[Every so often, you need to find a line in the sand. And you stay on your side. The day you cross it is the day you lose yourself.
I did something horrifying.
I did something awful.
And it broke not only me but everybody close to my life.
I was angry. At first, I was so so angry at being caught. I… I didn't understand how my actions resulted in such despair from all of my mates. They wouldn't talk to me for months afterward, the divide from that time is still scarred into my brain. I had to take the time to consider my actions. To realize what I had done had been one of the worst things I have ever committed. And I was horrified.
For a long time, the line in the sand I drew was to not become my family. I always told myself that I wasn't the kind of person who would do dark deals and commit heinous acts. But one day, I got sick of a fellow. And at that moment, I made a dark deal and committed a heinous act. I was in denial, as things, in the end, worked out. Nothing bad actually happened. The other guy hadn't been hurt. But I saw that it did hurt others, to my friends and to the one I loved.
I'm sorry. I will always be sorry. And I can never make it up. I'm sorry to Snivellus, I'm sorry to James, and to the one who I broke their trust the most, I am sorry Remus.
I don't deserve your forgiveness. So please, never give it to me.
Remember. Never cross that line.
-Padfoot [untranscribed]
-Excerpt from the Marauders Compendium]
January was bitching cold. After Christmas, the snow seemed to be less than an excitable thing to play with and became an annoyance that went down everybody's shoes. Harriet had enjoyed it until the festivities were over. And seemingly everybody got tired of the snow overnight as well. School picked up again. People returned from their homes. Classes were being taught. And Harriet fell into a routine once more.
By the end of Christmas break, Harriet perfected two potions. One had ingredients that were moon-touched. The Hand-Warmer potion. It sat in a little vial and glowed slightly as it emanated warmth. If Harriet shook it would give out a stronger wave of heat. As far as Harriet could tell, as long as it never touched the air it would never stop. Although she kept an eye on it, looking to see it decrease in any power or change hue. But after using it for three weeks constantly, day and night, it seemed unaffected. The rest of the potion not in airtight bottles spoiled as soon as it took effect. Which had been about eighty percent of her stock. She luckily had only one bottle of it that remained stable. And honestly, Harriet really wanted the Hand-Warmer potion to stay potent forever. She had used up the last of Hedwig's eggs, which were a requirement for the potion. It had been a stroke of luck, really. Hedwig had laid some of her toad eggs during the night. And Harriet had been waiting for a special project to use them. She had to use gloves when handling them. But it had been so worth it. Hedwig's eggs were practically undocumented. Hell, everything about Hedwig was unknown besides the basics- incredibly powerful comas and hallucinogens. But besides that, nobody had really wanted to research the slow toad's magical properties. It was a gold mine. And Harriet was practically frothing at the mouth for the next time that Hedwig laid eggs. They were so versatile.
The second potion Harriet created was accidental. In fact, it was a failed potion entirely. Harriet had been trying to make a rather petty potion. She had an idea of making a potion that would cause the robe on a student to become invisible, revealing what they were wearing underneath. She got that idea from Justin Finch Fletchley, who revealed muggle clothes under his school robe once. If she could get the house elves to wash the robes with her potion then… well. The potion never worked out. She used moth-wings, silkworm cocoons, and wormwood in the hopes that it would retain its fabric. All of those were supposed to adhere to fiber and cloth-like textures. Then it was simple to try and concoct an invisibility potion. There were dozens of books out there that claimed that they found the true invisibility potion. And yes, they did make people look incorporeal. But none of them really worked. At least, not without terrible side effects. Harriet had applied the new potion to a strip of cloth and waited to see if it would work or not. Instead, to her complete shock, the fabric zipped up and hit her in the face, sticking there.
And thus the Clothes-Stick-To-Your-Face potion was created.
(It took her three hours to get it off. And only after she had to miserably brew a counterposition. She broke out in acne the next day. A horrible experience altogether. Turns out she was allergic to wormwood. She had to use it in her antidote as well. It was one of the most common magical ingredients out there. Who on earth did she piss off to get that luck of the draw in genes.)
