Lucius, who had stood with his back flat against the stone wall, shuddered, "Yes, my Lord," he murmured, ducking his head in deference. His wife was being somewhat more useful, at least, frantically searching through the Lestrange’s hoard of gold and treasure. Lucius and his wife were lucky that he had already committed to sparing them for their failure to prevent their son from acquiring the Lestrange vault - he had already had his pound of flesh for the diary after all. And they were useful - the Malfoy’s. Useful for their political sway and the gold in their own vaults. They were lucky that this misstep had come to light now, and not when he had no further use for them.