Chapter 3: There's Always a Downside
Harry sat in the game room watching Pyro and Iceman taunting each other while playing a video game when he had the sudden, peculiar feeling of somebody trying to get his attention. He looked away from the screen at the group of teens in the room, but nobody seemed to be paying particular attention to him. Again he felt it, but this time accompanied by a vision of the Professor standing on a doorstep, knocking on a door.
Realization flooded him and with it, he heard the voice of Charles Xavier, "Would you please come to my office, Mr. Potter." Disconcerted, he nodded despite the man's inability to see him, Harry complied, getting up and heading towards the Professors office.
"You wanted to see me sir," Harry said without preamble as he entered the room.
"Yes, I did," Xavier answered, "I was trying to figure out a schedule for your training when I realized that I had not asked you what your plans were for the future."
"I'd like to return to my life in England," Harry replied quickly.
The Professor nodded, apparently having expected the response, "and what of the problem with controlling your mutation?"
"Honesty, sir, I'm still trying to adjust…so I haven't really thought it all through yet," Harry answered, "How long do you think it will take to learn to control it?"
"It's hard to say," Charles responded, "given your demonstration of control earlier today, I would venture a guess of a few weeks; a month at most. You should know, though, that as you grow into your powers, there may be further issues."
Harry grimaced, that was a lot longer than he'd hoped. The Hogwarts express would be leaving the next day which was hardly enough time for him to get home using Muggle transportation if he left right then. The idea that there could be further problems troubled him as well though he felt confident that Professor Dumbledore would be able to help him if there were.
"There are other issues we need to consider in getting you home," Xavier continued. "With your guardians' deaths, I understand that your only remaining relative is Logan."
"I have a godfather who wants to adopt me," Harry stated. "It's not that, that is to say Logan and I talked a bit and we're family, but we hardly know each other."
"So we'll need to contact your godfather then and figure out your custody situation and how to get you back to England being that you are in the country illegally," Charles stated.
"I hadn't considered that," Harry offered, "I mean, I have the money to pay for a ticket home; not with me of course, but…I suppose I could find an embassy, if there is one and…"
"That would raise questions that are not easily answered and would open my school up to scrutiny I would much rather avoid," the Professor retorted seriously.
"I don't suppose you have the resources to get me home without dealing with all of that," Harry questioned.
Xavier smiled slightly, "Being a mutant sometimes necessitates knowing the way around certain systems. I would suggest that we work on your control of your mutation and in the meantime enroll you in the appropriate courses. In the meantime, we can contact your godfather and arrange for your transportation home; I would also suggest we create a cover story as to your whereabouts."
Harry frowned, he had no way to contact anyone in the Wizarding world, and it didn't seem like Xavier would be willing to just get him to London and let him go. "There's a problem with that idea, sir."
Xavier cocked his head to the side, "how so, Mr. Potter?"
"I don't have a way to contact my godfather; he's a bit, umm, eccentric," he answered, "he doesn't have a phone and I don't know his address to send him a letter."
The Professor frowned, "surely there's somebody you can contact," he trailed off seeing Harry shaking his head, "More of your secrets, Mr. Potter?"
"This isn't exactly a picnic for me Professor," Harry replied with some heat, "I don't exactly like being helpless and reliant on people I hardly know."
"I can not help you if you won't let me," Xavier replied calmly, "I understand your desire to protect your secrets and your devotion to your ideals is to be commended."
"You can help me," Harry interrupted, "get me to London and I can take care of myself, or I can leave and find my own way back."
Xavier scowled slightly at the interruption, "as I was saying, your devotion to your ideals is commendable, but you must understand that trust goes both ways and that your knowledge of us could easily lead to our exposure." Taking a breath he continued, "That said, given your devotion to your own secrets, I trust that you will not betray ours."
"Can you get me to London," Harry asked evenly, understanding the point Xavier had made.
"Mr. Potter," the man began, "what kind of responsible adult and educator would I be if I dumped you in the middle of a city on the other side of the planet without any assurances as to your well being; let alone your education?"
"Can I go then," Harry asked, standing up.
"You are not and never were a prisoner here, Mr. Potter, you are free to leave whenever you like," Charles replied sadly, "shall I arrange for transportation to New York for you; I believe there is a British Embassy there."
Harry sat back down, conflicted as to what he should do. He realized he had no idea what to do if he followed through and went to the British Embassy; without a proper guardian, they'd probably ship him off to foster care or an orphanage; or even worse, Aunt Marge.
There was still the problem of his mutation being out of his control; he was unsure he could hide it for long enough to get back to England or what would happen to him if he couldn't. At the same time, he didn't dare break the statute of secrecy; the thought of Azkaban or even having his wand snapped terrified him. He was well and truly buggered.
"I don't know what to do Professor," he admitted in a defeated tone, "I can't get back home on my own; I can't tell you my secrets; and I have no idea how to contact anyone back home who could help me."
