Magical Mutations (Ch. 4)

( Every character in this story is a legal adult over the age of 18 )

Magical Mutations

Chapter 4

Harry sat under the old oak at the edge of the lake with his back pressed to the rough bark and his knees drawn up. The sun hammered down from the pale blue sky, making the lake's surface glitter. He’d skipped lunch, but his stomach barely noticed. He was too busy trying to figure out exactly what he could do.

He stared at the far shore, where the line of birches cast a long, continuous shadow. He exhaled loudly and thought about the incident at the truck stop. The last time he’d teleported, it had been in pure panic. There was a gunshot, a rush of pain and terror, and then nothing but flame and weightlessness. Harry tried to replay it in his mind, but the memory wasn’t exactly crisp and clear. All he remembered for sure was the urge to get away … and then, he had.

He reached into his pocket and turned over one of the gold coins in his hand. Storm had given them back to him. Luckily, she went through the pockets before throwing away his torn and bloody clothes. The gold coin was smooth, heavy, and cool against his fingers. He stared at it, then closed his eyes and thought about teleporting. He didn’t want to just move a few feet, but all the way across the lake.

He opened his eyes, and the birch trees looked no closer than they were before. He sucked in a lungful of air and exhaled slowly, concentrating on his goal. Nothing happened except that he got mildly annoyed and frustrated. “Come on,” he whispered, trying to encourage himself. “Do it.”

He pictured himself on the far shore, underneath the birch trees’ shade. He squeezed his fists so hard his knuckles ached. Again, nothing happened. A bee buzzed near his ear, and he slapped at it, missing completely. Harry wiped his brow and tried again. This time, he stood up and locked his knees. He set his jaw, stared at the opposite bank, and imagined himself there with every fiber of his being. Harry groaned when nothing happened.

He remembered the feeling in the truck stop parking lot, and the way the fire had tickled his skin instead of burning it. It almost felt like he had been floating in space without any control. Maybe he’d been thinking about it wrong, Harry thought. Maybe it wasn’t about willpower. Perhaps he just needed to stop trying to control it and let his powers do the work. 

He sat back down. He closed his eyes, let his arms rest at his sides, and tried to remember the feeling of weightlessness. He pictured the night sky, the cold wind, and the scream of sirens fading into the background. He inhaled, and then, without warning, his skin flushed with heat, and his bones tingled like they were being tickled from the inside. The next instant, his vision filled with flicking orange light, and he had the distinct sense that gravity had lost its hold on him.

There was a loud whoosh, and then he was standing on the far shore. His foot instantly got tangled in a root, and he was thrown off balance. Harry’s momentum carried him into the undergrowth, and he face-planted in a tangle of ferns. The impact sent a jolt of pain up his nose and filled his mouth with vegetation. For a second, he lay there, stunned.

Then the adrenaline caught up, and he started laughing. He got up and spat out a leaf. The grass around him was scorched in a perfect ring where he’d landed, and his body tingled with residual heat. “I did it,” he said, and he couldn’t stop grinning. He punched the air, and his fist left a faint trail of smoke.

He wiped the sweat from his face, walked to the water’s edge, and looked back across the lake. He spotted the oak he had been sitting under on the opposite side of the lake. Harry shook out his tingling hands and tried to teleport again. This time, he focused on the oak tree. He pictured the exact patch of shadow where he’d been sitting. He relaxed, closed his eyes, and let his mind go blank.

The air flashed yellow, the world vanished, and Harry fell right on his ass at the base of the tree. The grass beneath him was warm and slightly smoking. He let out a whoop loud enough to startle a flock of birds into flight.

For the next hour, Harry practiced. He jumped from tree to tree, from one side of the lake to the other. Sometimes he overshot and slammed into a branch. Once, he ended up appearing in the middle of a thorn bush. His arms and hands got pretty scratched up as he climbed out. Thankfully, those small scratches disappeared almost as quickly as they were made. Every time he teleported, he got a little better at landing.

By the time late afternoon had arrived, Harry was sweaty, and his borrowed clothes were covered in grass stains, but he had the trick down. The feeling was addictive. The rush and power of being anywhere, anytime he wanted, was better than any drug. He sat at the base of the tree, smiling like a complete idiot. Now that he had it down, he needed to find the limitations of what he could do. 

Magical Mutations

The hallway outside Harry’s bedroom was empty, and the only sound was the soft click of Storm’s boots on the hardwood floor. She balanced a mug of coffee in one hand and rapped on the door with her knuckles. There was no answer. She waited a few seconds and tried again, knocking a little harder this time. There was still no answer. Storm wondered where he was. The Professor wanted a word with Harry, and he had sent Storm to find him. 

Storm tried the handle and found the door unlocked. She leaned in and called out, “Harry?” Her voice was pleasant and melodic, but there was a sharp undertone that made most people snap to attention.

