Professor, What Do You Think About Killing?

Regulus's posture was relaxed and his tone was slightly teasing. "How many places have you traveled to in the past few months? How many people have you recruited to join your team?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes looked at him, and his tone was gentle. It couldn't be said that he was disappointed, but there was no surprise. "I traveled to a lot of places. I met some old friends and colleagues, the retired former Auror, a reclusive scholar, a few lone wizards who are close to Ministry of Magic, I visited a few in the south, and also went to the coast in the north."

He counted on his fingers, then stretched his hands into Cockroach Cluster: "There are fewer promises, more wait-and-sees, and more direct rejections."

"Everyone has something they want Protection," the old man said with understanding in his voice, "There are not many people who can drop everything to fight a war that has not yet started."

This is not the first time he has faced this situation. When Grindelwald rose decades ago, he was like this too, convincing everyone one by one.

History repeats itself, and he is still doing the same thing.

"It's not that they don't want to fight," he took another Cockroach Cluster, held it between two fingers, watched it struggle on his fingertips, and then threw it into his mouth. "The way to fight is not necessarily to pick up the wand and go to the battlefield. Some people's way is to guard the door of their own home, some people say a few more words in Ministry of Magic, or teach their children well, these all count."

Regulus nodded. "What about the ones who agreed?"

"A few old guys, good-natured people, agreed as soon as they heard about the situation. There is also a retired Potions division who lives on the northern coast of Scotland and agreed to help keep an eye on the movements there." A little light flashed in Dumbledore's blue eyes. "It's not many, but it's enough. If the seeds are sown, not all of them will sprout, but a few will grow out."

Regulus picked up the teacup and took a sip. It was so sweet that it made his throat tight. He put the teacup back on the saucer and pushed it forward.

Dumbledore looked amused behind the table. He also picked up his tea cup, took a big sip, and then made a hissing sound from his throat, with a face full of enjoyment.

His blue eyes blinked behind the half-moon lenses, feeling an inexplicable sense of superiority.

Regulus is a little speechless.

Dumbledore put down the tea cup, took off the glasses from the bridge of his nose, wiped the lenses with his robe, put them back on, looked at Regulus with blue eyes, and his tone changed a little.

"The night you were at Provence Manor, French Ministry of Magic's report only had a vague conclusion, but I heard about the specific process."

Regulus raised his eyebrows.

The old man didn't explain how he heard about it, and he didn't ask. As he thought, the old man had been paying attention to him, so there was no surprise.

The old man continued, "More than forty people, a thirteen-year-old wizard faced them head-on, and finally set a blue-white fire above their heads."

His tone was a bit incomprehensible. "That fire is very special."

Regulus saw the old man's eyes, there was a faint layer of reminiscence in them, the focus dispersed for a moment, he was still looking at him, but at the same time it was as if he was looking through him, at another scene from long ago.

The blue eyes paused on his face for a moment, then moved away, landed on Fawkes, and then returned.

After a moment, Dumbledore's tone returned to normal. "The scale of the flames and the output of Magic Power are both amazing. The will directly drives the elements without going through the spell structure. There are not many wizards who can do this."

Regulus knows what the old man is thinking.

Blue Flame, Paris, 1945.

"Professor, the award was given." He bowed slightly in his chair, with a respectful attitude and a humble tone. "Compared to that one, it's far behind."

Dumbledore's blue eyes blinked, then blinked again, and then focused back again, with a hint of helplessness in his tone. "Do you have to mention him at this time?"

Regulus raised the corner of his mouth slightly, leaned back, folded his hands and put them on his knees, with a straight posture, a more straight expression, and a less straight tone. "Oh, I took the liberty."

"Ho ho ho." Dumbledore was amused by his virtue, shook his head, and his white beard swayed accordingly.

The two of them were quiet for a moment. The old man took back the memories in his eyes and became clear again. "How long did you hold on to the fire that night?"

