June 23, 1998

Alexa woke up curled against Theo, with Blaise's head resting in her lap. Both were fast asleep, and she contemplated closing her eyes again, but with a sudden icy realization she remembered what would happen today.

She must have woken Theo up, because he yawned, looking down at her in surprise.

"G'morning," he said, looking around blearily.

"Morning," she responded, keeping the quiver out of her voice.

Blaise groaned from her lap, "Bloody hell it's too early for this," he grumbled.

She chuckled, "It's not that early," in truth she had no idea what time it was, but her statement vexed Blaise in a very satisfying way.

"Bloody Americans," he huffed, sitting up and readjusting her comforter.

"We were waiting up for you," Theo clarified, as if it needed clarification, "I guess we didn't quite manage the up part."

"Not quite," she agreed.

"Still," Blaise shrugged, leaning back and closing his eyes. She smiled fondly, her heart squeezing painfully tight in her chest. This might be the last time she ever saw them. She wanted to remember this moment, right where she was. But a quick glance at Theo's watch told her she had mere hours before she would be gone. It was time to move.

"I'm going to go get dressed, I've got some things I need to get done today," she said. She turned and kissed Theo's cheek, and then Blaise's. Theo's eyes went wide and Blaise gave her a distrusting look.

"Be good, love you guys." She rose and left the room.

"I'll never be tamed!" Blaise yelled as she ran up the stairs. Theo remained silent.

She showered. She meticulously brushed her teeth. She dried her hair and brushed it, taking time to pin it back carefully, like she thought she remembered her mother wearing. She applied make up, so far from any way she had ever done it the routine seemed foreign. With mechanical precision she pulled the red dress with long sleeves, the one that reminded her of her mother, over her head. She added the stockings, just like she remembered seeing in the shops when she was young, and the short black heels. Every action she took felt final, and totally unfamiliar. There would be no going back after today. She looked at herself in the mirror and her mind went back to the boggart. She tried to find some of Maria in her face. Something in the curve of her brows and the slope of her nose. It was there. But there was still too much of her father.

But the image of herself in the mirror was one she remembered hoping for as a child. The dress, the elegant hair, the shoes. She remembered how the women looked when she was young, and thinking how beautiful they all were. How she hoped one day she would be as elegant. She didn't know if she achieved it, but she was certain she looked the part for the time period.

She double checked her trunk. Made sure everything was there. On impulse she crammed in a few more sets of her modern clothes. She checked that she had the key to her vault. She checked again. She dropped into the shadows, trunk in hand, and stepped out at the room of requirement. That was where they were going to do it. She was positive McGonagall, Harry, Ginny, Neville, and Draco were all at breakfast still.

She had been wrong.

Neville was sitting on a couch on the far side of the room, anxiously bouncing his leg, a covered platter on the coffee table in front of him.

"You always skip breakfast when something big is going to happen," Neville said casually, although his voice was thick with emotion, "I thought I'd bring you some."

Alexa bit her lip, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes, "Nev," she sniffled.

"Hey, hey!" Neville rose quickly, a note of panic in his voice as he leapt up and pulled her into a bone crunching hug, "None of that. Well, some of that but you know what I mean-" She wordlessly hugged him back, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Thank you," she said, when they parted. He clapped his hand on her shoulder and gave her a watery smile.

"Course." Was all he said.

He helped her drag her trunk so it wouldn't be in the way and together they sat down. Neville had brought breakfast for them both, complete with coffee. She was immensely grateful to him, for so many things. They chatted, mostly about nothing, for a long time. But the topic couldn't be avoided forever.

"Are you ready?" He asked quietly, as she sipped her coffee.

She exhaled, setting it down, "As I'll ever be." She couldn't express to him the pounding in her chest, the fear rising in her veins, spiking and crashing like the tide. She wanted to run, to run for miles just to let it escape her system. But she had nowhere to go but through.

