Albus Dumbledore listened quietly to Linus’s explanation, his fingers idly twirling a lemon drop, his eyes warm and profound.
“Professor Alvin,” he said slowly, “with your talent and distinction, whether you chose the Ministry of Magic, a research institute, or a life of quiet study, you could easily obtain wealth and status.
Why return to Hogwarts to be a mere teacher?” His words were soft, yet they carried the edge of an unseen blade, probing and searching.
Linus raised his eyes slightly, looking straight into the blue eyes hidden behind the half-moon spectacles.
Dumbledore’s gaze seemed capable of peering into the deepest flickers of his soul.
Yet Linus merely picked up his teacup with calm composure and offered a faint smile.
“You always do this,” he said.
“You love to look at me with that gaze, as if I might turn into another Tom Riddle at any moment.” The air instantly froze.
The portraits on the wall gasped in low voices, and several former headmasters even lifted their heads.
Only the portrait of Phineas wore a look of schadenfreude.
Dumbledore remained serene, slowly taking a bite of his sour candy.
“Linus, you cannot blame me.
Your rise coincided perfectly with Tom’s fall.
The similarities between the two of you are indeed hard to ignore.” “Talent, ambition, and that hunger for unknown power—” “—Hunger for truth, Headmaster,” Linus interrupted, his tone calm yet razor-sharp.
“What I seek is not power, but knowledge.
Power is merely a byproduct of knowledge, not the destination.” Dumbledore stared at him, letting out a soft sigh.
“Perhaps so.
Yet in your fourth year, the whole school was calling you a ‘Master of the Dark Arts.’ Was that title a misconception as well?” Linus shook his head, his expression remaining impassive.
“I study Dark magic not to submit to it, but to understand it.
Dark magic and light magic are two sides of the same coin.
Light and shadow coexist; denying the dark is nothing more than cowardice.
I admit that Dark magic corrupts the mind, but if governed by reason, it becomes a tool, not a cage.” “That is arrogance,” Dumbledore said softly, though sorrow lurked beneath his words.
“Wizards who believe they can command the dark are almost always consumed by it in the end.
Even I dare not claim to be an exception.” Linus looked up, his tone unwavering.
“And wizards who flee from the dark are ultimately ruled by it.” Their words collided in the air, leaving behind an iron silence.
The fire in the hearth flickered, throwing intertwining shadows across the wall.
At this moment, they seemed to stand at opposite poles of the magical world—one believing in restraint and benevolence, the other in reason and supreme truth.
Dumbledore set down his teacup slowly and murmured, “The greatest difference between you and Tom is that you still believe in the beauty of the world.” Linus fell silent.
A moment later, he gave a faint smile.
“Perhaps.
It’s just that to my eyes, that ‘beauty’ is no longer simple good or evil, but an order—a truth that can be deduced and understood.” He tilted his head slightly, looking out the window.
The night sky was deep, stars glimmering faintly in the distance.
“Headmaster, have you ever considered that humanity and wizards will eventually reach an end?” Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, staying silent.
Linus spoke slowly.
“When I was younger, I had a dream—to build a true wizarding civilization.” “A civilization no longer suppressed by Muggle society, nor locked in self-isolation.
I wanted to unite wizards across the globe, gathering all knowledge and resources to propel our magical society forward, so that we might reach for the stars.” A flicker of surprise flashed in Dumbledore’s eyes.
“The stars?” Linus smiled.
“Muggle scientists have long proven the vastness of the universe; Earth is but a speck of dust in the Milky Way.
They ask if other life exists.
And I, too, wondered—are there other worlds, other dimensions, that have nurtured ‘wizards’ of their own?” With a slight movement of his finger, his teacup hovered into the air, its steam shaping into a trail of starlight.
“I used to imagine that one day we could step beyond Earth to seek out those civilizations.
Perhaps we could exchange magical systems, energy models, and biological structures with them.
If we shared knowledge, magical civilization would enter a true golden age— Spells, potions, and alchemy would be redefined; New magical creatures and unknown flora would be discovered; We would explore the essence of time and space, death and love, soul and consciousness.
Wizards would no longer be short-lived mortals, but an immortal species in pursuit of cosmic truth.” In the firelight, his eyes seemed to burn with starlight.
“Back then, I thought that was the ultimate goal.” He paused, his voice softening slightly.
“But later, I realized it was merely a dream.” Dumbledore did not interrupt, only watching him quietly.
“The deeper my research went, the more I understood the boundary between magic and human nature.
We might be able to explore the stars, yet we cannot transcend the shadow of the human heart.
On the path of seeking knowledge, arrogance is far more lethal than Dark magic.
I once wanted to lead wizarding civilization across dimensions, yet I also glimpsed another end— When power loses its restraint, it ceases to be a ladder toward civilization and becomes the seed of destruction.” The fire crackled softly, illuminating their profiles.
Dumbledore slowly stood up, his gaze benevolent yet profound.
“Linus, perhaps that is the real reason you have returned.” Linus was silent for a long time, then smiled faintly.
“Perhaps.
In the end, one must learn to make peace with the world.” “Yet I still believe that the limit of magic lies not in power, but in understanding.” Dumbledore offered an almost wistful smile.
“May you always remember what you have said today.” The two looked at each other in silence, surrounded only by the faint crackle of the hearth fire.
It was a silent resonance, a dialogue bridging fundamental ideals.
The night grew deeper as a breeze slipped through the window cracks, carrying the scent of tea.
Outside, the starlight continued to twinkle in the distant abyss— As if answering a vow buried by time: “Seek truth, even to the ends of the stars.”