Chapter 1: An Old Dawn

Lach did not open his eyes to world, not yet. He could hear footsteps quickly going around the room, every few moments moving something around. If it were urgent then Tom would have probably woken them up. A couple more minutes' kip would do his health some good. He pushed the rattles and clunks of someone moving about, to the side, focusing on the nothing that was what he saw.

'PETER!'

The bright light caught Lach off guard as his eyes opened at the wailing call of a disgruntled member of GRAP. He landed on the floor with a great thud, his head throbbing from both the impact and the wail still echoing in his mind. The morning air was warm, he wanted to take off his shirt for a spell, but he was all too aware that he was now rooming with two lasses.

Looking up, Adelheid was already dressed, going through some books. Gone was the elegant dress that he had come across her in during the initiation. Instead, she was dressed in the Beacon uniform. It was decent, Lach supposed, but it made him look like some butler. Adelheid didn't say a word to him. Her gaze narrowed on him until he pushed himself up, head still pulsating. The heiress's white hair glimmered in the rays on the morning sun.

'What was that?' he asked.

His response was a muffled garble of words from the bathroom. The door was open to reveal Tom humming a tune while vigorously brushing his teeth. He too was dressed, confirming the butler look of even the male clothing.

'He said it's team GRAP,' replied Adelheid, slamming her book shut and placing it on a pile she had stacked on the windowsill. The closed maroon blinds wafted.

"Sounds about right," thought Lach. It was a shame that Greta, he and Tom didn't end up on the same team but that was how the cards had been dealt (he wasn't sure what colour name you could make from that). He shrugged off the worry with the fact that they would still see each other every day.

With a groan, Adelheid hopped over her own bed and stood over Elizabeth who was still sound asleep. Her annoyance practically rumbled the room.

Tom swiftly came out of the bathroom, greeting Lach with a smile. 'Morning, bathroom's all yours.'

'Thanks lad.' Lach said, rubbing the sore spot on his head. The rest of the room was still coming into focus. It was up to par with what Beacon was known for. A Wall on the over side of the room housed a build in bookshelf, new and unscathed by time. At least it was yesterday. Not a bad room, he'd been in far worse, Lach just wished he had gotten to enjoy it longer. 'What are we doing today?'

'Well.' Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out a Scroll.

'Wake up!' Adelheid ordered her teammate.

'Have you tried water?' suggested Lach.

Tom immediately shook his head. 'I don't think that would be a good idea. We don't want to give her a bad start to the day.' His fingers danced on the surface of his Scroll, his eye narrowing his gaze in confusion. 'My Scroll isn't working, mind if I borrow yours?'

'Sure.' He rummaged through the bag of his belonging by his bed and found the device tucked under some spare shirts.

'Whatever we have,' Adelheid commented, 'you and Elizabeth need to get dressed, NOW!'

'Easy, lass.' Lach walked over to his sleeping teammate, passing the Scroll to Tom as he went. He leaned down and pinched her nose shut, causing her to wake up with a gasp and some harsh words. Lach looked to Adelheid, bowing as he beamed a smile before grabbing the only neat pile of clothes he had and strolled into the bathroom, locking the door.

It didn't take him long to get dressed. It wasn't that he had to take his time with most things; it was just that he liked to take his time. After the scrap in the forest the other day, he wanted a better look at how his teams fought. Lach had caught glimpses here and there but had been too preoccupied on the Grimm (to be expected). Tom had shown his strength though; the lad had proven a wise tactician. You couldn't win with just tactics though, just as you couldn't claim victory through the strength. How would Tom...

He figured the constant calls from the rest of his group meant they wanted him to get out. He pushed the door open just as he was doing up his collar. Immediately, Elizabeth shot past him and locked the door, booting him further out as it slammed.

'Any luck on classes, Tom?' he asked.

Tom now had all four Scrolls in front of him. Adelheid sat beside him, her narrow gaze fixed on him as his hands darted from one to another.

'All of them?'

'Yeah,' Tom replied. 'All of them are just frozen.

'Any idea why?'

Tom shook his head, avoiding Adelheid's gaze. With a thoughtful "hmmmm", he closed each one before handing them back to his team mates.

'Great,' said Adelheid snidely. 'What now? Knock door to door of each class?'

Tom said nothing.

Lach could see the lad's thoughts circling his mind. Tom bit his finger, getting up to pace around the room.

Come on Tom. You were made the Leader for a reason, show her.

Sounds of mutterings came from outside the room. Unfamiliar voices fading in and out as students passed by. Tom would stop whenever the voices came, mumbling to himself as they went.

Elizabeth opened the door, the grinding creak a whisper in the room. She looked about to speak until she saw Tom walking in a circle in the centre of the room.

