Every item bore a label listing its name, origin, danger level, and handling recommendation.
Regulus's gaze swept across the nearest shelf.
[Label]: Weeping Virgin Statue
[Origin]: An abandoned church in Paris, France. Suspected dark wizard experimentation on Muggles.
[Danger Level]: Three stars. Prolonged contact induces uncontrollable sorrow, eventually leading to mental collapse.
[Handling]: Seal in a lead-lined runic container. Avoid direct eye contact.
[Label]: Dagger of Vengeance
[Origin]: An ancestral relic from a Highland family in Scotland.
[Danger Level]: Two stars. The wielder suffers all the pain the victim has ever endured.
[Handling]: Seal in a long-horn ivory sheath. Must not be unsheathed.
[Label]: Memory Weaver
[Origin]: Unknown. Suspected ancient alchemical creation.
[Danger Level]: Four stars. Capable of weaving false memories and implanting them into living minds.
[Handling]: For theoretical research only. Practical use strictly prohibited.
The elder Burke stopped at a display table in the center of the warehouse. A sheet of black velvet covered whatever rested atop it.
"I'll show you three items today." He bared yellowed teeth in something like a grin. "All recently acquired. All currently being sought by the Ministry of Magic."
He lifted the velvet.
Three objects lay on the table.
The first was a palm-sized bronze box, its surface carved with twisted runes. A dark red glow seeped faintly from the seams.
There was no keyhole. No visible joints. Yet Regulus could sense something moving inside. Subtle, but undeniably real.
"Cursed Casket." The elder Burke's finger hovered above it without touching.
"Within it lies a Blood Curse dating back to the fourteenth century. Two Pure-blood families locked in a vendetta. One crafted this to sever the other's bloodline."
"Both families eventually destroyed each other. The method of opening the casket has been lost, but the curse remains active. Anyone who attempts to open it will see their direct descendants die one by one within three generations."
He glanced at Regulus.
"One of the Ministry's criteria for a large-scale cursed artifact is an impact exceeding ten individuals or lasting over a century. This casket satisfies both."
Regulus did not look at him. His attention was fixed on the runes. A variant of Ancient Runes. He recognized fragments.
The curse likely used the caster's life and soul as fuel, tethering itself to the target family's blood. As long as that bloodline endured, the curse persisted.
To break it, one would need the original caster's remains destroyed, a stronger curse layered atop it, or the cursed bloodline extinguished entirely.
"Is there a buyer?" Regulus asked evenly, as if discussing ordinary merchandise.
"Three interested parties," the elder Burke replied.
"One wishes to use it against a rival. One seeks to study ancient cursecraft. One simply collects. All are waiting to see how the Ministry's review unfolds."
He let the velvet fall partially back over the box, then revealed the second item.
A crystal skull, roughly life-sized. Two rubies were set into its eye sockets, light shifting within them.
Fine cracks covered its surface, and faint blue luminescence seeped from the fractures.
"Soul Container." The elder Burke smiled faintly.
"Not a top-tier specimen but a simplified model. It can store a fragment of a dying person's soul, preserving consciousness and allowing communication with the living."
"Many flaws. Over time the fragment dissipates. The container itself is fragile. And the soul within suffers. It is constantly aware of its slow dissolution."
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, as if savoring the air. His expression held something close to nostalgia.
Regulus extended his perception. A faint soul fluctuation emanated from the skull. Chaotic, Fragmented, Laced with despairing echoes.
There was awareness inside, barely held together, always on the verge of collapse.
"The origin?" Regulus asked.
"An Egyptian tomb. More precisely, a pyramid. Over a thousand years old."
The elder Burke opened his eyes.
"Grave robbers unearthed it. Passed through three hands before reaching mine. No one knows whose soul it holds. A pharaoh, perhaps. A priest. Or a nameless slave buried alive."
He lowered his voice.
