Chapter 407: 3
Chapter 3: School Days
Storm continued shooting glances at Harry for the rest of the flight to the States. After his glamour charm had fallen away, both mutants seemed to think of Harry in a very different way, Storm most of all. She had taken one look at his thin face, large green eyes and thin limbs before turning away and in a husky voice telling Wolverine to fetch him a blanket from one of the overhead bins. Before Harry could complain he had been bundled into a blanket, leaving only his confused face sticking out.
"I had thought..." Storm shook her head. She busied herself flying the plane, not wanting to embarrass the poor boy.
"So you're a kid," had been Wolverine's response. He didn't seem nearly as upset as Storm.
Harry had sneered at that comment, "I'm sixteen."
"Like I said, you're a kid."
"Bugger off," Harry complained absently. He wasn't about to tell them that he hadn't been a kid for a long time. Adults never understood that, and arguing would just look like whinging. Instead he leaned back into his chair, closing his eyes. He wasn't really sleeping, just letting his body rest after the mad dash from the facility to the jet. While this last week had repaired some of the damage of his imprisonment, Harry hadn't been able to do much exercising in his small room. He still hadn't built up the muscle that he had lost.
The jet was quiet for a moment. Storm subtly glanced back again, her white hair tickling her nose as she peered at the young man now seemingly asleep. She quickly turned back to watching the sky, the jet easily sliding past the clouds as it raced home. Home to Xavier's school. The only place that was safe. She felt a burning ball of anger settle in her stomach when she thought about what had been done to Harry. The boy looked half starved. How could people be so cruel? Storm knew this anger and this fear. It had been a part of her ever since she had discovered her own mutation. Normally she managed to keep it quietly contained. But sometimes, when cruel things were done, especially to children, it seemed to bring the old anger back. Moments like this she forced herself to remember the professor's calm voice, his steady hands as he let her cry out her anguish. She let his voice run through her mind, whispering the reasons, the excuses, the words of forgiveness. He held her and the other X-men to a higher standard. And she didn't want to let him down.
Still, how could people do this?
"How much longer?"Wolverine asked at her side.
"Just an hour or so," She replied.
The two were quiet for a moment, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. Perhaps that was the reason the Professor had allowed Wolverine and Storm to make this trip together. Usually Storm and Cyclops were responsible for missions. But Xavier seemed convinced that Wolverine would be an asset to the team, and had hastened for an excuse to keep him around after the Liberty Island incident. A simple scouting expedition to England seemed like a good distraction. Of course, Wolverine wasn't one to follow the rules. Storm didn't regret that now, flying back home with the skeletal Harry Potter she felt glad that Wolverine had seen his opportunity and taken it.
"Bet you wish you'd have let me shish kebab a few of those guards now," commented Wolverine,.
"That isn't our way. We got Harry out, that is all that matters," Storm's voice was a little quieter than her regular tone, but the conviction was still evident.
"Yeah sure." Wolverine looked down at the boy. He watched him for a moment, noticing the steady rise and fall of his chest. Turning back to Storm he moved closer and spoke in an undertone. "Do you think his mutation is quite right?"
"What do you mean?" she asked just as quietly.
"He can heal, sure, so can I. But the shifting the way he looks thing. How are those two connected?"
Storm was silent for a moment. "They're probably connected in some form. It isn't terribly unusual for a single mutation to look like more than one, it all depends on how it affects the body. The Professor will probably have an idea."
Wolverine shrugged in his seat. "Quite a surprise though, isn't the kid, I thought we'd be adding another X-man to your team."
"It's your team too," added Storm.
Wolverine ignored this comment. He also leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Just a little off is all," he said more quietly still.
Storm paid him no mind and soon Wolerin settled into sleep. She concentrated on returning the two sleeping mutants to New York. She had no way of knowing that only one man had given into sleep. Harry's ears absorbed the new information coming his way, trying to decipher what a mutant should be from the pair's conversation. He'd need to be careful now that he was among his 'fellow mutants'. Still, it couldn't be that hard. Just stick to what they had already seen and ixnay the magic for bit. The word 'X-men' had tugged at his curiosity as well.
The X-jet settled back into its hanger beneath the basketball court. In Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, a few students had paused in their work to admire the sleek jet smoothly disappear from sight. Glances were shared by all, each young mutant wondering what sort of adventure the X-men had been getting into today.
"Come on, back to work" Scott, lectured from the front of the room. He was also curious about what the Professor had asked Storm and Wolverine to do, but he couldn't let the students slack off. Still as he gazed around the room, abuzz with teenage whispers, he shook his head. It was the last class on Friday, and had been difficult enough keeping their minds focused on the assignment. Now it would be impossible.
"Alright, why don't we end class a little early today," relented Scott. There was a distinct pause for a moment while everyone tried to determine if their teacher was serious. Cyclops, as Scott was called, had a reputation as a rule abiding teacher. The red sunglasses he wore, which served to contain his laser vision, made judging his expression difficult at times. Still the pause didn't last for long as one student, Pyro, leaped into the air with a whoop. The others quickly followed his example, swiftly packing up their bags before their teacher changed his mind.
Scott was in an equal hurry to leave. He managed to control himself until the last student left before standing up and quick stepping to the Professor's office. He certainly hoped that the errand the Professor had asked Wolverine to run had been important. Prior to the Professor's request, the Canadian mutant had been contemplating leaving, which Scott thought would be a good idea, one that would once again restore the school to its semblance of order. It was no secret that Scott didn't like Wolverine's brash ways, or the man's blatant overtures to Scott's girlfriend Jean.
Harry rode in a somewhat impressive looking lift, leaving the lower levels behind. He had been interested by the area downstairs. Very sleek, like the Jet, stainless steel seemed to be something of a design constant. It looked clean at least, if perhaps a little cold.
When the lift doors opened Harry's eyes widened slightly at the change in decoration. The main level of the mansion seemed much nicer. The walls were a mixture of elegant wood paneling and cream walls, the floors were made of a honey colored wood, various rugs scattered here and there. Paintings lined the walls and furniture seemed to be settled anywhere there was space. Large overstuffed chairs tucked into a corner, a sofa skirting a wall. While everything looked nice and expensive, the place had a lived in feel to it. There were a few scuffs on the floor here and there, one well lacquered table was covered in paper airplanes. Someone had left a televison on somewhere, emitting random bursts of noise. Harry smiled. It was the type of place he liked, filled with life. He'd forgotten how relaxing something as silly as having pictures on the wall could be. He'd been in cold, empty places for a long time.
Harry continued following Storm as she steered him from one corridor to another. Soon other noises joined them. A stampede of footsteps and voices filling the halls. Class seemed to have let out as quite a few teenagers, bags slung across backs and shoulders, emerged from wooden doors. They smiled easily, chatting together. Most paused for a moment as Storm, Wolverine and Harry passed. They eyed Harry with a little interest, but their gazes weren't overtly malicious or curious. They seemed to take his haggard appearance and odd dress as a matter of course.
