To Danielle's extreme surprise, September went by in the blink of an eye. She had expected her time in the past to drag on and on, but it seemed as if it was October before she knew it.

Her first month at 1940's Hogwarts had gone by as smoothly as could be hoped for. To be honest, there were those first few weeks where Danielle had had awful nightmares about never getting back to the present and seeing her family again. But those had eventually stopped after she had woken up screaming for the fifth time and Olive Hornby had yelled at her. The image of Olive at four o'clock in the morning without her makeup had been enough to render Danielle stoic for the rest of her life.

Classes were challenging and the only way Danielle could escape from reality for a few hours. She had ultimately decided playing dumb wouldn't get her anywhere and she soon rocketed to the top of all her classes, thus making her the second best in her year. The first, of course, was Tom Riddle. He didn't question her newfound intelligence, though, so Danielle figured she was safe for now.

Speaking of Tom Riddle, he seemed to grow more mysterious every day. Sometimes he was cool and indifferent; others he was warm and friendly. Danielle inspected him carefully, but could not find a trigger for these mood changes. And she had to admit, she was even sucked in by his charisma from time to time, no matter how much she told herself he was an idiot. Danielle had always prided herself on being a good judge of character, but Tom Riddle stumped them all. And this really aggravated her.

No more had been said about their supposed "date" in Hogsmeade. Danielle wondered if he had forgotten about it, then she wondered why she hadn't forgotten about it. They went about their Prefect duties normally, speaking only occasionally. Danielle was careful to act "Clara Ashford-y" around him at all times.

Another part of this era she strongly disliked was Olive Hornby. Bully of anyone younger and in a different House than herself, Olive had two goals in life: Torment Myrtle Pratt and get Tom Riddle. Unfortunately, the latter plan didn't seem to be working, which made Olive more snappish and irritating than usual.

But with Riddle, Olive and homesickness aside, life here was looking up. Danielle, Alyssa and Dylan soon became fast friends and nearly inseparable. (Except for the times the twins fought when Danielle wasn't there. She caught them more than once having a heated discussion and instantly stopping once she arrived.)

Myrtle was another unanticipated pro. Danielle had expected the third-year to follow her around like a lovesick puppy, but surprisingly Myrtle kept her distance and Danielle came to her rescue whenever she needed it. She also helped the Ravenclaw with her studies for an hour every Sunday.

Professor Dumbledore was another great help to have. It made Danielle feel better, knowing that the greatest wizard of the age was in the same castle as her. If anyone could fix the Time-Turner, it was him. (He'd also grown to be Danielle's favorite teacher out of both times she'd been to Hogwarts.)

At the end of September, Dumbledore called Danielle down to his office. For a split second, Danielle thought it was because he had fixed the Time-Turner early and she could go back to 2011, but alas, when she stepped inside his office it was nowhere in sight.

"Good evening, my dear," Dumbledore said warmly as she looked nervously around his office. "Why don't you have a seat?"

Danielle nodded meekly and collapsed down into one of the chairs beside his desk. Her eyes fell on the tattered old Sorting Hat, sitting on the table, and she had a sudden idea.

"Professor," she asked before Dumbledore could speak, "Do you think I could try on the Sorting Hat one more time? Just to see what it says?"

The Transfiguration professor looked mildly surprised. "Of course, Miss Ashford, but you must realize it is too late to change your House now."

Danielle nodded. "I know, sir. I just wanted to ask it a few questions."

The familiar twinkle alighted in Dumbledore's eyes. "Certainly, then," he said. "We all have our questions about why the Sorting Hat placed us where." As he spoke, he plucked the Hat from its resting place and handed it to Danielle. With some trepidation, she placed it on her head for the third time in her life.

Ah—back again, I see, the Hat said. You are wondering why I put you in Slytherin rather than Ravenclaw.

Yes, Danielle thought.

The Hat was silent for a few moments, then, Well, I think you know the answer yourself already.

Funny. You'd think if I knew the answer already I wouldn't have come to you. Danielle couldn't help the sarcastic edge to her thoughts.

