Tom was almost disappointed by how easy it was to send an anonymous message. Clearly he wasn't the first with the desire. He'd actually almost been sucked into a book descriptively titled "Methods to Defeat Tracking and Interception in Magical Communication" about the historical back and forth before with truly heroic willpower he just skipped to the end to see what the most recent methods were. The book recommended post owls, and subsequent sources only confirmed it. They had some caveats, don't use an owl you personally own, but government sponsored owls across Europe were sufficiently enchanted there was no way to find their sender. Handing the bird, a rather stout brown one with an imperious cast to his features, his letter felt decidedly anti-climactic. As he went back to the castle alone, it was a calculated risk to leave the wards as it was, he consoled himself with Dumbledore's words. Current magic was generally superior to the rare and forgotten. It wouldn't get him anywhere closer to his desired goal, except that with Bond troubled he'd have more to worry about than trying to kill Tom.
Tom stopped at the lake, the weather had taken a decided turn for the wintry even though there still was no snow, to think about Bond without further distractions. The man had tried to kill him twice, and his second attempt had been particularly terrifying. How had he known about the Chamber, how had he known Tom would even be aware of it? The suddenness of the attack and then his detente with Dumbledore had distracted him, but he had very real unanswered questions.
The chill wind raced across the surface, stirring the glassy waters, as he struggled for a reasonable explanation. Dumbledore had said the man hated him, he knew that to be from legilimency now, but Tom couldn't think of anything he'd ever done in the wizarding world to cause that sort of emotion. He idly considered that one of the children he'd tormented at the orphanage had secret wizarding connections, but couldn't bring himself to believe it. The idea of someone with power caring about Billy Stubbs or anyone there was ludicrous.
If it hadn't been Tom's actions at fault, logically he was being blamed for another's. That ran into a similar problem. He was an orphan, whatever family he had was lost. If he didn't even know who his father was, Tom Riddle senior was apparently no wizard, how could Bond? The man seemed rational, even from a certain perspective heroic when he'd freed the prisoners. He could just be mad of course, but that wasn't borne out by the other evidence. The idea of it being his family's fault was his best lead yet, he'd have to dig into it.
His father, if he was a junior then his father was the senior, must be a muggle. He didn't have much of an idea how to find the correct Tom Riddle, it wouldn't be a common name but there was probably more than one running around. As to his magical heritage, he had two clues, his mother's name Merope, and his middle name Marvolo.
He knew his mother probably hadn't gone to Hogwarts, he'd managed to look at the past enrollment for the last century, there was no one by that name. It was possible she'd changed her name after leaving, but he'd ignore that chance until he'd exhausted all other options.
With his new objective he left the grounds, moving quickly through the almost deserted castle until he reached the library. There he paused, they had back issues of the Daily Prophet, he could look for births or obituaries, but there were thousands of them. He was fifteen, his mother had been young and that was all Mrs. Cole had known. It wasn't much to go one, that still gave an enormous span to search for her birth. Ten years conservatively, between thirty two and forty two years ago for his mother's birth announcement, assuming it was even in there. Perhaps there was another way, tax records, a census- He walked to the front, to Madam Douille. "Are there any genealogies here?"
She raised an eyebrow. He'd always been polite but she had been one of the staff injured during Bond's attack, he wasn't sure how helpful she would be. She closed her book with a snap, the sound echoing through the empty library before she stood and strode off into the stacks, not waiting for him. She led him to a small section, crammed between histories of the British Isles and court records, with a flick of her wand several books lit up, their spines glowing faintly orange. "Here you are Mr. Riddle, the spell shows the ones most frequently consulted. Good luck."
With that she turned to move back to her desk, Tom had already changed his focus to the now flickering books. Following the Founders, Does Blood Matter?: A Study, Nature's Nobility, and the Pure-Blood Directory. With a sigh he swept them from the shelves, four books was better than four thousand newspapers.
The first three were busts, the third had been promising, but in the Pure-Blood Directory he had struck gold. At the time of the book's publishing there had been precisely one Marvolo, Marvolo Gaunt. The Gaunt line was even descended from Slytherin, Tom allowed himself to feel confident, the evidence was promising. The book even had a location, vaguely mentioning lands in Little Hangleton.
