Burnt Genes

Chapter One

Awakened

"Get out here boy!" The monstrosity bellowed from the hallway. He was furious, and stinking drunk. He stunk of alcohol as he usually did when he went for a drink after a bad day at work. He looked angrier than Harry had seen him in a long while as he tore the door of the cupboard under the stairs open to glare in a raging temper at the small annoyance of a child hidden within the confines of the small space with barely any rags to sleep on.

Harry Potter was a small boy with a mess of black hair and stunning emerald-coloured eyes. He was the man's nephew, not by blood, but his Aunt Petunia never cared about him any more than his Uncle Vernon Dursley, if anything, she hated him more because she had hated her sister, Lily, Harry's mother. It never crossed her mind that if the rolls had been reversed that Dudley, her son would have been treated right. It never crossed her mind since the death of Lily and her husband James that she should take good care of Harry, and so she did the opposite out of spite.

Therefore, treating Harry right was the furthest thing from Petunia's mind, and certainly her husbands; if he had a mind of his own. After all Lily and James had been freaks, and therefore, Harry must be a freak too. He was, odd things happened; he healed what should have taken weeks or months in hours or days, and strange things generally happened around him, so they tried to beat it out of him, but that wasn't working. It never did cross their minds that if they stopped trying to beat it out of him it wouldn't happen in the first place because it was defending him as best it could, but the Dursley's weren't very bright.

It was Harry's birthday again. He didn't like his birthday. His uncle got drunk on Harry's birthday, and gave him a birthday present. Well, he called it that, but what he meant was a birthday beating. It was to teach him a lesson in being a scrounger, and how everyone, Dursley's especially hated scroungers. Even though the Dursley's forced Harry to do every single chore his small size could manage, alone! They still called him a good for nothing scrounger who ate their food for free when he had earned his fill, and therefore, he had to live off of scraps.

Harry had to wear old clothes that never could fit him properly, so he looked as if he was drowning in them. They once belonged to the Dursley's spoilt and massive son, Dudley. He was only a month older than Harry, but already eight sizes larger. Harry had to use string and tape to keep his trousers from falling down, and he refused point blank to touch any of that boy's underwear.

Vernon Dursley was a larger than large man, width mostly, but to Harry he was huge. He stood red-faced with rage, glaring hatefully at his freak nephew. He was holding a thick leather belt and sneering down at the innocent young boy. Vernon grabbed his skinny good for nothing house parasite by the arm, dragging him clear from his cupboard viciously yanking him and nearly throwing Harry into the wall while he yelped, whimpered and started to cry, which was natural for a small child.

Vernon's belt arm came up, and then with a vicious grin the belt slammed into Harry's face. The young boy cried out weakly as he fell to the floor. Vernon Dursley maliciously beat his nephew repeatedly with his belt, and occasionally kicking him as he curled up crying on the floor, blood leaking from his split lips. However, unnoticed by either of them was the faint markings within Harry's eyes as they shifted and lit up with a golden white light. However, Harry closed his eyes as he whimpered and cried, and through Harry's tears, and Vernon's drunken state, as the man enjoyed his nephews' pain, he wouldn't have noticed anyway.

Harry was all cried out, limp and seemingly lifeless by the time he was thrown back into his cupboard. He was bruised all over and bleeding but for his first ever birthday, his pain felt numb, and he was sure nothing was broken, or at least fully broken. He knew he was different. They called him a freak because he was different, but some day he knew he would know why he was a freak, and the Dursley's would pay.

He could taste the copper from his blood and felt dizzy, tired, and drained. However, no matter the heroes he had heard his cousin praise from the picture box, no hero came to rescue him. Though, in all fairness his aunt and uncle hated these freaks that popped up from time-to-time saving lives as much as they hated him. He didn't know who they were or why they did what they did, but he knew they were much better people than the Dursley's could ever hope to be.

Harry's anger at the Dursley's could only be surpassed by his anger for this Old Man. His aunt had ranted and raved many times about how much she hated this freak for dumping Harry on their doorstep and forcing them to take him in. Harry was quick to realise they were afraid of this Old Man, and he was also to blame for Harry's hell, laughing behind his back no doubt.

