"Hello miss" His smile was board and creepy. His soul was breathing with dark humor and a frightening amount of want. "My name is Tom Riddle, and I came here to kidnap you".
Voldemort is dead. Harry died. Once. Then twice. Every time he dies, Harry loses a little bit of himself. The dead sing his name. The one who mastered Death. But dying is a horrible affair. A horrible, horrible Affair.