Beta'd by the youthful InsaneScriptist.

Of having the misfortune of being right

Dorea might not have minded sitting through the Quidditch match if it hadn't started raining barely twenty minutes in. Admittedly it had been pretty damn obvious from the ominous slate-grey clouds that rain had been in the cards today, but that didn't mean Dorea enjoyed huddling in her winter cloak, the hood pulled up to shade her face with Warming Charms ensuring her gloves, scarf and socks actually kept her comfortable rather than simply making sure she survived the icy downpour. Dee on her left was almost sitting in her lap with how close she was snuggling and Blaise was so hunched sideways in his attempt to shelter from the wind his face was inches from Dorea's own.

"Crappy rain, stupid shit sport, moron wizard bastards for inventing it," she muttered mutinously in Italian as Zee mumbled agreement with every profanity uttered.

"Sorry Rhea; it's more fun to play and you don't notice the cold so much in the air," Terence said apologetically from her other side, reaching out to wrap an arm around her shoulders and shelter her from the bitter wind. "How about a compromise: I'll show up early to get seats in the sheltered stands and you come along and watch without my chivvying you."

Dorea eyed him sideways. "Can't I just skip out on the wet games entirely? I hate getting cold." She really did, since it made her feel sick to her stomach and it took her forever to warm up again afterwards. There was a reason she had all those expensive cashmere vests in her trunk and it wasn't that they went well with her complexion. Warming Charms could only go so far, as evidenced by their soggy, miserable weather-induced huddling.

"You really need to socialise more Rhea," Rence said with a wry smile that made Dorea's stomach wobble strangely. "You were enjoying bantering with the firsties before the game, weren't you? Don't you feel a part of something bigger out here?"

"You are evil and I hate you," Dorea said flatly, but without much heat as Sally-Anne shot past on the Cleansweep Seven she'd borrowed from Neville. Sally-Anne was the new Gryffindor Seeker and was actually pretty good, though Dorea had no idea why Neville owned a broom when he'd never ridden on one before last year and didn't like flying much at all. Maybe it had belonged to one of his parents?

It had actually been nice to meet some of the new lions separately before the game and her badger cousin had even introduced her to a few of them, which had enabled her to cross two girls and four boys of her 'potentially possessed' list. That left another four girls –there were rather more girls than boys in their year, with nearly half the boys being Muggleborn– including Ginny Weasley, whom Dorea was starting to get a bad feeling about. After all, if it came out that the youngest child of the cheerfully ineffectual, Muggle-loving and Dumbledore-supporting Arthur Weasley was attacking Muggleborns, things could go very badly for said man and his new Muggle Protection Act which was currently moving through the courts. If that was the case it was entirely possible that someone had deliberately exposed the littlest Weasley to a Horcrux, which rather limited the suspect pool as the number of people Riddle would have trusted with such an item was very limited, especially when you crossed of the Lestranges due to their one having been destroyed already.

Dorea didn't actually care how one of her school-mates had wound up possessed; she was more interested in identifying them and coming up with a way to reverse the affliction before it killed them. She suspected the Soul Fire that was part and parcel of her Blood Ward would be able to purge a possession –it had after all protected her– but she didn't know how much it would damage the person possessed. In her own body the Ward reinforced, strengthened and healed, but it might not do the same in others. However if the choice was between killing an innocent and horribly maiming said innocent, Dorea would go with maiming every time. Even if it meant she was more likely to get in trouble since her involvement could be proven.

"Aw, Rhea! You say the sweetest things!" Terence teased, ruffling her damp hair with frozen, sodden fingers. Dorea pushed him away, confused by the warmth in her chest and the sudden heat in her face. Why did she like Rence touching her all of a sudden? It didn't make sense!

After the game –which Slytherin lost quite unexpectedly when Sally-Anne Perks caught the snitch from right on top of Draco's head– Dorea went directly back to the dorms for a long hot shower, then up to the hospital wing. George Weasley had broken his arm when two bludgers converged on him from different directions and Lockhart, in a stunning display of ineptitude, had Vanished all his bones from the elbow down. Fred had needed to be sat on to prevent him from killing the strutting ponce and Dorea strongly suspected that the elder Weasley Twin would be making it his mission to torture the incompetent Defence teacher into a nervous breakdown. Dorea was tempted to help; it would be good practice for her investigations into Parselmagic…

George was about as well as could be expected considering his right arm looked like a deflated balloon, but Fred was with him and the dreadful duo were cheerfully confusing everyone –Madam Pomphrey included– as to which twin it was who had been injured. It never ceased to irritate Dorea that she was the only person –their parents included– who was never fooled by the constant switches and twin-speak. Not even their own siblings paid enough attention to tell twin from twin, which was despicable behaviour. Padma and Pavarti were equally identical, but their parents knew them apart, encouraged them in their separate hobbies and recognised that they had two daughters rather than one daughter who happened to have two bodies and two names to choose from. To everyone bar Dorea the Weasley twins were Fred-and-George and she found it less amusing that the twins liked to pretend it was. She could tell they didn't like it much either, but playing it up for laughs made them feel better about the whole issue. It was why she hadn't bothered to clear up the confusion over which twin was actually injured.

