But Danielle refused to let herself think pessimistic thoughts, and instead focused her mind on finding a way to Hogwarts.
She wouldn't be able to take the Hogwarts Express, since it had most likely already left (she had assumed that only the year, not the date or the time, had changed, judging by the autumn leaves) and she was too young to Apparate. And it was impossible to walk…
Perhaps, if the rule about underage magic still applied, Danielle could cast a spell that would send a teacher out here to check. All the students were supposed to be on the train by now, so if they sensed magic, then they might get suspicious…
But, Danielle reminded herself, you used Accio, and nobody's come yet…
Maybe it had to be something really extreme, like one of the Unforgivable Curses. But Danielle couldn't do that. She shuddered at the very thought.
A few minutes passed while she pondered, and her eyes lit up as a thought struck her. If the teachers thought that she was in danger, maybe they would have more reason to come and get her! And what better way to suggest that one was in danger than by using the Patronus spell?
Since the end of the Second Wizarding War, it had been mandatory in the Hogwarts curriculum for students to be able to cast Patronuses. Last spring, Danielle had taken lessons with all the other fourth-years. It had taken her the better part of four months to produce something other than a faint wisp of fog, but she'd finally managed it just before she'd been tested on her ability (or lack thereof) to cast one.
Praying that it would work, Danielle raised her wand and concentrated on her happiest memory: that of finally seeing Hogwarts. Thinking of the first time she'd seen the grand castle, she cleared her throat and yelled: "Expecto Patronum!"
A sleek silver fox shot out of the tip of her wand, gamboling around her several times before disappearing into the thick forest.
Danielle waited until the silver light had faded completely before lowering her wand, feeling pleased with herself. What would the teachers say when they detected underage magic—with a Patronus, no less?
Well, all that was left to do was wait. Danielle plopped back down on the ground, concentrating only on the fact that she would be back to the present soon and everything would be all right. She wouldn't be stuck in the past forever.
A loud crack shattered the still air. Danielle instantly jumped up, her wand raised, but she immediately lowered it when she saw who had Apparated into the field.
He was perhaps a little younger than his portrait suggested. Instead of being long and white-bearded, he had short auburn hair and an even shorter beard. But his light-blue eyes and half-moon glasses were the same.
Albus Dumbledore stood in the middle of the field, staring at Danielle curiously, though there was kindness in his eyes.
Relief washed through her, and she resisted the urge to run up and hug him. Instead she choked out, "Professor Dumbledore! It's such an honor to finally meet you!"
"And I you, my dear," he said, though he looked a little confused. "Do you mind explaining yourself?"
Wordlessly, she handed him the Time-Turner.
Dumbledore examined it with interest before looking up. "When are you from?" he asked, gazing at her intently.
"2011," she admitted. "I was born in 1996."
Before she could explain any more, Dumbledore held up a hand. "Don't tell me everything. Just tell me how you came to be here."
Danielle quickly explained how she lived in the house-that-would-eventually-exist here, and how she'd found the Time-Turner in the grass and was accidentally sent back in time.
After she'd finished, Dumbledore simply surveyed her, appearing to be thinking hard. "So you're from the year 2011, and you stumbled upon this Time-Turner, by accident sending yourself back into the past?"
She nodded. "I'm Danielle Bailey."
"Albus Dumbledore," he said, holding out a hand. Danielle took it. "Though you knew that already. I won't ask how you do. Which brings me to a crucial point—do not tell me or anybody you encounter here anything about the future. Not what is currently going on, not who your parents are."
"Why not?"
"I do not want to know too much about what will happen. If you tell me, or anybody else, anything that happens, I or they might unintentionally change the future somehow, which may have potentially disastrous consequences." Dumbledore paused. "So once you realized you were in the past, you thought that if you performed a complicated spell Hogwarts would find out and send someone to fetch you, correct?"
Again, Danielle nodded.
Dumbledore smiled gently. "You appear to be a very clever young lady. But why didn't you simply send yourself forward in time? Surely you must know that Time-Turners can do that too."
"It's broken or something," Danielle said. "It didn't work when I tried."
Dumbledore pulled out his wand and pointed it at the Time-Turner, muttering something under his breath. "So it is," he said lightly. "Well, this is certainly objectionable."
"Sir—Professor—if you don't mind me asking, what's today's date?" Danielle wasn't really sure she wanted to hear the answer.
Dumbledore surveyed her over his half-moon glasses. "It is the first of September, 1942, my dear."
Danielle's blood turned ice-cold. "1942?" she choked out. "But—my parents aren't even born yet!"
