This chapter is dedicated to all my readers who never stopped supporting me.
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"It will be 2 Shillings, Sir."
A meek voice broke the trance of a Slytherin Prefect. He looked up from a newly bought item. It was a plain diary with a thick black cover. Though it was new, its pages were yellowish. The spine of that diary was shining brightly as Tom held it up in the sunlight to inspect its binding. To be honest, Tom was never a boy to write down his experiences. His sharp memory was enough catalogue to record every single detail that happened in his life. However, that day was different. It was the day when he was going to meet Gaunts, who he suspected shared the blood that ran through his veins. Hence, he wanted to note down everything in a muggle way. Clutching the diary in a hand, his other hand fished out small metal coins.
Tom playfully weighted them. A snort left his lips when he realized how light they were compared to wizard currency. It amazed him that muggles used faces of their so-called leaders whereas wizards carved magical creatures on Galleons, Sickles and Knuts. This simple fact showed how different two societies worked. Nevertheless, the fifteen-year-old teenager paid for the diary and left the place, not bothering to throw a parting glance at Winstanley's Bookstore & Stationers, the muggle shop of London.
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Tom looked around himself. Was he in the right place? His eyes did a double-take as they took in the small shack that stood in front of him. There was nothing remarkable about it. Nothing that could give away the fact that it actually belonged to a magical family. That too to pureblooded descendants of Salazar. It was nowhere near the way that young curious wizard had portrayed it in his mind. The only thing that had clung to any Slytherin feature was the snake-like structure carved on the door.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled his hand up and knocked. No response came. His brows furrowed. He tried again. The result didn't change. Getting impatient, Tom pushed the door slightly. It creaked as it opened wide, allowing the visitor to enter the noble shack of the only pureblood living heir of the greatest parselmouth of all time.
Tom scrunched his nose as a rotten smell of stale meat evaded his senses. His eyes widened in disbelief when his mind processed how messy the place was. Everything was where it was not supposed to be. He was about to take a step further but found himself being blocked by a pile of unwashed clothes. They were tangled with the empty cans of different edibles. It appeared to him that the cottage was not cleaned for ages. His handsome face gave away his distaste. Tom never liked unorganized people. To be honest, for once he appreciated the way Mrs Cole - the woman who was an in-charge of Wool's orphanage, kept the place tidy. Realizing what he had just thought, he deliberately pushed that idea out of his mind.
A certain sound helped him in doing so. It was the sound of thumps. The one which gave away that he was not alone in that old, almost abandoned shack.
Tom looked up to see a man standing before him. He had thick hair so matted with dirt that no one could guess their original colour. His eyes were small and dark and stared in opposite directions. The way he looked didn't hide the fact that he had not taken a bath since ages. The more Tom looked at him the more hideous he became. He was definitely the ugliest man the young wizard had seen in his fifteen years of life.
"You? What are you doing here?" The man hissed. Now that his mouth had opened Tom could see, his several teeth were missing. However, it surprised him that he had talked in Parseltongue. It confirmed that this man was Gaunt.
"I am here to meet the noble blood of Salazar Slytherin," Tom responded in the Parseltongue. His face concealed his disgust towards his current surroundings. And he was going to keep that facade until he got the information he sought. After all, he was a consummate actor.
Now it was the unknown man's turn to be surprised. The last thing he expected was someone to speak, let alone understand the tongue he was so proud of. Maybe it was because he had no visitor since long, his persona changed toward the boy. And that's where things started going downhill for the said man.
"Oh! I am Morfin Gaunt. The last pureblood descendant of the great Salazar Slytherin. Are you a wizard? I thought you were that filthy man. You look a lot like him."
This spiked Tom's interest. "Who?"
"That filth who lives in his so-called mansion. The useless muggle with whom my sister was infatuated. The scum who goes by the name Tom Riddle." Morfin spoke not bothering to cover his distaste for the man his sister fancied.
The Slytherin prefect froze. Tom Riddle? Did he hear right? A muggle? Was he, a future of wizardry, named after A MUGGLE?
"Rumor has it he and my sister ran away, then he got her pregnant and left her while she was having a baby. His baby."
Anger boiled inside the teenager. Was this the truth of his life? His father had used his mother and then abandoned her? He was brought out of the trance again when Morfin spoke.
"Served her right. The filthy blood traitor had stolen our family heirloom." The short Gaunt muttered in distaste. It appeared to the young wizard that this man cared about his possession more than his own sister.
The fingers of Morfin's right hand played with the simple ring that rested on his smallest finger of the left hand as he spoke. It didn't go unnoticed by Tom. The latter narrowed his eyes on that metal ring subtly.
"What had she stolen?" He asked trying to divert the flow of conversation.
"Our most prized possession, the locket of Salazar Slytherin. Can you believe it?"
