"Excuse me, sir- which way to Little Hangleton?"
The old man stooped slightly, cupping a hand to his ear. "What's that, son?"
"Little Hangleton, sir," repeated Tom Riddle patiently. "Which way is it?"
The old man straightened up, smiling. "Ah! Little Hangleton. Just straight down that road, son, and turn at the signpost. Are you going there to visit family?"
Tom's answering smile was as guileless and innocent as a baby bird. "I suppose so, sir."
With a nod and a smile back, the old man continued hobbling on his merry way.
Tom watched him go, fingering the wand in his trouser pocket. He hadn't particularly enjoyed donning Muggle clothing- but then, this was an important outing, and a nondescriptly dressed fifteen-year-old needn't cause a stir in the village.
Yet, anyway.
He walked on down the lane, thinking of nothing really in particular. He was mildly curious to see his father, see if they looked alike- and perhaps he would see his Riddle grandparents too. His mother's father he would see, and ask him a few things- or did he have a grandmother on that side, too? Tom somehow doubted that.
He turned at the signpost, obliterating his tracks as he walked. There wasn't a real reason to, but Tom did like to tie up loose ends. That was, after all, the purpose of this visit, was it not?
It was a fine, breezy summer day, and Tom guessed it was about midafternoon. He hadn't had lunch. He had decided that morning not to eat anything until the job was done.
Or perhaps he ought to meet his father and stay for dinner, get acquainted, enjoy some bonding with the man who had left his mother to die. What a fine idea!
Tom rounded a bend and suddenly, there was the village, nestled snugly between two hills, quaint and peaceful. There was a large manor house a bit away from the other buildings. That must be the squire's house.
His father's house.
Was he in there right now, perhaps with a new wife? Did he remember Tom's mother at all?
Tom smiled to himself. Answers would come later. He would have fun with the questions.