This crossover is weird, I'll admit. Even for me. But... HP4LYFEAMIRITE


Prologue

"Jaeger!" I hear, my ears pricking at a familiar voice of exasperation and annoyance. I falter, my grip freezing on the guy I'm holding. The guy I'm beating into the dirt. The one with the filthy mouth. The one who hurt Armin. I let my fist fly anyway and punch him square in the mouth, bursting the skin of his lip, and sending him sprawling in the mud. I let go in disgust as he curls into the fetal position, his arms coiling to protect his stomach. That I just spent fifteen minutes kicking the hell out of. I straighten up, looking in the direction of the Professor that shouted my name.

Ackerman.

He looks at me, his grey eyes narrowing.

"My office." he says. He doesn't raise his voice, but that's how I know. Of course, I'm in trouble. He turns on his heel and walks off across the grounds, cloak billowing behind him. I scowl and look down at the piece of shit crawling across the squelching grass to his wand. I kick him in the shin for good measure, and then boot his wand a good distance away. I grab my messenger bag and sling it over me, following the footsteps of the vanished Professor Ackerman.

"Can dish it out, but he sure can't take it.." I mutter, wiping the throbbing side of my mouth where the prick had landed a lucky hit with the back of my hand. I quickly tear my hand away though, grimacing and wrinkling my nose in disgust; I just wiped that bastard's blood on my face. My knuckles are bloody, red and angry-looking. Mud and grass stains soil my shoes and trousers, my shirt's disheveled and my tie has been ripped loose from where the twat had tried to hold me down. I wipe the blood off my hands and suck my knuckles, trying to calm the skin. I enter the castle, stuffing my hands in my pockets, trying to look innocent and like I hadn't just been in a fight. I doubt it pulls off.

I make my way to Ackerman's office, slowing to an ungainly shuffle as I approach his door. But it opens before I reach it, like he can see through the wood. Professor Ackerman frowns at me, stepping back to let me pass. I don't move, inwardly wincing; waiting for the blow.

"In." He says. A tone of voice that I'll never be able to argue against. Or at least I know I won't win. I go in.

"So, Eren. Who was it this time, brat?" Ackerman closes the door, strides past me, behind his desk and nods for me to sit. He addressed every student like this. He wasn't big on formality. Or manners. Ackerman was blunt, and to the point. He voiced his opinion, and didn't care much for time-wasters or excuses.

I dump my bag beside the chair and collapse into the seat. I sit up straight though, my hands on the arm rests. But I look at my knees.

I sigh and mumble, "Edgar Pacinian."

"And let me guess. He had it coming."

I flush red with anger at his bored but sarcastic tone of voice. My eyes flicker to meet his.

"He did." I seethe. But Ackerman stares me down. He raises an eyebrow.

"I'm sure."

I look back to my knees.

"So you felt you had to resort to physical, muggle violence. Magic was too good for him, is that right?"

I nod. My skin still prickles, my fingers curl into fists.

"So you beat him to a bloody pulp, instead of informing a member of staff of the problem, or issuing a formal complaint of Mr Pacinian's behaviour."

"Exactly how many times is this, Eren?"

I whip my head back up to look at him, instantly on the defense.

"I've never even touched the git before now."

"Language, Jaeger." Ackerman says drly, his fingers tapping against the desk. "And I'm not talking about Pacinian in particular. I'm talking about overall. This year. How many ah...incidents you've had."

My nails bite into my palms. I try to keep my temper in check, but it's getting harder to breath. My insides feel like they're being twisted into spaghetti. Professor Ackerman opens a drawer in his desk suddenly, ruffles through it with slender fingers, before withdrawing a fawn-coloured, enveloped folder. It's thickness spans the width of Ackerman's desk. Sheaths of parchment are sticking out in places. He opens it in front of him, his eyes scanning down the first page. His index finger follows, stopping half-way down. He taps the parchment lightly.

"Fourteen." He says, looking back to me. "Eight of which were serious."

I wrestle my fingers together, a swooping sensation sending my stomach through somersaults. I knew what was coming. Professor Ackerman shifts in his chair; I can hear him crossing his legs. He reaches for a cup of a steaming liquid on his desk. He sips from it, holding the porcelain cup in a bizarre manner, his left arm bending right-angles.

"You've been detained twice, suspended on four separate occasions, is it?" He glances back to the folder. "You've had counseling sessions with Madam Pomfrey that have had no effect whatsoever, I can see. And more detentions than I care to mention, none of which seem to prevent you from misbehaving and acting out." He sighs, closes the folder and rests ghostly, folded fingers over it. "We seem to have run out of preemptive measures."

I look back to him again, shame burning through my cold anger. Squirming through my body to singe my clothes. Shame at how Mikasa will react when I tell her I've been expelled. When I've had so many warnings. When all I did this time was protect my best friend from further hurt. I knew it would do no good to try and defend my actions though, the staff were all well aware of Pacinian's grueling, bullying nature. Didn't seem to do shit all about it though. So as soon as I spotted another bruise on Armin's delicate skin, I decided that enough was fucking enough. Once and for all. And now I'd be leaving him alone to deal with it. All by himself.

"Eren, you're unpredictable. You're volatile, moody, violent. Fiercely defensive and protective of what friends you have left. You can't keep your temper in check. You don't focus in your classes; your grades are slipping. In fact, they've already slipped. Fallen, in fact. Very low. They're awful. You clearly have an intelligent mind and you're a natural at wandwork. But you're unstable, and you've landed six people in the hospital wing and two more in St. Mungo's." Ackerman looked very much like he was enjoying himself, and I wanted to hit him. A sardonic smile was tugging at his lips, curling up to his grey eyes.

"Look, I get it. Just expel me already, will you? You don't have to keep on gloating." I burst, unable to hold it in anymore.

Professor Ackerman raised another eyebrow. His head tilted to the left, and his hands pressed against the sides of his desk so he leaned on his long arms.

"Did I say anything about expelling you?" he asks.

I stare at him. "No, but-"

"Perhaps I was misunderstanding your gloomy stature - do you want to be expelled?"

"No! I don't but-"

"-But nothing." He stood up. For such an intimidating and sharp person, Ackerman stood about an inch shorter than me. "The Headmaster has proposed one last attempt at managing your temper and complete lack of suitable social conduct for this school. Most likely out of sympathy for you; in your prolonged grieving state. If you fail this very last chance at finishing your education at Hogwarts, you will be expelled. Do I make myself clear?"

His words stung, but I hurriedly nodded my head.

Ackerman cocked an eyebrow.

"Yes sir." I say quickly, and he carries on.

"Professor Dumbledore has proposed," his voice sharpened icily, "I give you private lessons, that will give you a better handling on your emotions and most of all, your temper."

"What kind of lessons?" I ask, dumbfounded that Ackerman is going to be teaching me privately.

Professor Ackerman eyes me, his gaze flickering up and down before settling on an answer. "Training, of a kind. I shall explain more at our first meeting. I'll let you know when exactly it'll be, I haven't organised my schedule yet." His tone was suggesting it was nearing my time to leave, so I stood and grabbed my bag.

"And I suppose.." Ackerman lingered a finger to his mouth thoughtfully, "Two weeks detention. Even though I doubt it will do any good."

"What? Two weeks?"

Professor Ackerman grins at me. "I can't exactly let your actions today go unpunished. Now, trundle off before I make it three weeks."

I scowl like thunder, storm towards the door but gratitude and relief weigh heavily in my heart.

"Oh and Eren?"

I look back, biting my lip. Waiting for another scolding, ready to dash out the door.

"Clean yourself up, you look revolting."