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Half a century ago, something strange and horrible happened there, ... Every version of the tale, however, started in the same place: fifty years before, at daybreak on a fine summer's morning, when the Riddle House had still been well kept and impressive a maid had entered the drawing room to find all three Riddles dead.
...
Elderly Mr and Mrs Riddle had been rich, snobbish and rude, and their grown-up son, Tom, had been even more so.
...
that the only person he had seen near the house on the day of the Riddle's deaths had been a teenage boy, a stranger, dark-haired and pale.
'You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father,' ... and I killed my father,...
...
'You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was ... he didn't like magic, my father ...
'He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage ... but I vowed to find him ... I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name ... Tom Riddle ... '
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