In the Room of Requirement, magical wall lamps hung in midair, burning quietly.
At the center of the wooden table, the pages of the Book of Ten Thousand Spirits Calculation rapidly yellowed and darkened. Black ink churned across the parchment.
Seconds later, a line of unusually forceful cursive appeared on the page:
"Great Master, have you finally decided to destroy this world?"
Gavin froze, his brow furrowing as he stared at the book in confusion.
The Calculation Book noticed nothing amiss. Black ink raced across its pages, every word brimming with an almost pathological fervor:
"I knew it, I knew it! This world is still too filthy!"
"You've finally seen the light!"
"The clamor of Muggles, the mingling of Mudbloods, and the ridiculous order imposed by those mediocrities at the Ministry of Magic—it should all have been purged long ago!"
"Once you unleash this divine punishment forged from a blazing sun, all falsehood, cowardice, and rules will be reduced to ashes in the purest sea of fire..."
More and more ink poured forth, filling two entire pages with dense, sprawling prose. It even borrowed the grand parallel phrasing medieval wizards had used to call for purges of heretics.
Gavin did not interrupt. He did not even change the way he looked at it.
He simply watched those lines of Dark Lord-style ravings, a faint, unreadable smile on his lips.
The room was so quiet a pin could have been heard dropping. Only the magical lamp wicks gave an occasional soft crackle.
"...Together, let us—"
After a while, the ink on the page finally seemed to sense something.
The frenzied script suddenly shrank back.
Against a blank page, a small, tentative line appeared:
"...Great Master, why aren't you saying anything?"
Gavin let his smile fade and regarded it with faint amusement.