Silver Claws and Cat Tails
Abby Ebon
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Disclaimer; I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own X-Men.
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Mutant-Mornings-Aren't-Magnetically-Pleasing
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Harry woke to the sensation of his skin crawling. It might have been an ominous warning of things to come, though at the moment he thought the room was merely chilly. He stretched, cat-like, and peered into the darkness with ease.
Lance was snoring, but Harry had found that so long as he fell asleep first, that didn't bother him too much. Pyro seemed to be "dozing" more so then sleeping, for it seemed that if he stirred he would be wholly awake and ready for whatever had woken him.
It was then Harry realized he was thirsty- for milk, of all things. Ear flicking in annoyance at his own realization he climbed out of bed, padding his way past his roommates and down the hall. It would be, he knew, embarrassing if he woke one of them up just because he was thirsty. He knew then he would have to find the kitchen on his own. That was fine, he remembered it being downstairs.
He was grateful for his improved night vision, or, rather – vision period – for it allowed him to lessen his klutziness. It wouldn't due to wake the people who controlled where he slept and ate with a crash and a cat-like howl of pain.
With care, he managed his way downstairs, and got to the kitchen – where he then opened the fridge to find…no milk. He curled his lip in distaste, tail swishing back and forth with annoyance. Great, what was he going to do now? He knew it would be fruitless to try to get back to sleep without satisfying his craving. He was positive it had something to do with his appearance. It would have done no good to remind him of all those times he had gone snack hunting after dark.
With an expression he would never admit to being a "pout" he slumped down into one of the fold up chairs (with no cushions) and amused himself by flexing his sheathed claws in morbid fascination. It was likely the quieter cat equivalent of "farting" armpits.
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Remy wasn't surprised the talk with Logan had lasted well into the night, about the time he started yawning midsentence, was about the time Logan had decided Remy could walk himself back to the Brotherhood house.
Always one unable to keep his fingers still – even while his feet walked, he played with a card – flipping it, flinging it like a boomerang and with his "charming" personality, he didn't have to worry about loosing the card. Not that he would lose it, he could see perfectly well in the dark. It was proof, of a sort that his "demon eyes" were, after all, good for something.
Remy reached the entrance without delay, which, he had to admit – wasn't a surprise, the thugs that hung around after dark in these parts weren't fool enough to mess with a mutant, most especially not a mutant with his eyes.
It was a surprise though, that upon opening the door he was greeted with the sight of a moping cat-boy. His eyebrow rose of its own accord, and the boy had had plenty of time to sit up and take notice of his appearance.
"Remy wonders what you are doing up so late." He mused coming over and, when it didn't look as if his company would be taken amiss, sitting beside the other boy.
"I'm a mutant cat; I sleep eight hours in the day." The last was sarcastic, Remy knew – though not directed toward him but at the fact that the boy was a mutant, and was coming to realize that.
"That be fact then?" Remy murmured, amused despite his earlier words with Logan. His shoulders slumped in defeat as he seemed to decide to "come clean" about whatever wouldn't let him get to sleep.
"No, it's really just something stupid." The boy confessed softly, and Remy thought that among other things the other likely missed wherever he had called home. Remy knew better then to talk though, and keeping his words to himself paid off when the boy started speaking again.
"I want a glass of milk." The glint of fang, Remy supposed, was in part shown to be a warning. Remy paid it no heed as he chuckled, reminded all too strongly of a title of a book "if you give a mouse a cookie". He told Harry as much, and was oddly proud of himself when he caused the boy to laugh. Maybe, just maybe, things weren't as bad as he had told Logan.
"I have a fridge in my room; I likely have some milk up there." Remy was carefully avoiding thinking of a different sort of "cream", even as Harry grinned with something like delight. He would not think of letting the boy get drunk either. He had standards – morals, even when he felt his worst.
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Harry woke tucked against Remy's shoulder, in the fog before waking he mused on how safe he felt. Still, he knew something had woken him, and when he heard someone step down one of the stairs leading to the basement where Remy roomed with Fred and Mortimer one the other side of the room sleeping on bunk beds. Oddly, Remy slept on the couch by his miniature fridge.
A minute longer was all it took for him to realize why someone stomping down the stairs had woken him – there was no one else in the house (other then, perhaps, Fred) who would step with such force of weight. Harry jerked free from Remy, which – of course woke Remy, who cursed upon hearing the final step that it took to reach the floor.
"What do we have here?" Purred a woman with dark blue skin and red hair – darker, Harry knew in a glance, then of the woman who had attempted to invade his mind. Her lips twisted into something like a smile, but reminded Harry of something less pleasant and more predatory.
"Mystique, what are you doing here…early." Remy added the last word, as if in after thought. Harry didn't think Remy had fooled her with covering his lapse. Her eyes trailed, unconsidered over manners, from the top to the bottom of Harry's features. Her gaze finally met his, and he noticed her eyes were eerie amber.
"I've come to see the new recruit, but I see you've developed a fondness for him – I'm sure Pietro will be pleased." Harry flushed, for there was no doubt she had made up her own conclusions to their relationship – or lack there of – and nothing either of them said would change her mind. They might, instead, in fact – cement her conclusions.
"It is no business of yours." Remy growled out the words, spitting them bit by bit. Harry had the uneasy feeling that these two had a history.
"On the contrary, it is." Mystique smirked, undaunted, and of course Fred and Mortimer woke.
"In case you are wondering – Magneto is here, and he requests," she paused her eyes skimming over theirs, making it clear that this was not a request no matter how she worded it, "that you all make an appearance in your…kitchen." She sneered at the word, as if she didn't think the place deserved the title.
"You might want to take the time given to you in-between to make yourselves decent." Her gaze lingered pointedly on Harry, who couldn't help himself when he flushed, looking away first. He didn't look up again until he knew she was gone.
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Hermione had never been as venomous about her dislike of magical travel as Harry was famous for being, but she had always felt most comfortable with her feet firmly planted on the ground and no magical means of transportation within sight.
It had started with flying brooms, a thing Hermione was no good at and had no desire to be. Ron had never understood that, thought Harry had respected her enough not to question her choices.
So, when bright and early the morning following the worst sort of news she'd dealt with since having to face the fact that she and her best friends could die in a war that should have ended generations ago.
She felt it was quite understandable that she wanted to kill Ron for stuffing her into a "magical car" (which she could have forgiven him for if he hadn't called her "mulish") and having her endure hours of bumpy roads and quick turns that made her stomach want to flip out of her throat until nearly noon without so much as a word of explanation.
When they finally arrived at their destination, she was greeted to the sight of the curving iron gates of Hogwarts, which with a squeal of metal badly in need of oil – screeched open, while sending the hair at the back of her neck in tight curls.
It was with a stubborn set to her jaw and crossed arms that she was made to sit in the gardens of the courtyard, wondering what the hell Ron had been thinking to come here. In their school days, Dumbledore had been someone not even the Ministry would cross – but the Council was not the Ministry.
Their Council held power with every significant magical community crisscrossing the world's landmasses (and "cloud cities", and "underground metropolises", and even a few well known "sea worlds") so escape to another community would only result in being hauled back to the source of their troubles.
That was the thing though, the Council didn't have ties to non-magical communities, and though magical people and beings attempted to work closely with the non magical people, they were still considered outcasts and held at a distance out of wary regard, rather then, as the magical community likely thought, fear.
A spider caught her gaze, innocently making its way toward her. Only, if anyone could tell this wasn't an ordinary spider – it would be her, she knew its species, acromantula. The very same sort of magical spider that Ron and Harry had run across in their school days, slowly, Hermione smiled as she got an idea.
It crawled upon her hand and she slowly raised it to her face.
"I know what you are. I know you can understand me. Will you please…help me?" Hermione asked softly, knowing her life depended on its response did not make waiting any easier. Slowly the little head nodded. Hermione sealed her lips shut when dozens of little squirming spiders appeared, seemingly out of no where – all of them headed toward her.
"Hermione…!" Ron yelled from behind her, pale face making his freckles stand out bluntly. She remembered then that Ron had always been terrified of spiders, before he could think to stop her with magic she ran into the gardens that she knew led into the Forbidden Forest, hundreds – perhaps thousands – of little spiders scrambled franticly after her.
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Note; this is mainly for 917brat who wrote down all the questions I myself had wondered – my answers might surprise you; I know they helped me set in mind what I wanted to do. So, consider this a "sorry for not being around to update" gift.
What is/was Logan going to say? How will he react to Harry?
He'd either think the "kid" is damn annoying, or damned cute – which is why I'm not going to throw them together until something bad happens. Then he'll just be a little protective, instead of overbearingly so. Logan is mostly amused by Remy's crush and told him so.
When are they (the Brotherhood/X-Men) going to figure out about magic/how will they (the Brotherhood/X-Men) be reacting to it?
Remember the bad thing? Yeah, it's around that time, at first they'll be grateful, and then they'll start wondering if they can trust him – which is when…erk, never-mind….
When will they (the Brotherhood/X-Men) find out about the war?
About the time Harry starts to trust them enough to have nightmares. In other words, a little after the bad thing happens.
Why did Harry choose the name Trickster?
Mostly as a joke, because in the beginning they are going to think a lot of the magic he shows is actually his powers. Secondly, it honors the Marauders, which I think I can turn into a bonding point if Harry ever starts to have said nightmares….
How strong is Harry because of the war?
Think of a god walking around in the skin of a mutant and your pretty damn close. Of course, Harry is just too modest for his own good to use any of that untapped power, which might cause an issue I hadn't thought of until right now…I wonder if time travel or alternate dimensions would surprise anyone…
Is Harry going to prank Ron? Will spiders be involved?
No, not Harry – but as you just read the Acromantula are a critical element of an escape plan...
When are pairing(s) going to start?
They already have, but more then cuddling will happen….around the time the nightmares start.
What happened during the war/did Harry get any training?
Let's just say for now there was a lot of walking/ running involved, and he met a lot of deadly friends who will be very unhappy with what has happened after all their work to keep the boy alive during the war he just went and got himself involved in another conflict. They will be upset, but amused. Yes, they trained him. Though I want to see you guess what they are without me telling you. Yes, it's a magical creature he met in the books. Might even be more then one type…
Will Harry ever look like his normal self (without Prof. X's hologram tech) could he transform himself back with magic? – or use Animagus/ Metamorphmagus abilities?
He'd better look human before his "friends" show up, or they'll have a good laugh before giving him half helpful hints that'll drive him mad while trying to figure out the meaning "beneath" their words. Hologram tech won't really enter the picture before the nightmares and the bad thing. Magic and genetic mutations do not mix – so, he won't be using magic to change his physical form. This does not, however, mean he can't use Animagus/ Metamorphmagus skills later – after the "friends" make an appearance.
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