For a moment, the three simply examined each other. The horcrux spirit was sixteen or seventeen, with a handsome, smooth face marred by a severe look of anger. It twisted up his every feature, nose scrunched, eyebrows furrowed, and a righteous scowl revealing teeth and gums. It was inhuman, the strength of his anger, morphing the child into a demon. Then, in a split second, the emotion drained from his face turning him into that of a lifeless wax figurine. The boy fixed a demure smile and inclined his head towards them, his movements stiff and posed like a marionette.
"Hello," he said. "Harry Potter."
"Oh," Harry said. "You know who I am! Am I famous even amongst horcruxes?"
The facade of calm slipped for a brief moment as the boy's lips twitched.
"You are the Boy Who Lived, of course I've heard of you, the one to vanquish the great Lord Voldemort," he crooned over the man's name like that of a lover. "What is more intriguing is how you have heard of me, or rather what I am."
"Mhm," Alabasandria interrupted, rather disinterested in humoring the boy's questions. "Actually, I find it much more intriguing as to how a child managed to create such a strong horcrux. What's your name?"
The boy stared impassively into her eyes, not affected by the waves of death rolling off the master necromancer.
"Tom Riddle, and you?"
"Riddle - interesting. You're not connected to any of the Dark bloodlines, that's not even a pureblood name."
Another crack in Riddle's mask revealed a flash of blinding rage. Alabasandria continued. "Well, we were assuming you were the Heir of Slytherin, but I suppose not, as I am sure you are aware he would have despised someone of your heritage muddying his legacy."
"I am descended from the noble line of Slytherin himself," the boy said with a sudden sharp tone. "The only thing tarnished is the legacy of this school which dared let mudbloods into its halls."
"Wow," she rolled her eyes. "Aren't you a treat? It's sad, really. A desperate little halfblood, I assume, trying to kiss up to the pureblood supremacists. Do you think if you kiss up to them, they might spare you from their hatred? You're hiding behind someone else's cause and name just to make yourself feel like a big boy, huh? Is it because you're short? Or did mummy not love you enough? I hate to break it to you, Tommy, but you accomplished jack shit. You've petrified half a dozen people and only ever killed one, if we can blame the last time the Chamber opened on you. And what little credit that's due will all go to Slytherin. No one knows who you are. I would say that the creation of this horcrux would be impressive if it weren't so obvious otherwise - you're just wasted potential."
"I do not hide behind him! I am the most powerful sorcerer in the world! My name is synonymous with fear!"
"First off, ego much?" Harry interrupted with a laugh. "Second, coming from someone who is actually famous, I can assure you I've never heard of Tom Riddle before. Considering you like to hang out in girl's bathrooms though, maybe I'm not your target audience." Riddle let out a growl of rage and swiped his hand out. Letters began to appear in the air as though the living diary penned them.
"I am Lord Voldemort - did you seriously make your supervillain name an anagram? That is… wow." Harry burst into giggles.
"Can we get back on topic?" Alabasandria barely looked up at the words, unimpressed with Riddle entirely. Him being Voldemort made sense, but was hardly relevant at the moment. "Riddle, as you are incorporeal, you can't be the only person involved in opening the Chamber. So who's your accomplice?"
"Why should I submit to this interrogation when you have refused to answer any of my questions?"
"We know you're a horcrux, remember? We know how to destroy those," Harry said with a cackling grin. Bouncing on his heels, he gestured towards his mama. She knew what he was hinting at, and she indulged her apprentice in his favorite party trick. With a snap of her wand, the room was suffocated in heat. Harry's giggles were swallowed as the heat ripped the oxygen from his lungs. Fiendfyre took the form of a flock of crows and dove around the room. Riddle's eyes widened at the powerful display of the supposedly untamable magic.
"We're necromancers," she explained as it became clear they'd actually managed to make him speechless.
....
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