Dumbledore nodded, a solemn expression crossing his face. "You are currently seventy years in your past."
Danielle struggled to digest this information. Her head began to spin, and she had to pull herself together. She would not faint. She was too strong for that.
Dumbledore put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right, Miss Bailey?"
"Yes," Danielle gasped. "I'm just a little—surprised."
Dumbledore chuckled. "I can understand. Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can probably fix this Time-Turner, though it will take me four or five months. I'm afraid you'll have to stay here until then."
She nodded, though the prospect of not seeing anyone she knew for almost half a year was almost unbearable.
"I have an idea," Dumbledore said. "You are going into your fifth year at Hogwarts, correct?"
"Yeah," Danielle replied, gesturing to her robes. "I'm a Ravenclaw."
"Prefect this year?" he asked, nodding to the brand-new badge on her blue-striped robes.
Danielle nodded proudly. Her mother had been absolutely delighted to hear the news, as she had been a Prefect as well. Then Danielle's stomach twisted at the thought of Mrs Bailey.
"I think," Dumbledore was saying, "That it would be best if you were to come back with me and stay at Hogwarts, posing as a transfer student. Hogwarts doesn't usually allow transfer students, but I'm sure Headmaster Dippet can make an exception. Does that sound agreeable?"
"Sure," Danielle said dully.
Dumbledore smiled as if he could read her thoughts. "Everything will be fine, Miss Bailey. You just have to remember not to tell anyone about your true origins."
"I won't," she promised.
"Good. If you'll grab my arm, then I shall Apparate us both to Hogwarts." Dumbledore held out his arm, and Danielle stuffed her wand back into her robes before taking it, closing her eyes. She'd never Apparated before.
"On three," Dumbledore was saying, "One…two…three!"
Danielle was suddenly jerked forward. She felt as if she were moving fast, though wind wasn't rushing past her hair. Something was squeezing, pressing in on her tightly from all sides and her ears were blocked and she couldn't see and she couldn't breathe…
Just when she couldn't bear it anymore, the sensation abruptly stopped and her feet found solid ground again. Danielle let go of Dumbledore's arm, gasping and blinking back the spots that danced in front of her eyes.
"I apologize for that," Dumbledore was saying graciously. "It can be a very unpleasant feeling."
"It is," Danielle wholeheartedly agreed. She regained her balance and her eyesight in time to see that they were standing in front of an enormous iron gate. Far up ahead, Hogwarts loomed in the distance, looking as welcoming as ever. Danielle instantly felt better.
"Shall we go?" Dumbledore suggested. He tapped the gate with his wand and it swung open. Danielle mutely followed him and the gate clanged shut again behind them.
"The other students shouldn't be arriving for a couple of hours or so," Dumbledore said as they walked up the long, winding path to the castle. "You'll have some time to get acquainted with the castle. I am not sure how much it's changed for you."
"Thank you, sir," Danielle said quietly, though she fully intended to go straight to the Ravenclaw dormitories and sleep.
She followed Dumbledore up the rest of the path and then into the castle. To her mild surprise, Hogwarts looked identical to how she remembered it, down to the very portraits on the walls. Danielle could pretend, even if for a moment, that she was back in her own time and everything was all right again.
Instead of leading her to the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore led her to a room right beside the Transfiguration classroom. Danielle was briefly surprised before she remembered that Dumbledore wasn't the Headmaster yet and he was only a professor. He had said something about a Headmaster Dippet...
The office was cozy but comfortable, with just enough room for a desk and several strange contraptions; Dumbledore was well-known for his eccentricities. A few portraits hung on the walls, though none that Danielle recognized. To her surprise, the Sorting Hat sat on the desk, looking as battered as ever.
"Why is the Sorting Hat here, sir?" she asked, sitting down on one of the chairs.
"I always take it just before the Sorting," Dumbledore said, shuffling through some of the papers on his desk. "I like to make sure everything is working properly. Armando Dippet—he's the current Headmaster—graciously allows me to perform that task." He picked up the old Hat and handed it to Danielle. "Put it on," he said, in response to her baffled look.
"But, sir, I'm in Ravenclaw!" Danielle protested.
"In 2011, you might be. But in 1942, you might be someone else entirely," Dumbledore said, being no help at all.
Danielle didn't agree at all with this view, but she grudgingly pulled the Hat down over her head.
Well, well, well, said a voice in her ear. What do we have here?
Remembering that the Hat could read minds, Danielle began to panic. Don't you dare tell anyone about me!
No need to worry. Your secret is safe with me, the Hat said. Danielle had the impression that if it could, the Hat would be smirking.
