Dumbledore's gaze was gentle. He raised his right hand slightly, palm downward, and gave it a small wave, signaling Professor McGonagall to calm down.
"Minerva," he said, "it depends on how you define dark magic.
"In my view, only magic that causes the caster's soul to degenerate and gradually sink into darkness truly counts as dark magic. Spells that are merely highly destructive do not.
"Although the Disintegration Curse is powerful, it does not corrupt the soul. So to me, it is not dark magic."
When he was young, Dumbledore had been nothing like the mild, kindly old wizard he appeared to be now. Brilliant and ambitious, he had once dreamed of using magic to rule the world, so that wizards would no longer need to hide, but instead become the masters of it.
If he had not later awakened and changed his mind, the wizarding world might well already be ruling over the Muggles.
Even now, his views on dark magic were different from those of most witches and wizards.
His past had taught him a hard lesson: only magic that leads a wizard's heart into corruption can be called dark magic. Everything else is just a tool.
Decades had passed, and over that long span of years most wizards had probably forgotten a certain simple truth—Dumbledore, this legendary figure honored as the "White Dark Lord," might have "white" in his title, but in the end… he was still a Dark Lord.
As Dumbledore's longtime friend, Professor McGonagall knew his history inside and out. She knew what he had done and how his mindset had changed.
Thinking of that, she couldn't help letting out a quiet sigh. In the end, she didn't voice any further objections. She only said softly, "Forget it. I'll leave Potter's case to you. You are the headmaster, after all."
Then she turned and left the headmaster's office.
Inside, only two people remained.
One was a legend from decades past; the other, a legend of the present.
The two legends looked at each other. In the end, it was Dumbledore who spoke first.
His gaze was warm, his whole bearing radiating the unique authority of an elder, yet wrapped in a friend-like kindness that made one feel at ease without even realizing it.
He lifted a hand and gestured toward the chair in front of his desk. "Sit down, Harry. We need to have a proper talk about this Disintegration Curse."
Once Harry had taken his seat, a kindly smile appeared on Dumbledore's face. His warm eyes rested on the boy as he spoke slowly:
"You don't need to worry about the Disintegration Curse. After all, it's a spell you created yourself, and you used it only to protect your classmates. I'll handle whatever pressure might come from the Ministry of Magic."
Harry felt a warmth in his chest. He could tell that Dumbledore's concern, like the Sorcerer Supreme's, came from the heart; there was nothing false about it. "Thank you, Professor."
Dumbledore smiled. "I am the headmaster of Hogwarts. Protecting you is my duty. That said, unless it's absolutely necessary, try not to use the Disintegration Curse in front of others. It looks far too similar to the Killing Curse and could easily lead to unnecessary misunderstandings."
"Yes, Professor," Harry answered, nodding obediently.
He thought for a moment. Dumbledore, as the White Dark Lord of this era, had once defeated Grindelwald and was, beyond doubt, a genuine good man.
But even so, clashes of ideology weren't as simple as "good" and "evil." In the future, when Harry moved to reform the wizarding world, there was a real chance that Dumbledore might end up on the opposite side.
And Harry had no desire to fight a powerful and genuinely kind White Dark Lord.
So he chose his words carefully, planning to lay some groundwork ahead of time. "Professor Dumbledore, the reason I created the Disintegration Curse wasn't just to recreate the spell that killed my parents. I also did it to fight the Dimensional Demon Gods."
"Dimensional Demon Gods?" Dumbledore repeated, puzzled.
"You know I have a peculiar wizarding bloodline that lets me use many powerful bloodline spells," Harry said, putting on a slightly troubled expression. "In fact, besides those bloodline spells, my mind has been constantly flooded with information about the Dimensional Demon Gods."
Interest sparked on Dumbledore's face. He had never heard this curious term before, but based on the name alone, Dimensional Demon Gods were unlikely to be anything good.
He gestured for Harry to go on.
Harry's expression grew grim. "Dimensional Demon Gods are beings that transcend dimensions. They don't belong to the three-dimensional space humans are familiar with, and they even surpass the constraints of time. They dwell in mysterious realms of higher dimensions.
"Some Dimensional Demon Gods are indifferent to humanity, and a few are even quite friendly. But there are also some who bear malice toward humans.
"A single malicious Dimensional Demon God would be enough to completely destroy our world. That's why I want to create stronger and stronger magic—to stand against them!"
Hearing this, Dumbledore became fully serious. If any ordinary wizard had told him such a story, he wouldn't have believed a word.
But Harry was different. He was the savior chosen by fate, blessed with a gift that even surpassed Dumbledore's own talent in his youth.
"So that's how it is," Dumbledore said. "Is that why you've been going to the Restricted Section to look up ancient magic?"
Harry wasn't surprised that Dumbledore knew what books he'd been borrowing there. He nodded without hesitation. "Yes. That's the reason."
Dumbledore was quiet for a while, then said, "This is an important matter. If you don't mind, I'd like you to extract some of your memories and put them into the Pensieve."
Harry had no intention of refusing. Under the protection of the Sorcerer Supreme, he had once faced Dormammu, the Hell Lords and other Dimensional Demon Gods.
Those memories would be more than enough to prove he was telling the truth.
He carefully chose a few scenes of the Sorcerer Supreme battling Dimensional Demon Gods—just enough to give Dumbledore a proper "surprise."
With a focused expression, Harry drew his wand and lightly tapped it to his temple.
In an instant, a glowing, dreamlike strand of memory was drawn from his mind and placed into the Pensieve Dumbledore had set out.
Seeing this, Dumbledore smiled at Harry. "Wait here a moment, Mr. Potter. I promise I won't keep you long."
As soon as he finished speaking, he bent down and lowered his head slowly into the Pensieve.
The liquid inside the basin seemed to come alive, churning violently.
Dumbledore's consciousness sank with it, immersing itself in the scenes of the memory Harry had extracted.
When his awareness cleared, he found his whole body wrapped in thick darkness, as though he had been dropped into the chaotic void before the birth of the universe.
Everything around him was deathly still. Not a sound, only endless darkness spreading out in all directions with no visible end.
He had just started to raise his eyes to take in this strange and unsettling space when, all at once, an explosion of dazzling magical light erupted ahead of him.
The radiance was so intense that he instinctively squinted. Only after his eyes adjusted was he able to make out the scene before him.
A kindly-looking bald woman floated suspended in mid-air, encircled by layers upon layers of intricate, arcane magic circles.
Facing her was a twisted visage larger than a mountain range. The features were warped and misplaced, its eyes blazing with unnatural flame, exuding a chilling aura laden with malice from the deepest reaches of the cosmos.
Before Dumbledore could even recover from the shock, the two had already clashed.
Waves of magical power crashed out like a raging sea, one after another.
Every collision of magic came with a deafening roar that sounded capable of ripping space apart.
Suddenly, a beam of magic roared past and struck an old, ruined planet drifting in the void.
In an instant, that planet shattered like fragile glass, breaking into countless fragments that scattered as dust through the universe.
With Dumbledore's education, he knew perfectly well what a planet was. Even though he understood that he wasn't truly standing amidst that battle, the sight still left him shaken to the core. His long-quiet heart pounded in his chest, completely out of control.
By this point, he no longer doubted anything Harry had said about the Dimensional Demon Gods.
But then, a brand-new question rose up within him—one that felt absurd and yet utterly staggering—surging through his thoughts like a tidal wave. In the depths of his mind, he couldn't help murmuring to himself:
"You want me to fight Dimensional Demon Gods? Are you serious?"
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