"Does no one you know have a phone?" Xavier asked, "even if you don't know how to contact them, I'm certain we can find a way to contact them." Harry looked lost in thought as Charles wondered if he should push the young man just a little more in the hope that he might confide in him any piece of information that could help. "Do any of your friends have phones?"
Harry's glum expression cleared, "Hermione! Her parents are dentists; they have to have a phone number."
Xavier smiled in triumph, "Do you know their names or where they live?"
The teen grimaced, "I know them as Mr. and Mrs. Granger; their daughter Hermione is one of my best friends. I know they're dentists in or around the London area; I'm afraid that's all."
"Do you know the name of their practice," Xavier questioned, hoping for something more to go off.
"Hermione told me once, but I can't remember;" Harry answered, "I know it has the name Granger in it though. Is that enough?"
"It may take some time and trial and error, but I'm sure we'll be able to get in contact with them," Charles replied, "and if we can contact them and through them your friend Hermione…" he prompted.
"She can get in contact with my godfather," Harry finished.
"While it's not an ideal solution," Charles admitted, "it's a start. In the interim, if you are amenable to it, I'd like for you to enroll in some of the classes in addition to figuring out how to control your power."
"Thank you," Harry said seriously.
"You are more than welcome, Mr. Potter," the Professor countered hoping that one day the stubborn young man might come to trust him enough to share some of his secrets.
"There is one other reason that I wished to talk to you this evening," Charles stated reluctantly, hoping the information he was about to share wouldn't damage the fragile trust that was slowly building between them.
"What is it Professor," Harry asked sensing his reluctance.
"Earlier this afternoon when you allowed me to view your memory, I became aware of some potentially disturbing information," Xavier stated.
"What did you learn," Harry asked accusingly.
"Nothing of your memories aside the one you allowed me to view," Charles soothed, "No, what I sensed was a psychic echo."
"What does that mean," Harry requested.
"It means somebody else has been in your mind;" Xavier explained, "given the eroded state of your natural defenses it seems likely somebody or more than likely multiple people has regularly invaded your mind, probably for years."
"Snape!" Harry growled, the menace in his voice sounding disturbingly similar to his grandfather.
Though he wanted to ask who this Snape was, the anger in the young man's voice deterred him, "I can help you build a defense against unwanted mental intruders," he offered instead.
Harry's eyes locked onto his own, seeming to glow with restrained power. Closing them, he took several deep breaths, visibly struggling to regain his temper. When he opened his eyes again, they looked normal once again, "Thank you, Professor, I'll consider your offer. Was there anything else we needed to discuss?"
"No Mr. Potter, have a nice evening," The Professor answered. After Harry left, Charles rearranged the teen's schedule leaving time for him to learn to defend his mind against psychic attacks.
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-
The next morning just after Colossus had left their room, Logan pushed open the door and leaned against the doorframe, "Time to go to work," he stated.
"What?" Harry asked, pulling on jeans and a shirt the school had provided.
"Your agreement with Chuck," Wolverine explained, "got your schedule right here," he held up a sheet of paper.
Harry grabbed the paper from the man and read it aloud, "Combat, math, computers, literature, physics, biology, history and culture, mechanics and Danger Room?"
"Sounds like he set you up with a full schedule," the man said with a smirk.
"I can't take all those classes; I haven't had normal schooling since I was ten!" Harry all but shouted.
"It's not that unusual around here," Logan responded, "most of the lessons are hands on and practical. You'll get the hang of it."
"So, I guess I have Combat first," Harry said in a defeated tone, "who teaches combat?"
Logan's smirk widened, "Yer lookin' at him bub; be glad you heal quick cause my class can get a little rough." For the second time in as many days, Wolverine disappeared, his laughter lingering in the room."
Ten minutes later, Harry had tracked his grandfather's whereabouts with his newly acquired powers to a cement pad behind the school. "You're early," he called to Harry when he spotted him.
"I didn't know how long it'd take to find you," Harry answered.
"Probably better you didn't eat anyhow," Logan replied. Five minutes later the pair were joined by twelve other teens. "Warm ups," his grandfather ordered. The group headed to a small shed converted into a locker room and everyone changed into what they called a judogi.
Once changed the group had stretched and jogged two laps around the grounds, before Logan began his lesson, explaining various ways to deflect frontal attacks, how to counter attack and the pro's and con's of those counter attacks. Harry found himself enthralled by the lesson; impressed by how his grandfather turned his experiences into a comprehensive lesson.
"With Fusion joining us, we've got an odd number, so somebody gets to pair up with me for the practical," Wolverine stated and to Harry's great surprise seven of the students instantly volunteered. "Psylocke, you're with me, the rest of you break up in these pairs and practice attack and defense: Iceman and Shadowcat, Pyro and Cannonball; Sunspot and Colossus, Rogue and Pixie, Siryn and Jubilee, Fusion and Cypher; oh and Cypher, take it easy on my grandson."
