Draconic Funhouse: The Wizard of Oz is Wise, More News at Eleven (ch. 6)

This chapter, unlike the others, is in past tense like Mandate. I think the experiment has run its course, and I just don't feel like present tense is for me to be honest. The next two or three chapters will still be in it, but from then on they'll all be in past tense, though I may play around with doing something else besides 1st Person for MC and 3rd Person for the rest. We'll see.

Just like with Mandate, this fic is now up to four chapters advanced.

As usual, hope you enjoy the chapter.

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Touchdown.

The impact crater sent shockwaves rippling outward, scattering debris like confetti and shrouding the landscape in a thick cloud of dust. With a final, deafening roar, my massive draconic form began to shrink, bones snapping and limbs reforming, shifting and molding in reverse as I returned to my preferred, more manageable dragonborn shape.

Cinder and Emerald dismounted with practiced ease just before my transformation completed, landing gracefully on the newly pulverized earth. I grinned, enjoying the feel of solid ground beneath my feet once more.

Before me, its image slowly emerging from the dissipating dust, stood Beacon Academy.

"Hello," a familiar voice called out.

And there, standing before the shattered remnants of what had once been a pristine courtyard, were two figures.

Ozpin, his silver hair glinting in the afternoon sun, the ever-present mug clutched firmly in his hand.

And Glynda Goodwitch, her riding crop humming with restrained energy, her expression a carefully constructed mask of barely contained exasperation.

"Dumbass reincarnator says what?"

Glynda's eyebrow shot up so high it threatened to disappear into her hairline. Ozpin, on the other hand, blinked once, slowly, his expression unchanging.

"What?" Glynda demanded, her voice tight with barely suppressed irritation.

"No, not you. I'm talking to the old dude next to you." I gestured dismissively towards Ozpin, then turned back to Glynda. "Seriously, man, how did you fumble a baddie like Salem? All you had to do was keep her pregnant and too busy with the football team she was raising to worry about world domination!"

I heard Cinder choke behind me, but ignored it. Some things just needed to be said.

To his credit, the old reincarnator didn't so much as flinch. That was the face of a man who could easily sweep a poker table.

“I wasn’t aware you dabbled in marriage counseling, Mister…?” Ozpin asked, his voice mild, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I'm a man—ahem—dragon of multiple talents," I declared, striking a heroic pose and brushing imaginary dust from my shoulder. "You may call me Auburn. Anyway…" I paused, taking in the scene before me, fully appreciating it for the first time.

Beacon Academy. The iconic setting of the first (and arguably best) three volumes of the show. I’d be lying if I said I didn't feel a thrill looking at it now, standing on its grounds. Looking at the two figures who lorded over it, who until now had been nothing more than characters I somewhat liked on a screen.

With a flourish, I allowed my dragonborn form to dissolve completely, returning to my human shape. I beamed at Ozpin, extending a hand in what I hoped was a friendly gesture. "So… how about a tour?"

The man was truly unflappable. No matter what I did, he kept his demeanor calm and collected.

"Why, of course," Ozpin replied, a faint smile playing on his lips. "If you would follow me, Mr. Auburn… the entrance is just below you, though admittedly somewhat… compromised by your arrival. But I'm sure Glynda can rectify that, can't you, Glynda?"

The vice-headmistress shot me a look that could curdle milk at fifty paces.

"Of… course… Headmaster," she said, her lips twitching in thinly veiled annoyance. "It will be… my pleasure."

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He was, at his core, a child. Centuries of dealing with them had given Ozpin a certain level of expertise, though never quite as much as he would have liked. Every lifetime brought its own unique challenges, its own set of triumphs and failures.

Every child is different, went the old adage. While the sentiment was debatable, it was close enough to the truth to keep his job from ever becoming truly easy. No matter how many years he toiled, there was always something new to learn.

The black-haired one was nowhere to be seen, but he wasn't overly concerned. She would be in for a nasty surprise if she attempted to access the secret levels beneath Beacon. The green-haired one, on the other hand, followed the boy with the unwavering devotion of… well, a kid. A sad state of affairs, to be sure, when a kid had no other to turn to except a child.

