Harry Potter often bemoaned the catastrophes, crises, and absolute cataclysms that he somehow always found himself at the center of. Whether it was Voldemort and his army storming Hogwarts or him accidentally stumbling while exploring the pipes that the basilisk used to navigate the castle and falling through a false one-way ceiling into the Gryffindor girls showers, all his friends and even Dumbledore agreed that trouble seemed to have a particular affinity if not outright affection for Harry.

Naturally, today was no different.

"Where am I?" Harry muttered to himself as he observed his surroundings. He was in a forest, a canopy of dark green leaves and branches overhead. He could see cliffs off in the distance. None of which he recognized.

His eyebrows furrowed in thought as he recalled what happened the previous night. He had been partying, celebrating the one-month anniversary of Voldemort's death, and after consuming quite a lot of butterbeer and Firewhiskey, he had Disapparated back into his luxurious hotel room, applied his customary protective enchantments on himself, and promptly passed out.

He woke up standing upright in this forest with no clue as to how he had gotten here. All his protective enchantments were still intact and functioning correctly. If someone had done this to him, then he would've been woken up by his enchantments activating. They didn't, however, which meant this was done by someone who knew what enchantments he used and how to neutralize them. A bit unsettling. He couldn't sense anyone around him though; it appeared he was entirely alone.

Where was he? Was this a prank?

Harry shrugged before dismissing his enchantments and spinning in place to Disapparate back to his hotel room where he desperately needed a shower -

Nothing happened. Harry just spun around in place foolishly. The Disapparation had failed.

A heavy frown formed on his face at that. An anti-Disapparation ward around him? No, he didn't sense anything. Just to be sure, he Apparated three feet to the left, confirming that his Disapparation wasn't being negated by a ward. An anti-Disapparition ward around his hotel room? Possibly.

He tried to Disapparate to the Leaky Cauldron, then Hogsmeade, then the Burrow, and then finally to muggle London in sheer desperation.

It all failed.

"What the hell?" This made no sense. Why couldn't he Disapparate to any of those places? Were they out of range? No. Even if they were, the Disapparition would've still occurred; Harry would've just reappeared at the same spot again.

So what was the problem?

He was brought out of his musings by the rustling of the bushes around him. He turned his head curiously.

A creature came into view. It wasn't anything Harry recognized. It vaguely resembled a wolf. Very vaguely. Bone-white spikes protruding from its joints contrasted with its dark black fur, and red streaks ran down its bony faceplate. Its eyes glowed reddish orange as it leered at Harry.

Before Harry could say anything, twelve more of the same creatures entered the area, completely surrounding him. They slowly stalked forward, their muscles bulging as low growls escaped their throats. He didn't recognize the species, but he was willing to bet that they were magical in nature.

Harry suppressed a frown. "Hello there," he greeted civilly. "Please, leave peacefully, and you will be allowed to live another day." He kept his tone calm and soothing, as if he was talking to a wounded animal. Most people would find it foolish to treat a strange unknown creature this way, but Harry had learned long ago to not judge something by its appearance. Sure, they may look like they walked out of a child's nightmare, but who knew? Perhaps, despite their scary looks, they may be sentient and peaceful creatures.

The creature in front of him growled ferociously before leaping at him, its sharp claws glinting in the sunlight. Perhaps not. Harry reacted instantly, having expected the attack. In one fluid motion, he pulled his wand out and gave a small flick, banishing the creature back.

The other creatures attacked as well, letting out harsh growls as they leaped forward. Harry merely sighed heavily before he brought his wand above his head and swung it down in a graceful arc. A massive wall of wind circling around Harry expanded outward, blowing all the creatures back. Some crashed into trees, others collided with the ground. While it must've been painful, it wasn't fatal, and some of the creatures were already getting up.

Harry, for his part, didn't move to cast any more spells. He simply stood there as he watched the creatures recover, his stance relaxed and unconcerned. "Please, surrender and you'll be allowed to live."

They ignored him.

The creatures began attacking once more, albeit slightly more warily this time. They hesitantly moved forward, and when they saw Harry didn't react, they pounced, their muscles rippling with power as they dashed forward.

Harry sighed before waving his wand once more. "Impetus tempestatis," he muttered.

Another wall of wind blasted outward, more intense and powerful than the last. It slammed into the beasts, cutting through flesh like a warm knife through butter. Trees cracked and splintered under the force. Within seconds, all the beasts lay on the ground, their corpses slowly beginning to dissipate, giving off a black smoke. Oddly enough, their insides were a vivid, uniform red with no visible bones or organs.

Throughout it all, Harry just stood in the small space that had been cleared out around him, observing the destruction calmly.

Harry didn't open with the more destructive spell because he wanted to give the beasts a chance to run away, just in case they truly were sentient and thought he was attacking them because he invaded their territory or something. It appeared they were mindless though.

As such, he felt no remorse or guilt killing these beasts. To him, they were the equivalent of Acromantulas, and Harry always enjoyed the senseless massacre of the gigantic man-eating spiders. Mostly because they were gigantic man-eating spiders.

He had repeatedly tried to convince Dumbledore to allow him to unleash his flames onto the Acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest, but Dumbledore always refused, saying something about how the spiders were Hagrid's friends.

Privately, Harry just thought that Dumbledore let the Acromantulas live because Hagrid would collect the Acromantula silk and give it to Dumbledore, who would then sell it at premium prices.

At any rate, what were those creatures? Definitely magical, seeing as how their bodies were dissolving into black smoke. He didn't recognize them, though. They were probably the results of experimental breeding. Banned experimental breeding.

As he pondered on this new development, he realized that even more creatures had surrounded him. And not just the wolf-like creatures; this time, they seemed to have brought bear equivalents of varying sizes. Not only that, there was a snake. A colossal black-and-white two-headed snake that towered above him. He heard the sound of rushing wind high above him and looked up. A gigantic bird-like creature with black feathers was circling overhead like a vulture over a dead carcass.

He didn't have the patience to deal with this right now. Unfortunately, it appeared the creatures had other ideas, since they charged forward all at once.

His wand spun in his hand as he prepared to face down the creatures once more.

|{Ω}|

"Interesting," Ozpin murmured as he watched the holographic screen, absently taking a sip of hot chocolate from his coffee mug.

"Incredible," Glynda Goodwitch murmured from behind him, also watching the screen.

The headmaster and deputy headmistress of Beacon Academy had been going about their daily duties when they were notified of irregular Grimm activity in Emerald Forest. Ozpin had quickly pulled up the relevant camera feeds just in time to see a man dressed in a long black overcoat cut apart a horde of Beowolves with what appeared to be a stick.

