Harry Potter smells of the fresh night air, sun dried sheets, broom cleaning kits and a little of sweet pollens. He has always smelled this way, when we first met in Madam Malkin's before our first year, and now in our fifth year. Oh, how Harry's smell intoxicates all my senses to the very brink of insanity.

At eleven I had still known with my veelan senses and culture that I had to have him all to myself. I remember crying on the way home because my mother would not go searching for the little boy with the messy black hair and broken glasses. I went to bed without dinner, as my father was not very pleased with my childish fit.

On the train I was full of excitement, my boy was on as well, he was starting Hogwarts too. I had to find him with his untidy head of hair and big green eyes. Nevertheless well on my search I had gotten drift that Harry Potter was on board and was also starting his first year. I was determined that I had to meet him. Strutting to the compartment he was said to be in I slid the door open with my divine flourish and strode in.

What I saw angered me so greatly even at my early age I nearly lost my will over my demon within. My veelan urges wanted release when I saw my boy, my Harry with a Weasley. But I quickly regained control, convincing myself that Harry didn't know that he was mine, and that Weasley was filthy, poor trash. I'd just have to tell him.

As I am sure you are well aware of is that telling him did no good; in fact it has done no good for the last four years of school. But now I have the perfect plan to gain favor with You-Know-Who and win over my Harry from the filth of his so called friends. Well, he'll soon what kind of friends they really are.

I have just finished the first peace of correspondence with the great Saint Potter, which will change his blind eye of innocence to the lies and deceit of his life. Of course it will have to stay anonymous written with a Not-me-Quill. Potter will soon wished he had taken my hand that day on the Hogwarts' Express.

Turning Potter against all those he loves is a simply beautiful arrangement. Leaving him hurting and all alone with no protection from my caring charms and affections, making it not very difficult to have him fall in love with me. For he will love me and only me, I'll make sure of it.

I really can't take all the credit for my devious plan to convert Potter. Both my parents and my cousin Blaise have contributed their marvelous talents and creative thoughts to my most recent project. If I had known that my cousin made such a delightful lackey I'd have gotten rid of those two retched buffoons centuries ago. I may have acquired Harry ages ago if dare I say that I hadn't been so blind to Blaise's valuable talents. 

I must find a way to thank him personally. Never would have gotten as much done in such a short time without him supplying the illegal Veritaserum and having such unmatched skills with Obliviate, to that of only Lockhart. With these handy skills and my debonair we were both able to during the earlier summer to snatch both Weasel and Lady Buck Teeth from their precious homes and dig up all the nasty little secrets involving my dear Harry. And what gentle man am I to keep these new findings to myself. 

I lean back into the thick black leather chair I had resided myself on while I composed my letters. I sigh in pleasantly through my nose, as my thoughts bring upon me arousal and contentment. A quick glance to my blond haired cousin causes my curiosity to surface at the large ancient tom that rests heavily in his lap.

"Oh dear cousin, what is it that is so interesting in that terribly old book?" I ask with my usual unconcerned drawl.

Matching gray eyes glance up through thick white lashes before looking back down to the tiny print on thick parchment, " About the Evelien family. Their recent doings are quite interesting."

I stiffen at the familiar name. It is too early to burrow into this mystery. Though I am curious at what the great Evelien family has been up to as of late. Knowing Blaise, I will have to ask what it is that is so fascinating about the Eveliens' that we don't already know.

I stretch still seated and I hear my knees and lower back crack from their first movement in a couple of hours. I lean forward, my elbows resting precociously on my knees while my sleep heavy head rests in my left hand. My right fidgets with a crease in my pants tickling my left knee. I clear my throat, "And what is it that is so amazing that we do not already know?"

He glares but then sighs with open annoyance and rests his thin delicate hands tinged pink from the flowing blood underneath his pail skin on the water marked pages of the still large open book. After clearing his throat he looks strait into my eyes before looking back down to his hands fidgeting with creased page corners, "There isn't much that we do not already know. I am at present reading on the most currant events dealing with Lord Noe and his family."

I yawn and drowsily nod my head. I wave my right hand for him to continue.

"Noe is negotiating with our lord on keeping his French territory in exchange for an alliance.  Also he will be sending his youngest son Odin as a gift of friendship."

I raise an eyebrow at this odd news, "I thought they had a daughter? Why not send her as a gift, I know for a fact that our lord does not stray to the same sex."

Blaise nodded his head in agreement before licking his cherry pink lips, "It would be logical if she wasn't cursed."

I straiten in my chair at his words, "Cursed?"

Another nod, "It seems so. An adversary of some sort cast a curse on her to make her slowly go mad. They have yet to find a cure."

"Does it say what curse was used?" I look on in aww as he shakes his head. Simply amazing that an old family like the Eveliens would have such trouble with a curse of any sort.

Blaise looked at me than my finished letters, "Don't you have something more direr to do than bother my reading?"

I wave him off as I stand and stretch, this time feeling bones crack back into place. I pick up the letters and head out of the chilly common room to the even colder dungeon passages beyond. The Owlry is calling my name.