This Old Man. Harry knew he should look out for him. This Old Man deserved his hate, and Harry wouldn't forgive anyone who would love to see a child of any kind tormented and beaten by these monsters. He knew the old man knew how he was going to be treated. They had admitted that they wouldn't be watched, whoever these they were. Harry suspected they bowed before the evil old man the way his aunt said things, and Harry couldn't doubt her as he always knew when someone was lying; it was a gift.

Harry knew his damage would be gone in a few days if his aunt, uncle and cousin left him for long enough to heal; not that they would if they had an excuse to take out their bad lives on him. He wondered why he wanted to live so much. He certainly didn't get fed enough to at least say he was healthy. He was always hungry, and thirsty, and smelt bad a lot too, like blood and sweat.

He lay quietly on his rags healing, he could feel it, and thinking, well, that was all he ever had to do, wincing as he rolled over. He grit his teeth in frustration and anger. Someday he would be stronger. He could feel it coursing through his blood and for the first time he saw it. His vision suddenly came into sharp focus, and he could see unlike anything he had ever imagined before.

At seven, even for a genius seven-year-old boy, he could be considered smart, so he knew his eyes had been bad, very bad. His sight had been an annoyance, and other than pretending to be stupid as not to do better than his cousin he couldn't see the white board as he was forced to sit at the back of class out of the teacher's way. It was just as well as it was tiring and very hard to do worse than Dudley, and he preferred not to be beaten up by his uncle for cheating, because a freak can't be smarter than a moron.

Harry frowned and his little emerald eyes stared at his skin. It was dark in his cupboard prison, but he could see as clear as if it was day inside. He watched in amazement as his bruising faded and some cuts along his arms sealed up, and the pain vanished as if it had never been there. He felt strange as he looked to his right hand and saw a shine of white, like water, but not sparkle along his hand before going out.

He blinked his eyes a few times, confused, and everything went dark. Harry lay back, baffled, but shrugged it off as his imagination. He was just going mad, but then, maybe he had already gone mad, and maybe this was his punishment. Maybe he had never been sane, or at least not in his memory because he had been tortured insane, and couldn't do anything about that.

Frowning, Harry realised that the scar on his forehead had stung, and touching it he was surprised that it was bleeding whereas it wasn't before. Though, on further inspection, the scar had gone. That was weird, but what was more was the strange clumpy texture of the blood, and the odd smell and feeling. It felt like something had shrivelled up and died. It was like that time he watched his uncle snapped the neck of the baby bird Harry had rescued from a mean cat. He wiped the gunk away on some of his rags before he let his eyes drift shut and passed out from exhaustion.

The scar was certainly gone, as Harry noted the next morning, and Harry ended up with another beating as if it was his fault the scar the Old Man said was important to the freaks was gone. Harry did wonder about that, and how or why a scar on an abused child could be important, and if it was so why not protect Harry and not enjoy his pain. He would have to think on that more while he was beating the old man to death, maybe ask him. Though, Harry noted two things during the beating, and one was that, it didn't hurt near as much as he remembered, and two, he wasn't healing like before, but he was only bruised up, and had no cuts.

Harry had always looked fairly delicate, and though he hadn't grown by much, he knew he was taller, and his body was more defined. His mind raced with questions for which he had no one to ask. He wouldn't ask the Dursley's anything even if they wouldn't beat him for doing so. Perhaps in the future he could beat answers out of them, but he wasn't strong yet.

However, Harry did find it odd, but he never questioned the morality of his thoughts, and wouldn't for years, but to him life was a fleeting toy. He didn't feel that someone who made others suffer deserved to have him think twice about killing them. He honestly didn't care about the lives of people who would harm the defenceless and innocent as these people had.

When Harry had to learn to be so quiet that his family couldn't hear him, even while doing household chores he heard a lot of secrets. The Dursley's were by no means good to anyone else either, behind their backs at least. They said that Harry's parents were drunkards and died in a car crash, which he knew was not true, but finding out they were murdered by some freak was a shock.

Hearing about his parent's murder was startling, and more so that the murderer got away after trying to kill Harry. That added another person to Harry's growing list of persons for which to seek vengeance. The Dursley's didn't know much about the murderer, except he was a seriously dark freak.