January didn't hold many variations to Harriet's life. She went to her classes. She tried and failed, at casting spells. At this point, everybody knew how badly she was in class so nobody really paid any attention to her in the slightest. Only Flitwick tried to encourage her, but even his kind words were slowly disappearing. Daphne helped her with her hair, and Draco still walked her to their astronomy class. Ice Mice were quickly becoming Harriet's favourite treat.
It wasn't until nearly the end of January that Harriet managed to find Neville. Well, to be more exact, Neville found her.
"Hey! Harriet!"
At this point, it was so unusual for people to even speak her name that Harriet actually jumped. Plus, she was walking out of transfiguration. And to be honest, nothing ever really happened in transfiguration besides a few side remarks from a Ravenclaw and Professor McGonagall's disapproving look whenever she caught Harriet's eye. It was the most boring part of Harriet's day. Where she couldn't pull out her own books and entertain herself with whatever caught her eye. No, she had to pay attention in class. Which was a joke as she was barely able to scrape a passing grade in it. She barely eked out with enough extra credit essays on transfiguration and it's history. And so Neville coming up to her with a serious expression on his face was completely out of the ordinary.
"Could I talk with you for a mo?" He asked, shuffling his feet around. That troubling look still touched his face. Harriet stared at him and then gave a hesitant nod. They walked together until they found themselves in a relatively quiet spot.
Funny enough, Harriet had a packet in her bag for Neville. His belated Christmas gift. But she never had the time to give it to him. Maybe this would be a good time to-
"So Harriet. I uh. I heard something about you earlier today?" Neville ran his hand through his hair nervously. "And I wanted to see if it was true. And please, don't get mad at me if it isn't. I just, you know. Want to confirm it." He paused, "is it true that you're friends with Draco Malfoy?"
Harriet paused. Friends? Did he count as a friend? Sure, he was nice. The more that Harriet thought about it, yes. Yes, he was. Draco was a little silly and had a big ego. But he was kind to her. And he sought her out most days to at least tilt his head at her with that nobility greeting of his. Weird. But that was what Draco did. He was a friend. Or at least a very close acquaintance. With that in mind, Harriet gave a slow nod to Neville.
He slumped. "No. Harriet please, don't. I just- he's such an arse." Neville sighed, "he makes fun of 'Mione's hair all the time. And calls me scarface. Maybe he's just trying to get close to you to humiliate me. At least, that's what Ron thinks." He paused again, and Harriet stared at him. Unsure of how to react. "I know that Hufflepuff is all about friendship and loyalty. I know this is hard for you to hear. And I am sorry. I really am. I don't want to hurt you. But you need to know that Draco Malfoy isn't a nice person. He's mean. He's- he's a bully. And I don't want you to get hurt by him. You should stay away from him. Please." He gave her a sad look. Like he cared about her.
Harriet stared at him. And then finally, she wet her lips and spoke. "And what is Ron?" She rasped out.
"I- what?" Neville blinked. Finally, it was his turn to be shocked.
"What about Ron? He makes fun of my hair. He calls me stupid. He thinks I get close to you because you're famous or whatever." The more she talked the more Harriet raised her voice until it started to crack. "He flicks paper balls into my hair and robes every herbology class. He trips me in the hallways. He laughs at me and so does-"
"This isn't about him!" Neville interrupted her. "I'm talking about a Slytherin."
"I'm talking about a bully." Harriet firmly replied. "He laughs at me and so does everybody else. It doesn't matter what house he's in. It doesn't matter-"
"Ron isn't a-" Neville tried again but this time Harriet didn't pause. She talked over him, her voice turning shrill like Aunt Petunia's.
"-what anybody's house is. There are mean people everywhere. Draco Malfoy is nice to me. He likes to be around me. And he doesn't ignore me for three months!" Harriet pointed a finger at Neville, "unlike you!"