Dorea left them to their cheerful plotting of how to go about smuggling some butterbeer into the Hospital Wing and retreated back to the Slytherin Common Room for a spar and an early night. Ric had agreed to allow her to start using a real sword after Christmas provided she kept up her current rate of improvement and Dorea was looking forward to being able to pick one that suited her out of the Family Vaults. At this rate she might actually be good enough to no longer require structured lessons by the time Avery graduated at the end of the next school year. Being recognised as competent with a sword was something Dorea was desperate to achieve sooner rather than later, as evidenced by her hard work and constant practice.

In Charms she and the rest of her little group were about a year ahead, in Battle Magic –as that was what the jinxes, hexes and curses learned in Defence technically were– they had completed the year's curriculum and were well into independently expanding their expertise, in Transfiguration they were not ahead but were definitely completely capable and confident in themselves, in Potions Dorea had got Neville to the point that he actually turned in a functional potion about half the time and rarely caused explosions –her own independent work was going very well too as Hermione and Padma had pitched in– and she was apparently at about fourth-year-level in Runes, though the ones she was best at –Chinese Runes– were not taught at Hogwarts at all. Herbology Dorea enjoyed but lacked both talent and enthusiasm for, History she was seriously considering avoiding entirely and Astronomy she suffered through ungraciously. Her grades in the latter three however were impeccable regardless of her lack of interest. At least after taking her OWLs in the last two in the first week of the Christmas holidays she could stop attending them and would have more free time to work with.

Her grades in her optional classes were also high, with her Ancient Studies teacher talking about letting her move up a grade in the spring, the Art Professor starting her on the complicated Animating Charms involved in giving her paintings more semblance of life than simple movement and the Music teacher –who evaluated her progress once a fortnight– had actually smiled warmly at her this week. Professor Runcorn was a stern, unrelenting perfectionist so that was high praise indeed, especially since he had been firmly disapproving of her preference for 'Muggle music' until he had discovered how much more complex and well-written it was. Dorea loved learning but not for its own sake: she loved first and foremost being able to do, so all that she learned had practical applications. This was where she differed from Padma and Hermione, both of whom loved knowledge for its own sake.

"Wake up Mistress! Wake up! Basileia wanders the halls and threatens those under your protection!"

Dorea's eyes flew open, blinking blearily at the boomslang that was hissing at her frantically.

"Basileia?" she repeated bemusedly.

"The Queen of Serpents moves through your nest and she hungers, Mistress!" the snake insisted, swaying in agitation. Dorea scooped up the nervous serpent and placed him around her neck as she pulled on an extra pair of socks, a warm jumper and slippers and wrapped her invisibility cloak around herself. It seemed 'Slytherin's monster' was indeed a Basilisk, a female one if Fizz was to be believed, and it was even now at large. This meant that Fred Weasley's plan to visit his twin in the Hospital Wing had the potential to go very wrong for him and she really needed to warn them both. Not bothering to go even as far as the common room, Dorea turned to one of the serpentine statues in the corridor connecting the girls' dormitories and hissed the password:

"Make way for the heiress."

The snake shifted with a grinding of stone, revealing a steep, narrow staircase that Dorea hurried up even as behind her the statue returned to its original position, cutting off all light. Not that Dorea needed light; holding out a hand from under the cloak she murmured a spell that conjured Coldfire, enabling her to continue up the spiral stair without risking injury.

The staircase emerged behind a tapestry of a Lamia on the first floor, not far from the viaduct. It was also less than five minutes' walk from the Hospital Wing, so Dorea extinguished the conjured fire, wrapped her cloak around her once more and made her way silently and invisibly past the dozing portraits to the wide double doors that marked the entrance to the infirmary. Slipping inside, Dorea noted that George's bed at the far end and he looked to be asleep. Fred was nowhere to be seen, which was worrying. She stole over to the redhead's side, let her cloak slide off onto the floor and tapped him on the nose.

George woke with a groan, his forehead wrinkling in pain from the partially-regrown bones in his arm as he opened his eyes and blinked at her. While he'd managed to get to sleep earlier despite the pain he was in, it might take him a bit longer to drop off again as the mid-phase of bone regrowth was supposedly the most painful part.

"Fred?"

"No, it's me," Dorea said patiently as she settled on the edge of the bed. "I've found out what Slytherin's monster is."

