Inspired by Teufel1987's Rise of the Wizards & sapphyreangel's To Be Queen
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
"Why does everyone assume I like Muggles?"
"...What?" Dead silence rang, still as could be but the buzzing of minds was not as quiet to him - they were raging, and inferno licking its flames and bursting like rivers. They were undying, with ash aflight and embers bright.
"Why. Does. Everyone. Assume. I. Care. About. Muggles." He punctuated each word slowly, relaxing as he leaned back with legs crossed and fingers matching. His grin grew as did the amusement in his eyes.
Madness, they thought. He fought a war against the man who promoted the legacy of the Pure. What was he speaking about? Whispers soon washed over and he waited for them to grow quiet once more before turning to him.
He had closed his eyes and pretended to rest; this was, after all, a rather tiresome game. But of course, most games were rather "un-fun" when they began. He sighed, raking a hand through his raven locks, ignoring the flush across the faces of members of both sexes as well as the young and old alike.
His toothy grin made some fan themselves. "Well?" he asked, patiently waiting for further words. None met his. After a minute, he stood, arms spread wide and fingers free to his left and right.
"I never said I liked Muggles, you know? It was all... assumed. And I'm sure you all know there is a stigma with assumptions." He noted some flushes were indignant and before they could manage a word, he cut through them. "It was rather... silly for you all to believe something like that. Foolish, you know? Perhaps we could call it... in today's standards, Gryffindor-esque."
The twinkle in his eyes amused several of the others but some were most definitely not pleased. He did not break his pace. "I was not against Lord Voldemort because he hated Muggles, you know." He held himself back so that a split-second delay in speech was the only noticeable shift in his demeanor. "I was against him because he tried to kill me." His gaze was sharp, daring; a bold play on his part - would anyone be willing to challenge him on that?
"That's absurd!" Of course there was. He gestured for the man to speak out, to clarify what was odd. The House of Macmillan stood and said, "You allied yourself with dozens of Muggles and Muggleborns! How could you say this?"
He laughed. "Again? Again you presume to tell me you know what I think and what I do not. I said I do not care about Muggles; not that I hate nor love them. Simply put - they are useful, in certain situations. In others, they are not." He did not mention that it was the same for wizards. "All I proclaimed was that I was not against Heir Gaunt for his stance against Muggles - because that much is true. I was not. Why should I have been? Tell me; tell me exactly why I would be against his agenda?"
And the House of Macmillan gaped, his mouth still and throat dry. So he continued. "It is not hard to assume I would be 'pro-Muggle,' given my circumstances. But ask yourselves this; why would I not be against Voldemort simply because he was out to gut me? To demean me - his better, his superior? He was envious of the Black in my veins and desired it for himself. He was dead-set on killing me, and so, I had three options: to ignore him and flee in the face of neutrality, to join him, or to stand against him." If Voldemort was not so vehemently insane and persistent in hunting him down, he would have picked the first option. But no one had to know that.
"So I chose what I believed to be the best decision - to stand against him. And now, you see the fruits of my labor. It is I who stands before you today, Houses and Heirs!"
He let out a breath and raked his thin fingers through his hair to calm himself, before announcing to them, "I tire today, friends. Is this what our Ruling Realm has been reduced to? A mess of squabbles and power-plays, gossip-mongering and greedily hoarding hatred? The seeds of enmity are festering thorn-brushes between us." His sadness reached out and touched all the others; and they could feel it, the genuine sorrow and mourning mood of his heart.
The look in his eyes would not be forgotten as spoke again. "What will it take for us to grow?" A quick pause. "Look at us. Look," he emphasized the term as he turned in each direction. "Do you see this? We have been fighting this question for ages; it is, quite literally, an age-old question. Now, why is that?
"What brings us to go against the Mundanes and their magical children? Tell me - you all claim that Salazar's vendetta and creed was clear, but is it? It has been well over a millennia since he has departed and few records survived from then to now. Not only that, why do you all take it upon yourselves to tackle a people outside most of our concerns? Why do we then persecute their children as we have been treated in the past?"
Anger burned in his glare, madness at bay. "It is shameful. Disgusting, even." He spat, drawing sharp breaths at his actions. "Regardless of whether children are born of Muggles, are they not magical? Even this you cannot deny." And no one did. "So we agree, then; that they are magical. So why is it that we loathe them?
"Their disrespect for a culture they had no knowledge of as they grew? Their general 'lack' of magical talents? Their lack of wealth in our currency? That is absurd." His voice was barely above a growl but to the ears of the Realm, it was a snarl of absolute fury.
"How can we judge them, when they are as good as newborns-barely old enough to not be called one! How can we, their own kin, call them filth, when it is we who reject them from our clutches and give them no hope? Tell me." His pause was vicious in its silence, his breath heaving with horror and hope. A genuine tear slid from his face.
"Give me a reason. Just, one. Even one," he paused, "to note that I am wrong. Because if you do not," people flinched, "you will have lost my attention."