"You're going to be okay," Neville said firmly, looking her in the eye, "I've seen you do things I never thought were possible-you've taken on dementors and giants and even made a good first impression on my gran." Alexa laughed, and Neville grinned and powered on, "You've got this under control, and you'll have Dumbledore there to help you."

"That's true, provided he'll trust me," she sighed, "Hopefully I can find out who collected the prophecy too."

Neville nodded, "You can do it!" His limitless faith in her filled her with a new sense of determination.

"I can do it," she agreed.

"That's the spirit," a voice drawled from the door.

"Draco," Alexa jumped, "Goodmorning." He gave her a tight smile, and sat down on the couch next to her.

"Don't worry," he said, "I'm early. There's still some time."

She exhaled and leaned back against the couch.

"Okay," her voice was barely a whisper. Neville and Draco exchanged a look.

"You can still say no," Draco said.

She turned to look at him sharply, "I'm not backing out."

Draco gave her a wry smile, "I didn't think you would. You look nice, by the way. The color suits you."

"Thank you," she smoothed her skirt, "My mother had a dress like this, I think."

The door opened again, and this time it was Harry and Ginny.

Alexa rose, expecting it to be time, and for McGonagall to be behind them, but all she was met with was a flurry of red hair as Ginny threw her arms around her.

"You're going to be great," the ginger witch assured her. Alexa blinked back tears, and Ginny furiously rubbed her eyes, "But Merlin be careful."

"When am I not?" She chuckled. Ginny gave her a sharp look that matched the raised eyebrow from Draco and the snort from Neville.

"Oh come on!" Alexa laughed.

"We have gifts for you!" Ginny then declared, plopping herself on the loveseat adjacent to the sofa. Harry sat next to her, nodding.

"We thought, since this is your send off, we should do something," Harry said.

Alexa blinked back tears, "You didn't have to-"

"Oh sod off and enjoy your presents," Draco said firmly, patting the cushion next to him. She sat, shaking her head.

"Thank you," was all she said.

"Here!" Ginny said, handing her a small wrapped box. Alexa opened it, grinning at what she found inside.

"Luna helped me with them," Ginny explained, as Alexa pulled out two bottle cap earrings painted with what looked like a scarlet Pygmy puff in the center of each.

"I thought, since you couldn't say goodbye to her, this was as close as it could get," Ginny filled in.

"They're perfect, thank you," Alexa said, putting them in immediately.

Neville handed her a packet of envelopes tied together, "They're letters," he explained, "to read when you need them. Just different things-I didn't know what else..." he shrugged.

Alexa took the letters, blinking back tears for what felt like the hundredth time that day. She had never been given something so thoughtful. "Thank you," she said, hugging him briefly.

"Alright alright, my turn," Draco produced a small box from the folds of his robes.

Alexa opened the box, eyes growing wide at the locket inside. The chain was silver and delicate and the locket itself was circular, with a serpent winding around the edge.

"It can only be opened by you," Draco explained, "You can put whatever you want in it, and it will fit. It's empty now-I think it needs to be for the trip-but once you're there you can use it. I thought it might be useful."

"It's beautiful," she murmured, "Help me put it on?"

Draco nodded, and she handed the locket to him before turning away and lifting her hair. He brought it gently around her neck, and clasped it behind her. The trail of his fingers on her skin made her shiver.

"It looks nice," he nodded to himself.

"Thank you," she hugged him tightly, surprising him.

"You're welcome Di Angelo," he said, returning the embrace.

"This is from all of us," Harry said next, handing her a heavy wrapped rectangle.

"It was Potter's idea," Draco added. Harry flushed, but nodded, shrugging.

Alexa opened it. It was a thin book, and she opened it, stopping short at the first page. It was a photo album. The first photo filled the page, and she recognized it immediately. It was Dumbledore's army. They had taken a picture, all of them together, with Colin Creevey's camera. The rest of the book was filled with photos from her previous years at Hogwarts, from the Yule ball to the out of control Halloween party that had become a legend. The faces smiled and waved up at her from the paper, and she couldn't help the tears that began to trickle down her cheeks.

