The visitor sat on a regency chair in the cool library gazing at the rows and rows of shelves, crammed with leather-bound books.

He looked about eighteen or nineteen, was thin and pale - almost scrawny - and wore a sweatshirt reading Hogwarts School of Magic & Wizardry Class of 2007 and skinny jeans. His pitch-black hair framed a slender, almost schoolboyish face and he had bright green eyes under round, old-fashioned glasses. Hughes, the royal butler, stood behind his chair, holding the young man’s rucksack.

When King Godfrey and Queen Letitia entered the room, the young man rose and gave an awkward bow. Godfrey motioned for him to be seated and led his wife to the sofa.

“Now then,” Godfrey said, “I believe you want to buy one of our books.”

“Yes, please Your Majesty,” the young man said.

Godfrey smiled hesitantly and Letitia glowered in irritation. When the visitor’s arrival had been announced, she was in the middle of giving her husband a lecture on spending too much time out hunting with his nobles and wanted to continue nagging him.

“Young man, what you ask is impossible,” she said. “All our books are part of the palace and its treasures. They are definitely not for sale. So if you wouldn’t mind leaving us,my husband and I have -"

“Hold your horses, my dear,” Godfrey cut in. He knew the longer he could keep the young man in the library, the better his chances were of avoiding a bitter scolding. “Why don’t we hear what the young man has to say?”

Turning to the youth he said “Tell me, why do you want the book?”

“Um, because it will show me and my friends a magic route to a secret place I have to visit.”

“And where is that?” Godfrey asked.

“The Caves of Desire,” the youth said.

Both monarchs burst out laughing.

“We Mellorians aren’t even sure if these caves exist,” Godfrey chuckled. “Legends say they are full of strange beings, but the legends are very ancient and they’re hard to believe.”

“That’s because you’re Muggles!” the young man blurted out.

“Because we’re what?”

Letitia leaned forward and scrutinized the young man’s face. She noticed a faint zigzag scar on his forehead.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude,” the youth said, blushing. “It was force of habit.”

Letitia was convinced she’d seen or heard of the young man somewhere. It was either some book she’d read or...

“Tell me your name,” she said.

The young man smiled in wary acknowledgment.

“The name’s Potter, Harry Potter,” he said.

“I know you from somewhere, don’t I?” Letitia asked.

Harry’s smile broadened. “You may have read about me or seen me in a movie - or eight,” he said with a stab at modesty.

“Yes, and now I know you’re a phony!” Letitia cried. “You didn’t say the name right, did you?”

“I beg your pardon?” Harry looked confused.

“The book I read was about a boy who  finds a magic potion in his teacher’s desk, drinks it and finds he can do things like drive his dad’s car at night, fight bigger boys than himself and jump off high walls without fear of injuring himself. And the boy’s name wasn’t Potter!”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Godfrey said, totally bemused.

The book was called Barry Trotter and the Magic of Alcohol,” Letitia exclaimed.

Harry gave a derisive snicker.

“That book sounds like a cheap knock-off,” he said.

“It was actually quite interesting,” Letitia said. “Although the second book in the series, Barry Trotter and the Magic of Ecstasy, was less enjoyable. It seems he had to keep taking these tablets to give him the courage to defeat his arch-enemy Foll-Dee-Roll. The books were written by somebody called Deep Rolling.”

By now Harry was shaking with laughter, while Godfrey looked more and more confused.

“Clearly somebody’s been ripping you Mellorians off,” Harry said. “My name’s definitely Potter and the woman who wrote about me is called Rowling, not Rolling. As for my enemy, Voldemort was his name. But he’s dead now.”

“Anyway,” Letitia said, starting to feel embarrassed, “whether your name’s Trotter or Potter, we can’t sell you any of our books. None of them are magical books.”

But you’re Muggles, you see - “ Harry began, then backtracked as he realized his mistake. “I mean, the book I’m looking for won’t look magical. It’ll seem very ordinary - like a car manual.”

Godfrey laughed lightly. “Our chauffeur keeps all those in his garage,” he said. “The books in our library are all old - dealing with Mellorian culture and history. You’re welcome to browse them, as long as you replace them in their proper spots.”

Letitia glowered at Godfrey. She didn’t approve of letting this young man with the doubtful name roam freely about the library pulling out books.

Harry got up and began scanning the shelves. Letitia watched him while Godfrey chatted to Hughes the butler.

“What have you got there, Hughes?”

“The young man’s bag, Your Majesty,” Hughes replied. “We had to search it for security reasons and we found these things inside.”

Godfrey looked at the contents of the rucksack that the servant had laid out on the table.

Quite interesting, he thought, a quill pen, some parchment, a long black cloak and a cherry wand.

“I see you have a conjurer’s wand, Mr Potter. Do you do magic tricks?”

Harry, who had been periodically scratching the scar on his forehead, looked up from the shelf he’d been searching.

“Do I ever!”

“I once wrote to the authoress of the books about you, Mr Trotter,” Letitia said to change the subject away from magic, “‘Dear Deep,’ I wrote, ‘how on earth do you manage to dream up such weird fantasies?’ She never sent me a reply.”

“This is the one!” Harry shouted. He stooped and pried out a book from a bottom shelf. ”Yes, this is it. How much do you want for it?”

Godfrey and Letitia both laughed.

“There’s no point you offering us money for this book, Mr Trotter,” Letitia said. “As I said, these books are not for sale.”

“First off, my name’s Potter,” Harry said, a tad irritated. “Second of all, this book will help me keep a promise I made to my late headmaster, Professor Dumbledore. Oh god, how I miss him!”

