Chapter Text
Sirius had been disheartened to find that it was still the custom to linger for social mingling after the Wizengamot had met. And now, with a fiance to show off, and alliances to establish, he had to play the game.
He plastered a bland smile on his face, exchanged glances with Augusta Longbottom, and guided Luka firmly into the fray.
“And what is your opinion, Ms Morgan, on these allegations about the Dark Lord that have been filling the Prophet these past months?” That was Gerald Greengrass, his eyes gleaming at the thought of catching out this colonial upstart with a controversial topic.
“Oh, I think it’s a terrible shame that such a powerful wizard ended up being just another con-man.”
Everyone blinked at her.
“A- a con-man, did you say?” Nott said faintly.
“Yes,” she said, and butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “I mean, quite apart from finding out he wasn’t even a pure-blood himself, wasn’t it obvious that he never really gave a damn about pure-blood families?”
More staring, more blinking. Amos Diggory drifted closer, with Tiberius Ogden close behind.
“Have you looked at the current Hogwarts class sizes? Surely I can’t be the only one to have noticed. Take Harry’s year,” and she began to count on her fingers, “One Malfoy, one Potter, one Longbottom, one Nott, one Bones, one Zabini, one Lovegood, and those are just the ones I know of. And for the previous generation, only one Black remaining,” she indicated Sirius, “The Prewetts and the Meadows families are gone. There’ll be no more Lestranges, no more Crouches, Moodys or Dumbledores unless you go back a few generations to cadet branches.”
There was a short silence.
“At this point,” she said quietly, “if you aren’t prepared to marry a Weasley, you’ll be importing pure-blood brides and grooms for your children from other countries. And it’s just so tragic that he managed to get you all to kill one anothers’ siblings and children in his name, all for his benefit.”
“And how, exactly, would you claim the Dark Lord benefited from that?” Malfoy bit out.
Luka looked him right in the eye. “If you truly believe in pureblood superiority, Lucius Malfoy,” she said, “then tell me, where, in your opinion, would the next generation’s outstandingly powerful wizard or witch come from?”
Malfoy drew back.
“From the next generation of purebloods, right? Or at the very least, half-bloods with pure blood parentage. Parentage like his. And apparently, one did. And what did Tom Riddle do? Did he welcome the birth of a magically powerful child into your society? Did he rejoice at the potential in that child? No. He attacked that child when he was a baby. A baby,” she said, voice shaking. “What sort of leader is that? What sort of society, exactly, was that man going to lead? And who would follow someone capable of that? Is that what you all wanted?” Luka couldn’t hold back the curl of a lip as she surveyed the group.
“Was that the action of an all-powerful Lord of Magic who feared nothing? I don’t see how anyone can see his actions that night as anything other than the most disgusting act of cowardice the wizarding world has ever seen. But sure, he’s your Dark Lord, all-powerful and fearless. Sure he is.”
She was breathing heavily when she finished, glaring at them all. “I’ll never understand it,” she said, much more quietly. “The other atrocities were bad enough, but that... How could you still follow a man who would do that? Even Grindelwald didn’t sink that low. I’m a cursebreaker, I’ve studied these things. I know it can feel as though you’re in so deep you can’t leave. But he’s gone, and he’s been gone for ten years. But you were all still standing in the same place, primed to lick his boots should he ever return. Did you never once ask yourself – what did we even do? What was it all for? Who gained anything from all that wasteful war?”
Most of them were staring at their feet now, visibly ashamed. One or two were glaring back at Luka. Narcissa, he was interested to see, had averted her face and turned to avoid Sirius’ gaze.
“Sirius,” Luka said into the silence. “Would you take me home, please? I’m afraid the company here has churned my stomach.”
“With pleasure, my darling,” he said, so proud of her he was dizzy with it. “Let’s go.” And he wrapped an arm around her waist and they were gone.