1988. The Ministry of Magic, Great Britain.
Dumbledore stood outside a holding cell, peering in at a young child restrained by magic-suppressing shackles. His shock quickly gave way to rising anger. He turned to the woman beside him.
"Millicent, isn't treating a child like this a bit excessive?"
Even the Minister for Magic felt her heart skip a beat facing the wrath of the century's greatest wizard. The scary thing about Dumbledore wasn't his long list of titles or awards. It was his history. He was best friends with the first Dark Lord, only to defeat him later. Then, he went on to teach the second Dark Lord.
If you truly crossed him, who's to say he wouldn't groom a third or fourth just to make a point?
Others might struggle to pull that off, but this was the Headmaster of Hogwarts. He had the power, and he certainly had the resources. There were even malicious whispers in some corners that the second Dark Lord—He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—was just a rival Dumbledore cultivated himself, a toy to make his boring life a little more interesting.
"Dumbledore, I don't like it either," Millicent Bagnold replied defensively. "But look at this report. I honestly couldn't think of any other way to handle this."
The old man took the report and began to read line by line. His expression grew increasingly surprised.
Name: Owen Corlett
Born: 1980, York
Age: 8
At age three, he showed no signs of accidental magic, so he never popped up on the Ministry's radar. No one expected his first outburst to happen at eight years old—and certainly not like this.
Accidental magic is a rite of passage for every young wizard. Because the children are young, the scope is usually small—rarely affecting an area larger than a standard living room. Usually, it's just levitating a teacup or breaking a vase.
But this little wizard named Owen was different.
His outburst covered the entirety of Yorkshire. Just yesterday, eighty percent of the Muggles in York witnessed a giant, pure white phoenix soaring through the sky.
The Ministry panicked, initially thinking it was a magical creature invasion. But when the Aurors tracked the magic to its source, they found a private residence. There, floating in mid-air with eyes closed, was a child surrounded by a manifestation of a white phoenix.
It wasn't a creature. It was just an eight-year-old's accidental magic.
The Aurors had never dealt with raw power on that scale. They had to wait for the storm to subside before carrying the unconscious boy back to the Ministry. Millicent hadn't known how to handle it either, but the moment she saw the report mention a "Phoenix," she sent for Dumbledore.
After finishing the report, Dumbledore felt a mix of shock and delight.
He was shocked by the sheer scale of the boy's power, but delighted by the form it took. In the current wizarding world, Dumbledore was the only one known to possess a phoenix. But even in his hundred-plus years of life, he had never heard of a patronus-like projection of a white phoenix.
The boy inside clearly had unique potential.
Dumbledore looked at the child sitting quietly with his eyes half-closed. He wanted to use Legilimency to see what the boy was thinking, but the child was surrounded by a dense, chaotic shield of wild magic. Dumbledore couldn't penetrate it without risking injury to the boy's mind.
Composing himself, Dumbledore opened the door and sat down across from the boy.
At that moment, Owen opened his eyes. Dumbledore found himself staring into eyes as dark and deep as obsidian.
They looked confused, clear, and determined.
But that look was quickly replaced by feigned surprise.
"Sir, I really didn't expect someone your age to be into the kidnapping business," Owen said. "But I have to give you some bad news. You won't get any money out of me. My parents died in an accident last year. I have no family left. No one is coming to pay a ransom for me."
The old wizard had lived for over a century, and this was the first time anyone had spoken to him like that. After a brief pause, he burst out laughing.
"Hahaha! Mr. Corlett, you have quite a sense of humor. I'm not a kidnapper, and you haven't been kidnapped. This is the Ministry of Magic. You were brought here because your accidental magic caused quite a scene. You aren't being detained; you're being protected. In the eyes of... ordinary people, wizards can be dangerous. We didn't want you to get hurt."
"Wizard?"
"That's right. You and I are both wizards."
Dumbledore pulled out his wand and gave it a wave. Instantly, plates of classic British cuisine appeared on the table: roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, boiled potatoes.
Owen took a deep breath. He wasn't awestruck by the magic; he was just relieved the old man hadn't conjured up a Stargazy Pie with fish heads staring at him.
He ate two potatoes to take the edge off his hunger, then looked the old wizard in the eye again.
"Okay. We can discuss compensation now. I'll pay for the chaos I caused, but it might take a while. Given my age, I can't exactly get a high-paying job yet."
Dumbledore chuckled again. "Relax, my boy. You don't need to pay anything. I believe what you need most right now is education. You need to learn how to control your magic and how to become a great wizard."
The boy didn't look happy. Instead, he looked conflicted.
"I'm sorry, but I don't think I can do that. I don't have the money for tuition. And I won't sell the house my parents left me—it holds all my best memories."
"Of course!" Dumbledore beamed. A child who valued love and memory always warmed his heart. "Mr. Corlett, for cases like yours, the Ministry provides financial aid. All your expenses at Hogwarts will be covered, and you will receive a scholarship of two hundred Galleons a year."
Owen's eyes instantly lit up. "Then I'm in, Sir."
"Let me formally introduce myself. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Although it is currently summer vacation, I think you might like to get accumulated to the school's environment early."
"Thank you. How do we get there? Is it a long drive?"
Owen eyed the leftover potatoes on the table. If the trip was long, he figured he should pack a few for the road.
Dumbledore smiled mischievously and winked. "Oh, no driving necessary. Wizards have their own way of traveling."
Owen walked out of the Ministry with him. Following instructions, he grabbed onto the old wizard's arm tightly. Before he could ask another question, the world twisted and compressed.
When the spinning finally stopped, Owen didn't dare open his eyes immediately, terrified he might throw up.
"The sensation isn't pleasant, I admit," the old wizard said, looking far too amused by the boy's misery. "But you'll get used to it."