Chapter One of the sequel to To Revive a Soul is coming soon. It's currently mapped out for a September release, but that's tentative; I'm starting a new job in September and may need some time to adjust before getting on a weekly schedule with this.
Here is a preview, as requested, like, two months ago, lol. It's more of a 7k special at this point, honestly. But... please enjoy this look at TFH from an all-new point of view.
~•~
Reinhard couldn't hold it in. Losing her was one thing, but to hear the Headmaster say her name as if her loss was some sort of tragedy pricked little needles into his spine. Dippet had said that she was collateral in the battle against Grindelwald. And maybe every other name he listed in that long, long list of deceased students was collateral. But Eleanor wasn't, and he'd known that the moment he'd seen Tom Riddle stalk back into the common room days after, shoulders hung low and eyes bleak.
And the way Dippet had just thrown her name out there with fifteen other names and then moved on... it was truly a slap in the face. It didn't even matter that Slytherin had taken the House Cup by a landslide or that he'd be walking out of the castle graduated with a job at the Ministry lined up for him.
None of it mattered.
Reinhard stole a glance at the far end of the table, feeling his knuckles turn white on his fork as he watched Riddle. He didn't seem to care at all about her legacy, munching away on his supper as if he weren't even paying attention to the little memorial Eleanor did get from the school. And even after he'd said what he did that evening on the Astronomy Tower weeks ago, he paid Reinhard hardly any mind, keeping to himself and shutting himself in his room, just as he'd done for seven years on end.
For someone who claimed to understand what Reinhard was going through, he had a nasty way of showing it.
It was a struggle just to make it through the feast. Reinhard's appetite had vanished, and he picked at his food absentmindedly, eyes glazed over as they lazily moved between his plate and Riddle sitting a few seats down and across from him.
He zoned out. He had barely eaten anything by the time students were beginning to clear out of the tables and leisurely make their way back to their common rooms for the final time, and he just managed to grab a few drumsticks from a platter at the center of the table before everything was vanished by the kitchen elves. He'd smuggle them into his dormitory; maybe he'd feel up to eating later.
Reinhard recalled that Riddle had told him to meet tomorrow near the Head Boy's compartment in the train, but after the feast, he felt sick to his stomach just thinking about confronting him. He shuddered to think what would be said in that compartment, what Riddle would be able to talk him into. And it seemed the universe was just as worried; the air outside the castle felt humid on the back of Reinhard's neck as he stepped through the main gates for a bit of fresh air, clouds hovering over what would have been a clear day.
If five years of Divination classes were enough to teach him about omens, this certainly felt like one.
He ducked back inside of the castle after a few moments of watching from a distance the boats docking into the Black Lake, ready to take the first years back to the Hogwarts Express first thing in the morning. He almost missed the days when things were so easy. These days he went back and forth on carriages pulled by thestrals, and every year he watched more and more students turn their heads to look at them in some sort of solemn awe. He remembered that, when he was only a third year, he wanted nothing more than to be able to tell what the creatures looked like, thought that witnessing death was a fair trade-off. But now? He thought it was almost unfair that he couldn't see them, considering how well he knew death, how hard it had affected him.
He knew Tom could see them.
Maybe he'd ask him one day, what they look like. It seemed like a much better secret club to be in on than whatever those goddamned Death Eaters were, in hindsight.
Though... Reinhard had a feeling he wouldn't be needing to ask for much longer, not if Riddle had anything to say about it.