hands and shook his head.
“What’s wrong, Henry?” Charles asked beside him with concern.
“Nothing, Father.” Henry smiled.
“I just didn’t expect the so-called ‘glory of pure blood’ to be founded on nothing more than a successful act of political opportunism from over nine hundred years ago. Their rise is fundamentally no different from the rise of countless ancient families in the ordinary human world they look down upon.”
“Also…” Henry looked at the elderly man across from him.
“Very useful information, Sir Arnold.”
Sir Arnold nodded slightly, a restrained look of approval on his face, as though pleased that his student was catching on.
“Distance comes from the unknown, Your Royal Highness. And the unknown often breeds misunderstanding or blind obedience. One of my responsibilities is to provide you with enough knowledge of what is known so that, in any situation, you can maintain the clear mind of an observer rather than becoming trapped within someone else’s carefully constructed narrative.”