The room was empty, and the bed was unmade. Storm huffed and scanned the space. The window was open, and the curtains were flapping in the breeze. She stuck her head outside and looked around, but didn’t see him. Maybe he’d gone for a walk, she thought.

She was about to close the window when a flash of fire erupted in the middle of the room. She was startled so much that the coffee in her hand jumped out of the mug, arched through the air, and splashed onto the floor. Storm yelped and whirled, dropping into a defensive crouch.

Harry stood there with a smile while a faint wisp of smoke curled off his collar. He looked sheepish and slightly exhilarated. Storm took a moment to recover. She put the mug down on his dresser, regarded him with a raised eyebrow, and asked, “Is this going to be a regular thing?”

Harry grinned sheepishly, but he was clearly still proud of his actions. “Sorry. My entrances are still a work in progress.”

Storm shook her head. “You scared me half to death.”

He gave her a lopsided, boyish grin. “If it helps, you startled me as well.”

“It doesn’t,” Storm replied, but her lips twitched at the corners. “Where have you been?”

“I’ve been outside, practicing,” Harry said. “I’ve been teleporting … or whatever this is called. I think I’ve got the hang of it,” he said as he bounced on his toes, eager to show off.

Storm smiled, a little proud despite herself. “That’s impressive … but next time, maybe warn me before you …” She made an exploding hand motion. “... pop in like that. I’d prefer to keep my eyebrows.”

Harry ducked his head, fighting a grin. “Noted.”

She picked up the mug and beckoned. “Come on. The Professor would like to talk to you, and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

The walk to Xavier’s office was spent answering Storm’s questions about his teleportation. He didn’t have many answers, considering he had just learned how to do it. Storm walked gracefully at his side, her eyes shining and her lips pulled into a smile as she listened to him talk. She was quite pleased with how quickly he was adapting to his new surroundings. 

They entered Xavier’s office, and Harry spotted him behind the desk, his hands folded on the desktop. His expensive, tailored suit was immaculate. He quietly studied Harry as he walked in with Storm by his side. Storm ushered Harry to a seat and took up position behind him, her arms folded over her impressive chest.

“Thank you, Ororo,” Xavier said. “You can stay.” Storm nodded. Xavier fixed Harry with a kind gaze. “I hear you made progress today.” He, of course, hadn’t heard it. Instead, he was reading Harry’s mind as he did his best to think through the problem and come up with a solution. Xavier was quite impressed.

Harry shrugged. “I figured out how to get from one place to another using my powers, but I’m not exactly an expert yet. Staying on my feet when reappearing is a bit tricky.”

“Teleportation is a rare ability,” Xavier said. “Yours seems … unique.”

Harry didn’t have much to say to that. He sat with his hands in his lap, fidgeting with a coin. Xavier caught the action and smiled. “I have some questions,” Xavier said. “Do you remember ever going to school?”

Harry considered the question and then shook his head. “I get flashes of things like books and desks. I sometimes get a vague memory of a teacher yelling at me, but nothing sticks. I know how to read, write, and do math, so I must have gone to school.”

Xavier nodded, as if this confirmed something. “How old are you?”

Harry hesitated. “I … don’t know.”

“From my examination, I believe he is around eighteen or nineteen … twenty, tops,” Storm interjected.

Xavier’s smile was gentle. “Then you are the perfect age to finish high school.” He steepled his fingers. “I’d like you to join Jean and Scott at Bayville High, starting next week.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “A regular school?”

“Nothing here is regular,” Xavier chuckled. “But you need to learn to blend in and socialize. You need to observe people and learn how to interact with them. We can’t always be what we are, Harry. Sometimes we have to pretend.” 

Harry looked at Storm, who gave him a small nod. “What if I lose control?” he asked. “What if I … flash out in front of people?”

Xavier smiled. “That’s why you’ll have Jean and Scott to help you, and in turn, you will help them. And if all else fails, I have a few tricks of my own that I can use,” he said with a knowing smile. 

Harry didn’t know what to say. “Is that all you wanted to talk about?”

Xavier leaned forward. “For now. Unless you have questions.”

Harry thought about it. “What if someone from my past finds me? What if I’m not supposed to be here?”

Xavier said, “If they come, we’ll handle it together. You’re safe here, Harry. You have my word.”

He didn’t know if that was true, but Xavier’s voice made it seem real. Harry nodded. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Xavier’s smile was serene, as if he’d expected nothing less. “Excellent. Ororo will help you prepare. Classes begin Monday.”

Storm clapped him on the shoulder and led him out. In the hallway, she stopped. “Are you nervous?”

Harry shrugged. “It can’t be worse than getting shot.”

She laughed. “That’s the spirit.” Harry couldn’t help but chuckle along with her. 