Harry was coming to believe that freak was their word to mean something else entirely. He was certain there was much more to it than that. Harry hoped that someday soon they would mess up, just for a moment while he was within hearing range, and then he would know who he had to face. He was supposedly a hero to these freaks, and he wondered what that meant because he was certain he cared for these freaks less than the Dursley's did.

The worst thing Harry discovered about his present situation was that the Dursley's were being paid large sums of money to keep Harry alive and well enough to join these freaks someday. Harry took that to mean what he was sure it did. The freaks wanted Harry to see them as his saviours, which was a strange thought for someone as young as Harry to conclude, and Harry mildly wondered at his thoughts for a few moments. Harry refused to do anyone's bidding. It was too late. Harry would find out the truth. He had too, and then these freaks would pay, no matter how long it took him.

It was several weeks later and school had started again. The teachers as usual were the same. It was like magic hid the things that Dudley did and forced them to blame Harry for everything no matter the evidence to prove otherwise. The teachers only smiled when Harry fled from Dudley and his cohort of bullies. They cornered him down an alley between school buildings.

Dudley went in to punch Harry when he closed his eyes tight and wished to be far away as he really hated the way they taunted him as if he could fight back if he wanted to without a larger beating from his uncle. However, the beating never arrived and little Harry carefully pealed his eyes open. He didn't know where he was for a moment, but it was certainly far away. It was dark and creepy. It was cold and foreboding. It was the cupboard under the stairs. He had felt safe within the cold darkness of his prison enough that he fled there even with freakiness, but he now understood, he had power, and he had to figure out what it was and how it worked, and then he could leave.

The beating Harry had received for the freakiness was beyond anything, but Harry felt numb, and he felt that the bruises and fractures were finally worth it. Though, being beaten near to death took three days to heal and recover from, and he watched as he saw strange colours and numbers that looked like nothing he had ever seen before cover the world in lights and colours he had never thought possible, and that he couldn't quite grasp, as his body repaired itself, and then he woke up as if nothing had happened, so, maybe the lights were a dream.

Harry was back at school the next Monday with a headache. He couldn't remember having a headache before, not like this. He could hear every word throughout the playground. The voices were too loud and jumbled, but as he concentrated, he could zero in on certain people, teachers complaining about their students, students complaining about their teachers, and then more. He heard weird things from older kids and adults alike as they seemed to say one thing and then something else, sometimes the second voice contradicted the first, but no one seemed to reply to that – was it a more honest voice – was that normal?

His eyes flickered to his right, and Harry could see further than he would have thought possible as he zeroed in on a voice that was unfamiliar because he knew all of the men that taught at the school and he wasn't one of them, but he never moved his lips.

The man was scruffy and pudgy. He had balding brown hair, which was a surprise to Harry as the man wore a blue baseball cap, so how did he know that? The strange man wore blue jog bottoms and a grey hoody. His trainers were caked in mud, and there was a small red van with paint chipped off showing the grey primer underneath. The engine was not on but Harry could see inside the car and the doors were unlocked with the key in the ignition.

'Yes, which one this time?' the man asked himself, licking his lips, but other than that Harry frowned further as the man didn't say that, but at the same time he was certain he did. 'Yes, that little blonde is cute!' the man commented and Harry's eyes seemed to follow his thought as he watched an older girl wearing a white summer dress as it was a nice hot day; she was nine, and her name was April, yet Harry had never known that, and that confused him as he looked back towards the man.

Harry stepped back with wide eyes as he got flashes and images as he stared deeper within the man. He was horrid, rotten, worse than Harry's uncle if that could be believed. The man was a killer, not just that, but he was a child killer. He had killed before and he would kill again. Harry knew he would get nothing from saving April, but if he didn't, he would be no better than the Dursley's, or the old man, and he would never sink as to be so low.

Harry felt sick as he saw some of the images, and he would never be able to live with himself if April ended up like that before she was brutally murdered. He would think of her and the strange man's other victims' day and night. Harry needed to do something. He thought of the teachers but they would never believe him and after her kidnapping he would get the blame.

The stranger made his move as the girl and her friends neared the fence where he had parked his van. Harry could hear the man call them over, smiling, offering sweets. The girls were stupid. They took what the man called bait, and it took less than a second for April to be in his grasp. He covered her mouth so she couldn't scream and her friends were too shocked.

