Waking up in a chair was one thing. Waking up in a chair in the middle of a headmaster's office, dressed in an emerald-green suit, with hands folded neatly over a polished desk? That was something else.
The weight of the glasses on his nose was unfamiliar. The slight chill of the room—tall windows framing an endless sky—felt distant, as if the office itself was holding its breath. His fingers twitched. He exhaled, slow and controlled, like a man who had always belonged here.
He did not belong here.
Okay, okay. Let's assess the situation.
He looked down at his clothes. Fancy. His desk? Very fancy. The huge hourglass in the middle of the room? Too fancy.
His brain? Empty.
"Oh no."
He grabbed the nearest reflective surface—a ridiculously ornate teacup—and checked his face. Silver hair. Glasses. Tired eyes. Oh crap. I'm Ozpin.
A sharp inhale. Okay. That's fine. That's totally fine. No memories of actually being Ozpin, sure, but I know the plot. I just need to—
He turned his chair slightly and caught sight of Beacon Academy outside the window. Towering, pristine, a beacon of hope for the world.
—run an entire school. Full of teenagers. And trained hunters. And also there's an immortal witch coming to kill me.
"Oh no."
He leaned back in his chair, hands over his face. Think. Think. What point in the timeline is this? He shuffled through his fragmented meta-knowledge like a man rifling through a half-burnt filing cabinet.
Ruby's here? That means we're at the beginning. No Fall of Beacon yet. No Cinder wreaking havoc. No immediate world-ending crisis…
His shoulders slumped. "That's a lie and I know it."
A sigh. He sat up, running a hand through his hair. Alright. No internal Ozpin voice. No mysterious past knowledge. Just me, a terrifying amount of responsibility, and—
His gaze landed on the stack of paperwork on his desk. He prodded it cautiously, as if it might bite.
—oh god, bureaucracy.
He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "How do I even pretend to be Ozpin? Do I just—drink coffee mysteriously? Make cryptic remarks? Offer people cookies?"
He paused. That actually sounds about right.
Leaning back in his chair, he steepled his fingers dramatically and tried his best wise-old-headmaster voice. "Miss Rose, destiny has placed you on a most arduous path—"
Nope. Too ominous.
He cleared his throat and tried again. "Miss Rose, would you like a cookie?"
…Okay, that felt right.
With a deep breath, he nodded to himself. "Alright. Step one: act mysterious. Step two: figure out my powers. Step three: don't die."
He glanced at the giant hourglass again. "Step four: maybe find out what that thing actually does."
A knock at the door made him jolt. He straightened immediately, trying to look composed, like a man who had not just been contemplating his inevitable demise.
Glynda Goodwitch stepped inside, clipboard in hand, looking as no-nonsense as ever. "Sir, the girl from last night is here."
The girl from last night?
His brain lagged for a second before the memory hit him. Oh. Ruby. The Dust shop. Torchwick. The whole dramatic recruitment thing.
Right. This was that scene.
He plastered on a neutral, knowing expression. "Send her in."
—
Ozpin—no, he—had barely come to terms with his situation when the door to his office creaked open. He straightened instinctively, adjusting his glasses in what he hoped was a wise, knowing manner.
Then he remembered he had no actual wisdom.
Great start.
A tall woman stepped inside, clad in a crisp white blouse and a flowing purple cape. Glynda Goodwitch. Right. His second-in-command. The woman who actually made sure this place didn't collapse into chaos.
She fixed him with a sharp stare. "Headmaster, the girl is here."
The girl.
Oh.
Oh no.
Ruby Rose.
The main protagonist. The plot's starting point. The catalyst for—everything.
His mind raced. If he screwed this up, would the entire plot unravel? Would Remnant implode? Would Qrow break through his window and suplex him for ruining his niece's future?!
Glynda cleared her throat, unimpressed with his (probably suspicious) silence.
"Ah," he said at last, forcing himself to smile in a way that hopefully didn't look like a hostage situation. "Of course. Please, send her in."
Glynda gave him one last, slightly narrowed look before stepping aside. In walked a small girl in a red hood, shifting awkwardly as she clutched the hem of her cloak. Silver eyes flicked up at him, wide with uncertainty.
Alright. Think, man.
She was nervous. Obviously. The girl just got arrested for vigilantism. She probably thought she was about to be expelled from life itself.
He needed to be cool. Collected. Mysterious.
He reached for the teapot on his desk. Smoothly poured himself a cup. Took a slow sip.
And burned his tongue.
He forced himself not to react, subtly pressing his lips together as if deep in thought rather than swallowing back a pained noise.
"Miss Rose," he finally said, voice steady despite the betrayal of scalding tea, "do you know why you're here?"
Ruby fidgeted, gripping her cloak tighter. "Uh, because… I stopped some robbers?"
He nodded sagely, as if that was exactly what he expected. It wasn't. He was just stalling.
"And do you believe that was the right course of action?"
She blinked. "…Yes?"
"Interesting." He steepled his fingers, trying to appear thoughtful. "And do you always intervene in dangerous situations alone?"
She hesitated. "Well, no, but—I mean, I had to! People were in danger, and I couldn't just stand there!"
Her voice picked up, nervousness fading into conviction.
He exhaled through his nose. Classic protagonist energy. She was still a kid, but there was already that unwavering determination in her.
He leaned back slightly. "Miss Rose, do you know what a Huntsman is?"
She nodded eagerly. "They're warriors who protect people from Grimm!"
"Correct. And do you know what separates a Huntsman from a reckless child with a weapon?"
Her shoulders tensed. "…Experience?"
"A license," Glynda interjected flatly from the side.
He fought back a laugh. Okay, yeah, fair.
Ruby shrank slightly. "I didn't mean to cause trouble…"
He softened his expression. Okay. Less ominous, more approachable.
"You have great potential," he said truthfully. "However, potential alone is not enough. Training, discipline, teamwork—these are all necessary to become a true Huntress."
She looked up, hopeful. "So… what happens now?"
He reached to the side, picking up a plate from his desk, and slid it toward her.
"Would you like a cookie?"
Ruby blinked. Stared at the plate.
Then, very slowly, she reached forward and took one.
"…So does this mean I'm not in trouble?" she asked, mid-bite.
"You are not," he said smoothly, as if this was all part of some master plan rather than him winging it at terminal velocity. "In fact, I would like to offer you something."
Her chewing slowed. She swallowed, eyes wide. "Like… what?"
He smiled, the first real one since waking up in this mess. "A place at Beacon Academy."
Her brain was visibly short-circuited.
He took a sip of tea. This time, it wasn't scalding.
Progress.