Magical Mutations

Harry lay on his bed with one leg propped on the windowsill and the other dangling off the mattress. The afternoon sun beat through the window and warmed his skin. He was rolling a stubby yellow pencil between his thumb and middle finger, lost in the quick flashes of memories that kept zapping his mind at random intervals. This time, the memory was of a classroom and a stern, older woman lecturing him about wasting time on nonsense. The woman’s face wouldn’t come into focus, but her tone was something he could never forget. He vaguely remembered making objects turn into completely different things. He gripped the pencil and held it upright.

Harry tried to remember how he’d done it before. To be fair, he wasn’t even sure he had done it before. He took a breath, held the pencil up, and imagined it being something else … like maybe a key, or a fork.

He felt a prickle start in his right shoulder and zip down his arm, and the pencil vibrated in his hand. He kept his eyes on the graphite tip. The wood trembled and shimmered, and suddenly, the pencil morphed into a stainless steel fork. Harry was shocked that it had been so easy. He tested the fork by flicking it with his finger, and he heard a metallic ping. Harry grinned happily and twirled it between his fingers. He barely had time to admire his handiwork before the door was kicked open with a loud bang.

“Harry!” Jean sang out, careening into the room like it was her own. She was in a pink tank top and cutoff shorts, and her red hair was in a messy ponytail. He thought she looked very attractive. She closed the distance in two steps, vaulted onto his bed, and wrapped herself around him like a python. Her body was very warm and soft, and her hair smelled really good.

She squished her face into his chest and hugged him tight, giggling as she did. “I heard you’re starting school with us next week!” Jean was pressed so close that he could feel the rapid thump of her heart. Harry chuckled and rubbed her back.

“Yeah,” Harry managed to say, though his words were muffled by her hair. “The Professor talked me into it.”

She pulled back just enough to look at him. Her smile was very beautiful, and her cute dimples made it even better. “You’re going to love Bayville. Sure, the people are a bit crazy, but at least you’ll never get bored.” Her gaze flicked to his hand, and she spotted the fork. “Were you planning to eat or something?”

“Nope,” he told her. “I was just practicing with my powers,” he said before concentrating. He felt the tingle again, let it build, and focused hard. The fork vibrated and reassembled itself as a perfectly new yellow pencil. Harry handed it to her, and Jean squealed in delight.

“Wow, that’s amazing,” she whispered, ruffling his hair before tossing herself onto her back and sprawling her legs across his lap. “I wish I could do that. Imagine the possibilities.”

Harry smiled and tickled her legs with his fingertips. “At least you can read minds. That would definitely be handy for tests.”

Jean propped herself up on her elbows and tossed him a smirk. “That’s not all I can do.” She grinned and concentrated. The pencil in his hand started shaking, and suddenly, it flew from his grip. It floated toward her, and she caught it out of the air. Harry whistled in appreciation. 

He was about to compliment her work when Storm appeared in the doorway. She wore a clingy blue dress that hugged every curve, and her white hair was drawn back in a regal braid. She gave the scene a quick once-over and smirked. “I see you’re getting comfortable, Jean.”

Jean smiled and put her hands behind her head. “I’m just making sure our Harry’s ready for Bayville’s rigorous social environment.”

Storm ignored Jean’s flirty sprawl and turned her attention to Harry. “We’re going to need to get you some new clothes.” She pointed at his outfit, which was a shirt borrowed from Scott, jeans two sizes too small, and black socks with blue athletic stripes. “If you show up at Bayville in that, the entire football team will try to murder you on principle.”

Jean rolled off Harry and shot upright, her eyes gleaming. “Shopping trip?!” She bounced in place, clapping her hands like a child on Christmas. “Storm, you’re the best.”

Storm tilted her chin and smirked. “The car leaves in ten. Jean, get your purse. Harry, brush your hair. Scott’s meeting us downstairs.”

Jean squeaked in excitement, tackled Harry in a hug again, and practically teleported out of the room. Harry lay back and stared at the ceiling, his body buzzing from the feel of Jean’s thighs squeezing his ribs. When the echo of her laughter faded down the hall, he pushed himself up, ran a hand through his hair, and checked his look in the mirror. He was starting to see the person everyone else saw. He was a guy with a body built for contact sports and a face that would make girls swoon. However, his hair was a different story. He tried his best to flatten it, and even the hairbrush could only do so much to tame its messiness. After doing all he could, he gave himself a final once-over, then jogged downstairs to meet up with them. 

Downstairs was a bit chaotic. Jean was doing high kicks at the base of the stairs, showing off the long, pale expanse of her legs. Scott was already there, wearing khakis, a blue pullover, and, as always, those weird ruby shades. Storm was by the front door, tapping away at her phone and pretending not to notice Jean’s shenanigans.