In fact, Harry found himself more interested in them than they were in him. So these were mutants. Most of them seemed pretty normal looking. He looked among the small crowd curiously. Perhaps a few people stood out a bit. One thin girl had a vivid green head of hair, another boy must have stood over seven feet tall.
"Stop it Max!" Harry heard one girl complain. She was glaring daggers at a boy with gold eyes. The boy smirked, snapped his fingers and the girl's hair stood on end as if she'd stuck a fork in an electrical outlet.
"Hey!" Max complained when the girl retaliated, drenching him in water from head to toe. He took a step towards her, his hands raised, electricity crackling between his fingertips. A gust of wind separated the two, causing the pictures on the wall to wobble somewhat.
"Max, Ariel, what have we said about fighting in the corridors," Storm admonished. The pair stared at the floor and mumbled under their breath, each blaming the other. Storm rolled her eyes. "I know it's difficult but you're really better off getting along. There are enough problems for mutants in this world without us attacking each other. Now if I see you acting this outrageously again you'll be cleaning the cafeteria for a week."
Apparently this was a significant fear, as both teens looked slightly panicked before nodding vigorously and going on their way.
Storm continued leading the way, Wolverine chuckling darkly. Harry thought Storm must make a great teacher. He'd hate to imagine what Snape would have done if Harry had been caught using magic in the corridors. Although, Harry smiled, a detention with the beautiful white haired mutant might not be a bad thing.
Finally the pair reached a rather prominent looking door. A small metal plaque claimed that it the office of Professor Charles Xavier: Headmaster.
"Good Lord, what is he doing here?" a woman's voice demanded just as Storm was about to open the door. Harry turned to see a proper looking woman with long red hair. She approached them, her heels clicking in the floor as she walked. An expression of concern seemed to control her features, brushing past Wolverine and Storm she stationed herself in front of Harry. Harry could only watch somewhat amused as the woman laid her hand against his forehead and with the other began expertly feeling for his pulse.
"Jean, we were just bringing Harry to meet the Professor. He was being kept by the English military. Harry this is Jean Grey, she's another teacher here, she is also a doctor." Storm explained.
"Well you could have radioed in that he'd need medical attention," the red haired woman argued. She seemed somewhat appeased by whatever information she had received by checking his vitals and now was only looking at him with observant eyes.
"I assure you I'm quite fine, ma'am," Harry responded. While his statement had meant to relieve her, she seemed to be looking at him harder than ever.
"Well come along, I'll be the judge of that," dictated the woman. She placed a guiding hand on his shoulder and began to lead him away. Harry found he could only nod reluctantly as she guided him back down the hall. Drat, he thought to himself, another school nurse. This one was probably worse than Madam Pormfry, who knew what muggle medicines she'd subject him to. Harry managed to catch Wolverine's eye as he was lead away, the gruff mutant had only grinned sympathetically.
Harry was left with only one conclusion, he was done for.
Once Harry had been shuffled away by Jean, Storm and Wolverine entered the Professor's office. Wolverine lingering in the hallway a little longer than necessary to watch the slender redhead walk away. There were no students inside Charles's office, which was unusual as the professor often taught the advanced classes in there. The only other person in the room was Scott, who was seated in a chair. Both of the men turned when the pair entered, it seemed they had been expected.
"How did it go?" asked the Professor from behind concerned eyes.
Storm nodded. "We found the complex well enough, sadly by the size of it the place isn't their main facility. Um, Logan decided that we could handle it on our own." Cyclops spluttered at this comment, but Storm continued on ignoring him. "Also there was only one mutant inside. We actually ran into him while he was escaping."
Both Scott and the Professor turned to each other. "Escaping, on his own? That's impressive. Did he choose to come with you or remain in England?"
"He was kidnaped," Storm said through amused eyes. The Professor smiled softly but Scott stood up. His mind obviously already planning a rescue attempt, the laser eyed mutant had been very disappointed not to have been able to come along on the previous mission.
"By who? How?" he demanded.
"Just now, outside the Professor's door." Storm continued to tease her fellow X-man.
"What?" Scott's expression was priceless. All the previous determination that made him a great leader seemed to sag out of his body. Storm decided to let him out of his misery.
"Jean took him to the Medical Area. You know how she is about new ones brought in." Scott stood still for a moment glaring at Storm, if the young woman had to guess, he had rolled his eyes before sitting down again.
"So he's a young man," the Professor commented, knowing that while Jean cared for all human life, she was only extremely possessive when it came to the health of people she considered students. Even if they weren't technically students yet.
"Just a kid," Wolverine added.
"And his mutation?" The Professor asked.
The pair shared glances. Their minds easily supplied the reason for the confusion.
"Ah," the professor commented thoughtfully, "He seems to have some sort of control over his physiology. He can heal and change shape. An interesting mutation indeed. I wonder if he has any control over his strength and flexibility as well?"
"He must have some interesting tricks, to get out alone" Wolverine muttered, "That place was a fortress."
"I thought you said it was a small facility, Why would you just charge in–"
"We handled it," grunted Wolverine.
Cyclops was ready to argue so the Professor quickly interfered. "Ah, and there weren't any signs of other mutants?"The older man crossed his fingers and frowned for a moment.
"That, I'm afraid, is rather bad news." Raising a hand to his temple, the telepath continued, "In the last week, twenty or so mutants whom I have been in contact with have disappeared. I haven't been able to even find them using Cerebro. One was Thomas Winter. He was leader of one of the safe compounds created in the north, Scotland I believe, and was in the plans for building a school for mutants similar to this one. A closer safe haven for European mutants. I offered my services to help him locate these young mutants before their governments discovered them." The Professor paused. The others in the room shifted uncomfortably. It wasn't often that Cerebro couldn't find someone, unless they were already dead. "Sadly, he and his associates seem to have vanished."
Thomas Winter, otherwise known as Telltale, was a very powerful mutant and could control people by his voice. He was also very like the Professor in his high opinion of human life. If Thomas Winter was indeed dead, it would mean a terrible situation for Mutants throughout Europe.
"Could this boy know anything?" Scott asked, he leaned back in his chair and pursed his lips as he spoke. Xavier felt a renewed lift of hope in the room. He himself allowed a slow smile to spread across his face. If his people had not given up hope, then neither would he.
"Scott if you would try to pry Harry from Jean, perhaps-"
"I'll do it," Wolverine volunteered. He crossed to the door, shooting a cocky grin at the younger man in the room. Scott muttered to himself, something vague about whether Wolverine's regenerating capabilities could withstand lasers.
previously
Jean tossed her head as she spoke,"I don't know what they were thinking. Wolverine always forgets about normal health problems people can have, seems to think his own invulnerability extends to everyone else." She continued muttering on this rant for a moment and Harry realized this was a different path than they had taken before.
