For her own peace of mind (the jar had broken, after all), Narcissa is determined to look for herself; it wouldn't be the first time Lucius downplayed something to her, after all, just the first time she'd been the one who inflicted it on him in the first place. (Their marital tug of war, mercifully, is not that way inclined.) Her fingers follow his, pressing and testing with brisk efficiency, and when she's satisfied she-

-laughs, quietly, as her hand comes away with a faint glow. It stains, she'd forgotten.

"Oh, dear."