DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, who isn't me. The only profit I get from this is personal satisfaction.
Expert Opinions
When the feast concluded, Fred got up from the Gryffindor table. "I guess I'd better find out what the Slytherins are up to. Fred, you keep me posted on Gryffindor's status, okay?"
"Sure, George," George replied. The ease with which they could switch identities was probably one of the reasons no one could tell them apart.
"Charlie, you're in charge of making sure he doesn't do anything stupid while I'm gone."
"You just make sure the Slytherins don't give you any trouble," the red-headed prefect replied. "When you want to come say hi, find the Grand Staircase and take it up to the seventh floor and then ask a painting how to get to the Fat Lady's corridor—it's faster that way."
Fred nodded, and left the Great Hall to follow the Slytherins. The Slytherin prefect led them all down to the dungeons and stopped in front of a wall.
"All you first years, listen up! You do not speak of this to any of the other houses. To get into the Slytherin common room, the password is 'True Nobility.' This password is subject to change without notice, at a minimum of once every two weeks. You forget what the password is, you'd better hope the other prefects like you, or you'll be sleeping out here."
The group walked into the common room, which had a greenish hue on everything that wasn't black and skulls and snakes decorating the floors and walls.
"Where do I get a Death Eater outfit?" Fred asked to no one in particular.
"That's enough out of you, Weasley," the prefect snapped. "Girls dorms on the left, boys on the right. Your trunks have already been taken to your rooms. Beds are first come first serve. If you need any help with anything else this evening, I'll be on the couch over here," she said as she sat down by the fireplace. "Now off with you. Oh, I hate the barmy first years…"
Fred followed the other students to the dorm and found George's trunk at the bottom of a pile of luggage. Instead of waiting for the others to move their junk, Fred decided to go find Dumbledore's office so he could get the old wizard's help with fixing George.
He snuck out of the common room—fortunately the prefect was engrossed in what appeared to be a girly novel, so she didn't even notice he was there—and headed towards the staircase that would get him closer to the Great Hall. On the way, he passed several paintings and one of them asked, "Are you lost, young one?"
"Maybe," Fred replied. "I'm looking for both Dumbledore's office and the Gryffindor common room."
"Try the seventh floor. The Grand Staircase generally doesn't move unless you are moving too fast for its tastes, so just follow this hall and take the next couple of lefts and then a right. I bid thee good luck."
Fred managed to get to the seventh floor without much trouble, found out where Dumbledore's office was, and arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady after only two more missed turns.
"Password?" she asked.
"I forgot," Fred said.
"Then you will be out here for a long time, young Gryffindor," the Fat Lady replied.
"Come on," Fred complained, "it's the first night and I'm deaf in one ear and I couldn't really hear what the prefect said the password was."
"I will make an exception just once—and only once, Mr. Weasley—because this is your first night here. Please ask one of the other students for the password before you head out to explore the castle next time."
"Well, I wanted to show my brother something as soon as possible so I expect you'll be seeing me again soon," Fred replied. "And if he doesn't know the password, I'll learn Mum's infamous Bat Bogey Hex first thing and practice on him."
"You youngsters, always so violent…" the Fat Lady lamented as she let Fred in.
"George? What are you doing here?" Percy asked.
"I forgot that I'm Fred. I need to show George where he'll be sleeping."
Percy sighed and pointed Fred up to the dormitories. George had already taken out most of Fred's things and arranged them around one of the poster beds.
"It took you long enough," George complained. "George, this is Lee Jordan." The boy was dark-skinned and had dreadlocks. Fred also suspected that Lee's mouth would never contort to a form that was not a type of smile.
"So you're the crazy kid who's going to be torturing Slytherin House this year?" Lee asked. "I wish you well in that quest, though I must find out what happened under that hat someday."
"I think the Sorting Hat finally reached the stage where it's old and senile and it forgot how to do its job," Fred replied. "Fred, do you want to pay the hat a visit and give it a piece of our mind?"
"Our mind agrees with itself," George replied. Lee rolled his eyes, but didn't seem to actually be bothered by Fred and George's unusual personalities. He just seemed like he enjoyed a good joke. Fred thought this Lee Jordan could become his new best friend if something got rid of George forever, then scolded himself for even thinking such a thing. George was going to be okay—he had to.
The twin boys went to the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office. "Do you know the password?" George asked.
"I may have forgotten that part," Fred admitted. But, since it couldn't hurt to ask, he said to the gargoyle, "Can we come see Professor Dumbledore? It's important."
The gargoyle tilted its head at them, but ultimately hopped out of the way to let the twin boys up to the Headmaster's office. If asking for passwords was all you had to do, there was definitely a humongous hole in Hogwarts security. Fred strongly suspected he was getting first-day special treatment, so he should milk it for all it was worth.