When Tom saw all his teammates standing there ready, he sighed, dropping his arms to his side and walked out of the room.

'What did I miss?' asked Elizabeth

'Nothing. That's the problem,' replied Adelheid.

As suddenly as he left, Tom was back with a smile. 'Grimm studies first.' He handed Elizabeth back her Scroll.

'Oh.' Miss Schnee took a single book from her bed. 'Then let's not waste any more time.' With a huff she marched away.

'I knew you could do it.' Lach beamed at Tom.

'I just asked someone wandering past.'

He patted his leader on the back, continuing to smile warmly. 'The important thing is we know where we are going.'

Simple solution. Not sure it will look good if you keep doing that, lad.

'The important thing,' Elizabeth declared, 'is that we get breakfast before they run out of tarts.'

As she left, the two boys followed. 'You mean pop tarts?'

'DID I STUTTER?!'

0000

Elizabeth and Adelheid marched down the corridors side by side, both in an unspoken competition of speed. Pride vs Ego. Not that Lach could complain, a bit of team competition was good for them. Strengthened the crew's resolve (to quote his uncle).

Tom struggled to keep up. 'I'm surprised they don't just run.'

Lach chuckled. 'That would mean admitting it's a competition. It would tell the other "I do need to try to beat you." At least we'll work up an appetite.'

'True.'

Lach couldn't help but grin at the passersby. Their eyes would widen at their teammates attempt at proving who is stronger. Each time, they would mutter something to their friends.

Rows of Students rushed past them looking like they were going to war than develop their Hunter/Huntress skills. Lach supposed that was similar anyway, they were going to be always fighting either way. Still, would have been nice to have a bit more colour. He looked to his own garments, not too shabby and more stylised than other students did. Did they get different ones?

Lach shrugged it off as they entered the massive dining room. It was just as extravagant as when they were there before initiation, apart from the duller paint on the walls. That and the fewer machine sounds flowing from the kitchen. Tables still sat, row upon row of the long seats filling the dining room to the brim but they were different. It reminded Lach of a pamphlet for the school come to life.

It didn't take long for them to find a row of seating that GRAP could sit across from when they came, presumably with Peter suffering a few "home accidents" before he came. Impressive wooden ones that still maintained a "new" feel to them had replaced the stainless tables of the other day.

Lach sat down, grimly looking at the salmon, roast potatoes, and ham that made up his food. If he didn't know otherwise, he would have sworn an amateur made it. He was by no means a fussy eater, he just had trouble with the idea that he could make a better meal than what he had gotten. He dug in, finding it passable, when Tom and Elizabeth sat either side of him.

Tom had good portions of a variety of food. More than Lach thought a lad his size could eat. They were organised, some portions having a clear line to separate them from the others. Tom was quite content to tuck in with the table manners of a much wealthier student.

On the other side, you had Elizabeth and a plate of tarts. She seemed in higher spirits as she began her feast, pinkie out each time she bit into a strawberry tart.

Adelheid strode past, dropping a slice of jam on toast onto Elizabeth's plate.

'What are you doing?' asked Elizabeth.

'You can't survive on tarts alone you know,' Adelheid countered.

'My Pa gave me the same advice, though I don't think he meant food,' thought Lach, a chuckle coming out from it.

'I'm going to need plenty of energy for...whatever we have first.' Elizabeth looked towards Tom.

'Grimm studies,' Tom nodded. He was still fiddling with the Scroll in his hands, turning it around and

closing it as he tried to understand what was wrong with it.

Lach's gaze wandered about the canteen. A group on a separate table were giving team TEAL quizzical looks and muttering to each other. Nothing much Lach could do about that. He wasn't sure the reason since they were probably far from the strangest team in the school, no stranger than BAGE. Sure, he couldn't exactly see them but still. Lach didn't recognise any of the students around. He shook it off. It had been a busy few days.

Lach nudged Tom, who was a good halfway through his meal, when he saw Greta coming into the canteen.

0000

Team GRAP sat at the back of the lecture room. Greta scanned the board. Her hand hovered over her Scroll, ready to put important thoughts down for later. Greta's fingers danced on the screen, not leaving a single word off her Scroll's notes. It took her a moment to remember it didn't work.

The screen was still frozen. She glanced at the doorways in the room. No one was here yet. Team TEAL didn't know what was up with the Scrolls and Greta could practically hear the footsteps of their teacher echoing in her mind.

'Still no luck?' Peter peered over.

'I'll figure it out.' Hopefully

Rapture tapped Greta on the shoulder. With a soft smile and an open hand, she silently convinced Greta to hand the Scroll to her. For a moment, the crowded room shrank to only Rapture's scaled self and whomever she was talking with. Greta's teammate, spotlighted on the stage of Beacon Academy, spoke with the same confidence as if she was a team by herself.

