Every Good Turn Deserves Another

Every Good Turn Deserves Another

Prologue

Deep in the ruins of former greatness, the Death Eater with the small mirror shaking in his gloved hand approached the statue of Salazar Slytherin in a manner of assumed reverence...just in case He was watching, which He always was in the back of Draco Malfoy's mind. Tonight's events were of utmost importance so He was watching ever so closely, ready to snap his nerves, and the mirror wouldn't stop shaking as the tremors flowed down his spine incessantly. The small bit of light that lurked in the Chamber of Secrets caught and danced everywhere, and he muttered darkly. It was winter, yule, and he was absolutely frigid. The Chamber was ice, but his lord had demanded this of him...

The shivering figure knelt down, pale hairs coming down in front of his face, and took a small, ragged book reverently out of his cloak, all the while talking to himself, breath forming mist.

"W-wh-what was it, let's s-see, if I place the f-feather here, t-there, no, the s-scale, just righ-ht..."

This teeth-chattering banter went on until Draco was positive there was no possible way for error. There could be no room for error because if it occurred so, there would be no room for him.

"G-got to c-catch the sh-shadows..."

The goal was to gather the shadows with the mirror, make the small, curse-driven light direct off the basilisk scale, and place it on top of the book to form the focal point. Then there was the small matter of blood...he grimaced...and ink dried into the stones. He had to be very careful to the point of perfection; the mirror was the vital, difficult part of the whole process, but if he succeeded, it would be done. Draco grinned maliciously. He loved being a part of this tonight because it would relieve his frustrations immensely.

The Dark Lord had plans for his former self but no all in that said self's favor...not at all...

This was his opportunity to manipulate the shadow of his lord under the role of simply following orders. Then there was Dumbledore and Potter...

If all goes well, Dumbledore's and Potter's lives should be properly extinguished, snuffed out in his presence. He would witness the final breaths, and he chuckled raggedly. So much for Potter...

He battled with the mirror for a good two hours, cursing and snarling. Then, finally, it happened. The mirror caught the shadows like a dark dream-catcher while the poisonous green scale caught the small, black flame produced by the Angori Animi spell. He hissed in pleasure.

The wispy boy brought out a sheathed dagger that was elaborately designed with the Malfoy seal of the Eternal Dragon and drug it across his palm. He hissed in pain. He watched morbidly as the drops of blood hit the page on top of the scale, turning it red. The mirror watched also on its Levitation Spell, and He watched as well. They watched as a figure bloomed from the page, sprouting instant height.

Draco fell back in awe as the inky tendrils intertwined and darted across each other to form a boy of equal darkness. For a moment, he was very frightened. The tall boy stood frozen, his face in a terrible blankness, and Draco's mind sprouted horrible thoughts about errors and fatal mistakes. Then he came into motion, and Draco literally fell over himself, clawing, crawling, and slipping on the wet stones in his haste.

For the boy seemed to be caught in time at first...then time broke, and his eyes blazed with unholy un-forgiveness.

"POTTER!" His voice seethed and the darkness withered, poisonous and ready.

Then his gaze fell heavily upon Malfoy who mouthed wildly, clutching the mirror to his chest. For his lord had said the mirror would contain some parts of his soul...use it to control him...save it for the process...

Draco's body rocked back and forth as he struggled to regain himself. Riddle stepped closer, and Draco's heart stopped as what looked like a dagger was forming in the shadows that the moon pale boy clutched.

"W-w-wait...h-hold, hal-er-STOP! STOP!!! I AM WITH YOU! L-LOOK! I BEAR YOUR MARK!!!"

Draco almost slipped again as he battled to get in a kneeling position while holding out his left arm in supplication. He kept his hold on the mirror and his eyes down, watching the figure's reflection in the water. The reflection tilted his head, and to his immense relieve, the dagger evaporated.

Silence...

Draco looked up, wide eyed. The boy smirked lightly but not at him. He was gazing past him in amusement; Draco's eyes traced the water for clues, and he glimpsed the massive, yellow skeleton of the Basilisk.

