It was a normal morning in the Monastery of the Quiet Palm.
The monks had already washed up and were doing their chores and training under the morning sun. The sounds of chorused "Huu"s and "Haaa"s echoed from the training grounds. Some were busy sweeping the courtyard, and younger monks were scurrying around, carrying vegetables and rice to the kitchen for the day's food. Ren, having completed his morning exercise, was helping an old monk fix a lantern to a pole.
All in all, it was a normal morning…
Until Senior Brother Long came sprinting across the courtyard like his robes were on fire.
"Little Ren!" he gasped out. "Foreigner! At the gate… asking for you!"
Ren frowned, confused. He knew no foreigner. The people he knew from outside the monastery were visitors who came from the nearest village for worship. So he asked, "Foreigner? Did he ask for me? Specifically me?"
"Yes! He said your full name. In fact, he said your middle name as well! He said he's here for Ren Edmund Alaric."
Ren froze. Edmund Alaric. There was only one place a foreigner could come from and know that name. Britain. Wizarding Britain. And more importantly, only one place in Wizarding Britain would know his full name and the exact location he was in. Hogwarts.
So it was time.
"All right," said Ren. "Take me to him, Senior Brother."
So they set off at a brisk walk toward the gates. As he went, Ren was filled with a strange mix of excitement and unwillingness. He was excited to finally enter the world of magic, but also unwilling to leave behind the place he called home.
But the rational part of his mind also had a question. As a Potterhead, he knew that Hogwarts admission letters arrived around July, but currently it was May. So why had a Hogwarts professor arrived so early?
He was broken out of his musings by the sight of a strange old man sitting in a gazebo by the gates, being served tea by a monk. He was tall and very thin, with silver hair and a long silver beard that was tucked into his belt. His bright blue eyes twinkled behind a pair of half-moon spectacles, and his long nose was crooked. He was wearing strange attire: an elaborate purple robe (not the monk kind) and a pair of high-heeled, buckled boots.
That distinctive appearance made a very familiar name pop into Ren's head.
Albus. Bloody. Dumbledore.
Ren faltered slightly in his steps before composing himself and entering the gazebo. He decided that before he got a clear grasp of Dumbledore's character, it would be unwise to reveal anything special about himself. After all, it was one of the biggest questions in the Harry Potter series—Albus Dumbledore: Kind Old Man or Evil Manipulative Lord?
But as he was about to speak, the man kindly spoke, in perfect Mandarin. "Hello, child. Are you Ren Alaric?"
Ren's eyebrows rose slightly. Then he nodded and said, "Yes, sir. And you are?"
Dumbledore smiled and said, "My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Ah, it feels a tad like a mouthful when speaking informally, doesn't it? You can call me Professor Dumbledore."
"So you are… some kind of teacher?" asked Ren.
"I am the Headmaster of a school in England. And I'm here to give you your admission notice," was the smiling reply.
"England? I am a monk, Professor Dumbledore. Why would I go to a school? And why a school in England of all places?"
Dumbledore smiled wider and said, "Well, answering that question will take a lot of explanation, and I don't want to do that more than once. So can you take me to whoever your guardian is here?"
"I can take you to the abbot. Follow me, Professor."
Ren and Dumbledore, followed by Senior Brother Long, made their way toward the central pavilion where Master Jing'an lived. They entered to see Master Jing'an drinking tea and reading a scripture. He looked up, smiled warmly, and said, "Little Ren, what brings you here? Oh, a visitor?"
Master Jing'an's eyes lit up upon seeing a man his age, and soon they were both seated across from each other, drinking tea while Ren handled the introductions.
Then Master Jing'an asked, "So, why is Ren getting an admission notice from a school in England?"
"Well… this is a school for special children, Abbot. The school I am the headmaster of is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and Ren is a… wizard."
Master Jing'an did not look even slightly surprised at the revelation, nor did Ren, which prompted Dumbledore to say, "For you to be this calm, I take it that you must have witnessed an outburst of magic from Ren in the past."
"No… it's just that he sweeps the courtyard suspiciously fast."
"...."
Ren quietly snickered off from the side as Dumbledore stared at Master Jing'an with a "Siriusly, bro?" expression plastered on his face. The old wizard was probably, for the first time, getting a taste of his own medicine—eccentricity.
Then Dumbledore turned to Ren, curiosity evident in his eyes, and asked, "So you knew about your magic, Ren?"
Ren didn't say anything, just raised his palm as a small ball of golden light appeared, floating above it. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, and Master Jing'an looked unruffled. Ren explained, "While meditating, I felt this energy inside me. I experimented a little bit, and now I can use that energy to do a bunch of things. Making light and fire are things I can do using minimal energy. If I use a substantial amount, then the effects are more… reality-altering, so I haven't touched that yet."
Dumbledore asked, "What do you mean when you say reality-altering?"
"I mean that I can change the fundamental composition of an object by… uh… imagining it? Wanting to do it? I haven't tried it, so I don't properly understand."
"Hmm. Child, what you're talking about is called Transfiguration. It is a subject taught from the first year at Hogwarts. I myself was the Transfiguration professor before I became Headmaster. It is, according to me, one of the most versatile forms of magic. But anyway, we have a more pressing issue to discuss. Master Jing'an, do I have your permission to take Ren with me to Britain? It is compulsory for every young British wizard to attend Hogwarts, and Ren also has to inherit his family's legacy."
Master Jing'an closed his eyes for a moment, muttered a short prayer, then opened them and said, "I always knew Ren would find his true calling one day. I will not commit the sin of obstructing a fellow monk's path. Ren has my permission."
"Very well, then. Ren, say your goodbyes and pack your stuff. We will leave by afternoon."