Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. My ideas. Her world.

Chapter 1 Dream of the Red Chamber

..."What if I am in Slytherin?..."Albus Severus...you were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably one of the bravest man I ever knew"...The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well...

"Or so he hopes," she bemused, or maybe even she does. It was most likely a wonderful dream for him, but a predestined prophecy for her. It is now the only thing that matters, that all she can do is to hold on to him and make sure that what she had envisioned come true. She paced slowly in her room. The faded wooden floorboards creaked eerily in the night. The trees waved languidly in the winds. A strong breeze came in through the tiny window. The candlelight danced wildly in the ominous breeze. She shivered slightly and closed the old cracked window. A large spider quickly scampered away as the cobwebs are broken.

It was a familiar room; one that she has inhabited all her life. Yet, as strange as it sounds, it all seemed terribly far away. It was as if she is leading another life; one that is completely foreign. She shivered and crossed her arms around herself shielding her from the cold. Her luxurious hair gleamed brightly under golden candlelight. She looked like a vision. One comparable to an illustrious Greek goddess or an ethereal fallen angel, maybe even a dangerously alluring demon. Her dark eyes pierced the small cracked mirror above her single floral bed. She lips curved into a devious smile, pleased with her reflection. Her looks have always been above average, prettier than most girls around her age, especially her, that imperturbable mudblood. Anyways, with a bit of help from him, she looks absolutely irresistible. All the boys she met and seduced has thought so. They were all so easy to manipulate, they melted like a pygmy puff cream in her palm. They were all so willing and eager to be seduced. Her petite body and her long hair and dark alluring eyes and voluptuous lips are all irresistible to mortal (and once immortal) wizards.

Even Bellatrix, the sadistic beauty was envious of her special relationship with the dark lord. "Who would have her, when they could have me?" she bit her lips and smiled venomously. Her tongue slithered temptingly along her pink voluptuous lips. Bellatrix could never hope to have what she could with the dark lord. As if she already didn't know. She could plead her loyalty and devotion and beg for his attention all she wants. She can offer her tainted and diseased body to him, and let him use her like a trashy ragged doll over and over to appease his insatiable appetite. He doesn't love necessarily, but he loves to feel powerful, to dominate and humiliate her inferiority, to torture her with immense pleasure intermixed with overwhelming pain. To see her in such a vile state, to defile her in such a vulgar way, to reduce her to a slave begging, bruised and bleeding, barely human, much less wizard. He loves to see people at their most weakened and vulnerable state. It makes him feel all the more powerful and superior.

But really, what Bellatrix gave him cannot even compare to what she can. What is the ultimate sacrifice if you're willing to share your soul? The pretty witch smiled darkly. "She could never bond with him the way I can and already have." He was always inside of her, guiding her, leading her. When the dark lord first intruded her fragile body many years ago, she felt such a stir of dark desire of power and immortality. At once, she was addicted. Her immature and fragile mind and body was filled with coolness and confidence. Her movements are light and agile, almost like an adoring baby serpent. Her body developed curves like a serpentine in all the right places. Her movements are so fluid and smooth; she literally glides as she walks across the corridors. He made her feel powerful and strong. She made him feel alive for the first time in over a decade. Lucky for her, he hasn't tired of her the way he was of all his other servants. Unlike with Quirrell, the dark lord did not treat her as an artificial appendage. He gained entrance inside of her very existence. He molded himself into her mind and soul. He was just apart of her the way she was apart of him. Unlike with Wormtail, the Dark Lord cherished her existence. He needs her to give him a corporeal body that pathetic whimpering fool Wormtail could not. Whereas he is disgusted with Wormtail, he is charmed by her presence. She is his favorite pet, even more so than Nagini. He makes powerful evil to her soul. She is his last hope.

At first, she had tried to fight it. This foreign feeling of coolness and confidence was so unlike her old self. Whereas she was shy and meek, he was strong and collected. Whereas she was timid and fragile, he was daring and full of nerve. It was like drowning in a cauldron of honeydukes best dark chocolate; aromatic, sweet, alluring, overwhelming, with a touch of bitterness and acidity, especially if she tried to challenge his authority. The more you try to fight his control, the more addictive his power became. He grew fast inside of her like a sprouting whomping willow; stronger and stronger everyday, eviscerating her old memories and her old self. She was drowning inside his strength and power. He invaded every piece of her mind and her body. All of her memories, her feelings, and her unrequited crush...gone and forgotten. Afterall, he, Tom Riddle had been her first and only true soulmate. There can be no one else. He made sure of that.