"So...I did come back." His voice echoed around the grave, murmuring, and Draco nodded quickly. "I knew...that boy, that nothing of a boy, couldn't defeat me...in the end."

He chucked darkly, and Draco's hold increased ten-fold on the mirror.

"What of this then?"

Draco tried to decipher the question but to his dismay, could not.

"My l-lord?" he stuttered meekly, still eying the shadows that danced around those long hands.

"Why am...I to be brought back now?" The boy whispered carelessly, circling the kneeling figure arrogantly. But Draco heard the laced sharpness and distrust on each word, and his heart pounded in his head.

"My lo-!" It occurred to him that he didn't know how to address the two of them separately. He cringed.

"Speak up!"

The command was so sharp and sudden that it pierced him like a thousand, hot coals, and he almost yelped.

"Thereisneedofyou!" he burst out, his tongue seeming not to work properly. The shadows gathered around him, and he felt the coldness that radiated from the figure he couldn't see.

Draco waited on a cliff, ready to fall into the abyss.

"And...you'll have to be more specific." Disgust...now came from Riddle but that was good! Draco gritted his teeth despite his efforts not to snarl.

Yes, underestimate me! You'll see...who holds the key to your existence!!

"Yes, I am sorry. Our efforts need your assistance. The Dark Lord..." he hesitated then plowed on, feeling like a Gryffindor. "Dumbledore and Potter have both proven to be most difficult, and the Dark Lord recognizes that only...you have the abilities to kill them both, a feat which all others fail."

Draco wanted to laugh. And the Dark Lord says...I can't do a bloody thing, or am simply too petrified of Dumbledore...so surely the younger me can! It made no sense, and now that the words were out of his mouth, he wished he could call them back. He wasn't sure how the younger version of his Master would take the news that he was brought back to be a...servant of sorts...a minion. Interesting indeed...

But that wasn't the real reason...it was true that Draco was commanded to assist Riddle in killing Dumbledore this very night. Yet what the Dark Lord really desired was Riddle's powers in order to break his bond with Potter...and mortality. Very interesting...

Draco waited with a bated breath, listening hard in the silence that was overwhelming. He was ready to scream or run to be able to break that damned silence.

"I see..." With all his skills, Draco tried to read that voice, to obtain the undercurrents but was at a loss. Just emptiness...a fleeting moment of reflection lost in the wind...nothing at all. It made him uneasy.

"Er...He mentioned a certain spell that he said you'd know...the one you always imagined casting on Dumbledore..."

Draco turned around to look and gasped at how close Riddle was who looked eerily down at him with distaste written around his mouth and murder in his eyes. Draco froze.

"And you...what is your name?" Riddle asked in the attitude of one that didn't really care...but Draco knew the consequences of a wrong answer.

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

Out of habit, Draco always gave his last name first because he was proud of his heritage. His unease flowed through his entire being as a murky, indiscernible look passed across Riddle's eyes. He didn't know much, but he did know the look was not pleasant.

"Malfoy, eh...you must be Octavius's grandson."

"Yes..." Draco was still floundering on how to address Riddle so he merely kept his gaze down.

"Well, Malfoy, Dumbledore dies tonight."

Draco was knocked back by the joviality of the tone that was very unnatural for a form of the Dark Lord. It was like they were good mates or something; Draco had seen that look. Basically he knew he was heavily despised. He wanted to like Riddle though...even if Riddle was going to die. He had liked the way Riddle addressed death like it was a game of Quidditch...especially in Dumbledore's case. Lord Voldemort would never have done so.

Draco rose hesitantly but hurried after Riddle who had turned abruptly and started making his way to the entrance of the Chamber. He eyed the boy's torn robes in distaste and hated following someone with lower blood. Voldemort was different; he had cleansed himself. This boy still had tainted blood; the Dark Lord even reviled him. Draco sneered at his back, and Riddle turned around to smile at him. Draco skidded to a halt.

