Important Author's Note (please read!): First, I really want to thank everyone who has read, reviewed, fav'd etc. my story so far. I really appreciate your support; it helps me to keep going and inspires me to write more :)

Before I say anything else, I need to tell my readers that this chapter is VERY dark, containing explicit material. It merits an M rating. Reader discretion is advised. This is a turning point in the story; a turn for the worse I'm afraid...you have been warned. Please take this warning seriously.

All that aside, I hope you have enjoyed the story so far and that you enjoy this chapter, as dark as it is. There is not much more to go with this story, it is nearly finished. Please read and review, it makes me happy :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

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CHAPTER 6: Possession

Anya gazed out of her window at the disconcerting view before her. The once clear sky had darkened with ferocious storm clouds. They blocked the stars and moon and seemed to be edging closer by the second. Something awful was going to happen; she could sense it. She knew that she must not delay.

With haste, she bustled about the room, taking some dresses from the wardrobe and ripping the dark sheets off of her bed. She folded the dresses and a few sheets, tying another sheet around them and then continued to search the expanse of the room. Anya was going to attempt an escape from this beautiful yet terrifying place that had become a prison, a living hell.

She knew that she would not get another opportunity like this one. Both Riddle and the others weren't in the house, as far as she could tell. She hadn't heard a sound since he left, and that had been nearly four hours ago. They must be up to something horrible, she thought as she slung the sheets and dresses over her shoulder and left the room. Anya did not want to take any risks, so she walked quietly and listened carefully for any signs of others in the manor. Tom Riddle was not a man foolish enough to leave her on her own in this place, there had to be a catch…

At last she made her way into the spacious kitchen, grabbing a large loaf of bread and some dried fruits from the pantry and placing them into her makeshift suitcase. She was about to run through the front door to freedom when she suddenly realized: the compass!

Anya could not bring herself to leave without it; she'd rather it be anywhere else than in the hands of Riddle. She knew exactly where to look; it had to be in his study. Having only seen him in it once, she scrutinized the dark hallways, looking for any sign of familiarity. The establishment was so grand and indulgent in every aspect that after a while everything started looking the same, each room and hallway more overwhelmingly luxurious than the last.

After an exhausting search, she finally found the room she was looking for. With haste, she tore up the room, ripping books off the shelves, looking for obscure hiding places, tearing curtains and upholstery, opening every single drawer she could find. Anya was so immersed in her investigation that she did not notice the dark figure of a woman creeping up behind her…

Desdemona's dark eyes glittered with malice and disgust at the scene before her. She had secretly stayed behind, hoping to find some time where she and her Lord would be alone together…but now this is what she had found instead! This filthy Muggle was profaning this place with her presence, putting her dirty hands all over the Dark Lord's most important things! She deftly pulled her wand out of her robes and pointed it at the girl.

"Stop!" Desdemona bellowed, her body shaking with anger. Startled, Anya dropped the papers she had been fiddling with and turned around, her body paralyzed with fear.

"Just what do you think you are doing? How dare you dirty this sacred place!"Desdemona screamed at the top of her lungs. Her eyes darted to the sack of clothes, sheets, and food that lay a few feet away from the terrified girl. Her thin lips twisted into a cruel smile.

"Running away, eh? I shouldn't stop you then…No one wants you gone as much as I do," she said quietly. "And yet here you stand, entering a room where even the Dark Lord's most devoted followers are not allowed…and defiling it! "

Anya could do nothing more than stare at the insane woman before her, at a loss for words and unable to move.

"After what you've done, I cannot let you just get away. The Dark Lord will reward me well when he sees that your meddlesome self has been disposed of! But before I end your worthless life, how about a little dose of pain?" she spat. She raised her wand, ready to perform a most unforgivable curse, when suddenly the door burst open.

"May I ask what all of the commotion is about, ladies?" said a familiar soft voice. Anya felt a jolt in her stomach. It was Tom Riddle.

He stepped through the doorway, his wand held out in front of him. Surprisingly, it was pointed directly at Desdemona. He was not looking at Anya. She thought that she saw a trace of loathing in his eyes. A look of complete admiration crossed Desdemona's face as she lowered her wand and turned around to face him.

"My Lord…" she murmured, bowing low.

"Get up," he said firmly, his wand still pointed at her. "What exactly are you doing?" Desdemona looked slightly taken aback.

