A Power Within
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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, X-Men, or any of the things in this story (unless otherwise stated). I am merely a player in the worlds created by the respective owners of Harry Potter, X-Men, etc.
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Chapter Four: New Students
Scott stormed through the hallways of the Institute, a scowl firmly plastered on his features. It was a side of the normally cool and collected professor that the students rarely saw, and, quite frankly, it scared them out of their wits. Especially when the man practically slammed into the dining area, his eye visor flashing dangerously.
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Logan muttered as Scott slammed into the seat across from him.
"Don't mess with me Wolverine," Scott growled menacingly.
Logan just rolled his eyes and went back to telling Ororo about the new students. Scott scowled as Remy made some of Rogue's mashed potatoes blow up, much to the amusement of Malfoy and Bobby.
Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape had lived in Britain for years; Malfoy was about the same age his son would be.
He whipped his head around to stare disbelievingly down the table, towards where Kurt (Nightcrawler) and Snape were engaged in a heated conversation.
"You knew," he declared suddenly, causing those around him to fall silent, "God damn it, Snape! You knew! Why the hell didn't you tell me?"
"Tell you what exactly, Summers?" Snape asked succinctly.
"That my fucking son is alive, you son of a bitch," Scott snarled, jumping to his feet.
"Ah…I take it Lupin and Black told you," Snape drawled, sharing a brief look with Malfoy, "Tell me, would you have believed me if I told you, Summers?"
"I…" Scott stopped, stared at the man for several seconds before looking away.
"Scott!" Jean's voice caused the man to jump.
There in the doorway of the dining hall stood his fiancé. Her feet were spread wide; her hands settled firmly on her hips, her green-blue eyes narrowed to slits.
"Jean…" he squeaked.
"Don't you 'Jean' me," the woman snarled, "Why can't you just lay off Severus for once in your life? He is not at fault for everything! Not to mention swearing in front of the students!"
Scott cringed; Jean had always been somewhat of a stickler about that one. A movement behind Jean caught his eye and he paused. Cautiously, Scott peered around his fiancé at the two strangers that stood behind her.
One was a girl with dark skin and gold-brown hair that spiralled out from her head in short, cropped curls. She was wearing a loose, black jacket over a white tank top, dark green three-quarter, cargo trousers and dark brown sandals that crisscross over her feet and wrapped around her ankles.
The other was a boy, mostly obscured by the shadows of the room, which seemed to cling to his very skin. He was tall, thin, and pale; dressed in all black, a high-necked jacket zipped all the way up. His face was thin with high cheekbones, and slightly wide set, jade green eyes, which seemed to flicker and blur. His black eyebrows were slim and finely arched, and his nose was small and perfect, if a bit long in the bridge. His hair seemed to have been buzzed, and black fuzz sprouted from his scalp in all directions.
"Who are they?" he asked.
Jean look startled and quickly looked over her shoulder, "Oh," she laughed softly, "New students," the fire came back to her eyes, "And don't change the subject!"
Scott laughed loudly, "I'm sorry, ok?" he asked, "I just…" he shook his head and sighed, "My son's alive."
"Yeah," Jean said softly, "I heard. We'll talk about that later, for now…" she raised her voice, "May I introduce the two new students of Xavier Institute for Higher Learning," she gestured to the girl, "Oriana Magdalen and," she gestured to the boy, "Spiro Bishop."
Jean turned away from him and smiled kindly at the two, "You two can take the seats next Bobby," the brown haired boy looked up at his name.
The girl, Oriana, gave a bright smile and practically skipped over to her seat. The boy, Spiro, cast a suspicious glance around him, before creeping out of the shadows and slinking over to the seat next to his female companion.
"So what's your power?" Bobby asked, looking curiously at the two newcomers.
All eyes seemed to be on the two, and Scott had to admit, even he was a little curious.
Oriana's eyes seemed to sparkle slightly before she closed them and brought her hands up in front of her. She flexed her fingers and wove her hands around in intricate patterns, a slight frown coming to her face. Scott frowned as something in the air changed. Suddenly, molecules began forming out of nowhere, right between the dark-skinned girl's hands until finally a medium sized chunk of earth floated there.
"Woah," Bobby breathed.
Oriana opened her eyes, revealing glowing yellow, "I have the ability to control all forms of earth; dirt, rock, etc. Because the molecules that make up earth can be found in the air, I can pull those together to make my own earth when none is available to me," she said as the light seemed to fade from her eyes and the chunk of dirt in her hand seemed to disintegrate.
There were several seconds of silence before:
"What about you?" Bobby practically pounced on the silent boy beside Oriana, "What's you power?"
Spiro blinked and opened his mouth to speak, "He doesn't have one," Logan interrupted.
"What?" Bobby looked shocked.
Oriana snorted, "Just because your uber-fancy machine to pick up his powers doesn't mean that he doesn't have any," she snapped, glaring at the dark-haired man.