However, when the man turned to his car, holding April he was much more shocked to see little Harry standing in his way than Harry was as he had jumped like that before, it felt strange, like blinking through the world, moving through a gap or corridor through space. He had closed his eyes tight and wished to stop the man, so that he could save April, and be someone's hero whereas no one would be his, even if she would never appreciate it, he knew he could be her hero anyway.

"Oh, so you want to come too, do you?" the man asked, not seeing the symbols of golden white in Harry's eyes as he was angry, and for the first time he knew he could let his anger out, "might be fun to tape-."

Harry didn't know what he did, or what came over him when he rose his right hand out, as he could see the golden light lit up with white patterns and writing of words and letters, numbers and symbols that made no sense like he could see through into the man's mind and beyond, and just take hold. Harry could see the golden white light with two different patterns glowing through each of his eyes, reflected within the filthy man's brown eyes as they showed terror.

The man staggered back in shock and horror while his nose and ears started to bleed.

"Y-you're bad… horrid," Harry mumbled in fear before he closed his hand and blood leaked from the man's eyes to go with his nose and ears as he dropped to his knees, wide eyed with terror and a pain Harry knew he would never want to experience, as it was like he could crush the patterned lights without touching them as they connected to the dull light circulating the man.

April fell to the floor and scrambled away as the man collapsed to the ground, twitching and drooling before Harry passed out from exhaustion and could only hope that April got away. His head felt like it was on fire, as the strange lights disappeared from his sight and he was gone.

On the other side of the Atlantic Ocean Charles Xavier cried out in pain as he pulled off a stylish silver helmet from his bald head. He was gasping for breath and sweating while it took his usually calm blue eyes a few moments to focus back on his present location. He was wearing a cream-coloured suit without a tie and with the top few buttons left undone. He was in a large sphere chamber on a bridge in the centre with silver tiles surfacing the sphere.

"Professor, are you okay?" Jean Grey asked in worry as she stood next to where he sat in his wheelchair as he had been paralysed at a young age. She was a beauty at just fourteen years of age. She wore blue jeans and a red tee shirt. She had long crimson red hair to her waist and gentle green eyes that were worried about her teacher and mentor, as the professor was a great teacher for someone like herself who had a similar power, but turned up a few levels.

"Yes, Jean, thank you, I think I'll be okay!" he said, calming his breathing, "but that boy… I must find him, and soon before anything else-."

"Professor?" she asked, worried.

He nodded his head and offered her a comforting smile before he looked away with a grim frown. "I found a small boy of six or seven. His abilities have awoken so soon. He's psychic, and gifted too, when he is older, he'll be a force to be cautious of. He just shattered a man's mind, and that is what he did while a child with no education in using his abilities. If he learnt to harness this power for someone who does not care for his well-being or that of others while he is an adult…" He left the rest to her imagination while she looked horrified.

"Oh no, but what about the man, could you fix him?" Jean asked uncertainly.

Charles shook his head, frowning, "no I could not, and you should not show him too much pity as the young boy, Harry if I'm not mistaken, stopped him from kidnapping a nine year old girl," he said which caused her to gasp in horror, as he didn't believe in sugar coating such important details as they could get his students and friends hurt, and he would rather worry them with the truth rather than having their minds wonder, worry, panic, or everything and more, getting aggravated that they got hurt searching for the truth themselves. "I had detected the boy when he started… I'm not sure whether he heard people's voices or their present thoughts while they spoke, most likely the latter, and then he noticed the man in question and seemed to start… possibly reading into him-."

"So… are we going to try and find him?" Jean quickly interrupted in concern. "He has to be a good kid if he saved someone, right?"

"I'm not sure he understands the concept of right and wrong the same way we do," he said calmly, "but we need to find him soon before he kills his family in another outburst."

"But why would he-?" she trailed off as the professor gave her a concerned look that she knew all too well what he meant. It may have been different, but Jean's mother and father didn't want her after they knew what she could do, but looking at the Professor she knew this kid had it a lot worse than she ever had, and she didn't need her mind reading power to see that, and that made her want to find the boy and hug him tightly.

