Disclaimer: I neither own any of this and nor am I making a single penny from this. This is amateur and for my own, and hopefully others, amusement.

AN: Gosh, another fic. This one made me write it. I'm going to update in a sort of rotation order. Tom Bombadil and the Fish is next on the list now.

This is a crossover with the x-men, it's set after Harry's fifth year. It's quite, bordering on very AU. Sirius didn't die, Harry never learnt his lesson about being rash as he found the prophecy at the end of the year without anyone dying. I've only seen the films for the x-men, so I'm sorry about anything I get wrong. There will more than likely be SLASH in this. I hope you like it!

And No, this is not Harry/Dudley. I thought I should make that clear, haha.

Chapter One- Sulking Strangers and Seeing Red

"Remember the witch hunts? That Salem, haha. Okay, that's not really funny… –Harry"

There was great upset within the house at number 4, Privet Drive. This was partly due to the dark haired boy who mainly spent most of his days outside, seeking solace from the noisy house. He found peace and solitude in the front garden. His summer had been completely miserable so far, his family had seen to that. It wasn't merely their rudeness towards him, or how they so often completely ignore his existence that irked him- it was what their dark looks suggested that was so irritating. They conveyed clearly that they despised him for something he could do absolutely nothing about, and wouldn't want to do anything about even if could.

After a horrible school year it was all enough to cause his magic to manifest accidentally. His aunt Petunia had, at first managed to pass off the photos shaking on the wall as a lorry driving past. She had a harder time thinking of an explanation when the dinner on her plate, (and her husbands) exploded, splattering her clothing and the surrounding area.

However that wasn't the main reason for the current aura of upset and panic. It was his cousin, Dudley who was now the problem. Harry watched the scene before him, and couldn't help being fascinated by the role reversal.

Something had happened to his cousin. At first, he had just been watching wrestling and imitating the moves. Which was perfectly fine, according to his Aunt and Uncle. It was a respectably masculine thing to do. Harry had noticed even then that his cousin hadn't clumsily copied the moves. The mimicry had been immaculate. Flawless. Which it shouldn't have been on such a bulky body. He had failed to notice the look of shock that had passed over Dudley's face, as he performed wrestling moves that ought to have taken years to master. He would have certainly felt very suspicious much earlier on if he had.

The proud glances had quickly changed to ones of concern and annoyance when Dudley had started copying over things. Like when Petunia wanted to watch the ballet on television. Nobody had expected Dudley to come into the living room with a series of twirls on the tips of his toes. Nor did they expect him to know how to carve complex and intricate statues out of ice without picking up a book or attending a class. But he did.

The last straw had almost been when Dudley reupholstered the living room sofa and chairs. The camels back had truly been broken by the time he punched a whole through the staircase after watching a Jackie Chan film.

"Petunia, enough is enough!" Vernon said in a low growl, his face red and he looked around as if suspecting the neighbours to be listening through the walls or peeking through the windows. "He's one of those bloody…y'know…"

Petunia had wrung her apron in her hands, clearly distressed at the whole situation.

"Oh don't be silly, Vernon. He's our son. He wouldn't be one of those…things," she didn't name them, but she even said "things" with great distaste, as if the word tasted bad upon her tongue.

"He needs to be helped. I won't have my son being treated like a, like a- freak!" Vernon spat the last word out quickly, and looked horrified when he realised what he had actually said it.

Petunia had gasped with shocked, and his cousin had sat miserably on the sofa with his head on his hands. Harry hovered in the doorway- unsure whether he should really stay but reluctant to leave.

He didn't know what was wrong with his cousin but his aunt and uncle were making even less sense. They couldn't really think Dudley was a wizard, could they?

Harry suspected that this could all be an elaborate prank on his cousin's part, although it did seem a lot more effort than the fat oath would feasibly use. It was bizarre.

"Listen Petunia. You've seen it- on the news. In America-"

"Oh, America!" Petunia screeched hysterically, rounding on her husband, "They know everything, do they? These nut job doctors? This will probably go on his passport or something!"

