I was going over the rest of the fic a couple of days ago...and realized that it's going to take longer than I thought to finish. I was originally going to make it forty chapters, but I would have to have the next two chapters massive thirty-page ordeals. I figure it would be best if I split everything into half. So...there will now be forty-five chapters (including the epilogue). So you'll have to deal with this story for another eight weeks yet!

Also, Danielle cannot see or hear the flashbacks in any way, shape or form. They're just a way to show what happened after she left.

TheEchoOfT. M. Riddles'Misery has made an awesome video of this story! It's on Youtube-the link is www . youtube watch?v=o6w1mwe_sQM (no spaces)

One last thing...for the past couple of chapters, the line breaks have been screwing up. I'm sorry and I'll try to fix it later when I can.

In the middle of the night, Danielle woke from one horrific nightmare into another. Something was stabbing her chest so tightly she couldn't breathe. She threw the bedclothes away and stared down at herself, half expecting to see bloodstains. But there was nothing there. It took her a while to realize the pain was coming from inside her chest.

So this was what it felt like, to miss someone so much it was impossible to breathe. Even when she had first arrived back in the past, the pain of losing her family hadn't been this bad.

Danielle lay curled up in a ball, gasping for air as tears leaked out from under her closed eyelids. She couldn't believe her heart hadn't cracked right down the middle. Tom's face was like a constant ghost, haunting her. Wherever she looked, he was there. She was even beginning to see his features in the faces of ordinary people. She was surely going mad.

For the rest of the night, she lay awake in vain, trying to calm down. The pain didn't let up one bit and by the time morning came she hadn't fallen back asleep.

It was hard, so terribly hard, to get out of bed like nothing was wrong and plaster a smile on her face. It was hard to chatter on to the girls about the classes they were taking and the amount of homework they would get. It was hard to pretend she still belonged here.

After breakfast, Danielle made straight for Professor McGonagall's office. Though the Headmistress was getting on in years and rumours were flying around that she would retire soon, she was still a powerful witch and a force to be reckoned with.

"Password?" the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the office asked when Danielle stopped in front of it.

"Er…I don't know," she said truthfully.

"Well then, I'm afraid you'll just have to—" it began, but was interrupted by footsteps running down the hallway.

"Danielle!" a voice called. She turned to see Andy jogging towards her. "Professor McGonagall wanted to see me in her office too."

Danielle frowned. "Why?" she asked. "And what did you want to tell me?"

Her brother shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "McGonagall just told me to find you." He turned to the gargoyle. "Vigilance!"

It moved aside and Andy immediately hurried behind it. Danielle followed him up a short, spiraling staircase before facing another wooden door. She knocked three times.

"Enter," the voice of Professor McGonagall said. Cautiously, the two siblings entered the room.

The Headmistress was sitting behind her desk in the centre of the large, circular room, looking stern even for her. Danielle's eyes scanned the portraits lining the walls until she found the one she was looking for. Old and white-bearded, but with the same twinkling eyes and kind expression, Dumbledore smiled down at her. This was in contrast to the portrait beside him, a scowling man with long black hair and very dark eyes.

Danielle longed to speak to Dumbledore, to ask him the thousands of questions currently clamouring for attention in her mind, but it was impossible with Andy and McGonagall there. So she pretended to not notice Dumbledore and instead sat down on one of the chairs in front of the Headmistress's desk.

"Now," McGonagall began once they were all seated, "I trust you have heard about the recent breakout from Azkaban."

Danielle and Andy nodded, exchanging a quick glance.

"There were seven Death Eaters that escaped. Their whereabouts are currently unknown.' McGonagall sighed, a gesture unusual for her. "I heard from Madam Pomfrey that you encountered a Dementor yesterday evening, Miss Bailey. They are just one of the forms of magical protection I have enforced around this castle, should the convicts choose to come here. I will readily admit that it was my error in bringing them so close to the school that they could harm a student. I assure you that you will not have to face one again."