He was as possessive of her as he would all of his horcruxes. She was valuable to him, at least her body was for the time being. Apart of her feels that she is forever enslaved to him. Her mind and body had been chained to him for a long time. He gave her brief rewards, especially when it comes to the Boy-who-lived. She was lucky as he was obsessed about him in a way that mirrored her own; although for a different purpose entirely. He was eager to learn about him, befriend him, get close to him, in such a way that Dumbledore would never notice. He made sure she stayed hidden for as long as Dumbledore was strong and powerful, watchful over Hogwarts like an annoying old night owl. Then, when the time comes, when Dumbledore was severely weakened by the cursed Gaunt family ring, when Dumbledore was too weak and too incapacitated to watch over Hogwarts, then she would strike.

She would make the boy-who-lived like any other boy she had before. She made sure he wouldn't know what hit him. She went out with other boys just to make him jealous. None of them mattered, they were merely an excuse for him to notice her. She made him want her, lust after her, dream about her, night after night. She made him desire her in a way that he had never thought about girls before. Merlin's beard, she knew about his chest monster and other...nightly exertions. She grinned wickedly. As if she didn't know what goes on in his mind. She knew what he desired was definitely not in his chest. After all, a boy his age, a girl with her looks. What more can there be? Boys, they are all the same. Famous or Infamous.

After that disastrous short-lived affair with that human hose-pipe Chang, she made sure he knew what being with a real women was all about. It would've occurred even sooner, had that bushy-haired know-it-all Hogwarts-a-History on legs hadn't interfered. She despised her almost as much as she feared her. Her remarkable mind, her inquisitive nature, and her strong desire to protect the Potter boy served as a great impediment. He made sure to take her out early on with a well placed long lasting Imperius curse. A curse so imperceptible that even she didn't know she was under it. Only a very powerful wizard can cast a spell as strong and effective as that one, and of course, she is one. Of course, there was the usual side-effects of emotional instability and temporary insanity, but that can be attributed to a normal witch's growth and puberty. Plus, they never said the Granger girl wasn't out of her mind, especially when it comes to her precious Harry.

Harry, Harry, Harry...that's all she thinks about. She doesn't think anyone knows. I don't even think she knows how much she thinks about him, cares for him. It makes me sick. It takes a powerful Legimens to read her mind. Not that she has mastered Occlumency, quite yet, but a slight probe into her mind, she would immediate know. She would then try to fight it instinctively. It would become more difficult to read her mind the next time. Dumbledore knows, so do I. Even that overgrown bat Snape doesn't know. His mind is not yet powerful enough to venture inside someone else's undetected. They would always suspect or try to block him out, making it more difficult for him to find the truth. But, even then, I suspect he knows something. The way he sneers at the two of them, he tried to coated it with snide remarks, but underneath it all, the poor bastard actually sympathizes a lot with that bushy haired bookworm. How could he not, he himself was in the same position at that age with that mudblood Evans.

He begged me not to harm her. I almost relented. She was decent looking for a mudblood, but more importantly, if I wanted to control Snape, if I wanted any leverage over him, then I cannot harm that girl Evans. If I cannot have his absolute loyalty, then I would at least settle for absolute obedience, even if it is under coercion and constant threat. Evans was a great bargaining knut. Snape was as devoted to her as that mudblood Granger was to Potter. Teenage angst. Too bad their efforts are both futile. Evans ended up marrying the elder more annoying useless prick Potter and died a tragic young death. The younger Potter belongs to me or us should I say. I wanted his body, he wanted his mind.

Every single occasion Potter and I were together, he shows up in the background, much to my discomfort, orchestrating the whole affair. And with a cool sneer of superiority, he tells me how to please him, how to do and say just the thing to make Potter yearn for more. It was unpleasant at first, but I grew to trust his instincts. Afterall he is a powerful Legimens and an experienced lover; his sultry voice in the back of my mind guided my agile fingers with smooth expertise which pleasured Potter immensely. Who in turn returned his affections with raw passion and boyish enthusiasm. Seeing him in such a heightened state of excitement gives me a surge of pleasure. I alone, was the only girl so far to give him that much pleasure, along with that much pain of unfulfilled want and desire. Pity the filthy mudblood can't do what I can. Not even close. I can sense her hurt. She tries to brush it off as hormones and confusion. She even fooled herself into loving that laughable gluttonous buffoon of a best friend. It's no use. Her mind subconsciously always drifts back to Harry. She is hurt many times by his cluelessness. Who can blame him? Who would want her, when he can have me? She may care for him for all she can, but I have his body now and I will have his soul.

