Tom Riddle had emerged from the ruins of his grandfather's house, a look of disgust upon his face. He looked over at the big house over the way, and a current of hatered shot through him. His filthy Muggle father and grandparents lived there; the filth who had left him in the orphanage, who had never even tried to look for him. Abandoned his mother, from what he heard from his uncle, who looked like a tramp, living is filth and looking like a repulsive Muggle rather than a wizard, a descendent of Salazar Slytherin, the greatest wizard to have ever lived before him!
Tom looked at the wand in his hand which he had taken from the man in the shack, and made up his mind at once. With long strides, his jaw set, he moved towards the house where he would finally get revenge upon the worthless Muggle filth that that plagued his mind for years.
The sun was setting as Tom neared the house, undetected by any Muggles from the village. He stood before it, looking at it with reluctant taste, as the sun bathed it and the land surrounding it in golden light. He caught sight of a young Muggle, slightly older than him, limping slightly as he crossed the vast garden, cutting grass, then tending to the rosebushes, taking a painstakingly long time, then, finally limping off towards a small cottage that he could just see at the bottom of the garden. The muggle cast him a suspicious look several times over his shoulder, and then disappeared from veiw. All that time, Tom had stood as still as a pillar, watching the house, a dark, calculating look marring his handsome features.
Tom walked up the path to the front door, hatered and fury pulsating through him like poison, blood pounding loudly in his ears, his face twisted, his teeth bared as he breathed deeply. He stopped before the vast front door and forced his breathing to calm, to master his feelings, to betray nothing.
"Alohamora!" Tom said quietly, pointing at the lock.
He walked into the magnificent enterance hall, decorated in garish muggle taste, and thought bitterly if he would have been better off here, rather than at the orphanage. He caught sight of a maid in the kitchen, bent over a sink, scrubbing furiously. He walked slowly, quietly, towards her, and as he neared, he could hear her muttering darkly under her breath.
"... filthy little ... as though I'd be here if I had a choice ... what he means by it ... as though I havn't heard about him running off with that tramp all those years ago ... had a bastard too, I heard, I hope it rots ... ends up looking like her and then ... from what I've heard ... yes, we shall see, how ... how he dares ..."
Tom frowned slightly, and pointed the wand at the maid, and said, "Imperius!" just as the maid was about to turn around.
You will stay here, doing your duties, no matter what you hear. Should you hear something, you will ignore it, and forget about it.
Tom walked across the hall, his excitement building, he could almost taste the feeling of triumph to do what he has longed to do ... He heard voices. Walking purposefully into the drawing room, he saw three Muggles standing together, talking, which they ceased to do as soon as they caught sight of the young man.
"Good lord... who the devil are you! Who let you in? Get out of our home!" Said the elderly man, his nose high in the air, as though he thought a great deal of himself.
The younger man was staring at Tom as though he couldn't believe his eyes.
The woman was frowning. "Jane! JANE!" There was no answer. "Where in blazes is that girl? Why did she not inform us we had guests? And more to the point, whom do you think you are, coming here just as we are about to have dinner!" The woman demanded loudly. "Well? Answer me, boy!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
The elderly woman crumpled to the floor with a rushing sound and a flash of green light, her mouth open uselessly, a look of great shock upon her face. She was dead before she hit the floor.
"NO!" The elderly man shouted. He looked at Tom, his eyes wide in shock, "what have you done to her? What do you want? We'll give you anything, just put her right and let us be!"
Tom junior did not answer, he merely observed his father with impassive interest, who was standing still, looking at Tom, a look of mingled horror and daunting upon his face.
"Tell us what you want, you insolent freak!" The old man shouted, his eyes poping madly.
With another rushing sound, a flash of green light and another incantation from Tom, and he too fell to the floor, already dead.
Only the two Toms were now left, looking at each other, the air thick with fear, tension and excitement.
"You... YOU!" Tom senior screamed, pointing at his son. "With ... her! What do you want? Do you want to ruin my life as your filthy freak of a mother did? She sent you, I suppose? Answer me!"
Tom's eyes flashed dangerously.
"GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!" He screamed over and over.
Tom junior cocked his head slightly to one side and observed his father with mild interest as he continued to should "get out" and let laughter escape him, first as a chuckle, then as a full, long, mirthless laugh, rising to almost a scream. Tom senior's shouts died away as he watched this teenager laugh emptily, his mouth wide open, the wand still in his hand.
Tom junior had now stopped laughing, and looked down at his wand with interest, as though wondering what would happen if he raised it.
Tom Riddle Senior fell dead to the floor, a look of fear and horror upon his face, the image of his laughing son burned into his mind.
Tom paused before leaving the house, and flicked the wand at the maid, lifting the Imperius curse. He walked down the path, his face expressionless, coloured red by the sunset. He walked purposefully through the Village, not once looking back at the house, not once betraying that he may have feelings, his face still impassive. He felt powerful, elated, triumphant, his heart racing furiously fast with excitement, though he did not allow these feelings to show. Finally, as he had reached the ruin where his stunned uncle lived, he heard a woman's scream echo through the village towards him, and he turned back to the house, glowing red in the sunset, the ghost of a smirk upon his mouth, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glierring oddly. He turned back to the revolting ruin before him ... there was work to be done.