Jean was a psychic too, so they had that in common, and she could be there for him. So, their powers were likely different in different ways, she could help him like the Professor helped her. It would be nice she reasoned, like having a little brother as she didn't know any other mind readers to adopt as her little brother or sister.

"His parents are dead," Xavier said, bringing her mood down a little. "He lives with his aunt, uncle, and cousin somewhere within a county outside of London in England, but I couldn't say where as at the time I was concentrating on him more, and trying to find him again could be trouble if he senses me and freaks out. He is just a scared child, and he needs our help."

"Right, so let's get on it!" Jean agreed, determined and pumping her right fist in the air, already planning what she could do to make Harry happy. Maybe she could take him to the park, and cinema, and out for fast food, and maybe Scott would tag along too. She hoped they both got along if Harry was going to be her new little brother, but of course they would.

Xavier smiled slightly as if he knew what she was thinking even without having a peek at her thoughts as he knew she would have loved a sibling to pamper.

"It looks like we'll have to find Harry the old-fashioned way," Charles said, which brought her down a bit.

"I think I'll be able to sense him if we get close enough," Jean said with a reassuring smile.

He nodded his reply, "yes, I was thinking the same of myself, so we'll leave Logan here, and you me, Storm and Scott should go-."

"Right - let's go!"

"Get out here boy!" bellowed a very angry voice from the hallway.

Harry whimpered and groaned. He barely remembered what happened at school. He knew he had done something bad to that man, and he couldn't find it in him to care.

'I'm going to kill the freak, this time.'

Harry paused sitting up on the rags as he heard that voice. It came from within his own head. His uncle was serious. He had a huge cricket bat too. Harry could see it while not seeing it in person before the door to the cupboard was wrenched open, and Vernon Dursley leered down at Harry in rage with a huge wooden cricket bat held in his right hand.

"Do you think you can get away with ruining our lives, filthy murdering freak!?" Vernon demanded in a rage as Harry screeched as he was dragged from the cupboard before he could even try that blinking away thing, and he cracked into the wall as he was swung by his ancle. "I've finally convinced your aunt to let me get rid of you now you're a murderer, boy!" he said in absolute joy. "Those freaks won't do anything… the Old Man is just bluffing!"

Vernon chuckled as he looked down at the boy with a sneer. "That's right. This freak like you has been threatening us to keep you… we can do whatever we like but you must live. Well, I say tough luck you disgusting little freak!"

Harry gulped while scampering back down the hall towards the kitchen, but the corner of the bat slammed into Harry's head full force. Then the bat slammed into Harry's ribs, lifting him from the ground and slamming into the doorframe before the bat crashed over Harry's back again and again, slamming him down, but with each hit, Harry almost felt nothing but the force keeping him from moving. It was like he felt the bat, but it didn't cause him the same sensation of pain. He wondered whether that was because he was dying, but no. Harry rolled over once the behemoth paused his assault, and looked at Vernon as the walrus of a man showed fear of Harry for the first time.

Harry could see the connections. The patterns. He could hear the fear and see the lies. However, before Harry could grasp the colours and light as his eyes lit up, Vernon grabbed him by the old tee-shirt and slammed him into the door frame over and over until the shirt broke away and Harry landed on the floor in what should have been a broken heap, as the force was enough to shatter the wood.

"You freaky little MONSTER…!" Vernon roared in horror as Harry was covered in bruises but he just pulled himself up to his knees and glared those strange eyes at Vernon, and then stood.

"Boy, just DIE!" Vernon screamed as he charged at the seven-year-old.

Harry stumbled back, fully into the kitchen until he backed up into the breakfast bar and without thinking grabbed a stool and picked it up with seemingly no effort, and slammed it into Vernon's face, and it shattered as the huge man went down, crashing into a side unit covered in blood and blurrily watching Harry look down on him as he slumped.

Harry just stared at his mangled and whimpering uncle in awe, as he looked like the hit had even broken one of his arms. The small piece of remaining stool slipped with a clutter through Harry's fingers, as the Vernon Dursley looked up at him in fear. Harry for the first time in his life relished in the misery of someone who caused him so much pain.

