Lucius Malfoy despised libraries and he despised the tedious nature of research. It was an unfortunate matter for him that his Master would trust this particular research to no one but him. The hatred aside, he desperately wished he had access to his considerable library. His was a collection of arcane books to rival any in Britain, with exception of the library belonging to the Traitor Snape. Unfortunately, Malfoy Manor had been seized and although the house and its content had not been touched by the Ministry, he had no access to it. He was stuck with his Master's mediocre excuse for a library.

Deep within the labyrinth that made up the Dark Lord's sanctuary, the elder Malfoy paced in front of a long table covered with books, parchment, quills, and ink bottles. Torches, candlelight, and the flames from a large, granite fireplace lit the library and his workplace.

Malfoy's Death Eater robes hung over a wooden chair. He wore dark blue, tailored trousers, black dragon-hide boots, and a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His long, blonde hair was beginning to escape from its dark leather tie at the nape of his neck.

A small book in one hand, he paced up and down the length of the library, his boots cutting a staccato rhythm on the stone tiled floor. In sudden fury, he threw the small, old book across the room. With a shout he vented more of his anger by scattering the notes he'd made, and open books upon the work table. His rage ended as he slapped his palms with a crack upon the table and leaned over it, breathing heavily.

"Luciusss."

The wizard spun at the sound of his Master's voice and dropped on bended knee to the floor. His lowered his head until his forehead touched the cold floor as well and he remained in place until the Dark Lord was standing over him. He stretched out his hand, took a portion of the dirty edge of the black robe in his hand and pressed his lips to it.

"My Lord," he began.

"I grow tired of waiting, my ssservant." Voldemort curled his unnaturally long, and thin, pale fingers into Lucius hair until he was lifting the man to his feet by his blonde locks.

Now on his feet, his grey-blue eyes looked steadily into the terrifying, red-eyed gaze of his Master. He did his best to mask his fear. In that moment he felt the Dark Lord's mind pierce his like a molten sword. He could not stop the scream that tore through his throat as his mind was assaulted.

Pain ceased abruptly as Lucius dropped like a marionette with its strings cut to the floor. He kept his head bowed and tried to stop the shaking of his body.

"Familia Vestigium," hissed Voldemort. "Why have you disssmissed this ssspell?"

"My Lord, the problem with the Familia Vestigium is that it is affected by Unplottable and Fidelius spells, and many security wards."

"I do not care, Lucius. You have Ssseverusss blood, and your ssson'sss. Make the ssspell work." Voldemort turned to leave the library. Lucius did not move a muscle. As he expected, the Cruciatus Curse enveloped his body. Five minutes of nerve tearing fiery pain ripped through him. He bit his tongue to keep from screaming.

Severus Snape's blood ran through the veins of Voldemort tainted only by the blood of Nagini that continued to sustain him. Lucius held up the phial of nearly black blood his Master had given him and removed the wax seal. He dipped the tip of his wand into the thick liquid and whispered a spell that drew all the blood into the wood of the wand.

Even before he began the Familia Vestigium, he could feel the dark magic of Voldemort's blood changing the power of his wand in his hand. The feeling sent a ribbon of disgust through his veins that he forced himself to ignore.

Standing in the center of the Death Eaters meeting chamber, Lucius began the complicated chant of the spell that would allow him to possibly track his old friend, the traitor, Severus Snape. If he were within any wards, such as that surrounded Hogwarts, or anywhere else a Fidelius or Unplottable charm were used, the spell he cast would be useless.

"Familius Vestigia!" he shouted the final words of the spell. A lurid ribbon, deep crimson in colour, flowed from his wand. Lucius kept his arms outstretched as he began to circle slowly in place. His sight of the chamber he was in was soon overlaid by a dizzying array of different locations around the world. The images swam over his grey-blue eyes like cataracts. So many images, but nothing that showed him where he might find Snape.

He suddenly collapsed to his knees, exhausted from the drain upon his magical core. He closed his eyes to the after-images that plagued him, and he shoved his wand away from his hand as it suddenly felt like some obscene violation.

A serpentine voice laconically incanted, "Crucio."

As drained as his magic was, Lucius was viciously drawn down into a black sea of pain until he felt nothing and was aware of nothing.

Voldemort nudged the elder Malfoy with his filthy, pale foot. "You have one lassst chance to find me Harry Potter, Luciusss." With a flourish, he walked away from the unconscious wizard.