George's eyes widened. "What is it?"

"Basilisk," Dorea said grimly. "They can kill with a look, making wandering around at night extremely unsafe right now. I was hoping Fred would be here, since it's almost midnight, but if he isn't–"

George looked sick at the implications and tried to get out of bed, but Dorea shifted forwards so she was sitting on his chest. "Look, we don't know, do we? He might just have got caught by McGonagall and sent back to the Gryffindor dorms. Or there was no butterbeer left in Gryffindor Tower so he had to go and get some first." Dorea knew there were passages to Hogsmeade and that the twins knew where they were; how else did you explain their ability to get hold of sweets, chocolate and butterbeer at less than an hour's notice?

George still looked distinctly unhappy but stopped trying to get out of bed.

"That might be him now," Dorea added hopefully, her ears picking up the sound of footsteps.

However it quickly became clear that more than one person was moving down the hallway outside and Dorea slid off the bed and pulled the invisibility cloak over herself even as George lay back on the cushions and pretended to be asleep.

The doors to the hospital wing opened to reveal Professor Dumbledore backing into the room, holding one end of what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall followed after him moments later holding the feet. The Transfiguration Professor was fully dressed, indicating she'd been patrolling the castle, but the headmaster was wearing a dressing gown and nightcap. They placed the statue on a bed; it was about as tall as McGonagall and was wearing red pyjamas.

"Get Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore whispered and McGonagall swept past the end of the bed George was in towards the Matron's office and quarters, walking within a foot of where Dorea was huddled on the cold floor. Carefully rising to her knees and doing her best to make as little noise as possible, Dorea peered over the bed to get a better look at the statue Dumbledore was standing over. At that moment moonlight streamed in through the tall windows and Dorea had to employ all of her mental discipline not to gasp.

Lying on the bed, eyes wide and vacant with one hand held up as if leaning on a wall and peering around a corner, was Fred Weasley. At that moment McGonagall swept back into the room, Madam Pomfrey on her heels. Dorea took advantage of the brief increase in ambient noise to shift over so she was kneeling right beside George's pillow and clamped one hand down over his mouth, making sure the angle was about right for her to be hiding under the bed rather than beside him and invisible. The way Papa had told it Dumbledore hadn't known Uncle James had an invisibility cloak until after they graduated, but now he was aware of the possibility of invisible students at large he had likely taken precautions.

"What happened?" Madame Pomfrey asked as George's eyes opened wide.

"Another attack; Minerva found him near the mirror at the corner of the main fourth floor corridor and the hospital tower corridor," Dumbledore said gravely. "He had a case of butterbeer with him; we believe he was coming to the hospital wing to visit his twin."

George's eyes bulged and his face paled horribly, his entire body stiffening as a horrified moan tried to get past his tightly closed lips. Dorea kept her hand firmly in place, palm braced against the underside of George's chin so he couldn't move his jaw.

"Petrified?" Madame Pomfrey whispered.

"Yes," McGonagall said. "But I shudder to think… If Albus hadn't taken a detour on his way down to the kitchens for some hot chocolate, who knows what might have…"

George went limp in relief, his eyes briefly fluttering closed. Dorea took a deep, slow breath, trying to calm her frantically pounding heart. Not dead, thank God and Merlin, Fred wasn't dead.

"What does this mean Albus?" The Transfiguration professor asked urgently.

"It means," Dumbledore said slowly, "that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again."

Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. McGonagall looked shocked.

"But Albus… who?"

"The question is not who," Dumbledore said, staring with furrowed brow at Fred Weasley. "The question is, how?"

McGonagall didn't seem to understand but Dorea did, all too well. Riddle had clearly opened the Chamber before –probably while he was at Hogwarts as a student– and Dumbledore now realised Riddle was somehow in the school again. She would have to write to Aunt Lucretia about the last time the Chamber was opened and step up her investigation into who out of the younger lions was possessed. George would help her there; right now he'd probably hand over his soul if she told him it would revive his twin. Thinking of which, she'd have to ask Aunt Lucretia to see about getting hold of mature mandrakes as well; Professor Sprout's mandrakes that they were studying in Herbology wouldn't be ready until May at the earliest so they'd have to see about shipping them in from the southern hemisphere. Probably New Zealand. That way Fred could be revived around New Year, early February at the latest. That would help Fred, George and any future victims but it was both typical and suspicious that Dumbledore wasn't taking the same steps since he clearly knew what was going on from prior experience. The headmaster had no need to wander about a draughty castle at night in search of hot chocolate when a house-elf could be summoned to bring it to his bedside.

After the professors had left Dorea swiftly removed the cloak and sat back on top of George before he could get out of bed.