If anyone was surprised by that announcement, they were too focused on what they were doing to show it. The groups paired off, leaving Harry standing next to a short, weedy looking teen half a head shorter and easily a full stone lighter than he was. It was a novel experience for Harry who was normally the smallest in his age group.
The slight teen introduced himself as Doug Ramsey led Harry towards the shed again where they put on protective pads on their feet as well as gloves and leather helmets lined with hard foam. Now properly outfitted for sparring, Wolverine had them slowly walk through the various techniques he had shown them, getting their bodies used to the movements and learning which ones were best for their size and body types.
Harry and Doug took turns on attack and defense slowly working through the movements. Where Harry needed several run-throughs to understand the motions and mechanics behind them, Doug seemed to pick them up instinctively after having seen them performed.
"Alright," Logan called interrupting their walkthroughs, "that's enough practice, let's spar. Fusion, Cypher, you're up."
"I don't know what I'm doing," Harry whispered to Cypher.
"You'll bow to Wolverine, then bow to me, then we fight," the smaller teen explained as they entered a circle made by their peers.
As Cypher had explained, Logan had them bow to him, then each other before instructing them to fight. As soon as the man stepped from the ring, Cypher lunged forward, his fist striking the side of Harry's helmet before kicking Harry's legs out from under him. A kick to the chest as he landed on his back finished the blinding flurry of attacks.
"Point, Cypher," Harry heard his grandfathers voice call out, "Get up Fusion, this is best of seven."
Harry climbed to his feet, surprised but thankful that he wasn't feeling much pain. Dropping into the fighting stance Wolverine had demonstrated, he prepared himself. Locking his eyes on opponent, he waited and again the match started. Cypher, standing across from him, didn't shoot in this time and instead began circling.
Not wanting to wait for or invite an attack, Harry led with a leg kick, which Cypher checked before following it with a punching combination that was neatly dodged. Cypher shot in, having dodged to the outside of the blows. Harry ducked the incoming fist and threw a back elbow at his attacker. Cypher grabbed the elbow and used Harry's momentum to throw him off balance before a snap kick caught him in the ribs and dropped him, winded to the ground.
"Point, Cypher," Wolverine called again while Harry climbed to his feet, "Two to zero."
Harry was getting angry; he could feel his heartbeat thrumming through his body and the sound of his rushing blood filled his ears. Shaking his head, he took a deep breath and tried to focus. When Logan called for the fight to begin again, he felt, rather than saw Cypher's leg shoot forward and in that instant he regained his calm.
Concentrating on the techniques he had just learned and repeatedly practiced, Harry dropped below the kick, striking out with one of his own into the upper thigh of Cypher's planted leg. His opponent, suddenly finding himself literally without a leg to stand on crashed hard to the ground.
"Point, Fusion," Logan stated, "two to one."
Suddenly infinitely more confidant, Harry readied himself for the next round.
-~-~-~-~-
"Four to two in your first fight isn't bad," Logan said approaching Harry after the class had let out. "You made the mistake of underestimating your opponent or overestimating your skill, but you recovered a bit at the end."
"I've never really fought like that before," Harry explained, an icepack held against his now broken nose, "I was never allowed to fight back or I'd get punished."
"That's over with," Wolverine said simply, "From now on, if you're ever in a fight, I expect you to win."
Harry shook his head, "after seeing the way the others fought, I don't think I could beat any of them."
Logan slapped him in the back of the head, "that's why you practice. Any time you want, I'll work with you one on one."
"I don't want special treatment," Harry said, flashes of his life back home running through his head.
"It's not special treatment," Wolverine explained, "the offer's open to anyone, the only person who's taken me up on it so far is Cypher."
"Who's the best fighter in your class?" Harry asked suspiciously.
Logan laughed, "It don't work that way Junior, you have to take into account speed, size, strength, agility and a dozen other factors for every opponent; but for what you're asking, Cypher is the fastest. He doesn't have a lot of strength, but he uses what he has at his disposal as well as anyone in the class."
"I was afraid you'd set me up with the worst fighter," Harry stated, "well, at least until he kicked my arse."
"Cypher's good, like I said, but against somebody like Colossus, his sheer strength and size make it hard for him to get in any good shots," Logan explained, "I don't match those two up because Cypher can't take the big guy down and Colossus has trouble with Cypher's speed. Their matches last forever."
"Well, I've got some catching up to do," Harry said, "when can we set up some extra lessons?"
-~-~-~-~-~-
The rest of the day was frustrating; directly after combat, he'd had math followed by computers and Literature after lunch. While he hadn't considered himself a bad student in primary, he realized that his time at Hogwarts preparing only for life in the Wizarding world had been detrimental to his intellectual development.
While not ever having had parents' expectations to live up to, he got the distinct feeling after talking with his grandfather that the man would accept nothing less than his best effort in everything he did. That attitude and the support of the man he was ever so slowly starting to think of as family made him determined to rectify his flaw.