I'll prompt you, then. She could almost hear the Hat's deep breath. Two words.

Yes?

Clara. Ashford. And then it was silent.

What—Danielle sent volumes of verbal abuse at it, but the Sorting Hat appeared to be "asleep."

She ripped the frayed hat off of her head, staring daggers at its brim.

"I take it that didn't bode well?" Dumbledore asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"Not at all," Danielle growled. She half-hoped for Dumbledore to ask what had happened, but he instead silently put the Hat back and sat down in his chair, surveying Danielle over the tips of his fingers.

"You seem to be faring quite well, Miss Ashford," the professor said evenly. "I must say, I admire you. I'm not sure I would have done nearly as well if I was in your position."

"Thanks," said Danielle, though she knew he was just flattering her.

"You seem to be quite close to Mr MacDougal," Dumbledore said, out of the blue.

"He's my friend, sir. So is Alyssa. Don't worry—" Danielle said hurriedly, "I haven't gotten too close to them." This was a lie, but if it meant going back to the present…

"Oh, that's not what I meant," he said serenely. "Simple friendship is probably one of the most valuable things on earth. No, what I mean is romantic inclinations."

Danielle could only stare at him for a second. "Dylan, er, Mr MacDougal and I are just friends, sir. I don't have any romantic inclinations toward him—or anyone."

Dumbledore smiled. "I'm not preventing you from any relationships, Miss Ashford. I just don't want you to get too close to anyone, or even fall in love. Think of what would happen! You wouldn't want to go back to the future when the time arrived."

"I suppose you're right, sir. But everything's fine. I'm not going to fall in love with anyone." Danielle didn't feel it wise to add "Why would I want to fall in love with anyone here?"

Dumbledore's face turned grave. "I know you must think me a silly man, asking you for such foolish demands as this. But I believe it would be best for everyone concerned if you didn't. Time travel is a very delicate thing, Miss Ashford. Every minute you spend here is dangerous."

Danielle nodded. Thanks for that uplifting talk.

"But on a happier note, I have made progress in finishing your Time-Turner." Dumbledore reached into the pocket of his midnight-blue robes and pulled out the dastardly object that had gotten Danielle into this whole mess in the first place.

"If you don't mind me asking, Professor, what exactly happened to make it break?" Danielle asked.

"Ah, on the contrary, I'm glad you asked me that." Dumbledore stared at the golden hour-glass. "You see, when you turned the knob all the way back, it broke the springs inside. Normally, anyone could just fix this with a simple Reparo spell, but since this is a Time-Turner it will need to be repaired with more complicated spells." He paused, looking thoughtful. "It's a shame the Ministry keeps their Time-Turners under such supervision. Even I wouldn't be able to get one."

"But this one will be finished by February or March, then?"

"I sincerely hope so," said Dumbledore, then added, "Not that I wouldn't regret you leaving."

Danielle smiled wryly and then yawned hugely.

"I'm sorry," Dumbledore immediately apologized. "It's getting late and you have that essay due in Transfiguration tomorrow. Have you finished it?"

The fifteen-year-old stood up and bit her lip. "Yeah," she lied.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily. "That's good to hear. You know, you and Mr Riddle compete for my best students this year."

As always, Danielle's eyes narrowed at the mention of Riddle.

"Is there anything wrong, Miss Ashford?" Dumbledore asked. Nothing escaped his notice.

"Nothing, Professor. I just hate Riddle, that's all." Danielle made for the door.

Dumbledore chuckled. "I take it you and young Mr Riddle got off on the wrong foot?"

"Not really, sir. We just don't get along. He's too…self-centered for me." Danielle gritted her teeth.

"I told you to be careful of him," said Dumbledore, though his tone was almost teasing.

"I'd enjoy being a Prefect if it wasn't for him," said Danielle. She paused with her hand on the doorknob. "Oh, and sir, can you mention to him that I said that?"

"I certainly shall," said the old wizard, perfectly serious now.

"Thank you," said Danielle. Just as she was about to leave, Dumbledore spoke up.

