O r p h a n ● Tom Riddle [Harry Potter Fanfiction]

⑬ Treize - 10:00AM | 10:00PM

Earlier that morning: Part 2

All was quiet in Mrs. Wools Orphanage. The coroner came, sliding past the few members of uniformed police idly smoking their lit cigarettes around the hallway of the orphanage. He slid into the room, and then past Mrs. Pam who sat unspoken, hunched over the body of a child laying still in a pool of dark red liquid. The old coroner, near death himself with lines carved deep in his skin, stared down at the child. The coroner bent down, casting aside the bloodied hands of the woman beside him. "Too young..." he spoke under his breath as he began to examine the body of the child.

The child was a young boy named Billy.

It was only a coincidence that the boy was the same age as his grandson, it was only a coincidence that the boy held the same name as his grandson. It was only a coincidence, but one that made the coroners bones shake.

The woman beside him slowly got up, almost like a ghost, she moved lightly into the hallway.

Mrs. Pam's placed her hands bloodied hands on the shoulder of one of the uniformed police. "Please, please smoke outside."

The policeman scowled, haphazardly shaking her off his shoulder, he and the rest of the men left the hall, and moved beyond the guard's metal gates. Mrs. Pam continued along the hall, past the two children standing by the steps of the stairs. She didn't acknowledge them, and so she continued. Blood dripping from the tips of her fingers, she continued further down the hall, and deeper into staff housing. Away from where children were allowed to enter; the hall in which they feared most.

The two children, one unaware of the events of the morning, and the other very much there this morning, continued to talk casually. Their chatter only paused as a group of five small bodies hurried past them, the top of a red bow standing out amongst the grey followed behind them. The two watched as the five paused at the door of the mess hall, pushing the red bow to the front of the small crowd, pinching her skin as they did. They spoke in hushed whispers, deep into her ear, daring the red bow to open the door, they kept tugging at her clothes, pulling at her hair, but the two by the stairs were very much unaware. They saw her, they all watched her as her hand reached out towards the doorknob. The five shrieked as the girls finger brushed against the wooden sphere. They ran, further down the hall, some almost tripping over themselves as they fled. All of them, cowards. The girl had become pale, her fingers shook, and she became aware of the two by the stairs. Watching her. With fear on her shoulders she ran, she ran without a second thought, and tripped over her own two feet. Sneaking a look behind her, she felt more afraid of the two by the stairs than she did of what lay behind the door, and so in desperation she dragged herself back up. With her knees burning she quickly reached for the lavatory door, praying it was unlocked. To her joy, it was.

Present:

In her mind there were only screams. She could not physically push herself any further back into the corner of the cupboard, and so she did it mentally. Desperately, Vivienne, tried to distance herself from the scene before her as much as possible. Praying, only that the man would finally leave, but he did not. She watched as large hands dragged Anatolia from the cupboard, her skull lolling as if she were a ragdoll. She heard the creaking of springs from a bed, and she had to mentally debate with herself whether to run out now or wait it out.

A knock came from the door and the bed creaked again. Anatolia's lifeless body returned to the cupboard and its doors shut once again. Vivienne's hand reached out, her fingers shaking, her brows furrowed, and her eyes were filled with sadness as she reached out for Anatolia once more. Brushing a thumb against her cheek, all Vivienne could feel was coldness. Vivienne couldn't help herself, even though she hadn't known this girl for any time at all, she felt close to her. As if in death, they shared a bond. She shuddered. The bond irked her, yet being near death seem to calm her down. She couldn't quite explain it, was she crazy? Perhaps death obsessed? Vivienne shook her head furiously, she didn't want such thoughts, such ideas.