Pick Your Poison | Tom Riddle |

Chapter Thirty Five: Where We Stand

《 Quick Note: So this chapter and the next are going to to tie up some loose ends for the story. I've made my mind up and there will be a sequel. But just to clear any confusion beforehand. More details to come! Enjoy! 》

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Wool's Orphanage was a ghastly place that seemed to have a perfect spot under the stormy clouds that rolled in.

Even her father looked disgusted at it wondering why she'd be associated with anyone here. At one time, she would have thought the same thing. Once she told him this is where Tom lived, he immediately felt guilty and agreed to let the boy stay with them til school started up again. Of course under a ton of supervision.

But he dropped her off, assuring her it would be best she apparate home once she was finished here and Eleanor walked down the lonely brick walls to the steel door entrance of the Orphanage.

When Eleanor walked in, she was greeted with a high ceilings that were chipped and stained and brick walls and a single buzzing light. To her sides was a waiting room with old couches, a table and a radio. Few people sat there, some holding children and some looking deathly ill. Even she felt out of place in her Cabinet worthy attire and almost wanted to hold her breath.

But she came up to the receptionist desk which was separated by a higher height from where she stood on the ground.

"What do you want?" the old lady asked sounding impatient.

Her bushy gray hair and gnarled face which was due to the wrinkles looked like one of the elves from the bank.

"I'm here to visit Tom Riddle."

"You a psychiatrist?" her high pitched accent scoffed, her beady eyes becoming visible under her heavily caked eyelids.

She frowned to herself, wishing this lady was replaced by someone else but instead, straightened her posture.

"I'm a friend you filthy old crow and you will let me visit him." Eleanor snapped, her eyes skimming through her old deteriorating mind with a narrowed glare.

The lady looked horrified and it pleased Eleanor to have her around her finger now.

Without another word, she called one of the nurses and soon enough, she was being escorted down the brick hallways and their concrete floors. From what she noticed at first glance it was a fairly clean spot. The lights were fine, there were no rats, and the doors were just plain wood. It reminded her of one of the stations the Brits had during the first war but with rooms in place now.

The nurse in her pearly white uniform was silent. She wondered why there were nurses here. Maybe it was because they had many sick people in their waiting room and she happened to be close by. But something else felt off about this place.

When she approached another door to the right of the hallway, the Nurse quietly opened it and left, allowing her to step into the room.

Right away, she felt the smallness of it.

There was a tall drawer and a bed in which Tom laid on his back upon and there was a small desk between his bed and the wall, half brick and half paint.

Her heart could break just thinking that Tom had to grow up in these walls. In the few seconds it tool for her to make observations, the fact that Tom had been here since his birth still did not sink in. This was his home and she felt like she had a deep understanding of why he is the way he is.

"What are you doing here?" Tom asked, raising his head with a tired look that didn't look the slightest bit welcoming.

His voice was on the border of snapping and she could see it in his eyes as the scanned her from head to toe.