Author's Note: If you remember at the beginning of this story, I mentioned that there would only be a few chapters wherein I copy a lot of the dialogue from the actual books. This is one of those chapters. I had to copy exactly what happens during Tom's and Morfin's conversation in Little Hangleton. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short chapter (Wolfdawn, this one's for you!) and expect another chapter within the next week or so. It will be titled "Invincibility" and will be about Tom's return to Hogwarts for sixth year and his growing obsession with the idea of immortality.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights to it belong strictly to J.K Rowling.

I am simply having fun with my imagination.

...His arm was still aching, though it felt sorer now than before. He rolled up his sleeve and examined it. There was a very, very faint scratch on his arm now. A very faint scratch indeed...

CHAPTER 16: LITTLE HANGLETON

Tom's summer holidays that year were much better than he'd ever had. The first month was rather dull as he spent every possible minute in his room, rereading the books he had read hundreds of times before. He spent a lot of time gazing down at the diary…the beautiful, beautiful horcrux. He could not believe how much affection he felt for this one simple object. He had not intended on making one himself, but it seemed to be the only sensible thing to do when Myrtle died. She was already dead so he might as well have used her death to his benefit. And it worked like a charm.

Mrs. Cole and the other orphans did not bother Tom at all that summer so he was spared having to jinx them. Though it was illegal to perform magic outside of school while underage, Tom really yearned to try the Cruciatus curse out on Mrs. Cole. He had a distinct feeling that the pain he used to cause Billy as a child was somewhat related to the curse.

Tom's Hogwarts letter arrived rather early that summer, so he wasted no time in going down to Diagon Alley to do all his shopping. He had told Mrs. Cole that he was out doing errands for school, which was partially true. However, Tom had greater plans for what he would do after he was done with Diagon Alley. The time had come at last and he was most eager to do this.

Mr. Q of Flourish and Blotts was pleased to see Tom as always, and even offered to let Tom purchase new books for second-hand price, seeing as how Tom had helped him so much the last two summers. Since Diagon Alley was rather empty at this time of year, Tom did not hesitate to go down to Knockturn Alley and visit Borgin again. He was most pleased to see Tom and offered him a brand new collection of Imperius powder for half-price, which Tom accepted without hesitation.

As soon as he was done with all his shopping, Tom headed back to the orphanage and snuck his things into his room. Then, he left again and hauled a muggle car. The driver was very talkative and asked a lot of questions, but Tom merely dismissed them all and simply instructed him where to go. Finally, at around midday, Tom had arrived at his destination. He paid the driver, got out of the car, and waited for him to leave. Then, he looked around.

Little Hangleton. A completely deserted village. It was nestled between two steep hills with a clearly visible church and graveyard. Across the valley on the opposite hillside, was a large manor house surrounded by a wide expanse of velvety green lawn. The whole of the village was covered by a layer of thick, dark clouds. A stranger could have easily mistaken it for being late evening. Tom made to approach the house but caught something out of the corner of his eye. Beyond the hills, in the far distance, was what looked like a little shack. A man—who appeared like dot from where Tom was standing—was yelling at an object on the ground, which, as Tom squinted his eyes, he realised was a snake. He heard a distant hiss and then a door slam. Tom decided to go for the shack first.

He reached the front door soon enough and stared down at the snake that was slithering nearby. It seemed to recognize him and did not make any movements of attack.

"Is your master home?" Tom asked it.

"Yes," the snake answered in a low hiss.

Tom picked up the lamp that was on the floor by the door, tapped it with his wand to make it light up, and knocked once loudly on the door. No one answered. Feeling impatient, he tapped the handle with his wand once, and the door creaked open. Tom stood in the doorway, taking it all in.

The house was indescribably filthier than anything Tom had ever seen. The ceiling was thick with cobwebs, the floor coated in grime; moldy and rotting food lay upon the table amidst a mass of crusted pots. The only light came from a single guttering candle placed at the feet of a man with hair and beard so overgrown Tom could see neither eyes nor mouth. He was slumped in an armchair by the fire, with a wand in his right hand and a short knife in his left. For a few seconds, Tom and the man stared at each other. Then, the man staggered upright, the many empty bottles at his feet clattering and tinkling across the floor.

"YOU!" he bellowed. "YOU!"

And he hurtled drunkenly at Tom, wand and knife held aloft.

"Stop," said Tom in Parseltongue.

The man skidded into the table, sending moldy pots crashing to the floor. He stared at Tom. There was a long silence while they contemplated each other. The man broke it.

"You speak it?"

"Yes, I speak it," said Tom.

He moved forward into the room, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. He stared around at the dirty shack, his face expressionless. How pathetic it was for anyone to live in such a hellhole.

"Where is Marvolo?" Tom asked the man after a moment's silence.

"Dead," said the man. "Died years ago, didn't he?"

Tom frowned at him.

"Who are you, then?"

"I'm Morfin, ain't I?"

Tom glared at him.

"Marvolo's son?"

"Course I am, then…" said the man, drunkenly.

A vicious glint crossed Tom's eyes. So this was his dear mother's brother. His uncle. The one who had let him grow up in the orphanage. A Gaunt. The last remaining descendant of Salazar Slytherin, apart from Tom himself.

Morfin pushed the hair out of his dirty face, the better to see Tom. He had a black-stoned gleaming ring on his right hand.

"I thought you was that muggle," whispered Morfin. "You look mighty like that muggle."

