Fredrick honestly couldn't understand what the big deal was.
One minute he was walking down the sunny (abliet almost empty) street, about to take a shortcut alley to Flourish and Blotts. Then suddenly a couple of Ministry officals were waving their wands threateningly at him after he had given them a friendly hullo and answered their question that, yes, he was a squib. But c'mon, he wasn't stupid! He knew Muggleborns couldn't go to work, had to get tattoos, carry cards, yadda yadda yadda. But Fredrick barely bothered to carry his card around, though, because he hardly ever ventured into the wizarding the world. Anyway, it just seemed stupid for him try to keep up on all of the restrictions unless they began affecting his halfblood sisters. After all, when it was all said and done, Fredrick was a Squib. It wasn't like he could do much harm to anyone. Hell, up until this point, the Ministry had ignored him for most of his life.
"What d'you mean I'm not allowed on my own?!" Fredrick found himself shouting when one of the officals tried to grab his arm. "Wha--back off, buddy!"
It seemed that while he was out of the country last week, he'd missed something very very big.
Fredrick stuffed his hand in his pockets, trying to retrive the card that showed proof that he was a Halfblood at least. This was a bad idea. The two Ministry officals must have thought he was going for his nonexistent wand, because before Fredrick knew it he was being pushed against the dingy brick wall with such force that the back of his head knocked against it with a thud.
"This isn't any of your business," Fredrick heard one of the officals say, which made absolutely no sense in Fredrick's context.
He yelled, his eyes snapped shut in pain, Fredrick gripped the back of his head and yelled, "Fuck it isn't any of my business! Jesus Christ!"
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