Regulus thought for a while, "It takes about thirteen or four minutes from the time the fire curtain takes shape to the time it dissipates."

"Tired?"

"A little bit."

Regulus did not deny it. During the ten minutes when the blue and white fire curtain covered the sky, his will was constantly pulling against the flames.

The fire wanted to expand outward, but he held it back. The fire wanted to burn things on the ground, so he limited its range. The fire wanted to change from blue-white to a purer white, so he pressed it back.

"You have done many things that adult wizards cannot do in their lifetime, and you have even crossed the boundaries of conventional Magic." Dumbledore nodded and praised first. He folded his hands on the table and leaned his body slightly forward against the edge of the table. "But what I see is that you are using your will to suppress the flame and let it act according to your intention. You are restraining it, and you are doing a good job, but it is still being suppressed by you."

Regulus also nodded.

He did indeed do this, restraining it with his will and guiding it with his spirit.

"Fiendfyre, you are using it very well," Dumbledore turned a corner and said Fiendfyre in a casual voice, "But you are doing the same thing as that fire curtain, using The will of Protection follows the destructive tendency of Fiendfyre. It wants to burn, but you don't let it burn. You have been wrestling with each other, and you won every time, but you are still wrestling with it."

Regulus was thoughtful and had roughly guessed what the old man was going to say, so he didn't interrupt and listened quietly.

As for the old man knowing how to use his Fiendfyre, there is nothing strange about it.

"The explosive flame Magic you used in Geralt," Dumbledore's blue eyes looked at him. "Fire-Making Spell plus the explosive will, the way is different. The explosive will and the flame are in the same direction. If you want to rush, it also wants to rush. There is no need to suppress it, you just need to synchronize with it."

"You have touched a door," Dumbledore said, "In the direction of the explosion, your will and the flame are unified. You did it, but on Fiendfyre's side you are still using another set, Guardian Will to suppress the tendency of destruction."

"You separated Protection from explosion," he raised two fingers. "Have you ever thought that Protection and destruction are not necessarily opposites?"

Without waiting for his answer, the old man continued, "Fiendfyre wants to burn everything, then tell it what to burn. Protection A person's way can be to burn all threats close to him, and destruction itself can become Protection.

When what you want Protection coincides with what it wants to burn, you don't need to fight. You stand on its side, and it stands on your side."

His tone relaxed. "Do you know what Fiendfyre was originally created for?"

"Suppress high-threat dark creatures," Regulus said without thinking, "Build a flame barrier to defend against large-scale invasion."

"They are all of Protection nature," Dumbledore looked at him with satisfaction. "The oldest usage of Fiendfyre is Protection. It was later abused and used as a pure tool of destruction, and it became something that needs to be suppressed before it can be used."

He picked up the tea cup and took a sip, and said softly, "You used Guardian Will to suppress Fiendfyre, but the direction was reversed. Guardian Will should not be Fiendfyre's chain, it is Fiendfyre's nature. When your relationship is no longer confrontational, all Fiendfyre needs is a goal."

Regulus frowned slightly, and the scene of taming Fiendfyre for the first time flashed through his mind.

Orange-red flames gush out from between the sticks, rolling and scorching, with a strong urge to destroy, wanting to burn everything down.

When he pressed Guardian Will, the flames became quiet and danced on his fingertips.

At that moment, he felt an indescribable sense of closeness.

He always thought that the feeling of closeness came from his strong will, which convinced Fiendfyre and tamed it.

But Dumbledore's words gave him another perspective. Fiendfyre was waiting for him, waiting for him to discover that they could be the same thing.

The old man's meaning is very clear. From suppression to unification, Fiendfyre does not need to be suppressed, it needs direction.

Guardian Image of Bellatrix, the explosive image of Betelgeuse, and the tendency of autonomous destruction of Fiendfyre, three systems, three directions, the underlying logic can be unified.

Protection and destruction, collection and release, are originally two sides of the same thing.