"I don't mean to rub salt in your wounds, Miss Ashford, but Mr Riddle seems to have taken an odd interest in you."

"W-What?"

Dumbledore now looked apologetic. "He seems to be watching your every move like a hawk. It's almost like he's examining you."

Oh Merlin. "Er…that's just because he's a stalker, Professor Dumbledore." And with that, Danielle ran as fast as she could out of the room.

Once she was safely outside, she relaxed. She was perfectly aware that Riddle was often watching her; as Alyssa and Dylan hadn't neglected to mention. There had been more than one occasion where she had felt his penetrating gaze on her, probably trying to figure out her innermost secrets. Danielle knew she was a conundrum to him; a mystery. Hating him for no reason, then acting like a lovesick fool. Appearing mysteriously out of thin air with no parents. Asking him out boldly then not telling anyone. And she was sure the cherry on top of the cake was that she was one of the best in the class, despite acting like a superficial idiot. Yes, it was completely understandable he was trying to read her mind. But she wasn't about to let him.

Riddle can speculate all he wants, but he'll never guess the truth, Danielle thought defiantly as she headed back to her dormitory, forgetting about her other worries.

She continued thinking in this fashion until she had herself almost convinced it would come true. Smirking faintly, she was about to descend the staircase to the dungeons when she heard hushed voices in the room next to her.

Normally, she would have paid this no attention. But she stopped when she heard an unpleasantly familiar voice.

"…understand me, Nott. I have come close to discovering the Chamber of Secrets."

Danielle stifled a gasp and glanced furtively around her before pressing her ear against the door.

"What do you mean?" another voice piped up.

"Were you not listening, Macnair?" Tom Riddle said coolly. "I am sure I know where the Chamber of Secrets is. I have been searching for it ever since I arrived at this school. It is only a matter of time before I open it, and I shall unleash the monster within."

There were a number of shocked murmurs from inside the room.

"By this time next year, Hogwarts will be rid of Mudbloods and anyone less than pure. It is time for Salazar Slytherin's dream to come true." Riddle sounded very pleased with himself.

"Where do you think the Chamber is, Tom?" This was Abraxas Malfoy.

"That is for me, and me alone, to know." Riddle spoke with a peculiar amount of power, yet it wasn't haughty.

"When will you open it?" An unfamiliar voice.

"First I will have to open the Chamber, and tame the monster inside. This should not take long with my…gift." Danielle could picture his characteristic smirk. "Then I shall have the monster kill one or two Mudbloods, to demonstrate that I am serious. After that, we will overthrow Hogwarts and perform one last essential task."

"Essential task?" The person named Macnair spoke.

"Kill Albus Dumbledore." Riddle's voice held pure venom.

There was a long pause. Apparently the group was trying to digest this new information.

"I will save that chore for myself, though," said Riddle. "If anyone else does it, be warned you will suffer my extreme…disapproval."

"We would never disobey your orders, Tom." Abraxas Malfoy said sincerely. There were similar murmurs of assent.

"And one last thing, before you leave," Riddle said. "Very soon, you will not need to call me by the name 'Tom' anymore."

"What will it be instead?"

"I will tell you that when it is time." There was a silent note of dismissal in Riddle's tone. Footsteps began walking toward the door.

Whenever she looked back on it, Danielle never figured out exactly how she managed to get back to the Slytherin common room. But somehow she managed to force her frozen legs to walk down to the tapestry, utter the password, and stumble up the stairs to her dormitory where she walked into the bathroom and promptly vomited.

Once she was finished, Danielle collapsed against the toilet and rested her head against the cool porcelain, trying to think straight.

Her instincts had been right: Tom Riddle was dangerous. But this wasn't the breaker-of-girls-hearts dangerous Danielle had primarily thought. This was dangerous in a murderer kind of way. Riddle was planning to kill. Had he already murdered before? The thought made Danielle want to vomit again.

And he was planning to open the Chamber of Secrets later this year. Danielle vaguely remembered reading a passage from her History of Magic textbook when still in the present. The Chamber had only been opened twice in Hogwarts history: once in 1992 and once…in…1943.