"Where are we going?" Harry managed to inquire.
"Medical room," Jean said simply. She noted Harry's confusion.
"I suppose Storm took you on a different route. She usually likes to let new students see the school a bit. This way is quicker."
Indeed it was, in moments Jean had him downstairs and sitting on a metal examination table. Far too quick indeed.
"Take your shirt of," she stated while looking in a cabinet. Harry turned to her. She didn't expect him to strip did she? He had definitely grown used Madam Pomfry's wand waving method. Jean turned and seemed to note his hesitation.
"There isn't anything I haven't seen, just the shirt," She waved her hands, a playful smile on her lips.
Harry bit his teeth into an awkward grin, and quickly lifted his shirt over his head to hide it. The room felt colder without the warmth his gray, military issue garment had provided. He hunched forward trying to stay warm.
Without his noticing, Jean's lips narrowed as she took in the damage on his body. There were quite a few scars. More than she'd seen on any teenagers previously. Sadly abuse, in many shapes and forms, had been dealt upon the students of Xavier's schools. She'd grown accomplished at mending wounds without further embarrassing the students who bore them. She'd admit Harry was a bad case.
The scars littered his body, some old, most were newer. She deftly ignored these, not making any comment, attaching a few sensors along his body to more accurately read his vital signs. She frowned as he fingers brushed against his skin. In addition to the scar tissue, the young man was unhealthy thin, his ribs protruding slightly.
"Open," she directed. Placing a thermometer under his tongue for only a moment. She smiled to see that his temperature was normal. "Follow me."
Harry nodded. Jean lead Harry to a scale. She frowned when she saw how much he weighed. His height she guesstimated to be over five feet three inches, or 1.6 meters. Still his weight was well under what it should be.
"How long have they been starving you?" she asked. Her tone tried to be clinical, making it as impersonal as possible. Still, she thought some of her concern must have leeched into her words. The boy shook his head, smiling for her benefit.
"They didn't. Actually it was pretty nice there. Three meals a day."
Jean bit her tongue as she tried to challenge what must have been an obvious lie. The kids who came to this school were often damaged. But the Professor had pulled them all from the brink. He could help Harry too. So she merely nodded curtly. She turned him to the side and frowned again.
"That's a nasty cut," she said, wondering why she hadn't noticed the fresh slice before.
"Oh," Harry looked down at his arm. "I forgot about that, got it when we were breaking through the fence. Wolverine's claws certainly are sharp," commented Harry, remembering the way the mutant had sliced through the fence surrounding the facility.
Jean was about to get some gauze or bandages when to her surprise the wound healed before her eyes.
"How...?"
"I can heal myself," Harry explained. Jean blinked. She'd never seen a regeneration mutation that needed to be called into service. One would think, as with Wolverine, the healing would be instantaneous. She bit her tongue again. Finally she stepped back and met his eyes. Harry seemed to know that she was going to deliver her prognosis. He smiled reassuringly at her. What she couldn't have known was that the smile was an attempt to convince her that he didn't need to stay the night in this muggle hospital wing, something Madam Pomfrey would surely have recommended.
"I want you to eat some of these Carbo Bars over the next few days. And when I say some, I mean lots. As much as you feel you can safely. Preferably two or three between meals. They are high in rich calories, and will help you build up your weight quicker. Make sure to eat plenty during meal times, and drink lots of fluids." Jean waved her hand and a cupboard opened, a small cardboard box flying into her hand. Harry looked at the box and noticed that it was filled with some sort of food bar wrapped in silver packaging.
"That's neat," Harry said staring as the cupboard door closed with a thought. Harry thought Jean was quite sharp for a doctor, and she hadn't mentioned bed rest yet, which Harry was feeling excited about that.
She smiled at his obvious interest. "I'm telepathic and telekentic," she stated.
"Does that mean you can read minds?" Harry asked. He had stilled somewhat and was watching her closely. He didn't look concerned, but she had the feeling that he was.
"Sort of, not very well though. Maybe someday I'll be able to be as good as the Professor...but right now it's rather jumbled."
"Oh." Harry paused. "So, what's this Professor like?"
Jean smiled warmly. She was well aware of the general feeling of nervousness that most students had when coming here. Most had been kicked out by their families, or afraid of what their families would think, had run away. It was only reasonable for these children to fear rejection, so she did her best to put his mind at ease.
"He's nice. He founded this school as a safe place for people like us. He's taken in every mutant who has ever needed a home. He really just wants to help you. We work to help you control your mutation, but you also get a regular education, and help you to blend in with the world outside." Jean patted the young man's shoulder comfortingly.
"Oh." Harry was silent as Jean continued to bustle around the medical room. Harry still thought she seemed rather young to be a doctor, but she had been really nice too. This Professor didn't sound like a bad guy either. He just wanted to help kids who didn't have anywhere else to go. Harry knew it was wrong to worried about meeting him, but any mindreader made him nervous. What if his occulemancy didn't keep out this Professor's mutation? It guarded against magical intrusion after all. Still, he doubted that such a kind man would kick him out, even if he wasn't a mutant per se. He was surprised to note how much he wanted to stay. Satisfying curiosity was one thing, but Harry found he didn't want to leave. Not yet. Oh sure, part of it was pure curiosity, but he also liked what he had seen of the mansion. Warm, friendly, a little odd perhaps. Following after Storm he had felt reminded of Hogwarts, in those early years. It had been so long since he had been anywhere as nice.
Also, Harry hadn't missed the covert looks of pity being displayed by Storm and Jean. It wouldn't do to meet his parents looking like some sort of pitiable whelp. Also, Harry thought with a scowl, if Voldemort were causing mischief he'd want to be top form. He didn't want to fight his war again, but if he had to, he was going to win.
"I see she got your shirt off," grunted a voice from the door. Harry turned with a grin, spotting the somewhat truculent mutant.
"Logan!" Jean said, some surprise in her calm voice. She hurriedly busied herself with removing the small suction things that had been attached to his body. Harry had no idea what they were, they might be new to this world, or they might just be standard muggle medicine. He hadn't been to a muggle doctor since...the Dursely's weren't keen on doctor bills so it had been a long time.
Jean had expertly regained her composure and raised an eyebrow at the mutant, taking in his own torn uniform. "I see you managed to get some of your own shirt off."
"Only for you," he responded with a casual grin. Jean turned away and Harry had the feeling she was very much trying to avoid the other mutant.
"Logan?" Harry inquired.
"That's Wolverine to you kid," the man said with a toothy grin. Harry chuckled.
"Am I going to have to come up with a dorky nickname too," Harry asked.
"Only if you're lucky bub, if you aren't lucky I'll pick one for you." Harry gave a pretend horrified look while Wolverine raised his eyebrows threateningly.