Harry arranged for tutoring in each of his classes, including those he hadn't yet attended. His class load doubled from four classes a day to four classes and two tutoring sessions on the weekdays with three tutoring sessions, private lessons with Logan and Danger Room practice on the weekends. The situation also forced him to reflect on just how little effort he really put into his education in the past and how much he used Hermione's hard work to get by. He vowed to himself that when he finally did get home, his new outlook would come with him.
"How was your first day at mutant high," the bubbly voice of Pixie intruded on his thoughts.
Looking up from where he'd been lost in thought; he marveled at how he felt her approaching and thus was not startled by her sudden outburst, "I think I'm in over my head," Harry answered, "It's been a few years since I last had regular classes."
"You'll catch up," She said brightly, sitting down next to him.
"You're an impossibly happy person, aren't you," he asked rhetorically causing her to giggle.
"I don't see the point in not enjoying every minute I can," she answered, "who wants to be all gloomy and brooding anyhow?"
"I do sometimes," Harry defended with a smile.
"Well, too bad; I want to talk to you right now," she retorted.
"Do I get any say in that?" Harry responded.
"You don't want to talk to me," she asked with a pout.
"I didn't say that," Harry stated, "so, what do you want to talk about?"
Her pout evaporated from her face as if it had never been there, "I wanted to get to know the new guy; it's sort of my job to get all the gossip. It helps everyone get to know your background without you having to answer a bunch of repetitive questions about your past," she explained, "besides, I like getting to know people."
Harry suppressed a grimace at the thought of questions about his past, knowing he wouldn't be answering them, and hoping that bubbly girl talking to him wouldn't push him for information he didn't want to share.
"So, let's run over what rumors I've heard and you can confirm that they're true," Pixie ordered. "You're from England, you were imprisoned for two months, Deadpool and Wolverine broke you out, you only found out you were a mutant earlier this week, Wolverine is your grandfather, and for some reason you haven't gone to school for a few years. Does that cover the basics?"
"I suppose," Harry admitted reluctantly.
"So, what haven't you gone to school?" She asked.
"Listen, you're nice and you're the only person outside of Piotr and some of the professors who's talked to me much when they didn't have to, but there are things I can't talk about," Harry said.
"Okay, what can you talk about?" She questioned accepting him at his word and moving on.
Harry, caught off guard by her easy acceptance, answered, "I don't really know what you want to know."
"We don't know a lot about your powers, how about that," she offered.
Harry smiled; that was something he could talk about; "Well, I can feel pretty much anything around me that has any sort of electric charge, which is pretty much everything."
"That sounds wicked! What else," she prompted.
"I can throw lightning, absorb electricity from any source I've tried so far and I heal very quickly," he explained.
"Oh," she said, "I thought Dr. Grey set your nose, but you weren't wearing a face guard or anything, so I guess that makes sense."
"Yeah, I guess it works better on soft tissue," Harry replied, "From what Dr. Grey said my nose would have healed on it's own in a couple of hours, but she wanted me to try to heal it faster. I did, but it was uncomfortable and I felt like I needed to absorb electricity after I did it."
"That sounds pretty handy, especially if you're going to do one on one combat instruction with Wolverine. Cypher was black and blue after every session for weeks," Pixie commented. "So, when you throw lightning, does it come from your hands, or like your eyes or something? Is it like a projectile or all like the Emperor from Star Wars where the lightning arcs from your hands into the target?"
"I've never seen Star Wars, so I don't know if it's comparable," Harry admitted, "I've never tried to channel it through anything but my hands, but I think I probably could. And as to if it's bolts or arcs of lightning, I can do both."
"That's so cool," Pixie gushed.
"Tell me about you," Harry countered, stopping the girl from continuing, "I mean I've heard you talking to your friends and you're a lot different then, you're less…"
"Less of an airhead," the girl replied with a smile. "I admit, it's a bit of an act; but with the pink hair and the pixie wings I have the best look to pull it off."
"But why, if that's not really how you are?" Harry asked.
"It's easier," she answered, "If people don't take me too seriously, they tend to tell me more than they otherwise would."
Harry nodded, admitting to himself that her act had helped draw him into the conversation. "They're not, you know," he said absently as he considered her words.
"What's not," Pixie asked.
"Your wings," Harry explained, "Pixie's have bat like wings."
"Okay," she said skeptically, "and how did you figure this?"
"I've seen pixies before; they're little blue flying demons who destroy everything they touch," Harry answered, "you look a lot more like a fairy, they're quite a bit smaller, but they have the whole multi-colored hair thing and similar wings to yours."
"Pixies and Fairy's don't exist," she stated, wondering if he was joking.
"Tell that to my friend Neville," Harry replied, "he hates those things."
"You're serious?"
"Yeah well," Harry stumbled to figure out what to say to cover his blunder, "there are more things in heaven and earth and all that," he said, quoting Professor Xavier's lesson on Hamlet from earlier in the day.
"Well, they were right about one thing," Pixie stated.
