ELEVEN YEARS LATER

Albus Dumbledore had never wanted to return to this place.

Downtown London was gray and the same city smells he had experienced all those many years ago assaulted his senses almost instantly. Some young boys were shooting marbles on the side of the road, and the sound of the marbles clicking against one another echoed down the alleyways like gunfire. It was enough to put anyone on edge.

Everything around this building seemed to have caught up with the modern age – and yet…. Wool's Orphanage was precisely as he remembered it – high Victorian walls and an altogether intimidating industrial age iron door. Albus rather thought this looked more like an asylum for the mentally disturbed than the sort of place where children learned how to grow up. A familiar chill ran over his body as he tugged the rusted pulley on the worn and out of date doorbell.

The door made a horrible metallic scraping sound as it opened, and a stern faced woman with an unnervingly lazy eye showed him in. The halls were cold and uninviting- not at all like the opulent hallways of Hogwarts, which were lined with thick tapestries and accented by soft candlelight.

"You ere for the young Hitchens boy then?" Her voice was raspy and had the same timbre to it that sandpaper has when dragged along splintered wood.

Albus nodded "I am "

"He's in ere" She stopped before another imposing iron door and lifted the heavy latch with some difficulty.

"Do you keep all of your… wards… under such strict security?"

"He's a troublemaker- this one… likes to set things on fire…"

Albus swallowed a hard lump in his throat- this was far too coincidental for his liking.

"We've had some problems with this one alright…" the old woman coughed.

Once again, there was an abrasive scraping sound as she struggled to push the cumbersome door open.

"Do watch yerself sir… he's been known to bite"

Albus nodded and started to wonder if he was making a grievous mistake in coming here. With great reluctance, the old wizard stepped into the same room he had told himself he would never step through again.

The door closed behind him with a loud clang and he jumped a little at the sudden slam. The room was small and poorly lit. A dingy cot stood in the corner, beside a small desk and chair. It alarmed Albus to see that this particular room had hardly changed in fifty-three years.

The boy was sitting at the desk, staring out the window and did not appear to acknowledge the intrusion at all. His hair was long and stringy, and ran down his back in limp black lines.

"Mr. Hitchens… do you know why I'm here?"

The boy said nothing, but chanced a slight look over his shoulder at the old man.

Albus took a step closer and the boy flinched.

"I'm not going to hurt you, my boy" Albus smiled warmly and slowly took a seat on the worn little cot. "You're special, Mr. Hitchens… you're... different… am I right?"

The boy continued staring out the window.

Albus took a deep breath and sat down beside him. Perhaps the records had been wrong – perhaps this boy was a muggle after all. Albus fidgeted with a piece of parchment in his hands.

"Tell me, Mr. Hitchens... why do you think I'm here?"

Again, the boy was perfectly silent.

Albus attempted to engage the boy in conversation for nearly an hour to no avail.

"I have in my hands an acceptance letter to the school I've been telling you about… you won't be treated the way they treat you here." Albus sighed, "There are other children just like you there"

The boy raised an eyebrow and tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear, but never once broke his gaze from the window. For another half an hour or so, Albus tried to get the young boy to open up. But it was of no use. The boy did not appear to be extraordinary in the least.

"Well", Albus stood – resigned that he would waste no more time at Wool's Orphanage if there was no need. "It appears perhaps we misjudged your… particular skills…" Albus turned to leave, his weary eyes lingering for a moment on the dilapidated wardrobe by the door. With heavy disappointment, he reached for the doorknob but chanced one more look back at the boy, whose cold eyes fell on him like a guillotine.

Don't go.

"What was that, lad?" Albus turned back to the boy, who did not appear to have moved from his spot by the window. "Did you say something?"

The boy was once more, silent.

Let me see the letter up close.

"Merlin's Beard…" Albus approached the boy cautiously and handed him the letter. Was the boy using some sort of Legilimency?

The boy suddenly jerked his head around and stared directly at the wizard, which startled Albus to say the least.

"What's legi…legimency, Mr. Dumbledore, sir?"