Just as he stepped out of the woods, Tom frowned.
He smelled something metallic… like rust.
The last time he'd smelled something like this was back in the Forbidden Forest.
That time, Wade had slit the throats of three goblins right in front of him and an older student…
"The smell of blood!"
Sure enough, Tom soon spotted a corpse lying not far ahead.
As he got closer, he realized just how gruesome it was.
The body had been torn apart—only the pale face remained intact.
A rifle lay several meters away, the barrel twisted like a corkscrew…
Tom looked at the somewhat familiar face and recognized it as one of the Riddle estate's guards.
When Mr. Riddle had introduced him to the household, he'd met all of them…
"Severing Charm…"
It was typically used to cut up difficult potion ingredients.
This was the first time he'd seen it used on a person.
Whoever had come—their brutality had far exceeded Tom's expectations.
He realized now that there was likely nothing he could do to help…
And if the guards had ended up like this, could Mr. Riddle's family possibly still be alive?
Almost certainly not…
At that thought, a strange, inexplicable wave of sorrow welled up in Tom's chest.
It was a feeling he'd never experienced before.
Stifling the urge to vomit, Tom carefully avoided the blood as he stepped past the body.
Although he knew his own strength couldn't possibly match that of the murderer…
At the very least, he could sneak a glance and find out who had done it.
Once he knew, he could quietly leave.
Even if he got discovered, he still had the phoenix feather Portkey—he had a way out.
But...
But a nameless fury was rising from deep inside him, resisting the idea of retreating quietly.
Right now, he wanted to kill someone.
As Tom moved closer to the main manor at the center of the estate, the stench of blood in the air grew thicker.
And the number of corpses on the ground increased…
Without exception, every single one of them had died a horrific death.
This wasn't just murder—it was slaughter.
It looked as though the killer bore a deep, personal grudge against the Riddle family…
Tom approached the manor and looked up at the 1st floor.
At the moment, it was the only part of the house with the lights still on.
Faint voices could be heard coming from above.
Tom crept over to the base of the wall, tightened the Invisibility Cloak around himself, and quietly muttered a spell.
In the next second, his body began to rise slowly.
He stopped once he reached the 1st-floor window, then carefully poked his head forward to peek inside…
...
...
While Tom hovered outside the 1st-floor window using the Levitation Charm, peering inside.
In the dining room, several ugly-looking men sat around the table. They were tearing into steaks with brute force while sneering at the four people lying on the floor.
Aside from being hideous, these men all had one thing in common: each of them held a wand.
Wade had once told him that among wizards, those who looked especially grotesque were either pure-bloods or Dark wizards. And if you happened to run into a Dark wizard from a pure-blood family, you'd better pray for yourself—because those types weren't just powerful, they were twisted too.
Tom couldn't tell which kind these men were, but one thing was certain: they were Dark wizards.
Under the dim candlelight, Tom soon managed to get a good look at the four people on the floor.
Two of them were his grandparents. Beside them, the butler, Mr. August, was also lying flat on his back, eyes closed.
Aside from those three, there was another man facedown.
Tom couldn't see his face clearly, but he could guess—it was likely his cheap father, the man he'd never formally met.
Standing in front of the four of them, there was another figure.
Tom couldn't see the man's face—he was facing away from the window.
"Crucio!" the wizard snarled, aiming the Cruciatus Curse directly at the man on the floor.
"Urrrrrrrrgh…" The man instantly curled up, revealing a face strikingly similar to Tom's own.
It was old Tom, his expression twisted in agony, sweat soaking his disheveled grey hair.
Clearly, by the time Tom arrived, this hadn't been the first time the curse had been cast.
Moments later, the wizard stopped, clearly skilled in controlling the curse's intensity—he withdrew it just before old Tom reached his breaking point.
And then, after a pause, cast it again.
There was no mistaking it—his hatred for old Tom ran deep.
Watching his father, mangled and broken on the floor, Tom gripped his wand tighter outside the window.
