Deep beneath Malfoy Manor, the lights were dazzling.
Yes, you read that right. Lights. Malfoy Manor had electricity.
The Castle where Voldemort had stayed before was still within Muggle territory.
Malfoy Manor, however, was an entirely magical estate.
To avoid magical interference, a cable resistant to the effects of magic had been run deep beneath the manor.
As it turned out, if these pure-blood families wanted to do something, their family legacies and monopolies on technology allowed them to achieve their goals very quickly.
A silver metal table stood in the middle, with a dismantled Muggle television spread across it.
An intact coil lay exposed, wound with copper wire.
Yet a cauldron sat incongruously beside it.
The cauldron was also covered in runes.
Lucius led the others down, with Old Nott, Rowle, and Travers following behind him.
Travers swore under his breath at the sight.
"Merlin above!"
Lucius immediately turned to look at him.
"Shut up!"
Travers glanced around and, finding no sign of his master, straightened his collar.
He looked at Lucius disdainfully and snorted.
"Has Malfoy Manor been reduced to a Muggle factory?"
Lucius looked at him and gave a sinister chuckle, but showed no intention of retaliating.
Instead, he stepped aside and gestured for them to continue into the underground factory.
At the sight of Lucius's behavior, Old Nott's heart lurched.
He immediately wiped the mocking expression off his face and nudged Travers beside him.
Clap, clap, clap.
Applause came from a corner of the room. Voldemort's signature sinister, hoarse voice rang out.
"Travers, you're quite right. This is a Muggle factory. With your noble pure-blood experience, help me judge whether this little Muggle workshop of mine is up to standard."
Travers went pale. Rowle braced himself against the wall, shaken by how close he had come.