"Wonderful." Then when Miss Reynolds is finished, Mrs Cole will bring her to the Riddle child's room.

She follows quietly. 

It's one of the very few single rooms, and Mrs Cole knocks perfunctorily on the door before opening it. "Riddle? I'd like you to meet someone. This is Miss Reynolds. She'll be adopting you today."

Suspicious glare over the top of a book from where she's reclined on the bed.

She returns the suspicious glare with a fleeting expression of surprise.  

"Say hello, Riddle," Mrs Cole encourages her.

Mrr. Vague-grunt-that-maybe-could-be-a-word.

"...Hello."

"Riddle..."

"'lo."

"Why don't you get up and start packing? I'm sure Miss Reynolds would be happy to help-"

She sits bolt upright, a fierce expression on her face. "Do not touch my things!"

(This sentiment, Fay may note, is accompanied by a sensation like unto a dozen tiny fists beating on her Occlumency shields.)

Her shields are much stronger than that. She simply raises her hands, and says, "I won't touch them." Then to the matron: "Madam, thank you for your time, but I believe I am able to take things from here."

Very gentle nudge to accept that, and to not think any further on the odd girl she's foisted off onto what's likely a distant relative. (It almost certainly won't be visible to anyone coming behind Fay to check.)

"Of course. A pleasure again to make your acquaintance, Miss Reynolds." And she departs.

...Squint.

She lowers her hands and gives the girl a small smile. "You're an exceptional child," she says, tone light. 

"Who are you really?" she demands.

"Fay Reynolds. A wizard - like you could be." She holds out her hand - and a small red ball of light starts gathering over her palm. 

"Magic," she breathes. "It's real."

"It is, Miss Riddle."

She'll forgive 'Miss Riddle' for magic. "Teach me."

"If you'll come with me, I will."

"All right." She doesn't like the orphanage anyway. She gets up to start gathering up her things (a stack of books, some shiny rocks, a small knife, two changes of clothes).

She waits patiently - her expression flitting from something complicated and withdrawn to a neutral face if the girl glances her way. 

(Which she does, once or twice. Magic or no, best to keep an eye out.)

It doesn't take her long to finish packing. "Ready."