'Do you know what's wrong with this?' she asked, tapping a broad, brown haired boy in front of her. The rest of his team were still chatting amongst themselves.

He flinched when a Scroll dangled in front of him. As he turned to look at Rapture, he groaned. It took a moment for the faunas boy's bear ears to relax with his body. He plucked the Scroll and examined it.

'Thanks,' said Rapture.

'Custom made?' he asked.

Rapture raised an eyebrow. 'No, standard Scroll.'

The boy huffed. 'In that case, "Standard" has changed in the last five minutes.' The Scroll let out a jolly short tune. 'Seems to be working now. It was probably just a small glitch.' He held the Scroll up towards Rapture and Greta. 'Glad I could help.'

Greta took the Scroll and touched the screen. It brought up a clear page for notes. For good measure, Greta switched between several apps. The home screen's layout had changed; perhaps an update was the problem.

'The date is wrong but it works,' Greta mused.

'What's it say?' the boy asked.

Rapture looked and answered for Greta. 'Wednesday, the 7th of September...' She chortled. '1432'

'Feels like a Monday but that's right.' The boy head slumped into his arms.

'Pardon?' Greta began. Her words lost their way when man walked to the centre of the room from the side.

His voice boomed around the lecture theatre (even if his moustache hid his mouth behind a forest). The man looked at the students. Any conversation that was going on fell into silence.

'Greetings,' he started. 'My name is Professor Peter Port. I will be your Grimm Studies teacher. You are in noble hands, I can assure you.'

'What?' came a whisper.

Greta turned to see Peter fixing Port with a narrow gaze.

Her chuckle was shaky. 'Two Peters. At least we won't get you two mixed up.'

Port coughed. 'Monsters. Deeeeemons. Prowlers of the night. Yes, the creatures of Grimm have many names. But I merely refer to them as prey.'

A silence swept the room.

'And you shall too…'

Greta shrugged. 'You have to give him some credit,' she whispered, 'he is theatrical.'

'Professor Peter Port,' her partner muttered.

'I think we'll stick with "Port",' commented Aurora. Her head was resting on her hand, drumming on her cheek. She puffed a lock of hair from her face.

'It can't be him.' Peter scanned the room.

Greta followed his gaze, trying to guess what he was looking for. He was lingering on the students' reactions for the most part. From the grumbling faunas in front of GRAP to a ginger haired boy leaning so far forward that he might have jumped to hug Port.

'Professor Port certainly has an effect on students,' Greta joked (well, tried).

When the boy stood and cheered, other students remained silent before he sank back down.

Peter muttered under his breath, every word tightening his expression.

'Are you okay?'

He turned quickly to his team mate, as if she had just declared herself a secret Grimm worshipper. Peter gestured to the still boasting Port. Greta heard something about a cabbage couldn't escape Peter's demanding eyes.

'You don't know who Professor Port is, do you?

Greta shrugged, her cheeks tinted red. 'Sorry, was he in the war?'

Peter nodded. His body shook with frustrated tremors. 'He was a great fighter, even lost a leg in combat.'

'Wow. He's earned the right to be over the top I guess...' Her words petered out as she examined their new teacher's legs. 'He has a very lifelike prosthetic.'

'He doesn't have one. Doesn't need one since he's retired now.'

Greta glanced over to team TEAL. Tom and Adelheid were also gesturing towards the bombastic Professor.

'He's younger than in his photos,' Peter added.

'Oh?'

'He's one of the men who taught Ruby Rose and Headmaster Arc.

Greta could see herself sat next to the warrior, her Scroll taking down every word that Port said. The Professor probably had so many stories about teaching the greatest heroes of the Witch War. No doubt, it was one of his proudest achievements. Greta shook herself from her mindset. The here and now needed priority. If her teammate was right, that couldn't have been Port. She could at least take a little comfort in knowing that Ruby Rose was not next to her. Peter Hamlin was. Her stone faced teammate was also glaring down at a few students in one of the front rows.

She nudged him with her elbow, mouthing, "What's up?"

Peter leaned back and took a deep breath. He combed his fingers through his hair, eyes darting back and forth to the row of girls.

A girl with long white hair, adorned in a ponytail, was scowling at her smiling teammate. She was doodling something on a piece of paper. Her black hair cuddled her head. When she turned, Greta caught a glimpse of a pair of wide silver eyes.

'Peter?' Greta nudged her teammate.

'Yep.'

'Does she have-?'

'Silver eyes? Yep. With that hair, she probably gets a lot of Ruby Comments.' He sighed.

Rapture tapped both of them on the shoulder before pointing to Greta's Scroll. 'Anyone found the reason behind this yet?''

The three GRAP members looked down at the Scroll again. "1432" was still in the corner of the screen.

