Lucius picked up one of the matches, studying it. He had seen them before, transfigured them to needles or some other activity. If he could retrieve the memory enough, he might even have remembered someone lighting them in class.
But that was a lesson long past. They were a tool like a potion rack, or a star chart, but infinitely less useful, infinitely less magical, that meant. Which in the moment, perhaps might be more useful.
Lucius had learned to care for himself--largely through direction of the suddenly absent help, but also quite sufficiently through magic. This sort of non-magical instruction, had simply never come up. Abraxas Malfoy had emphasized it no more than the boy's pureblooded tutors. Even his more muggle-sympathetic supervisors were not the sort to encourage him to start fires.
He had actually hoped that one of his less illustrious housemates might come forward. Instead, the concentrating grey eyes moved briefly from the fireplace, to the girl beside him. Both could start a fire easily enough, but neither was truly free to do so.
"Well... I think..." He didn't have the slightest. "I think there's a piece missing." This little stick didn't look like it held fire--and he had already tried--unsuccessfully--using it as a tiny wand.