Ever since Roger had regained his freedom, Dumbledore had been quietly observing him from the shadows.
In Dumbledore's eyes, Roger was remarkable in nearly every way—talented, principled, compassionate. But there was one pursuit that made even the wise old Headmaster furrow his brow:
Immortality.
If Roger's ambition had simply been eternal youth, Dumbledore might not have minded so much. After all, one of his old friends had long since conquered aging.
But true immortality—that was something else entirely.
It was a path laced with danger and despair, one that only the most daring (and desperate) dared to walk. And as someone who understood the deepest workings of magic, Dumbledore knew just how slim the odds of success really were.
Roger was fine now, full of fire and promise. But when the road ahead grew steep—when he finally grasped just how unreachable that distant goal might be—what then?
Would he remain himself?
Dumbledore didn't want to gamble on that. He couldn't.
So when he handed the Philosopher's Stone to Roger, it wasn't just trust he was offering—it was also a test. A challenge. And, in a subtle way… an assault on Roger's ideals.
But it wasn't Roger's life he was targeting—it was his conviction.
Unlike how he'd acted in the past with others, Dumbledore wasn't about to speak in riddles or play games with a Seer. He chose honesty.
"Roger," he said, "this time, you won't be helping for nothing. When this is all over, I'll introduce you to someone. McGonagall told me about your dreams… and I believe he might be able to help you."
The Philosopher's Stone was both a symbol of belief and a crucible.
Would Roger be able to resist the temptation it represented? To stand at the edge of what so many wizards had dreamed of—immortality—and still walk away?
That was the first test.
Can you hold on to yourself?
The letter Dumbledore handed him wasn't just a note for professors. It was an enchanted artifact that conferred considerable authority—access to Hogwarts' resources and even partial command over the Headmaster's own privileges.
It was, in essence, the power of a temporary co-headmaster.
Roger had always been devoted to magic. He was earnest, sincere, and fair—even with the Slytherins, whom many Gryffindors still eyed with suspicion. He never looked down on anyone because of house or background. He simply helped where he could, because he wanted to.
But now, with power in hand, would he still be the same?
Would that kind heart harden? Would authority corrupt him, even in subtle ways?
Dumbledore had seen it happen too many times: the noble-hearted losing their way, the once-idealistic politicians who bent under the weight of real power, the well-meaning who whispered "for the greater good" before they fell.
This was the second test.
Again—can you hold on?
"If you're willing," Dumbledore continued gently, "I'll recommend you to study under him for a while. If he finds you worthy, I might even suggest he take you on as a student. And if that happens… well, perhaps you might one day learn how to create a Philosopher's Stone of your own."
Roger didn't need to be told who he was.
Dumbledore had noticed, as Voldemort had, that Roger's talent came once in a century. The potential within him was vast, but so too was the damage he could cause if he strayed from the path.
If Roger lost himself in his pursuit, it wouldn't just be a tragedy for him alone—the consequences could engulf wizards and Muggles alike.
Dumbledore couldn't let that possibility unfold unchecked.
So he gave Roger three challenges—three silent weapons.
The Philosopher's Stone itself.The mantle of power and authority.And finally, the true temptation: a path forward, a teacher who might offer the real secret of immortality.
He wouldn't need to punish Roger if he failed—failure would punish Roger on its own. If the boy lost his ideals, his magic would fade, his spirit would wither. And then, he would never be a threat to anyone… not even himself.
But if Roger passed these tests?
Then he might truly walk the impossible path—without losing himself in the process.
Dumbledore didn't want to throw a promising boy into Azkaban for stumbling on a dream. Everyone makes mistakes when they're young. As long as it wasn't a matter of right and wrong on a grand scale, Dumbledore was always willing to forgive.
And if Roger gave up the impossible dream of immortality, choosing instead the slow mastery of stonecraft, elixirs, and time?
That too would be acceptable.
Because the one Dumbledore had in mind wasn't a rumor or a theory. He was real—an alchemist who had lived for over six centuries, now tired, weary of eternity.
If Roger proved himself worthy, that man might pass on his legacy.
And if Roger accepted…
Who knew how long he might live?
Perhaps a thousand years.
Immortality, with odds so slim they bordered on fantasy—less than one in a billion.Eternal life, with a guaranteed success rate—100%.
Which would you choose?
Aside from the slow erosion of willpower… aside from sacrificing a future possibility that might never come again… it was, on the surface, all gain.
This was the unsolvable dilemma.
The third test.The final killing move.
Three temptations.Three questions.Can you resist them all?
"I understand. Nicolas Flamel, the great master of alchemy…" Roger's voice was calm. "I do need to deepen my understanding of alchemy. Thank you, Headmaster."
Agreeing to safeguard the Philosopher's Stone for a time and receiving guidance from Flamel in return—Roger knew very well that these weren't equivalent. But he wasn't someone who shied away from opportunity just because he might owe a favor.
He didn't like being indebted, sure.But when the need was real, Roger would never refuse out of pride.
Debts could be repaid—with interest, if needed.But some doors, once closed, never opened again.
"But as for formally becoming an apprentice… and the Philosopher's Stone? Forget it," Roger said, his tone unwavering. "I have my own path to walk."
It wasn't that he rejected Nicolas Flamel, nor did he look down on the Philosopher's Stone.
But Roger understood one thing with crystal clarity: immortality was a long, treacherous road. Eternal life was only the first step—a foundation, not the destination.
And if, at the very beginning of this journey, he chose a shortcut—a path he hadn't prepared for, didn't fully understand, and wasn't even skilled in—then he would already be betraying his goal.
He didn't need anyone to point it out.
He would know his pursuit was doomed from the start.
If his resolve was that weak…Was he truly worthy of touching the fruits of immortality?
"I see." Dumbledore nodded slowly, his expression unreadable.
To someone who had lived a long life and seen through countless masks, words meant little. Promises even less.
What a person did—how they chose, acted, and persisted when no one was watching—that was what truly mattered.
This moment? It was fleeting. Off-the-cuff. Dumbledore wouldn't take it to heart.
He would watch what Roger chose in the future.
Would he be seduced by the Philosopher's Stone?Corrupted by power, slowly and silently?Would he one day trade his ideals for the comfort of reality?
Would Roger break, like so many others had?
Or… would he shatter all of Dumbledore's carefully laid tests?
If he could truly pass through the three poisons of greed, attachment, and delusion—
Then Dumbledore would no longer interfere.
Because a mind that sharp, that firm, and that fearless deserved to walk the path so many legendary wizards had dreamed of—and failed to tread.
The path to true immortality.
Unaware that Dumbledore's carefully veiled tests had already been laid before him like traps dressed as gifts, Roger left quietly.
He made his way toward Professor McGonagall's office. She had said she'd be free that afternoon.
Roger was curious.
Magic in this world was a resonance of the soul. Spells, potions—they were all rituals, echoes of intention made real. So then…
What, exactly, was alchemy?
His eyes gleamed with anticipation.
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