Dumbledore recalled the conversation he had with Green in his office during the previous summer holidays.
"Professor Dumbledore, my master hopes you will transfer the Philosopher's Stone to Lynn after the events of this year, as a gift from an elder," Green had calmly stated.
Dumbledore was a bit surprised and asked, "Is this what Nicolas meant? But didn't he agree to destroy the Philosopher's Stone before?"
Green nodded slightly and replied, "But Master met Lynn—you know, the first-year Slytherin student, my pupil. He believes the Philosopher's Stone itself is not sinful and hopes to witness the growth of this boy, Lynn."
"Moreover, Master thinks Lynn needs the Philosopher's Stone as a beacon on his alchemical path."
...
"I suppose you need it, don't you?"
Dumbledore spoke with a smile as his thoughts wandered.
Lynn remained silent, not expecting his master to decide to give him the Philosopher's Stone.
Yes, as his master said, he did need the Philosopher's Stone.
With sufficient magical power, many things he couldn't previously achieve could now be perfectly solved. Based on his own rate of magical growth, Lynn would have to wait until his fourth year to refine an alchemical circle without using a carving knife, and until his fifth year to condense an alchemical circle in mid-air as Green had done last Halloween.
But with the Philosopher's Stone as an energy source, Lynn could begin learning these advanced alchemical techniques immediately.
At this point, some might wonder: Aren't Lynn's alchemical gloves and his own body incapable of channeling the immense magical power of the Philosopher's Stone? Wouldn't this limit not just spellcasting but also the prolonged and demanding process of alchemy?
The answer was simple—Lynn could control the rate at which he drew magic from the Philosopher's Stone.
In the previous battle, he had reached the limits of his capacity because he dared not underestimate a high-level dark wizard like Voldemort. He had poured everything he had into the fight, desperate for victory.
But that desperate need for power only applied to combat.
For daily alchemical practices, Lynn could draw just the necessary amount of magic, which was entirely manageable.
Lynn understood this. He reached out, picked up the Philosopher's Stone, and stored it away again.
"But, Professor, there's still something I don't understand," Lynn said, looking directly at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore gestured for him to continue. "Speak your mind."
"I think, Professor, you must be aware of my background. My father was a Death Eater. Professor, how can you be so sure that someone like me, the son of a Death Eater, is worthy of something as precious as the Philosopher's Stone? What if this is all just a scheme orchestrated by Voldemort and me?"
Hearing Lynn's words, Dumbledore laughed heartily, his chuckles echoing in the office.
He laughed so much that tears nearly came to his eyes. After a moment, he stopped and looked at Lynn seriously.
"Lynn, I have never doubted you. And do you know why? Because... your father was never a Death Eater!"
Lynn was stunned. His father wasn't a Death Eater?
How could that be possible?
Lynn had always believed his father's status as a Death Eater was undeniable. Even his mother had confirmed it. The Prophet had reported extensively on Death Eater activity a decade ago, leaving little room for doubt.
But now, Dumbledore claimed otherwise, leaving Lynn deeply puzzled.
"Perhaps you've wondered who cast the Fidelius Charm on Rolle Manor and who the Secret Keeper was," Dumbledore said.
Lynn nodded internally. He wasn't surprised that Dumbledore knew about his family's circumstances, and the question was something he had indeed pondered.
"In fact, Lynn, I am the Secret Keeper," Dumbledore revealed calmly.
The revelation sent shockwaves through Lynn's mind.
Dumbledore's sincere gaze met his. "The reason I say your father wasn't a Death Eater is that he never truly served Voldemort. He was a member of a group I founded to fight Voldemort—the Order of the Phoenix."
At those words, a crazy possibility flashed through Lynn's mind, one he couldn't believe.
But Dumbledore seemed to read his thoughts and nodded. "Yes, your father, Hendry Rolle, was an undercover agent recruited by the Order of the Phoenix to infiltrate the Death Eaters. During those dark days, your father provided us with critical intelligence, thwarting many of Voldemort's plans and saving countless lives."
So, Hendry Rolle had been part of the Order of the Phoenix!
As Lynn reflected on the past, many things began to make sense.
If his father had been a member of the Order, it explained why Molly Weasley, despite her hatred of Death Eaters, had always been so kind to him, the supposed son of one.
After all, Molly had even been cold toward Fleur Delacour, her own future daughter-in-law, simply because of her part-Veela heritage.
But if Hendry Rolle had been a comrade of the Weasleys in the Order, Molly's warmth toward Lynn—even sewing him a sweater for Christmas—was perfectly understandable.
"Did my father's identity as a spy lead to his death?" Lynn asked.
Dumbledore shook his head. "I can't be sure. But before Voldemort killed him, we received this letter."
Dumbledore handed Lynn a piece of old, yellowed parchment.
Lynn opened it and found only one line written on it:
"Regulus Black has found me. He wants to take me to a place where a weapon capable of defeating Voldemort is hidden."
Reading the words, Lynn understood.
It seemed his father and Regulus Black had gone to the cave where Voldemort hid his Horcrux.
Regulus had died there, and his father had escaped with the Horcrux. But Voldemort must have discovered his father's betrayal, leading to his death.
Yet one question remained: Where was the Horcrux they had taken? Was it still hidden in the Black family's ancestral home? Lynn was deeply confused.
"Your father, Hendry, was never a sinner but a great hero—a hero who fought in the shadows. And you, Lynn, as his only son, are no descendant of a Death Eater. You are the heir of a hero. Remember that," Dumbledore said firmly.
If Voldemort's Death Eater army was the darkness of the wizarding world, then Hendry Rolle was the crack in that darkness.
And as the saying goes, it is through the cracks that light shines through.
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