In all his years, Ozpin had seen numerous types of weapons. Scythes that turned into guns, spears that turned into guns, swords that turned into guns, even a lamppost that turned into a gun. Glynda herself used a riding crop. However, he had never seen a small stick used before as a weapon.

Whatever the case, it was highly effective. The man was currently single-handedly holding his own against a swarm of Beowolves, Ursa Minors, Ursa Majors, a King Taijitus, and even a Nevermore. While Ozpin couldn't see the telltale shimmer of Dust, he deduced that the man was likely using a fighting style that utilized wind dust, or perhaps even a wind-based Semblance.

Even though he was vastly outnumbered, the man was efficiently dispatching the Grimm without a hint of worry or panic.

However, that wasn't what amazed both Ozpin and Glynda. They had both seen their fair share of experienced and skilled Huntsmen fighting off countless Grimm at once - they themselves could accomplish the same feat without any difficulty. After all, it's not as if the man was fighting Goliaths or anything.

No... it wasn't the man's unbelievably skilled and powerful movements that astonished them. Rather, it was the lack of.

While the Huntsmen of Remnant all had vastly different fighting styles, the one similarity they all had was that they were never still. Whether it was performing acrobatic flips in the air or utilizing large, forceful strikes, every Huntsmen appeared as nothing but a blur of movement whenever they fought.

This man, however, was standing completely still in the middle of the impromptu clearing. Sure, he was waving his stick around to manipulate Dust, but other than that his feet remained planted in one spot. In fact, at first Ozpin had thought that the video feed was lagging, simply because of how the immobile the man was.

Judging by the expression on the man's face, he was bored. Indifferent. Completely and utterly disinterested. Almost as if the Grimm attacking him weren't worth his attention. Wait, did he just -

"I - " Glynda faltered. "I have never seen someone yawn while cutting a Grimm in half."

Ozpin nodded silently in agreement. At least the man had covered his mouth with his free hand. That spoke of good manners.

He watched the group of Grimm slowly get thinned down until there were only a few left. The man still hadn't moved from his original spot; whenever a Grimm got too close, they would either get blown back or outright sliced into pieces.

It was as if the man was an immovable object.

And Ozpin was more than willing to be the unstoppable force.

He rose from his seat, cane in hand. "Shall we go greet our guest then, Glynda?"

Glynda, for her part, took only one look at his expression before mentally bracing herself for the encounter to come.

|{Ω}|

Harry looked at the carnage around him. A black haze drifting up from the fallen corpses that lay scattered on the forest ground.

These creatures were weak. Their magical resistance was negligible and their speed pitiful, and while they may be powerful, they hadn't gotten close enough in range to actually land any hits. Harry had initially been wary, but a few seconds into the fight it quickly became clear that these creatures weren't a threat to him, and they quickly just became an annoyance.

However, if a muggle wandered into this forest then they would get hurt, so Harry eliminated all the violent creatures. It was tedious work, perhaps, but essential.

Anyway, he had to get his way back to civilization. He picked up a rock and began the arduous task of transforming it into a Portkey. It took around thirty seconds but soon he had a direct link to London. He activated it, expecting to be teleported into the Leaky Cauldron.

Nothing happened.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the beginnings of a headache. What the hell happened to him? Where was he? Why couldn't he get to any of those locations?

The sound of turbines drew his attention. He looked up to see a rapidly approaching aircraft. It looked like a cross between a helicopter and a plane. Once it reached the small clearing, the aircraft stopped, its engines rotating to point downwards, and it began descending. At around ten meters in the air, it halted, hovering above the ground. It didn't have a space large enough to land.

A man and a woman jumped out of the aircraft, landing lightly on the ground. Harry's eyebrows rose. A normal human would've broken every bone in their body if they had fallen from that height, but these two people looked as if they had simply hopped off the bottom step of a staircase to the ground, their movements graceful and effortless.

At first, Harry thought they were muggles due to their transportation method, but after seeing that superhuman feat, they were definitely wizards. Wizards who used muggle technology.

The woman had light blond hair, green eyes, and a stern expression on her face that reminded Harry of McGonagall. She held a riding crop and a pair of glasses rested on her face. Unconsciously, he began readying a list of excuses.

The white-haired man was peering at Harry over an odd set of dark glasses in a manner similar to Dumbledore. His clothes were all varying shades of green, and though he carried a cane, he wasn't leaning on it.

"Good afternoon," the man greeted with a charismatic smile. "Well, for us, at the very least. Can't say the same for them," he gestured to the dissolving corpses around them.

Harry chuckled. "Indeed. Although in my defense, they did attack me first. Were you the one who created these creatures?"

The man blinked, at a loss for words.

"I mean, it's fine if you did," Harry added hastily. "I'm not mad or anything." After all, Hagrid also engaged in illicit magical breeding. Multiple times. Harry had gotten used to it.

"He did not create the Grimm," the woman cut in. "I don't know what rumors you've heard about Ozpin, and while I admit some of them are unfortunately true" - she ignored the man's offended look - "this one certainly is not."

"Ozpin? Grimm?" Harry frowned in confusion. "You've lost me."

The man regained his composure, smiling once more, albeit a bit confusedly. "Perhaps we should begin with introductions to avoid any more misunderstandings. My name is Ozpin, and I am the headmaster of Beacon Academy. This here is Glynda Goodwitch, my deputy headmistress. And I promise you, I did not create the creatures of Grimm."

"Ah, sorry about that," Harry apologized. "I just kinda assumed you were responsible for them, since you didn't seem surprised at their existence." The man and woman both frowned at that. "My name is Harry Potter."

Strangely, not only did they not react to his name, but Harry could also see no recognition in their eyes.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Potter. Could you please enlighten us as to how you arrived in this forest?" Ozpin inquired.

"Ah." Harry scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I don't know."

A beat.

"You don't know?" Glynda frowned.

"I went to bed last night in my hotel room," Harry elaborated, "and when I woke up I was standing in this forest. I have no idea how I got here."

Ozpin and Glynda shared a glance before they looked at him skeptically.

"Okay, I know it sounds ludicrous, but that's what happened, I swear." Harry sighed when their skeptical glances didn't subside. They didn't believe him. He didn't blame them. "Whatever. For some reason, I can't Disapparate or Portkey out of here. Do you have a Floo fireplace I could use?"

"Disapparate? Portkey? Floo?" Ozpin questioned. "What are those?"

Harry frowned as he looked them over once more. Were they muggles? Harry didn't think so, since no muggle could survive a ten meter drop, but then again, he wasn't an expert on muggle technology. Maybe they used some secret government shoe technology to cushion the landing, or something.

Before he could confirm that he hadn't accidentally broken the Statute of Secrecy, three more wolf creatures - Grimm - came charging at them from behind the two. Glynda simply flicked her riding crop. A purple projectile shot out, piercing through one of the Grimm and killing it instantly, while the other two were lifted into the air by an unseen force and slammed into the ground.

