July 24, 1991—Hampstead Orphanage, day
A doorbell rang loudly—ting-tong.
After a moment, a middle-aged woman dressed in a nun's habit opened the door, a gentle smile on her face. Standing before her was a tall, slender old man with a long silver beard flowing down to his chest. Half-moon spectacles rested on his crooked nose, and his bright blue eyes twinkled with warmth and wisdom.
"Yes?" the nun said politely.
The old man inclined his head. "Good afternoon, ma'am. My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
The nun regarded him carefully. "I'm Sister Marta," she said. "May I ask the purpose of your visit, sir?"
"Yes, of course," Dumbledore replied gently. "I've come regarding a boy by the name of Sian Dumbledore."
Sister Marta's smile faded slightly as she studied him more closely.
"And in what way are you connected to the child?" she asked.
Dumbledore paused, his expression kind but thoughtful. "That's rather difficult to explain on the doorstep, I'm afraid. Might we speak somewhere more private?"
After a brief hesitation, still wearing the same guarded expression, Sister Marta stepped aside. "Very well," she said. "Please, come in."
She led the old man inside and into her office, closing the door softly behind them.
Inside the office, Sister Marta sat behind her desk, while the headmaster, Dumbledore, was seated opposite her.
She folded her hands and spoke calmly. "Now then, sir—what business do you have with Sian?"
Dumbledore met her gaze. "I am here to offer him admission to my school, madam."
Marta studied him with a scrutinizing look. "He receives offers like this rather often," she replied coolly. "He is a very gifted child. Before anything else, I would like to know how you are related to him."
Dumbledore nodded slightly. "I will explain everything in due time," he said gently. "But first, may I meet him?"
She watched him for a long moment, searching his face. At last, she spoke. "Very well. You may meet him."
With that, she rose from her chair. "Please, come with me."
She led the way out of the office and towards the backyard, with Dumbledore following quietly behind. They soon entered a garden, where several children were playing together, their laughter filling the air.
Both Sister Marta and Dumbledore passed through the children playing in the backyard and made their way towards a quieter, empty part of the grounds. After a few turns and some distance, they reached a spot where a single boy sat beneath the shade of a large tree.
He was seated in a meditative pose, eyes closed. Shoulder-length, curly blond hair framed his face, resting softly against his shoulders. He sat so still that he resembled a monk deep in contemplation.
Dumbledore glanced at Marta and asked quietly, a hint of confusion in his voice, "Is this… normal for him? Does he often behave this way?"
Marta's expression softened, pride coloring her tone. "Yes. Sian is an exceptionally gifted child. Even as a toddler, he never cried. By the age of five or six, he had already begun meditating and exercising on his own. His academic abilities are remarkable as well. He completed his schooling early and has received admission offers from several prestigious colleges."
She continued speaking with the warmth and pride of a mother, but Dumbledore scarcely heard her. His gaze remained fixed on the boy beneath the tree. In Sian, he could see a reflection of his own younger self.
Without a word, Dumbledore began walking towards the boy.
Realizing he wished to speak with Sian alone, Sister Marta quietly stepped back, giving them space. She turned and made her way back towards her office, leaving the two behind in the peaceful garden.
Dumbledore did not interrupt the boy. Instead, he quietly sat down beside him on the grass.
After some time passed, the boy slowly opened his eyes. They shimmered with a glassy, jewel-like brilliance, as though entire galaxies were hidden within them. Shades of icy blue, turquoise, and silver swirled together, creating a hypnotic, otherworldly glow. Though they were blue, they felt far beyond ordinary—so striking that one might forget everything else simply by gazing into them.
Seeing the old man seated beside him, the boy showed no visible reaction. There was no surprise, no fear—only calm awareness.
Dumbledore studied him for a moment before speaking softly, a gentle smile forming on his face.
"You don't seem particularly startled by my presence," he said lightly. "Most would have jumped by now."
The boy's lips curved into the faintest smile, his luminous eyes steady and unblinking.
with a faint smirk on the boy's face as he spoke.
"I sensed your magic the moment you arrived near the orphanage gates."
Dumbledore was taken aback, genuinely stunned. For several moments, he simply stared at the boy. Then, slowly, a smile crept onto his face.
"Oh," he said softly. "That would suggest you're able to sense another person's magic. Remarkable. Magic must still be quite new to you."
The boy remained calm, saying nothing.
Dumbledore continued, his tone gentle. "Do you know why I am here?"
The boy shook his head once, indicating that he did not.
After a brief pause, the old man asked again, more carefully, "Do you know anything about your parents?"
For the first time, the boy's features shifted—subtly, almost imperceptibly. "I don't know anything about them," he replied. "Miss Marta told me I was found in a dumpster. All I have is my name—Sian Dumbledore."
Something in Dumbledore's expression faltered. When he spoke again, his voice carried a quiet ache.
"Do you know my name?" he asked. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts."
Silence stretched between them.
After a moment, the boy spoke, his face unchanged, his voice steady.
"Are we related, then?"
Dumbledore studied him closely—the stillness, the lack of visible emotion. At last, he answered quietly.
"Yes."
The boy's eyes did not widen. He did not flinch. He simply asked,
"How are we related?"
The boy spoke again, his head lowering slightly. There was a quiet sadness in his voice.
"Then why didn't you come for me?"
Dumbledore's expression softened, pain clear in his eyes. When he answered, his voice was heavy with regret.
"I knew nothing of the experiment," he said gently. "Nothing of you, or of your father. I only learned the truth when the Book of Admittance wrote your name for entry into my school, my boy. Had I known sooner… I would have come for you long ago."
They sat in silence for a while beneath the shade of the tree, the moment heavy yet peaceful.
At last, Dumbledore spoke. "Come with me, then, my boy—to my school, where you may learn to properly understand and master your magic."
Sian nodded. "I will come with you," he said calmly, "but tomorrow. Today, I need to say my goodbyes—to Miss Marta and the others. And you will need to complete the paperwork and explain everything to her."
A faint smile touched Dumbledore's lips.
Together, grandfather and grandson rose to their feet and walked back towards the orphanage, side by side.
July 25, 1991—Hampstead Orphanage, Night
Sian lay awake in the bedroom he shared with three other boys. They slept soundly in their bunk beds, while he remained still in his own bed, eyes open, staring into the darkness as his thoughts replayed the events of the day.
So… I am Dumbledore's grandson.
He had always suspected some connection to the old man, but discovering that he was his grandson had come as a surprise all the same.
It had all begun on his fifth birthday—when the memories of his previous life returned to him. Fifteen short years lived before this one are now remembered in fragments and flashes. And now here he was, reborn into the world of Harry Potter.
Tomorrow, he thought, a new journey begins.
The grandson of Albus Dumbledore.
A boy carrying power far beyond what anyone here could imagine.
Slowly, he raised one hand into the air. Faint sparks of electricity danced across his fingers, crackling softly before fading away.
Sian closed his hand and let out a quiet breath.
Tomorrow, everything would change.