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This might be an unpopular opinion in some circles, as anything involving the Sussexes usually is, but Prince Harry has still got it.
That unmistakable spark, his mix of warmth, wit and emotional intelligence that once made him the most compelling member of the royal family, is alive and well.
But these days, only a lucky few get close enough to see it. And this week, I was.
On the second day of his visit to Australia, the Duke of Sussex travelled to the nation’s capital for a solo program without the Duchess of Sussex, as Meghan remained in Melbourne to film MasterChef.
What unfolded was a day of contrasts: a sombre, reflective prince in the afternoon, and a charismatic, effortlessly funny one by night.
Harry arrived at the Australian War Memorial in Canberra early in the afternoon on April 15.
Despite no public meet-and-greet being scheduled to help keep security costs and disruption to the public down, around 50 people gathered quietly, hoping for a glimpse.
Following days of speculation about who was funding the trip — and even a petition circulating online calling for it to be cancelled if there was any cost to the taxpayer— the mood was warm and embracing.
“Hello, Harry!” and “G’day mate, welcome!” a few well‑wishers called out as he crossed the grass toward the For Our Country memorial, a tribute to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander service personnel.
Inside the sculpture garden, the War Memorial’s Indigenous liaison officer, Michael Bell, introduced Harry to Indigenous veterans before delivering a Welcome to Country on behalf of the Ngunnawal people. Harry stood with his hands clasped, the picture of duty and devotion, listening intently.
He then took part in a traditional smoking ceremony, leaning over the fire pit and immersing his face in the cleansing smoke.
He laid a wreath, spent time at the memorial, and moved through the museum’s displays and joined a yarning workshop.
As the venue closed, Harry joined the public for the moving daily Last Post ceremony, which drew a larger crowd than expected.
When he placed his floral tribute at the Pool of Reflection, the prince bowed his head for a long, still moment. I imagine he was reflecting on his own decade of service in the British army, and his pain at losing his military patronages after stepping down from royal duties in 2020.
A senior staffer later confirmed to me that Harry was at the memorial as a private citizen, attending at the request of Invictus Australia.
Duty without the uniform. Service without the institution.
By evening, I saw a completely different man.
The Prince Harry who stepped into the reception room for the Invictus Games Foundation event was almost unrecognisable from the solemn figure earlier that day.
Here, among Invictus athletes, supporters and old friends, he lit up, pulling many in for a warm embrace.
Harry was relaxed, charming and Funny. Entirely in his element.
“G’day everybody,” he said as he took the podium — his attempt at an Aussie accent sending the room into laughter.
Harry was now ready to celebrate what is undeniably his greatest legacy, even if he admits that the Invictus Games wasn’t entirely his own invention.
“What began in 2014 as an idea stolen from the Americans,” he joked of the inaugural London Games, “to use sport as a vehicle for recovery and connection has developed into a global movement.”
He then announced the Invictus Australia Sports Festival — a new international adaptive sports event launching in Perth in October 2026. It may also serve as a test run for Australia’s bid to host the Invictus Games in 2031.
“Nowhere is the impact of Invictus more evident than here in good old Australia,” he said. “Since the Invictus Games in Sydney in 2018, Australia hasn’t just carried the torch — you’ve raised the standard.”
Married to a serving member of the army, I have heard nothing but good things about the Invictus Games over the years and was deeply moved when I attended some events in Sydney in 2018.
But here, I was able to hear first-hand of the life-changing impact it truly had on one individual, while speaking to Taryn Dickens, a serving member of the Navy who lost her sight due to a degenerative eye disease.
“I joined Invictus to learn how to live as a blind person, and it absolutely changed my life,” she told me. “It was a launching platform into elite sport — I’ve since gone on to compete in the Paralympics.”
She continued to express how she felt about the duke’s involvement and on-going association with the Games.
“How do you describe Prince Harry and the Invictus Games? He’s a brilliant man with a brilliant mind who saw a gap in something he related to — and he’s made such a difference to the lives of everyone who serves, the world over.”
Of course, not everyone at the war memorial that day understood the context.
“I thought he wasn’t a royal anymore,” Eliana, a visitor at the memorial, told me. “But they kept introducing him as Prince Harry, so I’m not sure what this was for.”
It’s a fair question — and one that follows him everywhere.
When Harry and Meghan stepped back from royal duties in 2020, and he was stripped of his patronages, they put out a statment that said “service is universal.”
While their trips abroad are often criticised, this is Harry’s way of continuing to serve in the only way he knows how.
But the tension remains: the world still sees a prince, even when the institution no longer claims him.
Of course, he must have regrets, and there are moments when you see this below the smiling facade.
One line struck him visibly during the Welcome to County address.
“Country is something that you feel in your heart and it is always with you,” Bell said.
Harry nodded, the words hitting him hard.
Harry has said he wants to reconcile with his family and would be willing to serve in a part‑time capacity.
However, it would be impossible to see him ever returning to the royal fold with trust remaining an on-going issue with his brother, Prince William, who has every right to feel this way.
But it is a sad truth that the royal family once benefited enormously from Harry’s natural connection with people, but likely never will again.
Because in Canberra, I saw that Harry can still deliver the magic.
Read more expert opinion and analysis in WHO’s The Royal Verdict with Kylie Walters here.
