Faced with Tver's question, no matter what thoughts they had been harboring, the pure-blood wizards present could not help lowering their heads and thinking it through.
The only reason the idea of following the Dark Lord had suddenly resurfaced in their minds was because of the prestige he had left behind in the last war, or rather, fear.
But now, even though the message passed down from the Dark Lord said he would overlook their past betrayal, this was still the Dark Lord. No one dared say for certain that he would not take revenge on them.
And if they went back to following him, they would still be nothing more than pieces on his board, to be moved about as he pleased.
Now, though, things were different. Tver had always controlled their business, yes, but he rarely ever ordered them around. It was fundamentally a relationship of mutual benefit.
They no longer had to live the way they used to, despised by everyone. At the very least, when they looked down at others with pride, no one would curse them as filthy lackeys anymore...
Seeing that these fools had finally thought of something so obvious, Tver let out a weary sigh inwardly.
The contrast was this clear, and he had still had to come here personally to spell it out for them...
On the surface, however, he maintained the same oppressive pressure.
"Look at yourselves. Look at how spineless you are. Do you know why I so rarely mention my pure-blood status?"
Tver shot several wizards who looked ready to argue a glare and shut them back down.
"Because I'm ashamed to be associated with you!"
He circled the long table, locking eyes sharply with every pure-blood wizard he passed.
"You boast arrogantly that you are pure-blood wizards, yet let a half-blood wizard use you like dogs!"
"Your family histories go back a thousand years, and now all you can do in the wizarding world is skulk around doing shady little deals!"
"You could be living openly and proudly in the wizarding world, but instead you keep thinking about crooked, underhanded paths!"
Young Avery froze for a moment and lifted his head in surprise.
"Our business is aboveboard...?"
He had scarcely spoken before someone beside him forced his head back down again.
Ignoring him, Tver returned to the head of the table and slowly looked over the now-silent pure-bloods one by one.
He knew that next, someone unwilling to accept this would definitely step forward...
And sure enough, after a brief silence, Alecto Carrow, the sister of the Carrow siblings, was the first to lose patience.
"The Dark Lord is too powerful. If we resist him, we won't stand a chance against him at all!"
"Don't say that. Dumbledore would resist the Dark Lord too," said her brother, Amycus Carrow, in a tone of false sincerity.
"Then where was he during the last war?"
Alecto gave a cold laugh, and even the way she looked at Tver held open defiance.
"I hear that the Dark Lord, hiding in the shadows now, has our esteemed Professor Fawley... forgive me for speaking so bluntly... running himself ragged."
"That's a bit much, Alecto. He is the Dark Lord, after all." A faint smile curled at Amycus's mouth, with no sign of where any supposed anger might be.
"Professor Fawley is still young. With his talent, perhaps in a few decades he'll surpass the Dark Lord."
Alecto was amused by her brother's mockery. Looking at the silent Tver and the wavering pure-bloods around the room, she felt even more pleased with herself.
"In a few decades, there won't be enough of us left to scrape off the floor, Amycus!"
"If we resist the Dark Lord, it's not even certain we'll survive the war to come. No, we definitely won't survive!"
"But if we submit to the Dark Lord, maybe we won't make as much money immediately, but what about the future? Once the Dark Lord succeeds, the whole world will be there for us to take as we please. Why would we need to care about these little businesses then?"
"Crucio!"
Tver flicked his wand sharply at Alecto, startling everyone in the room.
"Ah!" Alecto immediately wrapped her arms around herself, squeezed her eyes shut in terror, and screamed.
A long moment passed before she slowly opened her eyes again in confusion.
Huh? No pain?
She had been punished by the Dark Lord before. She knew exactly what the Cruciatus Curse felt like. But now, even if it had been cast by a student, there should have been some reaction. Yet she had felt absolutely nothing.
"Sorry. I'm not Voldemort. I don't enjoy punishing people with magic."
Under the room's confused and shocked stares, Tver gave a faint laugh and lowered his wand.
"I won't deny that Voldemort's way is more profitable. You could even say there's no business more profitable than that."
"But I do need to remind you that both I and my teacher, Grindelwald, will do everything in our power to stop Voldemort..."
"Grindelwald?!"
Before Tver could finish, their cries of alarm cut him off.
"Yes. Grindelwald," Tver said lightly.
"Five years ago, we already foresaw Voldemort's return, and from that moment on, we have been working to destroy him."
"And with Dumbledore as well. Ladies and gentlemen, Alecto claims that Voldemort has me running myself ragged..."
At that phrasing, even Tver could not help laughing.
"But the one who's been hiding and skulking all this time, isn't that Voldemort?"
"Why doesn't he dare contact you personally? Why doesn't he dare loudly announce his return to the wizarding world?"
"Alecto, Amycus, can either of you answer that for me?"
Alecto and Amycus exchanged an awkward glance.
"Well... perhaps the Dark Lord still has some plan he needs to..."
"Was Voldemort skulking around like this during the last war?" Tver cut off her weak excuse without the slightest courtesy.
"Ladies and gentlemen, Voldemort has long since lost the force he once had. He is nothing more than a rat hiding in the dark, carrying a body full of disease and trying to infect the entire wizarding world with it!"
"Do you really want to become part of that infection and rot away with Voldemort down in the sewer?!"
Tver stopped holding back and released his magic in full, letting immense pressure bear down on every person in the room.
A suffocating weight filled the house at once. Bloodshot-eyed, they gasped helplessly for breath, yet it felt as if they were trapped in a plunging abyssal sea. Breathing became harder and harder, and the dark figure before them seemed to grow deeper and more terrifying with every passing second.
Crack.
The long table, taking the brunt of the pressure, finally gave way and split apart with a crash.
This is the fate of the defeated. Tver looked down coldly at the pure-bloods, their faces flushed red from the strain.
"I am merciful enough to allow you your own choice. Maintain the current arrangement, or go find that sneaking, cringing old master of yours, and then..."
"Die!"