"Wha…?" Logan's mouth hung open slightly.
"I have powers," Scott jolted at the smooth baritone; Spiro had spoken, "I just choose not to use them. I dislike using them as they have done nothing but get me into trouble."
Bobby looked confused, "How could you dislike your powers?" he asked, "They're a part of you."
Spiro's scowl deepened and his eyes looked like chips of green ice, "I wish they weren't." He said shortly before falling silent once more.
There was nothing to say after that.
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Scott interlaced his fingers beneath his chin as he sat, cross-legged in bed that night. Oriana and Spiro could not more different.
Where the girl was carefree, fun loving, and an absolute jokester, the boy was stoic and bitter. The girl was always laughing or smiling, while the boy either scowled or remained absolutely emotionless.
Not to mention there was the mysterious flickering of his facial features and the way shadows seemed to cling to his body. At one point during lunch Scott could have sworn he saw Spiro's eyes flicker to green, wolf eyes; but the next moment it was gone, and he was almost certain it had been his imagination.
The bed dipped and he turned to smile at Jean as she leaned over and gave him a soft peck on the lips. They had, thankfully, gotten over the minor fight that had taken place at lunch.
"Hey," she smiled, "You looked far too serious, what were you think about?"
"The new students," he murmured.
"Ah," Jean sighed, "Couldn't be more different if they tried, Charles says they're brother and sister."
Scott frowned, "But they have different last names…" he objected.
"He thinks they might be aliases," Jean said, snuggling into his side, "Did you notice how they always kept certain areas of their body covered?"
"Oriana, her chest; Spiro, his neck," Scott murmured, wrapping an arm around her.
"Yes," Jean nodded, "Charles thinks they might be escapees from Britain."
"Huh?" Scott looked at her in confusion.
"Oh, I forgot, you weren't at breakfast today," Jean said, "Severus got a copy of that wizard paper, the Daily Prophet. Apparently wizard mutants are now being branded and sold into slavery; sometimes they're even killed, especially if they're too powerful…"
"Christ…" Scott swore.
"Yeah," Jean murmured, "The paper said…well it said that Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and…and Harry Potter are leading the movement against mutant witches and wizards."
Scot slowly closed his eyes, fighting the sudden urge cry.
"Hey," Jean pulled away and shifted so that she was in front of him, her hands resting on his shoulder, "Scott… Scott look at me," he slowly opened his eyes, "It's okay…if you want to cry, to rant, to…anything, I'm hear. Don't be afraid to show me your weakness, I will love you no matter what."
He let out a choked noise and fell forward into her arms, letting the tears fall; fall for his dead wife; fall for the son he had thought dead; fall for the man his son had apparently become. And Jean held him and whispered nonsense in his ears.
Never had he loved her so much.
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Spiro stepped out of the shower, white towel wrapped loosely around his thin waist. He had dropped all his glamour charms, allowing all his scars and physical manifestations of his powers to show.
He reached out and wiped steam from the mirror. His face and body was thinner than when it was under the glamour, his high cheekbones more prominent and hollowed. Jade seemed to fill every crevice of his eyes, leaving no white, and his pupils were thin and vertical. He leaned closer, opening his mouth and reaching up to poke at the sharp, wolfish canines.
A rather thick, jagged scar stretched across his the bridge of his nose, ending just beneath his the centre of his large eyes. His pierced ears were slightly pointed, and he could just see the slightly curved scar that ran from behind his right ear to the back of head.
He twisted his head to observe the black Mark on the left side of his neck. Rage coursed through him and the shadows of the bathroom seemed to rush forward.
Spiro jerked suddenly away from the mirror, staggering back into the wall and sliding down the slightly slick surface.
Pale, scarred hands came up to grip the black tufts of hair that were finally growing back in. Scars crisscrossed over his chest, shoulders, back, and legs, silvery lines marring the otherwise smooth, pale skin. Shadows flickered across his skin, licking at him, clinging to his very being. A taint he could never get rid of.
He breathed in harshly through his nose, his fingers twisting in the slightly curling, wet locks, yet another reminder of his capture, torture, and branding.
It was part of the 'dehumanizing' process of the branding. When the witch or wizard was brought in the first thing the Hunters did was cut their hair. For those with long hair his merely cropped close to the scalp; those with shorter hair were shaved. He had been one of the ones shaved.
He jolted at the loud wrapping on the door, "Spiro!" Oriana called from the other side of the door, "Come on, I need to get ready, I don't want to be late our first day!"
He scrambled to his feet and swung open the door, dodging the fist that came towards his face.
"Jeez Ori," he smirked, "No need to punch me, I'm getting out."
Oriana flushed slightly, "Sorry," she huffed before shoving passed him into the bathroom, "Thanks, dork."
Spiro rolled his eyes and stalked off to get dressed and get ready for his first day of classes.
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