Witch Oz Fic
Mirror and Image
There was a certain dread when October approached, as well as a thrilled anticipation. For witches, such as Ozpin, every day was a long slog of preparation. Getting herbs, seeds, rare ingredients, firewood, the list seemed ever endless. Then came Halloween, the longest day for any witch. The day where magic surged and the most potent potions and brews could be created. Potions and brews that would sell well enough to last for the year, if one prepared well. Any concoction not made on Halloween was dirt cheap and undeniably less effective.
So in late August, when Ozpin saw the first leaves start to turn, he pulled out his brewbooks, started listing what ingredients he could and couldn't get based on growings and harvests, and planned out what potions he would make. September had him sending out letters for ingredients, each with a spelled wax seal that didn't need potency and could be brewed whenever needed. The seal always ensured that the letter would arrive to the intended recipient, and it was the reason that witches were often able to keep their particular family brewbooks secret from the scam artists who tried to imitate them.
October itself would be all the preparations. Drying herbs, grinding pastes, skinning and tanning, if necessary, another endless list. As it was, the day before October started, it was well after sunset when Ozpin was finally able to leave town with his parcels settled into his backpack. He walked the streets briskly, finding a good rhythm with his embossed cane. To most, he looked a distinguished, if old-fashioned, gentleman. If any were truly paying attention, the cane would be a give-away, but Ozpin did appreciate the style of a cane and waistcoat. Once at the outskirts, he walked through some shadows and pulled out a shaker. A quick sprinkle on his shoulders and he was no longer noticeable.
With a content hum, Ozpin adjusted his backpack, and pressed the knuckle guard of his cane. The air around the base wavered, swirled, and then it was a broom. A quick glance around, even though he was currently unnoticeable, and Ozpin mounted his broom and took off. He almost had all the ingredients he needed. He'd have to squeeze in another visit to town at some point to check for deliveries.
The chill air and strong breeze made for a cold flight back, but the weather hadn't quite changed enough for Ozpin to justify having a heavier coat with him when he was in town. But he was able to pull some gloves from his jacket, and a scarf, to make the flight more bearable. The olden days of cloaks would have been better for flying. It would be easy to hide the heavier garments needed for such flights. On a whim last winter, Ozpin had even dug up an old design and hand-sewn one himself. But such flights of fancy were for after Halloween.
For now, Ozpin had a great deal to do.
His home was only an hour's flight, nestled deep in the woods, with protective stones and wards set so that anyone lost wouldn't find their way in. Only those with one of Ozpin's talismans would be able to come in, and there were very few indeed who had any.
Oscar had turned on the floodlights, giving Ozpin a clear beacon for his landing. Already, a substantial chunk of the back yard had been harvested, the fields turned for the winter, and firepits were starting to be dug. Ozpin landed in front, where Oscar was leaning over the hydrangeas, looking through the branches.
"I'm home!" he called. A click of the knuckle guard and Ozpin's broom had returned to a cane.
Oscar pulled himself out from the bush, flashlight in his teeth. After dusting off his hands and adjusting the flashlight, Oscar called back, "Welcome home!" As Ozpin walked up, Oscar ran a dirty hand through his hair. "Dinner's just about ready."
"I'll finish up then," Ozpin said. "You look like you've been rolling in dirt all day. I'll set dinner out once you're clean."
Oscar gave a soft chuckle. At only fifteen, he was hitting a growth spurt and was gangly and awkward. "We'll have to keep an eye out. I think I saw some cabbage hoppers and we don't want to get infested."
Ozpin let out a heavy sigh. "That's the last thing we need with October upon us."
"I spent most of today going through the fields. They were starting to come through the turnips," Oscar said, getting the front door open, "but I think I've got the worst of the infestation taken care of. We'll need to keep watch the next few days."
Ozpin set down his backpack. "Have we any remaining pest potion?"
"No," Oscar sighed. "And our last batch was for mice, not hoppers."
"I'll look up the ingredients, you go get clean."
It took twenty minutes to pull out his parcels, unwrap and label them, sort and store them, and finally turn to the kitchen. Oscar had a casserole in the oven, the ceramic dish bubbling just slightly in the low heat. Ozpin pulled it out and put it on a circle of cork at the dinner table, wiping down the counters and cleaning them with lemon water. That reminded him that they would have to pull out the cauldrons over the weekend and inspect them, scrap off any rust and make sure their sigils were still strong. Cauldron work was minimal to nonexistent over the year, but October, Halloween, the things were brewing nonstop.
He finally got around to pulling off his scarf when Oscar came back, hands clean and hair with the rough damp quality of someone who ran wet hands through it several times and in a clean shirt. Ozpin lit some handmade candles, herbs encased in the wax for scent, and the pair sat down to eat.
"Do we know if Qrow is coming?" Oscar asked.
"He didn't reply," Ozpin said. "But, then, he and phones don't always get along."
Oscar snorted. "Duly noted."
The running joke was that Qrow did not remember how he and Ozpin had met, and Ozpin never had the heart to explain. To Qrow, he had simply woken up from a drunken bender to see Ozpin in his run down apartment, making some kind of hangover cure tea, doing a load of laundry, and wearing the only button up Qrow owned as he glared in disapproval over the state of the kitchen.
To Ozpin, he met Qrow when the man's curse broke one of his spells. Ozpin had been in a back lot in the city, unnoticeable and tracing out sigils with chalk on the asphalt in preparation for a spell. His cane had been leaning against the brick of a building and Qrow had tripped over it, clicking the guard and shifting it to a broom, stumbling magnificently for several steps before landing inside Ozpin's circle, forcing him to smear the design before the magic activated.
Qrow moaned, red-faced and without any sense of balance. Unnoticeable, he didn't realize Ozpin was there until he tried to get up, stumbling again and bumping right into Ozpin.
"What the fuuurgh…!"
His entire stomach emptied on Ozpin's shirt, ruining not only his clothes but also days of work on the sigil. Qrow looked around confused after his sickness, locking eyes with Ozpin. "... where the hell did you come from?" he asked, before promptly passing out and crumpling to the ground.
Ozpin was, perhaps understandably, a little put out with his ruined shirt and chalk sigil. Moreover, he couldn't leave the drunk there, in his own regurgitation, to die of asphyxia or alcohol poisoning or whatever else. Sighing, he rummaged through the drunk's pockets to find a name: Qrow Branwen, and an address in one of the meaner sections of the city. In doing so he finally sensed the curse around Qrow, and realized there was more than initially met the eye.
