He'd finally done it; he finally managed to track down his father to Little Hangleton, the town where his mother had fallen for him. From a young age, he had assumed his father was a wizard, and his mother a muggle. Much to his mounting disappointment, on a Tuesday morning in the library, he found that his father was really a muggle, and his mother, last of the Gaunts, had succumbed to the human weakness of death.

One of the things he hated about this was how he was named after him, this traitorous muggle gave him both his name and his looks. He didn't usually feel much, but bitterness still boiled in him at the thought that his already common name stemming from his disappointment of a father. He never bothered to check up on where his son had ended up anyway; what was there to talk about?

After arriving at Little Hangleton, he'd managed to gather a bit of information on what happened to his mother. Back at the orphanage, he was only told that she died giving birth to him, his father nowhere in sight.

From that, he learned that his father left her, left her to come back to this filthy village to live the rest of his life here up to the present. The villagers seemed not to bat an eye his way; most of them probably didn't live when his father did. The only few that gave him as much as a subtle, suspicious glance appeared to be much over 65.

He stalked closer towards the Riddle Mansion, clutching his uncle's wand tightly; he couldn't use his own wand now because it would reveal him. Tom was adamant on just getting rid of his father for now, he'd already dealt with his has-been uncle and stolen the last Gaunt heirloom. The young man froze as he heard footsteps saunter nearby and he took refuge behind the looming mansion.