The Thing about Orphans
Fred knew the home he grew up in was cramped. After all, when he was three he shared a room with his twin brother located on the second floor, where footsteps haunted the halls and stairs practically all hours of the day. Sometimes even at night. Three older brothers, two busy parents, and a recently new addition to the already crowded home.
Fred had always wondered how the family managed to stay a float, noticing his mother never went out to work the way his father did. But food was always on the table and the siblings always had something to entertain themselves with so there was never any issue. Until it wasnt. Fred still remembered that day, more than he remembered his mothers voice, or his older brother's faces, or even his twin brother's name. The day his mother had called him away from his twin, never to return.
His mother had been shaking, tears building up in her eyes. She had been desperate not to start sobbing in front of him. He remembered asking her if she was ok. She had just nodded and hugged him tightly before just handing him over to his father who quickly had done the same. Then he’d been taken out of the house. He remembered later losing track of his dad, who he had desperately searched for late into the night. Now he knows it wasnt an accident. The weasleys were too poor and had too many kids. One would have to go. And of course, why not pick one that's a simple carbon copy. You’ll hardly notice it missing. Wandering into London as a scrawny little five year old. Being largely ignored by any one out at the time. taken to an orphanage by concerned adults as the sun goes up, with only one thing to dwell on as your carried off.
The realization that you're never going home.
He was hostile when he arrived. That he still admits, but to be fair, being left to die by your “loving” father in the middle of the night, not knowing if your siblings knew what happened to you did not make you the most friendly individual. Though he did come around to talk to a kid who’d been dropped off a couple weeks later. The pure-blood had been able to see that he was also magical. He had pushed away his rage and sorrow and let himself fall back onto his troublesome personality. The kid warmed up to him almost immediately. Introduced himself as Harry Potter.
That got Fred surprised. The kid was the twin of the boy-who-lived, at least that's what the name suggested. What was he doing here? The redhead had asked him of course, even if he was wrong he was curious on why the three year old was there. Then Harry explained and Fred had never so quickly forgotten his own problems.
Harry’s parents had twins. That much Fred had Known from the start. Cameron, and Harry himself. When their parents died in a “car crash” they’d been dropped off at their rather unpleasant aunt and uncle’s home. Harry made it clear neither of them were wanted in the first place. The first memories Harry had were of being locked away in a cupboard with his brother. Then a letter came in the mail under the cover of night and that had changed everything. Harry had been dragged to the orphanage and left, and he hadn’t the faintest idea why. Fred had listened to the boy, nodding along to what he had to say, while questions began filling his head.
When all of the children had been let outside the Weasley led his friend to the fence where he explained all about the wizarding world, including the truth about Harry’s parents deaths, and possibly the reason why Harry was kicked out. The black haired boy was silent, his eyes clouded and downcast. It was that moment that Fred had noticed the scar on his tan forehead, the rough shape of a lightning bolt. Then it hit him.
“I think I got it wrong actually. Chosen ones ' pose to have a scar, like the one you got. Think they got you and your brother mixed up. You're the hero everyone's pose to be celebrating.”
Harry’s head had snapped up at that, his face flickering through emotions like a tv switches through channels. His eyes had hardened then. The realization that he was gotten rid of merely for he wasnt thought to be the chosen now to find out he very well was in just the span of a couple hours hurt. With that his mind was made. If he really was the chosen one, then screw the wizarding world. They could fall without him.
Fred had stood up then, with his hand reached out, and Harry took it. Neither had noticed at the time the shadowy figure watching near the side of the building, unseen by the staff or other children. Neither saw the smirk upon his face at the confirmation of the scar of Harry’s head. Was probably for the best they hadn’t. Afterall, who would wanna get adopted by that?