Chapter Two
Headline

It wasn't even twenty-four hours. It wasn't even the next morning. The feast in the Great Hall to welcome in the students had ended a few hours ago and Professor Gunther Schultz, head of Gryffindor house, had been ready to call it a night.

However, the night had other plans as he was roused from sleep by the irate Potions Master.

"One count: out past curfew. One count: theft. Two counts: vandalism." Professor Shadis rattled off the offenses as he led Gunther to the Gryffindor common room. "Got the felons on lock down in the common room awaiting your decision."

Gunther massaged his temple, trying to recall exactly why he'd agreed to be head of house. It was for the love of teaching, he repeated. He cared about the students and he was a proud Gryffindor, why should he say no to being the head of house?

They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady that hid the entrance to Gryffindor's common room and she straightened in her chair. "I've kept the riffraff inside for you, dear. No one has come or gone on my watch." She stated proudly and, if Gunther was seeing properly, she quickly adjusted the low neckline of her bodice, situating her ample chest more prominently.

"Your help is appreciated, ma'am."

The Fat Lady giggled into her hand and Gunther felt his dinner turning in his stomach. "Can we just…get on with this? Please."

"Of course." Shadis squared his shoulders and spoke with his booming baritone so that Gunther couldn't help but crack a smile, "Flibbertigibbet."

The Fat Lady giggled again and swung open, to Gunther's relief, to admit them. Inside the air was warm and the fire still crackled confidently in its grate. The maroon and gold tapestries awakened nostalgia every time he set foot inside the common room. He'd fallen asleep at the table in the corner trying to study for an exam he couldn't even remember anymore. He'd celebrated quidditch victories and mourned losses. In the corner, where the light of the fire cast a shadow, his first kiss had been stolen by a charismatic red-head with freckles and a grin. The sconces were dimmed and the room was empty except for the two offenders.

Of course. It would be these two. Was his first thought, but upon realizing that they were hanging from the back of their shirts in mid-air his instincts kicked in.

"What are the hell are they doing up there?" Gunther moved quickly, lifting his wand and twirling his wrist so that they eased to the floor.

"These two are slippery. I couldn't leave them to their own devices and they were perfectly safe. Levitation spells never hurt anyone." Shadis replied with his arms crossed as the students slumped together on their knees, leaning into each other.

Braus and Springer. The infamous Gryffindor pranksters. Known for stealing food, hijacking equipment and littering the halls of the school with pranks and booby-traps. Aided and abetted by Peeves the Poltergeist, who flocked the troublemakers like a moth to a blaze. As much as it didn't excuse hanging students by their shirts, Shadis was right, leave them alone and they'd disappear. He'd written them up more than any other student in his house, including Jaeger.

Sasha Braus smiled innocently, though there were still incriminating crumbs on her face. Kitchens again. Though how she could possibly be hungry with a feast that literally supplied as much as you could eat…

"That was some cruel and unusual punishment." Connie Springer pointed toward Shadis. "Of minors. I don't know what kind of institution you're running here, but where I come from this is considered abuse. Don't think I won't lawyer up on this, my mom's an attorney so it's free." Connie cleared his throat and Gunther was having trouble following. Connie put his arm around Sasha, smirking like he had won. "I think, given circumstance, we should all look the other way and pretend this never happened."

"Nice try, Springer, but your half-assed negotiations won't save you." Shadis bent down, staring Springer in the eye as the boy fell back to sit on his heels. "And you know those muggle-laws don't apply at Hogwarts, son. You two are looking at expulsion for this one." Shadis was practically giddy, which was an odd emotion for the disciplined professor to wear. Even Gunther was creeped out.

"That's enough, Keith." Gunther sighed. It was too damn late for this. "No one said anything about expulsion—"

"You've got to be shit—"

"Will you please control your language in front of the students?" Gunther snapped. "And I need to know what happened so I can decide the proper punishment."

Shadis shared a glare with Connie. The boy had a spine on him, Gunther admitted. Most students wouldn't be sporting such a cheeky grin when faced with a professor like Shadis out to see him expelled. Sasha was subtly sneaking bites from the food stashed in her robes. Gunther shook his head. The audacity of children would never stop surprising him. He ignored it for the sake of peace while Shadis explained.

"These two were raiding the kitchens. Again. Not even hours after stuffing their faces at dinner."

"Yes, what they ate for dinner isn't part of my jurisdiction. You mentioned vandalism? Can we skip to that part?" Gunther wasn't overly concerned with their sneaking food. Any student who was smart enough to befriend the house elves and find the kitchens deserved a little extra snack for their effort. He certainly had, back in the day. Being out of bed after curfew would earn them detentions, but it was hardly worthy of expulsion.