"What are the other forms of magical protection?" Andy interrupted, but McGonagall fixed him with a brisk stare and he fell silent.

"Until they are caught, however, Hogwarts will be under the best security imaginable." The Headmistress pursed her lips in a thin smile. "You are now probably wondering why I called you up here, am I correct?"

"I thought you were going to explain my Prefect duties to me, Professor," Danielle said.

"So I was, Miss Bailey. But that is not the only reason I summoned you here." McGonagall paused. "Have you read the Daily Prophet today?"

"I don't read the newspaper," Andy said. Danielle merely shook her head.

McGonagall pushed a copy of the Daily Prophet over to them. "Some of the names might be familiar to you."

Danielle studied the headline carefully. Death Eaters escape from Azkaban, it read. Just underneath it were seven pictures of dark, cruel-looking wizards jeering at the camera. What caught her attention, though, were the two last pictures. She had seen those faces before, in her nightmares.

The Minister of Magic has confirmed that yesterday seven former Death Eaters escaped from Azkaban: Damien Mulciber, Ciaran Rosier, Brendan Avery, Thorfinn Rowle, Aaron Travers, Gregory Selwyn and Janus Yaxley…

Danielle didn't bother to read the rest of the article. Two of the men—Selwyn and Yaxley—had been the ones who were sent to murder her family. They had killed her grandparents and the brother she'd never known. They were still alive, and now they were at large.

"I see that Miss Bailey has figured it out," McGonagall said gently. Danielle looked up to see her normally severe face soften into a kinder expression. "Do you know how the breakout affects you, Mr Bailey?"

Andy shook his head, looking confused.

"Yaxley and Selwyn were the ones sent by Voldemort thirteen years ago to murder your family. They made a vow that as long as they were alive, they would serve Voldemort. Even though their master is now defeated, that will not stop them. They know that the four of you are still alive, and your parents fear that they will come after you."

There was a ringing silence in the office. Some of the portraits shuffled and coughed nervously. Others, like Dumbledore and the dark-haired man next to him, examined Danielle and Andy's reactions closely.

"So…does this mean we're in danger?" Andy finally asked in a strangled voice.

Normally Danielle would have laughed at her brother's cluelessness, but she only found herself staring straight ahead, frozen.

"Yes, Mr Bailey. Your parents owled the school as soon as they heard the news to inform me that they are going into hiding along with your two surviving grandparents. Here at Hogwarts, we will place the two of you under special protection." McGonagall adjusted her glasses. " This will mean restrictions such as an earlier curfew and limited trips to Hogsmeade."

"But that's not—"

"Do you want to be safe or not?" Danielle snapped at her brother. McGonagall and Andy looked surprised, but there was a knowing look in Dumbledore's eyes.

"That is a blunt way to say it, Miss Bailey, but the precautions are for your own safety," the Headmistress agreed. "Also, please do not tell your friends anything about this. Secrets can always slip out, even from the most trustworthy of people."

Danielle nodded. How many secrets was she keeping from everyone anyway? One more wouldn't hurt.

When McGonagall had finished instructing them, she gave a rare smile. "Don't worry too much on this matter. The current Auror team at the Ministry is one of the best in Europe. I'm sure the Death Eaters will be caught soon."

Andy looked relieved, and Danielle tried to make herself feel the same way. She'd had to deal with murderers before. In fact, she'd fallen in love with one. But something told her the same wouldn't happen with Yaxley or Selwyn.

Shortly afterwards, McGonagall dismissed Andy. When he had left, Danielle fidgeted in her seat and tried to look interested as the Headmistress filled her in on the requirements of being a Prefect. It was rather ironic that even with all the restrictions placed on her, she was still allowed to be one. By now, Danielle figured being a Prefect was more trouble than it was worth.

Finally, McGonagall finished her speech. "…As always, go to the Head of your house or the Head Boy and Girl if you have any questions."

Danielle nodded. "I will. Er, Professor, do you mind if I speak with Dumbledore for a moment?"