It was late summer at the time, and his stock of potions were small, let alone what was on his person, but more shakes of his unnoticeable powder and a small gulp of a potion to enhance his strength and he was able to carry Qrow to the man's apartment, laying him out on the couch just as the enhancement ran out. The apartment was as much of a mess as the drunk, but he was able to find a stackable washer dryer and peeled his ruined shirt into a load, mixed with whatever fistfulls of clothes he found scattered around the space to justify the laundry.
The shower was clean (enough) to use it and he was able to find exactly one decent shirt, clearly unused in years, to wear temporarily as he waited for something to change into.
The kitchen(ette), the absolute center of any witch's world, was a rage-inducing disaster: pots and pans caked in filth for days, a dishwasher that had never been started, a slew of empty beer cans, plastic vodka bottles, takeout styrofoam, and plastic bags full of garbage. He'd been forced to clean the stove off and then go out and buy a teapot to brew tea. He had some dried Creeping Thyme and Stinging Nettle to flavor the tea and help with the inevitable hangover, and he added Prunella Vulgaris for some more generic healing. He oiled the cup with a potion to enhance the effects and waited for the kettle to boil, glaring at the mess of a kitchen that so rankled his witchly sensibilities.
He heard the drunk, Qrow, moan himself awake, sitting up and rubbing his face before looking around in confusion. Ozpin mostly ignored him, waiting for the moment when the water was at the exact right temperature, and then pouring it into the tea, setting the timer on his phone to let it steep before finally addressing the man who had - literally - stumbled upon him.
"... where the hell did you come from?" the man asked, voice low and pained.
Ozpin spared explaining their disaster of an encounter. "Wait until you've had some tea in you."
"... only if you lace it with something…"
Ozpin smirked. "It's laced with many things," he said brightly, checking his timer. "Also, your kitchen is an offense to humanity. I'm surprised you're still alive."
Qrow offered a rude gesture that was summarily ignored as the timer went off. His charge outright cursed and held his head at the loud, pulsing beacon of an alarm, but Ozpin offered no comment, walking back to that dreaded kitchenette and finishing the tea. He checked the scent before going back into the main living space and placing it near the man's hands to pick up on his own.
The man drank it and made a face, cursing and putting it down.
"Drink all of it," Ozpin instructed.
"The hell I will."
"Hell has nothing to do with this, Mr. Branwen. Drink it or you'll suffer for hours yet."
"What the hell do you know?"
"I know you're living under one of the strongest curses I've ever seen, and I want to help you."
Qrow snapped to attention - or tried to, before he grabbed his head in a spike of pain and drank his tea out of reflex. Ozpin removed a rumpled blanket from a chair, sitting on the very edge for fear of how dirty everything in the apartment seemed to be, and waited.
In fifteen minutes the other man was alert and staring at his brand new teacup. "What the hell was in this?" he demanded.
"Crawling Thyme, Stinging Nettle, and Punella Vulgaris. With some tea, of course."
"... crawling… stinging…? What the hell, are you some kind of witch or something?"
"Very good, Mr. Branwen," Ozpin said to the incredulous question. "I am indeed a witch."
"... I must still be drunk."
"You can think that, if you wish. When you're ready to hear me out about your curse, let me know. Until then, I'm simply waiting for a shirt of mine to finish drying."
The rest, as they say, was history. Qrow, of course, needed some time to accept witchcraft and magic and spells and sigils, and even longer to understand that he was - in fact - cursed with bad luck. Ozpin didn't know who cursed him, or why, but he wanted to work on breaking the curse, and the very idea that a life without bad luck could actually happen for Qrow had led to - well. He had expressed his gratitude thoroughly over the course of three days where they both got very little sleep. They had been inseparable ever since.
Though, strictly speaking, they did not (yet) live together. Qrow's bad luck curse wrecked havoc not only in his life but in a witch's magic. Even powerfully enhanced Halloween potions soured quickly if he spent too many days at Oz's, and being there while he or Oscar were crafting led to dud potions, bad spells, or even feedback. Qrow drove up to the cottage as little as possible, and Ozpin in turn made certain that he had no important potions or enhancements on him when visiting.
He did, however, completely overhaul Qrow's kitchen and banned him from ever letting it get that bad again.
"Hello up the house!"
They were halfway through the meal when they heard Qrow arrive, and Ozpin quickly wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin and got up to greet him.
"Hello," he said brightly, opening the front door.
"Any spells I gotta worry bout?"
"No, we're still harvesting and gathering. Come on in, we set a plate for you."
Qrow came in with a warm hug and a gift. "Saw this at that store you showed me," he said, "Still don't know much about the whole crystal thing, but I figured you might have a use for it."
"... jasper?" Ozpin said, holding the crystal up to the light as he and Qrow sat back down. "That's an excellent find, we can use it on Halloween when we break your curse."
"That's a good size, too," Oscar said as Ozpin handed it over. "We can use it as a focus point."
Qrow was already dishing out a bowl for himself. "If that works," he grumbled. "Your stop-gap is already wearing out. My truck wouldn't start this morning."
Ozpin thinned his lips. "If that softening potion is deteriorating already, you might not be able to come here till Halloween itself." That would be most unfortunate.
Unsurprising, giving the curse was about being unfortunate.
It had been, oh, the third year they'd known each other, when Ozpin had read about a brewmaster's theory book about a softening solution, used to soften the effect of harder spells that could easily take a toll if one wasn't careful. The first recipe hadn't worked, but Ozpin had seen enough through his spelled glasses to know they'd discovered something, and after some trial and error they had a functioning brew. It was usually the most important potion that Ozpin made every year. It couldn't remove Qrow's curse, but it could soften the effects, wear down the rough edges, so that his misfortune wasn't catastrophic.
This year, however, was different. When discussing fortune charms with colleagues, Ozpin ended up pursuing a line of thought that had led to this year's endeavor. Oscar was still in charge of the softening solution, just in case, but Ozpin had been researching for the better part of five months and doing small experiments.
He wasn't the most adept with crystals or larger scale spell circles, his speciality was always potions, but Ozpin knew magic in a way most witches didn't. That was his own curse.
Qrow was frowning. But he nodded. "I'll stay the night."
Ozpin gave a soft smile.
Oscar had, quite literally, wandered into Ozpin's life. He had been in town, collecting herbs and doing small spell circles. Most witches had a set of spell circles set up in their nearby town: Little areas to create safe refuge, or to have more magical deliveries. Such circles required regular maintenance, and it did get a witch out of one's home regularly. Ozpin had been doing maintenance on the circle he used that spread out and connected to his other spell circles in town. It kept the town anonymous which worked to Ozpin's benefit.