'It looks like I'm not the weak little freak anymore doesn't it, uncle?' Harry didn't speak often, and when he did his soft voice was croaky and strained, and it hurt. He had been taught that talking could net him a beating. However, here, Harry's voice was soft and cool, and with a confident flow he had never knew he could ever achieve, but he didn't move his lips, and he could see Vernon heard him, so continued.

'I hate you!' Harry projected softly just as the water pipe burst from the cupboard Vernon had crashed into, soaking the man, and drenching the kitchen, but that wasn't enough.

'I HATE YOU!'

Harry roared with such rage it was like the world should have been able to hear it as windows and glass throughout the house shattered with bricks and plaster cracking and buckling. It looked like the house was moments away from collapsing as the ground shook just for those three words, but settled once the echo left Vernon's mind and his ears bled, and he had tried to block out the sound even ignoring his broken arm and crying, with tears blubbering from his eyes.

'I… I never want to see you again,' Harry finished while feeling emotionally drained and tired.

Harry then turned around and quickly pulled on the locked backdoor, and it buckled and shattered as it fell from its frame as Harry moved from where the door fell. He looked up at the stars, as he walked into the cool darkness of night, which was something he had done many times now because his aunt only let him garden at night. Though, thinking about that, that should have seemed odd if any of the neighbours cared, which they probably didn't.

However, now Harry was free, he could leave, to see the stars whenever he wanted, from wherever he wanted, and to really be able to see the sun would be a wonderful miracle. He could feel the world, and everything, the way everything interconnected as he reached out. It was with a start that he finally realised he felt something off, and looking around his eyes widened in shock and awe, as he dropped slightly before righting himself as he closed his eyes and calmed his senses as he couldn't quite understand everything, he could feel all at once, so he concentrated on the freedom he felt in that moment.

He was floating above the rooftops of the houses lining the street. Harry felt so free as he felt the sky, and had to keep his cool, to feel the flow of the air as it thickened around him, gently buffering him in the air. It was like a how he imagined a home should be. It felt so delightful, like when his aunt couldn't stand his smell any longer and allowed him five minutes in the shower. Though, she wouldn't let him use hot water, but it was still so free. It was as if the very air of the world had wrapped him within its warmth.

Harry carefully leant back to lie in the air, and opened his eyes to look at those stars twinkling away, so free, so incredible, so bright and dull, some young, and some long since dead. He realised he was free. It happened then, for the first time ever, Harry James Potter smiled before he felt the wind like an obedient slave, willing, needing, wanting, begging for his control, and with that, Harry shot off higher into the sky with a gentle shockwave and a boom. It felt so natural, so easy, like moving his arms or legs, or maybe like invisible wings that curled from every part of him.

Then with a whoop for joy, Harry blast off not caring where he was going as long as he was free from the Dursley's. Harry pushed faster, and with a sonic boom, he was shooting off and away, forever free.

Harry hadn't flown too far. He honestly didn't know where to go. He had landed in a huge dark park somewhere. He wasn't sure where but he was thrilled with all the large trees he had pushed down or torn out with his power like he could reach out and do anything he pleased, and even without a top or shoes or socks, just a pair of bloody shorts he wasn't cold.

It took Harry a moment to see he had ventured near a large cliff as he could smell something salty in the cool air and heard the rumbling of water and was soon looking out at the ocean leading into a river in the distance.

Looking back to the few trees he fell just to test his strength Harry felt bad for them, like he was like his uncle, a bully. No, Harry would be nothing like him. Harry would never torment innocent kids, and looking closer he felt thankful that he had pulled the trees out by their roots. He knew what he needed to do from all of his forced labour in the Dursley's garden.

Harry smiled softly at this as it felt natural to just pick up each tree, as his power slid around them with such gentle care, and replant them. It was a little tricky patting the dirt down while making sure the trees didn't fall or tilt back down, but he felt as if the trees could have been helping him, and appreciate what he was doing for them. It made him feel so much better setting right the mess he made by replanting those trees.

After Harry had finished, he sat holding his knees up to his chest, shivering a little, but not really feeling the cold, and he looked out to sea. Harry didn't know how he knew, but he just did, but the sun would show itself from the direction he was looking when the morning came. He waited and waited, keeping himself awake for hours when he first saw a glimpse of it. He saw reds, yellows, and oranges before that stunning halo of green. Harry had to shield his eyes when the green faded away and the world around him brightened brilliantly.