There were too many wizards in that room. He didn't stand a chance.
After finishing another round of the Cruciatus Curse, the wizard finally stopped for good.
He crouched down, grabbed old Tom's graying hair, and yanked his head up.
"This is just a bit of interest, you filthy pig!" the wizard shouted, panting with rage. "You and that whore both deserve to die! You deserve it!"
Old Tom's lips trembled, but he couldn't utter a single word.
"Now… tell me, where's that little bastard? He took something he had no right to take! And now, I'm taking it back!"
Outside the window, Tom stared at his back, his eyes filled with venomous hatred.
The moment the man spoke, he recognized the voice.
Morfin Gaunt… his uncle.
Even though he felt nothing for his so-called father—this was even their first meeting—
Morfin Gaunt… that mongrel cur, he dared come for revenge? How dare he?!
Old Tom's body was trembling, still unable to say anything.
"Oi, if you're gonna interrogate him, maybe don't break him first," another wizard nearby jeered. "He's already in bits—you really think you'll get anything out of him now?"
"Shut up!" Morfin roared, humiliated and furious.
The other wizard sneered at him. "Gaunt, I'm not one of your lackeys. If you hadn't promised this Muggle family was loaded, and that we could take all their gold once we were done, I wouldn't have bothered showing up."
"Hurry it up already," another dark wizard said impatiently. "What's the point of talking to some loser who can't even deal with Muggles on his own?"
Morfin's face flushed bright red from the insults.
But under the malicious stares of these vicious men, he shrank his neck and didn't dare lash out, choking back the shame and fury.
"I… I just want to get my ring back. I don't care about anything else they own…"
"Hah, you planning to split the loot with us or something?" the first wizard stood up with a look of contempt. "You think the Gaunt family's still what it was centuries ago? Let's go find the vault, boys. Leave him."
The other wizards stood up at once and eagerly followed the lead wizard downstairs.
Soon, the sound of rummaging and overturned furniture came from the first floor.
Morfin turned back toward old Tom lying on the ground. "It's all your fault… you filthy pig. If it weren't for you, the Gaunt family wouldn't be down to just me!"
He took a deep breath, then said again, "Tell me, where's that filthy little brat you had with that whore? Don't even think about lying. I saw him coming back in your carriage just yesterday!"
Old Tom weakly raised his head and, for the first time, met the eyes of the twisted-faced Morfin Gaunt.
"That Kid is… that.. ugh.."
"Speak! Tell me where that kid is!!"
"I'll speak… I'll speak.. That Kid is.. none of your fucking business, you pathetic, inbred, ugly freak! Fucking coward! Where was this superior tone when talking to your own kind, huh!? Why don't you go drown yourself in your own piss? Ha… haha.. trying to get your stuff back? How'd you even manage to get robbed by a kid? You worthless piece of trash, hahaha…"
Old Tom suddenly spat out a whole string of insults, leaving Morfin stunned—and even Tom outside the window completely dumbfounded.
Honestly, after being tortured with the Cruciatus Curse, as a Muggle, old Tom shouldn't have even been able to talk.
In Tom's eyes, after suffering such agony, even if he could speak, his so-called father should've confessed everything right away.
He never imagined that this cheap father of his would just start hurling abuse like that…
Was this really the same man who hadn't even dared to meet him properly?
Wasn't he supposed to be weak and spineless?
"You filthy muggle! I'll kill you!"
Morfin was practically exploding with rage. He could endure being mocked by the other dark wizards—but this filthy Muggle? This Muggle dared insult him? Look down on him? How dare he?! How DARE he?!
Seeing the green light flash before him, even without understanding magic, old Tom knew he was about to die.
A bitter smile appeared on his face—it seemed like he was mocking Morfin, or perhaps mocking his own pitiful life.
"Haah.. All you magical people, always uncaring of us non-magicals.. you know what? Fuck you! And fuck your wizardry!" he spat his final curse, then closed his eyes, quietly waiting for death to come.
________
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