Hmm…the Hat mused. Let's see…you're set on Ravenclaw again, but I think that maybe a change might be the thing for you.
No! Ravenclaw! Do it!
The Hat ignored her. You are brave, definitely…but something tells me Gryffindor isn't the place for you. The same goes for Hufflepuff.
A terrible suspicion was beginning to form in Danielle's mind. No. No. No! You can't! Don't put me in—
"SLYTHERIN!"
Horror-struck, Danielle pulled the Hat off of her head, about to launch an angry tirade at Dumbledore. But he merely smiled at her, putting the Hat back on his desk. "See what I mean?" he asked. "Sometimes a little change is healthy."
"Not when Slytherin is involved!" Danielle argued. "Sir—please—let me try again!"
"I seriously doubt the Hat will change its decision," Dumbledore said calmly. "But don't worry, Miss Bailey, it's only for four or five months."
Danielle sulked, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Now," Dumbledore said, "It's quite unfortunate that our current Slytherin female prefect, Olive Hornby, was caught bullying a third-year, so I think that entitles you to take her place. Does that sound good to you?"
Feeling a little bit better, Danielle nodded. She'd still get to be a Prefect, and perhaps Slytherin wouldn't be so bad…
"What classes are you taking?" Dumbledore asked.
"Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Charms, Divination, Herbology, Potions, Muggle Studies, and Care of Magical Creatures." Danielle rattled off.
Dumbledore nodded. "That's interesting. You'll be the fourth Slytherin this year to take Muggle Studies—I believe that is a new record."
"Oh," said Danielle. Back in her own time, almost every Ravenclaw took it. She felt her heart contract at the thought.
Dumbledore seemed to know what she was thinking, and smiled sympathetically at her. "You'll be back to your own time soon enough, Miss Bailey."
"I hope so," Danielle mumbled.
"So, we need to think of an alias for you," Dumbledore continued. "After all, you can't go walking around as Danielle Bailey."
"Why not?" she asked, alarmed.
"We don't want anyone to get suspicious. What if, in seventy years' time, someone who met you here sees you again, a girl with the exact same name and the same looks?"
She frowned. "I see your point. But sir…if I'm not going to be Danielle Bailey, who am I going to be?"
"Hmm," said Dumbledore, stroking his auburn beard. "Who would you like to be? Any names you're particularly fond of?"
Danielle thought for a minute. "Well, I've always liked the name Clara."
"Clara it is, then," Dumbledore said, writing it down on a piece of parchment. "Last name?"
"Er…" Danielle thought. "How about Ashford?" Morgan Ashford was her favorite character in Magic after Dusk, a popular book series in her time. In the books, Morgan had been dragged to a school she didn't want to go to, and forced to comply with the rules she had no intention of following. It seemed strangely fitting for Danielle's current predicament.
"Clara Ashford," Dumbledore said. "It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
Danielle nodded.
"And we'll have your middle name being Marie, in case anyone needs to know," Dumbledore continued. "Let's figure out a story for you, then. What is your birth date?"
"April fifteenth," Danielle said.
"Excellent. So you, Clara Marie Ashford, were born on the fifteenth of April, 1927, in…we'll say Amsterdam, since we don't anyone getting too suspicious. Your parents are the half-blood witch, Marion Tanner-Ashford, and the Muggle-born, Roger Ashford. They're both Dutch and home-schooled."
"But, sir, I don't know how to speak Dutch," Danielle said. Was she going to have to take lessons?
"No matter. They never taught you. Let's see…when you were two years old your parents moved with you to London, where you grew up, hence your accent. You've attended a Muggle school up until now, but your parents have been tutoring you in magic as well. You're an only child and have no pets."
"Why would I need to know this, sir?" Danielle asked, struggling to remember all of the new information.
Dumbledore fixed her with one of his already infamous gazes. "Your story must have no loopholes, Miss Ashford. It would be too easy to figure out otherwise. And I assure you, there will be others trying to find out your true story."
Danielle wanted to ask What others? but Dumbledore had already continued. "Your parents died in an air-raid—remember, a Muggle war is being fought presently as well—on February thirteenth of this year. You've been living with your father's unmarried sister, Helga Ashford, who also lives in London, since their death. Helga sent you to Hogwarts this year, but you will not be going home for the holidays. Nobody should question you farther than that. Do you understand?"
Danielle nodded. "But, sir, what if they do question me farther than that?"
"Then tell me at once," Dumbledore said. He suddenly looked very serious. "Miss Ashford, it is crucial that you do not tell anyone a word of who you truly are. You must keep up your pretense at all times. If you do…you might not be the only one that is in danger."