Whenever he did that sort of sigil work, Ozpin kept his shoulders sprinkled to be unnoticable, but he also had the appropriate sigils in the larger spell circle to keep the circle itself unnoticeable. No one ever entered the area if Ozpin was working there.
Thus, he was surprised when he was recharging various sigils with his powdered concoctions when a small child, wearing dirty stained clothes, and looking dangerously thin came over to look at the sigils. Ozpin watched, content in his anonymity, as the child went to sigil after sigil, studying it, before finding a piece of chalk that must have broken off when Ozpin had been retracing the more worn patterns and started to draw around the sigil.
That wouldn't do.
So Ozpin came over, steps soft and unnoticable, to gently stop the child from altering the spell circle. Before even reaching the child, however, the child had looked up with hazel eyes right to Ozpin, and shrunk down, attempting to hide himself.
Ozpin paused, brushed off his shoulders, and simply sat down by the child. He broke the sigil and the spell circle, knowing it was probably going to take two more days to reset everything, and pulled out his own chalk to add to the child's drawing.
After a while, the child uncurled, and continued drawing. Ozpin observed fading bruising around the neck, scars on the back of the hands, and lice in the hair.
He held back his fury, discreetly took pictures, sent a few texts and continued drawing.
After almost two hours, the child finally started to ask very quiet questions. Another two hours of conversation, and Ozpin offered his hand to help the child walk safely.
The child, Oscar, had brought Ozpin to a corner where he had been waiting for a parent to come home from work.
"How long do you wait?" Ozpin asked softly, having pulled out a vial of healing potion and putting it into the juice he had bought. He gave the juice to Oscar.
"Til dark," Oscar said.
Ozpin held his burning fury back and kept going with gentle conversation.
A police car pulled up to the curb down the street and the two officers walked toward them. Oscar saw them quickly, then hid behind Ozpin's tall frame and shrunk himself down again. Even longer conversations occurred, and Oscar wouldn't leave Ozpin's side.
It took a month for Ozpin to get custody. He had the unfair advantage of potions and powders that could illicit truth. He used every inch of that unfair advantage.
After all, Oscar was also a witch. No one else could see him when he was unnoticeable.
And once Oscar understood that he was safe, once he understood that Ozpin loved him and cared for him and wouldn't hurt him, Oscar flourished.
Naturally, there were last minute evening rituals, mostly a thorough cleaning of the kitchen to be ready for the following day. Ozpin would be making anything that could be made ahead of time for the next week, at least, while Oscar finished cleaning out the fields.
"I'm going down to the basement," Oscar said.
Ozpin blinked. "You should go to bed. Tomorrow will be a lot of hard work, you'll need your rest."
Oscar actually chuckled. "I'll go through the brewbooks and check our lists. I know how tonight's going to go. Qrow won't be able to see you for a month. I'm sure he has plans and I don't want to hear it."
Ozpin had the decency to blush. "I suppose that's true. I wasn't planning on it because I will need sleep for tomorrow."
"I think you can afford a few hours of sleeping in before Qrow heads out."
"You know me so well," Ozpin smiled.
"Don't worry, I'll have some coffee for you in the morning." Oscar ran a hand through his hair. "I do want to double check. I know the ovens will be busy all day, but I want to check how many firepits we'll need."
"Ten by my reckoning, if we use all the large cauldrons for each fire, and add smaller cauldrons around each of the large."
"That will depend which potion is with which. Good night, Dad."
Ozpin hugged his son close. "Don't stay up too late."
"Only if you stay up really late."
"Oscar!"
Still, Oscar's prediction came true.
Panting, sweating, and limp, Qrow collapsed back into bed and Ozpin pulled him close. "Fuuuck," Qrow swore, "if you have that much energy at your age, I can't wait to see what I can do to you when I'm that old."
Ozpin gave a happy little hum, then his standard reply to their ongoing comparison. "You won't have that energy when you're as old as me. You're using it all up now."
Qrow chuckled, despite having heard the same line so many times over the ten years they'd known each other. They settled together comfortably, and started to fall asleep.
"It will be a long month," Qrow murmured, "not being able to see you."
Ozpin's lips twitched into a smile and he nuzzled closer. "I will be in town one more time for a delivery. I'll text you when."
His lover, his partner, his heart, sleepily wrapped his arms around him, and gave a soft kiss.
Curse breaking was no simple task. Ozpin had done it more than once over the years, but Qrow's was a work of terrible art. Breaking curses required reverse-engineering the curse itself. Depending on the nature of the curse it could be relatively simple, but more often than not curses were made by baby witches, people new to their power who hadn't studied enough yet to understand the consequences or feedback of the spells they were trying to make. That made each curse slightly unique. Smaller curses could be broken with an equally small counterspell, but bigger curses required more research to understand the unique twist of how the curse came to be.
Qrow's curse however, was deliberate, something created specifically to make Qrow suffer not just for a set period of time but all his life. Deliberate curses were more powerful, the patterns and sigils and craftsmanship more complicated and therefore harder to reverse engineer to break. Moreover, Qrow's was self-sustaining, something so rare Ozpin didn't understand how the curse kept rejuvenating itself until two years into its study. Qrow did not know who cursed him, though his best guess was one of his parents. His childhood was dark, much like Oscar's before his adoption: a moody, suspicious sister who abandoned him, a dear friend who died, an unrelated brother who raised his nieces alone.
Ozpin could trace several flashpoints of the curse, he told Qrow some of them but not all of them - Qrow already blamed himself for so much and he didn't want to add to that pile. Knowing the flashpoints helped him understand how the curse triggered, and after that was research on sigils and counterspells.
Curse breaking of this complexity had its own dangers - the curse had to be broken completely or the break would fail, and the feedback could be deadly for something like this. Qrow had adamantly refused Ozpin the chance to try for years, saying he was fine with the softening potion. But it soured sooner and sooner, and in time it wouldn't last the entire year. The knowledge weighed on them both, and eventually Qrow accepted the attempt.
Halloween preparation this year was the biggest in several. The lunar calendar had aligned to also give a harvest moon for the evening, making the night even more potent. Every inch of ceiling in the house was filled with herbs, flowers, cuttings, and plants to dry out to use for their potion work. Chickens had been plucked, and broken into their base cuts, spines and wings boiling down in two cauldrons to create stock for both food and smaller potions throughout the year and their cuts stuffed in a freezer for Halloween night. Herbal candles were created, crystals were activated first by laying in the sun and then burying in the ground. Water was purified, sigils were traced out and then renewed, and their backyard slowly filled with piles of drying wood for bonfires - a different wood for each fire to unlock different kinds of magic for their potionwork.