"What are you doing down here," Jean asked with some exasperation in her tone.
"Professor wants to see the kid, if you say so," Wolverine added the last bit quickly, hoping to appease the fiery doctor.
"I suppose so. I want to see you eating those bars I gave you, and if I don't see much improvement you'll be getting a bunch of vitamin capsules to take as well" warned Jean. Harry shrugged. Before he knew it, a Carbo bar had been levitated into his mouth. Harry faced the doctor and sputtered.
Removing the bar he turned to her, "You could have taken off the wrapper first."
"Eat," she instructed him. As he rose to his feet, Jean handed him his shirt and Harry hastily threw it back on.
The three mutants returned to the Professor's office. Harry eating a Carbo bar as they went. He hadn't been hungry, but Jean insisted. Harry hadn't exactly fought her, he himself wanted to build up his body again, but Jean seemed used to fighting with struggling students, so he let her have her way.
Harry was also thinking while they walked, using this moment of silence to rehearse the story he had thought up on the flight over. It was a good story, or so Harry thought, and an interesting blend of the truth and fiction. As the best lies always were. It should explain his current condition, his lack of belongings, and perhaps even some of his confusion in this world.
Before they opened the door, Harry felt an old concern return. Voldemort had really caused him to distrust anyone with telepathic abilities. Yet he managed to quickly squash his feelings, reminding himself that these were good people. The door open, Harry peered inside curious as to what he'd see.
First he spotted Storm, she was seated in a chair, her legs crossed, still wearing the same tight leather ensemble from earlier. Harry politely turned away after only a casual glance, feeling quite proud of his restraint. Another young man, strange red sunglasses on his nose. He seemed somewhat impassive. Finally Harry got to the last occupant of the room. While Harry had been growing used to this new world, nothing had prepared him for this.
On some level, Harry had expected to see an Albus Dumbledore character staring back at him. Through his years a Hogwarts, the long white beard, tall slender build, and robes vibrant enough to stop a muggle bus had become symbolic of authority and power. An odd symbol, but hey you go with what you know. Hence Harry couldn't help but be surprised by the very different figure that was presented in Professor Charles Xavier. The man was completely bald, his face clean-shaven, his clothes a boring suit and tie that even the Durselys would have approved of. It was utterly bizarre. Finally Harry mustered his courage and met the older mutant's face which was softly lined with wrinkles, Harry spotted warm blue eyes.
However it seemed that the man did share one thing in common with Harry's former esteemed Headmaster. Harry tried not to cringe when he felt a mental probe scuttle across his Occulemancy shield. The ability at work had a different, more natural feel than that of Legillamancy. If Legillamancy were a stick, poking at a mind, than whatever the professor was doing was like a spider moving agilely across the surface. Harry noted with some interest, and much relief, that whatever sort of mutant magic the Professor was using Occulamancy managed to block, for now. Sensing the deep well of power contained in the man seated before him, Harry doubted that he could stop any serious attempt.
"Please take a seat, Harry?" The Professor said warmly. They both pretended to ignore the mental event which had occurred.
Harry nodded."Harry Potter," he greeted.
"Please, call me Professor Xavier, or merely Professor as so many do. Well, Storm has told me that you would like to finish your education."
"Umm, yeah, I guess." Harry said scratching his face absently.
"What grade were you in last?" Harry turned as the young man with sunglasses addressed him. The glasses completely blocked the man's eyes and were of a strange red color. He was curious what mutation would need this. However the man didn't seem offended by Harry's curious gaze and smiled back. Everyone in this room was used to the curiosity of the new mutants. Depending on where a person was from, it was possible that they had never met another of their kind before. Also most mutants were forced to adopt the skill of secrecy, it was sometimes difficult to know a person was a mutant even if you met one.
"Umm...its been awhile," conceded Harry, thinking back to his last muggle class when he was ten.
"Not to worry Harry, many mutants were out of school for some time before finding their way here." The Professor continued watching the self-contained young man with some interest.
"I guess, fifth year," Harry said with a shrug. He wasn't particularly embarrassed about it.
Silent glances were exchanged. "Not to worry," the Professor repeated calmly, Harry was starting to wonder if it was the man's favorite phrase. "Perhaps we'll schedule some assessment tests to judge whether it would be best for you to join your peers or have more private tutoring."
"Thanks professor," Harry said warmly. He really wasn't intending on being here for that long, but the offer was very nice.
"Not at all." The professor paused for a moment, "Harry, I did ask you here to discuss something other than your classes. I understand you were being held by the British military. We managed to learn about your trial a few days ago and began trying to trail where you might have been taken. I am sorry it took so long to help you," Charles bowed his head and looked into his palms for a moment. Harry could sense the great burden this man must have, the old man actually felt responsible for all the mutants in this world. That seemed quite ridiculous to Harry and he decided to try and put the man at ease.
"Don't concern yourself sir, I only stayed so long because it was rather nice there," Harry's honest reply was meant to relieve the old mutant of his guilt, but instead seemed to spark his curiosity.
"You stayed on purpose?" The professor's words were met with confused glances among the other mutants in the room.
"Well, uh yeah," Harry said somewhat uneasily, he'd realized that perhaps that wasn't a normal thing people would say. But then his idea of normal was terribly askew at this point, it was difficult to judge. Again he wondered if he'd gone a little off his nut. He tried to joke the situation off,
"You know, three meals a day, could be worse." Smile. Harry hoped the performance was somewhat acceptable.
"I'm glad you're alright Harry." The Professor paused and tilted his head. "I was wondering, however, if you might have had any word about other mutants when you were there. Sadly, many mutants from the UK have disappeared in the days leading up to Mutant Act passing, as well as in the days after. London seems to still be providing the pretense of a trial, sadly other places have not even observed this right." The Professor's voice seemed to grow more weary as he spoke.
"I did hear about another facility up north," Harry provided. Xavier's eyes flashed upward. "They didn't send me there right away because of...medical reason... but I think that is where they were taking the others. One of the doctors was new...the day I broke out, he said I'd be the last."
"Did you hear where in the North?" The Professor asked.
Harry shook his head. "Just North."
"Well thank you Harry, that will be some help. If you remember anything else I'd appreciate if you'd tell me." The Professor's eyes were very kind, Harry decided. Harry nodded his head and yawned.
"Understandably tired, eh?" The Professor asked.
Harry cringed before nodding. The run from the facility, plus the time difference between London and New York were wearing down on the young wizard.
"I think we have a spare bed open in John and Bobby's room, I'm sure they'll be happy to share. The dormitories are just one floor up," The Professor directed.
"I'll show ya," decided Wolverine.
"He should eat, Professor," urged Jean. She was standing near the headmaster's desk with a rather firm look on her face. Harry held up the box of carbo bars to tell her he still had them. "A proper dinner," she added seeing the bars.
"Well Bobby and John can show Harry to the cafeteria in a bit, then off to bed."