Tom closed the book and replaced them back to their shelves. He was tempted to leave the castle and apparate there directly, he was confident he had acquired the needed grasp on the magic, but there were problems. First, he didn't have a clear image of the destination, he'd never been to the village. Second, Bond had managed to trap the Chamber, leaving something at a home would presumably be easier. He'd have to enlist Dumbledore's help.
The professor's wall was open, looking as if the stones had simply folded into themselves. He wasn't alone, several younger students, probably second years still restricted to the castle, were watching him slowly change a colorful songbird into a jeweled cup. Tom rapped on the door to announce himself. One of the smaller students turned and nearly shrieked at the sight of him, clearly he had not forgotten.
"Mr. Riddle, can I help you?" Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling infuriatingly, they had spoken frequently since they'd returned from the conference, he must have thought Tom was there for more advice.
"It can wait sir. If I can return in an hour?"
"No need, I think we're about finished up," he glanced at the children as he spoke. They practically tripped over themselves to gather their books and quills as they stammered out their agreement. "Now then," a wave of his wand closed the door as he gestured for Tom to take a seat, "what seems to be the problem." Tom gave him a quick rundown of the situation, the older man nodding along as he explained.
"So you want to try and find this man, your grandfather?" He was absently drumming his fingers on the desk, Fawkes chose that moment to appear in a burst of flames, clutching an envelope. He took it from the bird, slitting it open with a gesture making Tom envy his casual wandless magic. It wasn't useful compared to a wand but for showing off or summoning a lost wand near at hand it was well worth it. Dumbledore scanned the letter, before placing it in a drawer and looked back to Tom. "My apologies, I'm waiting on urgent news but that wasn't it. If you'd like to venture from the castle we can make a day of it, I'll admit to some curiosity about your theory." He stood and stepped around his desk, his arm out to dismiss Tom from the office. "Shall we say tomorrow at noon? I regrettably have to remain as the staff member on duty until then, but I'll meet you in the Entrance Hall."
"Of course sir." They split up as they left, the wall returning to its normal appearance even as a new door flickered into existence down the hall.
The next day Tom woke up practically bubbling with excitement. He didn't often feel strong emotions, he tried to always project a calm demeanor but most of the time that was equivalent to wearing his heart on sleeve. Today though, he'd probably be meeting a member of his biological family, a descendant of Slytherin. A wizard who had done something sufficient to get Bond to attack in an attempt at revenge, someone with power. He was almost embarrassingly early for the meeting, leaning against the wall fifteen minutes before the agreed on time, watching the House Point counters move up and down.
"There you are Mr. Riddle." Dumbledore had arrived, clad in robes that were slowly pulsing through an eye-searing rainbow. "Ready to go?" Tom nodded, not entirely trusting his ability to speak without insulting Dumbledore's apparent colour-blindness. "Then let's go, I've secured permission from the Headmaster." The two of them walked to the gates, a reverse in almost every sense of their last trip with Dumbledore in a clearly excellent mood.
Passing through the gates that opened soundlessly before them Dumbledore came to a stop. "I managed to locate Little Hangleton. As far as I can tell the Gaunts are the only magical family there." His wand moved as he spoke, his own robes thankfully changing to a more sober suit even as Tom's robes changed to a thick jacket over slacks. "As long as we're reconnoitering we should probably strive to remain inconspicuous. Of course once we find Mr. Gaunt it might be wise to revert, apparently at some point in the past they rejected Hogwarts for being full of Muggles."
"Then where would they have gone to school?" For all of his recent boredom Tom couldn't conceive of preferring another place to the castle, it was his home in all the ways that mattered. "They still do practice magic though?"
"Marvolo Gaunt's name was in the Admissions Book, it was crossed out with a note that the family did not desire further correspondence."
"No Merope then?"
'"The Book's magic is quite sophisticated, it would have known not to even write her name down. We'll have more answers soon." He stepped over to Tom, his boots crunching in the gravel. "Shall we?" Tom jerked his head in assent, suddenly nervous, and Dumbledore reached over before the sensation of apparition took hold.
They were in a gap between buildings just off the main street of a small village. Dumbledore strode out boldly, looking around curiously. "Little Hangleton. You know in these country towns you could be forgiven for some confusion between muggle and magical. As different as we are there are so many similarities."
