Wool's Orphanage

Wool's Orphanage, an old orphanage in London.

It was a square building surrounded by high railings. The inside looked shabby, but it was very neat and spotless.

No one knew when the orphanage had been established. Though it had a fairly long history, there was little else worth mentioning—it had produced no famous merchants, politicians, or scholars, nor could it attract more donations or kind-hearted people wishing to adopt.

It was merely an ordinary, shabby orphanage on the brink of bankruptcy, and its manager, Mrs. Gary, was only an ordinary old woman.

Yet this orphanage possessed an extraordinary reputation on the other side of this world, in a society ordinary people could not reach. From today onward, that reputation would surely grow even louder.

Today, June 11, 1991, the orphanage received a special visitor.

Knock, knock, knock—

The knocking reached Mrs. Gary's ears.

Curled up in her recliner, she set down her needlework and hurried toward the door.

"Who would visit such an old orphanage on a rainy day like this?"

Wondering this, she casually took an old black umbrella from the rack by the door, opened it, and headed for the gate.

An old man stood outside. He was tall and thin, with silver hair and a silver beard so long they nearly reached his waist. Over his robes, he wore a purple cloak and held a filthy black umbrella. His robes were already soaked through, and water droplets covered his half-moon glasses.

Mrs. Gary was already sixty, yet she felt this old man was far older than she was. Strangely, however, this man who was old enough to be her father—or so Mrs. Gary thought—looked far more lively than she did. His beautiful blue eyes brimmed with bright vitality.

"Oh, do come in." Mrs. Gary fumbled through her key ring for a large key and struggled to open the orphanage's somewhat rusted gate. "The weather has been dreadful lately. The children's clothes have been hanging out for two days and still haven't dried."

"Indeed," the old man agreed, following Mrs. Gary through the orphanage's main entrance. He looked around, and a trace of nostalgia flashed through his eyes.

"Nothing has changed here. It is still so neat," he sighed.

"Of course." Mrs. Gary found a clean towel from a cabinet and handed it to the dripping old man. Proudly, she said, "It has always been this way. We may not be able to provide a comfortable life, but we do everything we can to give the children a good living environment. It has been that way since Mrs. Cole's time. Sadly, not many people come to help us, and not many come to help these poor little things." As she spoke, the somewhat talkative old woman could not help complaining again.

"Have you been here before? I don't think I remember you." She was somewhat curious.

"Oh, that was many years ago," the old man recalled. "About fifty-seven... or fifty-eight years ago, perhaps? I cannot quite remember. Mrs. Cole received me then, and she gave me a great deal of help."

"Then you must be over eighty, I suppose?" Mrs. Gary asked casually as she busied herself making tea for her guest.

"Believe me, I am older than you imagine." The old man finally dried his beard and hair with the towel, then began chatting with the somewhat lonely old woman.

Only after quite some time, when her desire to chat had been satisfied, did the old woman remember the matter at hand. "Then, sir, you... Oh, how rude of me. I actually forgot to ask your name."

"Albus. Albus Dumbledore," the old man replied. "I am the headmaster of a private school. I came here to find a boy named Ting Ye."

"Oh, Ting Ye." At the mention of that name, the old woman's clouded eyes seemed to light up. "Little Ting Ye is the pride of this place. There is no child smarter or more sensible than him. I watched him grow up. I have seen all kinds of mischievous little poor things, you know; that is the nature of my work. But I have never seen such a clever, sensible little adult."

Mrs. Gary's face was full of pride and delight as she chattered on. "Little Ting Ye could talk when he was one. After that, he never cried or fussed with us again. Whether he was hungry or bullied by the older children, he always tried to face it alone. Oh, he is such a strong child."

Mrs. Gary refilled Dumbledore's tea and continued, "That child loves reading. Ever since he learned to recognize words, he has been learning to read—newspapers, magazines, dictionaries, novels... he reads everything. He is so clever and learns quickly. By three, he could read newspapers fluently..."

As though she were introducing a grandson she was proud of, the old woman spent a long time talking about the ten-year-old boy named Ting Ye. Dumbledore listened patiently, gradually forming a basic impression of the child: intelligent, sensible, studious, hardworking, kind, and so on. Though he knew the old woman's words inevitably contained some subjective favoritism, the overall impression was nearly perfect.