Hello everyone! Before I start I would like to make a small preamble: this story is written in the original Italian and this English translation was made by an artificial intelligence, I hope to be able to correct any mistakes, if not I ask you to be lenient.
Enjoy reading and let me know what you think, readers' opinion always helps me to improve my work!
The prologue was short, but I wanted to leave you with doubt, although I guess you have guessed how the story will go on. To give you a better understanding of the context we are in, we are at the end of "Days of a Future Past," where everyone is alive and happy, so without taking into account what happened in "Dark Phoenix" (the ending of which I didn't understand how it fits in with the future seen in "Days of a Future Past") and Charles Xavier looks like Patrick Stewart ... at least at the beginning.
There are other things that I changed, others I made up just like that, out of thin air, for example Wanda should not be the age of a student but here she will be less than 30.
Happy reading.
2. Young again
The night had passed, dawn had come, the sun was high in the sky, a new day had begun.
Although many students had been keeping late hours, at that moment they were all awake and intent on breakfast.
Hank, who was in the kitchen with Jean, Scott, and Logan, looked worried.
"Is something wrong, Hank?" asked Jean "You don't have to read your mind to know you're upset."
Hank ran a hand over his hairy blue face.
"Must be fatigue," speculated Scott "Have you been up all night working on some project again?"
"Here," said Logan, handing him a beer, "It never hurts."
"No, no, thank you," he replied, "I don't feel like drinking beer right now. Yes, I'm tired because I spent the night reading about student research, but it's not that. Have any of you seen Charles?"
"He actually hasn't come down yet," said Jean, "He's usually the first one to wake up."
"Damn it!" exclaimed Hank "Too often we forget that although he is a very powerful telepath and is the backbone of this school, he is still an old man who is not physically self-sufficient!"
"Hank, you're worrying for nothing!" reassured him Jean "Like you said, he's a telepath, if he needed help he would have called us."
"What if he fell and hit his head and passed out?" he replied, as anxiety grew "I have to go check on him."
"We'll go with you," said Jean, who now understood why Hank was so worried "You might need help."
Logan put down the bottle.
"Let's go."
Everyone left what they were doing and walked briskly to the room where the Professor was sleeping; when they arrived it was Hank who knocked.
"Charles?" he called, "Charles? Are you awake?"
No answer.
"Charles!" cried Hank, banging on the wood, but still no one answered.
"Do we have to break it down?" asked Logan, who was starting to get really nervous.
"No need," Hank reassured him, "It never locks, just opens it ..."
Saying so, Hank lowered the doorknob and slowly opened the door, intimidated by what he might find inside the room: he imagined Charles lying on the floor, perhaps near his chair, having fallen in an attempt to climb in, but instead what he saw alarmed him even more.
Everyone had entered, the room was deserted, so Hank headed straight for the bathroom and there he saw, standing in front of the mirror, a man with his back turned, watching himself.
"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" asked Logan, with his usual grace "Where is the Professor? What did you do to him?"
The man slowly turned and looked at them; his eyes were shining from crying and he looked upset.
Logan wanted to shout again, but the man's appearance was somehow familiar to him, so he just watched him and waited for an answer.
Hank laid a hand on his shoulder to calm him down; Jean, Scott, and Ororo also seemed to recognize him.
"I can't believe it ..." he said, looking at Hank.
The man standing in front of them was tall, had thick brown hair and two remarkably blue eyes, and most importantly, he was wearing the Professor's pajamas.
"What happened?" asked Hank, approaching.
The man, who actually looked little more than a boy, wiped away his tears.
"I don't know, I haven't the faintest idea!" he said, coming out of the bathroom "I went to sleep and this morning I woke up like this. It felt like a dream, a strange dream, but suddenly I started to feel my legs, I touched my head and there was hair ... I don't understand ..."
Logan looked at him intently.
"Charles?" he asked, "Is it really you?"
He nodded.
"You've just seen me like this, haven't you?" he asked Logan, telepathically "When we met in the past I was only ten years older than I am now."
Logan merely nodded in response as Hank approached him, intrigued.
"Yes, it's really him," confirmed Jean, "it's really the Professor, although even I don't understand what happened ..."
Charles ran his hands over his face to wipe away his tears.
"That's right. It really is me. All of this is extraordinary. I feel great, like I did when I was in my twenties!"
"It will be good to investigate what happened, Charles," said Hank, who feared that something negative was behind it.
"I know that very well," Charles replied, "For the moment, if you don't mind, I'd like to get dressed and have some breakfast; I was supposed to meet with Miss Maximoff, but I'm afraid I'll have to postpone our interview, at least until we understand what happened."
Hank, relieved, nodded.
"I'm glad you feel that way too. What happened to you is too strange, it may have some consequences for those around you, for now ..."
"Get out of here," Charles concluded for him, "I have to change."
Everyone remained silent, embarrassed. Despite his youthful appearance, the one in front of them was still Charles Xavier; his gaze hardened them, so one by one they left the room.
Wanda was excited, she was about to meet Professor Xavier, Professor X! Peter had told her so much about him, she knew he was a powerful and wise mutant who, she was sure, would help her manage her powers.
She had just come out of her room, dressed carefully to make a good impression with the Professor, elegant but not formal, simple colors and shapes to contrast the complexity of her power: a red skirt, a white blouse and a sweater as red as the skirt. She felt good, she felt in control of herself, her emotions and her power, and she couldn't wait to start learning how to manage it to the fullest.
