I'm not going to be able to update for at least a week because I'll be in Florida, but I'll try to write as much as I can anyway. Now, some of you may love this chapter, and some of you may hate it, but for entirely different reasons. :D

Salazar Slytherin. The name spun around Danielle's head for the rest of the night. She put on a cheerful face during the reception, and even joked with Alyssa before she and Alphard left on their honeymoon, but inside she was paralyzed with worry. Slytherin himself—Tom's ancestor—knew that Tom had cured himself of Vetus Periculosus and was aware that he had tried to create a Horcrux. Additionally, he had at least one of the Hallows and would stop at nothing to get the others.

"Oh, no," Danielle whispered to Tom as they watched Alyssa and Alphard walk arm-in-arm up to the hill where they would Disapparate. "I forgot to ask Dumbledore about the Hallows!"

Although Tom didn't outwardly react, she could see his eyes flicker around the crowd of guests, searching for him. But the Transfiguration professor seemed to have disappeared, along with Georgina, who had snuck out of Hogwarts for the occasion, carelessly throwing aside her Head Girl duties.

"I'll write to him tomorrow," she said with a heavy sigh. With a loud crack, Alyssa and Alphard Disapparated, drowning out the rest of her sentence.

"I presume this means we can leave now?" Tom asked sardonically, and Danielle nodded, turning away from the rest of the guests.

"I just hope they haven't taken all the things from our flat," she muttered. "I don't have enough money to afford new furniture." She and Tom slipped into a shadowy spot under one of the grand turrets of the manor, and they quietly Disapparated back to London, leaving a crowd of intoxicated party guests behind.

If any of the flat's tenants thought it odd that a middle-aged woman and an old man were dashing up the stairs to the seventh floor, neither seeming out of breath, they didn't let on. It was only belatedly that Danielle realized they didn't have a key, but of course Tom was able to open it (she suspected it was a spell that he had invented himself) which was just in time for both of them to change back into their normal selves. Danielle was more relieved than she probably should have been to see Tom as his usual self again—it had been very disconcerting seeing him as an elderly man…unnatural, almost. Well, she supposed, considering his Horcrux, now it was.

To her great surprise, the flat was almost exactly as they'd left it—the furniture, kitchen utensils, and their bed were all untouched and relatively dust-free, as if they'd been gone days instead of months. "Do you think the Ministry even searched the flat at all?" Danielle asked as she sprawled out on the bed.

"Yes, but it appears they did not find anything worth taking," Tom replied. He was staring at his reflection in the mirror, as if determined to see that he had completely transformed back into his real self. "There were Tracking Charms placed on the furniture, but they have since been removed, proving Dumbledore's explanation that our names have been cleared."

Danielle knew she should feel relieved that they were no longer fugitives—but all she felt was that one small thing had been checked off their list of current problems. "I find it hard to believe that Holstone would be working for Slytherin," she mused. "He seemed more interested in getting Olive and I to work in the Time Room…making Time-Turners—bloody hell!" Tom glanced over as she shot up, moving so fast that she tumbled right off the bed. "Time-Turners," Danielle repeated as she jumped up and stared across the room at him, barely seeming to notice that a bruise was forming on her shoulder. "What if it wasn't a coincidence that Holstone had me working in the Time Room? What if he actually does have proof that I'm a time-traveller and he's looking to change the future somehow?"

She expected Tom to look surprised, or at least even acknowledge that she had a point, but his face was disappointingly blank as he said, "That occurred to me yesterday when you mentioned Holstone. I would not be surprised if he has already traveled into the future and encountered you. Perhaps he has some form of evidence that he will use against you."

Danielle's blood ran cold. "Evidence?" she gulped. "Then why hasn't he used it against me yet? Surely he would have shown the Minister something—"

"Perhaps he is looking to go to the future again," Tom said, his voice perfectly clear of all emotion. "And if he does, you cannot do anything to stop him. This is why time should never be tampered with, Clara."

