Wools Orphanage.

The corridor remained unchanged. Dumbledore surveyed the familiar surroundings, a tapestry of memories woven into the very fabric of the building.

"Ms. Elena," Dumbledore's voice resonated with a quiet authority, "I'm here for Ian Prince."

Ushered into the office by the matron, Dumbledore's presence seemed to dispel any lingering chill. "He has an education to attend to."

Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass window, illuminating his silver hair and beard, casting the aged wizard in an ethereal glow.

"Oh, how wonderful!" Elena, the matron, a woman of fifty with kind eyes and greying hair, beamed. She bustled about, offering him a cup of tea – the cheap kind, with a stale aroma.

"Ian Prince is a good boy, very mature for his age. He doesn't quite fit in with the other children. Always off doing his own thing."

Dumbledore considered this, setting down the untouched teacup. "Ms. Elena, are you suggesting Ian is… solitary?"

Elena faltered, then shook her head vehemently. "No, no, you misunderstand. He's simply advanced. The other children try to play with him, but he prefers his own pursuits." She paused. "He once said their games of pretend were… childish. He'd rather be birdwatching."

"Birdwatching. A fine hobby. A kinship with animals." Dumbledore seemed to relax, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Perhaps he'll have an owl someday."

Elena blinked, then continued her praise. "He may find the other children immature, but he cares for them deeply. Eleven years old, and he's already sneaking out to earn money, buying flour and vegetables for the kitchen. He remembers every child's birthday. Buys them sweets." A sigh escaped her, tinged with regret. "These are hard times. Donations are scarce. It's my own failing that a child has to…"

"You mustn't blame yourself. You've done admirably. I can see the improvements." Dumbledore's words held genuine warmth.

"Have you been here before?" Elena asked, surprised.

"This isn't my first visit," Dumbledore replied cryptically.

Elena, preoccupied with the prospect of Ian's departure, didn't press the matter. "Sir, if you're here to take Ian, please know he's a remarkable boy."

"Then perhaps I could meet him?"

Under the subtle influence of a Confundus Charm, Elena's perceptions were gently nudged. No correction was necessary.

"Of course! Of course!" She hurried out, spotting Ian returning with a small cart. "Ian! Come here, dear!"

A younger child clung to Ian's arm. "Ian! This is it! Your big day! Go on, don't keep Ms. Elena waiting!"

In the orphanage, being chosen was a momentous occasion. For these children, nothing held more significance than finding a home.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

But Ian knew this was no ordinary adoption.

Apprehension gnawed at him as he was led to the office.

It's him. He'd glimpsed the figure earlier. Now, confirmation settled in. Albus Dumbledore. Hogwarts Headmaster. The greatest wizard of the age.

"Don't be nervous, child." Dumbledore's eyes, ancient yet clear, held him in their gaze. "I have something to tell you. You are a wizard."

Feigning surprise, Ian met the old wizard's penetrating stare.

"I imagine you've noticed… certain differences between yourself and others."

Ian hesitated, glancing at Elena, who remained oblivious, her expression unchanged. The Confundus Charm. He forced a calm demeanor, avoiding Dumbledore's direct gaze. "I have. Sometimes, when I stare at a glass of water… it ripples. Is that… wizardry?"

He dared not feign complete ignorance.

Dumbledore nodded, a faint smile gracing his lips. "Indeed. That is your magic manifesting. Sometimes, when you're… angry, these fluctuations become more pronounced."

Angry? Ian's mind raced. I'm not some… Tom Riddle. "Sir, I rarely get angry. Emotions cloud judgment."

Dumbledore's smile widened, his beard trembling slightly. "A wise observation. Ms. Elena was right. You are remarkably mature." His gaze softened. "Hogwarts. A school of magic. A place where you can learn all manner of spells and charms, encounter fantastic beasts…"

"Don't be alarmed, Ian Prince. As Headmaster of Hogwarts, I formally invite you to attend."

It's happening. Despite his limited knowledge of the wizarding world gleaned from a few films and fan fictions, the weight of the moment settled upon him. He knew of Hogwarts'… reputation. He couldn't shake the unease, the paranoia fueled by countless dark fan theories.

"Is something troubling you?" Dumbledore inquired, mistaking his apprehension for hesitation. "Hogwarts has hippogriffs that soar through the skies, trees that… retaliate. And most importantly, children your age. You'll learn together."

"Don't worry about the process, Ian. This very orphanage… produced a remarkable wizard once." Dumbledore's voice trailed off, tinged with a wistful sadness.

Ian tensed. He knew precisely how "remarkable" that wizard had become.

"Is he… still at Hogwarts?" he asked, feigning curiosity.

Dumbledore shook his head, drawn back from his reverie. "No. He left long ago. Strayed from the path." A sigh escaped him, heavy with regret. "But that doesn't diminish his accomplishments. He could have achieved so much more…"

Ian maintained a facade of innocent confusion, his mind churning. A warning? A test? Damn my paranoia, curse those fan fictions.

"Child, have you made your decision?"

"I… I suppose I'll give it a try." He'd been waiting for this day. There was no other answer.

"A wise choice. In a fortnight, you'll receive your Hogwarts letter. Someone will escort you, assist with your school supplies."

Ian shrugged, feigning reluctance. "Sir, even if I wanted to, I can't afford it. I have no money for tuition."

Dumbledore retrieved his hat from the coat rack. Elena suddenly spoke, her voice filled with an unnatural certainty. "Thank you. He'll be there in two weeks."

Ian realized the Confundus Charm was still at work. He wondered what fabricated scenario she was witnessing.

Ignoring Elena, Dumbledore addressed Ian directly. "Don't worry about the finances. There are scholarships. And the person who escorts you… they owe you a great deal."

Dumbledore turned to leave. Ian stood up abruptly. "Who? My… parents?" Am I a pureblood after all?

"That's not for me to reveal." Dumbledore winked, a cryptic smile playing on his lips. "You'll know soon enough, child."

He departed without another word, Elena bustling after him, overflowing with misplaced gratitude.

Ian stood there, speechless, then retreated to his room.

That night, lying in bed, his mind raced. Why did Dumbledore come early? Was it the orphanage? My… supposed lineage? Grindelwald? Riddle? Or… Prince? Was that even a pureblood name?

Exhaustion finally claimed him.

He drifted from sleep to wakefulness, crossing a threshold. Dawn painted the sky in hues of rose and gold, the distant woods a fairytale landscape. A bird sang a sweet melody.

He opened his eyes, taking in the breathtaking view.

"You're here again." A gentle voice reached him.

"Almost forgot. It's Saturday." He turned to see a girl emerge from the woods, clad in a blue dress, her golden hair cascading around her shoulders. She gazed at him with an innocent serenity.

"Ariana," he said, "I met a creepy old man today. Forgot to bring you sweets."