Danielle's heart kick-started as she began to put the pieces of the puzzle together. She had learned that someone—the professors in the future had never mentioned specifically who—had opened the Chamber in May 1943. That was when Myrtle (Danielle's stomach clenched painfully again) had died. She had been killed by the Basilisk, which was obviously the monster Riddle had been talking about tonight.

But as far as Danielle knew, Myrtle had been the only one killed. A student had wrongly blamed Rubeus Hagrid for opening the chamber. Hagrid had been expelled, and then the attacks had stopped.

Could Riddle possibly be the person who had opened the Chamber of Secrets? Danielle wouldn't put it past him now, judging by his tone earlier.

Yet there was one thing he wouldn't get away with: and that was killing Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore wouldn't die until 1997, and then he would have been killed by Severus Snape. At least that part of Riddle's plan would fail.

You have to tell Dumbledore what you just heard, a little voice in Danielle's brain said. He can stop Riddle from opening the Chamber altogether—

No! You can't change the future. Has it ever occurred to you that this was supposed to happen? You'd be doing the opposite of what Dumbledore told you to do if you give him any information about the future, a second voice said.

But if helped save Myrtle's life, and Hagrid's school career…

Danielle sat there, torn. Should she or shouldn't she tell?

In the end, however, she finally decided not to. It would only unnecessarily complicate things, and as much as she'd like to save Myrtle and Hagrid, it wouldn't be right. Danielle should just sit back and let fate take its course...as much as she hated doing it.

It was well past nine o'clock when Danielle finally glanced at her watch. She would be late for Prefect duty…and Riddle.

She would have to face him. Be brave, Danielle, she told herself. Be Clara.

And that was when she understood what the Sorting Hat had been trying to say.

It had put her in Slytherin because she was Clara Ashford, not Danielle Bailey. Clara was flirtatious, shallow and not afraid of anything. Danielle was introverted, kind and would never do anything that would hurt anybody else.

Here, in the past, she wasn't Danielle Bailey. She was Clara Ashford. And Clara wasn't a Ravenclaw, however smart she may be. She was cunning, manipulative and cruel.

She was a Slytherin.

Danielle took a deep, shaky breath and stood up, walking soundlessly through her dormitory and down the winding staircase. You're not Danielle Bailey anymore, she told herself. You're Clara Ashford.

She repeated this mantra over and over in her head as she crossed the Slytherin common room and stepped out into the shadowy hallway, where she recognized a tall, thin figure waiting for her at the end of the corridor.

Balling her hands into fists, she banished all thoughts of recent events out of her mind and walked right into the face of peril.


Tom Riddle waited, ever so patiently, in the doorway of the classroom he had recently vacated. Ashford was late tonight, but no matter. He had had more time to speak to his…friends, if you could call them that. Tom felt no fondness towards any of them; they were simply tools, disposable people that would only aid him in becoming powerful. And no doubt they would be disposed of, as soon as they were no longer useful.

But Tom had to admit, their reactions tonight had been quite comical. The second as they had learned that he had discovered the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, they had acted differently towards him. Scared, almost. Tom was pleased with that…very pleased. They would soon learn their place.

Everything was going the way he planned. This spring, he would open the Chamber. He would just have to be patient for a while longer. Tom was fine with that. Impatience was of no use to him. Impatient people usually had a short temper and thus that made them weak. Yes, never-ending patience and lack of temper were a virtue.

Speaking of waiting for people, Ashford was late now…very late, in fact. She had never been late for Prefect duty before. Something must have happened. Hmmm…maybe that dunderhead MacDougal had cornered her to reveal her true feelings? Tom smirked. The boy had been harboring affection for the new girl ever since she had arrived at Hogwarts. Even his annoying twin had noticed; in fact, everyone knew except for Ashford herself.

Strange, how someone that smart doesn't notice what is going on right over her overlarge nose, Tom thought sardonically. He was…bothered that Ashford had managed to become the second best in her classes. She must be getting her answers from one of the teachers, because no one with that amount of empty space in the head could possibly achieve the marks that she had.