And like that, Harriet spun on her heel. Her nose in the air, just like Daphne taught her. And she walked away without another word. She was Harriet Lily Potter-Black. And she didn't need people to tell her who to be around. She was perfectly fine by herself. And Neville Longbottom and the rest of the Gryffindors could go sod themselves.
Surprisingly, word about her yelling match never made it to the gossipers. In fact, Harriet was sure that people were going to be staring and whispering about her. The mute girl who screamed at a boy. But instead, the topic of the day was about how Snape got his robe sleeves burnt off by a third-year. The poor blighter was in the infirmary. But when he got out of there he was surely in a world of pain.
Harriet didn't know whether or not to be relieved by this. Neville hadn't told. And nobody had overheard. Which was saying something as the paintings loved to talk about everything that happened in Hogwarts. But there was something akin to guilt in her when she did her usual glance to the Gryffindor table. Instead of the usual chaos that enveloped the table, they were a bit more sullen. Mostly because the people who instigated the chaos usually were sitting around Neville. Harriet recognized most of them as Ron's lackeys and other Gryffindors who liked to laugh at her. With the exception of the twins, who, as far as Harriet knew, never looked at her once. Neville was in the middle of the huddle, poking his plate with his fork. He was looking sad. And the rest of the table were downtrodden as he was.
Harriet felt... well. She didn't know what she felt. She felt sad. And guilty. And angry. And a bit betrayed. And jealous. Because everybody was around Neville. He was their friend. And they were so concerned about him.
Harriet didn't have anybody like that. Unless she counted Crabbe and Goyle. They were more in touch with their emotions, unlike Draco or Daphne who could easily win at poker. But they also had rules in Slytherin that Harriet didn't have. They had to separate themselves from the other houses. Although Harriet understood, it just meant that they would never comfort her if she ever looked sad in the Great Hall.
She didn't glance over at the red table again. She ate what she could, which was very little and then left. She had a few hours before Snape required her at his remedial class. And she was going to hide beneath a mountain of books before that.
Of course, Hermione found her there.
Bollocks.
Harriet was curled up in a dark corner where spiderwebs liked to appear, a book of runes in her hands (it explained how balance could also be extended in a three-dimensional shape. Meaning you could have runic circles layered over smaller or bigger runic circles and they would act like they were in a sphere. Fascinating) and Hermione found her. And the first words that came out of the girl's mouth was-
"Are you really reading that book? Or are you looking at the diagrams?"
Harriet's eyes defocused and mentally she sighed. Resigned. It seemed like Hermione was still incredibly rude. Instead, she snapped the book closed and returned it to the shelf behind her, where she had found it previously. She picked up her bag, stood up, and turned to leave to find that Hermione was stubbornly standing in her way. Harriet braced herself as Hermione opened her mouth.
"Neville told me what happened. And I think you are incredibly rude and shortsighted. He was only trying to warn you about Malfoy being a git and you blow up at him." Hermione started, and Harriet tried to brush past her except Hermione wouldn't let her go. "Did you hear about how he tried to get Ron and Neville detention? Hmm? Just because you're a Hufflepuff doesn't mean you ought to be loyal to him. He's sexist, rude, intolerable to anything you say, he hates muggles, a prat, a-"
Harriet this time forced her way past Hermione. "Hey!" The girl tried to raise her voice, but this was a library. And instead, she squeaked instead of yelled. Hermione started to follow Harriet. "You need to listen to me. Draco Malfoy isn't a nice person. Maybe instead of following him around you could actually learn the stuff in class? He's only making himself look brilliant because he's purposefully surrounding himself around those who are failing his classes. He's going to trick you and humiliate you at the worst moment! He's done it to so many people already." Harriet walked faster now. In fact, she was nearly sprinting to get away from Hermione.
Finally, she felt a hand grasp on her elbow, and Harriet was abruptly stopped. She stared into Hermione's brown eyes. "Can't you see it already? He's tricked you. He's using you." She huffed, "he's turned you against Neville to hurt him! All those things that you said about Ron aren't true. Ron is great to be around. Draco said all those things. And even if you don't believe me then you should know that Dumbledore told us all about this! If you can't see it then you should believe what Dumbledore says. He's the headmaster and he's worried about you getting hurt!"