Harry nodded in agreement, he found he was easy to agree considering how well things had gone. He'd been prepared to be denounced "normal" and perhaps removed from this rather nice school. Instead he'd been given a room and a meal was imminent. He hadn't even had to use the history he had made up, which he was almost a little disappointed at. After all that work, would it have killed them to ask about his past...on second thought maybe it was better they hadn't asked. Harry was slowly putting the pieces of this world together, including learning more about the mutants and their involvement here. He'd already come to the conclusion that the doctors in that military facility hadn't known much about mutants at all. They had seen mutants as nothing more than curiosities, genetic mutations. Harry was learning there was a great deal of very human emotion connected and bundled to these people. He'd certainly enjoy recuperating here.
Wolverine steered Harry from the office and up a flight of wide stairs. As they climbed Harry noted more of the casual evidence of living as he had seen on the floors below. A football lay in the middle of one hallway, little odds and ends like pencils and scrap pieces of paper with old notes cluttered the floor, shoved along walls and into corners. Rather loud music, some punk rock chant, poured from behind one closed door. Other doors were opened and Harry glimpsed beds and desks inside, many of the rooms as disorganized as the Gryffindor dorms back home. Sometimes a face would peer out inquisitively as Harry and Wolverine walked by.
Wolverine wasn't particularly familiar with the school himself yet, thus he happened to lead Harry down the wrong corridor (perhaps a girl's hallway by the smell of perfume which permeated the area.)
"Logan!" one such girl had called when the pair walked by the open door. Harry turned to spot a somewhat pretty girl standing in her doorway, she had reddish brown hair with odd white streaks framing her face. She smiled warmly at Wolverine, then placed gloved hands on her hips.
"What are you doin' around here?" she asked, her voice an interesting southern drawl.
"Trying to find that Bobby kid's room, you wouldn't happen to know where it is would you?" Wolverine scratched at his ear in a somewhat canine fashion.
"Round back the other way," she said pointing her hand in the direction they had just come from.
"Thanks," he said brusquely, turning on his heel with Harry following after.
"I'll be seein' you at dinner, right?" she called after him. Wolverine offered a curt nod in response.
It still managed to take a moment for them to find the correct hallway. Harry seriously wondered why Wolverine had offered his services as a guide when the man seemed to know where he was going only a little better than Harry himself. Eventually they managed to come across a door with a cardboard sign on in. The sign read "IceMan" in blue writing, and then written in flames "Pyro". The sign also indicated, in smaller lettering, that the room belonged to Bobby and another name. The other name was illegible considering it had been scribbled out by a thick black marker.
Before knocking Wolverine seemed to pause, he grunted for a moment.
"You eh, ever need a hand around here. I might be around for a bit," the man said.
Harry grinned and tried not to laugh at the macho offer. "Thanks," he replied warmly all the same.
"That was nice elbow, back there in the facility. A little work on it, and you might not even have been nicked. Wheels was saying something about me teaching."
"You, teach?!" Harry said in amazement.
"Watch it bub," warned Wolverine, with what Harry hoped was a playful edge to his tone. "You'll be sounding like that weather witch down there. Personal defense, if there is one thing I'm good at it's that. If you wanted to work a bit, we could get you in top fighting form."
Harry paused. He knew Wolverine meant well, he supposed it was really a compliment that the fierce man thought Harry had what it took to be a good student. Still...
"I sort of hoped I wouldn't need it anymore," Harry said softly.
The mutant's sharp ears heard every word, and when the young boy looked up, Wolverine found himself reflected in sharp green eyes. Old eyes. It only lasted a moment before Harry smiled and looked away. Logan turned to leave as Harry knocked on the door. The Canadian mutant was left to wander back to the professor's office, wondering how a young man had such old eyes.
When he reentered, Storm, Jean and Scott were gathered around the headmaster's desk. They were speaking in low hurried tones.
"Ah, Logan. Harry settle in okay?" The Professor asked, looking up from amid his previous students.
Wolverine merely nodded.
"It seems we've discovered another unique ability of Mr. Potter's," Xavier said with a thoughtful look on his face.
"What?" Wolverine frowned.
"The Professor couldn't enter his mind," Jean answered with a sigh.
"Come on in" said a voice responding to Harry's knock. Harry did as told, slowly entering the room inside. Harry's first thought was that this was a teenager's room. And a teenage boy's at that. For a moment the young men themselves didn't register. Rather the room did, Harry found himself looking around with an odd feeling of nostalgia. Books lay about haphazardly, clothes were bunched on chairs and in piles on the floor. A few posters, muggle things Harry didn't know, were hung on the wall. A band dressed in black glared down fiercely from one wall, on the opposite wall a tall blonde woman posed provocatively.
The occupants themselves were situated stretched on their beds. One boy, probably about Harry's age, was lying on his stomach looking at a math book. He looked at Harry and seemed to be trying to figure if he knew him, a confused gaze on his face. The other boy, similar in age, had darker brown hair that was slicked back and hung down past his ears. Rather than studying, this young mutant had his eyes closed and was listening to music on his headphones.
"Hello, I'm Harry," the wizard managed to say, realizing he'd been staring for a moment. It seemed almost odd to be back in a school again, even if the environment was welcoming. "The uh, Professor said I could have the extra bed in this room."
The blonde boy jumped to his feet. "I'm Bobby, they call me Iceman. Here...uh let me get this cleared off," the boy moved to a corner of the room and began clearing off a variety of junk which they had piled on the spare bed. Pyro hadn't noticed Harry's entrance yet, Bobby chucked a shoe from the spare bed at his roommate.
"What the hell," Pyro complained ripping out his earphones. He stopped when he spotted Harry.
"Hello, Harry Potter," greeted Harry. He moved toward Bobby and helped remove the various things.
"Hey," said Pyro with a nod. "Toss me that would you Iceman," Pyro asked, as Bobby was about to drop a CD case on the floor. Bobby did so, it was likely accidental that the plastic case managed to smack the other young mutant in the head.
Once the bed was clear Bobby turned to Harry with a grin, "Welcome to Mutant High."
"Mutant High?" Harry asked with a twist of his neck.
"That 'school for gifted youngsters' is a mouthful. Got shortened to Mutant High long before we came here," Pyro explained.
Harry nodded taking a seat on the now clean bed. The pair of teenagers took in his appearance with raised eyebrows. Harry couldn't blame them, he was still dressed in the gray uniform from the mutant-proof facility. That, combined with the little blood that had trickled down from the neck slices courtesy of Wolverine and the scratch on his arm, left him looking more than a little peculiar.
"Why are you dressed like that?" Pyro asked somewhat rudely. Bobby cringed at the wording but didn't comment.
"Just broke out of jail," Harry said with a smirk.
"Cool," Pyro said in a low voice accompanied by a grin. He slouched back on his bed, apparently content with his new roommate.
