In 1991, at a dock on Manhattan Island, New York City, USA, a sinister transaction was taking place. This place, which should have only been witnessed by darkness, had an unexpected third party lurking tonight.
On the steel beams above the dock warehouse, a shadow almost blending into the night was coldly observing the two parties involved in the deal. Suddenly, the lights went out, and the brightly lit warehouse was instantly plunged into complete darkness.
"Who's in pain! Take a big spit to eat!" A voice that sounded unusually young echoed above them.
The sound of something cutting through the air was heard, as if a fast-moving object was plummeting downward. Along with the sounds of collision and splashing water, a brief scream erupted from the crowd below but was abruptly cut off.
The muzzle flashes briefly illuminated the interior of the warehouse, but when they looked up, no enemy was in sight.
"Who repaired the dam!" Following this strange shout was the sound of even greater water flow.
Then, various frustrated voices filled the warehouse. A shadow darted back and forth inside.
From the initial burst of gunfire to sporadic shots, and then back to silence, only a few minutes had passed.
The warehouse door slowly opened, and a young boy walked out. The moonlight gently illuminated his face, outlining his perfect features. Under the half-light, his long black eyelashes fluttered slightly, and his heterochromatic eyes emitted an eerie glow in the night.
Just as he was about to leave, the boy suddenly paused, his gaze fixed on a sports car outside the warehouse. Moments later, the roar of the engine faded into the distance, leaving behind a mess at the dock.
After the boy left, two transparent figures suddenly appeared out of thin air on the open ground beside the warehouse.
"It seems young Kyle is quite lively. What do you think, Newt?" One of them, an old man with a long white beard, looked at his companion and spoke with a smile.
The man called Newt slowly replied, "Without any formal teaching, he has mastered the advanced skill of wandless magic and even created a few interesting spells. I think Hogwarts is about to get lively."
The white-bearded old man seemed quite pleased with Newt's assessment and spoke with a hint of pride, "After all, he carries part of the Dumbledore bloodline."
Hearing Albus Dumbledore's boast, Newt mercilessly retorted, "But he doesn't bear the Dumbledore name."
Dumbledore's face darkened at the remark. "Kyle is still half my son, so to speak!"
Newt thought for a moment and added another jab, striking right at Dumbledore's heart. "The half-son you sent to an orphanage and then lost?"
Dumbledore, exasperated, decided not to discuss anything related to Kyle's origins with Newt anymore.
"Let's go! We need to pick up Kyle!" With a loud crack, Dumbledore vanished on the spot. Shortly after, Newt also disappeared, leaving only the increasingly close sound of police sirens echoing over the dock.
...
A sports car sped under the moonlight, the roar of its engine carrying far along the deserted road. Soon, the car entered an abandoned factory in Brooklyn and came to a stop on a flat surface.
Kyle sat in the driver's seat, calmly forming a few hand seals.