It was a childish thing, but Tom expected to beat her in O.W.L.s at the end of the year. He would have to make sure she wasn't getting any help, which should be easy. He was Tom Riddle, after all. Fifteen years old and he had already mastered the art of Legilimency! Delving into the teachers' minds and seeing who was helping her should be easy.

It was regrettable that he could not read Ashford's own mind, however. Though her mental shields had been weak at first, they had now grown so strong as to rival Tom's. But he wasn't angry about it. Rage was for men lesser than he. There would be a different way to learn all of Ashford's secrets. That was why he had agreed to go to Hogsmeade with her.

He also needed to find out what she truly thought of him. At first, Tom had thought she was acting. But to his displeasure, after a while even he wasn't sure what her true personality was. Currently he was thinking it might be a case of multiple personalities. That would certainly make the most sense.

The answers would be easy enough to find out. Tom was counting on Ashford being so enamored that she would eventually tell him all he wanted to hear. It was all just a matter of time…and patience.

And, if Tom's plans somehow failed to work, it wouldn't really matter or hinder him in any way. He wanted to read Ashford's mind to see what secrets she contained (and she had to be keeping some, or else why would she be closing her mind in the first place?) and if she would be useful in his plans. Dumbledore might suspect him once he opened the Chamber and set the Basilisk on the Mudbloods, but the old fool would never suspect his pet Ashford. The two seemed to have a close bond for unknown reasons. It was similar to Dumbledore's relationship with Minerva McGonagall in Gryffindor. A lot of the students suspected that association was something more than just teacher and student. Tom smirked again. That was undeniably the reason McGonagall glared at Ashford every time she saw her.

The tapestry down the hallway fluttered and no one other than Clara Ashford herself emerged from the Slytherin common room, looking paler than usual and slightly sick. Tom scrutinized her carefully as she approached him. She hadn't looked like this at dinner.

"Feeling a bit under the weather, Miss Ashford?" he called out to her politely.

"I'm fine, thanks, Tom," Ashford replied, stopping a foot in front of him. "I was taking a nap after finishing homework."

"You are—" Tom checked his watch, "Thirty-two minutes late for Prefect duty, but I suppose I can let it go this time."

"I am?" Ashford asked, looking surprised. "Sorry."

"It is quite alright," he assured her graciously, leading them out of the dungeons. "I was—ah—a bit sidetracked myself, too."

Her grey eyes flickered up to his face before quickly looking back down. "Doing what?" she asked.

"Nothing much. I was merely thinking about our day in Hogsmeade next weekend." Tom smiled winningly at her.

"You were?" There was sudden hope in Ashford's voice. "I thought you'd forgotten…"

Tom shook his head. "How could I forget about something like that?" He reached out and took her hand.

Of course, holding Clara Ashford's hand repulsed him beyond belief, but it was necessary in order for the lie to work. Ashford, dim as she was, would still probably start to suspect something if he didn't.

For the briefest of seconds, Ashford's hand twitched in his, as if she wanted to pull it away. But Tom just held on tighter, and it was gone as quickly as it had come.

"I hope you do not mind," he said in a low but seductive voice.

"No, I don't," Ashford said, and Tom was pleased to hear her voice was slightly breathless.

"Good," he said. "I am really looking forward to getting to know you." There was a silent threat in his voice, but obviously the girl wouldn't notice.

"I'm looking forward to getting to know you, too," Ashford was saying. "You're very mysterious, you know, Tom."

"No, I did not know that," he replied. "Am I?"

She nodded.

"Interesting. Maybe it is because I have nothing to hide."

"Oh, but that's not nearly as fun to imagine." Ashford said. "I like picturing you as a great hero who steps in to rescue the girl he loves."

"Is that so?" Tom replied amusedly. "Well, that is exactly what I am." He winked at her and she giggled, that girlish laugh he hated so.

"You're so funny, Tom!" Ashford looked up at him adoringly. He resisted the urge to vomit and continued smiling.

There was a gasp from the end of the hallway. Alyssa MacDougal was standing there, mouth open and staring. She didn't appear to believe her eyes.

