Rowle swallowed.
He lowered his head again, staring at the string of formulas, his finger unconsciously tracing circles on the table.
No one spoke again.
Macnair's name hung there.
It reminded everyone present that failure did not bring forgiveness, but meant being swallowed by those gears and wires.
Their goal now was to understand how electricity was generated, then follow the trail to its sources.
The basement fell silent for a while.
There was only the scratching of quills across paper, along with the occasional rustle of turning pages and sighs.
That silence broke three minutes later.
A young Death Eater at the far end of the long table abruptly stood.
The back of his chair struck the stone wall behind him with a dull thud.
His name was Travers.
He was in his early thirties, with a square jaw, deep-set eyes, and pupils that flickered with the madness of a beast driven into a corner.
He seized the copy of Junior High School Physics before him with both hands.
His knuckles whitened with the force of his grip.
"Enough!!"
Travers's voice exploded through the basement, making the chandelier sway.
"I've had enough of this filthy rubbish!"
He raised the book over his head.
"Pulleys?! Gears?! Voltage?! What do these things have to do with us?!"
Travers swept his gaze over his companions, their heads bowed throughout the room, his chest heaving.
"We are pure-blood wizards! Noble magic passed down for centuries flows through our veins! We follow the greatest Dark wizard in history!"
His voice grew increasingly shrill.
"Now, tell me, what does this great master want us to do?!"
Travers slammed the book onto the table.
The spine broke, and pages scattered.
"Read-Muggle-textbooks!!"
He spat the words out one by one, every syllable dripping venom.
"Just because a