"Who was right about what," Harry pressed.
"I overheard Dr. Grey and Mr. Summers talking about you with the Professor earlier today," she answered, "they were saying were both interesting and confusing."
"I've been described as worse," Harry stated with a smile. "Now quit dodging the question and tell me about you; it's only fair."
"Well, I was born Megan Gwynn in a little town called Abergylid in Wales. My father was a coal miner; he died in a mining accident when I was nine. Mum didn't really know what to do with me when I sprouted wings and my hair turned pink, so when Moira showed up and told her about the school, she jumped at the chance. My best friend is Jubilee, I like to rollerblade and dance, my favorite class is math, my favorite food is barbeque ribs and I'm single; how's that?" The pink haired girl offered with a smile.
"I was born in London and lived in Wales until my parents were murdered when I was one. I lived in Surrey after that. My best friends are Ron and Hermione I miss them. I like to play chess, badly, spend time talking with my friends and spending time with my owl Hedwig. My favorite food is steak and kidney pie, I don't have a favorite class, and I've never dated," Harry countered.
"Now we're getting somewhere," Pixie said with a smile that quickly faded.
Knowing what she was about to ask, Harry pre-empted the question, "my parents were involved in a group that was trying to bring criminals to justice. They'd been trying to catch this particular person for a while when broke into our house and killed them. He tried to kill me too," Harry pulled back his hair, showing his famous curse scar, "instead he left me with this."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, "Did they ever catch him?"
Harry shook his head, "he went to ground for several years after that, but recently popped up and tried to kill me again."
"Why?" She asked.
"He considers me a loose end," Harry replied simply, "either that or he still holds a grudge against my parents. I don't know, he didn't really say when he was trying to kill me."
"Sorry, I didn't mean," she began.
"Don't worry about it, I'm used to it," Harry waved off her apology. "We're a barrel of laughs though, aren't we?"
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-
Saturday morning after his tutoring in physics and biology, Harry had his first danger room session. When he arrived, what seemed like the entire teaching staff and a couple of his classmates were waiting in the observation bay, wanting to see what he could do.
Having a basic idea of how things worked with the danger room from stories that he'd heard throughout the week, Harry entered the room and waited for his instructions. He almost felt nostalgic for having the need to ignore a crowd intent on watching his every move.
"Mr. Potter, we are first going to start with testing the electrical output your touch," Xavier's voice rang through the intercom system. A large metal box with two extended handles appeared in front of him; he'd tried to understand how that worked without magic, but Dr. McCoy's explanation was well beyond him.
"Please take the grips in each of your hands Harry," the genial voice of Beast sounded. Up in the control room, Jean Grey, Beast, Xavier and Logan looked at various readouts generated from the construct below. "He's fluctuating between ten and twelve amps at 3,000 volts," the blue furred man said in amazement.
"That's a lot then," Logan observed.
"It's a little more than they used to execute prisoners in the electric chair," Jean explained.
"A lot then," Logan repeated.
"Alright Harry, could you try to consciously increase your energy output?" Beast asked into the microphone.
Down in the Danger Room, Harry shrugged and concentrated on pushing the current in his body through his hands. It took him several minutes to figure out how to control his power to do that before he ultimately decided to pool his energy as he would if he was going to throw lightning. Very soon after that, he felt the telltale tingle and warmth spread through his fingers and hands.
In the control booth, Beast began to read off the results in astonishment as the readings rapidly built, "Okay Harry, pull it back and lower it as much as you can," Beast ordered as the needle was buried on both the amp and voltage meters.
Harry instantly released his control on the energy he had pooled in his hands and felt it dissipate back into his body.
"Alright, we're back to your base level, now can you try to pull back and reduce your output even more," Beast called over the intercom.
Harry frowned, unsure how to go about doing so. At his base level, as Dr. McCoy had called it, he didn't really feel the energy flowing through him. Still, mastering this was important if he ever wanted to have any semblance of a normal life.
Closing his eyes, he turned his focus inward, trying to feel for the energy that ran through him when he wasn't actively using it. For a few seconds, he thought he felt a slight tingle, but he couldn't pin it down.
Frustrated, he decided to change tactics and try to absorb whatever power was in his hands deeper into his body. Turning his new sense inward was an odd experience, but when he finally figured out how to do so, he was startled at how much energy he contained. As he tried figure out how to direct the energy within, he found that he was constantly absorbing the ambient power from everything around him.
It took Harry another minute to determine how to pull the energy from his hands into the core of his body, only as soon as he did, he began absorbing the power from around him at an even more rapid rate.
"You had it for a minute, Harry," Beast's voice called, "Let's move on to target practice."
"Beams or bolts," the young wizard asked.
"Bolts," Beast replied, "we'll start with stationary targets at ten feet." Harry instinctively dropped into one of the fighting stances Logan had taught him and began pooling his energy in his hands. "We're shooting for accuracy, not speed right now Harry," Beast reminded him just before the first target appeared.