Every inch of space was used in the house as well. Mason jars lined every counter, shelf, and corner of the floor to stock the potions as they were ready over the course of the night, prelabeled either with marker or color coded cork. By November third the entire basement would be filled with enough magic to last them the year and sell for income. For now the space was just rows and rows of empty shelves and spaces for their cauldrons when not in use. Two cots were also set up for them to collapse when all was said and done, drained of all energy and unable to make it to a proper bed.
The first week of October, Ozpin had traced out the spell circle he'd need to break Qrow's curse, meticulously drawing out every sigil, every line down to the millimeter and using a drone to check from above if anything was off. All the crystals had been charged and buried, and he intended to let the magic slowly build in the circle until Halloween for greater potency. The compass points of the circle had bonfires steadily going, with small cauldrons soaking up certain herbs and bones for even further potency. The most important part of breaking the curse would be getting Qrow to the center of the circle. Given that the curse would likely be trying to fight back, that was Ozpin's biggest worry.
Oscar was the one who had figured that out. September had been Oscar carefully sewing out a coat by hand with thread soaked in a potion that encouraged safety and the cloth was coated in a wax that prevented damage. Ozpin had looked the coat over, studied the magic, and added small spell circles at the cuffs to encourage a better flow of the magic.
"You know, something will go wrong," Oscar said quietly, after a long day in the fields preparing. "That curse won't go down without a fight."
Ozpin stretched a shoulder out, feeling his age. "I know," he replied. "All our preparations are to make sure that however that curse manifests, it won't damage anything. I know magic, Oscar. Qrow has been with us for ten years now. I've seen how that curse twists and manifests. I've studied it. We are limiting the ways it can ruin everything, so that anything it does, can be quickly repaired." He gave a wan smile. "In the end, all we can do is our best. Qrow doesn't deserve this."
"But Dad," Oscar said, looking down, "even with all the protections, the feedback has to go somewhere, and that means it's going to go to the caster. To you."
"It will be okay," Ozpin said softly. "My own curse will keep me alive."
"... you shouldn't bank on that," Oscar replied softly.
"... I know. But he still doesn't deserve this."
Ozpin was, above all else, a potion master. Gathering herbs, grinding pastes, cooking in the kitchen, it soothed his old soul and created magic that lasted for - if made correctly - years at a time. The work was timeless in a way that he was timeless. It was also a celebration of life, the constant renewal of nature, growth despite the odds, respecting the world they lived in. Many assumed he was a green witch or a kitchen witch, but just because potions were his preference did not mean he didn't excel in other crafts. Any witch needed at least passing knowledge of sigils and magic circles, true, but he had invented more than a few in his time. He was acutely aware of omens and other auguries, he had a gift for drawing out the power of crystals, and he very often used the lunar cycle to enhance his craft. His spirit had crossed the cosmos more than once, and there was no facet of witchcraft that he was not a master of.
His son Oscar also had eclectic skills as a result, but his passion came unequivocally from gardening, the plants, and growing and the harvesting. He was also adept in the kitchen, but it didn't drive him the way it did Ozpin.
Certain plants couldn't grow in their climate, tropical items that needed more time and energy than either of them could afford as far north as they were. With the alignment of the lunar calendar and the upcoming attempt to break Qrow's curse, there were also rare woods to get for either their bonfires or other, more complicated potions that they would be brewing: bloodwood, himalayan cedar, pale moon ebony. There were also several herbs and plants that Oscar couldn't maintain even in a greenhouse that had to be special ordered. The time to gather these items were year round, usually, hunting the internet looking for a special deal or waiting for a known supplier to find a cutting or branch. To their benefit they didn't need long planks of wood like carpenters or craftsmen, just a specific number of branches to give the right energy, spark, or potency to a bonfire to enhance the magic they were already creating.
That was the reason for Ozpin's second trip to the city, two weeks before Halloween. The bloodwood had finally arrived, and Ozpin needed to inspect it for his latest attempt at cursebreaking. The hour broom ride was windy and - worse - rainy. He was soaked through when he finally landed on the roof of a specific building, shivering slightly as he picked the lock of the roof access and took the elevator down to the fifth floor. He knocked on the door he knew best, shaking out his head and splattering water everywhere.
"You look like a drowned rat, Oz," Qrow said as he opened the door.
"It was a long ride," he answered, "and I am in desperate need of a shower and warm clothes.
Qrow snorted, a lecherous grin on his face but he said nothing. Since their first meeting and with the help of the softening solution, Qrow had straightened himself out enough to have a job and enough money for a better apartment in a better neighborhood. Ozpin had scrupulously gone over every part of the kitchen and the half bathroom to make sure it was up to not only Qrow's (nonexistent) standards but also to his for when he had need of either. Now he could freely take his shower knowing there would be handmade products without factory interference so that he could clean himself without pollution of the manufactured world. That was especially important this year.
Qrow knew when to avoid joining him in the shower, and Ozpin felt alive again when he finally toweled himself dry and put on a green turtleneck and a tweed suit. His lover had a pot of cream simmering for hot chocolate, adding it just as Ozpin was stepping out.
"Ah, a miracle worker," Ozpin said softly. "How ever did I get on without you?"
"A far cry better than you do now," Qrow said with a wry grin. He moved in for a hug, but Ozpin held out his cane to keep his lover at a distance. Qrow frowned. "Really?" he grumbled.
"I am not taking any chances," Oz replied sadly. "If this is to work, everything must be perfect. Cleaning oneself before doing magic isn't just a ritual of olden times. A strong witch needs to purify oneself for maximum potency. Smaller potions and brews, those will work even if we'd made love for a week before brewing them. This, however…." Ozpin gave another small, sad smile. "If this works, I'll freely be yours without any worries of magic or potions or brews for however long you'll have me."
Qrow nodded. "I'm already yours," he replied. "Curse or not." He shrugged and stepped back from the cane, keeping the distance. "I doubt this will work," he said, "but if it does, I'm going to fuck you into the matress for a week."
Ozpin's eyes glittered. "We'll have to send Oscar into town then."
"If my curse breaks, maybe we can work on yours next."
Ozpin let his smile crack. "My curse won't break so easily."
"Won't know till we try," Qrow replied with his usual easy confidence. "Want me to walk you around town?"
"Yes," Ozpin said emphatically. "But unfortunately you are a temptation. Necessary purity after all."
Qrow laughed. "I just turn your head no matter what."
"Always."
"Oz, I'm going gray."
"And very distinguished."
"I won't be able to pull off white hair like you do."
"No one else can. And it's silver, not white."
"I'm not winning this argument, am I?"