Harry was mesmerised by the heavenly sight and felt privileged to see this magnificent sight. It was spectacular, amazing, and other words he didn't know yet, his jaw was wide open in delight, and it was a sight he would never forget, as he saw beyond, and realised the connection. That big ball of gasses was like the Earths heartbeat, and without it nothing would live.

However, Harry suddenly jumped to his feet startled as he heard some kind of blasting of air and looked around until finally up. Harry's eyes widened impossibly as he saw a sleek black aeroplane then coming down from the sky behind him in a large clearing. It opened at the bottom and wheels came out as it touched down, its engine cutting out.

Harry watched the strange craft cautiously as he heard voices, and was readying to run away at any moment for a minute or so when some side doors opened and a ramp lowered. He watched as a white-haired black woman walked down with a bald guy in a wheelchair and a red-haired girl behind them.

The red-haired girl couldn't contain a gasp as she looked at Harry with her eyes wide in horror as she saw the bruises that hadn't quite faded yet, but they didn't hurt. He looked down as he heard their thoughts, just the man and black woman hid their distress much better.

They moved cautiously closer to Harry before stopping and the black woman gave him a kind smile, but he could kind of hear their thoughts, and turned to the man as he was trying to calm him with some kind of power, but they didn't seem to mean him any harm, so he chose not to flee for now, as he was rather curious.

"Hello there, child," the woman spoke with such a soft and kind voice that Harry had never known anyone could use such a nice tone with him. "My name is Ororo Munroe, and this is Professor Charles Xavier, and Jean Grey, a student of ours."

'Student?' Harry asked softly without moving his lips, and they each shared a look but otherwise didn't comment. However, Harry seemed to have perked up a little, and looked the red-haired girl over in surprise, his expression blank but his eyes told of his curiosity while they were lit like tiny dulled lamps behind them with soft golden white hairlines crossing through the pixilation of the emerald green.

'You really go to school?' Harry asked gently as he looked towards the girl. 'School would have probably been fun if I didn't have to pretend to be stupider than my cousin… it wasn't easy.'

"Well, I go to school, and my teachers are great," Jean said with a soft smile, as it was strange with how Harry chose to communicate but the Professor had told them in a similar fashion to not say anything about it, and that made her more cautious to not dare entering Harry's mind even by accident. She didn't need to upset him as he looked like he had been through a lot already, so he needed them to look after him.

"Would you like to go to a school like that?" Jean asked him looking hopeful.

Harry nodded quickly before stopping, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. 'My aunt and uncle would never allow such things for a freak like me,' he commented nonchalant making them wince before he seemed to start, his look, thoughtful. 'But those scum…!' he said hoping he used the bad word correct, 'are of no care to me… I hate them,' he said those last three words with a small smile as he swiped his right hand to the side and the air cracked with a boom, which startled them.

"You won't have to see them again," Charles quickly said with a comforting look. Harry felt the man's presents and it was calming, and a moment later the man looked surprised as Harry had ejected him while looking confused. 'I am a telepath, Harry…' the man said as he projected his words into Harry's head like Harry was to them, to Harry's surprise. 'This means I can see inside someone's mind, and I can even help for someone to calm. Though, you have pushed me out. I try my hardest not to read people's minds if it can be helped. However, if I could please ask that you not use your powers with such a lack of care before you accidently hurt someone you do not wish too?' he asked, projecting to the other two so they could keep up too.

'Oh,' Harry replied looking thoughtful. 'T-this is how you know my name, and how you-you found me… are you here to take me away for killing that disgusting man back at school?'

"No," Ororo said kindly as she crouched down a little to be more eye to eye with Harry. "We came here to help you. Professor Xavier opened a boarding school long ago to help people like us… special people with special abilities. I myself can control the weather, and Jean's powers are similar to the Professor's but she can also move things with her mind… more similar with your powers I suppose you could say."

The woman paused as the red head made gentle gestures with her hand and a hand sized stone levitated in front of Harry to his surprise. He was awed as he waved his hands around it checking for strings. Jean giggled a little as she watched this and Harry let a small smile align his lips as he plucked it out of the air and felt its weight.