Half an hour later, Logan was smirking as he listened to Cyclops complain, "100% on stationary targets; another 100% on level 1 and level 2 moving targets; 85% overall! That's better than I did in my first year of training."
"Don't you just have to look at something to aim," Wolverine asked helpfully, not fully suppressing a chuckle at the boy scouts glare.
Beast relayed the scores to Harry and the boy just shrugged, "I'll do better next time," he called back causing Scott's frown to deepen and Logan to laugh outright.
"Alright Harry, we're going to do a combat simulation now," Beast informed him; "We'll start with one opponent and increase the difficulty based on your performance. If at any time you need to stop, say so. We'll be monitoring your performance closely and if you are incapacitated there are safety overrides that immediately end the program."
"I'm ready," Harry said calmly, already pooling power in his hands. The gunmetal grey walls faded to black and in the blink of an eye it was nighttime and he was standing in the middle of a lush garden, huge shoots of bamboo behind him and statues of Buddha lining a gravel trail in front of him.
At the edge of his senses, he could vaguely feel the two groups who were watching his performance. Much closer he felt something foreign to him appear. Assuming it was his opponent, Harry began cautiously moving towards it. The being suddenly accelerated towards him, but despite knowing exactly where it was, in the dark he couldn't see it.
He moved out of his unseen opponent's path only for it to change directions, again charging straight at Harry. Reaching out for the beings energy, Harry clamped it in an iron fist and pulled. A spark lit up the darkness briefly illuminating a black clad figure, a ninja, as it fell to the ground.
Unwittingly Harry's mind flashed back to the graveyard, reminded of the black robes the Death Eaters wore as they appeared out of nothing. "It'll be different the next time," he whispered to himself, deliberately forgetting this was only a training exercise.
Two more ninja's materialized a short way from Harry. Knowing exactly where his enemies were, he maneuvered closer to the pair; two bolts of electricity erupted from his hands, he heard a shuffle near to where he was aiming. Concentrating on his senses, he found that one of his opponents was down, injured but still potentially dangerous, while the other had avoided his attack all together and was even now circling around behind him.
Cautiously approaching the downed ninja, he unleashed a tight beam of pure electricity; surprising himself by slicing the target in two. A kick landed in his upper back, only a split second before he noticed his attacker had approached him. Able to prepare himself, Harry rolled through the blow, finding his feet just in time to dodge the follow up attack.
He was on the defensive already. The ninja was too close to hit with lightning, Harry being too new in his powers to avoid telegraphing the move. Catching his opponent's fist, he was surprised when it gave a familiar jerk in his grasp. Grasping the constructs arm with his other hand, he pushed the energy through his hands and into the ninja until it dropped to the ground.
Even as the body of the downed enemy was disintegrating, another two opponents appeared behind and above him. He had only a second to dive out of the way, as he felt invisible projectiles flying at him. Despite his efforts to avoid it, an arrow, shot by his opponents tore open his right shoulder. Growling, Harry ducked behind one of the larger Buddha's as his shoulder knit itself back together.
Once the injury healed, he began his approach, weaving between the statues and dodging the occasional arrow, while building up the largest amount of power he'd ever channeled. The base of a bamboo tower appeared at the edge of his limited vision. Easily locating his opponents perched overhead, Harry eased around his cover and let loose.
A bolt of lightning as thick and long as a man's torso tore from his palms, the shockwave of the bolt threw him backwards and cracked the stone of the statue. Thirty feet away the structure exploded with a thunderous crack.
Blinking his eyes several times to clear the spots, Harry confirmed he had no active opponents and slowly stood up. The burning remains of what looked like a bamboo scaffold along with a bunch of scattered debris cast the garden in an eerie glow.
"I'm going to increase the level of difficulty of your opponents as well as their numbers," the disembodied voice of Beast came, startling Harry.
"Bring it on," Harry growled.
Up in the control booth Logan leaned of Hank's shoulder and suggested, "Two level three opponents with bladed weapons, and a level five."
"Are you certain," Beast asked, "while his performance thus far has been admirable, that is well beyond what he's faced so far."
"If anything it's below him," Logan answered with a frown.
Looking back at the Professor, the blue furred mutant noticed a grim look on the man's face before he received a nod of approval.
"It's about to get real kid," Harry heard Logan's voice warn over the intercom before three opponents appeared. Instead of grouping like his previous enemies, they immediately split up, two flanking him while the third stayed in place.
A bold of lightning shot from Harry at the stationary opponent only for it to disappear, reappearing quite a ways behind him. Simultaneously the other opponents changed the trajectory of their approach. Not content to wait for an attack, Harry concentrated and with a wave of his arm unleashed a wide arc of electricity towards one of his flanking opponents.
Between the firelight and the glare of his attack, Harry watched as the black clad figure leapt over the incoming bolt of electricity. A blow to the back of his head knocked him to the ground. Rolling into a defensive posture, he looked up at nothing; distantly he felt the third, stationary opponent materialize in its original position; of more concern, however, were the two opponents rapidly approaching his downed position.