"Saw them myself. Blew the glass right out of a second floor window. That was after I noticed the tidal wave amassing in the girl's lavatory."

"That part was an accident." Sasha said and crumbs fell into her lap.

"Your last accident." Shadis looked to Gunther, clearly he expected the decision to rule in his favor. His hands were behind his back, posture ridged. From what Gunther knew about him, he'd grown up in a muggle home. A 'military brat,' is how he put it. He had been a seventh year when Gunther was in first, and though he had fully embraced magical life, he hadn't quite left his muggle one behind.

"Is that the end of your report?" Gunther asked.

Shadis blinked, sensing where this line of questioning was headed. "Yes, that's all I can report. But you—"

"Thank you that will be all. I can handle it from here." Gunther met his eyes evenly. He didn't want to disrespect the older wizard, but he was the head of house.

Shadis opened his mouth to protest, but instead clamped it shut. "I'll trust you to make an informed decision. One that takes past offenses into account."

"New year, new start." Gunther replied. He smiled faintly, "get some sleep, Keith. You can give them hell in Potions tomorrow."

"Jokes on you, I only got an Acceptable on my O.W.L.S." Connie said triumphantly. Shadis only accepted Outstanding and Exceeds Expectations in his N.E.W.T. level class and his look was so scathing Gunther thought he might reconsider on the spot, just to see Springer squirm. Gunther wished the boy would keep his mouth shut.

The vein in Shadis's forehead was pulsing as he spun on his heel and disappeared out the portrait hole. Gunther took a breath as the weight of tension was lifted from the room. He had asked Shadis to leave because he didn't want to appear to argue with a fellow Gryffindor teacher, not in front of the students. As professors, they had to stick together, but Gunther had never held such a strict approach to education. At least, he didn't feel it necessary to deal out expulsion for every offense. Besides, he wasn't nearly as frustrating as Ravenclaw's head of house. Professor Zoe left decisions up to no one and each ruling was made using a complex, seemingly arbitrary, system that no other professor could follow. Students both loved and feared Professor Zoe.

"Let's start with points, I'm taking 50 for each of you." Gunther held up his hand when the protests started. The wailing cries of 'no professor' or 'not fair.' "Save it. You two have lost more points for this house than any other student I've known. That's not a compliment."

Sasha and Connie stifled their grins.

"You want to start out another year seeing how much mischief you can get into, that's on you. I'm not expelling you, but you're both going to be writing lines—"

"No!" They said together. The crawled forward on their knees, hands clasped as if in prayer. "Anything but lines. Please. We'll scrub toilets—"

"Exactly." Gunther raised his voice, speaking more sternly. "Punishments are supposed suck. You'll be in detention for the next week, including Saturday and Sunday, writing lines for me. That's not up for argument. I want both of you in my office after dinner." He cringed, this punishment sucked for everyone involved, but he had a responsibility to see it through.

"Yes, sir." They mumbled together.

Gunther sent them to their rooms, confiscating the rest of the food from their pockets. He took the pile of snacks and headed back to his room. He always spent the first week, the week before and after holiday break, and then exams living inside Hogwarts. It was the only part of the job he hated. It necessary for his position, the head of house needed to be on site more often than the other staff. Then occasions like this arose and he knew he'd be spending all his free time for the next week holed up in his office. He'd have to send an owl to Meera in the morning.

The walk to his room shouldn't have been eventful, but a suddenly opened door drew his attention. Gunther looked up just as Professor Levi Ackerman drew it closed behind himself.

"Levi?"

The Defense Professor's hand didn't leave the handle as he stared directly into Gunther's eyes. Gunther had gone through school with Levi. Different houses, but they had been on friendly terms when not competing as opposing seekers in quidditch matches. The room, however, Gunther knew did not belong to Levi.

"Is there a problem?" Levi asked quietly, Gunther sensed some hidden agenda in the question and his eyes continued to waver between Levi and the door that he was 90% sure belonged to Professor Ral.

"No, just some in-house management. Students out after hours." Gunther supplied.

Levi narrowed his eyes. "Is Gryffindor already losing points?"

Gunther sighed, hands on his hips and, despite the circumstances, was happy for the chance to vent a little. "Seems that way. It's Braus and Springer. Sixth years. They've been a handful since first."

"I recall." Levi slipped a step away from the door, still staring Gunther down.

"Look," Gunther started, drained of his strength, "I'm not going to say anything—"

"About what?" Levi spoke quickly, his voice low in his throat. Like a hiss. Gunther had heard of Slytherin's disposition for parselmouths, and it was the first time he'd ever considered its validity. Levi looked ready to strike.

"Nothing." Gunther said quickly. "Nothing. I saw nothing."