Harriet yanked her arm out of Hermione's grasp. There were a dozen words that Harriet could say to that. All of them foul and hurtful. Instead, Harriet remained silent. Because it was the only response that she could give without verbally attacking Hermione. What held her back? Harriet didn't know.
Instead, she fled. Her remedial class would be better than this. Behind her, she faintly heard Hermione say, "I think it's better that you aren't Neville's friend then."
What did Dumbledore need from her? Why was he trying to do this? Those were the only thoughts that swirled around in Harriet's head during her potions remedial class. Occasionally Harriet looked over to Draco, who was leaning over Crabbe's cauldron, muttering in simple words about what to do. His hair was usually gelled back, but with the heat of the boiling potion, a few strands fell into his face.
He was just a boy. Eleven years old. Did he really hate Gryffindors that much?
Yes, yes he did. Harriet realized with a start. He was always upset with something. He didn't speak about it in their remedial class at all. He was always so focused on what he was doing, and Harriet supposed he didn't want Snape's ire on him either. But when they were in astronomy he would always talk about something that the Gryffindors did. And more than once, she faintly recalled him speaking about Longbottom. That was Neville's last name, right? There was a rivalry between them. And Harriet hadn't realized it. Maybe he was a bit mean to Gryffindors.
"Miss Potter." Snape loomed overhead. "I hadn't realized that the stone walls were so fascinating for you to stare at." Harriet shrank underneath him. She looked down and saw her potion a sickly brown color.
(Huh that was the same reaction that moon-touched fennel seeds would have-)
Snape waved his wand and it vanished from her cauldron. "I suggest you start over. If you were to even try to drink this headache-reducing potion you would be turned into a slug. Although I see you already have the mental capacity of one."
A thing flashed into Harriet's head. A spark of brilliance. Excitement. Dread. How could she not have seen this before?
If she naturally failed at every potion in Snape's class, and she needed to also catalog different types of failures… Why not do it in class?
Oh, that was such a terribly exciting idea.
She had been trying to figure out what the new properties of the moon-touched ingredients were. Purposefully causing potions to erupt or become poisonous. But that would be using her precious supplies. But she could just continue doing what she was doing in class instead! Why hadn't she thought of this before? Snape already was bitter towards her. Why not make it twice so? He was nasty but she could cope. If she were to do it in the name of, erm, science.
Harriet looked down at her empty cauldron and slowly began a new potion. This time, she plucked three hemlock leaves instead of the one that was needed in the recipe. She didn't bother cutting them up like she was supposed to. She ripped them and added it to the cauldron. Then grabbed pixy dust, and forced herself to throw it in. (Her heart told her no. Her brain said yes.) If she was going to do this, might as well do it with a bang.
(It did go bang. Rather horrifically.
Grinning to herself, Harriet was dragged to the infirmary by a red-faced Snape. The blisters were worth it.)
Her next remedial class, Harriet had one simple potion to do. Make a paint removing potion. It was the magical equivalent to paint stripper. And it used harsh ingredients too. Too bad Harriet had snuck some rose petals in her sleeves. She wondered how troll stomach-acid would react to that. She also had pulled out devils snare seeds and moss floss from Snape's stores. She wondered what those two would be like together. And now she didn't have to dream it anymore.
Harriet had never seen a potion turn itself into a geyser before. It shot up with a boom and slapped the ceiling, the liquid projectiled with tremendous force. Harriet stumbled backward, avoiding most of it. But her poor arms were still affected by the steam that had been exposed to it.
Snape… oh. He was mad. There was a perfectly burned hole in his ceiling, and his face was a different color than his usually pale tone. It was red. He moved faster than Harriet had ever seen him do so before. "You dolt." Was his first insult, which was actually tame. The litany of almost-curse-words and descriptive detail of her lack of intelligence was next. As he practically ran to get her to the infirmary. He didn't run, per se. He walked extremely fast and Harriet had no choice but to match his pace. A dazed, but a proud look on her face.
