Dark_Peace
patreon
Chapter 2: Dumbledore
🕑 Added 2025-03-10 03:47:35 +0000 UTCWool's Orphanage.
The corridor was dimly lit, its walls aged by time, yet still standing as a silent witness to the countless children who had passed through its halls.
Albus Dumbledore stood there, his piercing blue eyes scanning his surroundings. A flicker of nostalgia crossed his face—years had passed, yet little had changed.
"Mrs. Elena, I am here for Ian Prince."
Dumbledore followed the orphanage director into her office. His mere presence seemed to dispel the lingering coldness in the air.
"He needs to complete his education."
Sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting a warm glow on Dumbledore's silver hair and beard, giving him an almost ethereal aura.
"Oh! That is wonderful news!"
Elena, a woman in her fifties with graying hair and a kind smile, welcomed Dumbledore warmly. She gestured for him to take a seat and prepared him a cup of tea—cheap tea, its flavor carrying a stale, slightly bitter aftertaste.
"Ian Prince is a good boy. A rather mature one, too. He doesn't mix well with the other children—always off doing his own thing."
Dumbledore listened carefully, setting his teacup down.
"Mrs. Elena, are you saying that Ian Prince is a lonely child?"
The orphanage director hesitated for a moment before quickly shaking her head.
"No, no, that's not what I meant. Perhaps I should put it another way—he is simply… more mature than the others. The children try to play with him, but he finds their games too childish."
She paused before adding, "Ian once said that playing house was terribly dull and that he'd rather spend his time with birds."
"Birds? That's an interesting hobby," Dumbledore remarked with a hint of amusement. "It seems young Ian has a natural affinity for animals."
A smile played at his lips.
"Perhaps he'll have an owl of his own one day."
Elena blinked at the comment but continued speaking fondly of the boy.
"Ian may find the other children immature, but he takes good care of them," she said. "At just eleven years old, he's already sneaking out to earn money. He buys flour and vegetables and leaves them in the kitchen. He remembers every child's birthday and even buys them sweets."
She let out a soft sigh, her expression turning a little sorrowful.
"It's just… the world is tough these days. Donations are scarce, and the orphanage struggles to get by. Of course, it's my own failing. I should be the one providing for them, not a child…"
Her voice was tinged with guilt.
"You need not blame yourself," Dumbledore said gently. "You have done more than enough. This place has changed for the better—I can see it."
He spoke with genuine sincerity, addressing Elena with a rare formality despite the vast difference in their ages.
"You've been here before?" she asked, surprised.
"This is not my first visit," Dumbledore replied with a small, knowing smile.
Elena didn't press further. Instead, her thoughts turned toward Ian's future.
"Sir, if you intend to take Ian from here, please believe me—he is a wonderful child."
Dumbledore's expression remained warm.
"May I meet him?"
Under the subtle influence of a Confundus Charm, Elena's perception of the situation was slightly altered. There was no need to correct it.
"Of course! Of course!" she said enthusiastically, rising to her feet. "Please wait here for a moment."
She left the office and spotted Ian returning to the orphanage courtyard, pushing a small cart.
A bright smile spread across her face as she waved him over.
"Ian, come here!"
A younger child clung to Ian's side and grinned up at him.
"Ian, looks like something big is happening for you! Hurry up, don't keep Mrs. Elena waiting!"
In the orphanage, being chosen for adoption was considered a major event—perhaps the most important thing in a child's life.
But Ian knew this wasn't about adoption.
With a hint of apprehension, he allowed himself to be led to the office.
It's him.
Ian had caught a glimpse earlier, but now, as he stepped inside, he confirmed it. The man sitting before him was none other than Albus Dumbledore—Headmaster of Hogwarts, the greatest wizard of the century.
"Do not be nervous."
Before Ian could speak, Dumbledore was already studying him carefully.
"Child, I must tell you something important—you are a wizard."
Ian put on a look of surprise.
Dumbledore's gaze deepened.
"I believe you've noticed, haven't you? That you are different from those around you." His blue eyes remained clear—not aged or weary, but bright with childlike curiosity.
Ian hesitated, glancing at Mrs. Elena. She remained still, her expression unchanged, as though she had heard nothing at all.
A Confundus Charm?
Forcing himself to stay calm, Ian avoided Dumbledore's gaze.
"Yes, that's exactly how it is. I noticed it a long time ago. Sometimes, when I stare at a glass of water, I can make the water ripple a little. So… this is the power of a wizard?"
Ian didn't dare to feign ignorance.
His response made Dumbledore nod with a smile.
"Yes, that is your innate magic at work. Sometimes, when you are angry, the fluctuations in your magic become even more intense," Dumbledore said in a gentle tone.
But to Ian, this remark felt like fishing for information. What do you mean, 'more intense when angry'? I'm not that Tom Riddle!
