For a few seconds, Dumbledore simply stared, feeling a long-lost, helpless sort of amusement rise up in his chest.
So this was what it felt like to be lectured.
No wonder Tom had always looked so annoyed whenever he'd tried to "guide" him.
Then Dumbledore's expression steadied. He fixed Theodore with a deep look and asked, his tone meaningful,
"So you're saying, Theodore, that you haven't been studying the Dark Arts in the Restricted Section?"
"I trust your professors have already taught you one thing: Dark magic, while powerful, is not something easily controlled."
"I would strongly prefer not to see a student with such limitless potential go astray—especially considering we already have one such example."
[The South-Pole Elder's face turned stern; clouds rolled, winds boiled in from all directions.
As the eldest disciple of the Chan Sect, he could not bear to see such fine jade and good timber slip into the crooked path. His words were already carrying the weight of a thunderous rebuke.]
Even without the System's prompts, Theodore had already understood.
After living through Voldemort, Dumbledore was understandably skittish when it came to "gifted" students—a man bitten by a snake would fear even a rope for ten years.
The current strict management of the Restricted Section was almost certainly a direct consequence of that.
If he claimed he'd been holed up in there and somehow hadn't touched Dark magic, Dumbledore would never believe him.
But that was fine.
Theodore's eyes flashed.
Given Dumbledore's lifespan, status, and power, he had to have received an uncountable number of letters from so-called prodigies over the years.
He'd seen more "geniuses" than Theodore cared to imagine. For someone like that, ordinary talent wasn't enough to leave an impression.
If Theodore wanted to build a real connection with Dumbledore, it wasn't going to be easy.
Yes, he could try using Call Soul, Summon Spirit to summon Ariana's spirit—that might have dramatic effect and rocket their relationship forward.
But there was another possibility: that Dumbledore would instantly start wondering about his motives, and decide this boy was far too dangerous.
Unlike Snape, who was willing to throw away everything for Lily, Dumbledore had his guilt, but he also had a powerful sense of mission.
With him, Theodore couldn't afford to gamble recklessly on Soul-Calling. He needed to find another way in.
Dark magic—and the Reversed Demonic Source talent he'd just obtained—made for a perfect entry point.
So Theodore admitted it calmly.
"You're right. I have learned quite a few Dark spells from the Restricted Section."
Then he followed up with a line that made Dumbledore's brows snap together.
"But, Headmaster, I don't think the Dark Arts are as terrifying for me as they're supposed to be."
"The Killing Curse can take a life. So can a well-placed Blasting Curse."
"The Imperius Curse can control someone's mind. So can repeatedly altering a person's personality with Memory Charms."
"Dark magic can be used for good deeds, and light magic can be used to murder. Whether it's 'dark' or 'light' is ultimately decided by the wizard using it."
"As long as one's heart is set on doing good, even Dark magic can be white. And if someone is determined to do evil, then so-called 'white' magic will turn black in their hands…"
He hadn't even finished when Dumbledore's blue eyes suddenly sharpened, ice-cold.
"Theodore Ashbourne," he said, "you are already speaking the warped logic of someone charmed by Dark magic."
"Dark is dark, and light is light. Some spells are classified as Unforgivable for a reason. You can't redefine them by sheer force of personal will."
"It seems I truly have been too careless recently, to miss that you've been polluted to this degree. The Restricted Section should never have been opened to a first-year like you."
A heavy pressure rolled off him.
On Theodore's System screen, even the text seemed to grow weighty and oppressive.
[You expounded that when demonic arts are used righteously, they become righteous; when orthodox law is used wickedly, it becomes wicked. These words enraged the South-Pole Elder—he declared this was no correct doctrine, proof that you had already stepped into the demonic path.
In that instant it was as if the Nine Heavens pressed down, stars reversing their flow.
Recommendation: the host should immediately confess his mistake, swear off all demonic techniques, and promise never to enter the Demon Grotto again, or risk expulsion from the Chan Sect!]
Theodore, however, remained unmoved. A small smile curved his lips.
"Headmaster, what if I can prove that the problem isn't that Dark magic cannot be changed… but that everyone else's will simply isn't strong enough?"
The moment Dumbledore's fingers tightened around the Elder Wand, Theodore raised his own staff.
Reversed Demonic Source flared to life.
He cast Fiendfyre.
Dumbledore's pupils shrank. He was ready to snuff out the cursed blaze the instant it appeared—
—only to witness something that shook the foundations of his understanding.
Theodore had clearly spoken the incantation for Fiendfyre.
But what roared out of his staff was not that ravenous, corrupt black flame.
It was pure, sacred Gubraithian Fire.
And not only that. Theodore immediately followed with a low shout:
"Sectumsempra."
Dumbledore was intimately familiar with this spell of Snape's.
Yet the energy that whipped out in front of him now, while similar in effect, felt utterly different—its texture, its nature all wrong (or perhaps all right).
Theodore's voice was quiet, but clear.
"Do you believe me now, Headmaster?"
"If not…"
"Avada Kedavra."
A jet of deep black radiance burst forth, and Dumbledore couldn't help crying out,
"Stop!"
Even for someone as widely travelled as Dumbledore, the sight before him was staggering.
The Dark Arts—even the Unforgivable Curses—were, in Theodore's hands, changing from the ground up.
This simply overturned the basic rules of spell-casting.
Not even Dumbledore could immediately find an explanation.
The only explanation he could think of was the one Theodore himself had offered.
Magic, at its core, was an act of will. Incantations, wand movements, runes—those were only aids.
In theory, if one's intent were strong enough, anything was possible. Miracles could be dragged into being.
But for things to reach this level…
How pure did your heart have to be for that?
What kind of light must your inner world shine with?
This child was practically a mythic angel reborn.
He thought back to what he'd heard from Madam Pince: that every time Theodore entered the Restricted Section, he helped her clean the shelves.
If he'd truly been drunk on Dark magic, why would he waste time on something so thankless?
That alone said enough. Theodore Ashbourne's heart was open and upright.
The wariness in Dumbledore's gaze melted away. Instead, a trace of shame crept in.
Theodore Ashbourne was so guilelessly straightforward, such a good child—and yet he, Albus Dumbledore, had viewed him with such suspicion.
Dumbledore, Dumbledore… you grow old, and your heart grows dirty.
"That's enough, Theodore," he said at last. "It was my mistake. I owe you an apology."
On the System screen, the characters seemed to lighten again.
[Under immense pressure, you activated Reversed Demonic Source. The demonic arts in your hands became open and majestic, without a trace of baleful taint.
Seeing this, and recalling what the Guardian Immortal had said, the South-Pole Elder's heart was shaken. He finally accepted that your Dao-heart is utterly immovable—not only have you not gone astray, you have a peerless talent for the path of slaying demons and defending the Way.]
A small smile tugged at the corner of Theodore's mouth.
Reversed Demonic Source had done its job.
Dumbledore, that's what an invincible Dao-heart looks like.
At that moment, Dumbledore studied Theodore, open astonishment plain on his face.
In the past century, he'd seen more so-called prodigies than he could count. There had indeed been some excellent talents—but compared to himself and Gellert, they were all far behind.
Now, however, Theodore's ability genuinely amazed him.
If a student like this wasn't properly guided, it would be a monumental waste.
After a few seconds, Dumbledore spoke.
"Theodore," he said, "would you like to study magic under me?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, the System text flashed wildly.
[The South-Pole Elder, moved by your talent, has decided to take you under his wing and pass on his arts.
Your relationship with the South-Pole Elder has reached Casual Acquaintance!]
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