I don't like Charlie. I even hate him. If you don't know my story, which you probably don't because I haven't told anyone, you might be wondering why I don't like most of my cousins' favourite uncle.

My name is Roxanne Weasley, and I think you know my family. After all, we are the largest wizarding family in England, in Britain even. I don't look like the other members of my family and I hate myself for it. I don't have red hair, I have brown hair. Everything about me is brown. My hair, my eyes, my skin. I'm the opposite of Victoire, one of my cousins, one of those who loves Charlie. She has white skin, blue eyes, blond hair. I don't like her very much, she's too capricious and arrogant, but I've always dreamed of looking like her. Physically at least, mentally, no thanks. I mean always, no. I've been dreaming of looking like her since I was eight years old.

Being a Weasley is sometimes, often, complicated. There's always someone in your family who will know every detail of what you've done all day. I can't step outside without my family being mentioned, even though I don't have red hair. My family is huge, and it's often a burden.

I wish I could be forgotten. I really do. I like to be alone, but in a family like mine, it's not really possible. Since I was eight years old, my only wish is to be forgotten. Before, I know I was a happy, lively little girl, like most children. Afterwards... I try to be alone, I watch over my cousins from a distance, I put on my smiling Roxanne mask when I am addressed, especially in front of my parents. They can't know.

Rose often told me that I was too withdrawn, that I didn't take enough advantage of the chance I had to grow up in this family, but that she loved me anyway. The first time she told me this, I spent the night crying in silence. Now... she's rubbing it in, but I don't hurt as much as I used to.

When you're in such a large family, you can't always be with everyone, you often group together by age. Victoire is the oldest, she often stayed away from us, we were babies, she was the big one, everyone understood that very quickly. Dominique and Lucy are the same age as me, but we are not together very often. I prefer to be with James and my brother. And then there are the little ones. I never thought about who preferred to be with whom before I was eight, after that I just kept an eye on things, I made sure that nobody was left out.

I used to like Charlie, all my cousins did, I thought he was cool. He was a bit of a cliché, the single uncle, spoiling his nieces and nephews. We all wanted his attention. And I was happy, because he liked me. Now I know, he liked me too much.

Charlie often took us on holiday to Romania in turn. This time I was with James and Fred, inseparable as always, and there was also Albus. As always, we had fun, we did silly things... But once, the boys went too far, they put themselves in danger in front of the dragons, Charlie punished them. Even Albus, even though he hadn't done anything. I gave him a sympathetic look, but I was too happy that my brother and cousin were finally punished to really care. Besides, I was going to be able to spend some time alone with my uncle who I didn't see very often. Nothing could be better, could it?

I was on the couch, and he sat next to me, his hand caressing my thigh. I was uncomfortable.

"You are the most beautiful Roxane," he said. "Your hair, your eyes, your skin, all your cousins are jealous. "You are the most beautiful Weasley, Roxanne."

He shouldn't say that. Adults never said that, because then there would be jealousy. And then he kissed me on the cheek. It wasn't like when Dad said good night or comforted me. It made me uncomfortable. He was still caressing my thigh, and his hand went higher and higher. There was something weird about it. I tried to leave but his firm grip held me back. I couldn't escape. I was scared, I told him, he told me that it was normal, that I shouldn't be afraid. My parents would be proud of their daughter and I should behave like the future Gryffindor I was going to be.

Then he put his lips on mine. It was disgusting and scary. I tried to leave, to run away, but I couldn't. To this day I wonder why I didn't scream. My brother could have come, and it would have been over. But I didn't scream. No sound could come out of my mouth. I was afraid of Charlie. And to be honest, I'm still scared today. And then he laid me down, hiked up my skirt and pulled down my panties.

I'll spare you the details, because I don't want you to be haunted like I am today. I remember the pain, and the words he said to me, that I was the most beautiful of my cousins, that I was different from them.

And then he got nasty. He told me I shouldn't tell my parents or they would be very angry with me, as would the rest of my family. Then he went upstairs and I remember how scared I was. What if he touched my brother? James and Albus? I don't know how I managed to muster up enough strength to pull up my knickers and pull down my skirt, I wanted to make sure the boys were okay, but before I could take a step my legs gave out on me and I fell to the carpet. I could hear them laughing happily and my tears rolled down my cheeks.

We went home that evening. I don't remember much about the next few days. I was in a half state, not totally there, not totally away. Of course, my family wondered. The first excuses started. I'm just tired. Are you having trouble walking? I sprained my ankle. For months, I avoided Charlie at every family dinner. I got as far away from him as possible, carefully avoiding his gaze. I was lucky for a while, he was busy with his work in Romania and didn't come around as much as he used to, but as soon as he came back, I was in full swing and all my senses were on alert.

My parents noticed, but I just nodded at them, it's all right, don't worry. The closest I came to telling was to Aunt Hermione. We all know she's the most perceptive in the family, and she took me aside one day.

"You know Roxanne, you can tell me anything, even if it's about someone I know or like. You can trust me. If you don't want me to say it, I won't say it. If you want to tell me today, tomorrow or ten years from now, I'll still be here to listen, okay?"

I had given her the fake "everything's fine" smile, but I could see in her eyes that she was worried. But I didn't say anything. I didn't want anyone to find out. Even Hermione. My parents were trying to make me happy again, but inside I was slowly dying.

Then I turned eleven. Hogwarts came along, and I was torn between wanting to be as far away from Charlie as possible, where he couldn't get to me, and wanting to stay. Because if I left, who would look after my cousins? I was still convinced that this could only happen to girls, but I learned later that boys were also subjected to this. But Charlie hadn't touched Fred, James and Albus. So I wasn't too worried about them.

I was a very lonely, withdrawn Gryffindor, but I also got into a lot of fights. Only with boys. As soon as they touched me, got too close, to me or to a classmate who didn't want to be touched, I'd go off at once. I was forgotten, and that suited me. I got good grades, not great grades, but I was fine with that. Nobody knew Roxanne Weasley, and I wasn't going to complain about that.

I had a few friends, but I wasn't so close to them that I would tell them my most intimate secrets. I hardly ever talked to boys because I was scared of them.

I learned the word "rape" when I was eleven years old. I didn't know it before. And I was able to put into words what I had experienced. I always knew it wasn't normal, but nobody told me that this kind of thing could happen. When I was eight years old, I didn't even know how babies were made. I didn't know anything about sexuality, which was pretty normal, but no one had ever said that barbaric word to me.

When I was thirteen, the first trips to Hogsmeade arrived and to reward me for my good school work, Charlie gave me a bag full of galleons in front of my parents, saying that it made him happy. The worst part was when I had to say thank you, but he wasn't doing it out of kindness. He was buying my silence. I might as well tell you that the night I arrived at Hogwarts, I buried that bag under a tree on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, promising myself never to touch that money.

You may wonder why I am telling you this, when I could never tell my parents out loud and the only other person who knows about it is the Sorting Hat when I begged him to send me to Gryffindor or my parents would have doubts.

I've just finished my fifth year, and like every year since Victoire entered Hogwarts, the whole family is gathering at the Burrow to celebrate the end of the year. And my worst fears were justified. Charlie has found a new victim.

Her red hair was not as flamboyant as it used to be, her eyes were empty. She was so good at magic, the most talented in the family even. She had been able to perform wandless, controlled magic since she was four years old and had done her first accidental magic act at seven months old, the baby prodigy. She was undoubtedly the most powerful in the family.

Lily. I hate that I'm a part of this. If I'd told someone, maybe you wouldn't have had to go through this. Maybe you would have. I don't know. But I'm sorry. Ginny told us you were going through a bad time. But she doesn't know anything, like everybody else.

We had a few words together, and I told you I understood. That it happened to me too. You didn't say anything, you just nodded, to tell me that you understood, but I didn't know what you were thinking. Did you think I was guilty because I didn't say anything? Were you sympathetic? I don't know. All I know is that you are broken. Like I was. Like I am.

You close yourself off. Just like me. But in a more violent way, you don't pick up a word, when forced to speak, you never say more than three syllables. I am worried. Maybe even more than your own parents. Maybe not. After all, I know the cause of your behaviour.

Then the summer's over, you've got one more year alone before you go to Hogwarts. I have to go back, but this year, even more than the others, I have no desire to go. Charlie didn't start up with me again, but would he with you?

Weeks go by, and there's not a single one where I don't think of you Lily. I hope you're safe, that you've made it. It was Headmistress McGonagall who shattered my dreams when I was summoned to her office in the middle of History of Magic class. We were all there. All the Weasleys. There was bad news, that was for sure.

It was on that day, Lily, that I learned of your death. You became an obscurus. You were the pride of the family for your power, but you rejected it when you realised that it was that which made Charlie decide to rape you. Because you were the most powerful. You shut yourself off, more than I could have imagined. No one really understood how we could have missed your pain. No one knows the reason for the withdrawal that caused your death. I do, and I'm not paying tribute to you by keeping quiet. But I can't say anything.

Your funeral was the first one I attended. Nobody really paid any attention to me. Everyone had their own grief, why should mine matter more. It was the first time I saw Uncle Harry cry. I felt bad for not saying anything, but it was too much for me. I threw up when I saw Charlie hugging your father and trying to comfort him. It was all his fault. And he dared to cry.

Aunt Hermione saw me and went away from the others to see me. She told me again that I could talk to her. I didn't say anything, but we looked into each other's eyes for a long time. Then I ran away. I'm sorry Lily that I couldn't stay longer, but it's too much for me. I can't see your coffin go down into the ground. I just can't. Aunt Hermione knows. I saw it in her eyes. She knows that I know why you've become an obsucurus. But she didn't force me to talk. I'm grateful to her for that. I don't really know why she didn't, but I thank her.

How would you describe the weeks that followed? The Weasley family is a shadow of its former self. And then we had to go back to Hogwarts. The rest of us have pretty much managed to get back to normal life. Well, as normal as possible. Your brothers don't say anything, they don't laugh, they don't joke anymore. They just sit there, without saying a word to each other.

I don't go to school anymore. I spend my days in the Room of Requirement or in the forbidden forest. They tried to find me but they didn't succeed. They threatened me, saying that if I continued, they would send an owl to my parents. I continued, as you can imagine. Dad told me that your death was no reason to skip school, and Mum told me that I had to pull myself together, I shouldn't shatter my future, I shouldn't feel sorry for myself.

They don't know anything, like everyone else. Adults always think they know everything, they know better than us, what is good for us, what we should do, but it's not true. You can't trust them. They don't understand anything.

I'm tired Lily, tired of living, tired of fighting against them all. No one understands me, but I can't talk. Because the adults are all the same, they wouldn't believe me.

The year is over. I already know that I won't have my exams. I didn't go to school for half the year, but I don't care. I got scolded like a kid, but I'm not a kid anymore, because my childhood was stolen. I'm not going to lie to you, it's been hard to face others. I've lost weight, but they don't seem to notice.

Aunt Hermione looked at me a bit longer than the others, but she didn't say anything. I saw her during the meal, looking at my family members one by one, as if she was looking for someone. I'm not a Gryffindor. The embroidered crest on my school robes doesn't change that. I'm not brave, but today I was brave.

"I have something to tell you." I begin. I see the look on Charlie's face, a glint of panic in his eyes. "I'm not going back to Hogwarts next year."

Immediately, everyone starts talking, not letting me continue. It's always like that in this family.

"I don't fit in. I know for you it's the place that shaped you, but I don't feel comfortable there. I'm going to Salem in the fall. I know I won't get my exams, I'm repeating my sixth year."

The protests start, but I don't care. My mind is made up, I'm not giving up. My eyes meet Aunt Hermione's and she nods, as if to tell me I've made the right choice. Maybe when an ocean separates me from Charlie, I'll finally be able to rebuild myself.

I've made new friends, I'm much closer to them than I was to the ones I had at Hogwarts. They didn't try to find out why I left everything. They accepted me, even though I was terrible, at least at first. I'm still lost, I haven't been able to get close to a man, I still have nightmares about Charlie starting over, but they help me get better. Even my boy friends.

But there are times when I relapse, the anniversary of your death is coming up, and I'm scared, Lily. To take my mind off it, there was a little party, so I went. We're in sixth grade, we're sixteen. And the conversation drifted to sexuality. Many of them were already drunk, but that doesn't excuse it. The others were talking about different sexual orientations.

"Anyway, paedophilia is an attraction like any other, isn't it? It's weird, but you can't stop them."

I was shocked, Lily. More than that. My body started to shake and Olivia caught me before I could collapse. In the distance I could hear Mary yelling at the guy, telling him that he was a total freak, that he needed to learn respect and that a child had no business being with an adult. I shut down again, and I think Olivia knew something was up. But she didn't say anything, because she was afraid, because it's extremely taboo, I don't know.

Paedophilia. This word bothers me. Because it doesn't reflect what I experienced. The word is too soft, as if what happened to me was normal. As if an adult who is attracted to and rapes children is normal. I never spoke to that man again, and I haven't been able to make any new friends since.

The years have passed Lily. I got my NEWTs last year, but I haven't started my higher education. I don't know what I want to do, so I decided to wait. I don't see the Weasleys that much anymore. Three times a year, at most. I know it's hard for them, they don't understand why your death made me feel so bad. We weren't that close. But they don't know. And they don't understand my choices. They don't understand why I went to Salem, and why my only job is as a waitress in a Muggle restaurant. But I like it, being around people who don't know anything about me. They don't understand why I stayed in the United States, in the Muggle world, when I could have come back to England and worked as a waitress on Diagon Alley.

And my life has changed thanks to this restaurant. At the entrance, there is a notice board where everyone is free to put up whatever they want, ads... And one ad saved me. A talk group had just been created. I went there. The first time, I observed people talking to each other, to psychologists, to the whole assembly during a conference. The second time, I didn't speak either. I learned that day that it also happened to boys, and that there were also women who did this. I also learned that there are not only women and men, but also non-binary people. I learned a lot that day. But I couldn't speak.

Don't get me wrong Lily, I'm not even twenty yet, I'm surrounded by lots of strangers, I've never been sociable. Probably because of Charlie.

The third time, it's a person who comes up to me, and for the first time, I talk to someone.

"Is this your first time here?"

"The third. But I've never spoken to anyone."

"Is it safe for you if I tell you my story?"

I looked at her for a moment, not really understanding the meaning of this sentence. She explained to me if she could tell me her story or not, if it wouldn't bring up old traumas, if I wouldn't have an anxiety attack. I had never met anyone who had been like us. She is five years older than me, and her grandfather raped her. From the time she was eleven to sixteen. She told me that it was much more common than we thought, but that it was taboo. Because in most cases it runs in the family.

I often come back here. She introduced me to other people, I was able to talk about what I had experienced. I talked about you too Lily. I said I didn't protect you, that I should have talked about it. My therapist told me it wasn't my fault, that it was Charlie's fault. I still haven't told the Weasleys. I don't know if I'll ever be able to.

Hannah, the woman who first spoke to me, said that the average victim takes sixteen years to talk about it. For me it was twelve, for others it was thirty.

I was able to put into words what we went through, Lily. We were victims of incestuous rape and Charlie is a paedocriminal.

I feel more comfortable with that word. It's not my fault Charlie raped me, it's a crime, it's punishable by law.

Hannah told me that her grandfather was sentenced to six years in prison and that he died there. I don't know if I could ever press charges. But that means I'd have to face the wizarding world, and at the moment I can't.

Months go by, and life goes on. I am still a waitress in the same restaurant, the customers know me well, and I enjoy seeing the regulars. I'm still part of the discussion group, and now I'm one of those who welcomes newcomers. The therapists have chosen to do it this way, so that the newcomers are not frightened in front of the men, as was my case. That doesn't mean that I've been reconstructed, far from it, I still have a session a week with my shrink. And she wants me to go further in therapy. She wants me to confide in someone in my family.

I got angry, I really did. I felt my magic pulsing through my body, but I could hold it back. I didn't go back for a few weeks.

Hannah helped me. And I told her everything. The magic, being a witch, how you died. She was a bit shocked, but she took it pretty well. And she helped me.

I'm twenty-two, and my therapist is right, I need to confide in someone who knows magic, someone in my family.

I flew home. Hannah wanted to come with me, but I refused. I need to do it alone. Flying wasn't really a good idea, it only added to my stress, but it's been so long since I've been in contact with magic. When I arrived at the airport, I transplane directly into the ministry's lobby, I've learned to do this since I was a little girl. I take the lift, still as unpleasant as ever, and stop in front of the department.

"I would like to speak to Hermione Granger-Weasley, please."

"Mrs. Granger receives by appointment only."

"Tell her that her niece needs to speak to her."

The secretary complied grudgingly. I'd forgotten that Aunt Hermione never called herself 'Weasley' in the course of her work. I think she wants to keep her independence.

"Madam Headmistress, your niece is here."

I hear Hermione stammer, then she comes out of her office and sees me. She hesitates before hugging me, then hugs me, telling her that she missed me. She is surprised and moved to see me. It's almost a year since I last set foot in Britain. For my cousins' end of year party. I didn't come for Christmas, there was a meal with the Survivors, and I'd much rather be there with my friends than at the Burrow with my grandmother berating me, my grandfather asking me about muggles, the rest of my family not understanding my choices, and avoiding Charlie.

"I wanted to talk to you, but you seem busy, so I'll come back later."

"Cancel all my appointments for the day, please," she says to her secretary.

She brushes off the lady's questions with a gesture and then grabs my arm.

"Where do you want to go?"

"To a quiet place. Outside, if possible, the weather is nice enough."

Aunt Hermione transplants me to a small beach, I look at the scenery, it's fine, I think I can talk to her here.

"You once told me that if I needed to talk to you, today, tomorrow, or ten years from now, you would be there for me, even if it was about someone you liked, you would listen. It's been over ten years now, but are you still willing to listen to me?"

Her nod is enough for me, her face is serious, and I can see that she is listening carefully. The words get stuck in the back of my throat, and tears well up in my eyes.

"I... Ivebeenraped"

I literally collapse. I fall to my knees, sobbing, hard, the tears won't stop. I don't know if she understood me, it wasn't very clear, but she slowly strokes my hair and whispers comforting words in my ear.

"I believe you Roxanne" "It's not your fault" "I understand your pain" "It's going to be alright my darling"

Everything I've needed to hear for years, and it's a release. I cling to Hermione like a lifeline, as if my life depended on it. We've been like this for a long time, clinging to each other. Her shirt is full of tears and snot, but she doesn't care. All that matters is me. And it feels good. I'm glad I have an aunt like Hermione, because she'll do anything to make us feel good, safe. I gently peel myself away from her, my cheeks are wet, my condition must be pitiful, but it doesn't matter.

I said it.

I struggle to keep going, but I have to. It's hard Lily, and I wish you were here with me. But I'll be strong. Aunt Hermione is patient and understanding. She'll help me, I know it, I feel it. She doesn't talk, gives me time to continue when I'm ready.

"I was eight years old." I begin, hesitantly. "It was Charlie. It was Charlie who raped me when I was eight."

The tears keep flowing and Aunt Hermione keeps stroking my hair. It feels good, it comforts me. She doesn't seem surprised. I ask her why, and she says she suspected it.

"I could see that something was wrong, Roxanne. You were withdrawn, your parents noticed, as did the rest of the family, but they didn't go any further than the explanations you gave. George and Angelina were very worried, they still are in a way, they miss you. The problem with the Weasleys is that they always have to get everyone together. Molly can't stand it when all her children aren't there. It was like that before, but it got worse when Fred died. Anyway, I digress. I went to see you, but I knew it was too soon for you. So I looked into who might have done this to you. Charlie seemed the most obvious, he was the only one who didn't have his own family, even if that doesn't mean anything. I had no proof, I could never tell. And then there was Lily. My vigilance redoubled, but I couldn't prevent her death."

Aunt Hermione has tears in her eyes at the mention of her goddaughter, but she holds them back. She wants to be strong in front of me, I understand. I broke down just a few minutes ago, she doesn't want to do the same. But there are a few things I don't understand.

"Aunt Hermione, why did you... I mean, how could you imagine that I was raped. Often, in these cases, we don't even believe the victim, so to suspect it without proof... The Survivors, that's my talk group, told me that most people think it only happens to other people, that there are many more victims than we thought."

"Your group is right, Roxanne. It is much more common than we think."

She says it as a whisper, her gaze a little blank, and she has lowered her head. I don't really understand, the silence settles in. I think about her words, but I can't see what she meant to say. Aunt Hermione can't…

"You don't mean that... Well..."

"He was my father's best friend, he was a doctor, mine was a dentist. He had a perfect little family, a great wife, two restless boys. He never had a daughter. I was the one he fell back on. My parents never knew. He started when I was seven, it stopped a little before I was twelve, when I left for Hogwarts. Like you, I saw him again afterwards. He was almost part of the family. My father thought of him as his brother. He was there at Christmas, when we went on holiday, in the summer. It wasn't just because my parents were Muggles and we were moving away that I spent my holidays at the Burrow or Grimmaurd Square. It was to get away from it. It's true Roxanne, it's more common than you think."

"That's why you were able to spot the signs. It happened to you. You became withdrawn, like me."

She nods sadly and pulls my head back against her chest. I can't see her face anymore, but I know the tears are running down her cheeks. Her chest does not jerk, she cries silently, as always. It is the silence that kills us, the victims. We are so used to having to keep quiet, not to speak, because it is taboo, because we will not be believed. The truth only comes out of children's mouths when it suits the adults. When a child talks about sexual violence, or violence at all, it will always be lies. Even among victims, we don't dare cry out loud.

"Does Uncle Ron know? Does Rose and Hugo know?"

"You're the first person I've told. Ron always thought I was a virgin when we got together."

"But you managed to overcome your fear. I have not. I am afraid of men. I can't go near them. I've never had sex with anyone, at twenty-two."

"Everyone goes at a different pace, Roxanne, there's nothing wrong with that. I never had any friends until I got to Hogwarts. And at first I didn't really have any. The girls in my dormitory were insufferable, I worked too hard. And then Ron and Harry saved me from a troll, and our friendship started. It was shaky at first. But I learned to trust them, and I realised that they weren't all like him. But I'm not going to lie to you, I had a hard time approaching other men. Even today, when I'm alone on a date with a man, I'm never comfortable. Often it's confidential stuff, so I have to close the door, but I always check if there's someone near my desk. You can't get rid of all your demons. And if you don't have sex, do you think it's because you're afraid of them, or because you're not attracted to them in general?"

I don't answer right away, I don't know what to say anyway. I've never really thought about it to tell the truth. She can see I'm not comfortable, so she doesn't go on about it. Now that she's spoken, it's my turn, and I can do it. Aunt Hermione was able to tell me what she'd been through after more than thirty years of silence, I can do it. And she will understand me. She won't judge me.

"I used to like Charlie. Everyone did. He was cool, he took us to Romania, while the others worked. We didn't see him often, so it was nice for us all to go there. Once I went with James, Albus and Fred, it was the first time I was the only girl, but I don't get on with them so I didn't mind. The boys got into trouble with the dragons and he got angry. He punished them all, even Albus who hadn't done anything. I was so happy! Can you believe it? My cousins and my brother were finally punished, I could finally be alone with my favourite uncle. He raped me. I didn't know it at the time. But I knew it wasn't right. And then we came back to England, and I had to face him at every family dinner. No one suspected anything, except you."

I tell her what happened next, the months that followed, my return to Hogwarts, the feeling I had when I could finally put into words what I had been through. I cried, I stuttered, I even paused to scream, but it didn't matter, Aunt Hermione, listened to me and didn't interrupt.

"And then, at the end of my fifth year, I saw Lily. She was no longer the happy little girl I had left at the last holiday. And I knew, the moment I saw her dull red hair, I knew. And when our eyes met, it was confirmed. We talked about it half-heartedly. But even if he hadn't done it again with me, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't do it with Lily. I've never been so reluctant to go back to Hogwarts, I had a feeling something would happen, and I was right. Lily... I failed to protect my cousin. By my silence, I condemned her."

"It's not your fault, Roxanne. The only one at fault is Charlie. I failed to see that my goddaughter was locking up her magic and becoming an obscurus, no one saw it. If there is one person who is not at fault, it is you."

"You don't understand."

"I understand your anger and distress. I was not the first person raped by this man. My brother was raped before me."

"Your brother? You always said you were an only child, to everyone."

"He killed himself in front of my eyes when I was eight. He was twelve. We were always very close during our childhood, he and I, we were not very sociable, we preferred to live in our own world. His silence allowed this man to rape me in turn, but I never blamed my brother. He was as scared as I was. He could stand it much less, he felt weak, dirty. Then he went to school and got picked on. That was the last straw. He threw himself under the wheels of a car one day in February. The twenty-ninth, the cursed day. His death was very hard to bear, he was the only person who knew everything about me, he was my brother, my best friend, I was his little sister whom he protected. When the man wanted to rape us, he always made sure it was him instead of me. It didn't always work, but most of the time it did. We looked very much alike. Both physically and mentally. When he died, he fell back on me full time. Not a day goes by that I don't think about my brother. I wonder what he would think of what I have become."

"He would be proud of you, I'm sure."

"You told me about your discussion group. How did you end up going there? "

"It was after Salem. I made real friends there, even though I don't live in the wizarding world much anymore, I still see them, I know I can count on them, especially them. Olivia and Mary were the pioneers of my reconstruction. It is far from over, but like you, they understood that something had happened to me. I could see that they didn't really understand why I was so keen to go to a small restaurant in Boston, but they accepted it. It was there that I saw an ad for the focus group. I met some wonderful people, everyone is so caring, they really helped me. It was my therapist who wanted me to come here and talk to someone. I was against it at first, but Hannah convinced me, I owe most of it to her, she introduced me to a lot of people, she took it well when I told her I was a witch. I think she's especially looking forward to me taking her to the wizard alley in Boston."

"I'm glad you found someone to confide in. I really am. A lot of times in these situations, that's not the case. These discussion groups should have been around a lot longer than that, but the word is starting to get out. This is a good thing."

My therapist was right, Lily. Talking to someone in my family makes me feel better. I think she was imagining my parents or my brother rather than my aunt who went through the same thing, but Hermione is right, all that matters is that the word gets out.

"Aunt Hermione, can I ask you a very personal question?"

She nods, urging me to continue, a little surprised. It's true that we've been talking about very personal things for several hours, but this isn't exactly the same thing.

"What happened to him? To the man who raped you."

"He's dead. In 1998. I killed him."

My shocked look must be showing as she has a small contrite smile. I always saw Aunt Hermione as the perfect woman. A war hero, a prodigy from a young age, she has managed to run her professional career with an iron fist and has wonderful children. She is the youngest director of the Department of Magical Justice, and only the second woman. I have no doubt that one day she will be Minister for Magic. While she's killed someone, off the battlefield, yes it surprises me.

"In cold blood. It wasn't even that hard. He was alone in his office, I made an appointment under a false name, the last one of the day, and I cast a sectusempra on him. It's a black magic spell, it's normal that you don't know it. The victim dies painfully, bleeding to death. You may think I'm cruel, but he killed my brother, he destroyed my life, it's been thirty years, and his face still haunts me, I still have nightmares about him, so I watched him die, telling him my life, he was in pain, but it's never going to be enough for the pain he caused me. You're surprised."

"Yes. Why didn't you press charges?"

"Because I had no proof. In the Muggle world, there's no veritaserum, or a pensieve where you can put memories. Only physical evidence matters, and I didn't have any. Nobody would have believed me. They would have asked me why I hadn't mentioned it before, why I hadn't said anything. They would think I was only after his money. It is well known that doctors do not rape. People like that never get convicted, or the punishment is far too light for their crimes. Muggle justice is even worse than wizard justice, Roxanne."

"They are paedocriminals. I learned this word during my third session. I think it's good, it fits with what we experienced."

"It's better than paedophile for sure. Who loves children, what the hell!"

Aunt Hermione and I talked a lot, we exchanged our feelings, but she also asked me about my friends, my work, she seems really interested in what I do. Can you believe it Lily?

"And what do you want to do now? About Charlie, about the Weasleys?"

"I think I'd like to make a complaint. For myself, and also for Lily. I owe her this. Because it shouldn't go unpunished."

Aunt Hermione nods and tells me again that she will be there for me. I know it won't be easy, my friends have told me, the police, or aurors in my case, ask us all the questions that hurt, for some our complaints are just a waste of time. But unlike my friends, I have proof, the veritaserum and my memories are there to prove that it really happened to me.

Aunt Hermione hadn't lied, the interrogation was hard, Lily. I cried a lot, but I was spared. I think it helped to have their headmistress with me. They asked me a lot of questions. About you too. It was hard to face the Weasleys, as if nothing had happened, but they were all happy to see me, so I'm not sure if they noticed my confusion. Like every year, we're all here. Only Louis and Hugo are left now. Albus has finished his final year, he hasn't got his results yet, but I'm sure he passed his NEWTs with flying colours.

Charlie is here, as always, but he'll be arrested soon, the aurors have assured me. For now, the usual questions are there. Grandma keeps asking me when I'm going to find a boyfriend and get married and have kids, like I care. Grandad asks me all the questions he can think of about muggles, and I still get all sorts of reproaches about the life I lead, away from them, away from Britain, away from the wizarding world.

A subject is avoided, as always. You. It's been years since you died, Lily, but we still can't talk about your death. It hurts us all, even though the others try not to let on, I can still see Uncle Harry glancing at the place you used to sit all the time, and Aunt Ginny looking at her nieces, probably imagining what you might look like now.

We were quietly moving on to the desserts that Grandma had prepared when three people transplaned in front of us.

"Charlie Weasley," they asked him. He nodded, and immediately afterwards magical bonds imprisoned him.

"You are under arrest for rape of a minor and manslaughter. Anything you say can be used against you. You have the right to a lawyer and medical consultation."

With that, they disapparate with him, to the astonished eyes of my entire family, except for Hermione and me.

"This is an outrage! How can they barge in like that, in the middle of a meal! For such nonsense! Hermione, dear, you're their headmistress, can you go and tell them to release him, we all know he hasn't done anything."

"I wouldn't do that Molly. With all due respect, you have no knowledge of legal matters, the aurors are well within their rights, I assure you. The previous stages of the procedure are all perfectly in order, there was nothing to stop them arresting Charlie."

"Did you know? You saw that there was a case against my son and you didn't say anything?"

The verbal jousting between Aunt Hermione and Grandma continues, to the incomprehension of the other members of my family. I think they are all still in shock. Eventually Grandma stops fighting Hermione and turns to Mum.

"Angelina, you'll be able to defend him, won't you? This will all be over quickly. You're a great lawyer, getting a Weasley out of a wrongful prosecution won't be that hard."

"She won't." Aunt Hermione said in a firm voice.

"And why is that? Just because you found something against my son doesn't mean everyone will turn against their own family like you."

"She won't because I'm the one who filed the complaint. I doubt Mum will want to defend her daughter's rapist."

The last word of my sentence falls like a sentence, and there is silence. My family members look at each other, as if realizing the true meaning of my words.

"What are you talking about, Roxanne? "

My father speaks for the first time since the beginning. He stares at me, his face serious. I have never really been able to read my father, as much as I adore him, I have never really been able to understand who he really is. So today, I don't know if that serious face is for me or for Charlie.

"I'm the one who filed the rape charge against Charlie."

"And I'm the one who pressed charges for Lily."

Everyone turns to Hermione. It's the first time your name has been said, and they're all stunned, even more so that it was Hermione who did it, I think. It was Uncle Harry who broke the silence, a suppressed sob in his voice.

"Lily?"

"Charlie wasn't going to stop there."

"Roxanne, take it easy. That's a lot for them to take in."

"You're not Lily's mother, you have no business being in this! As for you Roxanne, I wish you'd stop talking nonsense about your uncle!"

"You don't know anything, Molly. You don't know my story, you don't know Roxanne's story, and you certainly don't know Lily's story. I'm her godmother in case you forget, I have full rights to the complaint by proxy, even more so if the complainant is dead."

"Isn't Luna Lily's godmother? And aren't you James' or Albus' godmother?"

Uncle Bill spoke. It's true that many people think that, because of her middle name.

"It was supposed to be Luna, but she turned it down at the last minute, saying she wouldn't be around enough. Ron is James' godfather, Neville is Albus'. Harry and Ginny fell back on me when Luna dropped out."

Everyone senses the resentment in Aunt Hermione's voice. It's true that she was Uncle Harry's best friend, you'd think she'd be the godmother of the first child, not the last. And then I think she was offended that she was only the second choice, when she thought of Harry as her brother, she told me in the Aurors' office. She said it in the past tense.

"I don't see what Lily has to do with the conversation. Roxanne, I thought you were mature enough not to talk nonsense. Do you realise the consequences of that? I don't know what it's like in the muggle world, but here we don't go around accusing people of rape. Just because you regret living in the US doesn't mean you have to lie to make yourself interesting. I-"

"Ronald. One more word and I'll file for divorce."

"You don't know anything about me, Ron. You know nothing about my life. Muggles, as you say, are human beings, not things you designate as fair game. There are wonderful muggles and loathsome muggles, just like wizards. I've learned to look past the prejudices I've been given since birth and yes, I'm proud to have muggle friends. It was the wizards who destroyed me. I'm happy to live without magic, I'm fine with that. And it's my muggle friends that have helped me to rebuild. I didn't trust anyone. My Salem and muggle friends saw beyond the end of their noses. They understood me, where you never tried to understand me. They all saw that something was wrong, that my past was not simple, but after all, I am a Weasley, I should be the perfect example. Too bad for you, you couldn't read my distress. You didn't observe me, and you didn't observe Lily. No one paid any attention to us. Now Lily is dead, and I, twelve years later, am still haunted."

I look at them proudly, staring into their eyes in turn. Aunt Hermione and I stand before them as a united front in the face of a family that doesn't understand. They are all distraught, but they don't all believe me. Your father breaks my heart Lily. Ever since your name was spoken, the tears keep rolling down his cheeks.

I think Uncle Harry's biggest flaw is his desire to save everyone. He blamed himself for the death of his parents, his godfather, all the people who died in the war. But your death was the blow that finished him off. He couldn't protect you enough, and he blames himself. But could he have? I don't think so. I didn't say anything, he couldn't have stopped Charlie from raping you, no one but me could. But maybe he should have noticed that you were keeping to yourself. I don't know, I don't know how much pain he's in. I'm going to tell him about you Lily, looking him in the eye, only him, because I know he'll believe what I say about you, because he's desperate and he needs to find someone to blame for your death, he needs to know the truth.

"I was eight years old when Charlie raped me. Nobody saw anything. No one told me it was wrong, but I knew it in my heart. It was at Hogwarts that I learned the word rape. Until a few years ago, I thought Charlie loved me too much. But now I know it wasn't love. I was raped while my cousins were in a room upstairs."

"My son is not a paedophile!"

"No, he's a paedocriminal. Now, Grandma, you're going to stop interrupting me, you don't know anything, so stay in your seat and listen."

I can see that my grandmother is shocked, as are my aunts and uncles, even my cousins. Nobody questions Molly Weasley's authority, it's always been that way. But it's time for that to change. Like all adults, she thinks she knows best, but she never sees beyond appearances.

"So yes, Rose, I was closed off, because unlike you, I knew the history of this family, I knew that all the adults were acting like they were perfect. This family has a problem, nobody listens to each other, nobody looks at each other, nobody understands each other. I shut myself off because I was raped, and no one could see it, not even my own parents. I would have preferred not to be part of that family. I would never have had to go through that, to have to rebuild myself after such an event. And even without that, since I was born I've had a lot of pressure on me, just because my last name is Weasley. When I was here, everyone knew me, I couldn't take a step without being told about my family. In the States, nobody knows me, and I'm fine with that. I left to get away from the UK, away from Hogwarts, away from Charlie, but also away from you. There I could start to discover myself.

But I also left to escape the ghost of Lily. Because it's partly my fault she's dead. I don't know exactly when Charlie raped her, but it was before the summer holidays, during my fifth year. Lily was ten years old. I saw it straight away. Like me, she kept to herself. We exchanged half-spoken words, but I never imagined her becoming an obscurus. I kept quiet when I was eight years old, when I was raped, I kept quiet, when I was fifteen years old at Lily's funeral, I threw up in silence, I cried in silence, as always. I kept quiet when I decided to go to Salem, I kept quiet at every meal when I saw the man who raped me as a child. All my life I've kept quiet. But now it's over. I have spoken."

I don't know what will happen to me, to Charlie, to my family. What I do know is that I have just caused a family crisis that no one could have imagined. Tears mingle with cries of hatred, pain and incomprehension. I let them cry. I am not alone, I am no longer alone. Aunt Hermione, Hannah, the talk group, they all support me. I know you're here Lily, you're with me, and you approve of what I'm doing. I deeply regret your death Lily, but I could never have spoken then, now is the right time.

The Weasleys will never be the same. The papers will run wild, our family will be divided, I know in advance that some will never believe me, but others will believe me, support me, and that's what matters. My family will become shreds. I don't know the future. I don't know if in a few years I will still be talking to my relatives, I don't know if this family will still exist, but it doesn't matter. I've created a new family for myself, one that takes precedence over blood ties.

I don't even know if Charlie will be convicted. Will witch justice be better than Muggle justice? Only time will tell. But either way, I wouldn't have done it for nothing. The word must get out. Survivors of incest, rape and child abuse must speak out. And others must listen to us. We need to make our voices heard so that this doesn't happen again, so that paedocriminals are caught before they can destroy lives.

Some people take longer than others to rebuild, but that's okay. In the end, it doesn't matter. What matters is that we are here, alive. No one has to kill themselves like Aunt Hermione's brother. No one has to become an obscurus like Lily, because paedocriminality is so taboo that children don't talk.

My name is Roxanne, and I was raped by my Uncle Charlie when I was eight years old, like thousands, maybe millions of children around the world. But that does not define me. I am proud, today, to tell you my story. My future is uncertain, but I will be well looked after.

My name is Roxanne, and I am a Survivor.