Tom Thomas Riddle had always believed himself to be fate's favorite.
A distinguished family, astonishing good looks, memories of a century to come, and a quiet, gentle wife with black hair and dark eyes. She loved tending flowers and plants and talking to little animals, so he wrote fairy tales about how she was a true princess. Life in London wasn't as luxurious as in Little Hangleton, but it was comfortable enough.
Until, after an argument, he slipped and fell into the water.
As icy river water filled his mouth and nose and his consciousness faded, Thomas saw his wife reach out to him, and the madness in those black eyes, a madness he'd never seen before.
When he woke, it was 1973.
He was still Tom Riddle, but his beloved had vanished without a trace, his parents had long since died, and his vast inheritance had disappeared into thin air.
The once-proud young master was left with nothing but a handsome face. He had nothing at all.
Back in his hometown of Little Hangleton, the familiar Riddle Manor had long since become a haunted house that everyone was afraid to talk about.
Thomas thought this was the worst of it, but he had no idea that the true identity fate had in store for him was far more absurd and terrifying than being a pauper.
[Glory belongs to Rowling, the characters belong to the original work, and any OOC is the author's.]
It's rare to see another interpretation of the story of Old Tom and Merope
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