'I… I can do stuff too,' Harry said as the stone floated up above his hand and shattered into dust that drifted off into the wind. 'I can even fly… it was so fun, but I… I thought I was the only freak… but you can do freaky things too?'

"You are not a freak," Jean suddenly said commandingly. "We're just different… we're… we're more than just normal humans now. There is nothing wrong with us, and there is nothing wrong with you. You're just a little kid!"

"What happened to you little one…?" Ororo interrupted as Harry had never been told off with such a tone before.

It was worried, and concerned… for him.

Harry looked to her and frowned. 'My uncle got fed up with me… he called me a murderer… I had never been hit like that before, with a huge cricket bat,' Harry said with a shrug while they could only show horror. 'He said that THE Old Man had threatened them to keep me for these freaks… I don't know how, but he did, for them to keep me alive, but didn't care about anything else. I hear this Old Man left me on their doorstep the day after Halloween when I was about a year and a few months old, and it was really cold or something, in the middle of the night. I'm going to find him some day and snap his neck like a twig!

'My uncle tried to kill me because I'm a freak…' Harry spoke whimsically as he had his first ever grin, but it held so much sadness, but more importantly fear and heartache, his eyes alight with golden-white markings, each one a differing pattern but none of them could comprehend them enough to describe them as more than golden-white markings. 'He beat me and beat me and beat me, and then… I smashed him into a wall with a stool. He was hurt and I hope he dies!' he spat out viciously.

However, he hadn't seen it coming. He had been too distracted by his own anger and hate to see her. Jean had moved and hadn't hesitated in wrapping him in a huge hug pulling him into her arms while she dropped to her knees. Harry had tensed and almost threw her off him, but no, he relaxed. She had never hurt him. She never would. She was so warm and soft. This was… he never knew how warm it felt to melt into a kind and loving embrace.

Harry felt hot tears flowing from his eyes down his cheeks and couldn't stop the shaky breaths as he tried to calm himself down. "Harry," Xavier gently interrupted but Jean didn't let him go. "We want you to come back with us, to my school where you can learn to control these gifts of yours, and learn all sorts of things children need to learn, where you can make friends."

Harry sniffled a little more as Jean pulled back giving him a reassuring smile. Harry nodded as he wiped away the tears on his arm trying not to look as weak as he felt. Harry nodded again and allowed Jean to lead him onto the aircraft leaving Xavier and Ororo to slowly bring up the rear. Though, Xavier stopped her for a moment and she looked at him in confusion.

"Harry's powers have not long fully awoken," he said to her in seriousness. "This old man Harry spoke about… I can just barely see him placing Harry on a doorstep with a smile before Harry ejected me. Harry's memories of that are limited as he was injured and fading in and out of consciousness. He seems to have been attacked by… I don't know… it was possibly a mutant. His last memory of his mother is his strongest. It was of her dying by a green light!"

"Maybe his parents were both mutants and his aunt and uncle know and hate him for it," she replied in thought. "It's reasonable for anyone to assume that two mutants having a child together would give birth to a mutant."

"I'm not so sure that's it," he replied thoughtfully. "I believe it may be something much more than that. It would be best to take the children back to the mansion for now, and we should return sometime during the next month after doing some research and speak with these… Dursley's, to find out the truth."

Ororo's sparked with white lightning as she smiled. "And I do despise child abusers!" she spoke rather hatefully. "After all the mutant children we have found to have been mistreated, abused, or just used for their powers."

Xavier nodded his head in sadness. "It gets worse as the 'normal' humans start to notice… the human race is evolving, and those left behind start to show how petty and jealous they are… even of their own children… we have to be understanding, so that one day we can be understood, but sometimes, I wish I had a more destructive power."

Ororo smiled a little and nodded in understanding as she helped the professor onto the jet and she smiled as Jean had strapped Harry into a seat next to her and he was cuddled up into her arms where she kept him warm and gave him his first ever taste of love and affection.

to be continued…

Authors Note: thank you for reading. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter enough to leave a review, but also, favourite and follow. For those who might think it seems somewhat familiar. This is me completely overhauling a story I started back in 2008, and trying to do something with it again rather than letting it rot.