He suddenly sank his head in his hands and gave a loud, anguished sigh. Godfrey was quite moved, and touched Harry’s knee lightly.

“Now, now, Mr Potter. If we can help you, we will. It’s just that these books are part of Mellorian tradition and we can’t part with them easily.”

“We can’t part with them at all!” Letitia corrected him loudly.

Look,” Harry said, his eyes brimming with tears, “I know it’s hard for you Muggles to understand - “

“That’s another thing that’s not right,” Letitia cut in. “In the Barry Trotter books, we non-wizards are called Muddles, not Muggles.”

“I don’t care!” Harry cried. “Ruddy hell, this is like having teeth pulled.”

He looked from the king to the queen, searching for some sympathy. A glimmer of hope crossed his brow.

“If I show you what a wizard can do, will you consider letting me buy this?”

Letitia turned to Godfrey impatiently. “Well, have we heard enough? Shall we have Hughes escort him to the palace gates?”

“Not quite..,” Godfrey said. “Let’s have a look at this book that Mr Potter’s so keen on.” He took the heavy volume from Harry. Opening it drew a cloud of dust from its antique pages. When the dust had settled, he peered at the strange cuneiform on the pages.

“This is written in Old Mellorian, an extinct language. Only a scholar could decipher it.”

“We wizards have a way of deciphering things,” Harry said.

“Show us!” Letitia said sharply.

Harry hesitated a moment. “Revello!” he said, pointing at a page of the book.

Godfrey looked and saw what looked like a tiny map appear on the page. “It’s a map of Mania where the church of Our Lady of Mania is located.”

“You see,” Harry said, “there’s more to the book than meets the eye. Each page has a secret clue to help us find the caves.”

“All right, Mr Potter. Show us your best trick and we’ll consider letting you have the book,” Godfrey said.

Letitia gasped.

Harry rubbed his chin. “Okay, watch this.”

He began rummaging in the empty rucksack, reaching to its depths. Godfrey, Letitia and Hughes watched his arm sink to the armpit, and they gasped as he pulled out a gilt-framed mirror, easily as big as the bag itself.

“That’s the best bit of conjuring I’ve ever seen,” Godfrey said.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Harry replied.

“What exactly is that mirror?” Godfrey inquired.

“It’s an enchanted mirror like the one my godfather gave me,” Harry said with a catch in his throat.

Harry propped the mirror against the side of the table and they all watched as he took his wand and pointed it at the mirror.

“Let’s see if I can remember this one,” he said and uttered the word “Startupio!”

The mirror’s bright surface turned dull and cloudy. Then the clouds cleared and Harry’s heart missed a beat. A much-loved, long-bearded face smiled at him.

“Professor Dumbledore!”

“The very same, Harry. It’s wonderful to see you again - and to see your royal hosts.” The sonorous voice held them all spellbound.

“Who’s that?” Godfrey asked in a hushed voice.

“My old headmaster.”

“Is he a wizard?”

“He’s the best,” Harry said

The sonorous voice continued. “Let me explain to Your Majesties why Harry must have this book. After he left Hogwarts school, he decided to go backpacking around the world with his two best friends, to fulfill a promise he made to me. They will visit the most magical and sometimes dangerous places where wizardry is practiced, to improve their art, and the Caves of Desire are high on their list.”

“I see...” Godfrey whispered. Letitia looked completely baffled.

“So it would be a great favor to me if you would let Harry have this book..,” Dumbledore said, smiling. Then to Harry, he said: “Look closely, Harry, all those who have passed over are here. Those you loved and those you didn’t. That doesn’t matter to us.” He chuckled. “Over here there is no evil and no enemies.”

At that, he stepped aside and Harry gasped at the people who were greeting him with warm smiles: his parents, James and Lily Potter, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, Fred Weasley and Ted Tonks, Bathilda Bagshot, old Mad-Eye, his eye now restored, Gregorovitch the wand maker. Dead enemies appeared, along with the now-redeemed Severus Snape: Dolores Umbrage, Mundungus Fletcher, Bellatrix Lestrange, even Voldemort - no longer snake-faced but looking more like a radiant king cobra - smiled and waved at him. Finally, Dumbledore appeared.

“We are leaving now, Harry. But we all look forward to seeing you, Ron and Hermione before too long.”

The image faded and the mirror resumed its glassy blandness.

Harry’s jubilation at seeing his old headmaster and his parents could hardly be contained. Godfrey smiled at his joy and told him he could have the book.

“Thank you, thank you!” Harry shouted and punched the air. As a gesture of gratitude, he reached into his rucksack and drew out an exact replica of the antique book. He walked over to the bottom shelf and slid it into the gap left by the other book. The only difference between them was that the replica did not contain the tiny hidden clues.

Letitia blinked in amazement as Harry placed the large mirror and the antique book into his rucksack which afterwards showed no bulges.

“How do you do that?” Godfrey asked.

“Undetectable extension charm, a trick I learned from a friend of mine,” Harry said. “Talking of which, I must dash. I’m meeting her and my other best friend in half an hour.”

He hoisted his bag on his shoulders and shook hands with Godfrey and Letitia, then the monarchs watched through the window as the young man, swinging jauntily across the palace courtyard, disappeared from sight.

“I don’t know what just happened,” Letitia said, “but I think I must be going bonkers.”

End of First Chapter. From now on, things are going to get wild and weird. Harry, Ron and Hermione are now eighteen, so they will be behaving like adults. You have been warned. 

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