Disclaimer: All is JK Rowling's. Except for this crazy plot bunny, which belongs to Christia of Fiction Alley.

Summary: Tom Riddle wants to prove that how Harry defeated Voldemort is very important to him, indeed, but it having some issues with exactly how to spell it out for him. Takes place in the chamber in CoS.

A/N: Not my best. Very random. As well as pointless. Enjoy anyway.

Trouble With Anagrams

"Voldemort," said Riddle softly, "is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter..."

He pulled Harry's wand from his pocket and began to trace it through the air, writing three shimmering words:

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

Then he waved the wand once, and the letters of his name rearranged themselves:

I ATM DROOL MERDOLV

Riddle gaped at the shining characters. "What—"

"I think you may have spelled that wrong," Harry pointed out unnecessarily. Riddle glared at him.

"I think I realize that, Potter," he said through clenched teeth. "But I think you understand."

"No," Harry said, "I don't think I do. Something about an ATM—I thought you didn't like Muggles?—and drooling. You drooled, Tom? I have got to say, I don't really see what your teachers saw in you..."

Riddle growled at him. "Why isn't it working?" he asked, clearly frustrated.

"Don't ask me," Harry replied, taking advantage of this sudden memory lapse, or whatnot. "I don't drool."

"Shut up, Potter!" Riddle shrieked. He flicked Harry's wand again.

MORTAL LORD ME VOID

Harry nodded mock thoughtfully. "Ah, I see now. Tom Marvolo Riddle is a charade. You are actually a mortal lord named "Me Void," and I have to wonder what your parents were thinking when they decided on that one...and the whole ATM thing makes sense now...well, at least, there is a theme with Muggle money...did you void a check? If you were really a pure-blood, you wouldn't know about that...Are you a squib? Interesting..." Riddle was ignoring him now, but Harry could tell he was on the verge of snapping. A vein in his forehead was throbbing.

"I will get this right...I will get this right...I will get this right," Riddle chanted to himself under his breath. Harry heard him, however.

"You just tell your self that, eh, Tommy-boy! You're like the little Squib that could!" Harry urged, bursting to the seams with restrained laughter. Riddle was livid. He waved Harry's wand once again:

I AM VOLDEMORT LORD

"Yes, I sort of figured," said Harry. "Power-hungry-ness never lies, does it?" Harry nodded wisely. "Bow down and obey me, Vol-de-mort—that means "flight from death" or something like that, doesn't it? My friend Hermione told me—for I am your master." Riddle roared with rage, ready to grab the thing closest to him and rip it to pieces.

That closest thing happened to be the diary. Riddle didn't realize what he was doing until the diary was in pieces at his feet. He howled with anger, and slowly dissipated, fading away. Harry grinned.

"That was a lot more entertaining than it should have been," he muttered to himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny stir. She abruptly sat up, and words began rushing out of her mouth. Harry shushed her.

"It's all right Ginny...Riddle just ripped himself apart," Harry laughed quietly to himself at how true this really was. "Let's go, Ron's waiting..." Ginny looked curious through the tears that had started to pour down her face, and followed Harry out of the chamber.