Bobby was a little more unsure. "Eh...what for?" the boy asked ruffling his spiky hair.
"For being a Mutant," Harry answered honestly. The two teenagers exchanged glances.
"They can do that?" Bobby questioned.
"In London they can," Harry supplied. The boys seemed to relax some, obviously glad that the police wouldn't be knocking on the school doors anytime soon.
"That's why you talk funny," Pyro commented again.
Bobby seemed ready to apologize for his friend, but Harry just smiled. He rather liked Pyro's irreverent attitude. Bobby shook his head at the pair of them.
"So what can you do?" Pyro asked, "I can control fire." Pulling a lighter from his pocket, Pyro turned the small flame into a fireball. Harry twisted as a gust of cold air flew past him, putting the flames out and leaving Pyro's hand dusted in ice.
"Shit, that is freakin cold!" Pyro cursed rubbing his palms together.
"You know they said no more fireballs in here, if we burn one more bed we're sleeping on the floor," Iceman lectured.
"I can see why they put you in the same room," Harry commented wisely.
Both boys laughed, "Yeah Damage Control," Bobby said with a grin. Pryo grumbled how the room was never warm enough.
"What about you?" Bobby asked, ignoring the muttering firestarter.
"I can heal, and sorta shift my shape," Harry answered. He decided to downplay the previous glamour as much as he could. Most of these mutants seemed to have only one distinct ability, best not to stand out too much.
"That's pretty useful I guess, heal? Like Wolverine?" Bobby said with a thoughtful look on his face.
"Pretty much," was Harry's completely honest reply.
"Sounds just defensive to me," Pryo alleged with a little bit of a swagger. However the look on the mutant's face faded when Harry grinned a little wickedly.
"I make it count," voiced the wizard, a sense of confidence in his tone.
"Down Killer," Pyro said rolling his eyes.
From somewhere in the mansion a bell rung.
"Dinner time," announced Bobby. He turned to Harry.
"Where is the rest of your stuff? You may want to...you know... change." Bobby's well meant suggestion was punctuated by Pyro leaping from his bed, ruffling Bobby's hair as he went.
"Trust Mr. Hair Gel to worry about what you're wearing," he teased.
"This is what I have," Harry said, tapping his chest and throwing his hands out to indicate the gray uniform. Bobby frowned. Harry didn't see what the big deal was, and was going to say so, but Bobby had already turned and pulled a navy blue sweatshirt from a pile of what Harry hoped were clean clothes.
"Here, take this," the blonde mutant instructed, tossing the garment at the young wizard.
Harry caught it and felt the warm cloth appreciatively. "Thanks," he said with a nod. He zipped up the shirt, now hiding any blood on his clothes. It wasn't stylish, but at least he didn't look as much like he'd just escaped some mental institute.
After a firm look from Jean, Harry had loaded up a tray of food. The mutants seemed to eat in some sort of buffet style. Two long tables were heaped with food and teens would move between them picking out what they wanted to eat. One boy, to Harry's amazement, was walking back to his table balancing two trays packed with food. Harry hadn't imagined anyone could eat as much as his friend Ron or his cousin Dudley but that boy had them both beat. The reason for so much food soon became apparent when the same boy dashed across the room to retrieve his dessert, his movements were so fast he was nothing but a blur. Harry shook his head in amazement.
Bobby waved Harry over to his table. People shifted slightly, making room for the new addition to Mutant High. Harry sat his tray down with a nod of greeting for those present. He tried to focus on his food but he was more interested in the people around him, soon he left his plate alone and began to look around.
Beside Bobby was the same girl with white streaked hair that Harry had seen earlier. She seemed rather dainty, eating her meal with white gloves. Across from Harry was Pyro, and next to Pyro was another teenage boy. If indeed the word boy could possibly be applied. He was very broad shouldered and sat a good head taller than most people at the table. Beside the large man was a petite girl. She chatted with the large man animatedly, seemingly untroubled that the giant beside her hadn't said much. The girl had flaming red hair and spoke with an accent Harry could easily tag as Irish. Beside the girl with white striped hair was another girl with dark brown hair. She seemed busy eating, but would occasionally look up to glare at Pyro who was sneaking bites from her dessert.
"I'm Rogue," the girl with striped hair said, she seemed to have noticed his gaze among them.
"Harry," he greeted with a nod.
"So you're gonna be the new victim that has to put up with these two," she asked with a commiserating look.
"We're not that bad," Bobby complained.
Rogue merely smiled before sighing theatrically and muttering something like "Poor Marvin."
"That wasn't my fault," Argued Bobby. "Can I help it if he was afraid of both fire and Ice."
"He wasn't afraid of them until Pyro nearly set him on fire and you froze him into a block of ice to put out the flames," the girl with dark hair said.
Bobby shrugged.
"Ouch!" Pyro complained when the dark haired girl quickly snapped back and harpooned him with her fork, ceasing the boy's pilfering.
"I'm Kitty," the girl greeted with a bubbly voice, she ignored the moaning mutant across from her.
"Nice to meet you," Harry said with a smile. The dark haired young woman seemed to sigh at Harry's words.
"Oh doesn't he have the most adorable accent," she cooed.
Harry felt oddly disturbed, "eh, thank you?"
"Yes, it's really quite adorable" Pyro said mimicking Kitty's tone.
"I'm Syren," the red haired girl said. "An while the English have been invading ma homeland for as many years as can be recalled. I'm willing to forgive ye this slight, and perhaps we'll be good friends some day." That was Syren's attempt at a short greeting. Harry merely nodded.
"Pytor, but call me Colossus," greeted the large man in a soft voice, a slight Russian accent attached to his words.
"So what do you do Harry," Rogue inquired. She had leaned forward, positioning her self close to Bobby, which the Iceman didn't seem to mind.
"He's a Hea-ber," Pyro expressed with a mouth full of food.
"Was I askin' you" Rogue replied, a disgusted look crossing her pretty face.
"I heal," Harry explained.
"Oh, like Wolverine. That's a nice one," the girl said, she smiled genuinely, obviously remembering something.
"Maybe you'll survive bunking with these two after all," Kitty added with a grin. The two boys she was speaking of decided to ignore her comment.
"You know I've been thinking...don't Harry and Wolverine look sort of alike?" Pryo speculated, his mouth now empty of food. Harry glanced at Logan who was eating at the staff table. They didn't really look alike. Both were of medium height, and Wolverine seemed to have the same messy dark hair that Harry struggled with.
"A little I guess," Rogue voiced pensively.
"Are you really Wolverine's bastard son?" Pyro didn' wait for an answer, "It's so obvious, right?" pronounced Pyro, a triumphant grin on his face.
Harry snorted.
"Are you really," Syren asked excitedly. "Rogue's told us about him o'course..."