Aurora leaned forward, a vulture over other Scrolls. 'I doubt everyone's can be wrong?'

Sure enough, the faunas team in front of GRAP has the same date in their Scrolls. The devices themselves were duller, their home screens lacking in features.

Port's voice caught the team's attention once more.

'Who among you believes yourself to be the embodiment of these traits?' He paused.

A white haired girl's hand shot up into the hair. Greta could feel the rush of wind from where she sat.

'Two eager volunteers.'

Greta raised an eyebrow. The wind was closer than she thought.

Peter stood tall, as straight, and bold, as one of the statues from the war.

Port twisted his moustache. 'What is your name, young man?'

'Hamlin. Peter Hamlin.'

The professor pondered for a moment. Neither student said a word. Port turned to the girl. 'You may come up after Mr Hamlin, Miss Schnee.' He looked back to Peter. 'Do you want to grab anything?'

Peter shook his head before marching down the steps.

'Fully prepared, I see. Good. Thinking like that got me through plenty of scrapes when I was your age. Why, I managed to take on several of the Grimm you are about to fight while I had a hand tied behind my back.'

Professor Port's story continued as he walked to a nearby closet and pulled out a rumbling cage. His story must have been at least entertaining to himself since he chuckled several times before Greta could make out what he was saying again.

'It was weeks until old Connors could fool me again, though the man did sparkle quite well. Works at a train station last I checked.'

The cage stopped with a thud, a layer of dust surrounding it for a moment. Port held his axed rifle to the lock. When the Professor was quiet, the colour drained from the room. Peter Hamlin reached inside his uniform and pulled out a curved knife.

'Are you ready, Mr Hamlin? It is time we test your make up as a Hunter.' Port's voice drew everyone closer.

Peter nodded, readying one hand to open his Academy jacket. He took up a stance and waited.

In one quick motion, Port cut off the lock. Four glowing eyes grunted before a pair of dirty grey tusks adorned with crimson markings, stepped out of the cage. The Boarbatusk checked around, locking eyes on Peter. It charged at him. The Grimm's tusks dug into the ground when it found that its target was missing, a flash of light taking Peter away. Mr Hamlin appeared to the side with the air crackling around him. His dagger flew from his grip, slicing the Grimm's cheek. The Boarbatusk snarled before launching itself at Peter who was gone again in flash.

Greta could hear the students muttering about her partner's semblance. She had to admit, seeing him fight with it in the Academy's uniform was akin to an assassin doing their work while at an office. Underneath the whispers about "the new boy" and growls from the Grimm, Greta heard an orchestra's sorrowful tones as Peter fought. Its sweet voice enraptured her mind with every strike. The fight had given the perfect opportunity for her to see Peter's style in a more structured environment. Next, she had to figure out how to fight alongside it.

Peter threw several stakes at the Grimm, embedding them in a row behind it. He created a fence that the rest of the class had to look past. The Boarbatusk stomped on the floor, huffing and puffing before charging at Peter who wore a grin while stood in front of the whiteboard. The Grimm found itself gnashing it teeth against brick before a jovial whistle beckoned it to turn around. Now stood in front of his own wall of stakes, Peter challenged the Grimm to come at him. The Boarbatusk attempted to ram into Peter but saw another flash before a stack plunged through its bottom jaw. It struggled to free itself until Peter's dagger pierced the centre of its skull.

Professor Port walked forward, clapping slowly. 'Quite astonishing, Mr Hamlin.'

Peter nodded. 'Thank you, sir.' He began to pick up his stakes.

Port turned to the class. 'That, students, will be a tough act to follow in my next seminar.' He gestured to the white haired girl from earlier. 'Miss Schnee will start us off and then we should have time for a second. You'll have time to ready yourselves. For now though, class dismissed.'

Greta beamed as her partner made his way back to the team. His expression on the other hand was cold. Peter clenched his fists as his gaze fixated on a girl in class. This one's red hair flowed behind her, the armoured band around her head perfectly in place while she got up with her own team mates.

As Peter approached, Greta stood. 'Are you okay?'

Hamlin looked to GRAP and TEAL. 'Don't move yet.' His words were tired but passed throughout both teams with ease.

Greta followed Peter's line of sight once more to the girl with the crimson hair. Her chiselled face sparked a dozen memories in Greta's mind, a dozen pages with her face inked onto them. Greta's mind wanted to run from its body as the words under those pictures grew larger and larger in her thoughts. The closer the girl and her friends got to Greta, the wider the GRAP leader's eyes became. Walking past Greta was someone everyone knew about. A woman responsible for more nightmares than some of the oldest Grimm. Pyrrha Nikos smiled awkwardly at the lingering stares she received from Greta and her friends.