"Of course not. This would be the part where I kissed and held you."
"But purity nonsense."
"Purity necessity."
"Fine, fine." Qrow smiled. "Go."
The week leading up to Halloween was perhaps the most exhausting. Anything that could be made ahead or needed time to steep was top priority. And amongst all that, was prepping food as well. Ozpin was the better at actual cooking, so he spent a good chunk of time making enough food for not only Halloween, and the day before, but also for the following days when both his and Oscar's magic would be worn out and they'd both be at their most exhausted and weakest. Qrow would likely be looking after them, but if anything went wrong with breaking his curse, he'd need to keep his distance until all their brews were properly packed and stored away.
Once Ozpin had food ready and stored in the fridge, he started baking and roasting brew ingredients while Oscar stayed outside keeping the cauldrons that had been soaking in necessary herbs heated, kept the fires going, and started mixing for the potions that took the longest time on the fire, potions that would finish Halloween night with plenty of potency. It was a flurry of activity throughout the day and well into the night.
The day before Halloween, Ozpin and Oscar slept in shifts. Oscar slept through the morning while Ozpin bustled around outside and inside. At noon, Oscar woke up and shared a meal with Ozpin and Ozpin slept the afternoon away. He was already tired enough that his body didn't mind the break in his usual sleep rhythm.
Ozpin woke at sunset, his magic already humming in his blood. Halloween wouldn't truly start till sunrise, but the magic in the air was already thickening and Ozpin wouldn't be able to sleep through it. Neither could Oscar, nor any truly powerful witch. With scant hours before the sunrise and the start of all their work, Ozpin brought Oscar inside and the two of them took deliberate time to relax.
"Herbal tea, a cozy fire, and a warm blanket," Ozpin said softly, settling into his favorite chair, crossing his legs. "I can think of no better way to relax before the chaos of tomorrow."
Oscar nodded, a clipboard in front of him. "I was able to start a few things ahead of schedule. If we keep the pace going, we'll have more wiggle room in case anything goes wrong."
Unspoken was the real possibility of Qrow's curse making something go wrong.
"I've already texted Qrow," Ozpin replied. "He'll be at the edge of the property before sunset. That will give him several hours before we're ready in case his truck breaks down and he needs to call an uber."
"He already has his coat out," Oscar added. "I texted him earlier to remind him. He grumbled about it, but he sent a pic that he already had it out for tomorrow. He plans on wearing it all day."
Ozpin wasn't sure if the magic woven into the coat could last an entire day. He pulled out his phone to text Qrow to wait until noon, but he saw Oscar had beaten him to it in the groupchat. He couldn't help but smile. "You're ahead of me again, it seems."
Oscar's smile was radiant. "Someone has to be. Eventually."
"For now, let's enjoy a good book. Once Halloween starts, neither of us will have much time to rest."
An hour before Halloween started, Oscar warmed up a meal for the two of them, and they ate in comfortable silence. Then came showers with proper medicinal soaps and purifying potions.
Both of them were already outside when Halloween began, each with their own clipboard of items and with a nod, they both set to work. Oscar worked on the larger potions, the massive cauldrons that needed herbs and ingredients and certain times, with requisite stirs or cook down time. Ozpin focused on the smaller potions.
He made a circuit. First were the potions at the woodstove, the potions at the hearth, then all the smaller cauldrons outside around all of their bonfires. Each station had boxes of vials and jars for portioning as potions finished and Ozpin had decades of practice to do everything so smoothly. The simplest potions that could be made in such large quantities were first. Jar after jar after jar of quality, potent salves and solutions that would be sold over the next two months. After a cauldron was emptied, Oscar came by to pull from the boxes of ingredients set next to each of the small cauldrons with the ingredients and amounts for each brew that was labeled to get a new batch started.
When the sun rose, Ozpin sent Oscar inside to eat something and he took a moment to examine the spell circle and the brews around it. The magic in the circle had been gathering for most of the month now, and with the dawning of Halloween, the magic was starting to cycle around, slowly building in power. The potions at each of the major marks of the circle were bubbling and humming. These were mostly Oscar's responsibility today. Ozpin was relying on the continuous motion of going from one batch of small brews to another in order to stay limber and awake. Halloween itself was going to take all his attention. He stood briefly at the edge of the circle, feeling the magic through his bare feet, and adding the smallest touches of his own magic, nudging and guiding in the way that only his own curse could allow, to get even the most miniscule improvement of the circle.
Oscar came out and Ozpin went in to get something to eat and to warm up. With the morning light came more work. He checked the potions already created and found the one for alertness, already set aside for the night's work. He examined the colored liquid, perfectly clear with only a small skim of impurities that had bubbled up over its few hours of settling. He popped open the jar and skimmed off the impurities, knowing he would do it at least two more times before he and Oscar took the potions, and did similar things inside as he could, eating while working.
Two of the hearth potions were complete, and he ladeled them out to their appropriate vials and jars, prelabeled, and left them open to set as he lit more incense. Back outside he added crystal water to some of the smaller cauldrons on the compass points of the brewing circles to purify the more finicky potions, stirring as necessary and finishing one brew and starting another. He and Oscar passed by each other several times, but both of them were too busy in their own work to do more than nod at each other. Their clipboards slowly filled with checkmarks as brews finished, the main floor of the house filling with potions whenever one of them went inside for something, to be brought down to the basement.
Ozpin was just getting warm inside, his toes wiggling by the fire for a few minutes while he ate a meat-filled pastry for another brief meal before heading out again to look at the smaller potions. Some of the salves were likely ready to bottle and then a cleansing brew next for those cauldrons. For the briefest of moments, he felt a tingle along his skin and he paused. He reached out for the magic, but so much was brewing or gathering, it was hard to tell what-ah.
Qrow was outside by the property, patiently waiting. And an hour before sunset. Smiling, Ozpin went to his phone, texted a heart and a thumbs up, and ten o'clock, the time they'd get started on breaking Qrow's curse. There was a thumbs up reply and Ozpin nodded, getting back to work. With evening approaching, the smaller brews were almost done. Now came bottling the larger brews. Ozpin worked with Oscar on each of the large cauldrons, carefully ladeling out their largest bottles for storage and resale. Once a large cauldron was done, Oscar went to prep the next cauldron while Ozpin put out the fire with a fire extinguisher. The embers would need to be dealt with - their value for future potions could not be overstated - but at least it was safe now. Especially with Qrow coming by some of these fires and a curse that could do anything, it was best to not have a proper bonfire going.
"I think we're ahead of schedule," Oscar said, pulling down his scarf enough to somehow get out the words given how cold it was getting with the setting sun.