"Thank you, Glynda," Ozpin said calmly. Neither of them had even turned around.

Harry relaxed at the display. So they were wizards, albeit wizards who used riding crops instead of wands. But they didn't know what Disapparation was? Or Portkeys? Or the Floo? Or even his name, for that matter?

It made no sense.

Ozpin glanced around, noting the numerous Grimm off in the distance rushing towards them. "The Grimm appear to be attracted to us," he remarked, his eyebrows arched slightly as if such behavior was unusual. "Shall we continue this conversation back in my office?"

"Sure," Harry agreed. "Let's go... " he faltered as he watched Ozpin and Glynda sprint to the edge of the clearing and jump up, leaping from tree to tree in an astonishing display of agility. In a second, they reached the top of their respective trees and in one last powerful leap, they made it through the open door of the airship, landing inside.

He stared up bemusedly for a moment before spinning in place. He Apparated right next to the open door of the airship, immediately overcoming the momentary disorientation and glancing inside the airship. He ignored Glynda and Ozpin's respective shocked and contemplative faces and instead focused on a specific spot. Before gravity could drag him down, he Disapparated once more into the inside of the airship. All without a single sound or displaced strand of hair.

"A teleportation Semblance?" Ozpin mused. "Interesting." He scanned over Harry once more, and for some reason he seemed strangely focused on Harry's messy windswept black hair.

"I prefer the term Disapparition, but teleportation's fine too," Harry said absently, glancing around at the interior of the airship. "I have to say, this is a rather strange method of transportation."

Ozpin tilted his head. "It is? I admit that this isn't the latest model, and it's lacking a few luxuries such as seats, but surely it can't be that strange, can it?"

"No, not that," Harry said, shaking his head. "Where I come from, we don't bother with these fancy airships."

Ozpin raised his eyebrows. "Then what do you use to get around?"

"Broomsticks."

A moment of silence.

Glynda spoke first. "A... broomstick, Mr. Potter? Is this a terminology we're unfamiliar with? Are you referring to another type of aerial vehicle?"

"No," Harry said slowly. "I'm talking about a broomstick." He reached into his moleskin pouch sewn into the interior of his coat pocket, ignoring the potion bottles and miscellaneous items before finally locating his shrunken Firebolt. He pulled it out and returned it to normal size before letting go of it.

It settled in the middle of the air, hovering a few feet above the ground at just the right height for Harry to mount it without any trouble.

"A broomstick," Harry repeated.

Glynda and Ozpin just stared.

Mirth filled Ozpin's eyes. "I presume, Mr. Potter," he chuckled lightly, "that you have read plenty of fairy tales?"

Before Harry could respond to the odd statement, the Bullhead landed at the docking bays.

|{Ω}|

"Now then, Mr. Potter," Ozpin reclined in his peculiar chair. "Take a seat please. We have much to discuss."

They were in Ozpin's office, a round room located at the top of Beacon's highest tower. Interlocking cogs and gears decorated the chamber, as if they were in the center of an intricate clockwork mechanism. There were even gears within Ozpin's desk, covered with a layer of green glass. Glynda stood off to the side in front of one of the large windows that framed the office.

Harry glanced at the seat in question. Straight-backed. Little cushion. It looked extremely uncomfortable. Should he just conjure another chair? No. That would be rude. He sat down, trying his best not to look too reluctant.

Ozpin took a sip from his mug before setting it down on his desk and leaning forward. "Why did you think I created the Grimm?" he asked, intrigued.

Harry shrugged. "You didn't seem surprised by their existence, implying that you knew what they were, so I just thought you were the one who created them." He paused. "Bred them. Same thing."

"Bred them?" Ozpin repeated in bewilderment. "Mr. Potter, what do you think the Grimm are?"

"Results of banned experimental breeding," Harry answered.

Ozpin and Glynda shared a glance.

"Where are you from again?" Ozpin inquired. "And did you go to school?"

"Britain. And yeah, of course I did."

"I see," Ozpin nodded in understanding. "I was aware that some of the villages outside of the four Kingdoms didn't follow a standardized curriculum, but I didn't expect their schools to be that terrible. The more you learn, I suppose."

"Ozpin," Glynda said reproachfully.

"It's true," Ozpin replied. "You can't deny it."

Glynda sighed but couldn't argue.

"Allow me to clear up a misconception, Mr. Potter," Ozpin said. "The Grimm were not bred by humans. They have existed for as long as could be remembered."

Harry stared at him. "That's... not true."

"It is true."

"Pretty sure it's not."

Ozpin sighed. "Trust me, Mr. Potter. Despite what you have been taught, it is true. The Grimm have been locked in an existential war against humanity since the beginning of history - and possibly even before then."

"Right..." Harry said doubtfully. "Where am I again?"

"You are in the Kingdom of Vale."

"And what continent is that on?"

"Sanus," Ozpin answered.

Harry blinked. "Say what now?" His geography sucked, but he was fairly sure that Sanus was not one of the seven continents.

This time, Glynda let out a noise of protest. Harry looked over curiously.

She flushed slightly. "Apologies, but as a teacher, the very thought that your school didn't even teach you the name of the continents..." she stopped, visibly calming herself down. "It's... infuriating, to say the least." She strode over, taking out a translucent tablet-like object and tapping on it a few times before placing it face-down on Ozpin's desk.

A beeping noise could be heard before a holographic projection appeared in the center of the room. Harry turned around, looking at it in interest.

There was a map being projected.

It was decidedly not the map of the world Harry was familiar with.

"You are in Sanus, the continent on which Vacuo and Vale are located," Glynda lectured, taking her riding crop and pointing to a landmass on the map. "Mistral is on the continent Animas. Atlas is on the continent Solitas. Vytal is the island to the north of Vale, and Menagerie is the continent down here. And as for this continent," she paused as she pointed at a distinctly dragon-shaped continent, and her face darkened for a fleeting moment. "It's still unidentified, and there are no human settlements on it."

Harry didn't speak for a few moments, taking it all in.

"Is this a prank?" he finally asked.

Glynda blinked. "Excuse me?"

"No, it can't be," Harry shook his head, muttering to himself. "This is too large-scale even for them. Besides, it doesn't explain my Disapparation..." He trailed off as he noticed a small detail on the holographic projection.

"Map of Remnant?" he muttered. "What is Remnant?"

"It is the name of the world we are on," Ozpin replied.

Harry blinked. "You mean Earth?"

Ozpin frowned. "What does dirt have to do with anything?"

Harry suddenly felt extremely unsettled. "Have you heard of Europe?" he asked desperately. "Or England? Come on, you have to know England; you're speaking English for Merlin's sake."

