Rome wasn't built in a day, and I sure as hell didn't take down all the Death Eaters in one either. But I did enough damage to shake that bastard to his core. Now, I'm certain he's losing his mind, and that's exactly what I wanted.
Let him rage. Let him froth at the mouth while he scrambles to piece together whatever's left of his shattered plans. I've got other things to do—things I've been putting off for too long. Meanwhile, Moldy and Gaydore can tear each other apart like rabid dogs. They'll eventually run out of pawns and need fresh idiots to throw into the fire.
You see, when I can't end a problem permanently, I make it more problematic. I stir the pot, watch it bubble over, and let the flames consume everyone who stands in my way. If life hands you a toxic parent, you go beat up some kids until they cry to that parent. Then you sit back and watch the chaos unfold. It's a strategy as old as time itself.
Now, does this actually help? Oh, abso-fucking-lutely not! It doesn't do a damn thing to improve the situation. But who in their right mind would want to solve problems when you can revel in the disorder? Life craves chaos, and I'm more than happy to oblige. Besides, my future wife will be thrilled with the mayhem I'm about to unleash.
I blush at the thought of her approval, but quickly shove it aside. There's work to be done. Right now, I'm on my way to meet some semi-cool people. And by semi-cool, I mean they're dead. Why else would I use "semi" to describe them?
As I enter the room and make my way towards their grand hall, I can't help but think about how loaded these people must've been when they were alive. Financing a project like this isn't cheap.
"Hey, assface, wake up! He's back!" Slytherin's voice echoes through the hall, dripping with excitement.
"Who's back?" Gryffindor's groggy reply follows, making me wonder if they can actually sleep in their soul forms.
"The little brat! The one with the face that screams 'give me a slap!'" Slytherin cackles.
I can't resist. "Yo, old man, if anyone's face is screaming 'give me a slap,' it's yours, you damn baldy!"
"Haha, hear that, baldy? Even the young ones don't respect you!" Gryffindor laughs, clearly amused.
I add, more annoyed now, "I don't respect you either, you dunderhead!"
Slytherin smirks, "Haha, hear that? Finally, someone else sees you for what you are!"
"They're at it again," Ravenclaw sighs, exasperated. "I hoped we might get at least a decade of silence this time…"
Helga snorts, "Yeah, that's a pipe dream when you have two men in a room with two women and neither of them can get laid!"
I stare at her, shocked. I didn't peg her for the liberal type.
She notices my look and chuckles, "Get off your high horse, boy! I'm a woman, and all women are sensual beings."
"Yeah, that's just a euphemism for being perverts," Slytherin interjects.
"Says the guy who loves having his arse fingered," Gryffindor shoots back, clearly amused.
"Wait, were you two a couple or something?" I ask, trying to be serious.
"No, we weren't! I just confided in this guy, not knowing he's a snitching bitch!" Slytherin snaps, his anger evident.
"As if I'd settle for a bald head like him," Gryffindor retorts.
Slytherin isn't done. "Well, at least I don't find blood and gore exciting enough to masturbate after each duel."
I shudder at the thought, glancing at Gryffindor, who looks entirely too smug for someone who should be ashamed.
"Well, that's disturbing," I mutter, trying to shake off the unease.
"Guys, can we stop the cock-measuring contest before the year is over, or is this going to be like our first decade all over again?" Ravenclaw deadpans, her expression tired.
"He started it!" Slytherin says, his annoyance palpable.
"I'm not your mother, and I don't care who started what! Just end it!" Ravenclaw snaps back.
"Hahaha, I love how close we all are," Hufflepuff says good-naturedly, clearly the peacemaker of the group.
I take a moment to study the four portraits. Something catches my eye—have their clothes changed? Do portraits change clothes, or is it just these four, because they've basically embedded a piece of their souls within the paintings?
"So, you're back?" Ravenclaw asks, her voice cutting through my thoughts.
"Yes, ma'am. I'm back. I had to go into hiding for a while, but now I'm a teacher at this school for the foreseeable future," I reply.
"Oh, and who's strong enough to force you into hiding?" Gryffindor questions, his tone curious.
"Now? No one! But back then, it was the descendant of the bald one, combined with my own hubris," I explain, catching Slytherin's smug expression.
"What happened?" Hufflepuff asks, worry lacing her voice.
"Well…" I begin, recounting the tale. How I was invited to an honor duel during a ball, how it was all a ploy to kill me and my grandfather, and how he sacrificed himself so I could escape. How I retaliated publicly, against everyone, and then went underground for a few years. During that time, I gathered enough dirt on people to place myself in a position of political power, ensuring my safe return without immediate persecution.
After all, I'm a known murderer. The only reason no one's come after me, despite my new position as a professor at Hogwarts, is because I've got everyone either in my pocket or under my thumb.
"That's tragic. I'm sorry for your loss," Hufflepuff says softly, before adding, "But by already fighting against that man, you've essentially changed the prophecy we had."
"What prophecy?" I ask, curiosity piqued.
"This room was our contingency—a way to train someone to carry the flame. I assumed it would be you in my prophecy, but it seems I was mistaken," she explains.
"So, does that mean the tests are off the table for me?" I ask, hopeful.
"Oh, you can still be tested, and we're willing to share our knowledge. But it simply means that another will come in the future—someone who will bring change to the wizarding world in Britain," she says. I stop listening after that. As long as I get access to their knowledge, I don't give a damn about anything else.
"Good. Honestly, I did not want to be responsible for what's going to happen to this nation's magical community," I say, feeling a wave of annoyance as I recall how I was treated during my time at school, and even more so afterward.
"I see," Helga responds softly, her tone tinged with sadness.
"Don't be sad," I tell her, trying to lift her spirits. "I'm working for the betterment of society, just not for Britain. This country's political landscape has turned into a cesspool—it needs some serious cleaning!"
"Yes, we saw that coming," Gryffindor says with a knowing nod.
"Done with the boring stuff? Whose challenge do you want to tackle first?" Slytherin cuts in, his voice brimming with excitement. I take a moment to recall who wanted what.
"Let's see… Gryffindor wants me to beat him up in a fight, right? Miss Ravenclaw wants to see some new magic, and Miss Hufflepuff wants to, well, mind-fuck me. Did I get that right?" I ask, waiting for their confirmation.
"That's basically the gist of it," Slytherin replies, stroking his beard with a mischievous grin.
Hufflepuff, ever the gentle soul, corrects me, "I wouldn't call it mind-fucking, but yes, I do want to see what's going on in your mind. Our secrets are best kept from those who would use them for evil purposes."
"Hey, as if a brat like you could ever beat me up! I was fighting dark wizards when I was barely ten years old! Your generation is too soft to stand a chance against me," Gryffindor scoffs, clearly annoyed by the suggestion.
"I want to see magic!" Ravenclaw chimes in, her excitement bubbling over. As she speaks, my eyes involuntarily drift downward, and I can't help but notice her figure. Damn, those curves are something else. They just don't make them like that anymore.
I quickly snap my gaze back up, hoping no one noticed my lapse in focus. But in the back of my mind, I can't help but think that even after all these centuries, some things really are timeless.
I take a deep breath, glancing at each of them. This is either going to be one hell of a challenge or just a complete bore. After all, I did what every seasoned gamer does in an open-world game: I roamed, leveled up, and now I'm back to face challenges that were designed for students.
Part of me wonders if I'm about to steamroll through this, but another part is curious—these four were legends in their own right. Maybe they've still got some tricks up their sleeves, even after all these years.