Danielle imagined she heard a silent accusation in his voice, and instead of arguing with him about it—because by now she could imagine exactly what he would say—she chewed on her lower lip anxiously, searching for answers. "But that still doesn't explain why he's working with Slytherin, unless they want to go to the past, not the future, and find some way to preserve Slytherin's Horcruxes. Holstone strikes me as someone who doesn't do anything unless there's something in it for himself, and I don't see what he could possibly get out of that partnership…maybe Slytherin is teaching him Dark Magic?" She stared helplessly at Tom, utterly lost.

He stood up straighter, almost as if he was squaring his shoulders, and finally said, "Slytherin will turn up again eventually. Even if he has the Elder Wand, I know he will not kill me. He cannot kill his Heir." But Danielle wondered if he'd managed to convince himself of that. His eyes fixed on the Horcrux locket, and she was struck with the sudden idea that his opinion of his once-revered ancestor was beginning to change.

She fell asleep almost as soon as she went to bed that night, utterly exhausted. Her dreams were full of strange hooded figures and Holstone leering at her, wearing a Time-Turner around his neck. Danielle, in a shaky voice, demanded to know what they wanted with her, but neither of them ever spoke.

She woke up late the next morning—it was nearly noon by the time she finally dragged herself out of bed and went into the kitchen to make some breakfast—or rather, lunch—and saw that Tom was sitting at the table, intently studying the Daily Prophet. If she hadn't known him as well as she did, she would have thought she was only imagining the tightness in his posture and the ever-so-slight clenching of his fists. "What is it?" Danielle asked idly, reaching up into the cupboard to grab a slice of bread which was, miraculously, still fresh.

"Dumbledore is dead," Tom said through clenched teeth. He didn't look over at her.

Danielle dropped the slice of bread—it bounced onto the floor, where Ophelia immediately attacked it with glee, but she didn't move. "What?" she choked, wondering if this was his idea of a joke.

Wordlessly, Tom shoved the paper over at her. Danielle grabbed it, feeling as if every organ in her body had shrunk as her eyes landed on a picture of Dumbledore on the front page, his eyes twinkling as he stared at the camera.

Transfiguration Professor and Order of Merlin Recipient, Albus Dumbledore, Found Dead

The Prophet can exclusively confirm that Albus Dumbledore, age sixty-four, has been confirmed dead after his body was found in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts last night. Officials believe that the Killing Curse was used on him, as a search of his body and the immediate area has so far yielded nothing. The Hogwarts Headmaster, Armando Dippet, is expected to make a statement later today. So far, inquiries and investigations are being carried out, although no definite answers have appeared so far. The funeral will be held at Hogwarts on the twelfth of December; anyone who wishes to may attend…

The rest of the article detailed Dumbledore's early life and the various accomplishments he had achieved, but Danielle barely skimmed it. She let the newspaper fall from her hands, back onto the table, while the picture of Dumbledore smiled kindly up at her. "I can't believe it," she gasped. "We were talking to him just last night."

"I am certain this is Slytherin's work," Tom said darkly. "He knew that Dumbledore had the diadem."

"Because you told him!" Danielle snapped. She sank into her chair and shoved the paper away from her as if it were poisonous. "Even Dumbledore couldn't stand a chance against the Elder Wand. Slytherin must have been biding his time at Hogwarts, waiting to catch Dumbledore alone…oh, Merlin. What am I going to do? It's my fault—I should have told him sooner. He did so much for me and I barely even thanked him…" Danielle trailed off, fighting back the tears. The outline of Tom sitting across from her blurred as water filled her eyes, and she brushed them away impatiently. She was entirely on her own now. The thought was too much to bear.

"Slytherin may have gotten the diadem as well," Tom was saying, making Danielle feel even worse. His detached, emotionless voice was so flat he may as well have been talking about the weather. "If what Dumbledore believed is true, he would have already cured himself of Vetus Periculosus and will create more Horcruxes. If he now owns all three Hallows, he may be even more powerful."