"Hey, Alyssa!" Ashford called. "How are you?"

She struggled to speak. "You…he…Tom Riddle!" she finally managed to choke out.

Tom smiled enchantingly. "Hello, Miss MacDougal."

Her mouth fell open even wider, though she didn't seem to have noticed. "Why are you holding hands?"

"Oh, haven't I told you?" Ashford asked. "Tom and I are going to Hogsmeade next weekend."

The female MacDougal blanched. "You are?" she shrieked. "Why didn't you tell me, Clara?"

Ashford shrugged. "I wanted to keep it a secret."

"When did he ask you? Or did you ask him?" MacDougal's eyes were shining, though Tom detected a little bit of jealousy in them. He quickly examined her mind and saw that his assumption was correct, though the envy was overshadowed by happiness for her friend.

"I asked him," Ashford said. "But he suggested Hogsmeade."

"That's awesome!" MacDougal yelped. "I'm so happy for you! But…" her face fell slightly, "I thought you h—"

Ashford coughed loudly, and MacDougal stopped. "Anyway, I've gotta go. See you later!" She winked at Ashford, and ran away before Tom had time to look into her mind again.

What did MacDougal mean by that? And why did Ashford stop her? Tom was a little bit aggravated that he cared so much about this, but he didn't let it show.

"So, where do you want to go in Hogsmeade?" Ashford asked as they strolled down the first-floor corridor. "The Three Broomsticks or maybe Madam Puddifoot's?"

Tom looked down at her. "Wherever you want to go. How did you know about those shops?"

Ashford's hand jerked. "Er—Professor Dumbledore gave me a map. It's like how I know my way around the school on the very first day."

"Ah," said Tom, although he did not believe a word of her lies. How had she known that much about Hogsmeade? Granted, one of the other students could have told her, but this seemed highly unlikely.

"Hey—Tom!" a voice said from one of the classrooms. "Who's your girlfriend?"

Tom recognized Abraxas Malfoy's voice at once. "Miss Ashford is simply accompanying me to Hogsmeade next weekend," he said. "She is not my girlfriend, Abraxas."

Malfoy looked abashed. "Sorry, Tom. I just thought that since you were holding hands and all. But you certainly could do better, in my opinion. She's not very easy on the eyes."

Ashford turned bright red. Tom glared at Malfoy. "If you would kindly leave us alone, Abraxas."

"Of course," Malfoy said. He looked at Ashford one more time before carrying on down the hall.

"I apologize for him," Tom said gallantly. "He does not know when to stop."

"It's fine," Ashford mumbled, but she was blinking rapidly as if holding back tears.

Tom nodded, though it was obvious Abraxas Malfoy had only one purpose for girls. Honestly, Tom did not see the point in getting women into bed, unless it was to coerce them to give you information. Most men, like Malfoy, seduced women for pleasure. The physical pleasure was something Tom could understand, though he had no use for it. One thing he did not comprehend, however, was why someone would want to get into bed willingly with someone else. The idea was foreign to him—if you didn't want to bribe someone or feel good physically, why would you even do it in the first place? Love? Tom scorned at the very idea.

The only reason he was holding Ashford's hand right now was to coerce her into giving him information. Luckily she didn't know that.

Tom bent his head close to her ear and whispered, "Maybe we should not look quite so conspicuous. Think of the rumors we will start!"

Ashford grinned, perking up with odd rapidity. "Do you want to keep this relationship secret, then?"

"At least until we go to Hogsmeade." Tom straightened and ran his hand through his hair, a move that always worked.

"Of course," Ashford said, appropriately breathless, and took her hand away from Tom's. The dark-haired boy let out a silent sigh of relief, resisting the urge to wipe his hand on his robes. He had never held a girl's hand before, and it was every bit as repulsive as he had imagined it would be.

"Come on," he said, gesturing toward a door. "It is almost time for Prefect duty. We would not want to have Headmaster Dippet angry at us, would we?"

"Definitely not," Ashford agreed, and hurried through the door he held open.