Ozpin let out a long sigh, feeling exhausted already. "We should head in, warm up, and eat something while we can."
Ozpin had little more than crystalized water and flatbread, he didn't want any impurities for breaking the curse and had been observing a strict diet for the last week. Oscar was able to have a little more, but the most potent part of the brewing hours were coming and both of them knew they were now entering the stage where everything was time-sensitive.
"About an hour after sunset I'll begin," he said softly, putting his water bottle down. "You'll be in charge of finishing all the potions. Most important is-"
"Is the softening potion for Qrow, I know," Oscar said, clearing his plate and putting it in the sink for later washing. "In case this goes wrong he needs that stopgap."
"Good. I know I've said this before, but as I'm working on breaking the curse, no matter what happens…"
"Don't interfere," Oscar said, looking down and hunching forward. "If there's a backlash or a feedback, and Qrow's bad luck is funneling out, the safest way to be safe is to stay away."
Ozpin smiled, reaching out and touching his son's shoulder. "I know it's hard," he said softly. "I know it runs counter to every instinct you have. I know how big an ask that is for you. But I want you safe. Qrow wants you safe."
"Dad… I'm a little scared," Oscar confessed. "I mean, I've seen the circle, I know what herbs and crystals you're using. I know how careful you've been, but it's such a big curse to break and there's going to be so much magic shifting around. If anything goes wrong it's not just a headache or a fainting spell. This could be…"
"I know," Ozpin said, pulling his son into a hug. "I know."
An hour after sundown Ozpin started to slowly activate Qrow's spell circle. He took out paper and drew out the necessary sigils, burning them to activate them and burying the ashes in each node of the array. He checked each crystal to make sure it was not only activated but humming in harmony with all the others, tweaking the angle of one or the orientation of another to make everything as perfect as possible. He cycled his way slowly to the center of the circle, Qrow's place, where he had set up a chair to sit as the magic did its work.
Satisfied, he moved back to the edge of the circle and knelt down, placing his hands on one of the activation nodes and pushing his magic through the massive sigil. The entire space hummed, in perfect penta-tone harmony, and to Ozpin's eyes there was a soft, healthy glow to the circle. He hummed in satisfaction and straightened, pulling out his phone.
It's ready.
I'm coming.
Qrow left his car, apparently, and walked the entire way to the house. Ozpin saw him crest a small hill of the path, wearing the jacket Oscar had so carefully made. The Halloween air was charged with the magic of the evening, and the potions brewing behind the house made the air triply heady with the sensation. The tiredness of a full day's work was held back with all the energy, Ozpin was alert and hyper focused to what he was about to do, and it was because of that he saw Qrow's dark frown.
"What's wrong?" he asked as Qrow stopped several feet away from him, the rough boundary of how far his misfortune curse could affect people.
"The softening potion's spent," Qrow replied, voice slightly raised to carry. "I can feel it. Truck broke down three times just getting here, I hit every red light… I know what it looks like."
Ozpin hummed, stepping forward. His skin prickled to feel the effects of the curse as he entered its radius - something he had never experienced before, given that Qrow never dared come Halloween night. He could sense the curse, could see Qrow was right. He pulled out his bottle of crystal water and handed it over. "Drink this," he said. "Purify yourself even a little bit more. The minute you step into the circle things will start happening, and the sooner we can get you to the center without mishap the better."
His partner's look was sour to the point of fatalistic; but he took the water bottle and gulped it down in one long chug. "... should be spiked," he grumbled, handing the bottle back.
Ozpin put it on the ground. "Later," he said, gesturing. "See that chair? You'll be sitting there for several hours as the magic works. I've made a path for you to walk that will keep you the safest. See the small flags? Follow them. I'll be here at the activation center, working the counterspell."
"Oz… if this doesn't work…"
"It will work. Belief is half the battle with magic."
Qrow smiled and shook his head.
Ozpin offered up his own small prayer to all the magic around them. Please. He deserves to be free…. He watched Qrow enter the circle, glance around, and sit, pulling out a book since technology wouldn't be of any use in the circle and would indeed be a detriment. Ozpin went to the activation node of the array, and paused. He looked at it, studying it carefully, thinking of what Oscar had said. Nodding, he went back to the house long enough to grab his cane. He stepped into the circle, carefully completing pieces of it with his toes until he was where he needed to be. Once there, he reached forward with his cane and with three strokes, changed the sigil for protection to redirection. There were so many defensive sigils and runes that Ozpin left his trust in them. All that magic shifting around, that was what Oscar had said. Energy could neither be created or destroyed, and breaking a curse this big meant moving all that intent, all that energy. Redirection was going to be necessary, especially after what Oscar had said.
"Remember!" he called out to Qrow. "Don't move until we give you the all clear!"
Qrow gave a thumbs up. Then the chair under him broke.
Ozpin nodded to himself. He pulled out another leaf of paper and carefully scripted Qrow's name seven times. Each scrap was burned with the embers of a brewing fire and then placed at precise places along the activation node.
Closing his eyes, Ozpin reached out to the magic to just feel it. The sun was long set. They had until the first light of the sun on the first of November. If Ozpin's research and calculations were right, they'd be done close to four in the morning, with time to spare.
And spare time was what Ozpin needed to count on. Because something was probably going to go wrong.
He opened his eyes and observed the soft, unseen glow of the magic that had gathered, purified, and spiraled. With the scratch of a toe, the last line of the circle was completed and Ozpin sprinkled salts around him to offer more protection for himself. He stood still as the breeze picked up around the circle, cycling around the edges. His cane was at the precise center of his node of the circle, and he used that as a conduit, allowing for a greater sense of the magic he was watching, his feet rooted to the ground now with all that magic active.
After an hour, the breeze was a steady wind, and Ozpin guided the magic with small alterations of the sigils, providing direction and flow, building power and endurance. The second hour was more minute alterations, giving purpose and focus. The activation node of such a large array always required incredible precision in timing and altering of sigils as needed. It may not be his preferred method of magic, but Ozpin was a master, no matter the form. His own curse was dancing, letting him watch the magic in utter fascination, every undulation and swirl burning into his mind and sparking more theories and understanding of how it all worked, how to do something else based on extrapolations. If he wasn't careful, he'd get completely lost in the view of the magic.
But Qrow had suffered with this curse for a long time. The fascinating circulation of magic didn't matter to him in the slightest in the face of letting Qrow finally be free.
So when the third hour came, Ozpin did his next alterations of sigils, focusing on time and duration. He risked pulling out a flask of water to sip and it slipped out of his hands, almost landing on the necessary sigils. He caught it swiftly enough, but sighed. Qrow's curse, it seemed.
