The collection of dark artifacts is one of his prize possessions, as it was his father's before him. Lucius can name the properties of each one of the items, some with scribbled notes attached to them and some not. If anyone comes looking, they don't need the proof handed to them. Now, Lucius carefully pulls on heavy leather gloves - enchanted, of course, with several wards to keep dark magic off of the wearer.
He holds a small pin up to the light. It's deceptively small - a strange butterfly at the top, made out of something that looks Muggle - but it is very, very dangerous. Lucius smiles at the man next to him with an expression dripping with malicious glee. "Why don't you take a look at this, see if you can't tell me what it does?" Lucius knows what it does. It's killed five Muggles so far. Probably little girls, if the look of the thing is to be believed. It is, Lucius muses, a perfect example of an effective disguise. He could learn a thing or two from this lovely little piece of crystallized violence.
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