Tom's eyes sparkled. New kind of interest shined through the chocolaty depths of them. Through his years at Hogwarts, he had done enough research to know what that locket was and how much it worthed. The locket was special because not only it was created by Salazar himself, but rumour had it that it could be opened only by a parselmouth. He remembered how happy it had made him when he had realized that he was one of those few who were considered sacred enough to do the honour. Now that he knew the locket belonged to this poor Gaunt family, he was thrilled that it made him a future owner of that remarkable artefact. However, first, he needed to confirm this.
"The one that could only be opened with Parseltongue?"
"Yeah, the same one," the only living Gaunt slurred. His dark eyes twinkled as he straightened up. He was the man who never let go of any chance to boast about his pureblood ancestry. "But of course my slut sister had the guts to actually disappear with it. To tell you the truth, I was actually surprised that she had enough brain to do that. That filthy little squib was sneaky. If only father and I had not been in Azkaban at that time, I would have tortured her, or maybe father would have given me a good show by doing that for me. It has been long since I laughed."
A sinister smile made its way on those thick lips as his mind played back the past he shared with his sibling. The poor girl who was abused by her own blood and flesh. The helpless little girl who was bullied for not being able to cast a spell without making a mistake for she was always under the torture of her father and her only brother. She needed protection from those who were supposed to protect her.
Never in his life, did he think that he would dislike his middle name, for it was the only one thing that he owned since his birth that had a magical origin, but now he was dispising it.
Tom clenched his jaw. His fist tightened around his phoenix cored magical stick. He was twitching to kill this caveman in front of him. Tom had never been with his mother. Hell! He wasn't even fortunate enough to share a memory with her, but Merlin did it hurt? Yes, it did. Like a b*tch. To realize the woman who had given him birth was bullied and abused by her family was hurtful. Was this really how the family treated one another? If so, he was happy he had none.
Even after all of this, his mother had chosen to name him after his good for nothing grandfather, that too when she was breathing for the last time. Was this what real love was? Is this how it repaid?
If so, he was happy that he had never fallen in love.
Without wasting another moment of his precious time Tom pulled out his wand and directed it to the man who was still dreaming about the worst nightmares of a girl who died giving birth to her baby.
"Stupefy." Tom bellowed.
With the thud a man in his forties landed on the wooden floor, his body as stiff as stone. Tom leaned down and searched the former's pockets until he found a small, very disoriented looking wand. He was about to pull back when his chocolaty orbs landed on the golden ring he had seen earlier. Now that he was close, he could see that it was indeed very different and unique from the rings he had come across all his life. Without further ado, he roughly removed it, not caring that his actions were hurting the fingers of his uncle in the process. Not giving a damn, he took off in the direction to hunt down the man who wronged his mother, especially when she was carrying him.
The man who had never taken responsibility for what was his.
Tom's eyes blazed with fury. There were so many emotions flickering in those chocolaty orbs, but none of them matched with the fire that was consuming him from inside. His usually calm and calculative mind was enraged. It appeared to him that whatever happened did change nothing. He was an orphan before, and he was an orphan now. The only thing that changed was that his hunt to trace back his ancestry had finally come to an end. His soul would never crave to find that ever again. The years' struggle that he had gone through to find his sperm donor did nothing but solidified his hate for filthy blood, the term he used to refer mudbloods and muggles together.
However, all these efforts were not as fruitless as they seemed. Tom realised.
A sinister smile made its way on those pink, slightly chapped, sinfully attractive lips.
He was an HEIR.
A SLYTHERIN heir nonetheless.
He had the blood that belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself.
Tom was right. He had always been. He was born to rule this world. He was born to purify it and restore it back to its initial glory. And he was going to do just that.
It didn't matter that he had filthy blood running in his veins, for he was a successor of the most renowned parselmouth of the history.
He was going to claim his throne, for it belonged to him and him alone.
With that thought, his feet dragged him in the direction of Riddle manor, whose residents were completely unaware of the tornado that was heading in their direction to demolish them.
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Fact # 1: The infamous diary of Tom Riddle was actually bought from a muggle shop mentioned in this chapter. I was surprised to know that Voldemort had considered buying something that was made by muggles.
Fact # 2: Shillings is a currency that was used in the 1940s.
1 Pound = 20 Shillings.
Fact # 3: Did you notice how many times this chapter had referred to "noble" Salazar Slytherin? Well, I am not his fan, but both Morfin and Tom are. This is to show their obsession over pureblood supremacy.
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So what do you think? Did you like how the events turn out? I really hope you liked this chapter since I tried to show Tom's turmoil when he found his blood-line.
In this chapter, Tom killed Riddles and framed his uncle for the scam. To be honest, I was going to skip this chapter. Then I thought this incidence shows his true dark nature, so I couldn't do that.
Please excuse me for the mistakes. I typed this chapter on my mobile.
If you liked this chapter and want to read more, please share and vote on the story. These things inspire me in writing more.
Thank you all!!!