"My Lord, I caught the filthy Muggle breaking into your study. She was looking for someth—"

"I believe I told you and the others to never enter this room unless I gave specific permission. I am most displeased, Desdemona. You have disobeyed me," he said quietly.

"Please, my Lord, I would not have entered if I hadn't heard noises. Please forgive me, my Lord," she said, falling to the floor and groveling at his feet. He kicked her swiftly in the jaw and she cried out in pain, falling backwards and clutching her bloody mouth.

"No!" cried Anya. The woman writhed on the floor while Tom stood over her.

"Nothing you say, Desdemona, will redeem this. I impose very few laws on my followers, and yet you have broken the most important one. Not only this, but you were attempting to kill and torture my most important asset…" as Tom said those last few words, his dark eyes drifted slowly to Anya's hazel ones.

"What? Her?" shouted Desdemona as she struggled to stand up. "She is a filthy Muggle! She means nothing!"

"This woman means more to me than you ever have or ever will, Desdemona," he said with a relish as he slowly walked across the room towards Anya. He was enjoying toying with Desdemona. In his mind, her usefulness was nearly used up. She had become nothing more than a bother to him. He might as well make the most of these next few minutes before…

Desdemona turned her face slowly towards the pair, watching as Tom seized Anya around the waist and pulled her close towards him, his mouth colliding with hers. Anya struggled as hard as she could, tearing at his hands fruitlessly, trying to push him away, but he was too strong. This was a kiss to assert pure dominance and nothing more. When at last he broke it, Anya looked desperately at Desdemona, and was shocked to see that her face was no longer angry or deranged. In her eyes she saw nothing but the utmost sadness and despair. She looked as if her very heart had been broken in two.

"Let me go!" screamed Anya, and surprisingly he released her. She looked again at Desdemona, who continued to stare at Tom. His eyes were filled with a sick pleasure as he stared back; he knew exactly what he was doing to her, and he was enjoying it.

"There is much that you are ignorant of, Desdemona. I shall spare you the details, since they would only perplex your already irreparable mental state. Let's just say that this woman's blood is worth infinitely more than yours, and that is saying something, my dear, since she was raised as a Muggle!" Tom spat, drawing nearer to the crouching woman. Anya did not register his foreboding words, as her eyes were transfixed on Desdemona.

She was clearly unstable, and yet Anya could see that beneath her wild appearance there was the portrait of a once beautiful woman. She could not have been much older than Anya. In her eyes she saw something familiar; she had clearly had a difficult life, she too had been unappreciated, her dreams and innocence crushed at an early age. She was a victim of her environment, easily brainwashed and driven to insanity by her pitiful situation. Anya saw parts of herself in this woman; this woman was something that she could have become, and for that reason she felt an impulse to help her.

"I have had enough of your intrusions into my business, Desdemona. You used to be my most prized and devoted follower, but you have turned into a simpering, meddling imbecile…Crucio!" he yelled, his wand pointed directly at her heart. Desdemona writhed and twisted beneath him, emitting screams of agony.

"STOP! LEAVE HER ALONE!" screamed Anya and she lunged at Tom, trying to wrench the wand from his grasp. With a flick of his wand she was easily pushed away, but in the process he mistakenly removed the curse. He smirked at Anya, but turned quickly back to Desdemona, who was still struggling to stand up. He observed her difficulty with amusement until at last she was on her feet.

She panted heavily, not bothering to stop the blood that poured from her mouth, her body bent over in defeat. Anya stared in horror, wanting to do something, anything, but she couldn't move. At last, Desdemona turned her face upwards to meet Tom's cruel gaze. Her face was streaked with tears and blood. When she spoke, her voice was soft, calm, and determined, sounding nothing like the yelling and wailing that Anya had heard so often.

"No matter what you say or do to me, and no matter how much you hurt me, I am and always will be your most loyal servant. You are my life…I would do anything for you. I would die for you…I love you, Tom," and she reached out a pale, trembling hand to him. He looked at her, considered her for a moment, and then there was a flash of scarlet in his dark eyes.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" he shouted triumphantly, his voice strangely high and cold. A blinding jet of green light erupted from the tip of his wand and hit Desdemona squarely in the heart. The force of the spell knocked her backwards, her hand still outstretched, and she skidded a few feet on the cold wooden floor. Desdemona's black eyes no longer glittered, but still held the same look of utter tragedy and despair. She was dead.

