CW: orphanages, testing, reconstruction, Death, ghosts, food

Chapter Thirty-Two: One door closes, Another door opens

The house was full of jittery excitement the next morning. Merope was going to London to take her N.E.W.T.S. for the next couple days, and though Tom knew she was ready, even he felt a little nervous. In true Gaunt fashion though, no one talked about it all through breakfast. Only when Merope was getting ready to step into the Floo network did Marvolo finally say something.

"Merope," He said gruffly, holding her hands. "You are my daughter, and so I'm not at all worried about your tests. If they are any good at their jobs, you'll pass with flying colors."

She nodded, smiling bravely at him and at Tom. "I'll make you both proud. See you in a couple days."

And she was gone in a flare of green fire. Marvolo looked after her until the flames burned down, then sighed.

"Guess it's just us bachelor's now." He looked up at Tom. "You're off to your construction job, I suspect?"

Tom nodded. "You'll be alright here?"

"'Course I will." Marvolo grunted. "I managed just fine on my own before you lot came around, you know."

"Of course." Tom said bemusedly, as Marvolo wandered off to his room. He was likely going to spend most of the day either gardening or napping. Chuckling to himself, Tom went out into the snow to apparate off to the orphanage. He had a lot of work, and no obligations until dinnertime to do it.

Death and the crowd of children were waiting for him at the gate, eager to see more magic. And Tom had quite a bit of magic to do, though it would at least be done inside. They all marched behind him as he opened the front doors, then spread to all the various rooms in the house. Laughter and talking echoed around Tom as he went to work on the first floor, the pattering of ghostly feet overhead as he worked.

Tom thrived in details and intricacies, so he found himself lost in the process. He wanted the whole building to feel safe and nice, somewhere he would have been proud to live. Tom carved intricate details into the wood linings, securing the hardwood floors so they wouldn't splinter or break down with age. He also insulated the walls thoroughly, not wanting the weather to be able to penetrate the building in any way.

The offices, infirmary, and classrooms were made plain and functional. Tom wanted any personal characteristics to be given by the people that lived there rather than by himself. He wasn't a soft person by any means, and he didn't want his personal tastes to cloud the spaces.

He came to a rest in the newly finished kitchen, wiping sweat off his forehead. He'd packed a small lunch with him, so he stoked one of the great fireplaces and waited for it to get hot enough to cook. Tom was just about to start cooking when a ghost boy flew down the chimney and landed upside down.

"What exactly are you supposed to be doing?" Tom said, looking sideways at the boy, who was trying desperately to right himself.

"Well, you see, sir," The little boy piped up. "I'm suppos' to be a pirate, or sum'ing like it. Well at any rate I'm the bad bloke. So I've got to run, see?"

And he righted himself and took off, followed up by no less than six other ghostly children, all giving battle cries as they chased after their 'pirate'.

"I do love children." Death cooed, gracefully appearing out of the flames. "Don't you?"

"Yes, bloody brilliant." Tom grumbled. "Can I cook now?"

"Temper, temper." Death chided, though without any venom.

She glided elegantly over to one of the long tables Tom had just made, perching on top of it. Swinging her legs and high-heeled shoes, Death looked like a queen who had just decided to slum it for the day. Which, in a way, Tom supposed she was.

"Why do you do that?" Tom asked, stoking the fire and putting his food in it to cook.

"Do what?" Death smiled at him, crossing one leg over the other.

"You always sit on top of things instead of on the chairs. The only chair I've ever seen you properly sit in is the one behind your desk."

Death considered this for a moment, cocking her head sideways. Her long sleeved black overalls fit close to her body, flowing out around her ankles. As she thought, her shoes made a clicking sound on the bench beneath her.

"You know," She said eventually. "I dunno really. I suppose it's because I like defying expectations? Or maybe it's just the being higher up than everybody else part I like. I'll leave it up to you to analyze me."

Tom smirked, coming to sit down on the bench by her. He didn't know why, but his relationship with Death had shifted over time. He won't exactly say they were friends...but Tom didn't feel scared of her like he used to. Instead, he made conversations with her over his lunch, learning more about the tasks she had to do each day, besides bothering him.

"Well, it depends." Death mused. "I have to make sure everything's in order, but I don't meet each person individually. I do have a soft spot for children, along with some species like house elves. But usually they all come to see me at some point."

"They do?" Tom asked, taking another bite of his food.

"Certainly," Death said, like it was obvious. "My world is eternal and I have an open door policy. Of course everyone eventually comes to visit with me. There's a list or chart somewhere I think, but I leave that to somebody else."

"What's that like?" Tom could only imagine the yelling and cursing out she might handle daily.

