Disclaimer: Know that I own nothing of the Wizarding world. All credits go to J.K. Rowling and her magical imagination.

I thank her for so much inspiration and courage to write myself.

Chapter 2: Disillusion

The moon had driven away the sun and all was dark on the dirt road where Tom Riddle was looking at a small worn down hovel.

"The years have not been good for the descendants of the great Salazar Slytherin." Tom hissed in anger to himself.
He realized that Nott had not lied to him, the Gaunt-family was a poor family.
Led by a lunatic father who had spend all the money they had on riches he could not pay for.
Tom made mental note to thank Nott for his honesty, and tell him not to bring news like this, as blunt as he did so he would not get crusciated as he had been.
Tom walked up to the door and listened closely. Inside he heard a loud snoring and he assumed one of the two men was sleeping drunken in his chair.
Tom held the old lantern he had found at the side of the house up and pointed his wand at it.

"Incendio" he whispered and a small flame erupted inside illuminating the surroundings.
He gave a rapid knock on the door and pushed the door open which gave an old fashion creaking sound.
Tom looked around and saw a movement at the fireplace.
From the old moldy chair rose a monkey shaped man who was broad in the shoulders and had greasy black hair.
His mismatched eyes looked into Tom's and recognition dawned on the man.

"YOU! He bellowed. "YOU!" Before Tom knew what was going on, the man came hurtling at him, both knife and wand held aloft.
The only thing Tom could think of was drawing his wand and curse him. But he thought better of it.
Using his wand too much would definitely draw the attention of the Ministry of Magic to him.
Without being sure if it would work, Tom used the gift of his ancestor. Hoping it was a gift that ran in their blood.

"Stop." He said in the snake language that only Slytherin and his kin understood. The drunken man skidded into the table making a few pots fall to the floor.
Apparently the man had never learned to take care of himself as the smell of mold and rotten food rose from the floor.
The man locked eyes with Tom and after a long silence the snake language was answered by this fool.

"You speak it?" He asked with a rough growling and nervous voice.

"Yes I speak it!" Tom spat at him. The disappointment that he felt heavy in his voice.
He took a few steps inside and the door closed with a loud bang, as Tom waved a few fingers.
"Where is Marvolo?" he asked with as much demand in his voice he could muster.
This foul drunken waste of life would better answer him quickly as he felt the hatred and anger rise up in him.

"Dead" Said the man in a matter of fact tone. "Died years ago, didn't he?" The stupidity of this man sounded in his voice as it did in the attack he almost gave Tom.
Frowning in annoyance Tom had to struggle to keep his patience before he continued his interrogation.

"Who are you then?" Tom asked trying to stall time. He had not anticipated Marvolo to be dead.

"I'm Morfin ain't I?" Tom wondered if this man needed every statement confirmed.

"Marvolo's son?" He asked the dirt covered man.

"Course I am then!" The man snickered in a high pitch and his voice cackled a bit.

Tom started to hate Morfin, he was dirty dumb and not worth being called a wizard. Let alone being called the heir of Slytherin.
Morfin pushed his dirty hair out of his face and Tom saw the black ring Morfin wore on his right hand.
In the light of the fireplace Tom recognized the Peverell family coat of arms.
The familiar feeling of longing shot trough Tom as he always had felt when he saw something he believed to be his.

"I thought you was that Muggle," Morfin whispered more to himself then to Tom. The very idea of him being a Muggle enraged Tom.
But it had to mean something for Morfin would not say that just for fun.

"What Muggle?" he asked trying to hone his fury. Morfin got a face that was showing the disgust that he apparently fell

"That Muggle that my sister took a fancy to, that Muggle that lives in the big house on the other side of the big road!"
Morfin spat on the floor right in front of Tom's feet and wiped his mouth. His anger boiling to the surface.
"You look right like him. Riddle! But he's not you, is he? He's older'n you, now I think of it!"

Tom's anger rose and he felt like he was to discover something so disgusting he could barely take it.
But he had to know, just a little longer before he could dispose of this filth, but first he had to know.
How was it that this despicable filth knew his last name?

"He came back y'see?" Morfin suddenly said waking Tom out of his thoughts.

"Riddle came back?" It seemed prudent to Tom that he kept talking to Morfin on his weak minded level.

"Ay, he left her and serves her right. Marrying filth as she did!" He spat on the floor again to emphasize his feeling about the topic.
"Robbed us blind before she ran off, she did. Where's the locket, eh? Where's Slytherin's locket?"

Tom felt a surge of excitement in his body. There was a locket? There was prove that Slytherin had existed?
If he could find this locket, he could take possession of it and make his claim to his legacy to be a reality.
He felt the familiar feeling of calculated murder rising in him again.
It gave him a purpose, the taboo that others talked about was just an excuse not to do what had to be done.

"Dishonored us, she did. That little slut! And who're you, coming here and asking about all that?" Morfin's rage started to build against Tom again.
Hobbling from liquor Morfin walked over to Tom raising his knife and wand again.
"It's over innit, it's over!" and with those last words he stood still suddenly and crashed to the floor. Tom knelt down besides his uncle and thought him to be dead.
But as he was about to stand up again a loud and deep snore told him otherwise.

"Weak minded primate! Disgusting worm! How dare you smearing the name of Slytherin through the mud like this?"
Tom's rage finally broke as he stood up and paced around the hovel. Everything in here was a curse, a smudge on the name Slytherin.
He was disappointed to see what had become of one of the greatest wizards of all time. These brainless monkey´s had ruined everything he had hoped to find.
He had been so excited to find out his royal descent, and now? Now he had to find out, not only was his grandfather and uncle a bunch of weak minded apes.
He had also been an accident between a filthy Muggle and a blood traitor. Lights exploded in front his eyes and Tom took out his wand and pointed it at his uncle.
"This is not even murder," Tom whispered in a hiss. "This is purification!"

He raised his wand to make the spell he used once before on a toad of one of his classmates. "Avada Kedav…"
Before he could finish his curse however, Tom had a brilliant idea. He soon would have a better target, and a scapegoat to take the blame.
He pocketed his own wand and bend down to pick up his uncles wand.

"How useful you are for me, uncle. Finally, you shall be of service to Lord Voldemort."
And with that he walked out of the hovel, armed with his uncle's wand and in possession of his uncle's ring. His new heirloom.
His mind was set on the big house over the road.