Harry Potter: Prince of Shadows

Wool's Orphanage was quiet, its long corridors carrying echoes of the past. Albus Dumbledore walked through them, his gaze lingering on every detail, as though peeling back layers of memories. It seemed little had changed over the years—the faded walls, the creaky floors, the air steeped in faint nostalgia.

"Miss Elena, I have come for Ian Prince," Dumbledore announced as he stepped into the headmistress's office. His presence was magnetic, his calm demeanor and soft yet powerful voice filling the room. Any lingering coldness in the air seemed to dissipate the moment he entered.

The sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows caught his silver hair and beard, casting a gentle, almost otherworldly glow around him.

"He needs to complete his education," he added simply.

Miss Elena, the headmistress, was a woman in her fifties with gray hair and a warm, kind smile. She nodded eagerly, her face lighting up.

"Oh, that is wonderful news!" she exclaimed. She motioned for Dumbledore to sit and hurriedly prepared him a cup of tea. It was the cheap kind, with a stale, earthy taste, but her effort was genuine.

"Ian Prince is a remarkable boy," Miss Elena began as she handed him the cup. "He's very mature for his age, though he doesn't quite fit in with the other children. He's always occupied with his own pursuits."

Dumbledore listened intently, setting his untouched tea aside. "Do you mean to say he is somewhat of a loner?" he asked, his blue eyes fixed on her with quiet curiosity.

The question made Miss Elena pause. She frowned slightly, then quickly shook her head.

"Oh, no, you misunderstand me. Perhaps a better way to put it is that Ian is… ahead of his age. The other children want to play with him, but he doesn't care much for their games. Ian once mentioned that he found the other children's make-believe games dull and overly childish. He'd rather spend his time reading books."

Dumbledore's expression softened, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Reading? An excellent hobby. It seems Mr. Prince has an affinity for knowledge. Perhaps he'll be a great knowledge man on."

Miss Elena chuckled lightly, though she appeared puzzled by the remark. She quickly returned to praising Ian.

"Despite his opinions on the other children's games, he's very caring. He looks out for his younger siblings here. He's only eleven, yet he earns money secretly to buy flour and vegetables for the kitchen. He even remembers every child's birthday and buys them sweets."

Her voice wavered slightly, and she sighed, her expression clouding with guilt.

"It's a shame the orphanage struggles so much to receive donations these days. It's my failing, I suppose, that a child like Ian has to step up to help us make ends meet."

Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, his voice kind and reassuring. "You shouldn't blame yourself. The improvements you've made here are evident. You have done wonderfully."

Miss Elena looked at him with surprise. "Have you been here before?" she asked.

Dumbledore smiled faintly. "This is not my first visit."

She hesitated but did not press further, her thoughts returning to Ian. "Sir, if you're considering taking Ian from the orphanage, please know he is a remarkable child. He deserves a good place to grow."

Dumbledore inclined his head. "May I meet him?" he asked.

Miss Elena's face brightened. "Of course! Please, wait here a moment."

Under the influence of a subtle Confundus Charm, Miss Elena's perceptions were slightly altered. She didn't question why Dumbledore's presence felt so compelling, nor did she notice anything unusual in his request.

She stepped outside and spotted Ian returning to the yard, pushing a small cart. Her face lit up as she called out to him.

"Ian, come here!"

Another child ran up to Ian and threw an arm around him, grinning. "Ian, it looks like your big moment has come! Don't keep Miss Elena waiting."

The children at the orphanage referred to being adopted as "the big moment," a life-changing event for those with no family to call their own. But Ian knew this was no ordinary adoption.

His heart pounded as he was led to the headmistress's office. The moment he stepped inside, his suspicions were confirmed.

Sitting before him was Albus Dumbledore, the legendary headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—arguably the greatest wizard of the century.

"Don't be nervous," Dumbledore said gently, his blue eyes twinkling as he observed Ian.

Ian hadn't spoken a word, yet Dumbledore's presence alone felt disarming.

"My boy, I need to tell you something: you are a wizard," Dumbledore said, his voice calm and assured.

Ian blinked, pretending surprised, though he had been waiting for this day. "You must have realized early on that you're different from others," Dumbledore added, his gaze warm yet piercing.

Ian hesitated, glancing at Miss Elena. She appeared unaffected, as if she couldn't hear their conversation.

The Confundus Charm, Ian realized. Trying to stay composed, he avoided Dumbledore's gaze. "That's true. Sometimes when I stare at a glass of water, I can make the water ripple. So, this is magic?" he asked cautiously, choosing not to feign ignorance entirely.

Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, that's your magic at work. Sometimes, when you're angry, your magic might react more strongly."

To Ian, this sounded almost like fishing for information. What did he mean by "when you're angry"? He wasn't Tom Riddle!

"Sir, I rarely get angry," Ian replied calmly. "Emotions don't solve problems."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with approval. "You are wise for your age, Mr. Prince. Miss Elena wasn't wrong; you are a remarkably young man."

He leaned forward slightly, his tone softening. "Hogwarts is a school that every wizard wishes to attend. There, you will learn all there is to know about magic—and magical creatures, too."

Then, with a flourish of formality, he added, "As the headmaster of Hogwarts, I formally invite you to join our school."

Ian's heart raced. This was it—the moment he'd been waiting for. Yet a hint of doubt lingered. Would Dumbledore be as honorable as the films depicted, or was this an elaborate ploy, like in some of the darker fanfictions he'd read?

"Do you have any reservations?" Dumbledore asked, noticing his hesitation. "In Hogwarts, you will find hippogriffs that soar through the skies, trees that can fight back, and most importantly, children your age to learn alongside."

He paused, his tone turning wistful. "This very orphanage once produced a remarkable wizard."

Ian stiffened. He knew exactly who that "remarkable wizard" was.

"Is that wizard still at Hogwarts?" Ian asked carefully, showing curiosity.

Dumbledore's expression grew solemn. "No, he has long since left. Unfortunately, he lost his way."

He paused, then added with regret, "But his achievements remain extraordinary, though he could have achieved so much more."

Ian's thoughts raced. Was this a warning? A test? He forced himself to stay calm.

"Have you made your decision, child?" Dumbledore's voice brought him back to the moment.

"Uh... why not give it a try?" Ian said, his voice steady despite his nerves.

Dumbledore smiled warmly. "A wise choice. In half a month, Hogwarts will send you an acceptance letter. Someone will accompany you to purchase your supplies."

Ian hesitated, then shrugged. "Sir, I appreciate the offer, but I can't afford the tuition."

Dumbledore chuckled as he rose, retrieving his hat. "You needn't worry about money. Hogwarts has a fund for students in need. And the person who will come for you… owes you a great deal."

Ian blinked. "Who? My parents?" he asked, startled by the implication.

Dumbledore merely smiled, his voice full of meaning. "That answer will come in time."

With a nod, he turned and left, his robes billowing behind him.

Miss Elena saw him off, her face glowing with gratitude. Ian, meanwhile, returned to his room, his mind spinning with questions.

That night, as he lay in bed, Ian's thoughts raced. Was it because of Wool's Orphanage? Or his surname—Prince? Could he possibly be pure-blood? Was this tied to Voldemort?

His thoughts grew heavier until sleep finally claimed him.

And when he woke, it was to a breathtaking sunrise, the dawn sky painted in hues of gold and pink. The woods beyond the orphanage seemed alive, vibrant with the chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves.

"You're here again," a soft voice said.

Ian turned to see a girl with golden hair and a blue dress stepping out from the trees. She smiled at him, her expression serene and pure.

"Ariana, I met a terrifying old man today," Ian said, his voice unusually light.