"This is the classroom used for first-year students," Ozpin said, his mouth moving on autopilot while his mind grappled with more pressing matters. The boy was not insane. That much was clear. But he was unstable. Dangerously so.

Unstable and terrifyingly powerful. A most troubling combination.

Ozpin trailed off as Auburn stopped walking, his attention fixated on something inside the room. For a moment, Ozpin feared that some overzealous student had ignored his orders and left the dormitories. But then he realized the boy wasn’t focused on any particular student, but on the chairs themselves. The rows of empty seats, waiting to be filled.

Ozpin smiled, a genuine expression of amusement. He gestured for Auburn to enter, carefully observing as the boy attempted to feign disinterest, as if he were only following instructions and had no desire to see the classroom.

With a deliberate nonchalance that was almost comical, Auburn sauntered into the room and sat down. Third row from the front, closer to the window than the aisle.

Ever so slowly, the puzzle that was Auburn the Dragon was beginning to take shape.

Ozpin moved towards the teacher's desk, his movements casual. "Is there any particular subject that holds your interest, Mr. Auburn?" He ignored the green haired minion, she would not be a factor in this game.

"…Why are you doing all of this?" Auburn asked, his gaze fixed on the empty desks.

Ozpin smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Right then, Risk Assessment and Mitigation it is."

The boy raised a questioning eyebrow, his golden eyes narrowing slightly, but Ozpin pressed on regardless. "Tell me, Mr. Auburn. From the world's perspective, what do you believe yourself to be?"

The dragon-child leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on Ozpin’s face as if he could decipher his intentions by sheer force of will.

"Strong," Auburn said finally, the word delivered with a shrug.

Ozpin nodded, his expression thoughtful. He moved towards the chalkboard, picking up a discarded piece of white chalk. With a series of quick, precise strokes, he wrote the word "STRONG" in large, bold letters.

"Anything else?" he prompted, turning back to face the boy.

Auburn seemed to ponder the question, his brow furrowed in concentration. After a moment, he shrugged again, his expression conveying a distinct lack of inspiration.

"…Dangerous."

Ozpin added the word "DANGEROUS" to the chalkboard, placing it neatly beneath "STRONG."

"Nothing else?" he pressed, his gaze unwavering.

The boy appeared to attempt further introspection, but after a few seconds, he gave up with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Ozpin chuckled softly. He added a third word to the board, writing it in even larger letters than the first two:

HOPE.

Auburn snorted, the sound laced with amusement.

"Do you find that amusing, Mr. Auburn?" Ozpin asked, his voice mild.

"Very much so, I'm afraid," the boy replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Ozpin moved towards the front of the desk, leaning back against it with a casual air. “Are you here to wipe us out, Mr. Auburn?"

Auburn frowned, his amusement vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

"I assume not," Ozpin continued, his tone conversational. "Otherwise, the fact that you’re permitting yourself to engage in all this back-and-forth would be rather counterintuitive, after all." He chuckled, taking a sip of his hot chocolate, which was now lukewarm. "May you?"

"What?" Auburn asked, his confusion evident.

"Well, you’re a dragon, are you not? I'm asking if you’re capable of heating this beverage."

Contrary to Ozpin’s expectations, Auburn didn’t appear offended, miffed, or even annoyed by his presumptuousness. Rather, he seemed… embarrassed?

"Fire isn't really my Element—although…" He narrowed his eyes, as if concentrating, then snapped his fingers.

A small flame materialized beneath Ozpin’s mug. He was pleasantly surprised to find that he didn't need to expend any of his Aura to prevent his hand from being burned. The beverage, however, was heating up nicely.

Auburn snapped his fingers again, presumably intending to extinguish the flame. To Ozpin’s amusement, nothing happened. The fire stubbornly persisted, flickering merrily beneath the mug. Auburn snapped his fingers again and again, his frustration growing with each failed attempt. Only after several seconds did the flame finally begin to sputter and fade, disappearing entirely with a final wisp of smoke.

Ozpin took a sip of his mug, now pleasantly warm, and asked, his voice carefully neutral, "What is your Element then, if I may ask?" He was far too experienced to believe that Auburn was merely stating a lack of expertise. The word had been carefully chosen, laden with meaning.