The Professor had given her an appointment in his office, so that was where she was heading when she was intercepted by Dr. Jean Gray.
"Oh, Wanda, I was just looking for you."
Wanda trembled, what could she want from her?
"Hem ... actually I'm supposed to meet Professor Xavier ..." she began, slightly ncomfortable, since she was already a few minutes late.
"No, you won't be able to see him, I'd better not for today, I'm sorry. He ..."
"Is he sick?" asked Wanda, and without meaning to, her mind went to what she had said the night before. Something inside her somehow told her that the Professor's state had something to do with what he had said. What exactly had he said? If he had the same body as when he was not yet a paraplegic? Something like that? She did not remember ...
"Wanda, what happened last night?" asked Jean, who, sensing the girl's concern, had allowed herself to read her mind-perhaps she was the key to finding out what had happened.
Wanda did not answer but seemed embarrassed.
"Don't worry," Jean reassured her, "But now I would like you to come with me to the Professor, you could answer a few questions."
Charles felt fine. Just fine. Great. He was happy with the situation, although the pessimistic part of him suggested it would not last long. There was plenty of happiness but not enough to quell the anxiety from not knowing why and how it had happened. He was beginning to evaluate the possible dynamics that had led him to have that body when Jean entered followed by Wanda.
Wanda stirred; in the room was a man who looked nothing like Professor Xavier: he was young and, more importantly, he walked.
"Not now, please," she said, "Jean, you know very well that ..."
Charles paused, looking at the two he realized that they were there for him.
He had dressed carefully, choosing clothes appropriate to his new apparent age; he had neglected the usual gray suit and pulled out his old clothes, more informal and comfortable, suitable for walking. Noticing that Wanda was watching him doubtfully, he smiled at her.
"Don't worry, Wanda," he told her, "I'm Charles Xavier, that's me. Tell me, Wanda, your powers alter reality, is that correct?" he asked her.
Wanda nodded.
"I read her mind earlier," Jean said and, ignoring Wanda's resentful expression, continued, "When I told her he couldn't meet with her because he was indisposed she thought of something he had done last night."
Charles smiled at her, reassuringly, as he would have done with any of his students who had messed up.
"Don't worry, Wanda," he told her, "Sit ...or stand, as you prefer. Don't mind me, I'll stand, now that I have the chance."
Wanda sat down.
"It was me," she said, before anyone could ask her a question, "I was explaining my powers to the other students, and to give an example, I said I could restore his body to the way it was before he became a paraplegic. I didn't think it would work, in order to make what I say come true I have to put intention into it, but every once in a while I lose control and, even if I don't really want to, the things I say happen ..."
Jean sighed with relief, and Charles laughed heartily.
"Then I have to thank you, Wanda," he told her, "I didn't understand what happened to me, we feared the worst, but apparently you helped me. Of course, the consequences are definitely extreme, but I can't say I'm sorry."
Wanda, reassured, smiled.
"I'm happy for you, Professor."
"This, however, is something we'll have to work on," the Professor continued, suddenly turning serious "If you really don't have control over what you make happen, you might even do some damage. Don't get me wrong," he said immediately, seeing her uncomfortable "In my case you did me a favor, but you can't know if, in the future, by accidentally speaking, you might hurt someone instead."
Wanda blushed, despite the fact that she was older than the Professor's students and he at that moment showed little less than her age, she felt intimidated by him, perhaps because of his look, perhaps because of his reputation or the situation in general.
"You don't have to worry," he reassured her, "All powers, in different ways, can be dangerous or can bring benefits, depending on how they are harnessed. You don't have to feel different than all the students who came here."
The professor's voice was calm and reassuring, so she relaxed as well.
"Jean," he said, turning to the telepath, "Go to the others and report back that we have resolved the situation and that we will meet in my office this afternoon around 3 p.m. to discuss it in more detail. For now," he said, looking at Wanda, "I need to start my class with you."
Jean nodded.
"Don't worry," she said to Wanda, "The Professor knows what he is doing, he will be able to help you."
Wanda smiled.
"I know."
Two hours had passed since Wanda had entered his office and revealed to him that she was the cause of his physical change.
At first he had been frightened, then he had been moved, then he had started making a list of possible causes, and now that he knew, he had calmed down: he was young and healthy and it was not going to change, so it was worth his while to enjoy it fully.
Although he was eager to enjoy his new body, he had patiently waited until the end of the session with Wanda, talked to her focusing solely on her and her fascinating power, had her do some exercises, and then suggested meditation exercises for her to do every day to be aware of her own words and thoughts at all times. It was not going to be easy, at least at first, but he had seen that Wanda was motivated and from that point of view he felt comfortable.
He dismissed Wanda with his usual kindness, and when she had left, he too followed her out of his office and ran to his room, where he exhumed from the closet some even more comfortable clothes suitable for running.
He looked at the clock: it was just past noon.
He went to the kitchen, quickly prepared a sandwich, wrapped it and put it in his pocket. It seemed amazing how quickly his body had adapted to the new situation, he felt no fatigue, he was full of energy. He closed his jacket pocket so that the sandwich would not fall out and headed for the back exit to make a run for it and get back in time for the meeting with the others.