Tom didn't see any, all he saw was a rundown town, almost deserted. The young men would be off to war and children and elderly were probably at church. The village was all he hated about muggles, it was dead, grey and soulless. Magic was vibrant, it made the world greater by simply existing, this village and its people were barely real. "Do you have any plans on how to find the Gaunt lands?"
"Yes actually." Dumbledore took a sharp left, opening the door into a small store with a jingle. "Good day sir." The proprietor looked startled, hastily lowering his newspaper 'Reds Take Kiev' Tom noticed.
"Hello gentlemen, what can I do for you?" Dumbledore perused the counter, it was distressingly bare, before gesturing at a pastry.
"I'll have one of those and my student will have.." Tom pointed to the same thing for convenience. He had no patience for picking out food now.
"Certainly sir, if I could just see your rationing coupons." Dumbledore almost looked flustered for a second before pulling out a blank piece of paper accompanied by his wand moving.
"Here you are." The man accepted the 'document' without complaint, handing over the two items.
"As long as we're here would you mind answering some questions for us?"
The man rolled his eyes before sweeping his hand around the empty store. "As you can see I'm far too busy for that. Go for it."
"I'm a teacher at a boarding school. Mr. Riddle here was accepted on a scholarship but he's an orphan, we came here in hopes of finding-"
"Riddle you say?" The shopkeep gave him a once over, tilting his head to look at Tom in profile. "You do have the look. They're in the house up on the hill, they should be home as soon as the service is through." Tom nearly froze, he hadn't expected that. Dumbledore recovered first and smoothly.
"That is a piece of luck. We actually had come here for a different reason, a man called Gaunt."
The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow, reassessing Tom now in a decidedly more negative fashion. "There was quite the scandal a few years back, Thomas Riddle and a Gaunt girl, Merry I think. They ran off and only Thomas came back, claimed something about witchcraft."
Every word the man spoke was like a hammer, his father was alive, his mother had potentially ensorcelled him, and his entire living family might be within a mile. "Well you've given us a lot to think about." Dumbledore managed to put the appropriate amount of disdain for the man in his voice, exactly as a teacher would to such a ridiculous tale. "Do you know where the Gaunts live as well? If at all possible we'd like to only make one trip, you know how it is."
"Yes, yes, but at least the ends in sight with our boys back in Europe." He moved to the front of the store, pointing down the road. "If you take that little trail you'll pass old Gaunt's cottage. Haven't seen him in years, but that's where he lived last."
"Thank you for your time," Dumbledore stood, leaving a towering pile of coins on the table, "and your discretion. Mr. Riddle?"
Tom followed him from the store, hastily swallowing the last of his snack. "We're skipping the Riddles?"
"We can always return, but the point of this exercise was to see if Mr. Bonn's rationale was rooted in your family. I doubt a muggle family would be the impetus." Tom nodded, struggling to keep up with the taller wizard's long strides.
They took the path indicated and it quickly shrank, the hedges rapidly becoming overgrown as they continued. At last they reached a narrow opening, a dilapidated cottage barely visible through it. He met Dumbledore's nonplussed look with one of his own, this was certainly not where he expected a powerful wizard to live. He shrugged and stepped forward when he heard a sudden shout.
"Muggles! Trespassers! I'll kill the lot of you!" Dumbledore reacted instantly his wand flickering out to catch a sickly looking curse that he turned it into a parrot which squawked indignantly as it flapped away into the November air. Two more spells came forth that he merely slapped away as he strode through the hedges.
Tom struggled through in his wake, emerging just as Dumbledore disarmed the man, a spell holding him flailing in the air. "What do you want? Come to gloat have you?"
"Do you understand him?" Tom glanced to the professor in confusion before comprehension struck.
"Of course." He turned back to man who had largely given up and studied him. He was filthy, his beady dark eyes pointing different directions his gasping breaths revealing a mouth thats few remaining teeth were rotten. "Honestly? I would rather I didn't."
Dumbledore gave the man, Gaunt presumably, a once over and nodded. "It may be some consolation that you can't choose your family." With a few more wand movements he lowered the man and walked forward, floating him into the shack as he followed. "Perhaps you should ask your questions?"