The scream of horror never left Anya; she was in too much shock to do anything more than stare at Desdemona's crumpled corpse. Suddenly she felt a strong hand grasp her upper arm and then she was being dragged away from the horrible sight. He moved her along firmly, but not roughly, for Tom did not want to damage his now most prized possession. They made their way through many long, elaborate hallways until they finally reached the room that Tom deemed the best for this occasion: the drawing room. He opened the door and pushed her inside.

It had to be the largest room in the house, and its luxury and grandeur surpassed that of any of the other rooms Anya had seen. A beautiful crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, its many candles glowing intensely. She barely had time to take in her surroundings when Tom suddenly spoke.

"What a foolish woman. She became something so pathetic and weak. Now you see, Anya, what happens when one is foolish enough to believe in this so-called love," he said mockingly. He turned to Anya and looked straight into her eyes.

"Love has no power," he said coldly. The look on his face truly frightened Anya. It was inhuman and merciless…filled with hunger.

"You're a murderer…" whispered Anya. He continued to stare unblinkingly into her eyes, smiling cruelly.

"Haven't we already established that?" he chuckled, and motioned to a comfortable-looking chair situated a few feet away from her. "Won't you sit down? We have much to talk about."

"You're a murderer," she repeated, more loudly.

"I request that you sit down," he said firmly as he raised his wand. Anya felt an invisible force pushing her down into the seat. She sank into the cushions and her arms became invisibly bound to the armrests; she struggled uselessly against the force binding her. He took a seat in another chair across from her, his long fingers twirling his wand absentmindedly.

"I have many things to speak with you about, my dear…but first, a little background information. Do you notice anything unusual in this room?" he gestured around the room, and Anya looked around gasping when her eyes fell on a very interesting painting.

It appeared to be a painting of Tom Riddle, sitting in what looked like the very room they were in, on the very same chair he was sitting in now. There were two other people in it, a man and a woman, standing next to the chair. They looked older…his parents? The woman was clenching the back of the chair, looking rather stiff. The older man looked as if he had been very successful in life, although possibly by not the most honest of means. She looked more closely at the man sitting in the chair.

"Is that…you?" she said quietly, looking back at Tom. He laughed quietly and threw a quick glance at the painting.

"No, that is not me…although we look very much alike, don't we?" he spoke with slight resentment in his voice. Anya looked back at the painting and studied it more closely.

The man sat squarely in the center of the chair, his arms resting nonchalantly on the armrests. He looked as equally arrogant as his father, if not more so. He was extremely handsome, with wavy black hair, dark eyes, and pale skin. Although he seemed to give off a similar confident vibe, Anya could tell that he did not possess the same ambition and desire for power as Tom Riddle. He appeared to be nearly the same age as him, but was still quite content to live with his parents and enjoy the luxurious surroundings he was born into. His stance on the chair indicated that he had no plan to leave this comfortable life anytime soon.

"The man in the chair is my father. He was also called Tom Riddle. Those are my grandparents. I never knew their names, they died before I had a chance to find out," Tom said quietly. Anya was shocked to see that he was smiling slightly. He looked back at her and leaned in closer.

"I believe I already explained to you about magic…my mother was a witch who fell in love with a Muggle, a non-magical person, Tom Riddle. They married, but he abandoned her when he found out what she was. My father was a fool, blinded by his own ignorance," he paused; his voice had begun to shake with anger. Anya stared at him intently, frightened by but deeply involved in his story.

"I was born in a Muggle orphanage in London; my mother died giving birth to me. She named me Tom, after my father, and Marvolo, after her father, with Riddle as my surname. For my entire childhood I wondered about my unusual name. They told me my father was still alive. When I found out I was a wizard I assumed that he must have been one too…but I was wrong. Imagine how shocked and disappointed I was to find out that this pathetic excuse for a man was my father!" he said angrily, pointing at the painting. Tom realized he was beginning to lose control. He mentally regained composure and continued more calmly.

"This room is unusual in more ways than one, Anya," his mouth twisted itself into a cruel smile. "This is the very room where I murdered my worthless father and grandparents nearly five years ago."

Anya's large eyes widened; she gasped as her hands flew to her mouth in shock.

"It turns out that they were quite unpopular. No great loss to Little Hangleton, from what I could gather. Who knows, I may have done the whole village a favor that night," he laughed quietly, enjoying the look of utter horror on Anya's face.

"Tom…how could you?" she whispered. His eyes narrowed, she realized it was a stupid thing to say.

