It's...an update! :D

Chapter 3: Memories Revisited

November 22, 1994: While Remus and Rogue got to know each other, Charles was busy contacting anyone he could think of to help restore Logan's memories. He had hoped to find a scientific solution to the problem, but with each phone call he made, it seemed less and less likely that he would. Finally, as he reached the last of his scientific and mutant contacts, he decided it was time to branch into the magical. He left his office and rolled down the hallways to his room, informing his teachers via telepathy that he was not to be disturbed for the rest of the afternoon.

Once in his room, Charles lit his fireplace and took a small jar of green powder off of the mantle. "Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress' Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland," he cried as he threw a pinch of the powder into the flames and stuck his head in.

He'd forgotten how odd it felt to have your head travel through the flames whilst your body remained stationary. When his head came to a stop, he found himself staring at a neatly furnished office overlooking spacious, snow-covered grounds. "Hello? Minerva?" he called.

Minerva stepped into view in seconds. She was a tall, stern-looking witch who wore her greying black hair in a tight no-nonsense bun. Her robes were green tartan and upon her small nose perched a pair of square spectacles over sharp, dark brown eyes. "Hello Charles," she said, her Scottish accent as thick as ever. "How may I help you?"

"Hello Minerva. I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time? I have a situation at my school that I believe may need some magical intervention."

Minerva gazed sternly at him over her spectacles. "Charles, the school year has only just begun, as I'm sure you are aware. I cannot just up and leave my students without notice." Charles' face fell. Minerva sighed. "Give me an hour to get things in order and I'll come through. I'll give you two hours, Charles. That's really all that I can spare at this time."

"That will be plenty, Minerva, thank you," said Charles.

Minerva nodded tightly. "You're welcome. I will see you in an hour."

XXXX

As always, Minerva McGonagall was prompt. An hour to the second after their conversation, Hogwarts' Transfiguration Professor stepped out of the fireplace into Charles Xavier's bedroom. "Good afternoon, Minerva," said Charles, smiling at the stern witch. "Thank you for taking time out of your busy day to stop by."

Minerva straightened and brushed the soot off her skirts. "Of course, Charles," she said, her voice clipped and crisp. "What is it that you need my help with?"

Charles wheeled himself over to his window and indicated that Minerva should take a seat on the dark grey couch sitting beneath it. "I have asked you here on behalf of one of my teachers; a friend who has had his memory tampered with. I have exhausted all of my other resources in searching for a way to cure him; you are my last hope, Minerva."

Minerva was silent for a moment. "I'm not sure what you expect me to do, Charles," she said tartly. "I have no particular affinity for memory charms, nor for the healing arts, nor would I claim so. My specialty is transfiguration; you know this."

Charles sighed. "I know, Minerva," he said. "I also know that you are an intelligent woman who can help me find the proper path to take to help my friend."

"You're such a flatterer, Charles," she said dryly, squeezing his hand gently. "Of course I will do my utmost to help. What are friends for, after all?"

Charles chuckled. "Indeed, Minerva," he said, "and I am very lucky to count you among my closest."

"Quite," said Minerva with a sniff that might have been covering a laugh. "Now, may I meet this friend of yours, Charles, or am I to cure him without ever meeting the man?"

"Certainly, my dear," he said. "I've just asked him to meet us up here. I hope you don't mind; I'd rather your visit be kept a secret from the rest of the school for the time being."

"Why Charles," she said with a wry smile, "if I didn't know any better I'd think you were ashamed of me."

"Never, my dear Minerva," he said, placing a genteel kiss on her hand. "I only want to keep you all to myself."

"Such a charmer," Minerva said dryly.

The old friends' playful banter was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in, Logan," said Charles. Minerva stood up as the door opened. "Logan," Charles said, wheeling himself over to the door, "I'd like you to meet my old friend, Minerva McGonagall. Minerva, this is Logan; he's a professor here at my school."

Minerva was impressed when Logan didn't quell under her scrutinizing gaze. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Logan."

"I ain't no mister," he insisted gruffly. "It's just Logan."

"Very well, 'just Logan,' you may call me Professor McGonagall, or Minerva, if you must."

"Logan," interrupted Charles, fearful of how Minerva would react to what the gruff mutant planned to call her, "Minerva is here at my request to see about helping you get your memories back."

"Look, Duchess, I don't know what you think yer gonna do ta help me, but it's all been tried before. So unless you're gonna wave some magic wand—"

"That, Logan, is precisely what I plan to do."