(Her arms ached. They hurt, they burned, they throbbed. But… it wasn't bad. Harriet had worse. So much worse. It looked worse than it actually felt, really. A bit of her skin was falling off. Which was super gross. But it didn't hurt that badly. On a pain scale of one to ten, she'd call it a four.)
There was something inside of Harriet that wanted to see if Snape learned his lesson. She hadn't planned this to be a lesson in the first place. No, not at all. Instead, she had just wanted to further her own experiments. But she saw how white he looked when he saw her arms. Saw how he reacted. And wondered… would this happen if he had taught students how to be cautious when making potions? He never went over proper cutting techniques or what to look out for when a potion was about to go bad. He never taught kids anything like that. And Harriet only knew because she had her mum's notes and old books to teach her. And from what Harriet could tell, this was a common occurrence in his classes. Perhaps not as bad as her own mistakes. But students regularly destroyed their own work. Did they know what to do? Or did the other students have to figure it out themselves?
Dazed, Harriet idly wondered what life would have been like if Snape was actually a good teacher. He'd actually be nice. And he wouldn't snip at you all the time. And no more looming over students. And if he wasn't so terrifying all the time then Harriet might actually make one good potion in his class. Just one. It could even be the dumbest one in the book, Draught of Living Death. That one was just plain stupid. And then he'd see. He'd see that she was amazing and wonderful and not stupid.
If wishes were fishes, as the saying goes.
Snape was always going to be Snape. And Harriet was going to be herself. She will be better than him one day. Eventually. All she had to do was just grow. And learn. And do cool things like make a potion explode.
Harriet hissed between her teeth before Madam Pomfrey finally saw her. The matronly woman was a force to be reckoned with.
"What have you done with your arms again! This is the second time you are here in two days!" Pomfrey descended on her like a hawk. Swooping Harriet away to tut over and chide. Like the mother hen that she was.
The twins and her relationship shifted around a bit after the war had ended. With Harriet winning. And them losing. No longer did they throw pranks around every single day. With the knowledge that there was a second party that was guilty, most students couldn't hold the same grudge against the twins anymore. And with the near abrupt stop of pranks, most students (and the gossip mill) figured that the second prankster had been trying to frame the twins. It had been all some sort of twisted revenge plot to get back at the two trouble makers.
But to Harriet and the twins, they were simply more careful. Less flashy. The twins (uh, what were their names again? Tom and Jerry? Yeah. Tom and Jerry) moved first. After they were tossed none-too-gently into the air, they started to move things to the left. A few centimeters to the left, to be precise. Harriet didn't notice it until a couple of weeks went by. The tables in the great hall. The benches. Desks and chairs. The teachers' desks. Papers. The suits of armor. Even the paintings. The only thing that tipped Harriet off was by the fact that she had seen the Prefect Weasley bump into the Gryffindor table three times within twenty minutes. She snorted because it was kind of funny. But she soon realized that nearly everybody was doing it! Including her!
It was a prank that went unnoticed by the entire castle. With the exception of both her and the twins. Nobody mentioned it. And eventually, the students and teachers got used to the new positions that it didn't cause any problems after that.
Wickedly genius.
Taking a leaf from their book, one night Harriet used a hasting potion from one of the school textbooks and slathered it on two of the three moving staircases. One had slightly more potion than the other. So that the timing of every staircase was off. Not a single one lined up. At all. One would leave just as the other arrived, missing the staircase by mere seconds. Much to the frustration to the older students and those who were so used to getting into class just as the bell rang. The detentions from being constantly late to their classes were slowly rising. And yet, besides the bitching of the older classmates, nobody really caught on to it. Except, Harriet hoped, the twins.
Harriet thought herself to be a little brilliant as well.
They were taking their sweet time between pranks now. Two weeks for each one. Harriet was waiting for the next one to arrive. Keeping her eye out for anything odd. Well, odder than usual. This was a magic school after all. One Gyriffindor boy kept on lighting things on fire. Unintentionally.