"I do not know what Europe or England is," Ozpin responded. "Nor do I know what English is; we are currently speaking the universal language of Remnant."

Fear and panic began clouding Harry's mind. Where the hell was he?

He couldn't Disapparate to anywhere in Britain, even though his Disapparition worked perfectly and there weren't any wards or jinxes obstructing him. It wasn't because Britain was out of range, because if a wizard attempted to Disapparate to a location out of their range limit, they would still Disapparate; they would just reappear at the same spot, only feeling exhausted. That wasn't what happened with Harry; literally nothing had happened when he tried to Disapparate. The only way this could occur is if Britain quite literally didn't exist anymore.

The facts connected in his mind, filtering through dozens of possible theories and hypotheses before finally forming a single unpleasant conclusion.

Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.

Harry Potter was in another world.

|{Ω}|

Ozpin patiently waited for Harry, who had been silent for about a minute now, to respond. He also took the time to gather his own thoughts and refill his sugar levels, raising his mug to his lips and taking a sip of hot chocolate.

When Ozpin first greeted Harry in Emerald Forest, he immediately noted that Harry was young, about the same age as a first or second year student at Beacon. He had messy black hair, green eyes, and, like himself, he had on a pair of round glasses. Compared to normal Huntsmen, his outfit was quite tame; black coat, black trousers, and a white shirt. No visible logos.

The headmaster expected Harry to introduce himself as a prodigy Huntsman who was engaging in some pastime Grimm-slaying, or perhaps even a student at Signal who was training to grow stronger.

Ozpin did not expect Harry Potter to ask him if he had created the Grimm.

That was the first sign that Harry was an anomaly, and it would not be the last. After using a teleportation Semblance that reminded Ozpin of a certain someone else who also had black hair, Harry had then proceeded to display a complete and utter lack of basic knowledge regarding Remnant's history.

Not only that, but Ozpin's thousands of years of experience reading people and interpreting emotions told him that Harry Potter was being entirely truthful. He couldn't sense any deception or falsehood at all. Which meant that as far as Harry was concerned, he was telling the truth as he knew it.

Ozpin would have believed Harry was simply someone from a backwater village who was ignorant beyond all belief if it weren't for one important detail.

Harry Potter was trained. While his fighting style may be a bit... unconventional, the fact remained that Harry had fought numerous Grimm at once and come out on top without a single scratch. Only someone trained by an experienced Huntsman can accomplish something like that. And Ozpin simply could not imagine any Huntsmen keeping the existence of the Grimm a secret.

Besides, even if the village deigned to mandate the existence of Grimm a secret for whatever reason, there was no conceivable way for it to actually stay a secret. After all, villages not within the walls regularly experienced Grimm attacks; besides, Harry must've encountered Grimm on his journey to Vale.

As such, Ozpin discounted that theory.

But then what could be the reason for Harry's appalling lack of knowledge?

His mind drifted over to another subject of confusion. Why had there been so many Grimm attracted to Harry? What could've possibly caused him to generate so much negative emotions, but not outwardly show it?

Unless...

Ozpin's eyes widened slightly as something clicked in his mind. He quickly removed the Scroll from his desk and handed it back to Glynda, the holographic projections disappearing. "Mr. Potter," he began, his voice laced with apprehension, "What school did you train at?"

Harry glanced up, shaken out of his thoughts. "Hogwarts," he answered.

"And... please forgive me if I'm bringing up any painful memories, but was Hogwarts destroyed, by any chance?"

Harry flinched, looking away. Painful memories flashed across his mind. Dumbledore's death. The collapse of the Astronomy Tower. Voldemort and him destroying Hogwarts in their fight. "Yeah," he whispered sorrowfully, the memories of the tragedies still fresh in his mind. "It was."

Glynda's stern expression softened by a considerable degree and Ozpin looked at him with something akin to sympathy. "I see," Ozpin said, his tone laced with regret. "Yes, that would certainly explain it."

Trauma-induced delusions and repressed memories. Some Huntsmen were able to deal with the loss of their friends and teammates. Others were not, their minds breaking under the strain.

This explained why even though Harry Potter had no knowledge of the Grimm or Remnant, he was still able to thoroughly massacre the Grimm in the forest. While his memories may have been repressed, his instincts and training will always be remembered, even unconsciously, allowing him to slay his forgotten enemies.

Not only had Harry repressed the memories of the Grimm, but he had also repressed the memories of the basic knowledge he would've learned in school, implying the trauma was related to his school in some way. Which is why Ozpin asked if Hogwarts had been destroyed and not Britain.

Furthermore, this also explained why the Grimm had been attracted to him like flies to honey. The negative emotions must have still been fresh in his mind, acting like a beacon to the Grimm.

"And was Britain also destroyed?" Ozpin asked.

"What? No, it's still standing."

Ozpin nodded. He was right; only the school had been destroyed, not the entire village. That brought him some relief. It was an unfortunate fact of life that villages often disappeared overnight due to an invasion of Grimm, and while Ozpin was saddened to hear that a school that trained aspiring Huntsmen had been destroyed, at least the entire village hadn't been leveled to the ground.

In fact, the students of the school had probably sacrificed their lives so the civilians of the village could live.

His grip on his mug tightened as he thought of her. Such tragedies and senseless loss of life... it was all her fault. His eyes flashed with anger, although it was quickly replaced with his customary calm.

Mr. Potter, you have my most sincere condolences," Ozpin began, setting his mug down and leaning forward, looking Harry in the eye. "However, repressing your memories and living in delusions is not what you should. It may help you temporarily cope, but sooner or later, you will have to deal with the raw emotions and pain that comes with such a tragedy. And this is one of the rare instances in which sooner is better than later."

Harry blinked at him. "... what?"

"I am speaking with all the wisdom I have accumulated over the years." Thousands, but Harry didn't need to know that. "Trust me when I say that instead of avoiding the truth, you need to face it head on. Understand it. Accept it. And finally, recover and grow stronger."

Harry stared at him, speechless. Good. He wasn't denying it anymore. That meant that he was taking Ozpin's words seriously.

Ozpin summoned every drop of charisma he had. "As a Huntsman, we will always be surrounded with darkness. Sometimes, it may seem that the darkness is too powerful and will overwhelm us. But you can't give up. You must endure and forge on. Focus on the faintest sliver of light, of hope, and fight for it."

He paused for dramatic effect before continuing in a softer yet determined tone, "Because that's what it means to be a Huntsman."

There was a moment of silence.

"... okay." Harry's calm and composed voice betrayed no emotions, but the contemplative expression on his face told the headmaster that he was no doubt thinking deeply over what Ozpin had said.

Ozpin only smiled silently, leaving Harry to his contemplations. He raised his mug and took a long sip, relishing not just the delicious scent of cocoa but also the sweet taste of triumph. Being a teacher wasn't just about teaching the students how to fight physical battles. After all, what mattered the most wasn't the external clash of blades but rather the internal battle of the mind.