"Is there something you want to say, Malfoy?" Double-edged sword pointed at his jugular.

Malfoy frantically shook his head, attitude punctured by the silent threat. How had he...

"Didn't think so..."

Then Riddle motioned for Malfoy to hand him the mirror. This time Malfoy's heart really did stop, and he gripped the mirror in a death clutch.

"W-what do you want?"

"The mirror...that mirror in your hand..." The words assaulted his nerves and frayed them into pieces.

"Er-um-why? It's just an old mirror, and I'd rather just...sentimental value! Yes, it belonged to-."

"Spare me. I'm not interested in its history, Malfoy, or give a damn who it belonged to. Hand it over. Its purpose has been served for now, and I need it to steal the life out of that Muggle-lover. "

The voice had taken on that cold voice, the voice of his master that hissed in his head, and Draco stepped back and...handed over the mirror.

"How will it help-!" Draco stopped in mid-sentence.

Riddle turned abruptly and hissed something at his reflection. In response, a great hissing arose from all around! Every stone, the statue, everything! Draco covered his ears, images of poison wrapping around his brain, and he fell, his legs haven weakened.

A dark light bloomed from the surface and ran along the wall until it hit a stone. It then illuminated an opening near the feet of Slytherin.

Riddle smirked at Draco's confusion.

"My ancestor who you see there...despised Gryffindor. The Headmaster's quarters used to be Godric Gryffindor's chambers, and needless to say, his grave...just when the fool had thought Slytherin had abandoned the school to him." Riddle's eyes glazed over in glee and Draco shuddered, images of the founder of Gryffindor lying dead over his desk with a sword in his back flooding his vision.

"You have no idea...how many times I myself had stood by that entry, ready to cut off his breath. But, alas, I never did and cursed the lost chances. Now...it seems I have a window of opportunity."

Draco remained silent, pondering Riddle's admission. He could see him quite clearly in the gloom from the past as if the time had crossed over to join them, as the stones had stained with lasting corruption and obsessive habit. He could see Riddle leaning by that entry, entranced, quite easily...and he followed him through the passage. Both Slytherins gazed yearningly at the light that seeped under the hidden door where the headmaster was.

Draco reached his hand out to open the door thoughtlessly, but Riddle knocked his hand away, glaring poison.

Draco was indignant.

"Aren't we going to go-!" Riddle cupped his hand over Malfoy's mouth roughly.

Draco met his eyes in a silent battle; Dumbledore couldn't have heard him. He was whispering! Then Draco hissed in pain. Riddle had drawn the dagger with the Malfoy seal quietly and subtly from his cloak pocket, and he stabbed the older boy's arm. Malfoy was stunned, eyes blank, and all he felt was his own blood running down his arm.

Then he was repulsed as Riddle roughly placed his bleeding hand on the mirror and allowed the blood to gather. Riddle never broken eye-contact, challenging him.

Draco studied the younger boy in the darkness, and in his haze of pain and hatred, he saw Potter in him. He felt like spitting in Riddle's face but held off, refusing to show anything. The two were heavily trapped in the ritual, and Riddle's face was burned in the quicksilver eyes. Draco silently swore he would get Riddle back for this, and Riddle knew his thought and sneered, teeth glinting madly in the dark. Draco had his first epiphany; Riddle fed off hatred...kind of like him.

Riddle withdrew slightly, dagger and bloody mirror in hand.

Then Voldemort came, creeping into Draco's mind; the darkness that lurked in the back uncurled and journeyed upwards to survey the happenings.

He stabbed me, cut me, slashed me, my blood on the mirror, has mirror, what...

Do nothing...

Draco obeyed. He watched.

A huge grin spread over the Dark Lord's shadow; Riddle began to hiss slightly, shadows gathering again around the mirror.

Draco fumed.

Oh, for...Like Dumb Door can hear my whispering but can't hear that then-

The darkness attacked him, fraying his threads, metal in his veins, and Draco caught a howl of pain. He endured in silence.

