….
A sleek black car pulls up near the Red Studio's building.
The door opens, and out steps Richard Harris, draped in a long charcoal overcoat, eyes behind dark shades.
But this time, he isn't alone.
From the other side, Lily hops out with a bright red backpack and a purple cardigan half-buttoned over a pink t - shirt.
Richard said dryly, to no one in particular. "There goes the real executive producer."
They walk toward the building.
Richard casts a sideways glance at her, still not quite believing it.
.....
The Day Before - Richard's House.
.....
After being defeated by his granddaughter's blackmail to try out the Dumbledore character, Richard studies the makeup call sheet given to him from the production team.
And that's when he hears it:
His granddaughter, Lily shuts. "I am coming with you."
Richard asked without looking up. "Coming where?"
She answered. "To the studio. You have got your look test tomorrow. I am not missing it."
It caught him off guard - mostly because, in the past, every time he had tried to bring her to a movie set, she would shut him down without a second thought. His carefully laid plans to impress her with lights, cameras, and a bit of professional grandeur had always crumbled under the weight of her disinterest.
But this time, she was adamant. Unshakably so.
"You know, love." He said cautiously, watching her pack a tiny backpack with purpose. "I recall a time when you called movie sets boring. 'A bunch of grown-ups pretending,' I think you said."
She didn't even look up. "That was because it was not [Harry Potter]. Everything other than that is boring. Even your roles."
He gave her a dry look. "So now I am interested, am I?"
"Obviously, you are Dumbledore." She said, like it was obvious. Then she added. "Also you will probably mess it up if I am not there to supervise."
He blinked at her, unsure if he should be offended or touched.
"Oh, how kind." He acted, amused. "That is exactly the sort of confidence a grandfather needs before walking into a makeup chair."
Lily zipped her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and marched toward the door. "I am coming. You can either walk beside me, or I will call a taxi."
He sighed, adjusted his coat, and followed. "You are turning negotiation into blackmail, just like your grandmother."
Of course, in the end, he agreed.
When he passed the news along to the production team, they expected at least a pause - some back-and-forth about protocols or confidentiality.
Instead, they welcomed the idea almost too quickly, with smiles and a simple "Great, we would love to have her."
Richard had raised a brow but let it go.
At the time, it didn't strike him as anything worth overthinking.
Just one of those curious twists in a day that was already full of surprises.
And that was that.
.....
Present.
.....
Richard with Lily tagging along reached the floor and immediately they were embraced by a distinct cocktail of talc, latex, and stale coffee.
The prep room is filled with racks of wardrobe lined the walls. Foam heads supported an array of wigs in various stages of readiness - some elegant, some absurd.
A few half-built sets lingered in the back corner under dusty lighting grids, one of them a rough model of what might become the Great Hall's hearth.
Near the far wall, a mannequin stood stiffly in place, bearing the weight of a nearly-complete Dumbledore cloak.
Deep purple, embroidered in gold thread - but still missing something.
That last shimmer of lived-in authenticity. The soul of the man who would wear it.
Richard Harris had barely stepped through the threshold before two stylists approached him, moving with a gentle urgency.
"Mr. Harris, we will just start with a beard fitting." Said a female.
…..
She is none other than Seren.
The last time they worked together was [Following] - Regal's first film.
However, she had left after that project, citing the need to explore, to gather more experience before diving into another major costume job.
And now, a year and a half later, here she was again.
Of course, she wasn't the only costume designer on [Harry Potter]. That would have been absurd. A project of this scale needed a small army - wardrobe coordinators, fabric specialists, texture artists, period historians.
But today's look test was hers alone to manage.
…..
She added. "And we will grab a few photos of you in partial costume. Shouldn't take too long."
Richard gave a dry glance at the mirror beside them, then at the array of costume pieces laid out.
"Alright."
Without much protest, he allowed himself to be steered toward the makeup station, settling into the tall, squeaky chair under a bright ring light.
The beard fitting began - slow and careful.
Across the room, Lily climbed onto a bench against the wall and began to swing her feet idly, the heels of her sneakers thudding lightly against the frame.
Her eyes scanned the room, curious and bright.
There was so much here.
Her eyes dart from wigs to wands to an animatronic phoenix prototype resting on a table nearby.
Then came footsteps.
Quick but unhurried.
Lily's head snapped around just in time to see him enter.
Regal stepped through the side entrance, one hand cradling a coffee cup, the other scrolling through notes.
….
Regal was just informed that Harris had made his entry.
…usually he would be the first one to greet him, but as expected things don't go as he planned.
But however as soon as he dealt with things he straight up walked over here.
The building still hums with the sleepy quiet of pre-production hours.
According to what he is informed, the costume team has already laid out Dumbledore's robes on a special rack.
Regal walks in through the side door, sipping on a black coffee, his mind already buried in shot compositions and screen tests.
Then he hears a voice:
"Hey! Regal!"
He stops mid-step. The voice is familiar. More than familiar.
He turns - and before he can brace—
WHUMP.
A small blur of blonde haired and pink outfit figure bump into his waist. Arms wrap around him like a launched grappling hook. Regal stumbles a step back, nearly losing his coffee.
Regal blinked in surprise.
Whoa! Hold on there—
He looks down.
There she is. Big brown eyes, that same Hogwarts t-shirt, and a grin that beams like a Patronus.
He stared for a moment, disoriented but amused. "Wait a minute...." He clearly remembers the schedule. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to come a week later?"
Lily was confused for a second. But she ignored it and went for the interesting part. "You remembered me!"
Regal chuckled as the memory clicked into place. "Of course...."
He clearly remembers her. She was the first one to ask for his autograph when he was literally a nobody.
