"So," Dumbledore asked Mrs. Garry carefully, "has anything strange or unusual ever happened around this child?"
"Strange things—" The smile on the old woman's face vanished the moment she heard the word. Her tone turned sharp and defensive. "Nothing strange has ever happened to little Albert! He is a real, good-hearted boy."
"A child as good as him has already suffered so much misfortune, and any upright gentleman would never question his character."
"Yes, yes, I wasn't doubting him," Dumbledore said, trying to calm her. "I only wish to understand him more fully."
Even someone as powerful and wise as Albus Dumbledore found himself momentarily overwhelmed by the old woman's intense protectiveness. It took quite a bit of convincing for Mrs. Garry to understand that he truly meant no harm.
How could this be? he thought silently. The Pen of Acceptance clearly wrote his name in the Book of Admission. That proves he's not a Muggle. He's not a Squib either. He has magical ability.
Such magical ability, even before formal training, should inevitably cause accidental magical outbursts. Yet, as the caretaker of the orphanage, Mrs. Garry hadn't noticed anything strange.
Is his power so deeply hidden—or so extraordinarily rare?
That question led Dumbledore's mind to someone from long ago. He paused, setting aside the wandering thoughts.
"Well then," he said finally, "as the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I hope to extend an official invitation for Albert to attend our school. That is the reason for my visit—delivering his admission letter and meeting him in person."
"Oh, another school's admission letter?" Mrs. Garry said with a proud smile. "I always knew our little Albert would be recognized one day. But you're the only headmaster who's come in person. That's quite special. However, he must make the decision for himself. Even Eton has already offered him a spot."
Saying that, Mrs. Garry slowly rose from her chair. "Let me take you to his room. George should be reading at the moment."
She led Dumbledore up the narrow staircase.
…
In Wu's Orphanage, Albert was already a legend.
He had been found as a baby—just a few months old—by Mrs. Garry one rainy morning as she stepped outside to collect the day's newspaper. He had been wrapped in oversized adult clothing. The only thing hinting at his identity was a cheap plastic name tag with the word "Albert" scribbled in uneven handwriting.
With his obviously Asian features, the orphanage staff settled on the name Albert.
From a very young age, Albert displayed extraordinary talent. He learned to speak, walk, and read far faster than any other child. And he wasn't just smart—he was remarkably mature for his age. He never cried unnecessarily, never caused trouble, and often consoled younger children. Adults hardly had to worry about him.
Despite looking different from the other children, Albert's charisma, intelligence, and calm demeanor earned him admiration and affection. Before long, he became the natural leader of the orphanage's children, regardless of age. Everyone respected and listened to him—he was their unspoken king.
By the time Albert turned five, the staff at Wu's Orphanage began to notice that their daily workload had decreased significantly. Under his quiet leadership, the children had become more disciplined and thoughtful. Older children started volunteering for chores, helping younger ones with tasks, and maintaining order among themselves.
In school, Albert was unmatched. No subject could stump him. Whether math, literature, or science, he mastered everything quickly. Teachers often praised him, and even the principal was impressed by his talents. When he graduated from elementary school, he received an offer of admission from the prestigious Eton College.
But what no one knew—what Albert had never told a soul—was that he was not a child of this world.
Albert was a traveler from another time and universe.
In his previous life, he had been a university student in Meicheng, China. His family was middle-class, and he had attended one of the country's top ten universities. His major? Computer software engineering—a booming field. By all accounts, he had a bright future ahead. He was socially average but academically excellent—a classic example of a high-achieving young man.
Albert had always been a bit of an introvert. He loved anime, games, and comics, and spent much of his free time immersed in the world of ACG (anime, comics, games). During the May Day holiday in his final year of university, he had gone alone to watch Avengers: Endgame. On his way back to campus, something happened that changed everything.
The skies, which had been clear, suddenly darkened. A bolt of lightning struck without warning. The street split open as blinding light surrounded him. And then—Albert disappeared without a trace.
In the days that followed, people would remember him as the student who vanished mysteriously during a thunderstorm—an urban legend born from tragedy. But the truth was far stranger.
Albert had not died that day.
In that instant, as the lightning struck, he saw a black crack open in mid-air. Time seemed to stop. The sky shattered. Gravel, wind, even the sounds around him—everything was sucked into the crack, including himself.
Then came silence.
What lay beyond the crack was something Albert could not describe at first. It was not a place—it was a space. An endless, chaotic dimension with shifting colors and wild turbulence. A world without up or down, light or darkness.
Later, Albert would come to understand it as a space-time rift—a chaotic interdimensional realm connecting countless universes. The black crack that had appeared on Earth was a temporary tear between dimensions. These tears occurred randomly, formed by accidents in time and space. They opened, then vanished. Some lasted seconds, others less than a blink.
This strange dimension, which he later called the "Super-Space-Time Channel," wasn't empty. Fragments of other universes constantly broke into it. Pieces of planets, buildings, debris, strange creatures, and even humans drifted past—some alive, some lifeless. All were eventually swallowed by the turbulent energy that surged through the space.
In Albert's theory, this was a cosmic highway—a chaotic, natural system that existed beyond logic and reason. Each tear in space opened to a different world. Some connected to fantasy realms. Others to technological utopias. A few to places he couldn't even comprehend.
That terrifying storm of space and time lasted for what felt like an eternity.
But somehow, Albert survived.
He floated, drifted, and wandered through that dimension, clinging to pieces of shattered matter and absorbing knowledge from the remnants of civilizations that passed by. In that void, time was meaningless. It could have been seconds, or centuries.
Then, one day, a new crack opened—just like the one that had swallowed him. Without warning, it yanked him in.
He woke up crying, a baby once more, lying at the doorstep of an orphanage.
Memories of his past life remained mostly intact, although sometimes fragmented. He remembered who he was, what he studied, and how he had lived. More importantly, he had a clear understanding that this was not the world he came from.
And slowly, as he grew up, he noticed that he was different in other ways too.
Though he had no wand, and no formal training, strange things happened around him occasionally—whispers of magic. He could sometimes sense emotions strongly, move things without touching them, and understand languages he'd never studied. But he learned to hide those differences, to remain unnoticed.
Until now.
Now, an old wizard had come to visit. Not just any wizard—Albus Dumbledore. A man of power, wisdom, and kindness. A man who recognized what others could not.
Albert didn't know whether this was fate, or just the next ripple from that space-time storm. But for the first time since he arrived in this world, he felt something stir in his heart—something new.
Hope.