Midday — Mid-Wilshire Police Station
The clock on the wall read 12:11 when the flow of the police station shifted gears.
The brisk pace of the morning gave way to the informal break that no one officially called lunch, but everyone respected as sacred.
Patrol cars returned one by one.
Doors slammed.
Vests were loosened.
The smell of food began to compete with that of stale coffee and paper.
In the mini-kitchen, now known as the makeshift meeting point, were Angela Lopez, Tim Bradford, Talia Bishop, Sergeant Wade Grey and, a few seconds later, Harry Potter.
Each with something different in hand: fast food bags, lunch boxes, oversized coffee.
Angela sat on the edge of the table, opening a package of Chinese food.
“I saw Ryan Gosling yesterday,” she said, as if commenting on the weather.
Tim looked up immediately.
— Lies.
— I swear.
— Angela replied.
— At the market.
Buying cereal.
Wade let out a short laugh.
— That’s so Los Angeles.
— he commented.
— The guy makes million-dollar movies and still spends fifteen minutes comparing boxes of Cheerios.
Talia leaned against the counter.
— I almost crashed my car once because Idris Elba crossed the street in front of me.
— she said, completely serious.
Tim’s eyes widened.
— You almost ran over Idris Elba?!
— Almost.
— she confirmed.
— He apologized to me.
— I’d never get over that.
— Tim murmured.
Harry entered the kitchen at that moment, having only heard the end of the conversation.
— I’m afraid to ask… — he said.
Angela smiled.
— Theme of the day: random celebrities you find on the streets of LA.
Harry tilted his head.
“Ah,” he said.
“That classic.”
Wade pointed his fork at him.
“Come on, Potter,” he said.
“You live here now.
You must have seen someone famous.”
Harry opened his water bottle thoughtfully.
“In LA?” he asked.
“No, I don’t think so.”
Tim frowned.
“What do you mean ‘I think’?”
“I mean…” Harry replied, “maybe I saw someone and didn’t recognize them.”
Angela laughed.
“That’s so you.”
Talia crossed her arms.
“I saw Lady Gaga once,” she said, “wearing a huge sweatshirt and flip-flops.
Nobody noticed.”
Wade shook his head.
“That’s the benefit of LA,” he commented.
“Celebrities can just be… people.”
Tim took a bite of his sandwich.
“I saw Denzel Washington in a bookstore,” he said.
“He was arguing with the clerk about military biographies.” “This is a perfect match,” Angela commented.
The atmosphere was light.
Normal.
One of those rare moments when no one was talking about incidents, protocols, or reports.
Then Wade looked at Harry again.
“And you?” he insisted.
“Never bumped into anyone famous?”
Harry thought for a moment.
“Not the kind you’re thinking of,” he said.
Angela looked up from her plate, already suspicious.
“Here we go.”
“Not in LA,” Harry continued.
“But…” he paused briefly, “I’m friends with the British royal family.”
The silence wasn’t immediate.
It was gradual.
Tim was chewing when he froze.
Talia blinked once.
Then again.
Wade stopped stirring his coffee.
Angela was the only one who didn’t react—she just kept eating, as if it were already filed away in her mind.
“…Sorry,” Tim said.
“Repeat that.”
Harry sighed, resigned.
“I’m a friend of the British royal family,” he repeated.
“More specifically… Prince William.”
The sound of a microwave finishing its cycle was too loud at that moment.
“You…” Talia began, “Prince William?”
“Yes,” Harry confirmed.
Wade let out an incredulous laugh.
“No.
No, no,” he said.
“You can’t just drop that in the middle of lunch.”
Angela finally looked up.
“He already told me,” she said casually.
Everyone turned to her.
“What?!” Tim and Wade said almost simultaneously.
Angela shrugged.
“Mexican food truck,” she explained.
“It came with tacos and historical context.”
Talia closed her eyes for a second.
“Of course it did.”
Tim pointed at Harry.
“You’re telling me that…” he took a deep breath, “I patrolled with someone who’s a personal friend of the heir to the British throne.”
“Yes,” Harry replied.
“Technically.”
“Technically?!” Wade repeated.
Harry tilted his head.
“His family has had ties to mine for centuries,” he explained.
“Historical relations with the British monarchy.
Nothing recent.”
“Centuries,” Talia murmured.
“Great.”
Harry continued, now in the calm, explanatory way everyone knew him.
“Furthermore,” he said, “I worked for many years in security and operations directly linked to the royal family.
Events, relocations, delicate situations.”
Tim rested his hands on the table.
“So you not only know William…”
“I worked with him,” Harry corrected.
“In specific contexts.”
“That doesn’t make it any better!” Tim replied.
Angela laughed.
“I told you his resume was strange.”
Wade ran a hand over his face.
“You were at his wedding,” he said, more as if to affirm.
“Yes,” Harry replied.
“William and Catherine’s.”
The silence that followed was absolute.
“Okay,” Talia said finally.
“That officially surpassed any celebrity story I had.”
Tim let out a humorless laugh.
“I thought it was amazing to see Denzel Washington in a bookstore,” he said.
“Now it seems… pathetic.”
Harry smiled innocently.
“To be fair,” he said, “he seems to be a great reader.”
Angela shook her head, amused.
“The strangest thing about all this…” she commented, “is that you talk as if you were describing a college classmate.”
“Because that’s how I see it,” Harry replied.
“People first.
Titles later.”
Wade crossed his arms.
“You realize this isn’t normal, right?”
“I do,” Harry said.
“That’s why I don’t usually comment.”
Talia tilted her head.
“And you…” he asked “do you still prefer food truck tacos to formal dinners?”
Harry smiled.
“Without hesitation.”
Angela raised her glass.
“That’s what convinces me most that you’re real.”
Tim took a deep breath, looking at Harry with a mixture of disbelief and respect.
“You’ve been to palaces, royal weddings, secret operations…” he said, “and yet you’re still surprised when someone calls you ‘Sir.'”
“Because here,” Harry replied, “it doesn’t matter.”
Wade nodded slowly.
“I understand that.”
Angela pointed her fork at Harry.
“But just to be clear…” she said, “if Prince William ever shows up in Mid-Wilshire…”
“I’ll let you know.” Harry replied immediately.
“Great.” Tim said.
“I want to be off work.”
Laughter filled the kitchen.
For a few minutes, the conversation dissolved into jokes, absurd comparisons, speculations about who would be stranger to meet on the street: a famous actor or a member of royalty.
When lunch ended and everyone began to disperse, Angela lingered a little behind with Harry.
“Thank you for saying that in front of them,” she said.
“I know it’s not easy.”
Harry shrugged.
“It’s easier when people already know I don’t use that as a bargaining chip.”
She smiled.
“You’re exactly where you should be.”
Harry looked around: the small kitchen, the worn tables, the distant noise of the police station coming back to life.
“For the first time…” he said, “I know that.”
They left together, returning to work.
And, as the door closed behind them, it became increasingly clear to everyone in Mid-Wilshire:
Harry Potter could have met kings, princes, and queens.
But he chose, every day, to simply be a police officer sharing stories over lunch.
And that said more about him than any title ever could.
pat/SHADOWGHOST07
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