"Misters Weasley, I had a feeling that I would be seeing you," the elderly wizard said as Fred and George entered the room. There were weird doodads all over the place and Fred would have to take a good look at them all someday and see if any were fragile. Not today, though. "I never thought I'd see a Weasley in Slytherin, but the Sorting Hat assures me that it had a good reason."
"What?" George asked. "We're not in Slytherin! Unless… Fred! Why didn't you tell me?"
"I would have thought you'd be aware of what house you were in, especially after that interesting speech which you gave," Dumbledore said.
"I gave a speech and no one told me?" George cried.
"I was hoping Dumbledore could fix your problem and that you could be re-Sorted before you found out," Fred stammered. "I know that makes no sense when you say it out loud, but…"
"What is your 'problem'?" Dumbledore asked. "The Sorting Hat believes it would color my perception if it told me outright, but besides amnesia, I am not sure what is happening here."
"I need some pumpkin juice," Fred said. The Headmaster opened a drawer and took out a bottle and glass.
"Sorry about this, George," Fred said as he poured his glass and drunk.
George blinked. He was in the Headmaster's office and Fred and Dumbledore were looking at him like he was about to explode. Or become possessed.
"So, you two went to Dumbledore," George cursed under his breath. "Of course, you did."
"How curious," the Headmaster said. "Am I correct in assuming that you in fact are not George Weasley?"
"I'm George Weasley, alright."
"He's lying," Fred said. "He wrote a letter to George where he called himself the Saintlike One."
"I'm not lying," George retorted. "What I said was correct from a certain point of view." Hermione of all people had once got all the Weasleys to sit down and watch Star Wars. Ever since, it was quoted on a daily basis by someone with red hair. And if Dumbledore recognizes that quote, then he gets bonus beans.
"Why, precisely, have you chosen to torment young Mr. Weasley, Saintlike One?" Dumbledore asked.
"That's my own business, I think," George replied. "I don't really know how this all is being accomplished—I was offered an opportunity to possess a certain eleven-year-old kid and I accepted it. My reasons for doing so do not conflict with any plans you have, to my knowledge. I fully intend to keep young Harry Potter safe after he starts Hogwarts in a couple years—I'd make an Unbreakable Vow if it puts your mind at ease."
"I cannot trust any magical manifestations that come from the body and magic of young Mr. Weasley to necessarily apply to you," Dumbledore replied.
"What if I send you my Patronus when I return to my real body? I haven't cast it in years, but I think I can still do it." Losing Fred had meant losing the ability to cast one, but now that Fred was alive again, George could be seriously happy again.
"You have your own body?" Dumbledore asked. "That is not a normal possession trait."
"Is possession ever normal?" George retorted. "I'm, to the best of my knowledge, neither a singular nor a group of ghosts, poltergeists, Legilimens, or Horcruxes, at least. I've been led to believe that the bond between young George Weasley and myself is as natural as one such as this can be and I believe we can attain mutualism over time."
"I would like to take you at your word," Dumbledore said, "but I would like to meet your other self in person, to ascertain this for myself."
"There are things I have seen that are not for your mind," George said quietly. He figured it was a bad idea to even hint to the universe about his time travel—and even if it didn't notice or care, there was no way that Dumbledore would find out before Fred did and Fred wasn't ready for the truth just yet.
"Do you realize that you're talking to the world's greatest wizard?" Fred asked George. "He lived through Grindelwald's war and managed to stop him!"
I need something that'll keep him from prodding… George thought. He had an idea. "I know what happened to Ariana," he lied. Harry had said it was Dumbledore's greatest fear to know who had really killed his sister. With luck, the old man would be deterred.
"Gellert?" the Headmaster whispered. "Or Aberforth? Which one are you?"
"Neither. I know of no Dark Lords who are up for anything right now and I'm confident that you are aware that your brother's Patronus is a goat. As for mine, Expecto Patronum," George said, calling up the memory of when he and Fred had dropped out of school. A raccoon emerged from George's wand, not quite as bright as it once was, but it still made his point. "At the very least, you can be sure my heart is pure enough to repel a Dementor. I'll send it to you again after Fred takes another sip of pumpkin juice."
Fred took that as his cue to send George back to his older self's body. George's soul recovered quickly from the transfer—that seemed to be getting progressively less annoying—and he grabbed his wand and, after pausing a moment in case Dumbledore was trying to figure out where he was judging by the time it took for his Patronus to reach the Headmaster, he said, "Expecto Patronum!" The raccoon headed for Hogwarts.
"George, are you okay in there?" Fred asked.
"I say I am, but what if the Saintlike One is pretending to be me? That's bound to happen sooner or later."
