Riddled Truth

A/N: Thanks to Sable_Silverrain for betaing. Harry and Draco coming up? Woohoo! Enjoy chapter two, and remember to review to let me know how I'm doing!

22 May, 1993

They woke the next day to brilliant sunshine and a light, refreshing breeze.

“Perfect Quidditch conditions!” said Wood enthusiastically at the Gryffindor table, loading the team’s plates with scrambled eggs. “Harry, buck up there, you need a decent breakfast.”

Harry had been staring down the packed Gryffindor table, wondering if the new owner of Riddle’s diary was right in front of his eyes. Hermione had been urging him to report the robbery, but Harry didn’t like the idea. He’d have to tell a teacher all about the diary, and how many people knew why Hagrid had been expelled fifty years ago? He didn’t want to be the one who brought it all up again.

As he left the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione to go and collect his Quidditch things, another very serious worry was added to Harry’s growing list. He’d just set foot on the marble staircase when he heard it yet again: ‘Kill this time…let me rip…tear….’

He shouted aloud and Ron and Hermione both jumped away from him in alarm. “The voice!” said Harry, looking over his shoulder. “I just heard it again – didn’t you?”

Ron shook his head, wide-eyed. Hermione, however, clapped a hand to her forehead. “Harry – I think I’ve just understood something! I’ve got to go to the library!” And she sprinted away, up the stairs.

“What does she understand?” asked Harry distractedly; still looking around, trying to tell where the voice had come from.

“Loads more than I do,” said Ron, shaking his head.

“But why’s she going to the library?”

“Because that’s what Hermione does,” said Ron, shrugging. “When in doubt, go to the library.” Harry stood, irresolute, trying to catch the voice again, but people were now emerging from the Great Hall behind him, talking loudly, exiting through the front doors on their way to the Quidditch Pitch. “You’d better get moving,” said Ron. “It’s nearly eleven – the match –”

Harry raced up to Gryffindor Tower, collected his Nimbus Two Thousand, and joined the large crowd swarming across the grounds, but his mind was still in the castle along with the bodiless voice, and as he pulled on his scarlet robes in the locker room, his only thought was that he hadn’t seen Draco Malfoy at breakfast that morning.

-=0=-

May 21, 1993

‘I will take you to the past. Show you what I showed Mr. Potter, but I know you will see what he did not.’

The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a high wind, stopping halfway through the month of June. Draco watched, mouth slightly agape as he leaned in closer to the date of June 13th. Before he knew what was happening, he was tilting forward; the book was drawing him in, he felt his body leave the chair in his dormitory, and he was pitched headfirst through the pages into a whirl of color and shadow.

He felt his feet hit solid ground and stood, brushing his robes off as the blurred shapes around him came suddenly into focus. He knew immediately where he was. The moving staircase looked almost the same as it did in his time. A door opened on the third floor and out walked the sixteen year old Tom Riddle, whom Draco followed. He could see that he’d just left the Headmaster’s office.

Riddle stopped on the platform, and so did Draco, watching him. Draco could tell that Riddle was doing some serious thinking; he was biting his lip, his forehead furrowed. Keeping a lookout for any place that Riddle may be signaling to, or have thought to hide the item he was looking for, Draco matched his eyesight with nothing unparticular; a portrait on the first floor, possibly, but it was a rough guess at best.

Then, as though he had suddenly reached a decision, he hurried off, Draco gliding noiselessly behind him. They didn’t see another person until they reached the entrance hall, when a tall wizard with long, sweeping auburn hair and a beard called to Riddle from the marble staircase.

“What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?”

Draco looked back at the wizard, realizing who it was. None other than the fifty year younger Dumbledore. “I had to see the Headmaster, sir,” said Riddle.

“Well, hurry off to bed,” said Dumbledore, giving Riddle exactly the kind of penetrating stare Draco knew so well. “Best not to roam the corridors these days. Not since…” He sighed heavily, bade Riddle good night, and strode off.

Riddle watched him walk out of sight with Draco and then, moving quickly, headed straight down the stone steps to the dungeons, with Draco in hot pursuit. Riddle slowed, however, in time to look where Draco knew all too well the Slytherin dormitories to be. He looked at the candle for a moment, set in a silver holder in the stone wall, speaking a very fluent phrase.