Levi nodded and proceeded down the hallway in the opposite direction. Gunther let out a breath. Merlin, how he wished he could go home instead of spending the next week in his cold, dank room. His office was bright and well maintained, but the quarters set aside for him he deliberately kept sparse. He didn't like to think that he lived there.

He opened the door to his room, pushing his shoulder into it when it stuck, and his heart sank at the sight of an empty single bed. There was only the bed, a desk, and a single trunk for his clothes. He started to change, hanging his robes from the hook by the door and stowing his wand on the bedside table near the only framed picture in the room. A woman dressed in a salwar kameez* of deep purple with a narrow face framed by thick black hair gathered into a loose pony tail over her shoulder and a dimpled smile revealing white teeth, was hugging a pair of twin dark haired girls, swinging them around so their eyes closed in mirth and giggles.

Just one more week.

-~0~-

Mikasa followed Eren into the Great Hall. He was still groggy, drifting with his arms hanging in front of him and bumping into things. She guided him firmly to a seat and then sat next to him. Most of the students were already eating, though the Hall was dotted with close knit clumps of students amidst empty sections. The mornings were always more clicky than any other meal. Armin caught her eye from Ravenclaw's table, waving a good-morning with a spoonful of oatmeal half raised to his lips.

She began to fill her own plate with the fresh cut fruit slices: oranges, bananas, and strawberries with a few dots of blueberry. She added a spoonful of vanilla yogurt and stirred. Eren had a hearty plate of eggs, bacon, sausages, hash browns, some sliced cheeses and a pile of buttered toast stacked so that the tower leaned to one side. No one was paying them any attention, just another teenager shoveling food into his face, but Mikasa was still wary of anyone showing too much interest. He was too careless to worry after himself, which annoyed her considering what was at stake. After six years, they had their routine down to a science, but that didn't mean that it was full proof. Any slip up could be catastrophic and she felt her nerves tighten her fingers over her spoon so that it shook.

"Eren Jaeger."

Mikasa's spine straightened, a chill sweeping down it. She knew that voice, the squeaky high-pitch and irritating drawl.

Eren looked up from his food, still chewing with smeared egg on his cheek. "Whaddya need, Hitch?"

The Slytherin girl leaned over the table, her back arching more than was necessary—or so Mikasa felt—as she grinned with that lopsided tilt to her lips that gave the impression she knew a secret you would have to earn. Mikasa and Eren had known her for most their lives. Her mother worked at St. Mungo's with Eren's father. The Dreyse family were a prominent name in the wizardly community, with a long history of powerful influence, and Hitch didn't like anyone to forget it.

"So rude. No 'how are you' or asking after my summer, even for an old friend?" She pouted her lip and Mikasa rolled her eyes.

Eren swallowed his food, then took a long pull of his juice, and wiped it all on the back of his hand. "Sure. How are you?"

Hitch's eye twitched, but she continued jovially. "We had the best time taking a small tour of the America's." She didn't ask about Eren's summer, which Mikasa wanted to call out, but she held her tongue. "Anyway, the reason I wanted to talk to you, which I'm sure you've already heard, is that Mylius and I are taking a break." Mikasa hadn't heard a thing about it and didn't care too.

"Oh. Yeah, I hadn't heard about that." Eren's eyes wandered to the Slytherin table were Mylius Zeramuski was trying to bend a solid metal fork in half with a single hand. Hitch turned Eren's attention back on her with a finger under his chin. "He doesn't seem to be taking it well."

"Yes, but it doesn't really concern me anymore how he feels." She said.

Mikasa glanced between them, at furious Mylius, and suddenly she knew exactly why Hitch was talking to Eren. She'd already held her tongue once, but a second time was pushing it. Mikasa looked over Eren's head so she could get Hitch's attention. "I think you should talk it out with him. He seems like he's more than interested in giving things another go." Mikasa met Hitch's slivery eyes directly. They shared a look of understanding, but with the undercurrent of challenge.

"That's not the point of 'taking a break.'" Hitch said before drawing her eyes back to Eren.

"Look, if you guys need to talk girl stuff then can you not do it with me sandwiched between you?" He raised his shoulders and leaned over his plate.

"But I—" Hitch tried to steer his attention back onto her, but the mail arrived and she swallowed her words down when the flutter of wings and chatter drowned her voice. Mikasa took her copy of the Daily Prophet and paid the owl so it could depart. She was about to set it aside to read later, so that she could continue with the conversation, but the headline caught her eye and her heart skipped painfully.