The Headmistress looked surprised. "I won't stop you, but if you need assistance—"

"It is a private matter, Minerva," the portrait of Dumbledore said kindly. "Miss Bailey has been waiting to speak with me for some time, I imagine."

Danielle inwardly cheered. McGonagall seemed to take this as a dismissal. "Very well," she sighed. "You are a Prefect and I trust you will not deface the office. Just do not be too long with the matters you are discussing—classes start in fifteen minutes."

"Yes, ma'am."

With one last disapproving look at the portraits, McGonagall left the office, shutting the door behind her. Danielle instantly leapt out of her seat and ran to the wall. All the other portraits watched her eagerly.

"Go ahead, Miss Bailey," Dumbledore encouraged. "I assumed you would be back in here someday."

"What did you say to Tom?" Danielle asked. "What did you tell the others about my disappearance?"

"Shortly after you'd left, I went back upstairs to Mr Riddle's room—"

"Riddle?" several portraits said in unison.

"Are you talking about Tom Riddle?" a white-haired, squat man asked. Danielle realized with a jolt it was a much older Professor Dippet.

"Yes, we are, Armando," Dumbledore replied. He gave Dippet a stern look, and the old Headmaster stood up and walked out of his portrait. Stunned, Danielle watched the other portraits do the same until her, Dumbledore, and the sallow-faced man beside him were the only ones left.

"How did you do that?" Danielle asked in disbelief. "Get them all to leave?"

"Professor Dumbledore has ways about him mere mortals cannot dream of," the sallow-faced man spoke for the first time, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He surveyed Danielle suspiciously from under a greasy curtain of hair.

"Are you Professor Snape?" she asked him, awed. Severus Snape was one of the most controversial figures in wizarding Britain even thirteen years after his death. There were still fierce debates as to whether he had been evil or not and entire novels written about him. One of the rumours was that he had become a double agent for Dumbledore after Voldemort had killed the woman he loved. Danielle had always liked that explanation; she thought it was terribly romantic. But looking at this sour, vampire-like man she found it hard to imagine him loving anyone.

Professor Snape's sneer had deepened. "Funny, I thought you were supposed to be a Ravenclaw," he said.

Danielle felt her face flush in anger. She ignored the smirking ex-Headmaster and turned back to Dumbledore, who was looking rather amused. "You can continue, Professor."

"Well," Dumbledore said casually, "When I went back up to Mr Riddle's room, I found him sitting on the bed with his belongings packed and his wand at the ready. I assume he was waiting for you, or he would have left by then."

A jolt of pain stabbed Danielle's heart, but she forced herself to ignore it.

"When I entered the room, he was most angered to see me. He tried to hide it, but I am somewhat gifted in Legilimency, as you know. I explained to him that you had received word that your Muggle aunt, who was vacationing in Holland, had passed away unexpectedly and you were going to see her."

"Albus, what exactly is the meaning behind this?" Snape asked, looking frustrated.

But Dumbledore held up a hand to silence him and continued: "Of course, being who he was, Mr Riddle did not believe my story for one second. He demanded that he follow you—"

Danielle winced.

"—But I told him you would be back to Hogwarts as soon as possible since it had reopened," Dumbledore said. "I could tell he was still mistrustful of me, but seeing as how I had just saved his life and I knew his biggest secret didn't put him in a wise position to discuss the matter further. I Apparated him to Hogwarts and immediately had Julia make him a healing potion—if he took the potion once a week the effects of the curse would be slowed. It was what we were planning to give him before he escaped Hogwarts." Dumbledore smiled pleasantly. "The next day, however, just before the other students began to arrive, I informed Headmaster Dippet about your journey to Holland. Several hours later, he received a letter informing him that you had been killed by Grindelwald's forces. The Headmaster made a speech at dinner and the matter was resolved. You must remember, Miss Bailey," he said as Danielle opened her mouth, "You were not the only student to mysteriously disappear or die in those years. It would not have seemed completely out of the ordinary to the other students."