His brows relaxed and the corners of his mouth widened a little. "So that's it."

Dumbledore Looking at his expression, the light in his blue eyes became gentler.

smart kid.

Fawkes changed its position on the perch, pulled out its head from under the wings, turned its bright black eyes, looked at Regulus, then at Dumbledore, and then put the head back again.

Headmaster's Office was quiet for a while.

Regulus's eyes paused on Fawkes, then looked back at Dumbledore.

The old man mentioned France, saw his Magic, and saw his choice. More than forty people fell at his feet, and no one was killed by him.

Dumbledore saw him and did not kill anyone.

Just right.

He was silent for a moment, then raised his eyes and said directly, "Professor, I have something to ask you."

Dumbledore nodded and looked at him quietly.

"What do you think about murder?"

Dumbledore was putting a Cockroach Cluster into his mouth. His hand stopped in mid-air, hanging there, and then slowly put Cockroach Cluster back into the plate.

His blue eyes lowered, looking at the table, falling into silence.

Every time someone mentions the word murder in front of him, the same picture flashes in his mind.

In that three-party melee, Aberforth's spell, Gellert's spell, and his own spell, after the three lights intertwined, Ariana fell to the ground.

More than a hundred years have passed, and this picture has not faded.

But this silence is not all because of Ariana.

The person asking this question is Regulus.

If someone else asks, he can give a standard answer: the weight of life, the cost of the soul, and the cycle of violence.

But Regulus does not require a standard answer.

From the moment he saw the blue-white flames and the sight of more than forty people lying alive at his feet, he knew that sooner or later this child would come and ask this question.

A person who can fight to that level without killing anyone, a person who already possesses this kind of power, and a person who can protect his soul. To ask him about his attitude towards killing is definitely not asking for permission, let alone a moral judgment.

Regulus's way of asking this question is not the way of someone who is hesitating.

People who hesitate ask whether killing is right, and people who don't hesitate ask what you think. The former wants an answer, while the latter wants confirmation.

"You ask me this question," Dumbledore's blue eyes refocused on Regulus's face, and his voice was very soft. "Is it because you haven't decided yet, or because you have already decided?"

Regulus's eyes did not dodge. "It has been decided."

After returning from vacation, there are some things that need to be done. They have been decided long ago, so there is no need to delay them.

"Then don't hesitate," Dumbledore said, "Hesitation is more dangerous than killing people. Hesitation will make you slow, and being slow will make you or the people around you pay the price."

He looked at Regulus gently, with no judgment or permission in his eyes, just looking at a young man he trusted. "After you are done, if you can't sleep, if you need someone to sit and talk for a while, you know how to find me."

Regulus looked at the old man. There was a desk and an age difference of nearly a century between his gray eyes and blue eyes.

The corners of his mouth grinned, his eyes sparkled, and then he nodded.

The topic did not go any further, and the atmosphere suddenly relaxed.

Dumbledore said that he will continue to run outside during the summer vacation. There are several Werewolf camps that need to be confirmed, and a few old guys on the northern coast are willing to help keep an eye on that area.

Then asked Regulus: "What are your plans for the holiday?"

"Stay at home," Regulus said with a very sincere expression, "Study hard, read hard, and do homework well."

Dumbledore stared at him for a long time and sighed, this kid is talking nonsense again.

After sitting for a while, Regulus stood up and bowed slightly. "Have a nice holiday, Professor."

Dumbledore smiled, "Happy holiday, Regulus."

Regulus turned around and walked towards the door, deliberately slowing down as he passed Fawkes's perch.

Fawkes had already pulled his head out from under the wings, and was combing the feathers on his chest with his golden-red beak. When he felt his gaze, he turned his bright black eyes to look at him, and then continued combing.

Regulus's mouth twitched.

Isn't it just a bird?

He can also have one in the future.

Pushing the door open and going out, Spiral Staircase slowly sank, and another clear chirp from Fawkes came from the office behind her.