And we have to do something about it. We have to stop him, because he is somehow tied up with Holstone, and Holstone knows that I'm a time-traveller. If both Slytherin and Holstone have access to Time-Turners, they can alter the timeline in an infinite number of ways, Danielle thought. She gave a small gasp as she stared at Tom. What if they already had altered the timeline, and any moment could be her last? What if they went to her time and killed her as a baby, thus preventing her existence? She was liable to disappear at any moment. What would Tom do then?

But Danielle didn't voice these thoughts aloud; she was sure that Tom had already considered them. "So what are we going to do?" she asked. Her voice sounded as if she was hearing it from the opposite end of a long tunnel.

He looked squarely at her, a hard glint in his blue eyes. "I am going to find Slytherin."

Danielle barely stopped crying during the next few days; she had never felt so completely and utterly alone. Even when she had been at her worst when she'd first been flung into 1942, even when she'd felt hopeless after Tom had been ill with the curse, Dumbledore had always been there, if not actively helping, then offering words of advice and comfort. Now that he was dead and gone, she felt as if she had lost herself.

Tom was angry as well, although he wasn't mourning Dumbledore's death, of course: he was furious that his search for the Hallows had, once again, proved fruitless. Danielle avoided speaking to him; she couldn't bear to hear his callous comments and his cruel remarks that would undoubtedly begin if she mentioned how upset she was that Dumbledore was dead. It was, after all, what Tom had wished from the moment he'd first met the man: it had just come at a most inopportune time.

Of course Danielle wasn't going to miss the funeral, and she had made arrangements to meet up with Dylan and Georgina while she was at Hogwarts. Part of her was secretly glad for an excuse to see the castle again, as it felt like it had been years she'd been away from it, not mere months.

On the morning of December the twelfth, she awoke early and came out of the bedroom wearing the plain black mourning dress she had bought at Madam Malkin's the day before. Tom was perusing Hogwarts, A History in front of the fire and seemed barely to notice her as she approached.

"I suppose I'm going to the funeral on my own, then?" Danielle asked glumly, pocketing her wand and grabbing a handful of Floo Powder. She could Apparate if she wished, but she still wasn't comfortable Apparating long distances, so she had decided to Floo to Hogwarts instead and risk ruining her dress.

Tom nodded, finally glancing up at her over the pages of the book. "Even if Slytherin did manage to obtain the diadem, I doubt that he is still at Hogwarts. He would have escaped as far away as possible before the investigation into Dumbledore's death begun."

Danielle gulped; she hadn't thought of that. "Maybe he'll leave you alone now that he has what he wants."

Tom looked exasperated. "Dumbledore said himself that Slytherin has a personal interest in me. I think it should be obvious that Holstone requires you for something as well. If anything, Clara, this is just the beginning."

The atmosphere at Hogwarts was a sombre one indeed as Danielle made her way through the corridors and the Grand Staircase, searching for Georgina. She had Floo'd straight into the Entrance Hall, as most of the other guests arriving for the funeral were doing—she was relieved to see that she hadn't been the only one who had chosen that particular method of transportation.

Luckily, she didn't have to wait long—Georgina was already standing in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, looking unusually serious. "I can't believe this is happening," she said as soon as Danielle was in earshot.

"I know," Danielle agreed. "I keep expecting Dumbledore to walk around the corner any moment."

"Dippet told me that the Ministry is going to rule it out as suicide," Georgina whispered as they started down the Grand Staircase, passing several wailing ghosts.

"Suicide?" Danielle asked, flabbergasted. "Why?"

"Oh, you know…he had a tragic past—his Squib sister, his father being sent to Azkaban, his friendship with Grindelwald…" Georgina waved a dismissive hand. "The Prophet loves that sort of thing."

"His sister wasn't a Squib—" Danielle began indignantly, but Georgina shushed her.

"Yes, but no one here knows that." Georgina looped her arm through Danielle's and led her outside, where a crowd was beginning to gather by the lake. Despite the dismal occasion, the sun shone brightly above them, the snow glistening like diamonds under their feet. A large white tomb lay in the centre of the crowd, next to which Danielle recognized the gray hair and steely eyes of the Minister for Magic himself, Lorcan McLaird. Her stomach gave a sudden drop, as if the ground had been pulled out from under her, and she quickly glanced away, allowing Georgina to lead her to her seat.