But it was a complete shock that it was Harriet herself who was targeted next. The little dumb-as-a-brick Hufflepuff firstie. It was only three days after Neville confronted her. After Hermione yelled, Snape berated her for causing a simple potion to explode. Twice. Less than seventy-two hours, actually.
The first sensation that Harriet registered was cold. Frigidly cold. Like she was sitting outside in the snow. Harriet had only just stepped into the Great Hall. (The cursed place where apparently everything happened.) The Herd was mostly ahead of her, with a few older students walking behind her. There was a space of people between her and the next person. Harriet froze midstep. As the next sensation of wet and sticky appeared next to the cold. It seeped into her clothes. It stuck to the bandages on her arms. And she stared ahead, although she could see the bright fluorescence green goo that was apparently poured onto her from above.
Laughter rang out.
Harriet blinked. Only once. Still frozen by shock.
Her eyes flicked up and goo was now on her face because her eyelashes were tinted green now. The entire table of Gryffindor was pointing and laughing at her. It was not the smirks or the giggles that the Ravenclaws gave her whenever she failed in class. This was full-on belly shaking laughter. Some of them were crying (Ron) It was so funny. To see a small girl covered in green sticky slime.
"Mr. Weasleys!" McGonagall's voice rang out. Swooping in.
The two boys shook their heads. "No! It wasn't us!" One said.
"It was the other guy!" The other boasted.
Their faces were flush. They were trying to hide their grins. And Harriet stared at them. Her lips trembled.
"We would never do that!" The boys spoke in unison. Their words echoed in the hall. And in Harriet's head.
Was this going to be the new thing? First, they took all of her credit. And now? Now they were going to blame her for everything that they did? They were going to hoist all of the consequences onto this 'mysterious prankster' and leave themselves untouched? Was that the cycle all along? To use her?
Oh, if only they knew. If only they knew that it was her. Would they still have done it? Because the three of them knew without a doubt that it wasn't Harriet who did this. The entire school would believe their words. The school always believed them. And besides, what could she say?
Sprout was next to her. Muttering words and kind touches. A gentle grasp on her bandaged arm (it stung like crazy now that there was something getting into her half-healed skin), and Harriet was finally guided out of the Great Hall. Sopping wet and green. She stumbled her way to the infirmary. Sprout by her side, telling her it was, "alright, dearie. This sort of thing happens. Now, now. Don't cry. You don't need to show them your tears. Don't show them that they got to you."
Harriet knew she was crying, thank you very much. But she didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want it to be voiced aloud. Because that meant that other people saw her cry and Harriet didn't cry. But still, her eyes were full of tears and she tried to blink them away. It wasn't later, when she was in the infirmary bathroom, with a stack of clean clothes next to her, that Harriet looked in the mirror. Tear tracks formed in the green goo, her red-rimmed eyes, her bedraggled hair that looked more like dirt than red hair. She looked like a drowned rat. Miserable. It was there that she let go of her mask.
Harriet took in a deep breath. And wept. She had really, really hoped that the twins were better than their brothers. She wanted them to be. Desperately so. She wanted to be friends with them. Harriet hadn't realized that she had that desire. But after watching them be so brilliant and amazing, she wanted to approach them. Tell them with as much drama as she could muster that it was her all along! Laugh at their shocked expressions. Make mischief with them. Because out of all the people at Hogwarts, they were the ones who were most like her. They were brilliant.
She had been so blind.
Harriet closed her eyes, and she sniffled a little. They targeted her. Probably because of the fight she had with Neville. They saw a small girl and thought that the height of humor was to humiliate her in front of the school. They singled Harriet out and tried to make her regret her decisions. They had their revenge against her. She had been so blind. But now she knew the truth. They were Weasleys. And they cannot be trusted. They are mean and cruel. And bullies. And Harriet didn't want anything to do with them anymore.
The war had been won. And now it was her who was defeated.
Harriet was done with the twins.
