Catalyst

Chapter 4: Indistinguishable

It had been a while since he had got out of the castle. Hogwarts was a wonderful place, but even the headmaster needed to get out and about now and again. And so, on the steps of the orphanage, life found Albus Dumbledore, looking quite dapper in a star speckled lime green robe, complete with a large striped purple hat, and carrying a parchment letter with a large red seal on it, addressed to a Thenabar Jaren. As he walked up the steps, Dumbledore wondered when the last time he had done this was. Perhaps it was back in '72? Or was it a couple years earlier? Either way, here he found himself again, delivering a letter to a young man, soon to be inducted into the ranks of Europe's finest young magical minds. Maybe it would be a brilliant Ravenclaw, or a noble Gryffindor. Well, no way to tell until he delivered the letter.

Dumbledore stepped up to the door and rapped on the knocker twice. After a moment, small, unremarkable man opened the door. "Yes?", he asked.

"I am am here with a letter for a Mr. Jaren," Dumbledore responded. Oh dear, the man looked a little uncertain. "He has been accepted into my school." Suddenly the man looked up. He almost appeared... relieved?

"Ah, Thenabar. Well he prefers to be called Abathur, but same difference. Yes, he's right up this way." With that, the man started walking back into the orphanage, motioning Dumbledore to follow him. "A brilliant child, no doubt. I'm not surprised you're looking to enroll him. A bit odd though, that one."

"Indeed? In what way?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Well, he tends to keep to himself, talks a bit oddly, other children even avoid him a bit," the man replied. "So what kind of school do you run anyway?"

"It's a private boarding school up in Scotland, you likely would not have heard of it," Dumbledore said, managing to evade the question.

"Ah, okay." Both men continued walking through the orphanage walls in silence. Eventually they reached "Here we are, Abathur should be right in there." The man paused for a second right outside the door. "You know, to be honest, I'll be kind of glad to see Abathur go for a while. Just get the feeling there's something a bit off about him, y'know? He just keeps looking at everyone like he wants to take 'em apart and see how they work. But hey, what do I know, I'm workin' in a bloody orphanage!" The man wandered off, leaving Dumbledore to his own devices, muttering under his breath about how he could've been a surgeon.

A little shaken, Dumbledore returned to his task. Facing the door, he composed himself, before knocking on the door in front of him. After a moment's pause, he heard a voice say, "Entrance, permitted." With that, Dumbledore turned the knob, and entered the room. It was a rather spartan living place, containing only the bare necessities, with only the merest hint of personal touch, or indeed, anyone living there at all. The one main exception to that, of course, was the yellow-eyed youth standing in the center of the room, examining Dumbledore carefully.

(Transition)

Abathur was unsure what to make of the odd, elderly, man standing in front of him. At first glance, he appeared to be a terran street performer, dressed colorfully and absurdly. Why such a being had decided to seek him out, he had no idea. The awkward silence was broken when the older man cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Mr. Jaren, I presume?" he asked.

"Abathur, preferred title. Recommend use." Abathur was tired of humans using the other names. You would think they would learn at this point. He barely remembered them, he didn't see why others made the effort at all.

"Mr. Abathur then. Tell me, have you ever had anything strange happen to you, something that can not be explained?" Dumbledore said a twinkle in his eye. It didn't last.

"No," Abathur said quickly. Dumbledore's twinkles ceased.

"Are you absolutely sure? Think back, it may not have been a large, thing, but has there been-,"