Scott looked up and nodded. “Are you ready for the worst day of your life, Harry?”

Harry shrugged. “I’ve had worse. I got shot by a redneck and sliced up by Sabertooth, remember?”

“This is worse,” Scott smirked. “These two are nuts when it comes to clothes,” he said, indicating to Jean and Storm. 

Storm clapped her hands. “Let’s go.” She herded them into the car, and Jean immediately called out shotgun. Harry and Scott were forced into the backseat, and Jean immediately dropped the window, stuck her head out, and whooped as Storm gunned the engine and peeled out of the mansion’s circular drive.

The mall was already packed by the time they got there. Inside, the noise was relentless. Music pounded from every store, kids ran around laughing and yelling, and the smell of pizza and hot pretzel dough wafted from the food court. Harry had never seen anything like it. The glass atrium above them threw sunlight in all directions, and the effect was dizzying.

Storm led the charge, her heels clicking against the floor as she cut through the crowd. “First stop, casuals,” she said, beelining for a store packed with mannequins in pastel polos and ripped jeans.

Scott hung back, looking in the opposite direction. “If you need me, I’ll be at the electronics shop,” he said, and then he was gone, almost running away from the impending doom of two fashion-loving women in a clothing store.

Jean stuck close to Harry, her hand never far from his wrist or elbow. In the store, she circled him like a predator, pulling shirts off racks, holding them up to his chest, and discarding them with ruthless speed. “No. No. Oh, definitely no. Ooh, this one!” She shoved a white V-neck and some black chinos at him. “Go try them on,” she commanded, leaving no room to argue. 

Harry barely got the dressing room door closed before Jean was outside it, peppering him with questions. “Do you like V-necks? Is it too tight? Can I see?”

He stepped out, and Jean wolf-whistled. “Damn, Harry! If you want to destroy the academic curve, show up in that. Every teacher will be too flustered to give you less than an A+.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but even Storm was smirking as she assessed the outfit. “That works,” she said, and then handed him three more shirts to try on.

It quickly became a competition of who could get him to try on more clothes. Jean picked things that she secretly wanted to see him wear, and Storm picked out things she knew would actually fit his body. Jean kept sneaking into the dressing area with an armload of increasingly weird clothes, which she would force him to try on. Of course, she cackled in amusement when he actually tried them on. 

When Jean convinced him to try on a pair of running shorts that barely cleared mid-thigh, she burst into a giggle fit. Harry huffed and began poking her in the ribs, making her jump around and squeal. Storm rolled her eyes and joined them. “I think that’s enough for this store. We don’t want to wear him out too fast, now do we?”

Jean saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

They raided two more stores, and by the end of it, Harry had a full new wardrobe. He had jeans that actually fit, button-downs, t-shirts, a variety of hoodies, and the aforementioned running shorts that Jean insisted they buy, even though Harry bluntly said he would never wear them again. Storm paid for everything with a credit card that Harry assumed belonged to Xavier.

The last stop was the shoe store. Storm sat on one of the benches to rest her feet. Her legs were crossed, which showed off a whole lot of silky-smooth skin. As Harry and Jean goofed off while picking shoes, Storm was forced to fend off multiple admirers who wanted nothing more than to have a chance with the sexy woman. After forty-five minutes, Harry finally came stumbling out of the store with four loaded bags in his hands. Jean was latched onto his back with her arms around his neck, and Harry groaned from the weight of the piggyback ride. 

Storm cleared her throat. “If you two are finished, I’d like to get out of here before the security guards call the Professor again.”

Jean stuck out her tongue, but hopped off his back nonetheless. She slung an arm around his waist and stuck close as they made their way back through the mall. Scott rejoined them outside the electronics store with two bags in hand.

“Did you get what you needed?” Storm asked as they walked up to him.

Scott shrugged with a smirk. “The only thing I needed was to be as far away from Jean’s craziness as possible.”

Jean grinned at him. “Look what I got him. Aren’t they great?” she asked, holding up the ridiculously short shorts. 

Scott ignored her and focused on Harry. “You ready for high school?”

Harry nodded. “As ready as I’m going to be.”

Scott looked at him and shook his head. “If you say so. Just don’t wear those shorts and you’ll be fine.”

Storm led the way out with the others joking and laughing behind her. They wove through the parking lot, past a couple making out against a car, and then into the relative quiet of the vehicle. On the drive back, Storm put on the radio, letting the soft music fill the silence. Jean curled up next to Harry and rested her head on his shoulder. Scott was in the front seat, dozing off.

Spending several hours shopping must have been quite taxing, Harry discovered, because he also found himself dozing off. Jean wiggled closer, and he slipped his arm around her shoulders and closed his eyes. Before he knew it, he drifted off with Jean’s warm breath tickling his neck.