I hissed wantonly with desire as my sensual body slithered artfully on top of him. A thin layer of sweat beaded tightly on his thin muscular frame. His eyes darkened as his mind clouded with unfulfilled desires. I grinned wickedly like a Cheshire cat. Between the two of them and my new body's unusual sensitive nature, I was almost taken above and beyond the veil in multiple occasions. Droplets of sweat dampened my cool smooth skin. My skin tingles and all my senses are overwhelmed. Every nerve ending on my smooth soft silky skin fired continuously from every whisper to every caress. The room fills with a smell of wild flowers, damp grassy lawn, and something faintly pungent smelling, very old and sticky. I almost fainted with bouts of unfulfilled pleasure from these tireless trysts. I gave a low seductive hiss. My body writhed and rolled wildly as I struggled to regain control of myself. I cannot lose control. Lord Voldemort has not given me permission to lose control with the Potter boy. Every encounter is built towards the master plan, the greater good. I can now almost empathize with Bellatrix. He always tortures her to the point of no return, but never let her succumb to her deepest bodily desires. He leaves her panting and begging for mercy, for some release, but dangles the forbidden fruit just a bit out of her reach. It is time for Potter to learn such cruelty. Only then, can he fully commit to me, to us.

Lord Voldemort is a powerful wizard. He leads his army with dark arts of seduction and promise of worldly rewards. Of course, the constant threat of fear, death, and destruction always co-exist. He understands the most basic human desires more than anyone. He seduces some with promise of unlimited power, others with unlimited galleons, and Harry with bodily passion and desires, which he mistakes as love. I laughed. It's like I was made for this role, to bridge Harry to Tom. The sheer opposing but equally polarizing energy from two powerful wizards left me drained and wanting at the same time. Afterwards, Harry, confused as ever, would only blush clueless with faint embarrassment, whereas Tom would laugh tauntingly about how easy it was to manipulate Potter. He enjoys seeing Potter in the same defenseless state he enjoyed tormenting Bellatrix. He wants to see them at their most vulnerable and unguarded state. It makes him feel all powerful to know that he can reduce them to a simpering fool whereas he maintains in control with cool composure. I succumbed to the dark seduction of it all.

Where was once my conscience now resides a deep dark desire to please them. Harry with my body, and Tom with my soul. Tom never let's me get as far as I want with Harry. After all, Tom said, the secret to capturing men's interest is to lure him as far as you can without giving in. He doesn't want Harry to think I was a scarlet harlot. After all, Tom has greater goals for us than a few stolen moments by the lake or a few scandalous romps in a broom cupboard. The three of us are meant to achieve great things; we were meant to change the wizard world entirely, bringing a new era to wizarding society. Perhaps we should be renamed the golden trio instead. My tongue slipped furtively into his mouth and explored his warm dark cavern. A burst of sensation encompassed me as I shivered in ecstasy and tossed my wild mane; a familiar flowery smell intermingled with our senses. The dense aroma seemed to excite him further as his hands snaked down my curvy body. My body writhed and rolled in excitement as my tongue flickered in anticipation. This is way too much. My newfound senses are so much more powerful than any mortal wizard's. Defying the faint whispers and disapproval in the back of my head, I arched my limber body against Harry's, nimbly gliding past his smooth muscular chest and toned abdomen, boldly wanting to venture further to a place he and I had never explored...yet.

"Stop!" an angry hiss came from the back of my mind. I recoiled suddenly in shock and fear. The moment is broken. Harry as if waking up from a spell pushed me abruptly off his body. The flowery smell dissipated as Harry shook his head in confusion. I hissed in retaliation. I was so close to getting what I wanted. Neither Harry or Tom would ever allow me to go further. Harry, I assumed was being noble for some stupid reason, whereas Tom had his hidden agenda about the future of the wizarding world, or the Greater Good. Funny, that almost sounds like something Dumbledore would say.

The old fool is known to be cautious, meticulous, best wizard of the century, Order of Merlin First Class. Yet his biggest downfall is his noble spirit. He sees the good in everyone. Believes that all creatures are kind, humane, foolish and easy to manipulate through his tireless speeches and empty words of encouragement and optimism about the humankind. She must hand it to him, though, he had his ways. His soldiers are as blind and brainwashed as those suffering from the infamous Imperius curse. There are those willing to kill for him like Snape, and those who are even more idiotic who are willing to die for him like Potter.

A strong breeze escaped from the tiny crack in the bedroom window. The midnight air felt chilly. The dim candlelight flickered precariously. Death. The ultimate end to that foolish old man and those who followed his cause. He died painfully, suffering from months of poison from the ring, damaged severely by the demented potion from the cavern, betrayed by his students, killed by his faculty. What a horrible way to go. I laughed mirthlessly. And all this, for nothing. I wondered cruelly what he felt at that very moment as he flew down the Astronomy Tower. Perhaps like this? "Avada Kedavra!" I hissed, a shot of green light flashed as the candlelight flickered wildly before going out. The spider at the windowsill stopped moving at once. Darkness. Death.