There appeared to be guests from every walk of life attending the funeral; Danielle heard at least ten different languages being spoken around her, and she could have sworn she saw a group of vampires and werewolves seated several rows away from them. Dumbledore, she thought, had a universal appeal. Perhaps the crowd wasn't as large as it would have been had he died a natural death decades later—or even when he'd died in her timeline—but there had to be at least two or three hundred mourners.

"Hey," a voice hissed from the seat beside her. Danielle, still thinking of McLaird and cringing slightly, glanced over and saw Dylan, looking just as serious as Georgina. He looked even paler than usual in his dark suit and even his hair appeared to have lost some of its colour.

"Dylan," Danielle breathed, relishing in the warmth of a familiar face. "I feel as if I'm in a dream. This can't be real."

"If it's a dream, it's definitely a vivid one," her friend said glumly, staring ahead at the tomb. "Merlin, this is surreal. Dumbledore dead…what could have possibly killed him?"

"Or why would he kill himself?" Georgina asked loudly from Danielle's other side, causing a group of gossiping witches to stare open-mouthed at them.

It was evident Dylan hadn't heard the rumours; even his freckles turned white. "If he killed himself…what could possibly be so horrible that he would want to escape from?"

The notion made Danielle feel even worse.

The funeral began shortly after that, with Dippet reciting a long-winded, gloomy speech about how he had been Dumbledore's mentor (As if, Danielle thought furiously) and how he had given many students a love of Transfiguration and lemon drops. She was appalled; Dippet's speech made it sound like he was solely responsible for Dumbledore's accomplishments. Danielle's dislike of the Headmaster deepened even further, and she was forced to stop listening lest she jump up and scream at him. Her eyes wandered through the crowd—and to her horror she spotted a wretchedly familiar, sneering face standing a ways away from the group, a cruel grin on his face.

Holstone.

For a moment, Danielle's mind went blank—she considered Disapparating on the spot to escape him, but it was likely that he hadn't seen her yet and so she settled for slumping down into her seat, staring unseeingly ahead of her. Her stomach jumped again as she realized that there was now a body lying in the tomb: Dumbledore lay very still, but there was an air about him that made Danielle wonder if he was just sleeping after all. He wore a long pair of magenta robes covered with stars, the same outfit he'd worn at Alyssa and Alphard's wedding, and his half-moon glasses were still perched crookedly on his nose. Danielle had to turn away from the sight and she felt tears spill over her eyes; Dylan squeezed her hand comfortingly but she could see that his posture was bent and rigid, as if he were trying not to cry as well. The loud sobs in the crowd didn't help, either, and Danielle reached up with her free hand to wipe the tears from her face, freezing in the winter air.

An enormous orange flame suddenly erupted over the tomb, and Danielle instantly thought of Holstone, but no one else had reacted: she presumed it was just part of the ceremony. Dumbledore's body had disappeared and the white tomb was now closed, sealing Danielle's greatest mentor away from her.

She felt as if a part of her heart had been blocked off as well: letting go of Dylan's hand, she stood up and quietly bid goodbye to him and a sobbing Georgina; she couldn't bear to look at the tomb any longer. Holstone had disappeared now, but she still felt unsettled, although she wondered if it hadn't just been her mind playing tricks on her.

A hand touched her shoulder, and she whirled around, prepared for a duel. But it was only McLaird: Danielle shied away from him, as if he were poisonous. But the expression on his face was very apologetic indeed. "Miss Clara Ashford," he began. "What a pleasure to see you again."

Oh, really? Danielle thought sarcastically, but didn't voice her thoughts out loud. Instead she said, "It's a pleasure to see you as well, sir."

McLaird looked almost sheepish. "I wish to apologize for my dreadfully foolish behaviour when we first met. I should not have let Vikram do such a thing—but rest assured that he is taken care of now."

