Golden light shone through the decrepit windows of St. Peter's Orphanage, casting a shadow onto a rickety old wooden bed that looked as though it was one wrong jump away from collapse. A boy stirred beneath the covers as the voice of Madam Crambly echoed throughout the halls
"Up! Up! Morning chores wait for no one."
He sighed, imagining yet another day of tedious tasks and endless scrubbing of walls.
Sharply jumping out of bed as a large, thinly haired head that looked like an ogre and a human had mixed, Madam Crambly, already irritated for having to repeat herself again, snapped
"Mr. Everhart, if I have to remind you one more time, so help me, lord!"
Eager to calm the Matron, he dishonestly replied
"My apologies, Matron, it won't happen again."
Clearly not falling for it, she says
"Eager for extra work, are we? Hurry up now."
Quickly dressing himself in plain gray clothes so ugly a medieval peasant would be ashamed to be caught wearing them, he makes his way into the hallway, bracing himself for yet another morning of chores.
Out of his room, he finds himself in a hallway with several near identical rooms, and lying against the wall, a broom and a dust pan, luckily, his job today.
Grabbing the broom and dustpan, he groaned as he examined the floors, finding the dirt and grime had once again recovered just as it did every morning, as if mocking him for even attempting to clean it. With a sigh, he began sweeping. Here, he was a grand wizard taming a mighty dragon, rather than a boy moving dust from one corner to another.
A loose cobweb hung stubbornly on the ceiling. He leapt with all his might and slew the beast with his mighty staff, bravely wiping it clean afterwards. "Yet another victory," he muttered
The matron's voice echoed from the hall, "Mr.Everhart, no dawdling!"
"Yes, Matron," Mason replied
As he moved along, he noticed a few of the younger orphans sitting in their rooms, watching him and smirking. He didn't mind, though; he'd much rather be alone with his thoughts anyway.
Finishing the last stretch of hallway, Mason pushes the broom away and wipes his hands on his plain gray shorts. Another morning survived. Just as he begins to head back to his room, Madam Crambly comes around the corner, her face filled with urgency
"Mr.Everhart, you are needed, not for more chores, but for a meeting, so dress yourself well and come to my office".
Mason frowned. He's never gone to the Matron's office for a good thing; such occasions are for scolding and punishments, yet why had she requested he wear his best clothes?
Hurriedly dressing himself as neatly as he could, doing his best to avoid upsetting the Matron further.
Mason stepped into the Matron's office, the familiar smell of polish and cheap perfume filling his nose. Madam Crambly sat behind her desk, frowning as she looked down at a single piece of paper.
Before Mason could speak, the door creaked open, and in walked a slender old man with a long, silver beard that reached down to his chest. His robes shimmered light blue, coupled with a purple cloak, and his eyes sparkled beneath his half-moon glasses.
"Good evening, Mr.Everhart," the man said in a gentle voice filled with authority, the kind that made you feel important. "I am Albus Dumbledore, and I've come to make an offer quite unlike any other..."
Mason blinked, his mouth wide open, an opportunity, and at St. Peter's? Must be some sort of con artist, but what could he possibly gain from here, and why? Yet the warmth in this man's eyes couldn't be faked; would such a person really sink so low as to scam an orphanage?
Madam Crambly spoke up, "He is serious, boy, take this seriously and listen carefully."
Dumbledore smiled and said, "You have been accepted, Mason Everhart, to Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Mason muttered, "I'm sorry, sir, but you must be mistaken. I don't recall applying to your school."
Dumbledore laughed and said, "You were born with a gift, my boy. Have you ever had something inexplicable happen to you before?"
Mason shook his head, stuck somewhere between awe and disbelief. "I don't believe so, sir, at least nothing I couldn't explain."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled beneath his glasses. "Ah, but some gifts do not show themselves in ways we may expect. Sometimes, they whisper, and you have whispered enough."
Mason swallowed hard. "I... I don't understand. What do you mean?"
"Some things," Dumbledore leaned in, "cannot be explained by logic alone, your talents, your strength, your... inclinations, however subtle they may be, mark you as one who must be taught. There are things in this world that need you."
Mason's heart pounded; he no longer cared to doubt whether it was real or not. Let him face the consequences. "You truly want me to go to Hogwarts?"
Dumbledore nodded, "Precisely. You are to begin a new chapter of your life, one where you will learn what you are truly capable of"
Mason, his voice barely louder than a whisper, "I... I don't even know where to start."
Dumbledore grinned, "Then let me show you the way, my boy, take my hand and off we shall go to start your grand adventure."
Mason nodded, half in belief and half in awe, and reached out to grab his hand. He no longer cares whether this man is a fraud or not; this is his chance to start his adventure, to live a life worth living, and see the world beyond this endlessly gray place he calls home. It's time to move on.
Grasping his hand, Mason felt a warmth spreading throughout his body, as if destiny itself was cheering him on and eagerly awaiting what comes next. The familiar scent of Madame's office faded.
The last thing he heard was a crack barely audible, like glass shattering in the distance, and then the world went dark.