And in his most humble opinion, he had just won.

|{Ω}|

What in Merlin's name just happened?

Harry had been in the process of mentally cursing all the gods he could think of - he just finished with the Greek pantheon and was moving onto the Egyptians - when Ozpin had interrupted his internal diatribe, asking him which school he went to. Harry answered honestly, since he doubted Ozpin would've heard of Hogwarts. After all, Harry was in another world.

Bloody hell. He already knew that his life was a gigantic cosmic joke to someone out there, and this was just yet another addition to the ever growing pile of evidence. How had it even happened?! Dumbledore had postulated once during his tangents that there were multiple dimensions and that magic could theoretically create a gateway between worlds. However, that was all theoretical. Wizards were no closer to dimension travelling than they were to surviving the Killing Curse or undergoing true resurrection.

Oh wait.

Harry resisted the urge to sigh once more. Or conjure up a hundred delicate glass objects and subsequently make liberal use of the Blasting Curse. He wasn't sure which would make him feel better. Probably both. But he had a feeling Ozpin would object to Harry launching into an explosive diatribe - literally - in his office, so Harry settled for continuing to rant inside his mind.

This was the third impossible thing that Harry had done in his life. Survive the Killing Curse as a baby? Sure. Die and come back to life? Okay. Wake up in another dimension? At this point, why the hell not?

The worst part was that Harry wasn't even surprised at this recent turn of events. Sure, he hadn't anticipated dimension traveling, but he had expected something bad to happen. In fact, he was relieved that he was only thrown into another world and not something worse. At least he wasn't engaged to an alternate Voldemort - or Merlin forbid, Snape. He almost threw up a little in his mouth at the thought.

Ozpin had then asked Harry if Hogwarts had been destroyed. Harry had no idea how Ozpin managed to extrapolate that from what little information he had given him. Harry dearly hoped he wasn't a Seer.

Harry didn't really like Seers.

After showing his concern about Britain, which was nice of him, Ozpin had offered Harry his condolences about Hogwarts. An entirely normal response. Ozpin subsequently proceeded to thoroughly shatter the illusion of normality by saying something about repressed memories and living in delusions.

Before Harry could ask what drugs Ozpin was on, Ozpin had then launched into a speech that Harry was sure would have been motivational and inspiring and all - if Harry had known what the headmaster was talking about. As it stood, Harry only stared at Ozpin blankly, at a complete loss for words.

"Because that's what it means to be a Huntsman," Ozpin finished.

Harry stared at him with a blank expression. "... okay," he said in the most deadpan tone possible.

How else was he supposed to respond?

Ozpin must've been satisfied with his response, because he leaned back and sipped his coffee - wait, no. Judging by the smell, it was hot chocolate.

I want that.

Harry hadn't had anything to drink since when he fell asleep, and the hot chocolate smelled really good.

Ozpin must've caught Harry staring at his drink longingly because his lips curved up as he lowered his mug. "I find that hot chocolate both soothes and clears the mind, allowing for a higher level of thinking," he smiled, ignoring Glynda's badly-concealed snort. "Would you like some?"

Harry smiled gratefully. "I would love some."

Ozpin nodded, standing up and grabbing the ornate white jug on his desk before hesitating. "I'm afraid I don't have another mug," he confessed, gesturing at his desk. "Do you happen to have a spare mug on you? I would give you my spare, but I save that for emergencies."

Why would Ozpin carry a spare mug around with him? Why would anyone carry a spare mug around with them?

"I don't have a spare mug," Harry replied bemusedly.

Ozpin looked conflicted. "I see," he sighed, his hand drifting to inside his coat where he undoubtedly had a charmed expanded pocket. "This does constitute as an emergency, I suppose - "

Harry held up his hand. "Nah, I've got it."

"You just said you didn't have a spare," Ozpin frowned. "Despite the mental turmoil and anguish you must be going through, I cannot allow you to drink directly from the jug, no matter how good your waterfall technique is." Off to the side, Glynda looked as if she was resisting the urge to rest her head in her hands.

Harry's bemused expression became slightly amused. "I - are you a wizard or not? I know conjuration."

With a flick of his wand, a mug materialized into existence which he held out to Ozpin.

It took him only a second to realize that both Ozpin and Glynda had gone deathly still.

Harry blinked. "Problem?"

Ozpin gingerly set down the jug on his desk, his eyes never leaving Harry. "Mr. Potter," he said softly. "What did you just say?"

"Uhh... I asked if you were a wizard or not - " Harry paused, realizing what this must be about. "Oh, my apologies. I didn't mean any offense by that. It was an inside joke."

Ozpin relaxed. "An inside joke?"

Harry nodded, smiling at the memory. "Yeah, back in my first year at Hogwarts, my friends and I needed to light a fire to combat a Devil's Snare, and my friend shouted that there was no wood. She forgot she had magic for a moment, though I can't really blame her. Of course, since we were in moral peril, my other friend wasted no time screaming, 'Are you a witch or not?!'" He chuckled, remembering Ron's reaction to Hermione. "After that, it became an inside joke whenever one of us forgot we could easily use magic to do something."

The smile faded from his face when he saw that Ozpin had tensed up again. Harry tilted his head confusedly. "Okay, if I'm committing a faux pass or something here, it's entirely unintentional, and please tell me-"

"Magic?" Ozpin interrupted. "Your friend had magic? You have magic?"

Harry paused. "Yeah. I thought that was obvious..."

"Prove it," Ozpin commanded, his tone tolerating no argument.

"I... did already," Harry said in bewilderment. "You already saw my Disapparition, my broomstick, and conjuration."

Was that... relief in Ozpin gaze?

"Mr. Potter," Ozpin said, smiling again. "Those were not magic. Your Disapparition is your Semblance, your broomstick likely operates on gravity Dust, and your so-called conjuration is probably just a clever application of rock or perhaps even hard light Dust."

Harry stared at him. "Umm... no. They were magic," he said slowly.

Ozpin shook his head. "They weren't. Magic does not exist, Mr. Potter. I do not fault you for thinking that it does, though," he added patiently. "You cannot control how your mind reacts to such a terrible tragedy. Repressed memories and delusions, while uncommon, are not unheard of. Reverting to a childish view of the world is understandable. Just trust me when I say that you do not have magic."

"He is correct," Glynda agreed. "Listen to Ozpin. While Semblance and Dust may appear to be magic, they are not. Magic isn't real."

Harry raised an eyebrow. Why were they being so adamant on this? Was the Statute of Secrecy really so strict in this world? And what was the state of muggle technology in this world? After seeing a floating broomstick, teleportation, and a mug appearing out of thin air, how could they still think it wasn't magic?

