Unqualified Dark Wizard

Dumbledore showed no shock or condemnation. He simply watched Lin Du quietly, his bright blue eyes holding an indescribable complexity, a mixture of understanding and perhaps deeper sorrow.

After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice as calm as a still lake:

"An ancient and incredibly tempting goal. So, in your years of exploration, especially after you focused on Dark Magic research, have you found any... promising paths? Even just theoretical possibilities?"

Hearing this question, the oppressive atmosphere Lin Du had exuded from revealing his secrets suddenly dissipated.

He seemed to switch states instantly, returning to the wizard with a hint of coldness and sharp insight, even a self-deprecating curve at the corner of his lips.

"Rewards?" he scoffed lightly.

"Nothing more than the textbook examples – the Philosopher's Stone and Horcruxes. Is there really a third option?"

"The Philosopher's Stone..." Dumbledore mused, a complex emotion flickering in his eyes as he thought of his old friend's creation, "Nicol's masterpiece, indeed the most 'harmless' known path to immortality."

"Harmless, but also impossibly out of reach," Lin Du interjected.

"I know my limits in alchemy – being able to create alchemical tools like 'American Iaijutsu' is about my peak. To replicate or even surpass the Philosopher's Stone? That path is essentially blocked for me. I don't have centuries to slowly study it."

Dumbledore nodded slightly, seemingly agreeing with his assessment. Then, his blue eyes sharpened, and he asked softly, "And... Horcruxes?"

"Horcruxes?" Lin Du sneered, making no effort to hide his disdain. "Secrets of Advanced Dark Magic spells it out clearly enough. Tearing the soul through murder... sounds simple, doesn't it?"

"It is indeed simple," Dumbledore smoothly continued, his gaze behind his half-moon spectacles full of meaning. "From a technical standpoint, creating a Horcrux requires less magical skill and more a resolve to abandon certain principles."

He leaned forward slightly. "Since you find this method so simple and direct, why haven't you tried it?"

"I'm not that insane!" Lin Du shot Dumbledore a look of helplessness. "Headmaster, you're asking what you already know."

He idly toyed with his teacup, his tone tinged with self-mockery. "Sealing a part of oneself within an object. Theoretically, it's a perfect evil plan for eternal life."

"But what's the price?" He put down his teacup, his expression becoming serious. "I admit I'm no saint, and I've dabbled in forbidden things while researching Dark Magic. But murder... that's an entirely different matter. Not only do you take a life, but you also tear your own soul apart at that very moment."

He shook his head, as if trying to dislodge the unpleasant image. "Just thinking about it makes me uncomfortable. It's a complete betrayal of oneself."

Dumbledore listened quietly, his gaze gentle.

"Besides," Lin Du's tone suddenly lightened, becoming somewhat teasing, "look at our dear Mr. Voldemort – from a talented, handsome young man to a noseless, snake-faced monster. That price is already terrifying enough. Even more absurd is that splitting his soul seemed to split his intelligence too; he carelessly misplaced such important things as Horcruxes."

He made a helpless gesture. "To achieve immortality, you not only have to be a murderer but also turn into a noseless, muddle-headed monster... This deal looks like a complete loss from any angle."

"A very wise choice." A flicker of approval crossed Dumbledore's eyes.

The office fell silent for a moment. Lin Du suddenly ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Honestly, Headmaster," he said, staring at his hands, "sometimes I can't sleep at night, and I think about how there might be a ready-made Horcrux hidden somewhere in the castle... It drives me crazy. I should have waited a few more days to tell you, maybe I could have figured something out..."

He let out a heavy sigh, as if to expel these wicked thoughts. "Isn't this kind of thought utterly despicable?"

Before Dumbledore could answer, he scoffed again. "Sometimes I really don't understand that old hat. Look at me now – dabbling in Dark Magic for knowledge, daring to research anything for longevity. If you ask me, I'm a Slytherin at heart."

Dumbledore gently set down his teacup, the bottom making a crisp sound against the saucer.

"You know, Lin Du," he said very softly, yet Lin Du involuntarily sat up straighter, "just now, you told me you regretted it."

Lin Du blinked in surprise.

"You regret telling me about the Basilisk too soon, regret missing the opportunity to research Horcruxes." Dumbledore's blue eyes gleamed behind his half-moon spectacles. "But you know what? A true Slytherin would never regret something like that. They would naturally put themselves first, weighing others' safety on a scale."

He leaned forward, his voice gentle but firm. "And you, despite your regret and your desire for that research opportunity – you still chose to inform me immediately. Between thought and action, you chose the more difficult path. That's why the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor."

Lin Du opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but swallowed it back. He rubbed his temples irritably.

"Furthermore," Dumbledore's gaze drifted out the window, "a spirit beast like Chao Feng understands the essence of a soul better than any of us. Its choice of you is the best proof."

Lin Du was silent for a long time. Finally, he sighed, a tone of resigned helplessness in his voice. "So, you're saying I'll never be a proper Dark Wizard in this lifetime?"

"I am very glad you are so 'improper'," Dumbledore nodded slightly, his gaze behind his half-moon spectacles deepening. "In fact, it is precisely this 'improperness' that has finally made me decide. To be honest, just an hour ago, I was still hesitating whether to let you participate in this matter."

He opened a drawer in his desk and put on a silver glove, his movements slow and deliberate. As his fingers touched the depths of the drawer, Lin Du noticed a flicker of solemnity cross the old man's brow. Dumbledore used this hand to retrieve a black diary and placed it in the center of the desk.