"Fun."

Ozpin took another sip of his mug—

And burst out laughing.

"Tell me then," Ozpin asked, his amusement fading, replaced by a quiet curiosity. "Were you the one to choose it?"

"Yes," Auburn confirmed, his gaze steady.

"Why?"

Auburn hesitated for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "…Fighting against Salem made me realize how devoid of it my life had been until then."

"Did it now…" Ozpin trailed off, a faraway look entering his eyes. He seemed to be gazing not at the room before him, but at some distant memory, some long-forgotten event.

The headmaster closed his eyes. For the first time since Auburn had met him, he felt the full weight of Ozpin's age. The weariness of centuries settled upon him, transforming him from a genial professor into a being of immense, almost unbearable gravity. He was no longer simply an old man in a young body, but a soul stretched thin across millennia, burdened by countless lifetimes of responsibility. A hundred decades, two hundred, perhaps even more; perhaps not even Ozpin himself was sure of the specifics after all this time.

Ozpin opened his eyes, his gaze now focused and intense. "Mr. Auburn, you're not here for the Relic, are you?"

"No," Auburn said, shaking his head. "I've no interest in it."

"What are you here for then?" Ozpin asked, his voice low.

Auburn told him, and Ozpin listened, his head tilted slightly to one side. He interjected with insightful questions, nodded thoughtfully at key points, tsked with disapproval at others, and occasionally offered a gentle suggestion. And at the end of it—he smiled.

Ozpin steepled his fingers beneath his chin, his eyes twinkling. "I think I can help you with that then."

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"Damn, girl, what is this made of?" Yang felt a grin stretch across her face, mirroring the one on the face of her upperclassman. The fabric in question was draped across her lap, a shimmering, midnight-blue material that felt impossibly soft beneath her fingertips. "Feels amazing."

It wasn't hard to find girls interested in fashion. Less difficult than many believed to find girls interested in combat, especially when you were studying at Signal Academy.

But finding girls who appreciated both? That was a bit trickier.

"It's dust-weave imported directly from Atlas," the girl replied, her voice a low purr. "It can take at least one or two shots from a high-caliber sniper rifle. My partner's father works over there, something military, and they cover the shipping costs and such." Coco Adel, as Yang had learned her name was, draped an arm casually around Yang's shoulders, pulling her close to whisper the answer as if it were some forbidden secret.

For some reason, that gesture sent a strange, unfamiliar flutter through Yang's stomach. A feeling she’d been told, repeatedly, she caused in others, yet had never truly experienced herself. Her mind, usually a whirlwind of quick comebacks and outrageous puns, drew a complete blank. Her heart was beating faster than it had during her last brawl, and she couldn’t seem to stop smiling.

Coco smirked knowingly at her reddening complexion, and joined their foreheads together under the guise of checking her temperature. Yang could only thank the Brothers that Ruby wasn't paying attention, too busy arguing with that white-haired princess over something or other to witness her older sister’s mortifying display.

Such was her flustered state that she almost felt grateful when the reason they had all been herded into the auditorium strolled casually onto the stage, side-by-side with Headmaster Ozpin.

Her father had once told her that Ozpin possessed a way with words that bordered on magic. He’d always had this knowing smirk whenever he said it, as if he were privy to some private joke. Yang had always dismissed it as just another quirk of her beloved, yet often exasperating, father.

But watching the dragon-man step aside, ceding the stage to Ozpin, a seed of doubt began to take root. As Ozpin tapped the microphone twice, his silver hair catching the light, and delivered a small, self-deprecating joke that immediately eased the tension in the room, Yang couldn't help but wonder if her old man hadn't been onto something after all.

Well, either that or the dragon-man was some secret weapon raised underground by the Kingdoms to combat the Grimm, or an alien that had made contact years ago and was finally been given permission to cut loose. The theories were wild and varied.

"Tell me," Ozpin began, his voice calm and reassuring, "I assume you're all familiar with the term 'Battle Royale'?"

Beside her, Yang felt Coco Adel's grin widen to almost comical proportions. "Gods, I fucking love Ozzy."