The air in Dumbledore’s office was so still it felt almost frozen.
Linus Alvin’s earlier discourse on “wizarding civilization” still echoed between every portrait and every flickering candlelight.
Even the portraits of the former headmasters were uncharacteristically silent.
Their expressions were complex—filled with both longing and fear.
Such a grand wizarding world, bathed in order and power, sounded almost like a myth.
Finally, Phineas Black could not hold back any longer.
He sneered, “Haha, Professor Alvin.
Only a highborn pure-blood aristocrat like you could dream up such a ‘perfect’ civilization.” The moment the words left his mouth, Headmistress Derwent in the adjacent portrait frowned in displeasure and shot him a sharp glare.
Linus merely gave a faint smile, his eyes as calm as a mirror lake.
“In the world I envision, the word ‘aristocrat’ still exists, but it has nothing to do with bloodline.
Aristocracy is not a privilege of birth, but a symbol of capability and contribution.
“Powerful wizards, great researchers, and heroes who protect the world—they deserve to be venerated.
“But if their descendants are incompetent, lazy, and merely squandering the family estate—then they deserve only to inherit wealth, not status.
“If after three generations they have still accomplished nothing, then even their bloodline loses all meaning.” His voice was gentle, yet infused with an undeniable rationality.
Dumbledore remained silent for a moment, his eyes flickering with a complex light.
“It is a beautiful ideal,” he said softly.
“But building such a civilization inevitably brings blood and war.
History never gently fulfills a dream.” “And,” his tone shifted slightly, “what about Muggles?
In the world you envision, where do they fit in?” Linus tapped his fingertips lightly against his teacup, firelight shimmering deep within his eyes.
“You are entirely correct, Headmaster.
If wizarding civilization is to rise, it will indeed commit countless atrocities.
“But tell me—which great civilization in this world was not born out of war and sacrifice?” Dumbledore did not refute him; he merely let out a sigh.
“So, do you intend to wage that war?” Linus suddenly smiled, his voice low and composed.
“No, I have already given up on that.” In that instant, shock washed over every portrait in the room.
Phineas was startled so badly he nearly tumbled out of his frame.
“You gave up?!” he blurted out.
Linus took a sip of tea, his posture serene.
“Yes.
I gave up because I came to understand—the true endgame will not be initiated by wizards.” “What do you mean?” Dumbledore’s tone grew cautious.
“I later spent a great deal of time pondering: if human civilization continues down its current trajectory, what will the ultimate outcome be?
“The answer I arrived at is that war will inevitably break out.
“And this war will not be started by wizards—it will be ignited by Muggles.” Phineas sneered.
“Pure nonsense!
How would Muggles ever dare declare war on us?
A few Imperius Curses would have their leaders on their knees, begging for mercy!” Linus turned to look at him, his gaze serene.
“Did you know?
Over twenty years ago, Muggles set foot on the Moon.” “Set foot on…
the Moon?” Phineas frowned, looking somewhat bewildered.
“Yes,” Linus said softly.
“They used science and steel to cross the sky.
And that was only the beginning.
“Their technology is advancing at a pace that even magic cannot rival.
“You may mock them as weak, but you cannot deny their intelligence.
“And what about wizards?
To this day, we still rely on medieval laws and use quills to transcribe parchment scrolls.
“What has been our greatest achievement in hundreds of years?
The Philosopher’s Stone?
That was created six hundred years ago.
“We possess spatial magic, yet we haven’t even stepped foot on the Moon.
“Meanwhile, the Muggles have already begun exploring the stars.” He slowly raised his head, his tone growing sharp.
“We pride ourselves on being mysterious and noble, but in truth, we have long been stuck in our ways.
“The Muggle world moves forward at breakneck speed, while the wizarding world decays in place.” These words evoked varied expressions from the portraits.
Some grew furious; others fell deep into thought.
Only Dumbledore remained quiet, though the shadow of concern deep within his eyes grew darker.
Phineas said indignantly, “As long as we control their leaders, everything can be resolved!
The Imperius Curse, the Confundus Charm, the Memory Charm—they are more than enough to make them tear each other apart!” “Not entirely,” Linus shook his head calmly.
“Those with strong wills can resist the Imperius Curse, and their numbers vastly outstrip ours.
“Seven billion—a number we can scarcely comprehend.
“How many can you control?
A hundred?
A thousand?
“War is not won by individual spells; it is won by willpower and systems.
“When their weapons cover the sky, when machines do not need sleep, when the flow of information travels faster than magic— “any single spell will be drowned out in a storm of steel.” Phineas opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Linus looked at Dumbledore, his expression calm.
“If the day ever comes when Muggles and wizards go to war, the wizards will inevitably lose.” The air froze.
Among the portraits, some cursed angrily, while others lamented softly.
Only Dumbledore continued to stare at him in silence.
“Yet you mentioned earlier that you have abandoned those ambitions.
Why, then, present this apocalyptic theory?” Linus gently stroked the rim of his teacup with his finger.
“Because I want to tell you that the demise of wizards does not mean the end of everything.
“If we lose, it might instead herald a new awakening.
“The collapse of the old order is the starting point of a new civilization.
“Muggle science will force wizards to rethink the nature of magic, to understand the unification of energy, matter, and soul.
“We will be forced to change—moving from secrecy toward rationality, and from mystery back to true knowledge.
“Destruction and rebirth are merely two sides of the same coin.” Dumbledore said softly, “So you believe war could actually redeem wizards?” “Perhaps,” Linus let out a soft chuckle.
“History is never gentle, but it is always just.
“It purges corrupt souls and leaves behind a species capable of adapting to the future.
“I no longer dream of the glory of dominating the world; I only hope that— “when the fire burns away the old world, someone will still be able to gather the light from the ashes.” The firelight flickered, illuminating the dim silhouettes of the two men.
It was a collision between ideal and reality, faith and rationality.
The wind outside began to pick up, sounding like the whispers of distant years.
Dumbledore slowly stood up, his gaze profound.
“You remind me of Gellert Grindelwald in his youth.” Linus gave a quiet smile.
“The difference is, I know when to stop.”