"What muggle?" said Tom, sharply, looking away from the ring and meeting Morfin's eyes.

"That muggle what my sister took a fancy to, that muggle what lives in the big house over the way," said Morfin, and he spat unexpectedly upon the floor between them. "You look right like him. Riddle. But he's older now, in'e? He's older'n you, now I think on it…"

So he was talking about his father then. The muggle that his mother had had him with. And he had just told Tom that he lived in that big house. So the manor that Tom had just now crossed was the Riddle House. He eyed it through the window hungrily. He could almost see Tom Riddle Sr. in the distance, laughing pathetically.

Morfin looked slightly dazed and swayed a little, still clutching the edge of the table for support. "He come back, see," he added stupidly.

Tom was gazing at Morfin with slightly narrowed eyes. How would he go about it? He knew perfectly well that the Ministry would not know that he was the one who'd performed magic, seeing as how this was a wizard residence. Still…he could not just go about it recklessly. He had to think of a plan to make it completely untraceable back to him.

"Riddle came back?" he asked Morfin, though his mind was elsewhere, plotting.

"Ar, he left her, and serve her right, marrying filth!" said Morfin, spitting on the floor again. "Robbed us, mind, before she ran off…where's the locket? Eh, where's the Slytherin locket?"

Tom did not answer. He had only half-heard what Morfin had said. A brilliant, wonderful, glorious idea had just crossed his cunning mind.

Morfin had suddenly grown angry and brandished his knife, shouting "DISHONORED US, SHE DID, THAT LITTLE SLUT! And who're you, coming here and asking questions about all that? It's over, innit…it's over!"

He looked away, staggering slightly, and Tom moved forwards. Morfin turned rather pale. Tom neared him and pointed his wand right between his eyes. "Stupify."

Morfin fell back into his armchair, unconscious. Tom took his wand from him, hesitated, and then took the ring from his finger as well. He placed it on his own finger and headed over to the Riddle House, leaving the lamp behind as well.

He knew that he would never forget the look on his father's face when he had pointed the wand at him and sent a jet of green light that hit him square in the chest. His father had been so taken aback that he had no time to try and run. The old man and woman, who stood in the corner of the room, trembling from head to toe, pleaded Tom to spare their lives. But he looked blankly in their direction before killing them as well. The three bodies collapsed to the floor with loud thumps. Tom eyed his father carefully. He really did look a lot like him. He made a mental note that he would have to do something about this later. Not wanting to waste more time in this dreadful place, he set to work. He whispered the same incantations that he'd done back in the girls bathroom shortly after Myrtle's death just a few months before. It was a rather difficult task to do and he had to try it a couple of times to get it right. When the process was complete an hour later—and he knew it was much stronger this time since there were three deaths, not one—the ring on his finger vibrated slightly. Pleased, Tom turned around and departed for the shack again.

He whispered complicated incantations in Morfin's ears and knew that, though his uncle was unconscious, he could hear them loud and clear. Tom placed his uncle's wand in his lap, and then, feeling pleased, departed from the village.

Once back in the orphanage, he put the ring and the diary side-by-side on his bed and glanced down at them. He adored them. They were bits of his soul…pieces of him. He would do everything in his power to guard them and protect them. He spent most of that night thinking back on how genius his plan had been. He distinctly heard, just as he was leaving the village, an old maid's shriek "THE RIDDLES HAVE BEEN MURDERED!" He knew that once the muggle authorities had been alerted, they would convict Morfin Gaunt. He knew perfectly well that Morfin would confess to the crime. For the first (and only time), Tom felt a little bit of gratitude for Morfin's existence, however worthless it may have seemed.

But despite having successfully created another horcrux, despite having strengthened his powers, and despite having gotten away with it all, Tom's happiness came from the mere fact that his father was now finished. He was done. Gone. And there was nothing left to link Tom to him anymore.

The next day, Tom awoke early to find that a letter had been slipped under his door. It had the Hogwarts crest on the front, and Tom's full name on the back. Tom ripped it open and sat on his bed, reading:

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS:

PASS GRADES

Outstanding: O

Exceeds Expectations: E

Acceptable: A

FAIL GRADES

Poor: P

Dreadful: D

Troll: T

Tom Marvolo Riddle has achieved:

Ancient Runes: O

Astronomy: O

Care of Magical Creatures: O

Charms: O

Defense Against the Dark Arts: O

Herbology: O

History of Magic: O

Potions: O

Transfiguration: E

Tom stared down at the piece of parchment. He had achieved 8 Outstanding OWLs and 1 Exceeds Expectations in Transfiguration. Dumbledore. Of course. Why, he knew this would happen. Looking curiously down at the little black E, Tom felt another slight tinge in his arm. He casually glanced down at it and noticed another, very faint little scratch.

Note: In case you're wondering how Tom's just able to make these two horcruxes, as you know, he has spent a lot of time reading his school books as well as the ones he got from Knockturn Alley and the ones in the Restricted Section of the school library. He has thoroughly studied the process for making horcruxes. He has not mastered it yet but he has successfully created two. The diary was a 'just cause' thing because Myrtle was dead and he was there and he decided "What the heck". The ring was another "just cause" thing, but now in the next chapters (and in the end of this one), you'll start to see his growing admiration for these objects as they are bits of him. He will literally become obsessed with horcruxes and the idea of immortality, which is where dear old Professor Slughorn comes in.