Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures - H.P.S.T Chapter 1594: Greatness

Judging a wizard’s goodness or badness based on whether or not he practiced the Dark Arts was far too hasty.

It was true that Dark Magic was composed of negative emotions and energies, but it was not limited to harming others or committing evil deeds.

Similarly, so-called White Magic and general spells were not all used for benevolent purposes. Magic itself carried no inherent good or evil; what mattered was the intentions of the wizard wielding it. The key to judging whether a wizard was a Dark wizard lay in whether the wizard himself was evil, not in the kind of magic he practiced.

Of course, because of their cruelty and wicked nature, Dark wizards were far more uninhibited in their use of Dark Magic and wielded it with greater ease than ordinary wizards.

That said, Dumbledore’s past practice of the Dark Arts was unusual, at least to Harry.

Looking at Doge’s pained and flustered face, Harry felt miserable.

He didn’t care whether Dumbledore had dabbled in the Dark Arts; he himself had used Dark Magic to vent his hatred.

When one was consumed by rage, such actions hardly seemed out of the ordinary.

But what he couldn’t accept was the implication that what Rita Skeeter had said in the newspaper might be true: that Dumbledore had studied the Dark Arts with the Dark wizard Grindelwald, that he had once sought to overturn the International Statute of Secrecy and establish a system of Wizarding rule over Muggles.

And if so, then Dumbledore’s hatred of the Dark Arts and his commitment to protecting Muggles were all false.

False. All of it was false!

A chill was stealing through Harry’s chest. The image of Dumbledore in his mind, his ideals, and the things he had said to him might not all be true. There might have been falsehoods mixed in. As this possibility occurred to him, Harry realized that he had perhaps never truly understood the headmaster.

Compared to the bewildered Harry, Evan knew more.

This was something Dumbledore truly could not explain to others, and he had resolved to bear the burden alone, saying nothing.

As far as Evan knew, there had been a time when Dumbledore was truly fascinated by the Dark Arts.

He and Grindelwald had become close friends, exploring the mysteries of magic together.

Young Dumbledore had been well aware of Grindelwald’s ambitions and what he would do with the magic they’d developed together, but he had not cared at the time.

Evan wasn’t entirely sure, and he didn’t know if this assessment of Dumbledore was appropriate. But from what was known, the young Dumbledore did not yet possess such a strong sense of justice and responsibility. He had been bitter over being forced to stay home and care for his younger brother and sister. Brilliant as he was, he felt he should not be shackled by family obligations, unwilling to waste his talents. Grindelwald’s appearance had rekindled his hope, and for two months the two equally talented wizards remained inseparable.

Perhaps drawn to each other’s talents, perhaps because they saw themselves in each other, or perhaps for some other reason, the meeting of Dumbledore and Grindelwald, two of the greatest wizards of their age, significantly advanced the development of magic during those two months, influencing the course of the Wizarding world for the century that followed.

If not for an unexpected tragedy, Dumbledore and Grindelwald might have become Dark Lords together, establishing their ideal new order in the world.   

But tragedy did strike. When he accidentally killed his sister Ariana, Dumbledore awoke to the truth.

From then on, the two great wizards faced off, culminating in that legendary duel.

Ultimately, Dumbledore won the duel.

This didn’t necessarily mean he was superior to Grindelwald in magic or power, but in one area, he was indeed stronger. In line with the headmaster’s long-held philosophy, it was love, a quality Dumbledore understood more than any other Dark wizard.

Voldemort had no comprehension of love, Grindelwald sacrificed it for the greater good, while Dumbledore understood it with his heart.

Thus, in that breathtaking duel, recounted by everyone but watched by no one, he ultimately triumphed.

Dumbledore’s enduring legacy lay in the fact that, despite his unforgivable mistakes as a teenager, he ultimately faced his own darkness and became the greatest wizard of all time.

“We don’t know much about Dumbledore’s past, Harry, but I think some things can’t be simply understood just by looking at the surface,” said Evan. “If you ask me, everyone makes mistakes, and Dumbledore was no exception when he was young. The key is the courage to admit your mistakes and what you do afterwards. What Rita Skeeter wrote may have some truth to it, but it’s worth no more than a lie. You know her, her purpose is to attract public interest and sell her books, so the more shocking things are, the better for her. She may even deliberately conceal some important facts or fabricate some ambiguous claims to achieve the effect. Rita Skeeter —”

“Rita Skeeter?! Are you talking about her? Oh, I love her, always read her!” A shrill cackle interrupted Evan’s words. Ron’s Great-Aunt Muriel was standing there, the plumes dancing on her hat, a goblet of champagne in her hand. “She’s written a book about Dumbledore, you know!”

“Hello, Muriel,” said Doge. “Yes, we were just discussing —”

“Really? You there! Give me your chair, I’m a hundred and seven!”

Another redheaded Weasley cousin jumped off his seat, looking alarmed, and Auntie Muriel swung it around with surprising strength and plopped herself down upon it between Doge, Evan, Harry, Hermione, and Elaine.

“Have we met before? The Weasley family, like goblins, you all look the same. Who can tell you apart?” Auntie Muriel scrutinized them for a moment, as if trying to recall them, then gave up and turned to Doge. “Now, what were you saying about Rita Skeeter, Elphias? You know she’s written a biography of Dumbledore? I can’t wait to read it, I must remember to place an order at Flourish and Blotts!”

Doge looked stiff and solemn at this, but Auntie Muriel drained her goblet and clicked her bony fingers at a passing waiter for a replacement.

She took another gulp of champagne, burped loudly, and then said, “There’s no need to look like a stuffed frog! I’m not one of these young people who know nothing! Back in our day, we all knew very well that before he became so respected and respectable and all that tosh, there were some mighty funny rumors about Albus!!”

Translating_Wizard

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