Also he remembered her for another reason - but from her confusion it was clear she didn't know what he meant.
Then how come she is here?
He wondered looking around searching for answers or guessing to find her mother.
And that's when Richard Harris stepped out from the makeup corridor, already halfway into costume - half-bearded, and robed. He paused when he spotted them, arms crossed, one eyebrow lifted.
"I left her alone for five minutes and she has already hijacked the director."
Lily called back. "He hijacked me!"
Richard shot back. "Liar."
Regal asked, clearly seeing the duo's dynamic. "She is with you Mr. Harris?"
Lily nodded again, this time with a hint of cheek.
"Surprise! He is my grandfather." She puffed her chest a little. "My full name is Lily Kate Dawson Harris."
Regal blinked. "You are British?"
She corrected. "Half-British. Mom is from New Jersey. Dad is from Surrey. I am a cultural sandwich."
"...that is indeed a mix." Regal nodded.
Without missing a beat, Lily slipped into a flawless British accent. "Of course I am, darling. Tea and marmite run in my veins."
Then, instantly switching to a perfect American voice, she added, "But I also crush PB&Js(peanut butter and jelly sandwich) like it's a sport."
Regal blinked again, caught between admiration and mild alarm. "Now… you are simply terrifyingly impressive."
Having seen their flowing conversation Richard chimed in. "I don't know that you are already acquainted with her."
Regal stood, laughing. "I really didn't know she was your granddaughter."
Still shaking his head with a grin, Regal turned back to Lily. "So… let me guess. You had something to do with him finally saying yes?"
She bit her lip. The look in her eyes was pure mischief.
"…Maybe."
"I have been sending offers and messages for months." Regal said, voice half-accusation, half-awe. "Seven rejections. No, eight. Then suddenly I get a call: 'He is in.' No explanation. No conditions. Just: 'He's doing it.' I thought maybe he got hit on the head by fate."
"Nope." Lily said, proudly. "He got hit with a threat."
Regal arched an eyebrow. "A threat?"
"I told him if he didn't play Dumbledore... I would talk to him again. Ever."
Regal burst out laughing, genuine and delighted. "Well, thanks I guess."
She gave a smug smile. "You can't escape with little thanks sir, director. You have to compensate me."
Regal didn't back off. "Ho, you surely will be compensated little Lily. Just make sure to stick with your mom."
"...what does it have to do with me sticking with mom."
"Nevermind. You will know soon enough." Dodging the question, Regal turned to Richard.
Currently, he is just sitting a foot away from them and being ushered back into the makeup in front of a mirror for final touch-ups. The stylists start arranging the final layers of his robes, adjusting the crystal clasp at his throat.
Beside him, Lily watched intently.
"He is gonna be really good at this, you know." She murmured.
Regal glanced down at her. Her voice was softer now, stripped of mischief.
"Yeah." He said. "I believe so too."
….
Richard on the other hand continued to stay still sitting in front of a mirror.
The change was surreal. The robe's velvet shimmered under the lights; the beard had been expertly blended into his own, and the half-moon glasses sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose. Even the way he stood had shifted - taller somehow, slower in gesture, thoughtful in presence.
However, for him - this was always the most boring part of being an actor for him. Especially more for characters in fantasy settings that take up hours of time to just get into costume.
His old bones were too tired to stay still this long, and he had already promised himself to never get into something like this again.
But alas, here he was doing the same thing.
He opens one eye slightly and sees Regal and Lily talking by the door, laughing over something in her sketchbook.
He watches her for a moment - so animated, so full of life.
Then he exhaled, softly. The corners of his mouth tugged upward just slightly.
He muttered under his breath, eyes flicking back to his reflection. "Brat betrayed me."
But there was no malice. Only a kind of quiet affection, buried under layers of dry British wit.
From across the room, her voice rang out - light and sincere.
"Grandpa! You look amazing!"
He didn't turn. "Your compliments are getting suspiciously specific." He called back, lips barely moving beneath the half-fitted beard.
Footsteps approached.
Regal came into view beside the mirror, arms folded casually, amusement still lingering in his expression.
"She is good at convincing people." He said. "I can see it runs in the family."
Richard's eyes shifted sideways. "She is ruthless." He replied. "But… she knows her stories."
Regal nodded. "She also knows a good Dumbledore when she sees one."
The stylist gave a final adjustment, smoothing the fabric at his collarbone, then took a step back. A quiet ripple of stillness moved through the room. Even the usual background chatter seemed to fade. The cape was lifted off the chair with care, folded away.
Richard Harris.
It was a small, unceremonious motion - but something shifted. The weight of the robes settled around him. The long silver beard swayed gently with his breath. The half-moon spectacles caught the light just enough to cast tiny arcs across his cheeks. He didn't need to say a word.
He was no longer simply standing in a costume.
He inhabited it.
Lily let out a sharp gasp fully excited like a fan girl - making Richrd have a smug - which didn't suit the character at all.
However, Regal was already impressed, and all there was awe of a director seeing a character emerge - not from fiction, but from flesh.
For a few long seconds, no one moved.
Albus Dumbledore stood before them.
Not as a sketch, a script… nor as a dream.
A presence. Real.
Regal felt it was worth giving as many shots as possible if he had known this end result.
Without hesitation, Lily skipped forward and wrapped her arms around him, careful not to disturb the beard. Richard sighed - long-suffering, theatrical, indulgent - but he didn't move away.
Regal watched them, something settling quietly in his chest.
Sometimes, it didn't take magic.
Sometimes, all it took was the right man in the right moment - and a little girl who believed in him before anyone else did.
The man before them is no longer Richard Harris.
He is - Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore!
.
….
[To be continued…]
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