Death Eaters: Dramatic Movement or Violent Extremists?
Death Eater group gains momentum at a demonstration late last night held at the Ministry in response to a press conference by Minister of Magic Balto Wald. Minister Wald's plan to appoint Ilse Langnar, known muggle activist, as a member of his official cabinet was met, generally, with enthusiasm. Many saw the move as a tactical play to gain supporters among the growing muggle-born and half-blood populous, while some did question if the line between wizard and muggle was in fact becoming too blurred. Minister Wald reported that his sole purpose for hiring Langnar was a show of faith and good will. He hoped the appointment would 'soften relations' and 'increase morale.' Many have since suggested that it was a "desperate move by a spineless Minister." It was shortly after the official announcement that a small group of Death Eaters, identities unknown, managed to infiltrate security and send the crowd into a riot. The civilized press release quickly escalated into chaos and those that attempted to combat the radicals, whether it be Aurors or just members of the press trying to calm things down, were met with brutal force. Their normal methods of subdue and disarm were thwarted as defensive spells turned into offensive and then the incantations of Unforgivables rang out above the noise, shocking those that remained and igniting the incident into one of tragedy. Once the fighting settled 14 witches and wizards were rushed to St. Mungo's for immediate care and 2 are confirmed dead. Among them is Ilse Langnar, no doubt the target of the attack, who was killed before she could prove positive or negative for this escalating conflict…

Mikasa hadn't realized her hands were shaking so severely as she read. The Great Hall was silent, enough for her to hear that she was breathing heavily. She willed her heart to stop racing and she felt Eren press into her shoulder, as he read over her. Dramatic Movement? Did people really still think they were just a bunch of extremists with no power? It was like none of the atrocities they'd commited before were of any concern, except now they involved the minister. Now they were serious and now they were a threat. Death Eaters had been growing and expanding for years, decades. These people were monsters in closets and no one wanted to believe they were really in there once you turned the light on. Mikasa wanted to tear the paper in half. These reporters knew nothing of what was actually happening. How far this cause was beginning to reach. If anyone at the ministry had any sense they would put a stop to this before it turned into a war.

"Mikasa Ackerman."

Mikasa jumped, the paper crumpling under her hands.

Professor Ackerman held out a white sheet of paper, staring at her expectantly. Mikasa didn't understand until her mind caught up to her eyes and she took her class schedule from his hand. Their eyes held for a minute before he noticed the mangled paper in her fist, or maybe he already had and was just letting her know. There was a moment where she thought he understood. The same anger that she felt darkened his eyes, but it was gone so quickly she could have imagined it. She knew nothing about him other than he was her least favorite teacher—that included Professor Shadis—and that he used to be a member of Slytherin when he was in school. Without a word about it he left and continued to pass out schedules. What the hell had that been about? She wished she didn't care, but the circumstances had her thoughts spinning.

Mikasa's world returned to sharp clarity slowly. She'd been lost in her own mind for a minute and as her fear faded, the din of the great hall rose back to a dull roar in her ears. Eren was watching her carefully, his food forgotten and probably cold. Hitch caught her eye and then glanced away. She walked back to the Slytherin's table without another word.

"Give me that." Eren snatched the paper from her hand. He opened it and started reading the first article he saw silently before stopping after a minute. "What kind of reporting is this? An exclusive interview from Dion Waters and it's pushed to the third page? This is a travesty. Isn't it Mikasa?"

She opened her mouth, but settled for a nod.

Eren huffed. "Damn right it is. The nerve of these people." Mikasa watched him fold the cover backward and start to pull it separate from the bulk of the newspaper, covertly. It was cute that he thought she didn't notice. When the front page was completely free he crumpled it in his hand and stuffed it in his pocket while he returned the remaining pages of the Prophet to her. "I don't know why you read this thing. Connie could do a better job reporting this stuff."

Mikasa smiled, though her adoptive brother couldn't see it. He stood up and she saw him stop over someone's half-finished glass of pumpkin juice and toss the balled up article into it. He motioned for her to get moving, feigning agitation at her delay. "Let's go. We've got Transfiguration up first."

She got up, but left her paper on the table. She considered stopping her subscription to the Prophet completely. Yet she couldn't shake the idea that she might miss something important. Mikasa hesitated before leaving and she felt another shudder run through her. She swallowed the fear, the panic that threatened to destroy her, and ran to catch up with Eren.


A/N: For the purposes of this story, Death Eaters exist, but there is no Voldemort. I don't plan on that being a big part of this story, but it will add a touch of outside world drama to it. There are lots of backstory pieces I plan on getting to, like Mikasa's reaction to the article, Levi's reaction to the article, and other things. I want to make full use of SNK background characters, while trying to give them depth. I sort of have a lot of ideas and a lot of relationships and plot points I want to explore. Like I said, lots of drama to come.

*Please forgive me if I didn't use this right, I looked up traditional Indian dress and ultimately chose the Salwar Kameez. But I know only what limited wikipedia articles and a few internet searches could tell me.