A slow breath in raises broad shoulders as Lucius contemplates the immediate situation down the length of fifteen inches worth of mahogany. Ask anyone who knows him and they will gladly tell you that no, Lucius is not exactly infamous for his sense of compassion, not even for his fellow magic users, regardless of their breeding. But there are things that can and do offend him. The documents he uncovered beneath the floorboards offend him.

The man writhing at Severus' feet offends him. And so the incantation summons fire; it is not a spoken incantation, and it is not true fire. Flames of deep purple snake out from beneath the terrorist's clothing, smokeless, and instead of burns, it leaves behind bruises and sinks bone deep. A curse that can be flashily frightening and damaging, and thus, useful on the battlefield.

But not useless off of one, in Lucius' opinion.