And marveled when a dark serpent of blood and ink came from the mirror and oozed onto the cold stone in the passage way. All present looked down to watch the silent bringer of death slip under the door.

~~~

Harry Potter awoke from his uncomfortable position; he had fallen asleep doing Potions homework when he laid down his aching head on the cool table to take a little break. His neck burned, and he rubbed it sourly.

Of course he was the only one except Hermione still taking Potions in the Gryffindor house. To his unpleasant surprise, he did better than he had expected to on his Potion O.W.L. It was like a bloody nightmare.

He had gone to McGonagall the first week of his sixth year, casually stating that he didn't want to have another thing to do with Potions.

She would have none of it, praising him for his remarkable score...Snape had something to do with it, he was sure. Snape just had to keep tormenting him, rubbing his wounds with acid.

Harry stuck the table in frustration. It was his seventh year now, and he was up till three in the morning with the Common Room deserted except for the small, red-headed figure on the couch.

With a grin, Harry got up quietly and snuck over to his...he wasn't quite sure.

Harry knelt down and placed his chin on the couch, willingly her to wake up. When she didn't stir, he traced her features lightly, and she pressed her face against his palm, smiling mischievously in her sleep.

He bit his lip in concern. He knew...that they had gone too far to be just friends, but he...didn't want her to get hurt because of him. She murmured lightly, but he couldn't catch her words. Something tugged heavily at his heart, something he hadn't felt before. His eyes ran across the image of her, thick red hair and china skin, and he shuddered. Shaking his head of uninhibited thoughts, he rose wearily to his feet, brushing a hand back through his dark mess of hair.

He gazed at the scar on his hand, eyes burning at the memory...I will not tell lies...

Harry slumped over by the desk once more, determined to tell her in the morning that it simply wasn't going to work. By chance, he glanced at the Marauder's Map that was lying by his mass of scribbled paperwork. It always amused him to other students frantically studying and first years roaming the halls. Something was...

He rubbed his eyes quickly and squinted down at the paper that had never told a lie.

There, written forebodingly in ink, was Riddle and Malfoy...outside Dumbledore's room!

~~~

Draco rubbed his throbbing arm in resentment, shoulder pounding. Voldemort now studied Riddle's back with a dark disgust.

He has served his purpose...Stun him and bring him to me...

My lord...the mirror...

Draco was engulfed, and someone else stood behind his eyes. He felt it sliding down into his arms and grasping his wand firmly. He watched eagerly as his hand pointed the wand at Riddle.

Sensing a change, the boy spun around in alarm. Too slow, bastard...

"Stupefy!" Draco loved it, the look on Riddle's face. The Dark Lord's voice had bled into his won, and Riddle had heard his future self.

The dirty half-blood was thrown back by the curse, the mirror falling away and clattering somewhere overhead.

Draco, back fully, approached the figure confidently, gaining such pleasure for the sight he was in euphoria. This was far better than killing Muggles!

He stood over the dark-headed boy, imagining it was Potter instead. Yes, Potter would look something like...Draco wondered if his lord would mind too terribly if he cast the Cruciatus Curse on Riddle, just to see his agony.

"MALFOY!" POTTER?!

Draco almost dropped his wand in shock as his hand went limp. Standing at the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets was Harry Potter who was unfortunately not a figment of his imagination. He froze. How on earth had Potter...

"I saw you...you bastards. I...have had enough...of you hurting everyone in my life. YOU'RE GOING TO PAY FOR THIS!"

The Boy-Who-Lived was red with anger, his face quite contorted, and Draco was, in turn, quite surprised. Then the Dark Lord took away his fear and his control.

"So, Potter, you know that I have killed Dumbledore."

Harry only shook in rage, tears running down his face.

"I'm sure you are eager to join him."

Draco wondered mindlessly why it was such a short banter between the two.