Oh well. Perhaps a demonstration was necessary to prove he truly was a wizard.

Harry stood up and casually waved his wand, letting go of his mug at the same time. The chair under him transformed into a normal sized pigeon that immediately took flight, soaring over their heads - and promptly crashing into the ceiling. Harry winced; transfigured animals didn't have much intelligence. Fortunately, it was unhurt and continued flying around.

Another flick of his wand and Ozpin's desk burst into flames, causing the headmaster to leap back in shock and raise his cane defensively. In a blur of movement, Glynda was by Ozpin's side, also raising her riding crop in warning.

An iridescent blue shield shimmered into existence around Harry just in case they decided to attack, It glowed bright blue for a moment before becoming clear. A sudden wind blew through the room, causing his coat to billow out. The mug finally hit the ground with the sound of breaking glass, shattering into a million pieces before disappearing before their very eyes.

Harry smiled at their shocked expressions, feeling slightly vindicated. "Contrary to your belief, I do, in fact, possess magic."

"Who are you - no. What are you?" Ozpin breathed.

"Countless philosophers across time have pondered those two questions." Harry mused. "Needless to say, the answers they've come up with are nonsensical, impractical, and, quite frankly, hurts my brain. Personally, I prefer conciseness and clarity. And so, in the most simple terms I can think of..."

With another wave of his wand, everything returned to normal. The pigeon flew back and transformed back into a chair, the flames vanished, leaving the desk completely undamaged, and the shield disappeared. A sharp intake of breath could be heard.

"My name is Harry Potter," Harry smiled brightly. "And I am a wizard."

|{Ω}|

Armed with literally millennia's worth of memories, experience, and knowledge, Ozpin thought that nothing could truly shock him anymore.

He was wrong. So very wrong.

For the first time in centuries, Ozpin lost his calm composure; indeed, his composure seemed to have completely disintegrated. He stared at Harry with wide eyes, utterly flabbergasted, feeling for once like he was the one in the dark, uninformed, fumbling blindly for answers.

Ozpin was not used to feeling this way. He was always the one who held all the answers; the mysterious headmaster that somehow seemed to know everything. Most people who met him were convinced that he was nigh omniscient. And so, to be so out of his depth that the figurative water pressure was pulverizing him, he felt he could be forgiven for reacting the way he did.

He had a good reason for it though. An exceedingly good reason that would hold up even in the most rigged and biased court. After all, he had just witnessed the literal impossible.

Magic.

Or rather, magic being used by someone other than himself, the four Maidens, the Branwen twins, or her. Humanity had lost their magic eons ago, and the only way for a human born in the modern era to acquire magic is either by becoming a Maiden or being gifted it by Ozpin.

Given how Harry Potter was obviously a guy and Ozpin had only granted magic to two people in the last century or so, it should've been inconceivable for him to have magic.

Unless Salem decided to give him some of her magic -

Ozpin mentally chuckled at the absurd thought. Yeah, that would never happen.

Of course, the headmaster hadn't taken it at face value. He would've been a fool if he had. Initially, he thought that Harry used an illusion Semblance, or perhaps even a mind altering one.

However, while Ozpin had known logically that it was impossible for Harry to have magic, his intuition told him something different. The ancient wizard had long since learned to unconditionally trust his intuition, no matter how insane or irrational it may be. After all, it had saved his life too many times to count.

As such, against all logic and reason, Ozpin decided to activate his third sight, a technique that took him several centuries to perfect. His third sight allowed him to see beyond the physical surface of the world and observe magic itself. Quite useful if he needed to locate an unknown Maiden or defend himself against invisible spells.

He rarely activated his third sight since a Maiden's powers transferring to someone random happened infrequently, and fighting a Maiden - or her - was even more rare. Besides, he was always inflicted with headaches after using it.

This situation called for it though.

And so, Ozpin had closed his eyes, channeling his magic. When he opened them again, he was using his third sight - and what he saw caused his mind to go into DEFCON 1.

Magic swirled around his desk. Magic rippled across the air. Magic flowed about the bird.

More importantly, magic radiated off Harry Potter. It was as if by simply breathing, he generated magic. If the Branwen twins were flickering embers and the Maidens were flames, then Harry Potter was the sun itself; a shining supernova of raw, unconstrained energy.

It was like looking at a mirror of himself back when he was in his prime.

A true wizard.

Ozpin's gaze then landed on the small, innocuous stick Harry carried.

Pain. Misery. Despair. Hatred. Resentment. Suffering. Anguish.

Death.

It took all of Ozpin's considerable amount of self control to prevent himself from shuddering at the sight.

He suddenly understood why the Grimm had been attracted to Harry. It wasn't because of the negative emotions brought about by the destruction of Harry's school, although that may have played a minor role. No, it was all because of the stick.

The stick that Harry held casually in his hand was so drenched in despair and hatred that it was supernatural. Just how much death and destruction and tragedy must it have caused for the negative emotions surrounding it to become metaphysical?

This wasn't the first such phenomena Ozpin had observed. As a matter of fact, his own cane also attained a metaphysical state of being after several centuries. However, his cane shone with hope, strength, and the unrelenting determination to protect whereas the stick emanated waves of negative energy.

Ozpin felt his cane twitch ever so slightly under his grasp. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but he couldn't help but wholeheartedly agree.

That accursed stick was the very antithesis to everything Ozpin ever stood for and fought for.

An abomination of the highest degree.

He only hoped its wielder wasn't the same.

"Who are you - no. What are you?" Ozpin breathed in horror, preparing himself to enter battle and do the paperwork that came with the inevitable destruction of his office - hey, he liked to plan ahead.

"Countless philosophers across time have pondered those two questions." Damn it, just get to the point already! Ozpin ignored the little voice at the back of his head telling him that he himself enjoyed tangents and monologues such as this. "Needless to say, the answers they've come up with are nonsensical, impractical, and, quite frankly, hurts my brain. Personally, I prefer conciseness and clarity. And so, in the most simple terms I can think of..."

I am an evil wizard. And I will be the cause of your death. Prepare to die, Ozpin!

Ozpin tensed up, his eyes narrowed, his magic thrumming under his skin.

With another wave of the horrible stick, his office returned to normal. The pigeon flew back and transformed back into a chair, the flames vanished, leaving the desk completely undamaged, and the shield disappeared. Next to him, Glynda gasped in shock.

Ozpin merely furrowed his brows in confusion.

"My name is Harry Potter," Harry smiled brightly. "And I am a wizard."

... not exactly what Ozpin expected, but he'll take it.

Ozpin recovered remarkably quickly, adopting a polite and serene expression once more. He lowered his cane. "I see," he smiled, desperately stalling for time so he could collect his thoughts. "I was mistaken. You are a wizard. Forgive me."