‘ Nonnullus res es optimus ut occultus.’ Riddle said, walking down the corridor now.

Draco’s eyes widened a little and he walked where Riddle had been. “Some things are best when hidden.” He whispered to himself, viewing the candle holster. That was where it was hidden, Draco determined. That close to Slytherin’s dormitories, yet in a place no one would look.

Running to catch up with Riddle, he was disappointed to see that Riddle’s memory was already fading. The scene whirled, the darkness became complete; Draco felt himself falling and, with a crash, he landed on his chair in his dormitory, Riddle’s diary opened on his desk.

-=0=-

22 May, 1993

Draco woke with a start, eyes open but body still as he stared up at the top of his canopy bed. After blinking a few times, the blond turned over, reaching under his pillow and finding the diary still in place. He opened it, satisfyingly finding no worded messages, and put it back before getting up and beginning to dress.

It was early in the morning, but that’s what Draco had planned on. He wanted to get to the secret hiding place and have time to inspect and learn about it before handing it off to anyone. As he tightened his tie, Draco looked at himself in the mirror and combed his hair back, gelling it in place.

The twelve year old walked from the dormitories then, everyone else asleep but the Prefects that would surely be doing rounds. No matter, as walking into the dungeons was still technically Slytherin territory and he knew Marcus wouldn’t have his Prefects lurking after Draco.

The common room was, expectedly, quiet with the lack of students studying and talking up nonsense. Draco was thankful for the lack of having to explain himself and walked out of the commons, into the stony corridor. The candle holder from Riddle’s memory was in place about fifty feet from the entrance to the common room. He could feel the smirk rising on his face.

His strides were slightly longer, trying to get closer and closer to where he’d need to be. Soon enough, the candle holster became closer, then directly in front of him as Draco stood by it, looking up curiously as if wondering what to do next.

Reaching up to touch the holster, the blond delicately tried to turn it to the right, but found it wouldn’t budge. Frowning, he tried oppositely, in a counter-clockwise direction, and was justly rewarded when it turned minimally, then at a forty degree angle. Chips of cement crumbled around a particular stone, loosening it and drawing a bit of dust from the cracks around it.

Draco’s eyes widened slightly and he took the stone, gently removing it from the wall before checking to make sure no one was coming. Pulling it from its broken confines, he bent over slightly to look at what the stone had hidden.

The space was void of any item, only baring a piece of parchment with writing on it.

Raising an eyebrow, Draco took the parchment, blew dust from it, and read what it said. “In this struggle you remain a greater part of duo worlds slain. To give yourself what you desire, a dubious companion is what you require. Quick to judge friends and problems arise, quick to judge enemies causes sure demise.”

Frowning once more, Draco looked up from the parchment and stared down the hallway, though his mind was on one person only. He sneered, thinking of the one person he thought the parchment was talking about. “Potter.”

-=0=-

Some of the students swarming around them were grumbling about the match being canceled; others looked worried. Professor McGonagall had cancelled the match for no apparent reason, then told Ron and Harry to follow her back to the castle immediately. They followed the professor back into the school and up the marble staircase. But they weren’t taken to anybody’s office this time.

“This will be a bit of a shock,” said Professor McGonagall in a surprisingly gentle voice as they approached the infirmary. “There has been another attack…another double attack.”

Harry’s insides did a horrible somersault. Professor McGonagall pushed the door open and he and Ron entered.

Madam Pomfrey was bending over a fifth-year girl with long, curly hair. Harry recognized her as the Ravenclaw they’d accidently asked for direction to the Slytherin common room. And on the bed next to her was –

“Hermione!” Ron groaned.

Hermione lay utterly still, her eyes open and glassy.

“They were found near the library,” said Professor McGonagall. “I don’t suppose either of you can explain this? It was on the floor next to them…” She was holding up a small, circular mirror. Harry and Ron shook their heads, both staring at Hermione. “I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower,” said the professor heavily. “I need to address the students in any case.”

-=0=-

“More students have been petrified,” Snape drawled, eyes circling the common room as he spoke. A particular blond head was missing. “They were found near the library earlier this evening. A Ravenclaw fifth year and another Gryffindor – Mr. Malfoy, where have you been?”