"Thank you," was all she could say as Neville and Ginny promptly hugged her, Ginny practically climbing into Draco's lap to do so. Draco protested loudly, causing Ginny to loudly scold him for not joining the group hug, which he then grudgingly did. Which prompted Neville to say that Harry should join as well but he would prefer it if he didn't sit on his lap.

Which is why when McGonagall walked into the room she found a pile of misty eyed teenagers all climbing on top of one another on the sofa.

She pressed her lips together, but there was amusement in her eyes. They parted, and Alexa stood, flanked by her friends, facing her kind eyed professor.

"It's time, Miss Di Angelo," McGonagall said. Alexa nodded firmly, wiping her tears away and squaring her shoulders. McGonagall turned, and began preparing the room for her departure, and Alexa quickly put the photo album and Neville's letters into the trunk, giving it one last once over, before latching it shut with visceral finality.

Neville and Draco picked it up, laying it where McGonagall directed it in the center of a rune outline that had been burned into the floor. She had gone through this meticulously with her former professor, she would have to stand on the trunk, there was only so much room within the spell.

"Do you have the potion, have you added your blood?" McGonagall asked.

"Yes, it's all packed and ready," Alexa said. Ginny stood next to her and squeezed her hand.

"You can do this," Ginny said. There was some of her old fire back in her brown eyes, like there had been before the battle.

"We're ready," McGonagall said. She regarded her students with a stern gaze, but her care was unmistakable.

Neville pulled her into one last hug, murmuring reassurances into her hair. Draco surprised her next by hugging her just as tightly, whispering good luck in her ear. Ginny was next, and she was wiping back tears when she pulled away.

"Give him hell for me, okay?" she said thickly.

"Of course," Alexa smiled.

Harry, whom she still barely knew, offered her his hand, "Thank you," was all he said. She shook it, nodding.

Draco gave her his hand and helped her step up onto the trunk, and then they all stepped back, outside the boundary of the circle of runes.

"Whenever you're ready," McGonagall said.

Alexa nodded, taking a deep breath. She turned to her friends, trying to freeze the image of them standing there together in her mind, trying to remember the warmth of being between Blaise and Theodore.

"Thank you," she said, for what felt like the millionth time that morning, "For being my friends. I will never forget you, and I hope you're happy in the lives you lead." She gave them a smile, forcing herself not to cry. She turned to McGonagall, nodded, and raised her wand.

"Tempus Motus!" the two witches cried together. The runes on the floor began to glow a brilliant blue, and wind swirled around Alexa until she felt like she was trapped in a tornado. A thick grey mist began to rise, twisting up in the wind until she could no longer see her friends, or indeed anything. A great fire seemed to rip through her body, burning hot and painful. A scream tore through her lips, and she swayed dangerously. Through sheer willpower she stayed on her feet. And then suddenly, everything seemed to freeze. The howling wind, the fog, the fire. It just stopped. And then the grey walls around her collapsed, falling to the floor with a sonic boom that left her ears ringing. Alexa gasped, and tumbled from the trunk, landing hard on her knees and hands. She panted, eyes closed, barely able to think. Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet, every muscle in her body burning.

And there Alexa was. Standing alone in the room of requirement.

It was the room, but there was nothing but white. Endless, pristine, shadowless white. She closed her eyes against the blinding darkness. She needed a door. When she opened her eyes, one had appeared. It was plain and wooden, like a broom closet. She exhaled and put her wand into the holster in her sleeve. Opening her trunk, she knelt in front of it and stared blankly at it's contents. She shook herself, reminding herself that it was done and she was there and it was for the greater good and pulled out the letter for Dumbledore, along with her papers to apply to Hogwarts, and a small handbag containing her Gringotts key. She shut the trunk, and leaned forward, curiously opening her locket. She pressed the corner of the trunk into the black, endless depths. With a slight swooshing sound, the trunk vanished into the jewelry. She would never see Draco again. Alexa squared her shoulders, heart pounding, scarcely able to think, and went through the door.

