"It's never seemed like a very good idea." The Ministry hadn't been noticeably friendlier at any point in recent memory. Of course, he'd only started paying attention about five years ago, but Fudge's administration hadn't exactly distinguished itself by its level-headed tolerance in any regard. Even after he'd been bitten Bertie hadn't done too much research into the everyday consequences of registration, not wanting to draw attention to himself, but he could only imagine it entailed more repressive surveillance than he was willing to cope with, particularly in the week running up to and especially at the full moon. There was nothing about being stuck in a room at St. Mungo's for a night that he found appealing.
There wasn't much he liked about carting himself off to the woods every month and hoping for the best, either. "Believe me, there's no need to worry about that. I don't have any plans to add my name to their roster. But that does make it difficult to get one's hands on the modern conveniences." He'd looked up the procedure for brewing it himself, but even if some of the ingredients hadn't been restricted it would have been beyond his ability. The anger and frustration he'd felt every month he didn't have it wasn't something he was likely to talk about, because it touched something in him that was still far too vulnerable to share, but he was clearly keen on getting his hands on something that would start to change all of that. "It's stupid, if you ask me."