Magic and the Theory of Doomsday

The air in Dumbledore's office was so still it seemed almost frozen.

Lin An Alvin's earlier discourse on "Wizarding Civilization" still echoed between every portrait and every candle flame.

Even the portraits of the former headmasters had fallen unusually silent.

Their expressions were complicated—there was longing, but also fear. Such a grand wizarding world, filled with order and power, was almost mythical.

At last, Phineas Black could not help but speak. With a cold laugh, he said, "Ha ha, Professor Lin, only a noble pure-blood aristocrat like you could dream of such a 'perfect' civilization."

The moment he finished speaking, Headmistress Dewent in the neighboring portrait frowned in displeasure and shot him a fierce glare.

Lin An merely smiled faintly, his gaze as calm as a lake. "In the world I envision, the word 'aristocrat' would still exist, but it would no longer be tied to bloodline. An aristocrat would not be privileged by birth, but recognized for ability and contribution.

Powerful wizards, great researchers, heroes who protect the world—they deserve to be revered.

But if their descendants are incompetent, lazy, and merely occupy the family estate—then they deserve to inherit wealth, not status.

If there are still no accomplishments after three generations, even bloodline will lose its meaning."

His voice was gentle, yet it carried an irrefutable rationality.

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, complicated emotions flickering in his eyes.

"The ideal is beautiful," he said softly, "but building such a civilization will inevitably be accompanied by bloodshed and war. History does not gently bring dreams to fruition."

"And," his tone shifted slightly, "what about Muggles? Where would they stand in the world you envision?"

Lin An lightly tapped his fingertips against his teacup, firelight flickering in his eyes.

"You are right, Professor. If Wizarding Civilization is truly to rise, it will indeed commit countless atrocities.

But please tell me—what great civilization in this world was not born from war and sacrifice?"

Dumbledore did not refute him. He merely sighed.

"Then, do you intend to start that war?"

Lin An suddenly smiled, his voice low and calm.

"No. I have already given up."

At that moment, every portrait in the room revealed its surprise. Phineas was so shocked he nearly jumped out of his frame.

"You gave up?!" he cried.

Lin An took a sip of tea, looking utterly composed.

"Yes. I gave up because I understood—the true endgame will not be initiated by wizards."

"What do you mean?" Dumbledore's tone became cautious.

"I often wondered afterward, if human civilization continued to develop like this, what would its end be?

The answer I reached was—war would eventually break out.

And that war would not be started by wizards, but by Muggles."

Phineas scoffed. "Nonsense! How would Muggles dare declare war on us? A few Imperius Curses would be enough to make their leaders kneel and beg for mercy!"

Lin An turned to look at him, his gaze calm.

"Did you know? More than twenty years ago, Muggles had already landed on the moon."

"Landed... on the moon?" Phineas frowned, looking somewhat lost.

"Yes," Lin An said softly. "They used science and steel to cross the skies. That was only the beginning.

Their technology is advancing at a speed even magic cannot match.

You may mock their weakness, but you cannot deny their intelligence.

And what about wizards? We still use medieval laws, still copy scrolls with quills.

Over the centuries, what has been our greatest achievement? The Philosopher's Stone? That was created six hundred years ago.

We have Space Magic, yet we have never even gone to the moon.

Meanwhile, Muggles have already begun exploring the stars."

He slowly raised his head, his tone turning sharp. "We pride ourselves on being mysterious and noble, but in truth, we have long since become stagnant.

The Muggle world is advancing at breakneck speed, while the wizarding world rots in place."

His words brought different expressions to the portraits. Some were furious, while others fell into thought.

Only Dumbledore remained quiet, though the worry in his eyes deepened.

Phineas said angrily, "As long as we control their rulers, everything can be solved! Imperius Curse, Confundus Charm, Obliviate—those are more than enough to make them slaughter one another!"

"Not entirely correct." Lin An shook his head faintly. "People with strong wills can resist the Imperius Curse, and their numbers far exceed ours.

Seven billion—a number we do not even dare imagine.

How many can you control? A hundred? A thousand?

Wars are not won by spells, but by will and systems.

When their weapons cover the skies, when machines need no sleep, when information travels faster than magic—

Any spell will be drowned beneath a storm of metal."

Phineas opened his mouth, but could not say another word.

Lin An looked at Dumbledore, his expression calm. "If Muggles and wizards ever truly go to war, wizards will inevitably lose."

The air froze. Some portraits cursed in rage, while others sighed in sorrow. Only Dumbledore continued to watch him quietly.

"But you just said—you had already given up those ambitions. Then why speak of this theory of doomsday?"

Lin An's fingers gently traced the rim of his teacup.

"Because I want to tell you—the extinction of wizards does not mean the end.

If we lose, we may instead welcome a new awakening.

The collapse of the old order is the beginning of a new civilization.

Muggle science will force wizards to rethink the nature of magic, to understand the unity of energy, matter, and soul.

We will be forced to change, from secrecy to reason, from mystery to true knowledge.

Destruction and rebirth are simply two sides of the same coin."

Dumbledore said softly, "You believe war might instead save the wizards?"

"Perhaps." Lin An laughed softly. "History is never gentle, but it is always fair.

It will clear away decayed souls and leave behind the races that can adapt to the future.

I no longer fantasize about the glory of ruling the world. I only hope—

When the flames burn away the old world, there will still be someone to pick up the light within the ashes."

The firelight swayed, casting dim shadows across their profiles.

It was a collision between ideal and reality, faith and reason.

The wind outside gradually rose, like the whisper of distant years.

Dumbledore slowly stood, his gaze profound. "You remind me of what Grindelwald was like in his youth."

Lin An smiled faintly. "The difference is, I know when to stop."