Regaining his feet, Harry prepared for the attack he knew was coming until he saw that both his attackers were carrying swords, "Bugger!"
Harry dove forward into a roll below the blade cutting through the air towards him. Coming to his feet, Harry's right hand erupted into the tightest beam he could manage. Swung it at the closer of his two attackers, he had to fight the urge to gape when it cleaved his opponent's blade in half and continued through its torso.
Unable to recover quickly enough from the attack, he felt the bite of his second opponents blade as it dug into his lower back. Energy still pooled in his hand, he pushed it outward as he spun and struck his assailant as hard as he could with his charged fist. Screaming as the blade in his back twisted with his movement, Harry hardly noticed as his attacker crumbled to the ground and dissolved as all his previously defeated opponents had.
Harry gasped as he pulled the sword from his body, mingled with relief and agony. Shakily, he stood, a weak charge building in one hand and the sword grasped in the other. Not feeling his opponent across the room any longer, Harry spun, swinging the sword he held at neck height, catching his opponent and lodging the blade in its neck before it had fully materialized.
"Can I be done now," He asked, releasing the sword and staggering away in no particular direction.
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
"What the hell were you thinking," Jean Grey yelled.
Harry looked up from his cot in the medical bay at Logan in askance prompting the man to shrug, "Umm, who are you yelling at?" he asked.
"Both of you," she bellowed, glaring at Wolverine "you, having Hank crank up the difficulty during his first session in the Danger Room," turning her ire on Harry, she continued, "and you for not stopping the first time you got injured, let alone getting yourself stabbed!"
"Right," Harry said through a wince, "glad to have that straight."
"Keep talking funny guy, I'll take away your pain medication," Jean threatened oblivious to Harry shrugging in indifference to her threat as she stormed from the room.
"You alright," Wolverine asked after she'd gone.
"I've been through worse," Harry answered.
"That don't mean you're alright, that just mean's you've been hurt before," Logan countered.
"I'll be fine," Harry assured the man.
"That'll have to do," the gruff man stated, "I'll be around if you need me," he offered before he left.
Six hours later Harry woke from a healing sleep. Experimentally trying to sit up he found that aside from some residual pain and stiffness, he felt fine. Utilizing whatever sixth sense healers of all kinds possess to know when their patients are going to make a break for it, Jean Grey entered at that moment.
"You lay back down," she ordered, obviously not having completely calmed down yet.
"I'm fine," Harry countered.
"You were run through," the redhead reminded him, "you are most certainly not fine!"
"No, really, I am," Harry protested, "I have a little pain and stiffness, but nothing I can't handle."
"We'll see about that," she countered pulling on some rubber gloves. What followed was a fifteen-minute exam at the end of which she reluctantly pronounced him essentially healed. "You're lucky you take after Logan," she complained.
Methodically removing the various monitors attached to his body, she discovered that the IV that should have been pumping his pain medication had been pulled out. "Harry, how long has it been this way," she asked indicating the loose IV needle.
"I didn't like how it made me feel and you weren't around so I pulled it out before I went to sleep," Harry answered.
"How long ago was that?" She questioned in growing horror.
"When did Logan leave?" Harry asked, "Right after that."
"You haven't, you didn't, of all the," Jean spluttered, "What on Earth possessed you to do that," she screeched.
"I didn't like how it made me feel," Harry repeated, "it was like ice flowing through my veins. My body kept fighting that feeling, which meant I wasn't healing as fast," he explained.
"Why didn't you call me?" She asked.
"I didn't want to bother anybody," he answered, "besides, it wasn't that bad."
"What kind of pain have you been through that a stab wound isn't that bad?" she questioned rhetorically, "They're supposed to be one of the most painful wounds a person can feel."
"You don't want to know," Harry answered seriously.
"I need to know if I'm going to treat you," she protested.
"Leave it alone," Harry warned.
"I can't do that, Harry," she said gently.
"Well, I'm not about to tell you about it," Harry countered.
"Harry," she began.
"Leave it alone," he snarled.
"What's going on," Logan asked entering the room.
"It's nothing," Harry answered.
"It's not nothing," Jean objected turning to Wolverine, "he pulled out his IV!"
"I told you, my body was fighting it," Harry stated.
"But you could have called me," she reiterated, "We could have found something that your body wouldn't fight."
"Can we just drop this," Harry pleaded.
"No, we can't just drop this! I demand you tell me," she began.
"You demand?" Harry yelled, "I don't care what you demand, I told you to drop it, now bloody well drop it!"
Jean scowled at him, and then closed her eyes. Harry felt an alien pressure in his mind and realized what she was doing. Before he could protest, Jean fell to the ground, her scream ripping through the air.
"I told you to drop it," Harry shouted, tearing off the rest of the medical devices still hooked to him, "Do that again and you'll regret it a hell of a lot more than you do now." His piece said Harry stalked angrily from the room, ignoring her cries.
