“If the Muggles really win that war, they will destroy every last one of us!” An old wizard in one of the portraits shouted in anger.
Linus Alvin merely shook his head faintly, his tone calm to the point of indifference.
“No, they will not destroy us.
At least, not right away.” His gaze turned deep, as if peering across the years to behold a future yet to come.
“Once the Muggles win the war, they will not be satisfied with mere victory.
“They will be curious, envious, and filled with longing—desperate to possess everything we have.
“They will use science and rationality to deconstruct magic, treating wizards as research subjects, as lab rats.” The portraits broke into an uproar.
“They will dissect us, analyzing the source of magic within our bodies, our neural structures, and the characteristics of our souls.
“At first, they will only want to understand magic.
“But once they understand it, they will attempt to replicate it.
“And I believe they will ultimately succeed.” Linus’s voice was low and resolute.
“They will find a way to grant magic to Muggles.
“When that time comes, new wizards will emerge from Muggle society.
“I call them…
the New Magical Race.” He paused for a moment, as if weighing the significance of every word.
“These ‘new humans’ will combine science and magic to forge an entirely new civilization.
“Possessing rigorous minds and efficient systems, they will inherit the logic of technology alongside the creativity of magic.
“Even if only one percent of them awaken magic, their numbers will still far exceed the sum of all us wizards combined.
“That will be a new era—one that belongs to them, not to us.” Phineas Black stood up abruptly, nearly charging out of his picture frame.
“Absurd!
Pure fantasy!
How could such blasphemous delusions regarding magic ever come true?!” “Calm down, Phineas.” Dumbledore set down his teacup, his tone gentle, yet unable to conceal the deep shock beneath it.
He knew this young man was not boasting.
Every word Linus spoke felt as if it had echoed back from a distant future.
“You are merely proposing one possibility,” Dumbledore said slowly.
“The future is not yet set in stone.” Linus offered a faint smile.
“Perhaps.
But trends never lie.
“The rise and fall of civilizations never stall for the sake of faith.” Dumbledore stared at him and asked in a low voice, “Mr.
Alvin, you said this was one of the reasons you abandoned your ambitions.
What about the other half?” Linus fell silent for a moment before replying softly, “Because of my parents.” The flames in the fireplace flickered subtly.
In that instant, the entire office fell deathly quiet.
Even the portraits held their breath.
Linus’s voice lacked any dramatic inflection, making it sound all the more like a cold, hard confession.
“What killed them was not Voldemort, but this world.” Dumbledore’s eyebrows twitched slightly.
“Voldemort was merely the symptom—the embodiment of every flaw in wizarding society.
“The arrogance of pure-blood supremacists, the humiliation suffered by Muggle-borns, the divide between bloodlines, the decay of the old institution…
“All of these were the soil that birthed Voldemort.” He looked up, a trace of desolation flashing across his eyes.
“So my parents were not killed by a single man; they were murdered by the entire wizarding world.
“Back then, I thought to myself: even if I could truly establish a new civilization— “is such a race even worth saving?” The room fell into another long, heavy silence.
A few portraits sighed softly.
Headmistress Derwent said gently, “Child, your hatred runs too deep.” Linus did not reply, merely gazing quietly at the flames.
Dumbledore finally spoke.
“I understand your anger, and I mourn for your parents.
“But do not condemn the entire magical world because of the sins of a few.
“There are still many who strive to protect goodness and hope, just as your parents did.” Linus raised his gaze, his eyes cold and clear.
“The ‘few’ you speak of happen to be the rulers of this world.
“They command power, hoard resources, and dictate law and fate.
“The goodness of the majority is worth nothing in their presence.” These words made the atmosphere in the room grow even heavier.
Dumbledore opened his mouth, but ultimately offered no further defense.
—Linus had not told the whole truth.
He had indeed abandoned his grand plan to lead wizarding civilization, but not out of despair.
Rather, it was because he had found another path.
He believed that with his talent and knowledge, he would eventually find a way to travel between dimensions.
Once he could walk freely across different universes, he would no longer need the backing of any nation or race.
That was his ultimate goal— to embark on the path through the sea of stars and become an entity that spanned countless worlds.
His legend would be sung across infinite dimensions.
And the first step was to obtain the apex of alchemy—the Philosopher’s Stone.
This was his true purpose in returning to Hogwarts.
Dumbledore’s voice interrupted his train of thought.
“Then, Professor Alvin, could you tell me—why do you wish to return to Hogwarts to teach?” Linus smiled.
“Because my most cherished memories reside here.
“It taught me rationality, and it taught me how to dream.
“In a sense, it is my second home.
“Of course, there is one other minor reason.” He pointed toward the towering bookshelves behind him.
“I have long missed the volumes in the Restricted Section.
“Regrettably, back then, every time I wanted to enter, you were always standing at the door.” Dumbledore froze for a moment, then let out a laugh.
The laugh carried a hint of helplessness, but also a touch of relief.
The interview drew to a tranquil close.
Dumbledore asked a few more harmless questions before letting him take his leave.
Linus stood up and softly shut the door behind him.
The instant the wooden door clicked shut, the firelight reflected in the depths of Dumbledore’s eyes.
Phineas Black’s voice was the first to sound: “What a terrifying fellow.” “Terrifying?” another portrait asked, confused.
“Do you mean his ambition?” “No,” Phineas snorted.
“I mean his superficial ‘giving up.’ “Do you really believe a person like him would just stop here?
“If you ask me, he has already found another way.” Derwent sighed.
“Perhaps.
But maybe he is simply tired.” “Tired?
Ha!
If he were truly tired, he wouldn’t have come back to Hogwarts,” Phineas sneered.
“I’d bet he returned not to teach, but to carry on with his plan.” Dumbledore said nothing, merely staring quietly at the flames.
The firelight cast its glow upon his ancient eyes, wherein flickered an ethereal trace of worry.