"Get off me! Fred–"

"Is fine," Dorea hissed urgently. "Petrified people can't be harmed by anything less than the Killing Curse; the magic keeping them petrified protects them. He's in stasis and won't remember anything between it happening and being revived. He won't age either, so you're going to have to get used to being the older twin from now on."

George made a sound halfway between a chuckle and a sob.

"Look, I'm down to four possible suspects on the whole 'Heir of Slytherin' thing," the twelve-year-old went on, "and I'm pretty sure it's one of the first-year Gryffindor girls who is possessed by whatever's doing it. If I can get into the tower I can identify specifically which girl it is–"

"Password's 'Bat-Bogey' right now," George interrupted hoarsely.

"–right, thank-you. Then I have to get them out of Hogwarts to Uncle Ignatius and Aunt Lucretia, as they know how to get rid of possessing spirits without killing the person afflicted," Dorea continued, "which unfortunately will have to wait until Christmas as I do not trust Dumbledore to call in an expert. He'd probably try to deal with himself, like he is doing now when he really should have got a Curse-Breaker in right after Halloween. In fact, he should have got somebody in way back when people started muttering about the Defence position being cursed. He's a Transfiguration Master and a Duellist but he seems to think that being Albus Dumbledore makes him an expert in everything."

"Great-Uncle Iggy can do that?" George's eyes brightened briefly. "Cool." He'd not seemed to notice her brief rant at Dumbledore but Dorea suspected he'd heard it and would be remembering it. George could hold grudges just as well as his twin, he was just less obviously vicious about it. Both twins had rather a lot of their grandmother Cedrella in them.

"I'll see about getting some Mandrakes shipped over from New Zealand as well so you don't have to wait until June for Fred to be back to his normal self," Dorea promised. "In the meantime, are you going to be okay in Gryffindor without him?"

George swallowed hard, tears welling up. "Dorea…"

"It's okay if you're not," Dorea said quietly. "I can come up with something to keep you in school and away from your house-mates until Fred's up and about again. I can't imagine how you're feeling right now but I guess a change would help you not to think about it too much."

George stared at her, tears glittering on his eyelashes. "How?"

"I can hide you in Slytherin; I've got a lot of pull as Heiress Black and an idea of how to make sure you get politely overlooked," Dorea said, mind whirring through her hastily-cobbled-together plan. "You'd take lessons mostly with the fourth-year snakes and ravens, all of whom know better than to poke their noses into personal matters, and sleep in the Slytherin dorms, but you'll have to not take advantage of it to pull pranks. The common rooms and dorms are a safe place, a retreat, and I'll not be party to ruining that."

"Deal," George promised quietly. "I… I really don't feel up to pranking anyone right now."

"I'll come get you in the morning; don't leave before I get there," Dorea said urgently, "and be prepared to go along with my story. With Slytherins image is half the battle so as long as I can make this look right they'll overlook the reality in favour of the polite fiction." She huffed angrily. "Not even McGonagall knew which one of you had been Petrified! I'm not leaving you in such slipshod care when you're messed up like this!"

George shuddered, chuckling even as tears slipped down his cheeks. "Dearest, most wonderful and warlike Dorea, please never change. I… I don't know what to do. Fred's always been there and now…" he trailed off with a sob. Dorea leaned forward so she could hug him, ignoring the wet patch he left on her shoulder. He really had to be hurting to fall apart like this in front of her.

"Don't worry: I'll look after you. You're my favourite Weasley but don't tell Fred, Bill, Charlie or your Granddad I said that, okay? If you want to talk about it you can write to Uncle Ignatius: I know he and Aunt Lucretia have had all kinds of scary near-misses over the years and he'd love to have somebody to write to. Most people he knows are dead or off being Curse-Breakers half a continent away."

"See you tomorrow then," George whispered, reluctantly letting go of her. Dorea hesitated before reaching inside her jumper to retrieve Fizz.

"Fizz will keep you company until I get back," she said, knowing that her pet understood English perfectly well by now. The snake slid out of her hands and down onto the blanket, making his way up to the pillow and curling up next to George's neck. "Don't worry: boomslang's are pretty shy and retiring and he won't even dry-bite you unless you hurt him first." Unspoken was that having Fizz hanging over his person would keep just about everyone in the building at arm's length; the boomslang was well over five feet long now and still growing.

George's smile was wan and barely there, but it was a smile. Dorea smiled worriedly back then slipped out of the Hospital Wing, pulling her cloak back on once she was past the doors. George in his distress hadn't even noticed her vanishing and reappearing under the Potter heirloom, but that was no reason to be careless.

She would check the Gryffindor girls tomorrow night or the night after, once she had George properly sorted out. He needed to be amongst people who would see him for himself and not as one-half of Fred-and-George, the Weasley Twins. Managing that would take finesse, but she had a plan.