Chapter 30: I Forge My Own Path Through a Thousand Calamities; Why Should I Borrow the Methods of Others?

Ever since Roger regained his freedom, Dumbledore had been watching him from the shadows.

In Dumbledore’s eyes, Roger was exemplary in every way save for one: his ambition, which caused the Headmaster to frown.

Immortality!

Had Roger merely pursued a long life, Dumbledore would have felt nothing; after all, one of his own old friends was an immortal. But "immortality"—true, eternal existence—was a different concept entirely. It was a path that was all but impossible. As one of the world's foremost experts on magic, Dumbledore could stand firmly by that assertion.

Roger was exceptional now, but what would happen when he truly stepped onto that path, only to discover the sheer despair awaiting him further ahead?

Dumbledore did not want to gamble. He dared not, and he would not.

Thus, entrusting the Philosopher's Stone to Roger was an act of trust, a test, and, in a sense, a strike against him. Yet, Dumbledore’s strike was not aimed at Roger's life, but at his ideals. Understanding the nature of a visionary, Dumbledore would not play the riddle-maker as he had in the past—that would be like brandishing a sword in front of a master swordsman. Instead, he chose to lay his cards on the table.

"Roger, you won't be helping for nothing. When this is all over, I will introduce you to someone. I have heard from Professor McGonagall about your aspirations, and I believe he could be of great help to you," Dumbledore said.

Entrusting the Stone was a show of faith, but also a test. Dumbledore had seen too much in his life. He knew how treacherous the road to immortality was. Could Roger resist the temptation of such an attainable prize?

This was the first test: Could he hold his resolve?

The letter Dumbledore gave Roger was not merely a note for the professors granting him the authority to act as he saw fit; it was a magical artifact in its own right. It could command the majority of Hogwarts' resources, including certain permissions within the Headmaster's office—essentially granting him half the authority of a temporary headmaster.

Roger had always been devoted to magic and kind to his peers. He treated not only the Gryffindors but even the Slytherins with fairness, never choosing to exclude those he deemed "different." He focused on himself while treating others with equality and friendship. But would he remain this way once he ascended to a position of power? Would he use his influence for ill? Would his position warp his character?

Dumbledore had seen too many politicians who were entirely different people once they held power, and too many who, while claiming to act for the "greater good," lost themselves in the mire of the world. Now, with no armies forcing him to the brink of life and death, if Roger were to cross the line, there would be no immediate, severe consequences.

This was the second test: Could he remain uncorrupted?

Again, he asked: Could he hold his resolve?

"I will recommend that you study with him for a time. If you are interested and he is not opposed, I might even suggest you become his apprentice. Based on my understanding of him, he might even be willing to teach you how to create the Philosopher's Stone... You know who I am speaking of, don't you?" Dumbledore looked at Roger with a gentle gaze.

Roger had chosen a path riddled with thousands of obstacles. Dumbledore, having watched him closely, had discovered what Voldemort had noticed as well: Roger’s talent was once in a century. And the greater the ability, the greater the potential impact. If Roger were to go astray on his path to immortality, he would not only destroy himself but potentially drag countless wizards and Muggles into the abyss.

He could not stand by and watch that possibility take root. Thus, he chose to strike.

Dumbledore’s three tests were, in essence, three lethal blows. The power and the Stone were traps; if Roger failed, the corruption and loss of direction would shatter his indomitable spirit—the very source of magical power. Without that unyielding will, his future would be forfeit. Dumbledore, capable of cleaning up the mess, would have no need for further action. He had never intended to throw Roger into Azkaban for mistakes; he was always tolerant of children, provided they did not stray into true wickedness.

But the third strike was the most lethal of all, for it drew no blood. Dumbledore was not lying. He truly wanted to recommend Roger to his dear friend, to find a successor for a man who had lived for over six hundred years and was perhaps growing weary.

If Roger failed to resist the temptation and abandoned his impossible dream of true immortality for the sake of the stone and the elixir, Dumbledore would consider it a "good" ending. Unlike the stone Roger currently held, which would eventually be consumed, learning how to make one would allow him to live for thousands of years.

A one-in-a-billion chance for true immortality versus a hundred-percent certainty of a long life. How would he choose?

This was an unsolvable, open conspiracy. This was the third test—the final strike.

Three questions: Could he hold his resolve?

"I know... Master Alchemist Nicolas Flamel. I am indeed in great need of knowledge regarding alchemy. Thank you, Headmaster." Roger knew that guarding the Stone and learning from Flamel were not equivalent. He did not like owing favors, but when he truly needed something, he would not let pride stand in his way. Debts could be repaid later, but some opportunities never returned.

"However, as for becoming an apprentice or the Philosopher's Stone, I will pass. I have my own path to walk," Roger said firmly.

It was not that he had any objection to Flamel or the Stone. It was simply that immortality was a long and arduous road, and a long life was merely the first step at the starting line. If he were to abandon his foundation at the very beginning, choosing a shortcut on a path he did not understand and was not suited for, then surely, he was not destined to reach the end. A will so weak would never deserve the fruit of immortality.

"I see," Dumbledore replied, nodding noncommittally.

To a man of Dumbledore's experience, words meant little. It was action that mattered. He would wait to see Roger's future choices. Would he be bewitched by the Stone? Drowned in the poison of power? Or would he abandon his ideals for the sake of reality?

And if he were to overcome all of these... if he truly could break through the three barriers of greed, anger, and ignorance? Then Dumbledore would never again interfere with Roger's path. Such a terrifyingly strong mind would deserve to attempt that path—the dead end that countless brilliant wizards throughout history had failed to traverse.

...

Unaware that Dumbledore’s gentle, well-intentioned killing blows hung over his head, Roger walked toward Professor McGonagall’s office.

The Professor had said she would have time this afternoon. Roger was curious: in this world, magic was the echo of the heart, and charms and potions were parts of the ritual magic system. So, what exactly was alchemy?

His eyes were filled with anticipation.