Harry quickly cut her off before the Irish mutant could continue. "No. I'm not."
"Ya gotta be," Pyro argued. He snorted. "He'd make a great dad, a parent and a can opener all in one!"
"You'd never have to pay for a haircut, " Bobby added. Rogue frowned at the banter.
" Still...I hope your mom changed your diapers...just saying, one wrong move and snip snip." Pryo and the other men cringed.
"Now, y'all stop messin' with him," Rogue said firmly. "It's his first day here and you're already spreadin' gossip."
"You don't know it's gossip," corrected Pyro.
"I assure you he's not my father, both my parents have been dead for quite some time," Harry stated pleasantly. His tone was as light as theirs had been, sadly it seemed his words hadn't matched his tone. The table quieted instantly. Families were rarely brought up. It could be a tender subject for many young mutants. Hence, such discussions were usually held over until a student's second day. They hadn't realized how the easy teasing had approached the dangerous subject.
"How'd they die?" Syren asked, leaning forward a bit in her chair.
"Syren!" Kitty shouted, the condemning tone in her voice caused the redheaded mutant to bite her tongue and blush.
"It's okay," Harry said. His parent's deaths had become old aches, "They died when I was one, I grew up with my aunt and uncle."
"Oh," Kitty said. She and many of the others picked up their forks and started eating again. They munched on the food for a moment, subtly sending Harry apologetic looks, finally realizing that he wasn't the least bit upset with them. He couldn't fault their curiosity, it was, after all, one of his defining traits.
"So, when did you find out that you're a mutant," Bobby asked. By his tone Harry could tell the question was a return to a safer, more repetitive subject. Perhaps one they asked every new student.
Indeed, it was a standard question, one that resulted in students discussing shared experiences, giving them all a sense of solidarity. An older mutant had asked Bobby his first day, Bobby in particular was glad to continue the tradition.
Harry couldn't know that in the recent years much had been learned about how and why mutations developed. Mutations often emerged during an individual's teen years, for most, sometime between the ages of fourteen and sixteen, these powers usually first appearing during periods of stress or when emotions were running high. There were cases where the mutation was more evident earlier on. Scientists believed that the body needed more time to develop these mutations, some could begin as early as nine or ten, during the early stages of puberty. But in these cases of early development, it was more common for the mutations to be visually obvious. Such things as wings, tails, and skin color changes usually accompanied such early onset mutations. As previously stated, Harry didn't know any of this. He hadn't even known that mutations developed. He absorbed this information before thinking up a lie that would hopefully work. Deciding a dash of honesty might be the best method, Harry blurted out,
"Eleven." That had been an age Harry had learned he was "different" even if his difference was magical and not mutation.
"That soon?" the teenagers shared glances. "Don't think I've met anyone who found out so soon," Rouge said thoughtfully.
Harry cursed under his breath, he couldn't change it now.
"Huh, that is weird," agreed Harry. Once again his easy admission being used as a way to avoid further questions. Thankfully it worked.
"I was fourteen," Bobby explained. "My brother and I would get in fights, and every time we did it was as if the heat got turned off. My Mom kept calling the repairman to look at the furnace," Bobby's tale was funny and everyone laughed.
"I was fifteen," Kitty shared. "See I can become insubstantial," Harry watched as her hand slid through the table. Even in the magic world he'd never seen anything like that.
"Bloody great," he said with a smile.
Kitty flushed, "Well the first time it wasn't so great. I was at the mall, with some friends, and my friend Kelly stole a shirt. Well, I don't think she did it on purpose. We were all trying on tons of shirts trying to find one for a dance, and Kelly put on a pink shirt that looked kinda like the one she'd come in wearing, we'd all had quite a few moccachinos so it could have been an accident"
It was at this point that Pyro made gagging sounds.
Kitty glared and waved her fork in his direction. "Anyway, we were all busted and waiting in the Security office, even though it was only Kelly who had taken the shirt, and I was freaking out because I knew my mother would ground me for the rest of my life, even if it wasn't my shirt...and to make a long story short,"
"Too late," grumbled Pyro.
"I sort of slipped through the wall and out of the Mall Security office. Course everyone thought I'd skipped out on them and none of my friends would speak to me..." Kitty frowned.
"By far the lamest reason to be hauled away by security," intoned Pyro sagely.
"Well the rest of us aren't experts at getting thrown out of the mall," hissed Kitty through clenched teeth.
"It sort ov runs in the family," Colossus said with a shrug, his voice had thankfully interrupted the brewing argument between Pyro and Kitty. The large mutant didn't elaborate so Harry nodded as if his statement made all the sense in the world, as for all he knew it did.
"Me too!" Syren said happily, latching onto Colossus's arm. "Fourteen, I had these terrible headaches, then one day I lost my voice. Ma auntie was worried, sure and she knew my mother had been a mutant. So when my voice came back the next day strong enough to shatter glass, she knew what had happened. Called the Professor right off, he knew what to do," Syren grinned before turning back to eating.
Rogue's turn, "I can, umm, take energy...when people touch my skin. Didn't developed until I was sixteen... thankfully." She toyed with the gloves on her hand and didn't offer the story of how she had first learned about her mutation.
Pryo was the last at the table to speak. And he didn't. Rather the rough young man tucked into his dinner with enthusiasm. However, no one seemed to have expected him to tell his tale.
"Well, aren't you goin' to be telling us yer story?" Syren inquired. She had pretty blue eyes that looked into his green expectantly.
"Not...eh, not to much to tell." Harry quickly ran over the story he had made up during the plane ride over. He'd prepared it in case the teachers had asked but it would work for the students as well...he'd just need to tweak it a bit now that he knew mutations developed. He was currently rather thankful the Professor hadn't asked for the story earlier.
"Well, I lived with my aunt and uncle...who didn't really like things to be unusual." The teens shifted at this statement. "When I was eleven I eh, noticed that I healed pretty quick from things. Quicker than was usual. My relatives didn't like that much so I took off. Bout it really." Harry shrugged and averted his eyes.
What a sad attempt. There was no way that they'd believe this...was there? Harry chanced a glance upwards. The teenage mutants did look uncomfortable...but not disbelieving. Was this world so bad that it was plausible for an eleven-year-old boy to be kicked onto the streets?
No, it couldn't be. Could it?
"Uh, do we have a paper due on Monday, I forget," Pyro said. His question was an obvious attempt to fill the uncomfortable silence that had descended on them.
"Not until Tuesday," Kitty replied.
"Good, because I really didn't understand that Allied vs Axis thing...which one was Hitler?"
"Gosh John don't you ever pay attention in class?" Kitty demanded.
"Don't call me that," the young man complained darkly.
"What, John...John, John, Johnny, John, John..." Kitty sang the little tune under her breath and Pyro glared at her. Rouge and Bobby snickered.
"I don't understand why you don't like it," Bobby asked.