"How could I? Quite easily, Anya," he paused for a few moments, as if reflecting on a memory. Suddenly he threw her an icy stare, "And you shall never call me by that name again. I'd hope that you would realize this yourself, after hearing my little story. Surely you didn't think that I would keep the name of that useless man who abandoned me before I was born?"

At once he stood up from the chair, turned away from her, and began to write in the air with his wand. Three shimmering, emerald green words appeared before her:

Tom Marvolo Riddle

He waved his wand again and the letters began to move, rearranging themselves to form four words that sent a chill down Anya's spine:

I am Lord Voldemort

The words faded in the air and he turned back towards her, a triumphant look on his face. Anya stared at where the words had been, her mouth agape. It was all becoming clear to her now; this was why the others in the house never called him by his name, why they appeared to be more of followers than friends, and why he had attacked her village...

Tom Riddle was evil.

"It cannot be true…" murmured Anya. All of this was too much for her to take. It couldn't be real. "Magic" couldn't exist. All of those people could not have died. This was just another nightmare, she was sure of it.

"It is the truth," he said quietly, edging ominously closer to her.

"It cannot be real. It does not exist,"

"Magic exists, Anya," he moved closer still.

"I don't believe you," she whispered, meeting his eyes.

"If it wasn't real, I wouldn't be able to do…this," she felt the tip of his wand touch her forehead. She screamed.

She saw Tom Riddle on the morning she'd met him, his eyes boring into hers. It became night, a dark figure appeared in front of her, pushing her to the ground. She saw her aunt shooing away customers; the store had closed. Then she saw herself as a child. The entire fabric store suddenly caught fire; everything was burning. Smoke filled her lungs briefly, she heard screaming, and then it stopped. Everything went black. Anya opened her eyes.

She was sprawled on the floor, panting heavily. Tom stood over her, his expression looked surprisingly shocked, as if he had encountered something he had not expected. And then he smiled, his eyes widening.

"This proves it, Anya. You are a witch and you cannot deny it now. That fire was no accident…you did it," he paused, "with magic." He reached down and seized her upper arm, pulling her up from the floor.

"This brings up another very important point, my dear. But first I have another tale to tell you," he flicked his wand and she was forced back into the chair. He sat down across from her again, his pose very similar to his father's in the painting.

"Nearly one thousand years ago, four of the greatest witches and wizards came together to form a school of magic called Hogwarts. Our kind was freely hunted and persecuted in those times, and this school was designed as a safe haven for its students, who could practice and learn magic in peace. The four founders names were Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, and even today those are the names of the four houses," he said rather quickly. Anya stared at him, trying to wrap her head around all that he had just told her and struggling to recover from the complete violation of her mind.

"All that aside, the important point is this. I attended Hogwarts in my youth, and during the time I was there, I discovered that I was the true heir of Slytherin, the greatest of the Hogwarts four, through my mother's side," he laughed a strangely high and cold laugh.

"Have you put two and two together, Anya?" he said as he pulled out the golden compass from his pocket. Anya gasped…Gryffindor.

"Then that compass belongs to…" she trailed off.

"Yes, one of the four founders of Hogwarts. It is quite a valuable artifact," said Tom quietly, his eyes greedily fixed on the compass.

"But how could my family have ever gotten it?" said Anya more to herself than him. He smirked, leaning in very close to her. Her eyes widened as he pushed a tendril of her hair behind her ear. It was a disturbing gesture.

"Because, Anya, you are the heir of Gryffindor," he murmured, his face only inches away from hers.

Anya felt sick. She knew nothing about magic; no history, spells, or names; but he had proved to her that it was real. All of those people and her entire village were murdered because of it…she was imprisoned in this place because of it. She knew nothing about who Gryffindor was, but discovering that she was his heir made her feel vulnerable, afraid, and in danger, for the look in Riddle's eyes truly terrified her.

He pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment from his pocket and showed her a copy of the same family tree that Borgin had kept so carefully and secretly in his shop. Anya saw her name unmistakably written in shining black ink. When she had gotten a long look at the proof of her noble lineage, he pocketed it and once more stared intensely into her eyes, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. It appeared that this room would become quite useful to him once more…

"How ironic it is that Gryffindor and Slytherin were enemies; if they could have only known then what their heirs would accomplish…" he trailed off. Anya shivered as his long fingers lightly grazed her face, pausing over her lips. He traced them slowly with his fingers.