It was Hogwarts. But it was whole. She ran her hand along the wall where, in her time, the stone had been blown back and charred. She reached out, feeling for Dumbledore. She got lucky, he was in the castle. He was in McGonagall's office, or rather, his office. That would take some getting used to. She didn't want to give herself time to think about that.

Her heels clacked through the empty corridors, and she shivered. She had never seen the castle this empty. The view from the windows told her it was early morning, perhaps around eight or nine.

She stood outside the door, presently painted a pleasant periwinkle. The professor had apparently always been an eccentric. She rapped sharply three times.

"Come in," came a familiar voice.

She stepped through, and was quite suddenly taken aback. There was Dumbledore, more a legend than a real man in her time, perched on a ladder that was on top of his desk trying to coax Fawkes the Phoenix down from the high rafters. His hair was not yet it's pearlescent white, but rather a fading red, greying into a strawberry blond.

"You'll have to excuse me, I wasn't expecting a visitor today," Dumbledore said, glancing down at her with twinkling blue eyes over half moon spectacles, "My bird is rather badly behaved, and has taken my favorite quill hostage. To whom do I owe the pleasure?"

"Alessandra di Angelo, sir. I apologize for coming unannounced. I have a rather important letter for you that had to be delivered in person." At that precise moment, Fawkes swooped from the rafter to land heavily on her shoulder. She jumped at the sudden weight, but the bird only nibbled her ear.

"My goodness, I've never seen him do that. He seems to have taken quite a liking to you," he said, suddenly grave, "It's argued if that's a good or bad omen. I," he began to climb down the precariously perched ladder, "personally take it as a good one." He smiled, hopping from his desk and offering his hand. "Professor Albus Dumbledore," he said kindly, "Although something tells me you already know that." She could see in his eyes there was something guarded in his expression.

She handed him the letter, careful not to jostle Fawkes, "You may want to sit down."

He stared at the letter for a long moment, "This wax seal," he said, keeping his voice calm, "There are only two in existence. One is buried with my father. And the other," he tapped the heavy silver signet ring on his finger, "Doesn't leave my sight. Who is this letter from?"

"Open it," she urged, "then I'll answer your questions." She sat down on one side of the desk, and Fawkes leapt onto the perch sitting on the surface. Dumbledore, now looking very serious indeed, sat down in his chair across from her.

He tore the envelope open, and scanned the letter, eyes growing wider and wider. He pressed his hand over his mouth, and she swore she saw tears growing in his eyes. Several minutes passed as he composed himself and refolded the letter.

"Miss Di Angelo," he said quietly, removing his glasses and meeting her eyes, "Hello again, I suppose."

"Professor Dumbledore," she responded, "it's good to see you." Even though she knew it wasn't true, it was hard not to equate Dumbledore with safety. She owed this man her education, her path to the wizarding world. Even if she had spent very little time with him, he was still the one responsible for where she was.

"Do you swear to me it is true?" He said, eyes growing manic, "This letter, nobody but I could have written it. Do you swear to me it contains the truth, that one of my students will grow to become a dark wizard, the likes of which this world has ever seen?"

"I have the scars to prove it. What did the letter tell you?" She leaned forward.

"It told me something only I could ever know, and that you were here from the future, and how complex your life has been and what I must do to aid you. And that you have come to stop Voldemort, whoever they may be."

She nodded, "It's true, all of it."

He shook his head, scanning the letter, "A demigod, he murmured, "How did you get into Hogwarts?" He asked.

"You, sir. You were headmaster, and you contacted me to offer me a place at this school. I assume the gods had something to do with it, but you never told me." She didn't have any other explanation.

Dumbledore nodded, his eyebrows pressed together. He steepled his fingers and looked at her, seeming to see right through her.

"I promise that I will help you in any way I can-but if any harm befalls any of my students I will see to it personally that you are removed from this castle."

Alexa bristled, looking at him with hard eyes, "Out of anyone I know, you've caused the most harm to the students in this castle." She inhaled, forcing herself to be calm, she didn't need to make an enemy out of Albus Dumbledore.