The portrait of Snape had blanched as soon as Dumbledore had said the word 'Dippet'. Now he was visibly angered. "Armando Dippet has not been Headmaster for sixty-one years, Albus," he said dangerously. "Do you mean to say that—"

"Miss Bailey was in the past? Yes, Severus," Dumbledore answered. "She found a Time-Turner and accidentally sent herself back to the year 1942."

"That is impossible!" Snape growled. "The use of every Time-Turner is strictly controlled by the Ministry. There is no possible way the girl could have randomly stumbled across it!"

"I have thought of that too, Severus," Dumbledore replied. "It was a first-generation one too."

"First generation?" Danielle asked.

"Yes. When the first Time-Turner was invented in 1930, it only had the power to change the year, not the date or time. The second generation of Time-Turners were invented just after the new millennium, with the ability to change the date as well as the year. You, in 2011, found a Time-Turner that was at least fifteen years old. At the battle of the Department of Mysteries in 1996, every single Time-Turner was destroyed. This means that it is no coincidence it just happened to show up on your front lawn."

"You mean someone traveled at least fifteen years into the future to do it deliberately," Danielle said. Her mind was racing.

Dumbledore nodded. Snape looked livid. "That is exactly why Time-Turners should be banned and destroyed," the dark-haired professor said, voice shaking in anger. "How do you know she hasn't changed anything, Albus?"

"Oh, she certainly changed things," Dumbledore said casually. "However, Severus, you must remember she is not the first person to use a Time-Turner and get lost in the past—or future. Every action you take, Miss Bailey, could be the result of a complete stranger meddling with time."

Danielle stared at the portrait in dismay. "Why does this have to be so complicated?" she moaned.

Snape looked ready to snap back a sarcastic retort, but Dumbledore intervened. "It is only as complicated as you make it, Miss Bailey."

She shook her head to clear it. "Anyway, how did you convince Dippet and Madam Cutteridge to allow Tom back in the school?" she asked.

Dumbledore frowned. "I do not possess those memories."

"What do you mean?"

"You must remember, Miss Bailey, I am merely a portrait producing a faint echo of the past. I do not have all the memories a real person would have, nor am I a reincarnation."

"Then how do I know you're telling the truth?"

"You don't," said Snape, the smirk now back on his face. Danielle glared at him, which only seemed to make it bigger.

There was the sound of brisk footsteps outside and the door to the Headmistress' office swung open. Professor McGonagall re-entered with a misshapen package. "Have you finished your discussion yet?" she asked disapprovingly.

"Yes, I think so," said Dumbledore. He smiled at Danielle, who couldn't bring herself to smile back.

"Before you start your classes, Miss Bailey, I would ask that you do one small favour." McGonagall handed her the package. "Please give this to your friend Miss Hawthorne. She will know what it is."

"Tabitha?" Danielle asked, balancing it in her hands. "Did the mail come early?"

"No, it is not mail." McGonagall looked steely-eyed at her. "It is highly confidential, so I beg you will not open it."

Danielle shook her head and stuffed the package in her robes. "I won't."

As she left the office, she dimly heard McGonagall saying, "What in the name of Merlin was that all about, Albus?"

Dylan had just come back from dinner the night after O.W.L.s had finished, exhausted and spent. He was relieved to be going back home the next day, away from the suddenly dark atmosphere at Hogwarts.

As he walked over to his bed, he noticed a box lying on Riddle's bedside table. It looked to be made of pure gold. Dylan frowned. Riddle, the penniless orphan, owned something as expensive as that box?

He tried to forget about it, but his curiosity eventually won out. The other boys hadn't come back from dinner yet, and Riddle was nowhere to be seen. It was as if some invisible force compelled him to the box. Cautiously, Dylan walked over to it and slowly opened up the cover. He was momentarily confused—why would Riddle have nothing but a mirror inside of it?

But it wasn't just any mirror. Dylan sucked in a sharp breath as he stared at his reflection. He looked to be much older, and he was wearing the distinguished golden robes that were the symbol of the Minister for Magic. He was grinning back at himself as people gathered around him, looking reverent.