"The Ministry has begun investigating all artifacts involving soul preservation. After last year's Azkaban breakout, they suspect Death Eaters may have used similar methods to survive. If this skull were discovered, it would be enough to seat me before the Wizengamot."
Regulus gave a small nod.
Such items warranted scrutiny. Soul and time magic were domains typically reserved for Unspeakables, rarely permitted to circulate freely.
The elder Burke pulled back the final velvet covering.
The third item was a cane.
A Cane, nearly one and a half meters long. Its shaft was dark and polished. At its top rested a fist-sized black pearl etched with silver patterns that shimmered faintly in the dim light.
It lay there without emitting any detectable magical fluctuation. It could have passed for a fine artisan's work.
"This one has no name," the elder Burke said.
"The seller claimed it was found in the depths of a Nordic ruin. The shaft is dragonheart wood, at least three thousand years old. The black pearl comes from a deep-sea giant octopus, a magical creature that lives over five centuries. The silver patterns were forged from meteoric metal. The method is lost."
He lifted the cane carefully.
"I have detected no active magical function. It does not respond to standard detection charms. Even dark detection spells register it as harmless."
He set it down again.
"However, every wizard who has touched it experiences the same dream within three days."
"No one knows what it is." His voice dropped slightly. Regulus sensed deliberate atmosphere.
"Seven wizards touched it. All of them eventually went mad."
Regulus's tone remained calm. "Symptoms?"
"They begin speaking incoherently upon waking," the elder Burke said.
"As though some absolute despair has been forced into their minds. Those around them think they've lost their sanity. Perhaps they have."
He turned sharply toward Regulus, eyes widening as if to unsettle a child.
"They all died. Each one used their own wand to cast the Killing Curse on themselves."
Silence lingered for several seconds.
"The Killing Curse requires genuine intent to kill," Regulus said at last. "Casting it on oneself implies they believed, at their core, that they needed to die."
The elder Burke looked faintly disappointed by his lack of reaction.
"Or something convinced them death was the only release," he said in a more ordinary tone.
"Other curses might allow for rescue. The Killing Curse leaves no room for that. From one perspective, it is a clean death. At least it spares suffering."
Regulus's eyes rested on the black pearl. The silver lines reflected cold light.
Cognitive alteration? Perceptual contamination? Or direct consciousness implantation?
The concepts brushed against ideas that should not exist within this magical system.
Impossible.
Different frameworks.
Yet how did it function?
He did not have enough knowledge to conclude. So he set the thought aside.
He himself carried something from beyond. His right hand rose unconsciously to his chest, where warmth lingered beneath his robes.
Then another question surfaced.
"You've touched it," Regulus said, studying him. "Yet you seem unaffected."
"I have," the elder Burke admitted. "I dreamed twice. I did not lose my mind."
"Why?"
"Perhaps I am old and stubborn. New ideas have difficulty entering," he replied with a thin smile.
"Or perhaps I have seen too much madness already. This one fails to impress."
He shrugged lightly.
"But more likely, I did not attempt to understand it.
Every wizard who went mad tried desperately to analyze it. Trying to decode the mechanism, find the pattern, break free"
I didn't. I recorded what happened, then decided to sell."
He spread his hands.
"There are things safer not understood."
He covered the three items once more with velvet.
"All three are troublesome," the elder Burke said, turning back to Regulus.
"The Cursed Casket involves a Blood Curse. The skull involves soul magic. The cane involves the unknown. If the Ministry discovers any of them, the Burkes will face considerable trouble."
"You want to move them," Regulus stated.
"We want secure storage. Or the right buyer." The elder Burke's gaze sharpened.
"The Black family has history and roots. The depth to absorb such things. More importantly, Orion sits on the Wizengamot. He can provide political buffer."
Regulus was silent for a few seconds.
"I am only here to observe."
"Of course." The elder Burke inclined his head. "The decision rests with your father. But you have seen them and you understand both their value and their risk."
"Return to Orion and inform him. The Burkes are willing to exchange these three items for the House of Black's decisive support in the Wizengamot over the next three years."