Danielle thought of telling him that she had seen Holstone at the funeral, but kept her mouth shut. "Is he?" she asked vaguely, beginning to turn away. She wanted nothing to do with the Minister.

"Miss Ashford, please wait," said McLaird, and she reluctantly looked back at him. "I wish to speak to you about Dumbledore's will."

"His will?" she asked, uncomprehending.

The Minister nodded. "He has left two items to you, although he did not specify what they are." He reached into his robes and drew out two small objects wrapped in brown paper that reminded Danielle of the material Dumbledore had wrapped her Time-Turner in. "We have attempted to open them, but we were unsuccessful."

"They'll only open when the time is right," she whispered to herself, remembering his words to her three years previously. A tiny smile appeared on her face, and she slipped the two parcels into her robes. "Thank you, Minister."

McLaird looked expectant—he was obviously waiting for an explanation—but Danielle simply turned around and headed back up to the castle.

She was burning with curiosity when she arrived back at the flat. Tom was still sitting in the same armchair as before, although now he was holding a book on Ancient Runes. "I saw Holstone," Danielle said immediately, shaking the soot off her dress and plopping down into the chair across from him.

Tom was instantly alert. "What happened?"

"Nothing, and I'm not even sure if he saw me, but it was still unnerving all the same. Just before I left the Minister gave me these—" she pulled out the two packages, "—and said that Dumbledore had left them in his will."

Tom reached over to take one of them, and to Danielle's great surprise it began to open itself in his lap, neatly unfolding to reveal the shiny gold and bright sapphire of Ravenclaw's diadem. He glanced up at Danielle's, his expression suddenly wary. "Why would he leave you the diadem?"

Danielle shook her head in astonishment. "I have no idea. We have to hide it somehow—"

"Obviously," he drawled, twirling it around his fingers. "What about the other parcel?"

At his words, the brown package in Danielle's hands began to unwrap itself, and when she saw a glimpse of velvet she gasped, lifting the Invisibility Cloak and holding it up in front of her. Tom's expression was unabashedly greedy as he stared at it.

"Hang on…" Danielle mumbled; a small piece of parchment had fallen through the folds of the Cloak and landed on her arm. She read the twelve words written in Dumbledore's refined script aloud:

"'I do not know where the Stone is, and neither does he.' How did Dumbledore know you were looking for the Deathly Hallows?" Danielle gasped.

"He must have seen Slytherin with the Elder Wand and deduced that I knew he possessed it as well," Tom said slowly. "That is certainly…interesting."

"So what are we going to do now?" Danielle asked. "Slytherin is going to want the Invisibility Cloak, if he already used the diadem. But wouldn't he have the diadem if he stole it from Dumbledore?"

Tom shook his head but didn't answer, deep in thought. The sapphire in the diadem glinted against his hand, and Danielle was suddenly reminded of Dumbledore's tomb, how fragile the wizard had seemed and the thought that with a well-aimed curse, she could die as well, forever lost…The stress of the afternoon and the uncertainty that raged through her brain fueled her next statement, and she was no less shocked when she heard herself saying it for a second time. "Fine, I'll marry you."

He slowly looked up at her, mingled confusion and amusement evident on his features. There was a long silence, and just as Danielle was about to explain he said, "Those should be my words, Clara, not yours. I was not the one who originally asked."

"Fine, fine, whatever," she said angrily, feeling herself blush. "But I'm serious this time. I want to marry you, Tom Riddle. I don't know how long it's going to be before I die, but unlike you, I'm mortal and I have limited time. I don't want to spend the rest of my life living like this, playacting at being a couple. You've already said that you would marry me—I don't care if it's just convenience on your part. I've known for a long time that I'm going to stay with you until I die, and this is all I ask for."

Tom stared at her for an even longer time, his face perfectly blank. Danielle's heart was pounding and she was leaning forward as if his answer would mean life or death—and then she saw the tiniest of smirks cross his face. "Despite the…unconventionality of it all," he answered, his voice heavy with irony, "Yes, Clara. I will marry you."