"They have institutions for people like him," Vernon had continued unperturbed by his wife screaming at him like a Banshee. "We're getting him help."

And so they had packed their things to leave.

Harry didn't bother to pack anything. He felt slightly depressed by how everything had turned out. His school year had been awful, and now his cousin was acting oddly, and his aunt and uncle were practically just fine with this. So much for hating anyone remotely different, and ruining his childhood. The hypocrites. The Order said they would pick him up soon anyway, and he was just fine staying on his own until then. Besides that the protection would still work as long as he stayed in the house.

He glanced in the large mirror that his aunt had hung up in the hallway. She had seen on some poorly made, boring TV programme that it made the room seem larger and immediately bought the biggest one she could find. Was it just his imagination or did his eyes seem a little blue?

No, he was certain they had looked blue when he had seen them in his peripheral vision. However when he took his glasses off and had a closer look it revealed nothing new, they were just green with a few lighter flecks of yellow close to his pupils.

Strange.

The weird day was affecting even him. And it was about to get even stranger.

"What are you doing?" His aunt demanded as she came downstairs with her bags. "Go and get ready. Now!"

"What?" Harry asked, completely confused.

"What, you think you're getting out of this?" Petunia glared at him, "I know you had something to do with this mess and I will find out what. Hurry up!"

She then turned her back on him and marched out the door, muttering about her "poor duddykins".

Harry stood in the hallway for a few moments longer, not sure what to do. He really did need to stay here. He was kind of curious what was wrong with Dudley though…and, well the Order were watching him, right?

Surely they would know if he left and would…follow him. He hoped.

He rushed into the kitchen, grabbing a biro from the pot on the side and ripping one of his aunts little squares of paper she used for notes from the book. He rearranged his grip on the pen, which felt uncomfortable now he was so used to a quill and scrawled, "Something is wrong with Dudley and we're all going to America. North Salem. Remember the witch hunts? That Salem, haha. Okay, that's not really funny… –Harry"

Vernon stuck his round the kitchen door, "Hurry up boy, we're leaving." He said pointing with his thumb in the direction of the front of the house, as if Harry didn't know where it was.

Harry ran upstairs and grabbed his wand, stuffed some muggle clothes in his bag along with all his textbooks. He paused and stared at Hedwig, before opening her cadge.

"Okay, girl I need a favour," he said trying the note around her leg. "Take this to Ron please?"

He wondered if Ron would even be at his house or if he would be at Grimmauld place like he had been last year. "If you can't find him take it to Dumbledore. Bye Hedwig!" he opened the window and she nipped him affectionately on the ear before flying away.

The car horn hooted and he ran downstairs. As he climbed into the car Harry could have sworn he saw bubblegum pink hair out of the corner of his eye before it quickly disappeared. Hopefully the order knew he was leaving by now. If not, they were doing a pretty awful job of guarding him.

The car journey was horrible and it made him feel ill. The atmosphere of awkwardness, and hurt on all parts didn't help much. He wound down his window for some air, only to have his uncle bark at him to, "shut that bloody window". He tried to sleep through the rest of the trip.

But if he had thought the car had been bad the plane was even worse. It reminded him a little of the Quidditch World Cup, how people were jostling each other to get to their destination and the sheer amount of them that were there.

"Aunt Petunia!" Harry exclaimed loudly as a horrible thought washed over him. "I do have a passport, don't I?"

"Don't be so ridiculous, of course you do," she snapped and happily went back to completely ignoring him. Harry stared at her quickly disappearing back, confused as to when he had ever needed one. Aunt Petunia and his uncle must have put more planning into this than he'd expected. He ran after them, unwilling to get lost in this place.

It was a horrible blur after that, even more horrible that is, right up until he sat in his seat. He was feeling nervous. Don't be stupid, he tried telling himself, you've been on nothing more than a piece of wood in the air and you're scared now?

That's ridiculous. But no matter how many times he told himself that, it didn't get rid of or even lessen the sickened feeling in the pit of his stomach. The fluttering in his chest wasn't helping either.