Danielle nodded again, feeling a sense of foreboding. Why was Dumbledore going to such extremes to warn her?
Then, suddenly, he was warm and friendly again. "Sherbet lemon?" he offered, pointing to a jar on his desk.
Feeling it would be rude not to take one, Danielle popped one into her mouth. It fizzled her teeth, leaving a pleasant buzzing sensation on her tongue.
"Give me your sleeve," Dumbledore suddenly ordered, picking up his wand. Danielle held out her arm to him and he tapped the sleeve once. Instantly, her blue robes turned a mossy green and the eagle on her Prefect badge turned into a snake.
Resisting the urge to shudder, Danielle thanked Dumbledore and stood up. "What do I do now, sir?" she asked.
"You may go down to the Slytherin dormitories and sleep," Dumbledore said gently. "I daresay you need some."
"Where is the Slytherin common room, though, sir?"
"At the entrance to the dungeons," Dumbledore replied. "You'll see a statue of a snake. Give it the password, which is Émeraude. It will let you in. The girls' dormitories are on the staircase to the right. You have first pick of the beds."
Danielle ran her hand through her curls, forcing a smile at Dumbledore. "Thank you, sir," she said.
"You're quite welcome, Miss Ashford. Oh, and by the way, your aunt sent me your suitcase and your owl." Dumbledore's light blue eyes were twinkling.
Danielle caught on quickly. "Thank you, sir. And, er, if you don't mind me asking, who is the other Slytherin Prefect?"
All of a sudden, the twinkle went out of the professor's eyes. "His name is Tom Riddle," he said. "I imagine you will find him…interesting."
Danielle frowned. The name rung distantly in her memory, but she couldn't remember why. "Oh. Okay." She stood up and made for the door, but as her hand turned the knob Dumbledore stood up. "Miss Ashford," he said. Danielle turned around, jerking at the sound of her new name.
Dumbledore's blue eyes were infinitely serious as he walked toward her. "Two things. One, do not get too close to anyone here."
Danielle nodded; she could understand that. "I won't. And the second thing, sir?"
Dumbledore's face turned grave. "I must warn you that Tom Riddle is not what he seems. Appearances can be deceiving, Miss Ashford. Do not take Mr Riddle at face value."
"Um, sure?" Danielle said, phrasing it like a question.
Dumbledore nodded once, as if to say go. More than happy to obey, Danielle wrenched open the door and left his office, walking as fast as she could down the hallway. She could still feel Dumbledore's piercing gaze on her long after she had turned the corner.
Luckily, Danielle didn't run into anyone as she crossed the Entrance Hall and descended the steps to the dungeons. She wasn't sure how she would explain herself if she ran into any of the teachers now.
Dumbledore had been right: there was a large stone statue of a snake just beside the door. "Émeraude," Danielle said to it, and the snake slithered aside to reveal a small opening through which she crawled through to the Slytherin common room.
The room was low-ceilinged and torches with green flame burned bright on the stone walls. The carpet was thick and—of course—dark green. A magnificent fire roared in the grate and several armchairs rested in front of the fireplace. Overall, the room gave the appearance of being tucked deeply underground. Danielle felt slightly claustrophobic; she was used to the open, airy Ravenclaw Tower.
As Dumbledore had said, there were two staircases at the opposite end of the room, one leading left and one leading right. Danielle crossed the room and ran up the staircase on the right. At the top, a plain wooden door stood slightly ajar. Danielle pushed it open, wondering how Dumbledore knew where the girls' dormitories were.
Five beds were placed along the room, all covered with green bedspreads and quilts. Each bedside table had a (predictably) green lamp, proving what the House's favourite colour was beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Boy, Slytherins must really like green, Danielle thought dryly as she threw herself onto the bed closest to the door. This way, if the girls tried to curse her, she could get to the door quickly.
She rolled over—the bed was comfortable, she gave it that—and spotted a large suitcase lying on the floor. How did it know what bed she chose? Danielle flipped open the clasps to see her uniform and some ordinary Muggle clothes tucked underneath it. Dumbledore doesn't miss a thing, does he?.
An owl cage was open on the bedside table, but it was empty. Danielle wondered how the owl had flown out when they were obviously underground, but she squinted at the opposite wall and saw a window, just wide enough for an animal to squeeze through. There must be a hidden tunnel that connected the dormitory with the outside world.
Danielle stretched and yawned, curling up on the bed. She was tired, but she wasn't sure if she could sleep…What if she slept through the feast?
I'll just sleep for ten minutes or so, she decided, closing her eyes and letting the exhaustion take her.