Tom stepped up, staying just far away the man's smell wouldn't dominate. "What is your name?"
"Little mudblood thinks I'm going to talk to him?" He had rolled his head back, even with his eyes skewed neither was looking at him. "Wouldn't talk to one if it were the last thing on this earth." Dumbledore shook his head when he looked to him, Parseltongue then.
"I asked a question." At that the man twisted back, shock in his dark eyes.
"So sister did it after all."
"Sister? Merope?" This creature was his uncle? Ignorance was bliss.
"The little slut wanted a muggle, wanted to roll in the dirt." He thrust his hips forward as he spoke, deranged laughter spilling forth. "I guess she managed it. I can practically smell the shit in your veins."
For an instant Tom's vision went red and when it stopped the man was screaming, thrashing in the air. He hadn't done that since the orphanage- since Dumbledore- the professor twitched his wand and Gaunt stopped screaming even as his eyes filled with terror.
"What did he say?"
Tom turned back, the professor's eyes were cold. "He said things about my mother, about his sister."
"So this isn't Marvolo." He looked at the man and then around the room. "A long way to fall for the heirs of Slytherin."
"Thieves and betrayers are to blame for that! Filth!" That was in English and Dumbledore rounded on him sharply.
"So you can talk. What do you know of this man?" An image of Bond sprang into life, his green eyes blazing.
"He stole the ring! Killed all the snakes, stuck me to the wall and laughed." Gaunt's voice was barely understandable, he was slipping between Parseltongue and English in his rage. "He said that you'd come, that people would come to finish the job he started. He thought he was so smart but I've got Slytherin's blood, I've got some tricks! Awake!"
His shout triggered something- the floor vanished beneath them. Dumbledore was too quick though- he moved as they fell, his wand flickering to halt them both a foot beneath their prior level. Tom couldn't appreciate the spells as the room filled with noise. "Food! Warm food! Kill!"
The basement was covered in snakes, writhing over each other in layers of black coils. "You'll need to do better than that I'm afraid." Dumbledore could only hear hissing, mere animals wouldn't trouble him. The professor stepped forward, ascending invisible stairs back to the remaining floor. "When did you see him? How long ago was this?"
Gaunt cackled he'd fallen to the floor as Dumbledore's focus shifted before answering, changing to Parseltongue halfway through. "Long enough for an egg to hatch! Kill them!"
A dark green serpent sprang up from the mass of snakes, its jaws distended, fangs glistening with venom. Dumbledore wrenched his head away before summoning Tom who had already begun to fall- Dumbledore's platform had collapsed as soon as the snake, no the basilisk, struck it. A twitch of his wand sent a stream of liquid flame into the basement as he stepped towards Gaunt, flinging him out the window before following through a hole he blasted in the wall.
"Like I said, you'll have to do better." His voice was cold as he stood over the spread eagled man, his limbs pinned to the frozen ground. "Now you have two choices. Give me answers or I will take them." With the failure of Gaunt's attempt the fight seemingly left him and he nodded frantically. "Good. When did you see that man?"
"Two months ago, he just appeared then it was like I said, he took my ring gave me a warning and left! I'd never seen him before."
"Your name and everything you think you know about Tom Riddle." There was no warmth in Dumbledore's eyes now, not for the first time Tom saw his claimed similarities to the Dark Lord.
"I'm Morfin! Morfin Gaunt! And Riddle? Merope fancied him, she must have gotten him when I went to Azkaban, the boy's the image of him!"
"I suspect I know the answer, but did your father ever do anything to the thief?" He shook his head rapidly.
"Nothing! Never!"
"Very well." Dumbledore stunned the man before straightening and turning to Tom who had watched the interrogation in shocked silence. "I'll be sending him to the aurors, anyone mad enough to hatch a basilisk can't be allowed to go free. You'll be able to question him further there if you desire."
Tom wanted to protest but he'd already met half of his family. What guarantee did he have he'd want to meet the rest. He forced the doubts down, there was no profit in hesitation. "What about the Riddles? What about my father?"
"If Bonn was here he may have left traps or wards, I'd prefer not to find them while protecting you and this creature. We'll be back."
