One day, when Y/N was 12, a peculiar man visited Wool's Orphanage. He was tall, with a long silver beard and wore half-moon spectacles. His name was Albus Dumbledore. Mrs. Cole, who was not used to such distinguished visitors, fussed over his arrival, but Y/N was suspicious. She had overheard Mrs. Cole mention a doctor's visit, and she assumed this man was the doctor.Dumbledore asked to speak with Y/N privately. As they sat in the small, cramped office, Y/N eyed him warily. She noticed his kind eyes and the gentle way he spoke, but she was still on guard. When he started talking about a school for special children, Y/N interrupted him, "Are you here to take me away because I'm different? Because I can do things others can't?"Dumbledore smiled, "No, Y/N. I'm here because you are different, and that's a wonderful thing. You see, you're not ill, you're magical. And I'm not a doctor, I'm the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." He then explained about her heritage, about being a Gryffindor, and about the magical world she belonged to.In the heart of London, tucked away in a quiet street, stood Wool's Orphanage. It was a place that had seen countless children come and go, each with their own unique stories. But in the year 1981, a story began that was unlike any other.

Y/N stared at Dumbledore, her mind whirling with confusion. Magic? Hogwarts? It sounded like something out of a storybook, not her life. She shook her head, "You're making this up. There's no such thing as magic."

Dumbledore simply smiled, a twinkle in his eye. "Is that so?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. He then pointed his wand at the old, wooden cupboard in the corner of the room. With a swift flick and a muttered incantation, the cupboard burst into flames.

Y/N jumped up, her eyes wide with shock. But before she could yell for help, Dumbledore waved his wand again and the flames vanished, leaving the cupboard unscathed. "That, Y/N, is magic," Dumbledore said calmly.

Y/N was speechless. She looked from the cupboard to Dumbledore, her mind racing. Could it be true? Could she really be... magical? The world as she knew it was shifting, opening up to possibilities she had never imagined.Y/N swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. "If I'm magical... if I'm a Gryffindor," she began, her voice shaky, "then why was I left on the doorstep of an orphanage? Who were my parents?"

Dumbledore's expression softened. "Your parents," he began, "were extraordinary people. They were brave, kind, and immensely talented wizards. They loved you very much, Y/N."

"But why am I here then?" Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dumbledore sighed, "Your parents were involved in a dangerous battle against dark forces. They wanted to protect you, so they sent you away. They hoped you would be safe here, in the Muggle world, until you were old enough to understand and control your magic."

Y/N sat in silence, processing the information. She was a witch. Her parents were wizards. It was a lot to take in, but for the first time, things started to make sense. Her abilities, her connection to the name Gryffindor, everything.