He gave her a look of acute sadness, and inclined his head, acknowledging her.

"I have papers for my entry to Hogwarts, you prepared them yourself," she slid them across the desk to Dumbledore's waiting fingertips.

"I'll arrange them with Armando-Armando Dippet is the current Headmaster," he added. Alexa nodded, aware of this fact. "Will you be staying in the castle?" Dumbledore continued on.

"No," she said, "I'll be staying at the Leaky Cauldron, I have business in London-what's the date?" she added. McGonagall had warned her that time travel was not an exact practice, and that she would only be landing within an approximate boundary.

"August 24th, 1946. Seven days until term starts," he responded.

"I'm just in time then," she gave a small smile.

"Indeed," Dumbledore was pouring over the documents sitting on the table, "You're going to be a transfer from America, and you are the grandchild of an old friend of mine who passed recently. His children are dead," Dumbledore looked at her once more, "Are you familiar with this story?" he asked.

"Yes sir," she responded, "That grandfather was a silent benefactor whom I've never met. I went over it thoroughly."

He nodded, "We'll resort you privately, although I assume your house will remain the same. What house were you in, if I may ask?"

"Slytherin, sir," she answered. She was beginning to get a splitting headache right in her temple and it was growing harder and harder to ignore.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows but nodded, "I'll get this in order. It will be no trouble to get you admitted, Armando has a soft spot a kilometer wide." He smiled, admiration clear in his voice. Alexa noted that but only nodded, smiling.

"Thank you, sir," she said, rising, "I need to get to London. I'll be in the Leaky Cauldron if you need to reach me."

"You'll receive an owl some time today with your school letter. Be careful, Miss Di Angelo."

"I always am," she smiled brightly, and then, because she could, vanished into the shadows right before his eyes.

Her first stop was Gringotts. She exited the shadow in a shady corner of Knockturn Alley and briskly marched through, entering the glistening Diagon Alley. It took her breath away, just as it had the first time she had seen it. It was different, there were shops she didn't recognize, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was obviously missing, as were things she had grown familiar with. Gringotts was, however, much the same as ever. White marble, miles high, and imposing as anything she had ever seen. She pushed through the doors and made her way to the teller's window.

The goblin gave her a look up and down, before sneering asking for her key. Goblins, she suspected, knew she was not just a witch. But, they didn't seem to care what you were, as long as your accounts were in order and you had your key. She had both, thankfully. She went down through the many spiraling passages, and the goblin, whose name he did not tell her, watched her with dark, baleful eyes as she handed him her key and he opened her vault. There were piles and piles of gold inside, more than she could ever count and more than she could ever use. Pluto was the god of wealth found underground. By all accounts, he could be the patron saint of Gringotts. Maybe that's why they never said anything about her lineage. Either way, she scooped up what she would need to buy her books and robes, and put it in a brown pull string sack, and then placed that in her handbag. The goblin led her back to the surface, and on her merry way she went.

She booked a room at the Leaky Cauldron. It seemed she would never know how old the bar-keep Tom truly was, because he was still the bar-keep in this time, and still looked old. Perhaps not as old, but still old.

She stood in the empty room that was to be hers for the next few days. It was impersonal, but cozy, with a fireplace she didn't currently need, and mismatched pillow cases. She removed the trunk from the locket, summoning it with her wand. It landed with an almighty thump on the ground, right at the foot of her bed. She stared at it for a moment. Everything she owned, everything she had, was currently contained in that one trunk. She swallowed, a lump forming in her throat. She needed to keep moving.