Draco had chosen that direct moment to walk out of his dormitory, scowl firmly on his face. He’d just been contemplating how to get Potter’s help without asking for it, but it was a harder idea to wrap his head around than he’d expected. “I was studying, Professor Snape,” he answered, walking to an empty chair and sitting in it, looking at the professor intently.

Snape shifted his glare to roam around the room again, stopping on no one unparticular until he reached Draco once more. “According to the Headmaster, new rules will be set in place,” said Snape. There was a roll of parchment in his hand, but Snape was clearly not reading off of it; he held it behind his back as he spoke. “All students will return immediately back to their House common rooms by six o’clock in the evening. You cannot leave after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher, even to the bathroom,” sneered Snape. “All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed –”

Marcus Flint gave a deep snarl.

“—and furthermore, there will be no more evening activities.” The common room stirred with whispers, but Snape silenced them immediately to continue. “I need not stress that this situation is dire; such to a point,” he paused, looking at everyone once more, “that Professor Dumbledore and Minister Fudge are considering closing the school unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught.”

Draco kept his thoughts to himself. If the school was closed, it didn’t mean a thing for him. He’d simply go to Durmstrang along with the other male Purebloods, and the females would surely have another institute to enroll in. Professor Snape glared at everyone for a final time before walking off, out of the common room and into the corridors. Draco stood immediately after, walking out about two minutes after he’d left, ignoring the questions his Housemates asked of him.

As quietly and naturally as possible, Draco walked from the dungeons up to the Entrance Hall, seeing nightfall was upon them. And there, on the edge of the window, was a regal-looking owl that Draco recognized immediately. Glancing around, Draco furrowed his brows once more and opened the window, letting Imperious swoop in and land on his arm.

‘Why is father writing me so late?’ Draco wondered, unraveling the letter from the owl’s foot. Imperious clicked loudly and flew back out the window. Draco closed it afterward and opened the letter to read his father’s message. A grin spread on his face and he looked out the window toward the oaf’s shack. His grin dropped; there were two boys standing on the oaf’s front door, and when the half-breed opened his door to allow them entrance, Draco could make out red and black hair.

Potter and Weasley had gone to visit Hagrid. And they’d be there when his father arrived with the Minister to take the half-breed to Azkaban.

Draco wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than having Potter in his dormitory; he’d planned on threatening him to help him, but maybe having him out of the way would be better. Easier to get into the dormitory, in any case. He just had to find a Gryffindor that was stupid enough to trust him, if only for a few minutes.

His first thought was that poor excuse for a wizard, Neville Longbottom. He was sure the boy was a Squib, and why no one had thrown him out yet wasn’t certain on Draco’s part. But nevertheless, he’d find that boy and make him help him. Finding Gryffindor Tower couldn’t be that hard, as he knew from Marcus Flint that it was on the seventh floor, hidden behind some obnoxious painting.

Walking up the staircases wasn’t the hard part of finding Gryffindor Tower. The hard part was getting around Prefects and teachers; he’d been seen by the Head Boy, but since he was a Slytherin, it didn’t matter much. Draco simply told him he had business to attend to and kept walking, ignoring the curious glance by Flint’s friend.

When he made it to the third floor, Draco looked at entrance way and noticed something peculiar. The girl Weasley was heading down the third floor corridor, almost as if going to see Professor Dumbledore. Draco walked through the archway, making long strides to catch up with her. The blond sped up a little more and walked directly in front of her, making the youngest Weasley gasp and step back a few paces.

“Where are you going, Weasley?” he asked, smirking a bit out of habit.

“None of your business, Malfoy,” she said, but it sounded a bit forced and nervous.

Draco’s face fell deeper into his smirk. “I don’t think Riddle would want you to talk to Dumbledore, do you?” he asked her, seeing her eyes widen. “Have you lost the diary, Weasley? Would you like your friend back?”

Before Ginny could answer, Draco pulled the small black book from his robes and handed it to her. She looked at him suspiciously, yet warily, and tried to grab for it, but Draco held it back at the last second. He had a new plan that involved someone (he hoped) was a little more knowledgeable than Longbottom.

“Give it back, Malfoy,” Weasley whispered, her hand falling back to her side.

“Read it,” said Draco, pulling out his wand with his other hand.

Ginny took the book and, with Draco’s wand threateningly out and ready to use, she opened the book and immediately froze. Draco watched suspiciously as her mouth gaped, her eyes glazed and her fingers tightened around the diary.