"Your possessor seems a frank fellow," Dumbledore said. "Either he is the cleverest Slytherin I've seen in almost fifty years or he is genuine."
"Well, the Sorting Hat voted for Slytherin," Fred said.
"Actually, I have only put young Mr. Weasley in Slytherin so that the other students do not take him at face value," the Sorting Hat said from a high shelf. "I have even less of an idea of the intruder's true character than you do."
"You threw me into Slytherin based on a guess about the guy in my head?" George cried.
"I never place a student into Slytherin lightly," the Sorting Hat replied. "You will be able to handle it."
The white raccoon the Saintlike One had produced earlier came into the room and climbed onto Fred's shoulder. George attacked it crying, "what is that thing?"
"It's a corporeal Patronus," Dumbledore explained as the raccoon dissipated. "Your possessor produced it after leaving you. Patronuses are made of positive emotion and no true Death Eater can produce one. There exist, however, very unpleasant individuals who are capable of the charm, so your possessor may still have malicious goals in my mind."
"He told me he wanted to 'help Harry Potter kill Voldemort in a couple of years,'" the Sorting Hat said.
"Young Mr. Potter certainly has a grand destiny ahead of him and he may indeed face Voldemort again," Dumbledore mused. "But is it this parasite's desire to gain influence over Harry?"
"Don't forget that he mentioned Horcruxes!" the hat called out.
"What's that?" George asked.
"It's a very dark piece of magic that I suspect Voldemort of creating. Do not research it—only evil can come of it. The Sorting Hat should have waited until you were gone until it reminded me about it."
"Well excuse me for keeping the children in the loop," the Sorting Hat huffed. "They should tell you if they hear the intruder talking about it again."
"Even so," Dumbledore as he turned back towards Fred and George, "both of you boys should run back to your dormitories."
"But I'm in Slytherin," George lamented.
"True," Dumbledore said, "and although it would attract far too much unwanted attention to re-Sort you, I am confident that the Fat Lady and Salazar's wall can forget who they have jurisdiction over, as long as the correct bed is occupied at the end of the night. Claim Spontaneous Duplication if anyone gives you trouble."
"Thank you professor," Fred and George both said and they went down the stairs to the gargoyle.
Albus Dumbledore briefly touched the minds of each Weasley twin as they left. They were so similar that the Headmaster had no doubt that both should have been in Gryffindor. George Weasley's parasite, however, felt very similar as well, though with more undertones of darkness.
"So," said the Sorting Hat said, "what is your plan?"
When did you become my advisor? Dumbledore wondered. I thought Severus had that job. "I need to find the other body of the parasite. Once I do, then I can figure out his intentions. His magic is too unfamiliar for him to be a student here previously, so I'll have to figure out where he learned magic."
"Not to sound contrary, but his first thought under me was him understanding exactly where he was and what was going on," the hat said. "He's familiar with this place and it is entirely possible that he was a student before you became a professor. I have no idea which student it could have been, but my exposure to the children is rather limited."
"If you weren't Sorting based on paranoia, where do you think the possessor would be?"
"I have no idea. If you ever corner him, let me have a look at his head, would you?"
"Unfortunately, if this man is as much of a meddler as I think he is, I doubt he will give me the opportunity."
"Meddling is no crime," the Sorting Hat said. "You do it all the time."
"I'm the only meddler I know who hasn't fallen to darkness yet," Dumbledore lamented.
"I'm sure that you are far too old to fall to the dark side without a very strong push."
"Thank you for that vote of confidence," Dumbledore said, "but I cannot but think that little good can come from leaving an eleven-year-old boy possessed at Hogwarts."
"As far as we know, this is a very limited form of possession that is controlled by the person George Weasley trusts the most. You should worry about the influence the intruder will have on those around him. But I digress. Where should you look first for the intruder's natural body? I suggest checking anyone who has appeared out of nothing over the past year or so."
Dumbledore nodded. The Sorting Hat must have gleaned a lot of good sense from the centuries of being placed on people's heads, even if they happened to be only eleven-year-old children. "I think I have just the person to talk to," Dumbledore said as he silently summoned parchment and a quill to begin his letter.
Mr. Fletcher,
I hope you are well and that your understanding of the world below is as thorough as it has always been. I understand the danger you have put yourself in on my behalf in the past (though I suspect you have no trouble endangering yourself without my help) and I must call on you once more.
Please send me a list of previously unknown individuals who have arrived in magical Britain through mysterious circumstances over the past year or so, with a stronger focus on the recent. I am searching for the owner of a raccoon Patronus who may or may not pose a threat to Hogwarts students in the near future. Any other unsavory characters who are found through this search by coincidence will be ignored unless I receive condemning information from an independent source.