She dropped into the shadows and emerged in a dark alley several blocks from the Leaky Cauldron. She had memorized the map to where Tom Riddle would be. She was not at all sure if she was ready to see him. So she squared her shoulders, and concealed herself with shadows. To any passer by, she would be completely invisible. She exited the alley, and stood at once in front of Wool's Orphanage. It was a square building of greying brick, with high railings all around it. She walked through the gate, and straight through the faded front door. The inside surprised her. She had always imagined orphanages as dismal places with malnourished children and wicked managers, but the inside was warm. It was run down, yes, but it was clean, and she could hear the laughter of children echoing through the walls. Two children ran by her, a curly blond haired girl and a giggling boy who was at least a few years younger, and they both looked well fed. Their clothes were mended, second hand surely, but not in any disrepair. She wondered, for a moment, how she was going to search the whole building, when the door opened behind her.

And he heart promptly stopped and it took everything she could to quell the wave of hatred that mounted through her.

Tom Riddle stood in the doorway, backlit by the sun, a look of irritation on his face. He was much like the picture she had. Chestnut hair that fell perfectly somewhere between a wave and a curl, dark eyes that smoldered under a strong brow. His jaw was defined, his lips looked like they had been carved by an artist. He was handsome, but there was something ruthless in the way he held himself. He seemed tight, coiled. Like at any second he was expecting somebody to attack him, and he was ready to respond with deadly force. It unsettled her, especially when his eyes landed on where she stood, for just the briefest second too long. The children from earlier, who had been absolutely ecstatic with themselves, stopped short, peeking out from another room as Tom looked around.

She wasn't afraid of him, she found. Not like she had been afraid of Voldemort at least. She had some power over him, even if he didn't know it. And that was a comfort to her.

He slipped his shoes off, and made his way up the stairs, practically jogging in his haste to get wherever it was he was going. Alexa took off after him, following him up several flights of stairs until finally they reached a small landing, with only a single door at the far end of it. Alexa was sure this must be the attic, and could not fathom what business he had in there.

But he opened the door and it was a small bedroom. There was a twin bed with a grey blanket on one side, with a desk on the opposite wall. There was a tiny window on the wall between the two, under which sat a bookshelf. It was crammed full of tattered copies of classics she recognized. Jane Austen, Shakespeare, and Dickens. Apparently, Voldemort was well read.

As soon as the door shut behind him, he relaxed. The tension fell out of his shoulders, and he dropped his shoes at the foot of his bed. He walked over to the tiny desk, and she noticed that it had a book under one of the legs to keep it steady. He picked up a quill, dipped it in ink, and scratched something off on a piece of paper that was pinned to the wall. Upon closer inspection she found it to be a hand drawn calendar, counting down the days until September first.

He sighed, "Just a few more days," he murmured. She was struck by the sound of his voice. She knew, logically, that it would not be the same as the one she had known in the future, but he sounded so...normal. Everything about him seemed so horrendously normal. She was surprised, however, by his accent. It was thick, and very much east end London. It had a warm, rounded sound that she had never quite gotten used to hearing. It reminded her of the chimney sweeps from Mary Poppins, although she knew they were highly inaccurate.

He kneeled on the floor then, flipping up the threadbare rug in the center of the room to reveal worn floorboards. With some careful jiggling, Riddle dislodged one of the boards and withdrew a black, leather bound book. He set it carefully beside him, and then pulled out a second object. His wand.

Alexa flinched back, despite herself. He wasn't going to hurt her, he didn't know she was there. He looked at it longingly, running thin fingers over its length, before sighing once more and setting it back into the floorboards with particular care.

"Soon," he repeated. He picked up the book, and Alexa suddenly recognized it. It was the diary she had seen in McGonagall's office. The one Harry Potter had destroyed years ago. It would become a Horcrux. Did he actually use it as a diary? He sat down at the desk, opening the book and once again picking up his quill. Curiosity winning over her immense desire to stay as far away from him as physically possible, she crept closer and peeked over his shoulder.

Work was awful again, it would be so much easier with magic. All muggles do is toil about, but for what?

His writing was neat and elegant, and pristine. He did use the book as a diary. She would need to gain access to that. Perhaps she could steal the book long enough to duplicate it. She had seen enough, she decided. She would have to meet him sooner rather than later. But, she checked her watch, at least she knew he came back from work at approximately four. She slipped away, and appeared back in her room at the Leaky Cauldron.