Then the explosion of curses drew his musings away as he lay buried underneath himself, watching indifferently.

He was doing quite well, Potter was. But the Dark Lord was infinitely better...

Potter would throw a curse, only to have it rebounded back at him. Such was the side-effects of fighting in another's body...such a useful discovery. It appeared that a curse meant for another was not a successful against his barrier. It seemed only seconds that Potter was down on the ground, struggling to rise but not succeeding.

Oh well...

Draco enjoyed it, being intertwined and entertained. Quite brilliant...

Soon he got a good look at Potter as his foot somehow ended up on his hand, knocking the wand away. Then the said foot was on his neck, bearing down. It seemed that Potter would lose for good.

Draco screamed as something pierced him, and he gazed down at his chest in horror. Something dark...was it...

Riddle leaned up behind him, hissing a threat at another, and Draco only felt unraveled, something fleeing in his mind. He was soon alone on the floor, staring blindly up at the tall boy who loomed over him.

Riddle only smirked, deciding that he was not worth speaking to, and extended his hand full of shadows right in front of his face. Draco heard speeding death.

Then Riddle dodged a curse that came from where Potter was, grabbing Draco's dropped wand, and it started again. Draco sank closer to the floor, clutching his chest, struggling not to sink into that darkness. Damn them both...

He felt his blood once more down his chin, and he glared at the two so similar yet worlds apart. Trying to rip each other apart...Riddle and Potter didn't look that different really. Both snarling, cursing, darkness growing in their eyes...Malfoy could have sworn Potter's eyes were red too. So...the light of their curses reflected on something. The mirror...

He crawled unnoticed towards it as debris fell from the nearly ruined ceiling. Hard to breath...he choked on his own blood and his nerves burned and twisted...then it stopped burning. He was growing...colder than before. He gripped the mirror in rage and threw it over in the direction of the shouting and boiling threats. He had tried to pull out his portkey, but it fell away.

Before he sunk into darkness, he heard a beautiful silence, and he grinned.

See...I told you I'd get you back...

~~~

Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger entered the Chamber exactly fifteen minutes after Draco Malfoy breathed for his last time. They had seen the Map, and it had led them down into the depths of this seeming hell. Harry had gone alone again...but had left the secret entrance to the Chamber open.

"HARRY!"

"HARRY, MATE, WHERE ARE-"

Ron stumbled over someone with black hair and hit the floor hard. The two girls rushed over...Hermione stopped in dread, but Ginny raced forward to the fallen figure then screamed.

"N-n-no..." she whispered, backing away frantically.

"Is it-"

"IT'S RIDDLE!"

Ron leapt away like he was burned, eying the body in disgust.

Then they heard someone moved behind them, groaning. Harry Potter was climbing to his feet, holding his head, cursing.

Ginny raced towards him with her arms open and embraced the startled boy.

"YOU'RE ALIVE, I WAS SO SCARED, I-"

She gasped as Harry threw her off him violently while backing away with poison quickly fermenting in his gaze at the sight of her.

"Harry, are you okay? Why did you come down here alone?" Hermione came closer, reaching out for him, but again he backed away, looking very confused now.

"What happened? How did he get back here?" Ron pointed disgustedly towards Riddle's body. Harry's face had gone completely blank, and he clutched his head again, falling to the ground. They approached cautiously, and he gaped up at them, eyes wild.

Then Riddle rose from the ground.

"BLOODY-" Ron pointed his wand at Riddle. "STAY DEAD, WHY DON'T YOU?!"

"WE-WE WON'T LET YOU HURT HARRY!"

The three stepped in front of the figure of Harry Potter, wands aimed as one towards their foe who looked quite...

Harry Potter gazed through the eyes of the one he hated most and gaped at the sight before him. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione were protecting him...for himself?! What...

Then he saw...himself, eyes with dawning realization at what had taken place...

Harry felt a thrill of horror unlike any he had ever had before...because he was trapped in Tom Riddle's body and about to be massacred by his friends.