Harry waved him off as he sat back down. "It's fine, I don't mind. Actually, I apologize for setting your desk on fire," he said apologetically. "I only did it because that's how the headmaster of my school - transfiguration professor at the time - introduced magic to one of his students, but in retrospect, I probably shouldn't have used him as a role model. It was kinda rude."

"Headmaster? Students?" Even though Ozpin's tone was unconcerned, his mind was whirling as he took a seat. How had he missed a... a secret society of wizards and witches in Remnant?! A society so developed that there were even schools for magic?! Was it even possible? "You mean to say there are others who can use magic?"

He already knew what the answer would be. Harry Potter had already mentioned his friends being able to use magic, as well as the headmaster of his school. His mind reeled from the idea.

Harry's face darkened. "No, there aren't."

Wait. What?

Ozpin tilted his head. "I thought you said your friends are able to use magic."

Harry's voice was barely a whisper. "Were."

Oh.

Oh.

That's right. Hogwarts had been destroyed. And from the sounds of it, Harry Potter was the only survivor. "I'm sorry for your loss." Ozpin hesitated before continuing. "But surely there must be some adults who already graduated that survived."

Harry shook his head. "No."

"I thought that Britain is still standing."

"It is," Harry nodded before chuckling bitterly. "The buildings, at the very least."

Ah. The joys of semantics.

"I see," Ozpin murmured. "Mr. Potter, did anyone other than yourself survive the destruction of your village?"

"No. I'm the only one left."

A silence descended upon them.

|{Ω}|

Upon realizing that he was in another world, Harry immediately began creating a backstory for himself. After all, telling them that he was from another dimension wouldn't exactly be a smart decision, since he barely even knew them.

Fortunately, he hadn't told them much yet; the only information about himself he revealed so far was that Hogwarts was destroyed and Britain was still standing. And a few anecdotes. Nothing major that couldn't be fixed with some clever wordplay.

In the end, the backstory he decided on was this:

He was Harry Potter, a wizard from Britain. Hogwarts, the school of magic, was leveled to the ground. Britain's infrastructure was spared but its people were killed. He was the only survivor; everyone he knew was dead. He had been travelling on foot and with Disapparition until he reached this forest.

Simple and vague enough that not even he could screw it up - and even if he did, it helped that they thought he was delusional, amnesiac, and traumatized for some reason, so any inconsistencies or errors could be blamed on that.

Now if only they could stop looking at him like he was a wounded kitten...

And why was Ozpin glaring at his wand?

|{Ω}|

"Why are you glaring at my wand?"

Ozpin blinked at the sudden question before realizing that yes, he had unconsciously narrowed his eyes when staring at the stick - wand. Magic wand? Odd, but then again, this whole situation was odd.

He quickly smoothed over his expression and smiled politely. "Apologies, Mr. Potter. It was unintentional. However, now that you mention it, I confess there is a matter concerning your wand."

Harry frowned. "What is it?"

Ozpin leaned back in his seat, appearing relaxed and at ease, a practiced smile on his face that gave him the air of a mysterious headmaster that knew everything. A smile that contrasted with his next words. "Your wand is so drenched in death and despair that it's metaphysical." His eyes flashed dangerously even as he continued to smile. "Care to tell me why that is?"

Harry's eyes widened. "Okay, whatever you're thinking, I assure you it's not the case," he immediately said. "I deny all accusations and take no responsibility."

Ozpin merely raised an eyebrow.

Harry sighed. "Let me guess. You think that I'm some kind of dark lord that has committed unspeakable atrocities that violate the laws of man and nature alike and has plans for world domination."

"Something along those lines, though not as drastic," Ozpin agreed amicably. "I would highly appreciate it if you could disprove that theory, of course."

"With pleasure," Harry replied good-naturedly. "I suppose an explanation is in order. Alright, so long story really short, this" - he held up his stick - "is the Elder Wand. And it has a history so bloody it gives vampires mind-melting orga - " he stopped abruptly before muttering something that sounded like damn it serious.

Ozpin didn't want to know what Harry was about to say.

"Anyway," Harry resumed, "This wand has had around fifty masters in the past few centuries. And almost every single time, the previous master of the Elder Wand was murdered by the successor.

Not only that, but most of its masters were either evil, insane, or a combination of both. Think of the worst, most inhumane acts, and at least one of the masters had done it with the Elder Wand. Murder, torture, genocide, annihilating entire villages..." he shrugged. "You name it, and the Elder Wand has probably done it."

Next to him, Glynda made an odd choking sound. Ozpin didn't blame her; he could barely suppress his shudder of revulsion.

"Thankfully, in the last century or so, the Elder Wand's history became more peaceful," Harry continued. "My headmaster was the previous owner of the Elder Wand, and he gave it to me willingly. Similarly, while he did defeat his predecessor in combat to attain the Elder Wand, he spared his life. And his predecessor spared his predecessor's life as well."

Ozpin slumped imperceptibly in relief. "I see. And I presume that, like yourself, your headmaster was an exception to the evil-insane rule?"

Harry chuckled. "Definitely. Dumbledore may have been a manipulative old bastard, but evil he was not." Despite his insulting words, Ozpin detected fondness and affection in Harry's voice. "Dumbledore was good, and I mean that in every sense of the word. While I may have disagreed with some of his methods, everything he did was to protect and save as many innocent lives as he could."

Ozpin smiled. "He sounds like a good man." He hesitated. "But why - "

" - would we use a wand like this?" Harry finished. Ozpin nodded curiously. If it was him, he would just lock the wand away like he did the Relics, only with no key.

"The Elder Wand is a tool," Harry said, his wand spinning in his hand. "It may possess some degree of sentience, but in the end, it is nothing but a tool that exists to serve the desires of its master. In the wrong hands, the Elder Wand would be a terrible tool of magic that causes death and destruction. But for those who master and use the Elder Wand, not for gain, but to save others..." he smiled. "It is beyond doubt an instrument of good."

"An instrument of good inundated with the presence of death and negative energy," Ozpin remarked dryly.

Harry shrugged. "A sword stained with the blood of a million people still has the potential to save a million more."

"Touché," Ozpin inclined his head. He deactivated his third sight and gazed upon Harry Potter once more, seeing him in a new light.

Here stood before him someone whose entire village was slain by the Grimm. All his friends and family were dead. He was suffering mentally. He carried possibly the second most dangerous weapon Ozpin had ever laid eyes on, the first being the Relic of Destruction.

And he was a wizard.

Ozpin looked at Harry with a contemplative glint in his eyes as a plan began to form in his mind.

"Mr. Potter, how old are you?"

There was a slight pause before Harry answered. "Seventeen."