"Sir, I rarely get angry at others because being controlled by emotions doesn't solve problems," Ian replied, keeping his voice as calm and composed as possible.
Dumbledore seemed quite pleased with this response.
The old man chuckled, his beard trembling slightly as he nodded.
"You are a very clever child. Miss Elena was right—you are indeed quite mature for your age," he said as he looked at Ian with his wise, aged eyes and continued, "Hogwarts is a school that every young wizard dreams of joining. There, you will learn all kinds of magic and encounter many wondrous magical creatures."
He smiled warmly, sensing Ian's tension.
"There's no need to be nervous, Mr. Ian Prince. As the Headmaster of Hogwarts, I formally invite you to join our school."
It was finally here.
The moment Ian had been waiting for had arrived at last.
Even though, in his past life, he had only seen a few of the Hogwarts movies and read a few Hermione-centric fanfictions, he still knew of Hogwarts' famous 'Professor X' reputation.
Ian was genuinely worried that Dumbledore might act like the manipulative schemer portrayed in some of those fanfictions.
"Is there something you're concerned about?"
Noting Ian's hesitation, Dumbledore's tone softened further. "At Hogwarts, there are winged hippogriffs that can fly, trees that can hit back, and most importantly, many children your age who will learn magic alongside you."
"Don't worry about learning magic, Ian. In fact, this very orphanage once produced a rather remarkable wizard."
Dumbledore's voice carried a note of nostalgia and regret.
Ian tensed immediately.
That wizard?
Of course, he knew exactly how "remarkable" the man who came from this orphanage was.
"That wizard... is he still at Hogwarts?" Ian asked, feigning curiosity.
Dumbledore was silent for a moment, lost in thought. Then, he shook his head.
"No. He left Hogwarts long ago," the headmaster said gravely. "And lost his way."
Ian had braced himself for a moral lecture about the evils of You-Know-Who, but instead, Dumbledore's voice softened into something that almost sounded like regret.
"Still, that does not diminish his extraordinary achievements. He could have gone even further."
Ian stared at Dumbledore blankly, but his mind was racing.
Was this a warning?
A test?
Damn it! Ian cursed his paranoia.
It's those damn Harry Potter fanfics messing with my brain!
"Have you made your decision, child?"
Dumbledore's gentle voice brought him back.
"Uh… I suppose I could give it a try?"
Ian had been waiting for this moment. There was no way he was going to refuse.
"A wise choice," Dumbledore said with satisfaction. "In half a month, Hogwarts will send you a letter. Someone will escort you to purchase your school supplies then."
He smiled warmly.
But Ian merely shrugged, responding dryly, "Sorry, sir. Even if I want to enroll, I can't afford it. I don't have the money for tuition."
Dumbledore had already stood up and retrieved his hat from the rack when Elena, the orphanage caretaker, suddenly spoke up.
"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. Ian will definitely go in half a month."
Ian blinked, realizing something strange.
The Confundus Charm.
Elena hadn't seen their true conversation—only the version of it that Dumbledore wanted her to see.
Dumbledore, however, ignored Elena and turned back to Ian with a knowing smile.
"You need not worry about money. First, Hogwarts has a scholarship fund. Secondly, the one coming to fetch you... feels deeply indebted to you."
With that, the old wizard turned toward the door.
Ian stood up suddenly, watching as Dumbledore walked away.
"Who? My parents?"
Was he a pureblood after all? That was unexpected.
"It is not my place to reveal that answer," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling with unreadable emotion. He raised a hand in farewell.
"You will find out soon enough, child."
And with those words, he left without looking back.
Elena, still oblivious, escorted him to the door with a delighted expression.
Ian opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it. Without another word, he turned and returned to his room.
That Night
Lying in bed, Ian couldn't stop thinking.
Did Dumbledore come here early because of Wool's Orphanage?
Or because, originally, his name should have been Ian Riddle?
Or perhaps...
Because he was a Prince?
Was that even a pureblood surname in the original?
Thoughts swirled in his head until exhaustion overtook him.
The next moment, his consciousness shifted—crossing an unseen boundary.
A golden ribbon of light wove through the sky, painting the horizon in hues of rose and lavender. The distant forest shimmered like a fairytale dream, its emerald canopy vibrant with life. A bird flitted through the treetops, its song clear and melodious, filling the air with an almost magical tranquility.
Bathed in this surreal beauty, Ian felt an unfamiliar peace settle over him.
"You're here again."
A gentle voice spoke nearby.
"Almost forgot—it's Saturday."
Ian turned toward the forest, where a young girl emerged.
She wore a flowing blue dress, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders. Her eyes were pure, untainted by the world's troubles.
"Ariana," Ian greeted with a small smile. "I met a rather terrifying old man today. Oh, and I forgot to bring you sweets."
He spoke to the girl as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
