It ought to be a thrilling read. Lucius glances to the two that remain alive, variously paralysed and otherwise rendered immobile, and back to Severus. He searches, semi-consciously, for signs of fatigue and strain; the practices of Legilimency and Occlumency were never, exactly, the most forgiving of magics for anyone. Cool grey eyes flick towards that glimmer of red at Snape's hand.

But Lucius wordlessly Disapparates to go and seek these documents. Taking something of a mallet approach, there is soon the sound of a wooden floor being indelicately broken open one board at a time in swift, almost musical succession, a few thuds and crashes of furniture waved aside, the noise echoing through the building but never escaping the walls. It stops not long after.

About half a minute later, once he has at least opened the thing and had a rifle through to see if the pages truly held anything of worth, Lucius appears once more, carefully sliding the pages back into places. Grainy candid images, screencaps from broadcasted network video posts, transcripts, CiD numbers, addresses.

"They've been rather busy," he says, not quite carelessly setting it down on an available flat surface. There is a steeliness to his expression, a similar edge that's sharpened his tone, settling his wand to point at the nearest still breathing body. "Finished with them yet?"