As soon as they all appeared to have left, she leaned over to Harry, motioning for him to follow her inside of her office. It was the same office as beforehand, though she definitely wasn't the same woman, since she was of a considerably larger size, and this was, well, many, many years later.
"'Oy do know somethin' of that Tom Riddle kid, ya' see. Terrible, terrible things, but nonetheless, I remember 'im well."
Harry leaned over, clearly attached to her words, which gave the woman a sense of pride, importance. In turn, she sat back further into her chair, and grabbed a chipped mug from the table, containing a liquid with Harry assumed was coffee. After a long pause, she still had not continued, most likely stringing him along in hopes for a larger sack of coins. Harry noticed this, and was not amused.
"Get on with it, will you?"
She sighed, taking a sip of her coffee, and finally, looking up at him, began to speak once more.
"Oy 'vas a little girl, when 'e lived 'ere. Me mum 'vas de head of dis place, and, she 'ad quite the run of 'er money. 'E scared me greatly, that Riddle, you neve' knew 'wat 'e 'vould do ta'you, 'wat 'e 'vould want ta' take. 'E went to 'dis boarding school during 'da year, 'oy assume for incredibly troubled boys."
She reminded him somewhat of the Dursley's, ignorant and scared. Yet, there was a great difference between Riddle and himself, at least, he hoped. Riddle tortured people, Harry had no negative intentions, right?
"'E did this awful thing to one boy's pet, 'e.."
"I heard," Harry said abruptly. She gave him a strange look, and he quickly mumbled afterwards, "I know the story."
"Who are ya', anyways? 'Wat business do ya' 'ave? Tom Riddle died years past, am oy right?"
Harry didn't feel like arguing with her, it would be to costly to explain to her the entire story of Voldemort, the wizarding world, and Hogwarts. He decided to simply, go along with it, and, wasn't afraid to mention his well, advantage, over her.
"Look, do you want your money or not?"
She looked at him a bit angrily, and took another sip of coffee, stubbornly. She couldn't deny that she wanted the money, thus, she soon began once agin, after seemingly "making her point" with immature gestures.
"L-oy-ke oy said, Riddle 'vent ta' dis' school. Oy only saw 'im in da' summer, 've used to all go to this almost, camp fa' orphans. It 'vas nice, a small town, near 'da water. Other orphanages 'vere there, I never saw much de' Riddle. 'E always thought 'imself better, 'vas quite a loner, oy've heard. It's a bit expected, though, 'da other orphanages could make one feel pretty lowly, 'aving more money than us, 'specially one from 'de France. One time, 'e took two others out and," she paused, "Oy assume you 'ave heard, huh?"
Harry nodded, glad she wasn't still inquiring about his business.
"You know 'vat, let me show 'ya 'is room. None of 'da kids will sleep 'dere, they say it's haunted. oy reckon it is."
Harry couldn't help but be grateful for her volunteering, she had been incredibly stubborn the rest of the time, and he had doubted he would get anywhere during the visit.
Before long, he found himself being led up a rickety staircase, leading to a hallway filled with rooms. She walked about three-quarters the way down the hall, then turned to her left, and creaked open a door, dusty as though it hadn't been opened in ages.
The room looked as same as the memory, though the corners of the ceiling were filled with cobwebs, due to the fact that it wasn't in use.
"I was wondering," he said, trying not to push her over the brim, "if I could perhaps have a minute alone in here, you know, to scope things out."
She gave him a stern look, and stayed put at the door. He quickly gave up on the idea, not having much time left.
There were still a few possessions in the room, including a few sets of clothes, and an old robe, probably from Hogwarts. The closet was considerably dusty, the floor of it was covered in old rugs, which had been chewed through by mice and rats. Touching it as little as possible, he pulled it away, and, with dismay, found nothing underneath it. He turned to leave, yet, out of the corner of his eye, found something slightly shiny. Nonchalantly, as though to not be suspicious, he bent down once more into the closet, his eyes examining the area, which, to his glee, shined of bronze. Sliding the object out into the light, he noticed it was a diary, scratched enough so that the lock had only the slightest bit of gleam left to it. He immediately had a thought. What if, in fact, this was the inspiration for the Horcrux he had tackled in his second year? Opening it, he found much writing, yet, nonetheless, it was not in the same familiar handwriting as Riddle's diary. He assumed it to be a possession of another orphan, that perhaps Riddle had stolen, yet, he couldn't help but briefly noticed the words "Diagon Alley" flash before his eyes. The item was quite mysterious, and the wizarding words sent a thrill of anxiety and excitement through his spine. His visit had not been in vain.
He picked it up, beginning to walk to the doorway, when the lady coughed, her eye glancing towards the diary. Harry smiled, setting it down on the floor, then, sat down on the bed.
"This room is sure full of cobwebs," he said, in a quiet yet casual voice, pointing towards the corner in the far left. Her eyes immediately glanced towards it, and he snatched up the diary, throwing it into his pack.
"Well, it's getting late," he said standing up, as her eyes glanced once more towards her visitor. "I'll think I'll go home now."
It was not until after he had left that the lady noticed she had been robbed, robbed of the diary, and her small black velvet satchel of gold.