So, which Dark Art do you want-" I promptly stopped myself the moment the rest of the office came into view, the image of Horace Slughorn cutting off whatever I'd been about to say as a narrowed gaze filtered onto my face.
Dumbledore made no reaction, as he did for the entire journey here, instead electing to walk around the larger than usual desk and settling in the middle between Slughorn and McGonagall, the woman unlike the Potion master's clear disgruntlement gracing me with an amused expression.
"-I am not teaching Slughorn." I promptly crossed my arms. "That's a good way to turn Voldemort even more dangerous!" I finished.
Horace in response harrumphed, his displeasure at my presence only growing more pronounced. "And what exactly is that supposed-" The man started, only for Dumbledore to raise a tired hand, his gaze locked onto mine.
"Well you have to admit, you have a good history when it comes to helping Tom Riddle make-"
"Sirius." McGonagall cut in with a sigh. "Teaching professors-" A brief hint of amusement filtered into her voice at the idea, "-is not why you're here."
I let out a shrug. "Can't say it'd help much- Besides you and Flitwick, I reckon the best thing you could for the others is to just Imperio the-"
"That's against the law Sirius," Dumbledore remarked calmly, while Horace paled, his expression telling me he wanted to be doing anything else than be here.
I rolled my eyes at the old man.
"Which is why you'd be casting it!" I grinned. "I doubt Azkaban would be more stressful than being the headmaster of Hogwarts!"
"I see." Dumbledore deadpanned in response, blinking a few times.
"'sides, it's not against the law if it's consensual!"
"Consensual..." Horace muttered bemused. "Who in their right mind would consent to the Imperius!?"
"Horace..." Dumbledore turned a pointed look towards the man in question, while McGonagall settled for exasperation.
"Well... I mean magical competence is attributed to seventy percent practice and so is essentially sub-conscious..." I remarked, putting a finger on my chin. "I'd say anyone terrible at it?" I paused. "I mean really, it might not make your magic more destructive as that's a talent issue,but an Imperius order to be a lot better at magical casting might curb the ole deathtoll this mor-" I coughed. "Dumbledore's responsible for."
McGonagall raised an eyebrow at the idea, no doubt considering imperiusing her next class into finally turning a hat into a rabbit-
"Sirius," The woman called out again, shaking her head, amusement clearly dancing in her eyes. "I am not planning to do that- And again, you're not here to teach us- The headmaster wished to speak to-"
"Why doesn't he say it himself? Instead of letting everyone else do his job for them?" I questioned innocently. "Last I checked that was partly why so many fuckin' people died." The amusement died off the woman's face as she let out another sigh, before pointedly looking towards the wary man in question.
There was a conflicted expression on Dumbledore's face. Which, well, I mean the man basically had resting-conflict face as his default.
"You know," I added on, leaning back into my seat. "For all that you wanted to avoid dueling Voldemort until you figured out where his Horcruxes were" I ignored Horace's sudden startled response. "-In the original timeline you never really gotthe chance to duel him at all... Instead, you fell to one of his cursed Horcruxes because you couldn't resist seeing your dead sister again."
Something flashed across the old man's face, even as McGonagall's own one paled, her eyes widening.
Horace just started shaking his head in denial.
"Are you suggesting Voldemort cursed..." The older man seemed to find himself stopping short as he let out a sigh. "Rather smart of him." The man let out an uneasy chuckle as he shook his head.
I snorted in response.
"Not really, the dumb fuck didn't even know what the stone was, hell he didn't even know you had a fascination with them, to begin with, so focused on putting the ministry under his racist cult's umbrella as he was." I paused. "Which admittedly he did a pretty good job of,"
"Impossible." Horace immediately remarked, his eyes narrowing once again, hints of anger filling his gaze. "The ministry wouldn't so easily fall to an attack let alone-"
Not wasting a beat, I promptly grabbed hold of the wand in my sleeve and put it up to my temple. The action briefly froze the man's tirade, though the other two made no reaction.
Waiting for a single beat for any complaints to what I was about to do, complaints I didn't receive. I promptly reached for the memory of a certain statue that Voldemort had thought necessary to place into the literal entrance of the Ministry of Magic.
Taking it out, the white whisps latching onto the tip of my wand as they were extracted, I watched as Dumbledore waved a hand, his pensive hovering over towards me.
With a snort, I promptly pushed more magic into the memory, and instead of pushing it into the pensive, I let it expand and wash over the entire room, coming to life before all of them. The action took the headmaster back judging by the slightly widened eyes, while McGonagall settled for a hum of approval, and Horace just paled further.
Of course, the moment they took in the 'Magic Is Might' statue, all of them settled for utterly passive expressions.
"By the way, those aren't statues." I lied, watching as horror broke through their expressions. "Those are the mudbloods you leave behind," Letting out a sigh, I raised an eyebrow at Dumbledore. "Thatis the legacy I am trying to prevent... That's the legacy you leave behind headmaster- Because the moment you died, to stupidity no less, everything went to hell."
I let out another scoff.
"I mean really, what else did you expect? If the castle can't even teach Defence Against the Dark Art's properly, how the hell did you expect anyone to fight against an army of dark-magic-wielding lunatics? Let alone the cream of its psychotic crop?"
The old man's face seemed to age another decade as he stared at the memory, at the visuality of his failure. McGonagall's expression held a hint of the same, albeit there was more acceptance to it, while she graced me with... An appreciative expression?
Huh.
"Fabricated..." Horace muttered weakly, once again shaking his head. "Has to be fabricated there's-" He sucked in a breath. "Can't be, just can't-"
I twitched in response.
Reaching for my temple, I grabbed hold of the memory that Dumbledore had tried and failed to cajole out of Horace. The racist statue's memory disappeared in a puff of smoke as I replaced it with the memory of a student Riddle asking Slughorn if cutting his soul seven times was healthy.
When the visual settled in, I watched as Horace's expression practically melted, what with the way it couldn't even decide if it wanted to turn pale, or outright pass out completely.
I could literally see the moment McGonagall lost all of her respect for the man in question. While resignation finally filled Dumbledore's eyes.
"So, here's what's gonna happen." I shrugged, gaining the two professors not trying to pass out's attention. "You-" I pointed directly at the old man, "-can either teach the damn lesson yourself, or I will." I promptly stood up of my seat. "As for the 'Dark Lord' currently been backed into a corner- The only way, I am letting go of the chokehold of a position he's in right now and letting him bounce back, Horcruxes captured or not, is if you literally duel me for it before a public audience not made up of my classmates." I waited for a single beat as the challenge filtered through.
"That way, when you inevitably kick the bucket for whatever bloody nonsense fate has in store for you, the country can fall into my hand's protection, instead of crumbling to the Dark Lord's boot."