Parched, but willing to endure, Ozpin pocketed his water and went back to the activation node. He traced his cane around the innermost circle, letting it pull some of his own magic with his intention and prayer sent into the swirling mass of energy that was circulating around Qrow unseen.
Oscar was along the edge of Ozpin's senses, still bustling around for the last of the larger potions that needed the potency of late Halloween, and throwing worried glances from time to time. No doubt he could see the magic the same way Ozpin could, and the sheer amount of raw energy that had gathered and the chaotic spiking swirl of Qrow's curse in reaction to it.
Finally, after five hours of proper build up, Ozpin smiled.
Qrow was still in the remains of his chair, half asleep, and Oz couldn't quite hold back the chuckle. He had no doubt Qrow was about to wake up abruptly.
Ozpin placed his heel firmly in the center of the circle, and precisely put his cane to the exact point needed, and activated the release.
Unheard thunder rumbled over the fields, making Ozpin shudder and, out of the corner of his eye, Oscar startled. Qrow wouldn't have heard it, but he certainly felt something, as he was suddenly standing, looking around wildly as his graying hair started to stand on end.
Ozpin gave a thumbs up and concentrated.
It would take ten minutes to a half hour for the spell to be complete.
This was it.
There were no more alterations to sigils. No more altering flows. Ozpin had done everything he could. It was time to just let the magic go. He watched the beauty of it.
One of the first lessons any witch learned when studying spell circles was to never interfere once they were activated. Witchery was all about preparation. Gathering ingredients, setting up the circles, knowledge of crystals and a great deal of study. Once the magic was unleashed, it would go as intended and never alter it's path, the wild ferocity refusing to be tamed once untethered. Witches often focused on brews and potions and more traditional cauldrons, because the magic at stake was much less dangerous than a huge, complicated, time-sensitive spell circle. Or witches worked with crystals. Or witches worked with local spirits or entities. Or, or, or. Witches used spell circles and sigils for basic necessities, like what was usually needed in the local town. Occasionally a witch might study spell circles and use more complicated arrays, but always with heavy line of defenses.
Raw magic unleashed simply would not be controlled.
Ozpin's spell circle provided a path for all that raw energy and, left unhindered, it would have been the most beautiful bit of magic Ozpin had ever created.
But it was not unhindered.
Qrow's curse was indeed strong, and it fought against the counterspell. It undulated and spiked, trying to break through the raw, wild power that Ozpin had unleashed. And magic didn't like such interruptions.
As Oscar had said, there was feedback. Every time Qrow's curse pierced through the counterspell, a thread of magic was loosened or pulled out, there was more feedback. The feedback bled off and reversed along the flow of the circle, slowly building up.
With perhaps ten minutes left for the spell to finish, Ozpin could already glean several things.
First and foremost, he could breathe a sigh of relief. It would work. All the attempts of Qrow's curse couldn't stop the overwhelming power of what Ozpin had called forth. Qrow would finally be free.
Ozpin's eyes watered and he smiled brightly.
But that feedback was going to be unleashed. It wouldn't stop the counterspell, but it could hinder aspects of it, such as the length of time it would last (the rest of Qrow's life), or seal off the cure (complete and total with no way to unleash such bad luck), or the strength (completely ironclad and unbreakable). Any method of interfering meant that Qrow's curse might retrigger.
Ozpin wouldn't allow that.
Qrow had suffered for almost his entire life under this curse. He had lost friends, family, loved ones, hope, all because some witch had hated him in some incomprehensible way. Ozpin had watched Qrow blossom with happiness once he had the softening solution, watched Qrow pull his life together and start to find meaning in everything again. He had watched Qrow come alive and fly. And he loved Qrow too much to let him suffer through that again.
Ozpin grit his teeth, knowing this wouldn't be pleasant. He dug his heel deeper into the center of his node, and tapped at the sigil that he'd rewritten from protection to redirection.
After all.
Ozpin himself was pure magic cursed to be contained in human form.
Raw, wild, powerful magic couldn't truly kill him.
Because nothing could kill magic.
He raised his cane to the sky and let himself open up in a way he hadn't for almost two centuries.
He heard Oscar from across the field. "Dad! No!"
He saw Qrow realize something was wrong. "Oz!"
And he reached out. A few moments, please. We're almost done.
The magic surged up through his heel, channeled through him, up his cane, and exploded out in a visible storm of color, right up to the sky, dispersing in the air like some sort of reverse lightning strike.
But Ozpin had forgotten.
He had entered the active area of Qrow's curse and felt it tingle along his skin for the first time.
He'd never purified that from himself.
And what would have been completely and utterly painless for him as a being of pure magic was now felt through his very human body.
Ozpin screamed at the unexpected pain. He froze, feeling every ounce of magic surge from the circle, through the ground, up his heel and leg, out his arm and cane, and the powerful beam of colors to the sky, branching out to redisperse into the area, redistributing along the fields and forests, recombining with the natural magic that had been coaxed and fed by Ozpin over the decades. He fought to be in the moment, feel the pain, and not get pulled away into that fascinating flow of magic, even as his leg burned in agony, his scream ongoing.
"Ozpin!"
"Qrow no! You'll break the circle and make it worse!"
"Oz!"
"Wait for the all clear!"
"Kid, I can't-"
"Don't make it worse for him with more feedback!"
Ozpin cut off his scream. He would not worry those he held most dear. He would not let this curse win. Gasping through the pain, feeling like his leg was being split apart and rejoined over and over as lightning and magic sizzled along his nerves, Ozpin blinked, realizing that tears were streaming down his face. He choked down another breath, and looked with his eyes and senses.
Three more minutes and the spell would be done. Already, the feedback was lessening as it was properly drained off. Qrow's curse was weakening as it was more and more contained, cut off and woven down to the prison Ozpin had designed.
Two more minutes and the wind started to lessen. There was no more color shooting off into the sky. Just crackles of magic and energy around him.
One more minute and Ozpin felt the stiffness give way. He collapsed, raw and in agony.
"Oz!"
"Wait!" he called back, his voice cracking and throat raw from his screaming.
"Dad!"
The spell was done. Ozpin waited another minute to make sure, watching with intense eyes that were glowing gold, watching as his counterspell settled around Qrow's shoulders like a cape.
"It worked…"
He passed out.
He woke in the comfort of his bed, buried in blankets, aromatic herbs hanging from his headboard, soft pillows, and utterly unable to move. He cracked open his eyes, saw sunlight streaming in at an angle that said midmorning. His body was heavy like it had been when he was first constructed, and he didn't completely understand what had caused the setback.