Draco sneered a bit, took a step backward, and continued watching as Weasley’s head rose and her sight found Draco’s. “Draco Malfoy, a pleasure,” said Weasley, only it wasn’t Ginny’s voice. This voice was the same he’d heard in Riddle’s memory; it was Riddle’s voice.

“Tom Riddle?” Draco asked, looking at Weasley while hearing his voice; it was very peculiar.

“I didn’t know you were still so young, I forget how time passes when you’re preserved as one age,” Riddle went on, shoving his diary into Ginny’s robes. “I’m glad we’ve met, however. I’ll help you find the Orb.”

Draco stepped forward, grabbing the parchment that he’d gotten from behind the stone and handing it to Riddle. “Was this planted by you? Or did someone move it?” he asked as Riddle took the parchment, reading the rhyme to himself.

“It’s been moved,” he sneered. Draco found it odd to see such expressions on the youngest Weasley.

“Well who moved it? And where’s it been moved to?”

Riddle considered this for a moment, looking at the parchment still. “Whoever moved it must have thought a Slytherin would find it. According to the books that I read while I was here, the Orb was created by Merlin and had been discovered by Ravenclaw, who was the only one smart enough to figure out what it was for,” said Riddle. “But Slytherin stole it when he found out and hid it in his part of the castle.”

Draco nodded, listening to him speak. “Is it possible that someone took it after Slytherin left Hogwarts?” he asked, looking around. But then that last part of the rhyme made sense: To give yourself what you desire, a dubious companion is what you require. “That’s it,” said Draco. Riddle looked at him. “Gryffindor took the Orb from Slytherin. ‘A dubious companion is what you require.’ It means any Slytherin looking for the Orb would need a Gryffindor to get it for them.”

A sneer formed on Riddle’s face, but he looked back toward the marble staircase. “We’ll do it now, then,” he said, walking toward the staircase. Draco followed behind him. “To get past the Gryffindors, we’ll need a story. And we’ll need time to search for the Orb; it has to be somewhere that no one would mess with it for thousands of years,” said Riddle.

“That sounds unlikely. Surely Dumbledore would have found it if none of the other Headmasters did,” muttered Draco.

Riddle seemed to ignore him. They were on the staircase, walking up toward the fifth floor before he heard Weasley speak. “In order for the Gryffindors to buy this, you’re going to have to act as naturally as possible, but still civil toward Ginny Weasley.”

He wasn’t happy about that in the slightest. “Alright,” he said, frowning. Riddle had disguised his voice; he sounded exactly as the young Weasley did. “Do you know Gryffindor’s password?” he asked, looking over at the redhead.

“We don’t need it,” said Riddle.

Not knowing exactly what that meant (after all, Gryffindors could have a pattern like the Slytherins did), Draco continued to follow along the staircase, not stopping until Riddle did outside of a portrait of an extremely obese woman. Draco felt a hand be slipped into his before they came into view.

“Password?” she asked, draping a small handkerchief along her bulging stomach.

“Excuse me, dear lady,” said Riddle in Weasley’s voice. The obese woman looked down at them. “We’ve just come from Headmaster Dumbledore’s office. He told me to bring Draco here, he has to be hidden; the students think he’s Slytherin’s heir,” he told her. Draco thought he sounded pretty convincing.

The portrait regarded him heavily. “And Dumbledore doesn’t think he is?” she asked suspiciously. Draco wanted to smirk, however he kept his face stony, if not a little pained, and let Riddle do the talking.

He heard Riddle sigh before speaking, “Professor Dumbledore knows Draco’s not the heir. That’s why we’re going to hide him here; no one would think to look for him in Gryffindor Tower.”

“But Miss Weasley –” The portrait began, but Riddle interrupted her.

“I have a letter from Professor Dumbledore. I have to show it to Professor McGonagall, but you may read it if you’d like,” he said. Riddle let go of Draco’s hand and grabbed a piece of parchment from Weasley’s robes, holding it out so the portrait could read.

After a moment, the portrait nodded and told them to keep quiet, as everyone had just retired for the night. And with that, she opened the portrait hole, allowing him and Riddle inside.

-=0=-

A/N: Harry and Draco coming up soon? Maybe! Questions/Comments? Read it? Review it!

Slashy Snitch