Dumbledore froze for a moment. Retirement syndrome—he had never heard the term before, but it did seem rather fitting.
Even the self-destructive urge he had felt before, upon closer examination, seemed to contain quite a bit of that.
It was not merely because he had lost his position as Hogwarts headmaster or his work as president of the International Confederation of Wizards. More than that, when facing Murphy, he could never find legitimate grounds to oppose him. Yet everything Murphy did was indeed a denial of everything he had once stood for. If he did not deny Murphy, then he was effectively denying himself.
Unable to firmly regard Murphy as an enemy, he had in fact been constantly torn apart inside, long exhausted in both body and mind.
For Dumbledore, this so-called retirement syndrome was actually the extreme confusion that came after the collapse of his self-identity.
The cause he had fought for all his life had been denied, and his life seemed meaningless.
As an old man, he could hardly feel a greater fear or loss than this.
Yet in that instant, Dumbledore suddenly felt somewhat relieved.
"You never seem confused, Murphy. Is it because you came from the future that you are so certain you are right?"
"Not exactly..." Murphy said. "I do not know about the gods either. In fact, I cannot be certain that I am right."
"Perhaps the gods are far more powerful than I imagined. Perhaps destroying the Statute of Secrecy is like tearing down our walls, leaving us facing the threat of extinction."
"However, Professor, I cannot know everything. I cannot obtain all the information—at least not yet. No one can obtain complete information. Every one of us has to make decisions within the limits of our own understanding."
"So in truth, all