A/N: Hey all, Kvaes here… but you probably already knew that. Thank you to all those who reviewed! It's totally awesome to get feedback about my story, and I hope you all keep enjoying it.
A cookie for MCV, thank you for the help XD
Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K Rowling and Marvel Comics for the characters of Harry Potter and the X-men. Any OCs are mine XD
WordCount:2333
Chapter 3: Something Wicked this way comes.
Struggling with a particularly stubborn root, Harry cursed under his breath. He had gotten a letter last night from one of the Ministry owls stating that since he no longer required a wand, but was not emancipated by the Ministry, they would be monitoring his magic to make sure that he wasn't terrorising Muggles. It wasn't as though his magic worked perfectly all the time, but he supposed that with the Ministry, it was better to be safe than sorry. Although at this time he could have cheerfully choked the Headmaster with his Lemon Drops for mentioning it. It certainly would have helped with all the chores he had, that was for sure.
The sun on Harry's back was particularly brutal, the ragged shirt that Dudley had worn barely three times offering no protection from the imminent heatstroke that would surely strike him down. However, Harry had noticed that he had been strangely drawn to the environment outside; the air, earth and water offering him a comfort that he had never known, and he often returned inside with his strength rejuvenated, not a sunburn in sight, no matter how little protection he was given. In fact, it seemed as though his magic had indeed evolved; when Harry had returned to the house with Vernon after returning from Hogwarts, Dudley had distracted him when he was taking some baking out of the oven, the paper on the tray catching fire and spreading quickly. Harry, instead of letting go of the paper, had dumped it in the sink. However, the fact that he was not wearing oven mitts or seemed to notice the heat of the flames did not escape Petunia's notice. That particular feat had earned him almost a week shut in his room before they realised it was a waste to let him 'rest' when they still had mountains of chores for him to do. She and Vernon had decided that since 'the boy' seemed to do freaky things while in the kitchen (especially when other people were around), he should be banished to the garden outside instead.
So Harry worked outside, no matter the weather; pruning, weeding, clipping, cutting and otherwise primping Petunia's lacklustre garden into top shape for the local 'Best Kept Garden' Award. Consequently, here he was, outside in the sweltering heat, making sure Petunia's precious plants were kept in top shape. Finishing with the tools he turned towards the garden shed in the backyard, hoping that Vernon wouldn't notice that he had finished already.
"BOY!" Came the cry, and Harry sighed as he closed the door to the shed, heading back towards the house and toeing off his ratty trainers at the back door. Walking quickly to the living room, Harry stood just behind Vernon's chair, ready to duck out the way if Vernon decided to aim a blow his way for taking too long.
"See this boy. This is what freaks like you can do to the world!" Vernon announced merrily, pointing at the television screen where what looked like a battlefield was evolving in the streets of an urban part of America. The announcer, who looked rather green at the thought of being anywhere near the destruction, but couldn't resist a good story, was reporting on site.
"- As you can see, the destruction behind me was caused not by natural disaster, but by Magneto's Brotherhood of Mutants. Mutants and their ilk are a danger to our society and our existence. If you have any information on these mutants, or know the location of any known mutant terrorists, contact the number on your screen now."
Harry felt sick as the camera cut to show the utter carnage displayed around what was once a city; and peeling his eyes from the television, he scowled at Vernon, who sneered in return.
"Don't you look at me like that, boy. You and your freaky friends are abominations, not fit for interacting with the rest of polite society." Vernon said, glowering from behind his moustache like an irate walrus. That mental image made Harry choke on his laughter to avert the potential punishment that Vernon seemed to like doling out. Vernon observed what he felt as divine punishment with a glee filled grin.
"I have been talking to Petunia and Marge about your weirdo ramblings; and we have all decided that this has gone on long enough. She was able to get a hold of a doctor to help us cure you of this wretched freakiness. They will arrive tomorrow, so until then, you can stay in your room." Vernon's face seemed to light up at the word cure, and Harry had a bad feeling that tomorrow would mark the day when his world would be turned on its head.
The sound of the door being opened and the voices of Marge and Vernon comingling sounded like the baying of Hellhounds to Harry's ears. The enquiring hoot from Hedwig did not help the sinking feeling in his stomach that would not go away.
"Somehow, I don't think I'll be getting out of this whole girl." He murmured, looking out over the street from the window and wishing with his heart that the Ministry hadn't decided to register his Wandless magic. At least then he could have set her free.
"So where is he Vernon?" Marge asked, and Harry froze at the sound of another man's voice filtering through the floorboards and creeping into the room.
"I need to examine the subject so that I can determine what steps need to be taken to… fix him of this little problem he has." The voice seemed almost delighted that Harry could be considered as an experiment, and it was that tone of voice that had Harry's heart beating unnaturally fast.
"He is upstairs, wait here and I will go and get him." Vernon said, for once not sounding unhappy about fetching Harry from the room upstairs. The sound of his footsteps drawing closer made Harry cringe, and it was with trepidation that he found himself walking downstairs to meet the newcomers. As soon as he reached the ground floor, he was nearly attacked by Ripper; who when he caught a full scent of Harry, turned around and ran behind Marge with a whimper.
"See, even the dog knows that the boy is bad news Vernon. Dr Essex is the best in the business at what he does." Marge said, patting Ripper on the head and trying to coax him out from behind her. Staring down at the dog, Harry wondered why the animal felt that today of all days was the day it wanted to actually destroy him. Turning his green eyes back to the newcomer in the doorway, Harry found himself filled with a fear that previously, only Voldemort inspired. Somehow, he felt, this man could do more damage to him than even the Dark Lord could.
Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Remy had stayed away from the school for nearly three weeks after the incident in the office. He barely talked to any of the inhabitants of the school and the only people who truly knew his whereabouts were the Professor (because of Cerebro) and Logan. He felt violated by Jean's intrusion on his memories and found himself wondering just how much she had actually seen. Most of his more painful memories were locked down in the darkest recesses of his mind, but sometimes, just a hint of them managed to break through the barrier, and swirled chaotically through his thoughts. Yet now, he knew that he had relaxed enough to start coming back to the school and hang out on the roof with Logan.
"She didn't see all that much Gumbo. The Professor took a look, and it was nothing you haven't let him see before." Logan rumbled, watching from the railing of his balcony as Remy balanced expertly a top the weather vane.
"She didn' need ta see it a' all Wolvie. She shoulda stay'd r'ght de hell outa m' t'oughts. Remy is a private pers'n. Don' need nobody pokin' aroun' in 'is head." He argued, absently rubbing his hand over his ribs. The feeling of them shifting under his hand had never gone away completely, and he liked to make sure that it was still a thing of the past.
"All I'm sayin' is, just don't take what she and Scott did out on the others. I know Ororo is missing you talking to her, and Rogue wanted to talk to you too." Logan said, trying to get the younger man to at least socialise with some of the people at the school. If he did that, it wouldn't have to become a sticking point at further meetings. After all, no-one wanted to bring up the fact that Remy had spent a week in the red-light district instead of coming back to the mansion, and had stated quite firmly that the company was infinitely better that way.
"Remy t'inks ya need ta stop worryin' about 'im. Don' worry mon ami, I will talk ta de X-Men… but den ag'in, m'ybe dis time I c'n hold a conv'rsation wit'out bein' spyed on." He murmured, leaping from the weather vane over the side of the roof, landing gracefully several stories below and ambling over to one of the willow trees in the yard, his trademark cigarette in one hand and his deck of cards in another. Throwing himself onto the ground in the shade, he dealt himself a game of solitaire and contemplated the choice before him. After all, it was all very well for them to tell him to socialise when no-one wanted to talk to him anyway.
Later that night, Remy found himself standing outside the dining hall. Taking his sunglasses off, he hesitated before opening the doors; knowing that no matter how good they were out in the real world, the X-Men couldn't keep a secret within the mansion walls; meaning that everyone here knew about his little tussle with the red-haired telepath, and that the rumours had most likely gotten out of hand. Lining up for some food, he grabbed a bowl of whatever soup they were serving; but facing the sea of faces around him, all focused on him as though he were a bug under the microscope, he turned on his heel and strode outside. Stopping in front of one of the glasshouses, he let himself inside and shut the door behind him, registering the presence of the weather witch inside almost instantly.
"Do come in Mr LeBeau, don't let your dinner go to waste." Ororo said, not turning from the orchids she was watering, the artificial light above it illuminating the flower perfectly. Seating himself at one of the tables, he dug into the soup, stopping his eating when she finished with the watering can and sat down opposite him. Tilting his head at her, he quirked an eyebrow at her and pushed the bowl away from him, lounging back in the cushioned seat.
"Ya g't a reason ta let Remy in ya quiet room Chere?" He asked tilting his head slightly as if to interpret her reasons from her body language.
"It could be as simple as wanting your company Remy." Ororo said warmly, interpreting his head movement and the cause behind it, laughing at the face he showed when he registered what she had said. Shaking his head, he struck a pose in the chair.
"Oui Ma'emoiselle. Remy knows de w'men jus' love ta fall for 'im, but it gets tirin' tryin' ta keep track o' ev'ryone who wants a piece o' dis Cajun spice." He announced, flashing a cheeky grin at her while his eyes glowed eerily.
"Ah, but not everyone is interested in your 'cooking' Remy. Maybe they just want to talk?" Ororo responded promptly, causing Remy to sigh and shake his head, as though it was a chore to even think about it.
"W'at is de point o' gettin' dis Cajun alone if all ya gonna do is talk cher? Cookin' is w'at Remy is best at… b'sides t'ievin'." He deadpanned and they looked at each other for a long moment before a small smirk broke across Ororo's mouth.
"I have no doubt about that Mr LeBeau. If you ever need someone to just talk to, you can come out to the glasshouses. You'll always be welcome there, even if it's just to flirt outrageously." She said, leaning back against the trunk of one of the trees.
"Well, t'ank ya kindly Stormy, Remy'll be sure ta stop 'round some t'mes jus' fo' a chat. Au revoir." He said, hightailing it out of the glass house before she could register the fact she now had a new nick name. As he headed further into the woods behind the mansion, Remy could hear the outraged, "STORMY?" echo around the grounds and chuckled to himself. It really was too easy to wind people up.
Remy lay awake in his bed, the curtains pulled open wide and the stars in the sky shining down upon him. Nothing could stop him from enjoying the wonders of viewing the uninhibited night sky.
"All X-Men to report to the War Room."
Well… except that. Grumbling to himself, he rolled out of his sheets and tugged a shirt on over his head, haphazardly slipping his feet into some boots before stumbling out the door and shaking himself alert. Making his way to the War Room, he wished absently that he had remembered to bring his cigarettes with him. At least then he would have had something to do while they all talked. Professor Xavier greeted them with a grim face.
"I'm sorry to have brought you all here at this time of night, but this concerns all of us. Dr Sinister has moved from America and taken up residence under the name of Nathaniel Essex. He was last spotted entering the suburb of Little Whinging in Surrey."
Translations
Oui: Yes
Mademoiselle: Miss
Au Revoir: Goodbye, farewell
Mon ami: My Friend