"Together, Anya, we can rule the entire magical world. The power of two heirs is unstoppable. We will eliminate all who we deem unworthy: Mudbloods, filth, ignorance. Even the Muggles will know our power. In their world we were treated like dirt, forced to grow up in horrible conditions, thought of as freaks, bullied, our dreams crushed at an early age…we will make them pay," his eyes unmistakably flashed scarlet, Anya leapt up, her magical bonds were strangely broken; she had briefly overcome his magic with her own. She stared down at him with shock and disgust, her eyes glittering with fiery resolve.

"You're a monster," she spat, "You torture and kill…I would rather die than join you!" she yelled, her voice strong and determined. Tom looked at her with amusement, fascinated by her sudden bravery. This was no longer the meek, submissive Anya that he had become so accustomed to. She had to be put in her proper place. He stood up suddenly and before she could react, seized her by the shoulders and slammed her against the wall. She cried out in shock and pain as stars danced before her eyes. He quickly pulled out his wand and jabbed it underneath her chin, pushing her face upwards to his. There was a loud flash of lightening, a deep rumble of thunder, and the intense sound of pouring rain as it hit the windows loudly. A violent storm had started; the ominous clouds that Anya had seen earlier had finally reached them.

"You will serve me, Anya…whether you want to or not," he said coolly. He stared devilishly into her eyes. It was time for the snake to strike.

He forced his mouth down on hers. Her cry was muffled and she tried to close her lips against him. He seized her wrists painfully, bruising the soft skin. She cried out in pain, which allowed his tongue to plunge deeply into her mouth. Teeth and tongues scraped against each other and she struggled vainly against him. He continued downwards, licking her neck as he seized the front of her dress and tore it in half with a loud ripping noise. Anya screamed and struggled harder than ever against him, but he only moved closer, pressing himself against her, obstructing her breath and movements.

He pushed the dress off of her, his hands moving deftly until all other clothing was removed and she stood naked before him. He eyed her hungrily as she shivered with fear and coldness. Tom felt himself hardening, extremely aroused by her fear. He seized her arm and threw her onto the couch with a soft thud. Before she could move, he waved his wand and she became immobile once more. Anya was used to this spell by now and she could only lie there motionless as he began to slowly remove his clothing. He smirked as he revealed himself fully to her; her eyes widened in fear.

He climbed on top of her, his mouth claiming hers once more. He slid his cool hands from her stomach to her breasts, beginning to slowly touch and tease them. Anya tried to stifle a moan as he trailed his tongue from her cleavage up to her neck. Her body was betraying her; he was forcing her to react to his cruel touch. She whimpered as he took a nipple into his mouth and began to suck greedily. One hand trailed down her body, reaching her moistening core. Anya gasped as he rubbed and teased her without mercy. She felt unwanted wetness at her opening and her face burned in shame.

After what seemed like endless torture, he slid a long finger inside of her, forcing it in and out of her roughly. His touch was no longer gentle. He was deliberately hurting her, eventually adding another finger and slowly scraping them against her; this was her punishment for disobeying him. She cried out in pain and he harshly removed them, suddenly leaning in very close to her until she felt his breath on her ear.

"You are mine, heir of Gryffindor," he said in Parseltongue. Anya shuddered at the strange hissing noises. They seemed to reverberate within her; they turned her blood to ice. Then she screamed as she felt something long and hard invade her body.

His thrusts were quick and cruel; rough and selfish. Her back arched, the pain was sharp like a knife as she was forcefully stretched to accommodate Tom's large size. His moans were low and guttural; he was focused only on his own pleasure and dominance over the whimpering girl. His eyes burned into hers and he grinned evilly as he continued, their bodies slamming together.

He brought one hand down and began to rub her relentlessly. She gasped at the pleasurable sensations, shuddering as she felt him lick her neck. He did not stop his touch, and she began to feel pleasure at his thrusts as he penetrated her deeper than ever before. Their breathing became faster, their bodies moving in tandem. Anya was close to reaching her peak. She tried to resist him, tried to fight the unwanted pleasure, but to no avail.

Anya screamed as her forced orgasm ripped through her body. She convulsed and clenched around him. Tom gasped, shuddering as he spilled himself inside her. She felt his burning essence fill her up; she felt sick, dirty, and violated.

Their eyes met, the dark eyes above her gleamed scarlet…and the world dissolved around her into darkness.

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