He tried to shift but nothing could move, he had forgotten how to use muscles and nerves, and exhaustion took him back under.
Later, he could not say how long; he awoke again. Still heavy, still confused, but someone was there with him. He could hear soft breathing, the shift of clothes. Warm. He felt warm, and realizing he felt something made him open his eyes again.
Qrow was there, sitting at the edge of the bed, and one hand was stroking Ozpin's ankle under all the blankets. More was starting to come back to him, and he finally remembered how to move his body. He tried to shift, hoping to sit up, and he went from numb to sharp spikes of pain all the way down his leg, and he hummed, unable to make a more appropriate noise.
"Oz?"
Qrow's hand left his ankle, and for a moment Ozpin forgot how to see, too many sensations were roaring in his ears and down his nerves and especially along his leg. A cool hand touched his forehead, centering him, and he finally understood that he was looking at Qrow. Un-cursed Qrow. He smiled as the pain faded, and with it went his consciousness.
Two hundred years ago, he had been constructed from magic to replace a lost loved one. New to a body, new to consciousness, new to being human, Ozpin had been forced to learn a myriad of things in a compressed amount of time. The witch who had created him explained it all, that he was her beloved reborn, given new life so that they could live happily. "Happy" was a foreign word for Ozpin, still learning things like muscles and kinetic energy and the sensation of a heartbeat. He learned, much later, that nothing that happened in those beginning days were "happy." More accurate words were abuse, misery, torture to learn what having a body was like.
Eventually he had freed himself from the witch, but not before he had been cursed to stay human for eternity.
Eventually, he had learned there were other parts to humanity. Parts that were "happy." He enjoyed those parts. He learned there were things that he liked, things that he didn't; he learned that people were as wide and varied as the magic of the world, and once he understood that he thought he might like being human. It gave him experiences like he had never known, and now he had a consciousness to perceive them, understand them, learn from them. He loved watching people grow, he loved watching people learn to be better, to overcome life much like his first five decades and go beyond that pain. He collected people who grew in such a way, called them family.
And as he lived beyond them, he took the pain of their loss and celebrated what they had lived. In time, new people came to his life, and the cycle started again, always a little different, always a little more, always so beautiful.
Oscar was one of his people: from a horrific place and now growing and flourishing. Qrow was one of his people, but his curse prevented him from fully leaving that pain behind. He could not reach his full potential, his full growth, with the constant setbacks of his bad luck. And Ozpin, knowing full well how painful that could be, knowing how devastating it was when that witch wandered back into his life... Ozpin wanted to help.
He awoke to morning light again, and this time he had much more of his faculties. He remembered how to move his body, and he was better prepared for the pain of moving as he sat himself up. Every nerve was raw, his limbs were shaky, and something was very, very wrong with his leg. Leaving the confines of his blankets left him chilly, and he could sense his voice would be haphazard at best. He reached for his cane and tapped lightly on the floor, wondering if anyone was home.
Qrow and Oscar appeared almost instantaneously, Qrow leaning in and kissing him full on the lips, needy enough that Ozpin knocked his head on the headboard. "Sorry!" Qrow muttered, pulling away, sitting on the edge of the bed. Oscar took his turn to lean in, holding a light up into Ozpin's eyes to check his pupil dilation and pressing a hand to his forehead to check for fever.
"You had us so worried!" he said in a huff, pulling over a chair to sit. "What happened?"
"... I didn't expect the magic to hurt," Ozpin said, and he was surprised to hear how hoarse his voice was. He coughed to clear his throat, and a glass of water was pressed into his hand. He drank greedily.
"What the hell did you expect was going to happen?" Qrow demanded, sour. "I'm a dipshit idiot with this kind of stuff and even I could tell how much energy was in the air and you went and used yourself like a goddamn lightning rod."
Ozpin shook his head. "It wasn't supposed to hurt," he said. "Magic could never hurt me." Then he remembered the tingling, entering the radius of Qrow's curse and never purifying himself afterward. Oh… He looked down, realized one leg felt different than the other. "... have I been hurt?" he asked.
"... Yes," Oscar replied, hand reaching out to touch the ankle Qrow had been rubbing earlier. Ozpin frowned, lifting up the blanket, and Qrow shifted, getting up to reveal the damage. One leg was wrapped in herb soaked linen and then a plaster cast. His foot was purple and red, veins pulsing and with the curious sensation of heat emanating from it. Inflammation, swelling, and the base of his heel Ozpin could sense… something.
"You dug your heel into the redirection array," Oscar said, "You have what looks like electricity burns, I found an old nail in the grass, right where you were standing, and it probably acted as a conduit as you were redirecting the energy."
"My bad luck," Qrow said, voice low. "That means the curse didn't break."
Ozpin reached over, grabbed his spelled glasses to examine his partner. "No," he corrected. "Your curse has most assuredly been broken. Do you not feel it?"
"What I feel is goddamn regret, Oz. You promised me over and over that you'd be fine."
"And I am," Ozpin said, not confused, exactly, just… detached. "I am here, you are here, the curse is broken. It has worked exactly as we wanted."
"Oh, Oz," Oscar said, shaking his head. "We didn't want you hurt."
"Oh. That." Ozpin shrugged. "We all knew I wouldn't die. I can't. I'm not really human. Pain is temporary. Wounds scar, bones heal, growth continues. I can't say I enjoyed that feedback, or that I'd ever choose to place myself in such a position again, but…" He reached up, hands shaking, and cupped Qrow's face and Oscar's face. "Such pain is bearable because I have both of you for however long you'll have me."
Qrow snorted, leaning in to touch his forehead to Ozpin's. "We're in for the long haul, Oz," he said, "You should know that." Oscar nodded, leaning in and snaking his arms around Ozpin.
Fully one quarter of the potions still outside during the counterspell had soured from all the curse energy as it dispersed that night, making a bumper year slightly lean. Ozpin had to learn to walk all over again, and the damage to his leg left him with a distinct limp on rainy days and stormy weather. The scars snaked up his leg and were equal parts fascinating and horrifying to look at.
He worried about next year and how much potion-making he could do with a bad leg.
But the next year Qrow was living with them, heartily following directions and prepping cauldrons and listening to Oscar instruct him on the proper order of things. The next year the people he had collected told him they had collected him as well.
The next year was the best year Ozpin had ever experienced.
End
Author's Note: Nothing much to say. Just an image in mind of Ozpin and Oscar over a cauldron brewing that spiraled out into this. Perfect for the Halloween season. Happy Halloween everyone!