Pyro closed his eyes and gave a long suffering sigh. "So says the boy with a name like Bobby. These names are like our slave names, they were branded onto us by people who are trying to control us. You've got to be able to think for yourself," Pyro pounded his fist in a dramatic fashion, which Harry found amusing.
The other mutants around the table seemed to agree, if not as passionately.
"Anyway, I don't know why everyone bugs me about it," complained Pyro. "No one bothers Marie."
Rogue coughed. "I don't make a big stinkin' deal about it either," she said with a glare.
Harry ate while the conversation continued, soon shifting to discussions about classes. He didn't want to admit it but he was getting progressively more tired as the minutes passed. He had developed a slight headache behind his eyes which seemed to be trying to tell him that it was time for sleep. He wouldn't mind when he was back to his normal physical condition. With that in mind, Harry tucked into his food, determined to gain his health back as quickly as possible. He had actually been in pretty good shape before his capture. Not that he had paid it much mind at the time. It was more just a casual observation. He'd never quite understand why people body-built just to look good. Any muscle he had gained had been for necessity.
Fifth year had been the starting point, things had changed markedly fast after that year. Dumbledore had changed in some way, his eyes had twinkled less. He spoke to Harry more and he spoke to him differently. At first Harry hadn't been able to peg the change, it had been illusive, constantly moving forward than retreating. One night while speaking with his headmaster he had felt a deep rumbling in chest, and suddenly he knew what was different. The old man's eyes didn't twinkle whimsically around Harry anymore, he didn't speak to him with a comical voice. Harry realized with that deep rumbling, a sort of thrilling and falling, that he was no longer being treated like a child. Harry had been given a grown man's burden, the old man had come to see this.
And so it had changed swiftly, and yet Dumbledore's actions seemed to be hesitant jerky steps. Harry's time at Hogwarts changed. He was no longer a student earning an education, he was warrior learning the trades of survival. He was using his time in Hogwarts's sanctuary to his anvantage, before the security was spent.
Special training in dueling, muggle defense, and battlemagic had been incorporated into Harry's schedule, indeed had become his schedule. His teachers had been ex-aurors like Alastor Moody, as well as a few shifty characters that Harry wondered how Albus Dumbledore could know. Most of these men would come, teach Harry a skill, then move on. Days were long hard, and often times, secret. Harry was busy learning things he couldn't share with anyone, including his friends.
"Where have you been mate?"
"Harry we never see you anymore?"
"Why won't you tell us what you've been doing."
"Just talk to us"
But in the end it was his burden to bear, it had always been his burden
.
It had made a strange and somewhat lonely sixth year. Looking ahead, Harry knew that Seventh year was destined to be the same. But only a few days into June Voldemort had attacked, taking Harry with him. His friends had found themselves bereft, wistfully hoping that the stranger Harry had become would allow him to survive his ordeal. As the days dragged into weeks, their hope fractured.
They weren't the only ones. Although Harry didn't know it at the time, the boy-who-lived's capture (right from under Dumbledore's nose) had been the blow that had struck at the heart of the wizarding world. People whispered that the Dark Lord didn't fear the old headmaster anymore, and with Harry Potter captured...what would become of them? Harry, had he known, likely wouldn't have felt much pity for them. He was having a hard enough time himself at the moment. Locked in a room, unable to tell night from day, Deatheaters stumbling in for a bit of sport from time to time and constant scar headaches from Voldemort. The Dark Lord had been somewhat hesitant to directly attack Harry, the prophecy still lingering in his mind. And, whether it have been destiny or not, Harry had endured nineteen days of treatment that should have killed him. But didn't. When Voldemort had finally shown his snakeface, Harry had endured enough. He blew the dark bugger to kingdom come.
Harry jerked as a pair of hands gripped his shoulder. He looked up rapidly, a hex on his lips, only to meet the kind gaze of Jean Grey.
"I think you need some sleep," she said in an authoritative voice. She just smiled when Harry blinked heavily and nodded his head. She'd watched the young man from the staff table, his head sinking lower and lower into his chest.
Bobby and Pyro rose as well, following the young doctor and their new roommate. Harry's feet shuffled as they walked the halls back to their room, he paid little attention to the building this time.
When they reached the room, Jean turned to the two boys who had followed them. "Could one of you find some pajamas he could wear? We'll have to take you shopping sometime tomorrow."
Harry muttered something about not needing anything. Pyro dug through a drawer and pulled out a clean t-shirt and some boxer shorts. He handed them to the young Englishman who fiddled with them in his hands as if trying to figure out how they worked. Jean left, giving both boys a proud nod. They'd see that he was alright here.
Harry lifted his own shirt and removed it, stood for a moment trying to locate the right hole for the shirt he was holding. He turned when he heard a somewhat loud hiss. Bobby and Pyro were both staring at him with looks of shock and concern mingled with anger. Harry was confused for a moment.
"Your back..." Bobby swallowed uncomfortably.
"Oh," Harry remembered that it must look a sight. MacNair had gotten bored one day (night?) and had gotten a little exuberant with a conjured whip. The fact that Macnair could easily conjure a whip told Harry more about the man's social life than he had wanted to know.
Harry figured out the shirt and slid the material on, hiding the scars that marked him.
"Does...that hurt?" Bobby couldn't help but ask. It looked so wretchedly painful, the ice mutant couldn't imagine living through that.
"No," Harry said shaking his head. He remained still for a moment, his eyes shifting in Pyro's direction to take in his expression.
Bobby had chosen shock and concern. Pyro had chosen anger. "It looks like it was done with a belt," he noted with little emotion seeping into the words.
"Something like that," Harry admitted. Pyro's jaw set, his eyes flickered as if a dark rage burnt inside him. Harry decided to finish getting changed. The two boys left without any additional comment, which Harry was glad for as it allowed him to climb into his bed uninterrupted. He soaked into the mattress. Ahhh, now this was a bed. Soft, layers of blankets and piles of pillows. He almost wished he could have conjured a canopy. But then that would probably be too much like home.
Home. Harry smiled. Home was a world away. Homes were nice, they had their uses, but they also had their problems. Harry had found a home at Hogwarts, and he'd paid for it. He didn't really miss it. How eager was he to reclaim this home here?
Harry closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of knowing that he had an uninterrupted night ahead of him. There hadn't been a twinge from his scar, no Voldemort visions to trouble him tonight. And while his own life had been dark enough to inspire quite a few nightmares, Harry wasn't worried. He usually forgot all his dreams anyway.
Outside the room where Harry slept, two teenage boys stood in a hallway. Neither of them had liked what they saw. It was bringing up old memories for one and making the other wonder if this world was worth saving, not when there were such terrible people in it.
Still, there was something additional troubling Bobby and it took him a moment to identify it.
Turning to his friend and roommate, Iceman said, "But how?...if his power is healing...how does he have all those scars?"
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone