A/N: Pepper and Tony, Patronuses, Christmas Hank, Quidditch Cup, Kurt and Buckbeak, Sirius Black?
June 1993
Charles stretched and glanced at the rest of the piles of paperwork that was littering his (odd to call it that. It had been his father's, and then Kurt had taken it over, and now with Kurt having blown up himself and nearly the mansion in some strange experiment, it's his) desk. He had always been the Xavier heir, but with all the strange investments and things that Kurt had bought (the basement downstairs has nightmarish looking equipment that Erik had instantly crushed to pieces as soon as they had unlocked the door), and his mother wasting away (she's outlived both of her husbands, but he has the feeling that she will not be long now. It's hard to feel grief when he feels as though she faded away a long time ago), there are many affairs to be put in order.
There is the funeral to arrange (it was to be a cremation given how much of the body was left, and he absolutely refused to have his stepfather buried in the Xavier main plot), his stepbrother to find (Cain had cut off all contact, and no one seemed to know where he was), and parts of the mansion to be rebuilt (he imagines that Erik might want a steel bunker in place of the burned out basement), but there are happier things to be arranged as well. He smiles as he smoothes out the piece of parchment that would legally change Raven's last name from Marko to Xavier and the piece of paper crisply announcing that he would be allowed to take biology classes at the Muggle university of Oxford (it had taken an impressive amount of paperwork and gentle mental nudging just to get that). Also, despite Erik's snarling protests, Charles' father's will had stipulated that Erik would receive a portion of the Xavier money when he came of age, with a Gringotts account automatically set up for him, and even if Erik refused to touch the money, Charles felt happy knowing it was there for him.
Tony also wanted his help in combining the small, understaffed Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office in the Ministry with Stark Industries' R&D department (no doubt due in part to Arthur Weasley's continued brilliance in combining magic with Muggle devicesin order to do increasingly creative things, such as the Remembrall pager), and so Charles was also busy attempting to sooth the ruffled feathers of those who were offended by the further inclusion of the Muggle world into the wizarding one (he has heard that Lucius Malfoy had nearly blown a hole in the roof when he had heard, and Charles is secretly, vindictively happy about it because from Harry's memories, he knows that the elder Malfoy had been partially responsible for Erik's near death, and he fully intends to at least bleed the Malfoys financially and politically).
He was considering exactly how to word a letter to the increasingly worried sounding Minister (Fudge owed too many favors and Charles suspected money to too many people, including the Malfoys), when the doors of the study slammed open and an angry looking Pepper strode in, brown eyes flashing and black heels clacking.
"If you knew about this, I will hex you," she said conversationally, fingers tapping her wand.
He goggled at her, "I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about," he said honestly.
"Good, I didn't feel like trying to avoid Erik attempting to murder me again," Pepper stated, drawing out a roll of parchment from her bag and flinging it at Charles, "After all, I might need both of your assistance in breaking me out of Azkaban after I murder Tony."
Charles picked up the scroll gingerly and glanced over it. "Transfer papers?" he asked curiously, looking at Pepper over the papers, "I thought you were happy with your position as liaison to Stark Industries with the Ministry?"
"I was," Pepper replied, giving him a tight smile, "But it seems that Tony has transferred me out of my position into becoming his personal assistant."
Charles winced. He had thought that Tony had curbed most of his more reckless adrenaline junkie habits, but forcibly moving Pepper from the job she had chosen? He really was going to have to talk to Tony about perhaps acquiring a few bodyguards, although that wouldn't really help if Pepper was to be his personal assistant.
"At least you have had a lot of practice already?" he offers placatingly, handing her back the papers.
"I don't want to spend my whole life cleaning up Tony Stark's messes," she snaps, placing the scroll back into her bag, "Can you get me back my former position?"
He chews his bottom lip, "I could," he admits, tapping his quill against his desk, "But really, shouldn't you talk to Tony about it first?"
"He grinned at me, deflected all my hexes with some new force-field shield charm robot he created, and told me he couldn't live without me," Pepper replied flatly, fingers once again drumming along her wand.
"Well, he sort of can't," Charles pointed out delicately, discreetly grabbing his own wand and sending a pulse of calming thoughts (Pepper was normally such a calm girl, but when she got irritated, her hexes grew quite nasty), "For about the last three years, you have been the one organizing out his schedule. And you really shouldn't have chosen a job anywhere close to Stark Industries if you didn't want him messing around in your life."
Pepper ran a frustrated hand through her neatly pinned up red hair, "I know," she admitted quietly, " I thought that I could just keep an eye on him in that liaison position instead of actually having to arrange all his appointments and dates since as head of Stark Industries, he has other people to do that for him now."
(Charles doesn't think that Tony and Pepper entirely understand what is going on the two of them. He barely understands it as it is. From what he has seen in their minds, it's an odd mixture of worry, respect, affection, mild jealousy, and irritation that holds them together, and he has no idea if it'll ever grow into anything more. They're attracted to each other, but Pepper still thinks Tony is an arrogant, irresponsible berk, which is unfortunately quite accurate, and Tony doesn't want to be tied down to anything right now. He imagines though, that if anything ever happens, it'll be because Tony will have finally matured some more because Pepper's mind holds a very securely wrapped sensation of complete, utter distaste when it comes to Tony's constant flings.)
"Perhaps he still thinks that you are the best person to do the job?" he suggests mildly, digging through his stacks of parchment and finding a memo from Tony, "Ah, it seems as though his current personal assistant is Ms. Everhart."
Pepper stiffened, her lips drawing into an even thinner line, "She works for the Daily Prophet! No wonder they had that article about his drinking problem the other day! What the hell was Tony thinking?"
"He most likely otherwise occupied at the time," Charles replied dryly, "Or perhaps it was part of his master plan. You do realize that if I get you back your former position, Ms. Everhart will keep hers as well?"
Pepper looked quite put out at being outmaneuvered (occasionally, Tony did show off exactly why he had been put in Ravenclaw).
"I am scheduling Tony for so many different board meetings and early morning wake-up calls," she muttered, standing up and stalking out the door.
Charles smiles and shakes his head as he resumes his scribbling over paperwork. He's sure that they'll work it out somehow. One day anyway. In the future.
August 1993
Erik has a headache, he feels exhausted from spell casting, and he still hasn't managed even an incorporeal Patronus. He glares at the statues around him and tries again, bringing back up the cold memory of visiting Azkaban with the Dementors floating around him (there was no point to this exercise if he couldn't cast the spell with Dementors around) and reaching for the rage that usually fuels his magic (old fury and anger at his former helplessness and uselessness coiled and banked inside of him), but it's tainted by the panic that even the thought of the Dementors bring (it's pathetic, but even the memory of the Dementors makes the bronze vases and statues rattle around him. In Azkaban it had been even worse, all the chains in the prison rising and thrashing around him as the locked doors in his mind had shuddered open and poured out all the memories that usually only crawled out at night. They had had to stun him to snap him out of his nightmare. Nick Fury, his current supervisor, had ordered him to not come back to Auror training until he had mastered the Patronus charm, and he was starting to think that it may be never because even with all his training, all his honing himself to be a weapon, he still can't produce this one, tiny little charm—)
A warm, calming touch in his mind heralds Charles' arrival as he stands behind him and rubs his back soothingly.
"Generally people try to remember happy memories when casting Patronuses," he says lightly, fingers carefully massaging away the tense muscles in Erik's back.
"I generally work better with rage," Erik said, leaning back into Charles' touch, Besides, I don't like the thought of Dementors sucking away my happy memories.
It isn't a permanent loss unless you spend much too much time with a Dementor, which the Patronus Charm is supposed to prevent anyway, Charles pointed out and then said thoughtfully, "You know, I believe that true focus lies somewhere between rage and serenity. Would you mind if I—?" he asked, wiggling his fingers near the temple of his head.
(There was a time when Erik would have reacted violently to anyone, including Charles, bringing things out of the depths of his mind, but Charles asking permission now is a bit pointless since he has practically become a permanent fixture in his mind since his petrification. These days, he can always feel Charles at the edges of his mind, not asking to come in, but just there. He would find it annoying, the tightening of the link they already shared, but instead it is reassuring. He knows from both Raven and Charles' own memories how hard those lost months had been, and so he cannot fault Charles' need to know that he is still here. He himself sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night, still seeing those great yellow eyes, and it's comforting to roll over and be able to hold Charles more securely against his chest and feel Charles sleepily nuzzle back in life and mind. It could have been Charles, and Charles could have been killed, and he looks forward to the day that he can finally as an Auror arrest a sneering Lucius Malfoy, and he so hopes that the man attempts to evade arrest.)
Erik nods his assent, and he feels Charles quietly walking down the halls of his mind, to a nearly invisible, hidden door where he had relegated his happiest memories.
(Reading a book in their giant bed while absentmindedly carding his fingers through Charles' curly brown hair/Waking up in the hospital wing and having Charles fling himself into his arms/ The first time they had fallen into bed together, kissing and shedding clothes frantically/ Charles flooding his mind with affection and love and kissing him after nearly a year of uncertainty and misery / Going to Hogsmeade with everyone, crazy, loud, and chaotic, but generally entertaining/ Christmas snowball fights, Charles red cheeked and laughing as the twins manage to bury Tony in snowballs /Winning his first Quidditch game, the roars of the stands deafening/ Sunny days spent playing Quidditch with Raven while Charles read a book in the field/ Playing chess against a grinning Charles/ The one time Raven and Charles tried to make a cake for his birthday, and it had basically exploded, and he had laughed so hard when he had scrambled over to the kitchens only to find the two of them befuddled and covered in icing and flour/ Meeting Charles for the first time and being told that he was not alone/The first time he had moved a gate without touching it/Playing chess with for the first time with his father/Lighting Shabbat candles with his mother—)
And as the memories flood his mind (and his eyes fill with tears because he hasn't thought about that in years, he didn't even realize he still remembered—), he raises his wand and (chokingly) intones, "Expecto Patronum."
Silver threads burst from his wand and coalesce into a gleaming shark that languidly swims around in the air. He laughs and stares at it in wonder as Charles smiles at him.
"I really didn't think I could manage that," he said haltingly, sliding his arms around Charles' shoulders, "I didn't even know I still had that memory."
"There is so much more to you than you know," Charles told him earnestly, discreetly wiping away his own tears (if Raven saw them like this, she was going to mock them mercilessly), "Not just pain and anger, there's good too, I felt it. When you can access all that, you'll possess a power no one can match, not even me."
(And not even Shaw remains unsaid between the two of them. They both know what his end-goal is, what he will do when his training is finally done, and he knows Charles hates it, especially after nearly losing him to the basilisk, but even if he wants to spend the rest of his life with Charles by his side, he cannot just give up the desire that has driven him for so long. It's not just revenge though; he does not believe anything or anyone is safe while Shaw still breathes, and so he will endure Fury's barked orders until the day he can finally kill the monster that haunts his nightmares and move on with his life.)
"I have seen you cast a Patronus; it's a griffin," Erik protested, as his Patronus lazily swam closer to them.
"Yes, but I have a feeling that yours might be more effective toward Dementors than mine," Charles said dryly as Erik's Patronus attempted to bite off the head of an abstract statue that vaguely resembled a Dementor, "I believe Mr. Fury will be very pleased with you."
"The only time he'll be pleased is when we actually manage to figure out how Sirius Black escaped and/or catch him," Erik stated grimly, waving his wand in an attempt to make his Patronus stop mauling the statue.
"It is quite interesting; no one has ever escaped from Azkaban before!" Charles exclaimed, eyes shining with the possibilities, "Dementors have never been properly studied; they have a rather bad effect on people. Perhaps they have some sort of weakness that Sirius Black managed to exploit. Whenever you capture him, there are some questions I would like to—"
"Whenever we catch Black, he's most likely going to get the Dementor's Kiss," Erik interrupted harshly, "I don't want you near him."
Charles sighed unhappily, running a hand down Erik's arm, "You know, he gave me a teddy bear once," he said sadly, "It had three eyes and a tail. I think I still have it somewhere. And he helped us degnome the garden that one time, remember?"
"Yes," Erik replied shortly, his arms tightening around Charles.
(He remembers the grinning, dark-haired young man who had given them pointers on how to best throw the gnomes, but he has also seen the reports and photos of the same man laughing madly around a bloody mess of strewn bodies. No matter what pleasant memories either of them may have of him, Sirius Black is a traitor and was in the service of the same madman that Shaw had served. The War had destroyed many things, and so they will catch Black because none of them want him to start another.)
"Hey guys, do you think—why is there a shark attempting to eat that statue's head?" Raven asked, walking out onto the balcony.
"Ah, Raven!" Charles beamed, waving at her, "Erik just mastered the Patronus Charm. Are you all packed?"
"I don't leave until a week from now Charles," Raven replied, rolling her eyes and turning to Erik, "It just figures that your Patronus would be something with so many teeth—are your eyes red?"
"No," he hastily said, rubbing at his eyes and cursing Raven's tendency to notice the most inconvenient, embarrassing details.
"Yes, they are, and Charles' eyes look kind of like that too," Raven declared, crossing her arms, "Were you guys crying together?"
"They were very touching memories, Raven!" Charles protested, and Erik kind of wanted to strangle him out of embarrassment. (You should not have told her that, why did you tell her that?/But Erik, it's true!)
"So you guys cried manly tears at each other, gotcha," Raven said, a devious grin sliding over her face, "Next time can you tell me so I can take pictures? Or should I just put on one of those Muggle chick-flicks?"
"I can't wait until you leave for Hogwarts!" Charles yelled as a laughing Raven ran away before one of the bronze pots could hit her.
"You love me, and you're going to miss me so much when I'm at school!" she cackled over her shoulder, "You might even cry more manly tears!"
November 1993
Harry isn't really sure if this sort of thing applies, but Buckbeak really seems to be in trouble, and Hagrid is in no position to go against the Malfoys, so he (with Hermione's careful help) writes the letter and sends Hedwig with it to the Xavier Mansion.
Raven assures him that Charles will respond soon, but he was still not expecting to see Charles' head pop up in the middle of the Gryffindor fireplace though.
"Harry!" the fiery looking head greeted him cheerfully, "I just got your letter! I would be delighted to help you."
"Are you sure?" Harry asked cautiously, staring at the smiling head in the fireplace, "I wasn't really certain about what sort of favor I could ask—"
"Oh, don't even bother to invoke my oath," Charles assured him, "This sort of thing is a simple affair; it's ridiculous for Lucius Malfoy to push such a matter so far anyway, he must have called in a lot of favors. It'll be a work of perhaps a few hours at most to convince a few key people that his actions are quite excessive."
"You won't—?" Harry trailed off, wiggling his fingers by his ear in an approximation of what Charles seemed to be able to do.
"Of course not!" Charles said in a horrified tone, before adding, "Well, maybe a nudge here and there, but no more than that. If they want to be bought by Lucius Malfoy, that's their own business."
(Looking at it in retrospect, it's a bit scary what Charles can do. Raven tried explaining it to them once, and then Hermione had checked out every single book she could find out Legilimency and given them a lecture on it. He personally still doesn't really see how it's all that different from mind-reading, and Charles seems to be on a class of his own given how he doesn't seem to need eye contact or even proximity to leap into people's mind. However, even though it's freaky, he somehow understands instinctively that Charles is no Tom Riddle. He cannot imagine this boy, who had looked so lost at the end of last year, possessing a young girl just out of spite and hatred. Raven says that Charles has rules that he tries to follow, and Harry believes that. Hermione pointed out that it's kind of too scary and pointless after awhile to wonder otherwise, because if Charles could truly change everyone's minds, how would they even know? That's when they all got a headache and decided to stop worrying about it. )
"Malfoy seems pretty confident that his dad can pull it off though," Ron said doubtfully, gloomily prodding one of his knights on his chess set, "Are you sure you don't want Harry or Hermione to call in one of their oaths?"
"I am sure. As I have told you before, the Xaviers are better liked," Charles replied firmly with a small smile, "It is no hardship for me to begin snipping away at all of Lucius Malfoy's connections; I was meaning to do so anyway."
And Harry was never happier that Charles was on their side because there was something about that small smile that was vaguely terrifying and hinted at all the ways that Charles gleefully try to crush Lucius Malfoy.
"Yeah, Charles will take it seriously," Raven stated cheerfully as Charles' head disappeared, "He's not about to forgive Lucius Malfoy any time soon."
Harry glanced at Raven who was neatly trimming the twigs of the tail of her broom. "And you?" he found himself asking.
She gave him a wide grin, white teeth flashing brilliantly against her sapphire skin, "I can't destroy him politically, but I can crush his pride. I'm going to beat Lucius Malfoy's son at Quidditch and win us the Quidditch cup. Besides, I think Oliver may die if we don't manage to get it this year."
"But we're playing Hufflepuff tomorrow because Malfoy's faking his injury," Harry pointed out.
Raven shrugged, carefully putting her broom away, "Which is why we have to win and then beat him another day," she replied, stretching, "There's always another chance to grind Lucius Malfoy's pride to dust."
"I thought dad hated him, but you guys take it to the next level," Ron said wonderingly.
Raven shot him a look, "His little plot nearly killed Erik and put him in the hospital for nearly three months," she said flatly, yellow eyes hard, "I know you lost him a house elf for everything he caused Harry, but that is not enough. We're Xaviers; we look after family."
"And what does Erik think about all this?" Hermione asked curiously.
Raven snorted, putting the rest of her kit away, "I'm sure he has his own little plans of revenge that most likely are getting more and more inventive with every day of Auror training," she pats Harry on the shoulder, "Get a good rest. The Wolverine's off at Hit Wizard training now, so we won't have to deal with him, but I have heard Hufflepuff's Seeker's good. 'Night Harry, Hermione, Ron."
(Later, when he's in the hospital wing, staring at the splinters of his broom, Raven quietly asks him if he would like for them to buy him a broom. He refuses because brooms are expensive, and he does have the money to buy his own, even if he feels quite miserable over the loss of his faithful Nimbus 2000. Also, Hermione has pounded into his head by now how important an oath from a pureblood family is, and how it should not be used on frivolous things. Buckbeak was important to Hagrid which is why they had tried to call it in at the time, but a broom is a different matter entirely. She pats him on the back sadly and goes off to prevent Oliver from attempting to drown himself. He knows they still have a chance at the Cup, but he's feeling pretty miserable all the same.)
December 1993
Raven is attempting to memorize the theory of Vanishing spells, and she wants to scream. She can't believe she's studying over winter holidays, she was freaking turning into Charles, but this was hard. Although honestly, why did she need a N.E.W.T. in Transfiguration if she was going to be a professional Chaser? She had complained about this to Charles, but he had begun extolling the virtues of a well-rounded education until Erik had walked in and pointed out that she could always try turning her opponent into a toad during a match, in which she began reading her textbook again with greater enthusiasm while Charles made hilariously disapproving faces.
But it wasn't all bad she supposed. Hank had come with her to spend Christmas at the Xavier Mansion, and she was looking forward to romantic snuggling in front of the fireplace. (He was holed up in one of the labs that had been rebuilt right now, still trying to figure out some sort of Transfiguration potion that he had been very secretive about, even though she had bemusedly let him take blood samples from her for it. However, she fully planned to drag him up here as soon as Charles and Erik got back from their date.)
She flicks her wand to levitate over more parchment when she hears glass shattering and a loud scream that turns into a long, drawn out howl emanating from the basement.
Hank.
She's running frantically down the stairs, wand out before she even thinks about it (had something gotten past the wards? She remembers Charles mentioning that some magic doesn't work on werewolves. But it's not full moon, and Charles and Erik aren't here, and oh god she hopes she remembers all the offensive spells Erik had taught her, and she knows that Hank never practiced them enough, and Hank—).
She flings open the doors of the lab (her father's domain, and would she find more nightmares here again?) to be greeted by the sight of all the equipment in the lab either wrecked or lying on their sides, papers strewn all over the floor, and no sign of Hank.
"Hank?" she called out nervously, carefully keeping her back to the door and pointing her wand around, "Hank where are you?"
There's a tinkle of glass, the sound of movement in the shadows, and a low growl that turned into a whine.
She advanced cautiously, keeping the Stunning Spell firmly in mind, "Who's there?" she calls out harshly, "Hank? Are you alright? Where are you? What's going on?"
There's a whimper, and she thinks she sees something blue (fur?) before something crawls further back into the shadows.
She raises her wand high and warns (with a confidence she doesn't really feel, what is going on?), "If you don't come out right now, and tell me where Hank is, I am going to cast a Stunning Spell."
There is silence, and then with glass crunching underfoot, a blue, furry animal (it looks vaguely like a cross between a wolf and maybe a panther, but it is much bigger than either animal. What is it? A monster? A beast?) slinks out of the corner and stares at her mournfully.
She's about to stun it (my god, what has this thing done to Hank?) when she notices that the beast has round black markings around its eyes, looking like comically large eyeglasses. Much like the nerdy looking glasses Hank always wears.
(McGonagall had been lecturing about the more in depth theory of Animagi right before Winter Break. She had found it fairly interesting at the time, given that her Metamorphmagus powers do not extend to full animal forms, but becoming an Animagus is both difficult and dangerous, and she was fairly sure Puddlemere United wouldn't want a Chaser who had accidentally spliced herself trying to become one. Besides, the Ministry kept fairly close tabs on all registered Animagi, so she thought it was too much of a hassle. Now that she's thinking about it some more, Hank had looked awfully shifty during that lecture.)
"Hank?" she asks disbelievingly, slowly lowering her wand.
The beast nods slowly and hides its face in its paws.
She carefully steps forward and lightly touches his neck, "Hank," she says softly, patting his neck soothingly (she wishes someone would do the same for her), "What's going on? Can you turn back?"
He whines and shivers, clawing at the ground and trembling.
"No?" Raven whispers, fingers clenching in his fur, "Concentrate Hank; listen to me. You were trying to make some sort of Animagus potion, weren't you? Animagi can always turn back, that's the whole point of being an Animagus, so listen to me Hank, turn back."
He whimpers again and stretches and twists, and she thinks she sees his limbs shrinking, but then he howls in pain, and stops and curls up. He's panting heavily, still in this form, whimpering in pain. Raven tries to take a deep breath, but her hands are trembling, and her thoughts are racing
"Does it hurt too much for you to turn back?" she asks, trying to keep her voice from trembling.
Hank nods miserably and whines.
(What do I do What if he can't turn back My god I should have been paying more attention to what he was actually trying to do down here Why didn't I notice I should have been down here I should have talked to him more about it He's been talking about special abilities far more than usual Hank it can't just end like this—)
She shakes her head and forces herself to think through her panicked thoughts. If it's a mental thing, a mental block, but he can still turn himself back as long as he can force himself through, then maybe it's okay, maybe he can turn back? Or even if he can't bring himself through it, maybe someone else could. Someone like Charles.
"Stay here, okay?" she orders Hank, standing up and focusing on the Xavier wards to let her pass, "I'm going to get help."
She apparates to Le Heureux Foie with a giant crack (she had only recently passed her apparition tests) and rushed past the affronted looking maitre de to Charles and Erik's candle-lit table without a word.
"Charles! Charles!" she yelled, scrambling up to them, "You have to come home, right now."
Charles stood up worriedly, steadying her shoulder with his hand, "Raven, what's wrong—"
"It's Hank," she cut in, clenching and unclenching her hands nervously, "Please."
Without another word, her two brothers gather up their coats, toss a few galleons on the table, and apparate back to the mansion with their arms wrapped around her shoulders. She grabs them by the hand as soon as they land and drag them down into the lab with her.
"He was making some kind of potion," she babbled as she wrenched open the doors, "Something to do with Animagi? But now, he can't turn back."
Charles stares at the curled up Hank with a look of awe while Erik begins to surreptitiously twist the overturned cauldron into a net until Raven shoots him a dirty look.
"Amazing," Charles breathed, moving closer with Erik hot on his heels, "He really is an Animagi; I can hear his mind—"
"Can you make him turn back?' Raven demanded, twisting her hands together uselessly.
Charles frowns, moving his fingers up to his temple, the way he always does when his mental acrobatics grew particularly complicated.
"I could," he admits slowly, "But I'd have to take full control of Hank; he's too terrified to think clearly at this point, and one must have a clear picture in one's mind to turn back. It seems that he can feel the transformation take place, so there is pain as well—"
"Do it," Raven demands, kneeling at Hank's side, "Please Charles."
"…very well," Charles says finally, looking Hank in the eye and going silent.
Hank whimpers, and his limbs begin to shrink again, and the fur begins to disappear, but then he begins to howl in pain again, and Charles is biting his lip and still focusing on Hank, but she can see the way his hands are clenched in pain, and Erik is looking murderously worried.
"Stop this, Charles," Erik growls as Hank howls and Charles hisses in pain, "You're hurting both of you."
"Just…a bit…more," Charles panted, wincing as Hank's arms popped back into place and Hank screamed.
"Charles," Erik insisted, face pinched and knuckles practically white with the grip he had on Charles' arm, "Raven, call him off—"
Charles gasps, blue eyes wide as Hank slumps to the ground, fully human again, except that his feet look somewhat strange, but she is so relieved.
"I did it!" Charles grins, before collapsing into Erik's arms.
"Charles! Is he alright?" Raven asked worriedly, carefully cradling Hank's head in her arms.
Erik stares at Charles, wearing that far-away look that she has grown to associate with her two brothers climbing in and out of each other's minds, and replies, "…he's alright. Just fainted. Don't make him do that again," he warns her, stroking Charles' curly hair back softly.
"I'm sorry," she apologizes quietly, clutching Hank to her, "It's just—It's Hank, and I was—"
"We understand," Erik interrupted, shifting Charles body up so that he could carry him in his arms, "But—I could hear Charles screaming in my mind. Don't make him do that again," he repeats, his hazel eyes boring into her.
"I'll try not to," she answers, levitating Hank's body so that she can float it over to the cot he had set up in the lab, "I—I'll definitely make all of this up to both of you."
Erik sighs and bumps her shoulder with his own, "You're our little sister," he says seriously, shifting Charles' body up some more, "You don't owe us anything. Just make sure your boyfriend doesn't make any more messes," he added, shooting Hank a venomous glance.
Raven tenderly drew a blanket over Hank's pale form and said lightly, "He won't; I'll see to it."
(It takes a bit of work, with her impersonating various Ministry officials and greasing the palms of others with her hard-earned galleons from a year of selling mocking amulets with the twins the year before, but she manages to procure a week long package trip to Paris with high tea at the Ritz, accommodations at the One By Five apartment suite and the Ritz which had been particularly difficult, the buffet at the Moon City Sauna on "couples-only" Wednesday, lunch at Le Jules Verne in the Eiffel Tower, nights out at the Black Calvados Bar, pastries from Pierre Herme, hot chocolate from Angelina's , wine from La Derniere Goutte, and an evening cruise up the Seine with Bateux Parisiens. She then tucks the tickets into a creamy, monogrammed envelope and hands it to Charles and Erik on Christmas day.
Charles protests that the tickets are too much, but Erik looks pleased with a contemplative look in his eyes, so Raven presses the envelope onto the two of them with a minimum level of fuss. She is surprised in her turn when her brothers present her with a long, thin package that she unwraps to reveal a Nimbus 2001.
"It's not a Firebolt," Charles said apologetically as she gaped at the gleaming black and silver broom, "They seem to be sold out; something about the Irish International Team buying the rest of the stock. But it was what you kept haranguing us about last year, and we hope you like it?"
She pounces on both boys, throwing her arms around the two of them, "I love it!" she exclaims happily, "I can finally do that twisting feint on the Slytherin team! Oliver is going to be over the moon! We can finally win the Cup! Thank you! What would I do without you guys?" she asked, feeling suddenly teary as she looked at her two smiling brothers.
(What would she have done without them? If she had never met them, if Father had never decided to go after the Xavier fortune by marrying Sharon Xavier, then perhaps she would still be that scared, little girl, bullied and tortured by her biological older brother and ignored by her father. She would have never flown, never met Hank, never known that there were people who would accept her exactly the way she is. She can barely imagine it, and she's glad that her imagination cannot extend that far.)
"You would most likely have failed Potions by now," Charles jokes, patting her on the head.
"Or been blown up with the Weasley twins," Erik adds, giving her a small smile.
Later, she curls up by the fireplace with a still pale, but much healthier looking Hank while Charles gets the house elves to bring them marshmallows and chocolate and Erik twists the fire pokers into tiny tridents suitable for roasting them for s'mores, she thinks that she has been quite lucky in her life.)
May 1994
Hank is happy that Gryffindor has managed to advance to the final round in Quidditch matches (mainly because it made Raven so very happy, he didn't actually care for how twitchy Oliver had gotten as the match approached), and he has even gamely put on a lion hat to cheer for his girlfriend, but he is frankly terrified that both of her brothers are here to watch her as well.
Charles isn't too bad, even though he feels guilty every time he sees him. It's Erik who gives him the look of death every time they meet, and he's almost certain that the older boy will never forgive him for making Charles feel all that pain.
(He had never been in so much agony before, and even now the memory feels him with fear, and he takes Dreamless Sleep Draughts before bed. Through some complicated paperwork, his potion and transformation were duly noted, approved, and then buried, but he is still stuck with the consequences. No matter how much he concentrates, he cannot turn his feet back to the way they were. He's stuck with freakishly prehensile feet that he hides with long socks and large shoes, and a strange speed and strength that he does not remember having before, but he doesn't like it. Even if Raven has forgiven him for putting himself in so much danger and scaring her so badly, he knows that he has screwed up badly. He doesn't think that he can even turn into that form again, given how much pain he had been in during either transformation, so really, all his work and sacrifice had been for naught.)
Thankfully, Erik's attention seems to be diverted by the Gryffindor scarf Charles keeps trying to tie around his neck.
"No Charles," he said, pushing away Charles' hands.
Charles pouted up at him, "Raven used to turn her hair green and silver whenever we watched your matches," he pointed out teasingly, curling his hand on the back of Erik's neck, "If you're so opposed to the scarf, perhaps I could enchant your hair—"
"Don't touch my hair," Erik warned, his eyes narrowed slightly.
"Scarf then?" Charles suggested brightly, holding up the red and yellow scarf.
Erik grumbled and glowered (and Hank really wanted to run away, but the Gryffindor stands are too rowdy, the Slytherin stands scare him, and the Hufflepuff stands are too far away) but still permitted a humming Charles to neatly tie the scarf around his neck.
"If Snape sees me and attempts to have my head, and I am forced to stun him, it'll be all your fault," Erik muttered, pulling morosely at the securely tied scarf.
"You've never looked more beautiful, darling. I'm sure it'll be fine," Charles replied cheerfully, clapping loudly as the Gryffindor team stepped onto the field to a roar of cheers.
For all of Charles' reassurances, it was the dirtiest game of Quidditch that Hank has ever seen played. The Slytherin Beaters attempt to bludgeon off various players' heads, Malfoy grabs onto Harry's broom to prevent him from flying (Hank is frankly amazed that the boy even has the strength; the Firebolt could go 150 miles per hour in ten seconds flat), and every single Chaser gets tackled, hurtled, and slammed into at some point (Flint nearly manages to push Raven off her broom, and Raven retaliates by kicking him in the face, which results for a penalty for both Gryffindor and Slytherin).
Hank is surprised that Erik's arm hasn't come off, given how hard Charles is clutching at it, and that Flint hasn't spontaneously caught on fire or just suddenly dropped dead given the dark looks that both older boys are sending his way.
"Your team has grown much more…unscrupulous in their methods since you left Erik," Charles commented with an expression of distaste as Oliver was attacked by both Slytherin Beaters in retaliation for Katie Bell's goal.
"Flint must be frustrated at his lack of graduation," Erik replied, eyes lighting with something like glee as one of the Weasley twins threw his bat straight into Flint's head, "Although Raven's team seems perfectly capable of handling it."
Charles took a deep breath as Raven executed a perfect flip of her broom to get past the two Beaters rampaging toward her. Hank noticed that despite the comforting hand that Erik ran down Charles' back, the metal supports for the stands were lightly rattling.
"I won't; Raven would never forgive me," Charles suddenly said, most likely in response to whatever silent conversation that the two of them had been having in their minds (Hank still found this aspect of Charles' Legilimency fascinating; he has never read of anyone else capable of doing this), "Besides, if you can keep yourself from flipping Marcus Flint's broom over, I can be trusted to stay out of all of their heads."
"As you say, liebling," Erik murmurs into Charles' ear, and Hank has a hard time corroborating the soft look Erik has on his face right now with the terrifying glares he always gets.
(Erik and Charles are so obviously in each other's pockets that Hank had felt like he was intruding every time he walked into a room with the two of them together, even if they were doing nothing besides reading a book or eating together. It makes him feel strange, watching how easily they click together when he and Raven are nothing like that. Raven does not like his more experimental potions, especially after his accident, and he does not understand what she considers romantic. He's trying to figure it out through trial and error, but he's terrified that Raven will only take so many errors before she decides to break up with him.
But then again, he's still not sure why Raven had agreed to go out with him. She could easily be dating Quidditch captain Oliver or either of the twins or really anyone she wants, but she wants to date him. Even now, after he's made a mess of himself, she had told him fiercely, her eyes glowing a warm gold, that he is the one she wants. But he doesn't understand that. Why him?)
The crowd roars, and Hank looks up to see Harry holding the Snitch up high and Raven executing back flip after back flip on her broom while pumping her fist up in glee. The entire Gryffindor team lands on the ground to swarm over Harry, and the entire stands follow suit, running onto the field and either pouncing onto the red and gold crowd or sulking with the glum looking Slytherin team.
Hank gets swept up in his fellow Ravenclaws' wake (Slytherin had been acting a bit too smug this year to have many supporters), and finds himself in front of a beaming Raven whose sapphire skin is practically glowing with happiness.
"Congratulations," he offers, mentally berating himself for not knowing what else to say.
She grins at him and grabs him by the tie to pull him in for a long, drawn-out kiss that only breaks up when the Weasley twins begin to wolf-whistle and Charles coughs meaningfully.
They break apart, and Raven smiles at him as he attempts to catch his breath, "I'm glad you're here with me," she said shyly, grabbing onto his hand as the team moves forward to take the Cup.
(And maybe, despite the fact that logically speaking they should not get along or be dating at all, that all the formulas that he has written when he couldn't sleep say they should be incompatible, that he feels wholly inadequate, maybe this will work out anyway. Maybe he won't screw up, and she won't break his heart. Maybe.)
June 1994
Charles is working in his study, considering the invitation to be part of the Department of International Magical Cooperation (he did think it sounded rather interesting, especially with the proposal of the Triwizard Tournament being revived), when the wards twinged to tell him that two people had arrived by Portkey.
He frowned, looking up from his papers. He had not been expecting anyone today, and there were very few Portkeys to the Xavier Mansion. In fact, he believed that most of them had belonged to the Order of the Phoenix, but given how it was now defunct—
The doors of his study bang open to reveal a disheveled and ragged looking Hermione and Harry, both with torn clothes, smudged faces, and looking quite frantic.
"Hermione? Harry?" he asked, standing up in alarm, "What is going on? Are you two alright—"
"Charles Xavier, I am in need, and I wish to call in your family debt," Harry interrupted frantically, glancing at Hermione who was mouthing him the correct words, "Through the bonds of obligation, I demand that you fulfill your oath."
"I would be happy to," Charles replied, startled by the intensity of Harry's words, "But what is it that you need?"
"I need you to tell Erik Lehnsherr that tonight, when Sirius Black is handed over to him, he needs to transport him back here and make it look like he's escaped. I then need you to hide him for an indeterminate amount of time," Harry rushed out,
"What?" Charles asked, completely shocked, "Harry, you do know that—Sirius Black is—tonight? How do you even—what exactly is going on here?"
"Just read my mind," Harry said impatiently, gesturing at his head.
Charles raises his eyebrows, but does as Harry requests, leaping neatly into his mind and rifling through the memories of the past day.
(Going to visit Hagrid to celebrate Buckbeak's release/Catching sight of Scabbers and running after him/Ron catching him but then being dragged through a passageway in the Whomping Willow by a giant black dog/Fighting off the Whomping Willow to go after Ron/Arriving in the Shrieking Shack and finding Sirius Black/Remus Lupin arriving and embracing Black/The two of them claiming that Peter Pettigrew was both an Animagus and the Potters' betrayer/Snape arriving and trying to arrest Black, only to be disarmed and knocked out by Harry/Scabbers turning back into Peter Pettigrew/Returning to the castle to try and clear Sirius' name, but then Lupin transforms and Pettigrew escapes/Attempting to fight off the Dementors/Trying desperately to convince Fudge, Snape, Nick Fury, and Erik that Sirius is innocent/Dumbledore believing them and telling them that they need more time and handing them a portkey to the Xavier Mansion/Hermione pulling out a Time Turner and turning it back/Speaking the words and arriving at the Xavier Mansion with time ticking away)
Charles breaks out of Harry's memories, mind whirling with the implications of what all this means.
"They never took him to trial because it looked so obvious, and he never protested," he murmured, staring at his desk, "But the story, it did have holes in it, so perhaps—"
"Can you tell Erik right now?" Harry asked quickly, practically bouncing up and down with nervousness.
"Ah, yes, of course," Charles said distractedly (something this important has to be done in person), drawing on their bond and sending, Come home right now to Erik.
He feels Erik's sense of sudden worry (the feeling of everything dropping away from your feet) and then hears the slight pop as Erik apparates back into the mansion. Erik sends a stream of slightly panicked thoughts (Areyoualright? What'sgoingon?) to him as he strides into the study, and then has an expression and feeling of utter relief when he sees Charles unharmed (a splash of cool water on a hot day), only to stop short in surprise at the sight of Harry and Hermione.
Charles doesn't bother trying to explain the whole situation to Erik out loud (time travel always made things so very difficult to explain), instead entering Erik's mind and simply dumping Harry's memories straight into the fortress (like spreading a stack of papers across the floor).
Erik blinks as he sorts through all the memories and pictures, and then his face hardens.
"Sirius Black is innocent?" he asked the two younger Gryffindors disbelievingly, "Why didn't he protest his sentence?"
"I believe that perhaps he blamed himself for Lily and James Potter's deaths regardless of the true situation," Charles interjected gently, "Can you arrange for his escape?"
"Dawlish I can knock out easily while making it look like Black did it," Erik said dismissively, frowning as he ran the scenarios over in his mind, "The best thing to do would to be to then to stash him temporarily somewhere safe, go back and pretend to be surprised, and then to floo him back home, but Fury's going to find the whole mess suspicious no matter what."
(He thinks he should be a tiny bit disturbed at how easily Erik can put together a plan to help a wanted criminal escape, but it's probably all that Auror training. Besides, he is no better, already planning out which wards to strengthen, how often to check on his ailing mother in Bath now that they have a rather illegal guest in the house, which officials in the Ministry need to be talked to and which forms to fill out to open a new investigation on Sirius, and exactly how to tell Raven what is going on. It's a grand undertaking that could potentially blow up in all of their faces, but if Sirius is really innocent, then he deserves at least this much effort for the lost thirteen years of his life.)
"Perhaps I should tell the headmaster to have a few words with Mr. Fury," Charles suggested delicately, grabbing his cloak.
"Explaining it to Dumbledore right now might be difficult," Erik objected, reaching out and brushing some lint off of Charles' cloak, "Most of the events haven't even happened yet."
"I can simply show him what I showed you," Charles pointed out, turning to Harry and Hermione, "Do you two need anything? You look rather terrible; I could ask Doodge to make you some tea—"
"We need to head back," Hermione answered, shaking her head and grabbing onto Harry's wrist, "There's a few more things we have to see through."
"Ah, time travel," Charles sighed, double-checking the wards of the house, "Well, come with me to the main parlor then; I believe that fireplace is still directly linked to Hogwarts. Are you ready for this?" he asked seriously, focusing on Erik.
"Let's find out," Erik answered grimly, sending a pulse of reassurance (a firm metal wall behind his back) before apparating back to the Ministry.
(After dumping all the information on an inscrutable Dumbledore (he's never been able to really read the headmaster, there's something just twisty about his mind that confuses Charles every time he tries to enter it), and waiting worriedly back in the mansion for night to fall while pacing back and forth, Erik finally steps out of the fireplace with a gaunt Sirius Black in tow.
"Did you have much trouble?" he asks, rushing forward to steady a stumbling Sirius.
"No," Erik replied, dumping Sirius onto one of the longue chairs, "Dawlish was easily incapacitated by a metal chair, and Fury started a giant search of the castle, which he knows will occupy everyone for at least a year, given how many hidden rooms and chambers there are. We're safe for now."
"Excellent," Charles said, giving Erik a warm smile and then turning to a stunned looking Sirius, "We've met before, but it has been a long time. I'm Charles Xavier, and this is Erik Lehnsherr."
"Brian's son," Sirius croaked out, looking at the two of them, "And the kid that managed to escape from Shaw. I helped you guys degnome a garden once."
"You remember!" Charles said excitedly and was about to ask him about Dementors before Erik sent him a quelling look, "Ah, you must be tired; it's been a long day for all of us. Take any room you want besides the master suite and Raven's room, that'll be the room with more Puddlemere United gear than should be capable be fitting in one room; we'll talk more tomorrow if you're up for it."
Charles and Erik begin to walk up the stairs when Sirius says in a slightly amused tone, "You realize that I'm not about to run away right? The Auror doesn't have to stay on my account."
"I live here," Erik replied flatly, not bothering to look back.
"So I shouldn't take your room either then," Sirius guesses, "And it's the one on the…?"
"I share the master suite with Charles," Erik states tightly, turning back to give a hard look at Sirius, "Is that going to be a problem?"
"Oh! So you two are—gotcha," Sirius replied, grinning and suddenly looking younger by at least ten years, "No, it's not a problem; just—surprised that's all. Last time I saw either of you, I could still get away with giving you teddy bears for birthday presents. It just seems that—a lot has changed since then," he said quietly, looking haunted once again.
"It's going to be okay," Charles said softly, leaning over the banister, "We'll clear your name, just wait and see. And Harry can come and visit you over the summer if he likes."
"That would be great," Sirius says, smiling again, "Well then, you guys have fun and good night."
And when Raven comes back home and chatters about recent Quidditch history with Sirius, Sirius cheers up considerably although he does have fits of melachonalia and brooding, but that is understandable. They cannot bring in a Healer for him to talk to, but Charles does try to prod Sirius into talking about his experiences anyway, and Erik also helps by taking Sirius' mind off of his past by doing practice duels with him. The mansion feels much fuller and more alive than it has in years, and Charles thinks that their makeshift little family is growing just a bit.)
A/N: Went a bit AU there, but hopefully it was still alright? Do the lines from the movie mesh correctly? All of the Paris attractions are real (and super expensive) and taken from a Google search of most romantic things to do in Paris (although with one or two of them, I'm not entirely sure they were there in 1994, but oh well). La Hereux Foie is The Happy Liver and is a shout out to Going Postal by Terry Pratchett.