As Dylan watched in awe, his reflection winked at him and turned around, revealing a bank vault filled to the brim with shiny gold Galleons.

"What do you see?"

Dylan whirled around, dropping the box in his surprise. Riddle stopped its fall and levitated it back up onto the table. His eyes were fathomless.

"I—I see myself Minister for Magic," Dylan blurted out, unable to resist Riddle's stare. "I'm the richest wizard alive."

"A common desire, to be sure," the boy sneered. "But you are not worthy of that, Dylan MacDougal."

"Why not?" Dylan asked angrily. He was feeling very uneasy.

Riddle merely smirked. He was twirling his wand around in his fingers. "Perhaps you are pure-blood, but only in name. Blood traitors are not true pure-bloods."

"Shut it, Riddle," Dylan snapped. It was only then he noticed Riddle had his hand on his wand. Dylan froze, waiting for something to happen, but nothing did.

Taking advantage of Riddle's momentary shock, he ran as fast as he could of the dormitory and all the way out of the Slytherin common room, meeting up with his sister and Alphard coming back from dinner.

"What's wrong, Dylan?" Alyssa asked, noticing the panic in his voice.

"Riddle—he—I think he was going to curse me," Dylan gasped. He pulled the others into a corner and quickly explained what had happened in a low voice. By the time he had finished, Alphard had a triumphant look on his face.

"He erased our memories," he said smugly. "That's why I've been having these weird déjà vu moments! Don't you remember?"

Now that Alphard mentioned it, Dylan found he did indeed have a shadowy memory of Riddle confronting him and Alyssa in the common room…"But why are we remembering it?" he asked. "Riddle is one of the best students in the school. Surely his Memory Charms would be powerful."

"He's cursed," Alphard explained. "Oh, don't you remember? Helena Ravenclaw told us the story. Clara knew, and she went to help him. And when we came back to school, he started taking potions from the hospital wing. It must be draining him of his abilities."

"That would make sense," frowned Alyssa. "Remember in Transfiguration when he couldn't even turn a pillow into a mouse?"

"Or the time he barely passed when we were brewing the Wit-Sharpening Potion?" Alphard asked excitedly. "It all makes sense!"

"So what do we do now?" Dylan asked. "He'll probably erase our memories again. And he's a good Legilimens, Clara told me."

"Stay as far away from him as possible," advised Alphard. "Pretend like you don't know anything."

"And if you get too close, run," Alyssa added.

When she next saw Tabitha, Danielle gave the package straight to her without asking any questions. She had enough on her mind anyway without adding in another mystery.

The two weeks that followed her arrival back in 2011 were the most painful of her life. She couldn't pay attention in class, she often forgot about Prefect duty and she slept during most of her spare time. She had turned into a shell of her former self.

Danielle tried her hardest to ignore the ache in her heart, but she would find tears pricking at her eyes at the most inopportune of moments. Adrianna, Heidi and Fiona were all extremely worried and tried to help her out at first (Tabitha always seemed to be elsewhere) but when Danielle didn't respond to their support, they slowly began to drift away from her. She was fine with that; she'd always been the type to suffer in silence. It was the nature of Ravenclaws, anyway.

As far as she and Andy knew, their parents were still in hiding. Harry Potter and his family had mysteriously disappeared as well. Danielle fervently hoped they would all be safe.

On a blustery fall day in the middle of September, she was attempting to brave the weather and do her homework outside when Teddy Lupin ran up to her. "Danielle!" he called. "D'you have a minute?"

Danielle turned to him, feeling slightly happier in spite of herself. Andy was lucky to have such an upbeat, optimistic friend. "Yeah," she said. "What's up?"

"I was just wondering how you were," he said, turning up his collar as a cold wind assailed them, blowing leaves into their faces. "You know, with the Death Eaters after you and all."

Danielle groaned. Of course Andy couldn't keep his mouth shut. "I'm doing fine, Teddy," she told him. A group of menacing-looking seventh-year Slytherins glared at them as they passed.

