Prologue: The King's Guest
Five dark robed figures struggled up the road towards the castle on the cliff side. It was a dark and stormy night, and the wind tore mercilessly at their robes as they were lashed by the rain.
The figure in the middle stopped briefly and pulled the hood of his robe down farther in a futile attempt to shield his face. His escort, the four men that surrounded him, waited patiently and then started on again when he was ready.
As they continued to struggle towards the castle, the man being escorted looked out at the mighty, tumultuous, ocean. The ocean's massive breakers smashed into the cliff they walked upon as if they wished to break the cliff side and pull the men down into the depths of the sea.
The five men struggled on, bone weary. The friendly light that could be seen emanating from the castle's high windows egged them on and they doubled their pace.
After another quarter hour of battling against the strong wind, the five men stood outside the gates to the castle. One strode forwards and banged his large fist on the strong oak doors.
The doors swung inward almost instantly to reveal another man cloaked and hooded against the weather. He nodded curtly and stepped aside to let them through.
As the strong doors slammed behind him, the escorted man felt an ominous foreboding, as if he was trapped within them.
He was led across the grounds and into the castle itself; it was not much warmer inside, but it was dry, and they were protected from the rain and wind, thought the man with relief. One of the men escorting him held out his hand and asked in rough English for the man's wand. The man knew this standard procedure, which was always performed before seeing a king, so he gracefully handed over his wand.
He was led through many corridors and then into an eating hall. Unlike the corridors the man had been led through, this hall was warm, and a large fire roared in a stone hearth. A long table ran the length of the room; it was empty, except for at the head of the table, where, in a seat of silk and gold, sat a bearded blond man with a golden circlet about his head. He wore a robe lined with fur and ate from dishes of gold inlaid with jewels; behind his right shoulder a Danish flag flew.
He looked up as the man entered with his escort, but he didn't offer to rise, he merely set his fork and knife down.
The man who had been escorted in threw back his hood onto his shoulders to reveal unruly jet black hair, a scar like a lightning bolt on his forehead, and a pair of piercing green eyes that looked out from behind a pair of simple glasses. It was Harry Potter, savior of the world from the dark lord Voldemort. This was a much older Harry Potter; a middle-aged Harry who was in his low forties, and was diplomat for the English Minister of Magic.
Harry wondered absently what the king of Denmark was doing in this lone castle by the sea side, with hardly any subjects at hand, and without his wife or family.
The blond haired man, who was indeed the king of Denmark, waved his hand in a gesture for Harry to sit by his side. Harry bowed briefly before taking his place by the King's right side as dishes full of food appeared in front of him.
"What brings you here, Mr. Potter?" Asked the King in perfect English; he spoke grimly as if he already knew the answer.
Harry replied with an eloquence learned from years of diplomatic experience. "I am sent from the Minister of Magic, Michael Corner, to his majesty the king of Denmark on behalf of the people of England. The Minister implores you to believe that it was no Englishman that caused the disappearance of your son, the crown prince of Denmark, and asks you to not rise in arms against us."
The king looked grim. "Tell me who it could have been then? My son enjoys sailing, so he went out with his friends on a boating trip, and of course he had many royal guards along. He sailed far and was just off the coast of England, up at its northeastern coast. Suddenly they were set upon by a score of men on brooms, flying towards them from the English coast. A battle ensued, and lots of smoke and chaos, and when the smoke cleared, the attackers were gone, and so was my son.
"The body of my son was not found on board so I assume he is not dead but merely abducted. If this is not the work of Englishmen I do not know who it could be, and since you offer no ideas as to who it may be, and my country has no enemies, or so we thought, I must assume it was the work of Englishmen. Now you must understand me, I do believe you that your government was not behind it, but my people are asking questions: why do I sit here and do nothing while my son is held captive somewhere?
"So unless my son is returned to me, and soon, I must strike. I am sorry Mr. Potter; there is nothing you can do to change what I must do. Unless you can find my son and give him back."
"I am very sorry to hear that. Well then, if my cause is already lost, I feel that I must not intrude, and that I should return at once to my country," said Harry.
The king did not appear to have heard him, or merely ignored him. "This is not my usual abode; I merely came here to receive you, for indeed I suspected that you would be coming." Harry's brow furrowed in puzzlement.
"For indeed, this is not a king's castle," the king continued, "but rather, a castle kept for the comfort of important…guests." With a flash of intuition, Harry knew what was going on, and trepidation got a hold on him. "I am sorry Mr. Potter, but with your experience of diplomacy, you must understand."
"Yes, I understand." Harry replied stiffly.
The king rose and walked to the entrance to the hall, Harry stayed where he sat.
"You will be well taken care of. If you need anything you must just ask for it. I must travel back to my capital tonight. You will remain my guest here at the castle for as long as it takes to resolve this…situation. Goodbye, Mr. Potter."
Harry sat and brooded in silence by the fire a good while after the king left. There was no hurry, for he knew, despite all the king's elegant speech, he was a prisoner of Denmark until the prince should be found, or the tension somehow resolved.