He almost didn't notice Dudley, and his aunt and uncle walking to the front of the plane. Where were they doing?

He tried to see where they were going but gave up and sat back in his chair as people moved past him to sit down. He glanced at the couple sitting next to him. One was a woman who looked about middle-aged, with light brown and wavy hair, and some lines around her eyes and mouth. She seemed a little harassed. The other person was a boy, - no, a man who looked older than him but was probably still a teenager.

He sat down with a huff, and glanced around the plane. He had startling blue eyes, and dark hair- Harry couldn't help but stare. He almost reminded him of his godfather with his unusual colouring. When the man's gaze fell on him, Harry looked away trying not to blush. It didn't work as well as he'd have liked.

He pretended to fall asleep.

"Look, it's that weirdo who had the stick," the man hissed at the woman.

Oh god, Harry thought completed humiliated. He had hope nobody had noticed that.

His face felt like he had a fever or something, he must have been luminous red. Glowing. He was feeling more and more nervous all the time as well. He really did hate this aeroplane. And the stupid person in the blue uniform, who decided they desperately needed to search his pockets. Why did muggles put up with that treatment?

It was just rude. They had given it back to him in the end, with a very confused look but that wasn't the point. Any damage had already been done.

"Oh yeah," the woman replied to her companion, managing to sound wholly disinterested.

"Wasn't he with those two really fat men? And the anorexic?" He suddenly laughed. "Oh my god, do you think he killed them off?"

"Alex!" the woman exclaimed, to her male companion who must, Harry assumed be Alex.

"Would you shut up?"

"Oh, you can never take a joke." Alex grumbled sitting back in the chair. "He's asleep anyway."

"You shouldn't be so rude," the woman retorted although Harry heard her laugh a bit as well. He decided he disliked the pair of them. No, he hadn't kill off his relatives. They had abandoned him for better seats. No great surprise there.

"His clothes are a disgrace. Do you think he sold all his clothes for drug money?" Alex asked in a tone that instantly reminded him of Malfoy. Only less eloquent, if that were possible.

"Alex, for goodness sakes. You're going to wake him up if you don't shut up." The woman snapped.

She was starting to sound almost as fed up as Harry felt, and he thought the man would be quiet if he knew what was good for him. Depressingly, Harry suspected that he didn't.

"I was just saying. God."

There was a short pause. Far too short.

"Hey- he's kinda cute in an emo sort of way, don't you think?" he chirped up after a minute of tense silence.

"Alex-"

Harry jumped out of his seat feeling completed and totally embarrassed. He wobbled on his legs and had to grip the edge of his seat to stay upright, his stomach was churning dangerously.

He tried not to run to the toilet, and quickly shut the door when he got there. Breathing heavily he leant against the door. He shook slightly. What right did that- idiotic- boy have to talk about him like that?

He knew absolutely nothing about him!

Nothing.

He punched the door, feeling angry enough to lash out and not want to control it. He turned around to splash his face with water and stopped in shock.

His hair was red.

Not the bright colour of Ron's hair, it was darker than that but still distinctly and unmistakably red.

Shit.

He was so dead.

What on earth was going on with him?

Harry walked quickly back his seat, his head down and avoiding anyone's gaze. He expected cries of, "what happened to him?" but none came. He dropped down and leant back on the chair, keeping his expression stoic.

He noticed the rude man staring at him again.

"What?" he asked. He didn't care if he sounded harsh or not. This man was unbelievable.

The man stared a little more, before shaking his quickly, as if to get out of a daze.

"Nothing." He said shortly, a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks. The woman coughed in an obviously fake way, and with a smile on her face.

Good, Harry thought. He spent the rest of the flight trying to work out what had happened. It must have been accidental magic, he decided, except he hadn't really felt it the way he usually did when that happened. How was he going to explain this to the Dursleys?

He could only hope that the whole experience with Dudley was leaving them a little more open minded.

An: Harry is very emotional, isn't he?

I wonder why, haha. Dudley is a mutant, if you couldn't tell.