(There is always a choice. Agency was given to the mortals of realms in order for everybody to have a say in what was happening in their lives. Some say it could be for judgment of a higher being of power, to send those mortals to heaven or hell based on their choices. Others might say it's to spice things up so that every universe isn't the same. When faced with a choice there are several options to choose from. And some of them are good. Some of them are bad.
Charlie Weasley had the choice of talking.
When his brothers had come clean to him, Charlie could have turned around and betrayed that trust. They… his brothers. His little brothers, Fred and George, had kept such a secret from him. It hurt. Knowing that they didn't trust him. Or Bill. Or even their father. Yes, he always knew his brothers were the most closed off from the entire family. Even though they were cheerful and practically everywhere. They only trusted each other.
But Fred could…
It seemed too silly to even think about it. To even acknowledge what Fred could do. Because the idea bewildered Charlie. His two younger brothers have such a terrible weight on them. Fred was… Fred. And to know that he has had to deal with- with the future? It was incomprehensible.
Charlie knew what seers had to do. What they had to live with. Hell, he took divination and he was almost certain that Professor Trewlany wasn't screwed up in the head due to drugs. Visions took their toll. And Fred was in danger. They could come at any time. And one day he will see something that would break him. Charlie could still see his little brother lying on the ground still, almost hyperventilating by what darkness he saw.
"Somebody is going to die, " Fred said, with a pale face that was void of mirth. And it was one of the most devastating things that Charlie had ever seen. His brother never should have experienced that moment. Ever.
What could Charlie do? Who could he turn to? Their parents? The authorities? There always was a bounty for seers or clairvoyants. The Unspeakables take those reported and either return them or don't. And Charlie could never do that. There were always so many rumors that it was better to turn them in because the Unspeakables have ways of making them live longer, be happier, lessen the blows of the visions. And Charlie called that bullshit. Because when he was little, he remembered his father telling him of his great-great-great grandmother Elena Weasley, a woman with no fears. She could See things too, but nobody reported her to the Unspeakables. Because she was always willing to go out of her way to help others, and the small wizarding community she lived in didn't like the ministry either. Which was probably lucky as the Unspeakables monitored the bloodlines of those who have powerful Sight. And as good as Fred and George were, they were only thirteen, nearly fourteen. They couldn't hide their secret from an organization that took pride in knowing everything.
That night, when his little brothers stayed up late to tell him their secrets. When the candles sputtered out and the moonlight was high above, they talked about what Fred had Seen. Fred tried to elaborate more on what he saw, but he also said that it was hard to remember details that slid out of his head. Sometimes it was also his words that failed to convey what he experienced.
George and Fred clutched each other's hands tightly. And Charlie leaned over and grasped Fred's other hand. And reluctantly, Fred spoke. He spoke of blood. So much blood and a pale wrist. He saw fire. Burning fire. Burned flesh. And a man screamed near a mirror. The moon hung overhead, the red star shining next to it. And he felt like he knew that it was going to happen in the near future. And that was all he knew.
What could they do about it?
It was a life. Whoever died hasn't yet. Their death was preventable. Whoever it was, they were alive. And it could be stopped. But at what cost? Who could they tell it too? And who could not use the knowledge of Fred's power to their advantage? Would they sell out Fred? The two brothers would be separated. Forever. The Weasley family forever shattered. To save a life, they would have to doom Fred.
It was a selfish choice. All three of them.
Charlie stayed quiet.
And that was his choice.)
(Out of the 2,105 universes that Fred was a Seer in, Charlie didn't stay quiet in 452 of them. There was a multitude of reasons why he spoke up about his brother's abilities. Some of them were life and death situations. And a few others it was an accident. Or Charlie was desperate to get out of the second wizarding war, dooming his brother at the hands of Dumbledore.)
And in all of those 452 universes, Fred was never happy after that. And 189 of those universes, Fred died within three weeks of being in the Unspeakables care.
It is to say, that we, in the Harry Potter department, do not care for the Unspeakables. They tend to do unspeakable things.)