A pleased smile spread on Ozpin's face. "I see." he leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "Mr. Potter, you said that you wished to save and protect others with the Elder Wand, correct?" Harry nodded slowly. "Perfect. Then let me make you an offer that will allow you to do just that."

Harry tilted his head. "I'm listening."

"Join Beacon Academy and become a Huntsman," Ozpin said determinedly. "You will be able to protect and save countless lives from the overwhelming Grimm. You will be the light of hope that shines brightly in the darkness. And, more importantly..." his voice grew softer. "You will have the opportunity to save villages from suffering the same fate as Britain."

"Join a school?" Harry made a face. "I'm seventeen. I think I'm a little too old to join by now."

"Average age of first years at Beacon Academy is seventeen," Ozpin countered. "You would fit right in."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Seriously? Huh. I don't have any money though - unless twenty-seven Galleons, eighteen Sickles, and I think... 3 Knuts is enough."

"That's no issue," Ozpin smiled, ignoring the unknown terms; they must be the currency of his village. "Beacon Academy has a scholarship fund available that will cover the cost if you choose to join." Glynda glanced over at that, but Ozpin waved her off.

"What do you say, Mr. Potter? Will you become a Huntsman and protect humanity?"

|{Ω}|

Harry considered his options and situation carefully. He was in another world with limited funds, little knowledge, and no way of getting back -

He paused as the full implications hit him.

Harry couldn't even understand how he arrived in this world, much less reverse engineer it. Hell, Harry doubted that even Dumbledore could figure out a way to dimension travel.

For all intents and purposes, Harry Potter was stuck in the world of Remnant.

What was he going to do?

Work at a cafe? Become a bartender? No, definitely not. Harry had neither the patience nor energy to deal with the creatures of hell known as entitled customers. Besides, none of those jobs appealed to him - at all.

Travel the world and see the sights? Make this unwanted trip into an impromptu vacation? Maybe. Harry needed a break. But at the same time, he wouldn't be able to enjoy himself if he was busy relaxing while innocent lives were being lost to the Grimm. He could just imagine Dumbledore's disappointed face.

Finally, the last option. Become a Huntsman. A Huntsman sounded similar to being an Auror, a career path that Harry had expressed interest in before. Harry enjoyed protecting and saving people, after all. His saving people thing, as Hermione so eloquently put it. On top of that, this would practically be a vacation, since the Grimm were less of a threat to him than Kneazles - at least Crookshanks had managed to scratch his face once before.

Furthermore, going to a school and making friends without the constant looming threat of a dark lord that wanted him dead? No, not just that - going to a school where nobody knew him? With no expectations, no preconceived notions, nothing?

It sounded amazing.

Harry made up his mind. "Sure," he agreed. "I'll become a Huntsman." And if he didn't like it, he could always just drop out.

"Excellent." Ozpin smiled. "Welcome to Beacon Academy, Mr. Potter. Hot chocolate?"

|{Ω}|

Harry sipped his hot cocoa contentedly. Sweet. Delicious. Now all he needed was some treacle tart, and it would be the perfect breakfast.

"Oh, by the way, Mr. Potter," Ozpin spoke up. "Please keep the existence of magic a secret from - well, everyone."

Harry frowned. "You let muggles join your school?"

"Muggles?"

"Err, people who can't use magic."

Ozpin nodded in understanding. "Mr. Potter, I don't know what the situation was like in Britain, or how the magical population managed to survive, but for the rest of Remnant, only a few people can use magic."

"Okay."

"And by a few people, I mean less than ten."

Harry nearly choked. "What?!" he asked incredulously.

Ozpin nodded. "So please, do not reveal the existence of magic to anyone. If you do, then I fear you will be in grave danger, and numerous people would wish to either capture or kill you. Please pretend that your magic is your Semblance."

Harry nodded slowly. "Alright." It appeared his world and Remnant had more differences than he had initially thought. He needed more information on this world. "Does Beacon have a library?"

It was time to do a Hermione.

|{Ω}|

"Scholarship fund?" Glynda asked amusedly as she exited the elevator, having finished escorting Harry to the Beacon library. "Since when did we have a scholarship fund?"

"What do you mean?" Ozpin asked innocently. "We've always had one."

Glynda didn't respond, instead raising her eyebrows.

Ozpin chuckled. "Okay, fine. I'm paying out of my pocket. But the benefits gained are far greater than any costs. I would've been willing to pay Harry to attend Beacon if that's what it took. He is, after all, a wizard."

"Fair enough." You think she knows about him?"

Ozpin's expression grew serious. "Given how his village was massacred by the Grimm, she almost certainly does. He is in more danger than he can possibly imagine. If he didn't have his teleportation, then I daresay he would either be dead or captured already."

"I can't believe he survived out there without Aura," Glynda said. To a Huntress whose life depended on Aura, such a thing was unthinkable. "Although considering the powers of magic, I shouldn't be surprised. Should I activate his Aura for him?"

Ozpin nodded. "Please do."

A companionable silence descended over them.

"You realize that we're taking a huge risk with Harry, correct?" Glynda spoke up.

"Risk? I prefer a leap of faith, personally."

Glynda silenced him with a glare. "Unreliable background. Damaged mental state. He doesn't even remember the Grimm, Ozpin. Not to mention how his stick - sorry, magic wand - is apparently evil and attracts Grimm. Oh, and Salem's probably after him, so the other students are also in danger."

Ozpin regarded her silently. "Do you trust me, Glynda?"

Glynda hesitated. "I do, but - "

"Then trust me on this. Please."

"... fine." Glynda whirled around and strode towards the elevator, pressing the button and stepping inside past the doors. She stopped momentarily, not looking back. "For your sake, and the sake of humanity as a whole... I hope you're right about this." With that, the doors closed behind her, and Ozpin was left alone in his office.

"Hope," Ozpin mused quietly, standing up and walking before one of the huge windows overlooking Beacon. He stared off into the distance, absently sipping his hot chocolate as he was lost in his thoughts. A long time ago, he had all lost hope once and fallen into despair. Even after he had clawed his way out, his hope had always been a shadow of its former self.

Until now.

For the first time in millennia, the flickering embers of hope within Ozpin's heart burst into roaring flames that gave him his second wind. His eyes filled with newfound energy and determination.

Salem had been alive and causing death and destruction for several eons now. Perhaps it was finally time to change that.

I've been watching and reading quite a lot of RWBY lately. This is the result of that.

I really enjoyed writing Ozpin and Harry's interactions. Ozpin is easily one of my favorite characters, and I really hope I did him justice.

This Harry Potter is from an AU, obviously. There was a canon divergence in his Fifth Year. Harry is stronger than his canon counterpart, but he's nowhere near the insane level of Harry from Fate: Sorcerer. More will be revealed later.

Thanks for reading, and please review!

euphoric