Logan looked sharply at her. "What're you talking about?"

"Logan," said Charles slowly, "there is a whole other world out there; one that exists alongside our own. It is a world of magic, of witches and wizards and fantastical magical creatures that you have only heard of in fairy stories. They are all very real, but very well hidden from the prying eyes of the magic-less."

"What the hell're you talkin' about, Chuck," snapped Logan, narrowing his eyes. "Fairy stories and magic ain't real."

"They most certainly are, Logan," said Minerva, giving the older man a stern look over her square spectacles. "Charles here was nearly as skeptical when he found out, but he quickly accepted the truth."

Suddenly in place of the Scottish woman, there was a tabby cat with markings around its eyes that looked like Minerva's glasses. "Holy mother—" yelped Logan, jumping slightly. "What the hell?"

The cat morphed back into the severe, black-haired witch. "That, Logan, was magic," said Minerva tartly. "Magic can do many things that science cannot."

"So what, yer gonna do some magic and bibbid-bobbidi-boo I'm cured?" snapped Logan.

Minerva sniffed imperiously. "Of course not," she said. "I am going to perform some basic tests to see if I can determine the cause of your memory loss and then I will call in an expert according to your needs."

"So yer not just gonna start pokin' around in my head?"

"I'm not a barbarian, Logan," she said. "The mind is a very delicate thing; one slip and you could be spending the rest of your life as a vegetable. Now, Charles, why don't you and Logan head down to Dr. McCoy's lab and I will join you shortly."

"Whatcha got ta do that's gonna keep you, Duchess?" snarked Logan. "Gotta powder yer nose?"

"Certainly not, Logan," sniffed Minerva. "I am a tenured professor, not some giddy schoolgirl with a crush. Have care how you speak to the woman about to go poking around in your head."

Logan winced. "Sorry Duchess."

"Apology accepted. Now you boys head on down."

"What are you up to, Minerva?" asked Charles, quirking an eyebrow at his friend on his way to the door.

"I think you know, Charles."

"Ah, yes. Well, tell Erik I said hello."

"Of course. I will be down shortly."

XXXX

"Charles! Logan. What can I help you with today?" asked the large blue-furred man standing in front of a sleek, futuristic computer screen.

"Hank, if you wouldn't mind setting your machines to do another scan of Logan's brain, we have someone coming down to take another look," said Charles. "She may be able to help Logan with his memory troubles."

"Of course, Charles," said Hank, already moving around the lab with the familiarity of long practice, flipping switches and entering codes. "May I ask who you've brought in for this consultation?"

"That would be me, Henry."

Hank spun around and grinned wide, exposing his glistening white fangs. "Minerva McGonagall," he said fondly, "it has been far too long." He stepped forward to give her a gentle hug. "How have you been?"

"I've been well, Henry," she said with a genuine smile. "How are you?"

"Things have been looking up lately," said Hank. "You were right about teaching, Minerva. I'm so glad I took your advice."

Minerva sniffed primly, a twinkle of mischief in her dark eyes. "You should know I'm always right when it matters, Henry," she teased.

He chuckled. "A lesson I shall always cherish, Minerva," he said, his voice expressing his deep gratitude and affection.

"Can we get on with this?" snarled Logan impatiently.

"Of course," said Hank, guiding the older mutant over to a metal table. "Just lie down here. I'll try to make this as quick and painless as possible."

Ten minutes of poking, prodding, and whirring machines later, Hank was done. "Is that all you need, Henry?" asked Minerva.

"Yes," the blue furred doctor replied. "I should have the results back within the hour. Will you be sticking around, Minerva?"

"Of course," she replied. "I need to look over those results to determine what our next steps should be."

"Of course," said Hank. "I shall see you again soon, then."

"Come Minerva," said Charles, wheeling over beside her. "It's been years since your last visit to my school. Let me give you a tour and you can regale me with tales of all of your favorite and most troublesome students.

Minerva laughed and placed her hand on his shoulder. "That sounds simply lovely, Charles."

AN: So Minerva McGonagall was meant to only make a cameo in this chapter, but then she appeared and sort of laughed at me and said "Nope, I'm here to stay. Oh and guess what? I'm married to Erik Lensherr; have been since the fifties. Deal with it." Don't really know how it happened, but she kept insisting they were married before First Class and that she was Pietro & Wanda's mother's, so there's that cannon divergence for you. Most likely there'll be more on this development later... again, this was totally not planned or anything, but when the plot dragons insist...

You don't anger the plot dragons, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup.

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