"Jeanie," Logan asked kneeling next to the woman, "what's the matter?"
"So much pain," she whimpered.
He easily lifted her from the floor and set her on the recently vacated bed. Looking around, he found a box of tissues and handed them to her before stepping back and waiting for her to compose herself.
"What happened," Logan asked in concern though he was uncertain for whom.
"I…I looked at his memories," she admitted, "I wanted to know why a stab wound that bad barely seemed to bother him."
"You looked into his mind when he specifically told you not to?" Logan asked, incensed. "If you had done that to me a few days after we first met, I would have killed you," the man stated.
"I know it was unethical and I wish I could take it back, but he's just a kid and I thought I knew better," she offered.
"Arrogant," Logan pointed out.
"It was," she admitted.
After several seconds of silence, his curiosity overrode his anger the redhead and he asked, "What did you see?"
"That's the worst part," she said with a humorless laugh, "it didn't make any sense. I heard a high pitched voice say 'Crucio' and then the memory exploded with pain beyond anything I'd imagined possible."
Her explanation not making any more sense to him than it did to her, he focused on what to him was the more pressing issue, "I'll talk to him; but if I were you, I'd avoid him for a couple of days, then apologize and not bring it up again."
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
"It comes so naturally," Harry began feeling Logan approaching his position on the floor of an alcove mostly hidden from view, "more so than almost anything else I've ever done."
Wolverine looked down on his grandson, sitting on the floor, idly manipulating an arc of electricity issuing from a nearby power outlet. One second the flow of energy was like lightning, forked and uncontrolled and the next it was a thin, straight beam, then a wavy line, before changing into something akin to the readout from a heart monitor; all the while, Harry never took his eyes off his own.
"Instincts are a part of being a mutant," Logan explained, "it's like being able to see or breathe."
"It's more than that to me," Harry countered, "and that's the problem."
"How is that a problem," the man questioned.
"Back home, I have so much to live up to and I never felt like I did. People expected me to be able to use my power like this; instinctually you know, and I never could." Finally getting a glimpse into Harry's background, Logan decided the only thing he could do at this point was to listen, so he slid down the wall across from his grandson and waited for him to go on.
Several minutes passed with only the strange hiss of the electricity dancing through the air before Harry continued, "I've been avoiding disclosing information about my past because I was afraid. There are rules and laws, and if I talked about it, I'd be breaking them and in return they could and probably would take the only world in which I'd felt any shred of belonging away from me. I've always said I just want to be Harry, nothing more, nothing less, but when it came down to it, I didn't want to risk what made me special because deep down I liked being more than just Harry."
A thick arc of electricity jumped from the socket with a loud crack causing Harry to smile. "Now, being here, it's the first time I've ever felt normal in my whole life. It's the first time I can just be me, just Harry, without somebody else's expectations determining who I should be. With the Dursley's I was just boy or freak, at Hogwarts I was the fabled Boy-Who-Lived or the Chosen-One, or the Gryffindor Golden Boy." Dropping his gaze, he whispered, "I don't know if I want to go back to that life."
"We're family; so it goes without saying that whatever you decide you have my support for what it's worth," Logan started, "Now, I'm not going to lie and pretend I understood what you're talking about, but it doesn't sound to me like you want to go back. What's waiting for you back there?"
"War," Harry answered simply.
"So why go back," Logan pressed.
"Could you," Harry countered, "could you leave it all behind knowing everyone you ever cared about, everyone you ever knew were facing the certainty of war. Could you abandon them to chance knowing that their association with you put them in danger? Could you endanger people who saved you, leaving them unprepared, knowing that eventually the war would find you? I don't think I can."
Thinking back to his multiple attempts to do just that and abandon the school and students only to end up right back where he started, Logan knew he couldn't any more than his grandson could; especially not if they were in danger. "I don't suppose I could," Wolverine answered, "I don't want to spill your secrets, Harry, but I'd like to get an idea of what they're capable of so we can prepare an appropriate defense or evacuation plan."
Unwilling to leave his hosts unprepared should the war come to their doorstep, Harry agreed. After making Logan swear not to reveal anything he learned without first clearing it with the Harry, the teen gave his grandfather an overview of magic, Wizarding culture, the main players in the war and when pressed, his own life and role in the Wizarding World.
Logan took some time to absorb what he'd just discovered. The idea that a group of people had developed similar powers over a period of centuries if not millennia wasn't difficult for him to believe nor was it hard for him to imagine that group essentially seceding from society at large and forming their own hidden world.
There was a sentiment among many mutants that it would be best for their own future to do the same thing, some smaller groups having already done so. At one point, the Professor had even believed that Harry was simply a part of one such collective.
No, the problem Logan had with what he'd learned from his grandson was why the kid wanted to go back at all. He'd keep quiet for now, but very soon, they would revisit this conversation and there was no question in his mind that The Wolverine would know the answer before the end of that conversation.