"Oh, it's lovely." Death replied, a fond expression crossing her face. "I don't see the ones still processing their death. You're one of the few I've worked with in the early stages actually. But the majority of people who come in just want to tell me about their lives and sometimes thank me."

She dusted off her pants. "Not that I need thanks - it's just my job."

Death stood back up, smiling at Tom. "Let's keep going, shall we?"

"Alright." Tom abandoned his now-empty plate, following Death up onto the second floor.

"Now," Death remarked casually. "If you don't mind, I have a touch more experience with children than you do."

"By all means," Tom made a half bow, extending his hand to Death.

"Right." Death smiled brightly, extending her magic effortlessly. Bedrooms popped into existence all around them as they walked down the hallway. "Two per room, yes?"

Tom nodded. "Yes, I figured on keeping older children and staff above them - they'll have their own rooms."

She left Tom to bother with the bathrooms, which were tedious and absolutely boring. Death's magic created a certain whimsy to each bedroom, making each space feel invincible. Nothing would ever hurt these children, not even bad dreams. She added hidden paintings in each room, unique to each one for the children to find. By the time she'd finished, Tom had created an extensive bathroom, though she simply nodded that it was acceptable.

Tom had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. All of the ghost children had wandered in after they heard all of the noise, looking around in wonder for a few moments. When they saw the rooms though, everyone burst into chatter, climbing on top of all the beds and looking at all of the paintings Death had made. They loved it all, and told Death so enthusiastically.

"I'll leave you lot to it, then." Tom grumbled, sidling up the staircase to the third floor.

He wanted to make this a floor for older children and staff members, so the first thing he did was create separate wings for them. One wing for the adults, another for the children, with a door in the middle. These rooms were more refined, a little less whimsical than Death's. Again, Tom wanted any character to be made by the tenants, not himself. After another two bathrooms were set up though, and Tom was beginning to thoroughly hate plumbing.

Exhausted and cross from all the pipework, Tom slowly made his way back down the stairs. He met Death and the children on the main floor, where they waved to him as he left.

"I'll be back tomorrow. Nursery, playroom, and then that bloody elevator." Tom grunted, though Death looked excited.

"Don't be so cross, Tom." Death smirked. "I'll help you. So cheer up and get some rest."

"Cheer up, says Death." Tom muttered under his breath.

He apparated home, pleased to find Amata in the kitchen with a letter from Merope. He took the letter off of her, offering her a few pats and an owl treat before she flew over to a perch he'd made. Tom called for Marvolo, setting the letter down on the table while he got out the food for supper.

"What's it?" Marvolo grumbled, looking groggy and disheveled.

"Merope," Tom replied, turning to point at the letter. "She's written to us. I thought you'd want to read it first."

"Right," Marvolo sat at the table, ripping open the letter and reading it aloud.

"Dear father and Tom," He began, yawning his tiredness away.

"All's well here - I got settled at the Leaky Cauldron okay. The Ministry of Magic is absolutely massive, but luckily I found someone who helped me find my way. I had the Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts written exams in the morning, then the practicals in the afternoon. I think I did well, especially in Herbology. The examiner seemed impressed with my shield charms though, so Tom should be pleased. I'll write again tomorrow, hope you're both well. Love, Merope."

He sat the letter down on the table, looking pleased. "Told her, didn't I?"

"You certainly did." Tom agreed, setting a plate down in front of Marvolo before he took his own seat.

They ate together quietly for a while, until Marvolo broke the silence.

"Bit odd, isn't it?"

"What?" Tom asked, looking curiously at Marvolo.

"Well," He said thoughtfully. "You've been teaching Merope all this time, and now it's over."

"I suppose you're right."

Tom hadn't really thought about it that way. There would always be new things to learn, but Merope's education was technically over, for better or for worse. Her education would be done at St. Mungos now...

"Still," Marvolo continued, pushing around his peas. "You've got that new project of yours now. And we've still got to finish that bloody book."

"Right, we certainly do." Tom nodded, returning to his food.

They finished their meal, then set down to write Merope back together. They told her that they were doing just fine, that they were pleased she'd been working so hard and settled in easily, and that they looked forward to her owl. Sending off Amata, Tom yawned widely.

"Off to bed with you, Tom." Marvolo smirked. "You're half-asleep standing there."

Tom, too exhausted to argue with the old man, simply nodded and went upstairs to bed. Whether he liked it or not, he was getting older.

Notes:
Sorry there aren't daily updates anymore, but I'm writing it live now. All the previous chapters were pre-written, and I don't want to sacrifice quality over efficiency.

Happy Reading!