He smiled, seeming relieved. "Good. I would be terrified if I was you. And I'm supposed to be a Gryffindor!" His normally light brown hair turned a bright shade of red as he spoke.

Danielle laughed for what felt like the first time in months. "Don't underestimate yourself," she warned him.

They walked around the grounds once before Teddy clapped a hand over his mouth. "Oh! Danielle, I'm so sorry—I completely forgot. Professor McGonagall wanted to see you in her office."

The hope Danielle had felt a second before was immediately extinguished, to be replaced by the cold doubt of fear. "Did she look worried?" she asked.

Teddy shrugged. "No more than usual. Andy was with her too."

Oh no. Danielle's smile disappeared. "Thanks for making me feel better, Teddy, but I have to go!"

She squeezed his hand in thanks before sprinting all the way up to the castle. Not even bothering to catch her breath, she took the stairs two at a time up the Grand Staircase until she reached the Headmistress's office. "Vigilance!" she gasped at the gargoyle.

It moved aside and Danielle burst into the office without knocking. Her stomach plummeted instantly. McGonagall was looking extremely gave and Andy's eyes were red. "What happened" she asked, mouth dry.

"It's Mum and Dad," Andy croaked. "Yaxley and Selwyn found them. They're dead."

It was a fine summer's day at the Riddle House. The sun shone brightly and the sky was a perfectly cloudless blue, illuminating the enormous manor and making it look halfway inviting—a difficult feat.

Of course, the inhabitants inside didn't go outdoors to enjoy the weather—in fact, they barely glanced out of the window the entire day. The rich, snobbish Riddles didn't care about anything other than themselves and their money. The villagers in the nearby town of Little Hangleton had learned to avoid the area entirely.

At dinnertime, the three Riddles—young Tom Riddle, who had caused quite a scandal seventeen years beforehand when he had run off with a poor man's daughter—and his elderly parents Thomas and Mary Riddle silently entered the dining-room. They sat at the long mahogany table and ate their meal in silence, pausing only to demand favours from the housekeeping staff.

When they were finished, they moved into the drawing-room, where they proceeded to discuss all manner of boring things. Since the Riddle fortune had been passed down for generations, none of them knew life outside of their comfortable manor.

At seven o'clock, a maid knocked on the door. "There is a guest here to see you," she said. "He claims he's a relative."

"That's impossible," Mr Riddle snapped, looking pointedly at his son. "We have no other relatives."

Tom Riddle had gone pale. Could that witch of a woman who had hoodwinked him possibly be back? No—she would never have the nerve to show her face anywhere near him again.

The maid stepped aside to reveal a perfect replica of Tom in his younger days—tall, extremely handsome, and pale. All of the Riddles gasped.

Mary Riddle dropped her tea. "Who are you?" she demanded.

The guest, who looked to be around sixteen or seventeen, didn't answer right away. He examined all three Riddles closely with a gaze that made them shudder. Finally, he said, "I am Tom Riddle."

"That's not possible," Thomas said instantly. "My son is Tom Riddle."

A horrible suspicion was beginning to dawn on the original Tom. He jumped out of his chair. "That little slut was pregnant, wasn't she? You look about the right age to be that vermin of hers."

Thomas shook his head slightly at him. Mary shut her eyes and clutched her husband's arm.

"Yes," the mysterious guest said evenly, a look of disgust upon his face. "I am your son."

"You—you are no son of mine!" Tom shot back, the wine he had recently drunk fueling his temper.

"You are no father of mine, either," the younger Tom Riddle agreed, still calmly. "You will pay for what you have done."

"How about you go ask your mother what she did to me? She hoodwinked me, tricked me. She said she was a witch and she had been keeping me under a Love Potion."

"My mother is dead," the teenager said. "And very soon, you will be too." He pulled something that resembled a stick out of his pocket.

Mary screamed. Thomas didn't even look at his wife; he was looking around for an escape. But the most terrified one of all was Tom Riddle Senior.

Before anyone else could utter another word, the room flashed with green light and all was silent.