Magical Mutations (Ch. 3)

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

Magical Mutations

Chapter 3

The ride back to the mansion was awkwardly quiet. Harry sat in the backseat of the silver car, with Storm at the wheel and Logan riding shotgun. Storm’s driving was controlled and precise, though she appeared to be doing twice the posted speed limit the entire way. Logan seemed perfectly at ease with his feet up on the dash, his arms crossed over his chest, and a cigar clenched between his teeth.

Harry drifted in and out of awareness as the minutes passed. He ran his finger along his orbital bone, which Sabertooth had shattered only minutes before, and felt nothing. Every injury he’d picked up during the fight was gone. There were no bruises, no broken bones, and not a single ache could be felt. He flexed his hand and concentrated. A pinprick of light blinked into existence before he quickly snuffed it out. He glanced up, met Storm’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and got the sense she’d been watching him do it.

They left the highway and wound through a series of well-kept neighborhoods. The houses grew larger and more expensive as they went. Out of the window, Harry could see gated driveways, tennis courts, and swimming pools reflecting the moonlight. Harry lost track of how many turns they made, but at last Storm punched in a code at a stone gate. After traversing a half-mile of driveway lined with trees, they reached a mansion so massive and ornate that it could have been a five-star hotel. Storm pulled the car into a private garage the size of a small warehouse. They parked between a black Rolls-Royce and an Aston Martin.

Logan leaned over and clapped Harry on the shoulder before getting out. “Nice place, huh?” He grinned around the cigar.

Harry shrugged. “I’ve stayed in worse.”

Logan barked out a laugh that echoed off the concrete walls. “Me too, kid.”

Storm came around and opened Harry’s door. Her hair looked even brighter under the garage lights, and her outfit was quite tight. Harry took a moment to appreciate her womanly curves.

“This way,” she said, sounding even more concerned now that she got a good look at him in the light. Looking down at himself, Harry winced. With the state of his clothes and the amount of blood on them, it looked as though he had been run over by a semi-truck.

At this very early hour, the mansion was mostly quiet. Even so, Harry saw movement at the end of the corridor. If he wasn’t mistaken, he saw a flash of red hair bouncing around the corner. Storm led him through the main hall, where a marble staircase divided the room. They passed under the stairs and into a side passage lined with wood paneling and glass display cases. At the end of the hall, Storm pushed open a door and flicked on the lights.

It was a medical lab, but not the kind Harry vaguely remembered. Everything was perfectly clean, and the surfaces were gleaming. Storm gestured at the exam bed. “Sit. I need to take a look at you.”

Harry obeyed, his curiosity pushing aside his discomfort. He noticed how Storm’s entire demeanor changed when she went into medical mode. She put on a white lab coat and gloved up before setting out instruments and prepping a blood pressure cuff. “Remove your shirt, please.”

Harry peeled off his shredded t-shirt and felt a little self-conscious as he exposed his chest. Storm didn’t react, but her eyes narrowed slightly as she saw the marks on his torso. There weren’t many, and the ones there faded as she watched. She pressed her palm flat to his sternum. “You’re not in any pain?” she asked.

“Not anymore,” Harry said. “Is that normal?”

Storm smiled just enough to show a dimple at the edge of her mouth. “Normal is a relative term here.”

She ran through a quick exam. She checked his reflexes and pupils, then pulled out a stethoscope to listen to his heart and lungs. Every step of the way, her touch was gentle but clinical. When she finished, she took a small blood sample and dropped it into a machine. It hummed quietly.

Harry picked up his shirt to put it back on, but decided it was pointless. There were more holes than material. “You’re not going to ask me to bend over and cough, are you?”

That time, Storm let herself laugh. “Not at this time.”

Logan stuck his head in, gave Harry a thumbs up, and then leaned against the wall. “He’s still in one piece, I see.”

“He’s healing abnormally fast,” Storm said. “I’d say his baseline is enhanced, though I can’t be sure yet.”

“Figured as much,” Logan grunted.

Harry looked at them both. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Storm looked at Logan before saying, “We’ll explain, but first I need to talk to the Professor.” She pressed a button on the wall and spoke clearly. “He’s here. We’re in MedLab.”

There was a pause, and then a new voice filled the room. “Thank you, Ororo. Please see to his comfort. I will meet you in your office after you are done.”

Storm inclined her head. “Understood, Professor.”

Logan looked Harry over. “You hungry, kid?” Harry’s stomach growled before he could answer. “I’ll get food,” Logan said, and with that, he left. Harry could hear his boots thudding off down the corridor.

Storm peeled off her gloves and tossed them into a disposal bin. She pointed at a door on the far side of the lab. “There’s a safety shower in there, if you want to get cleaned up. There’s a set of medical scrubs in there that you can wear.”

Harry hesitated before nodding. He went into the bathroom. The room was big, and the floor tiles were very cold. The shower had four heads and a set of mysterious dials. Harry turned them until steam started billowing out. He stripped and stepped in. The heat was almost overwhelming at first, but it felt good, and he scrubbed away the grime and dried blood.

He stood under the spray for a long time, trying to empty his mind. The more he tried, the more the memories crowded in. All he could think about was the flash of fire, the thrill of power, and the memory of a wand in his hand. A part of him wanted to hide from it all, but another part relished the chaos. He wondered if this was what it felt like to go mad.

Harry turned off the water and reached for a towel. There was a set of clean scrubs folded on the counter. They were pale blue, soft, and far nicer than the thin, scratchy things he expected. He dressed and then looked in the mirror. He barely recognized the person staring back.

When he went back into the lab and found Storm sitting at the desk, scrolling through data on a computer. She didn’t look up. “Feeling any better?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He paused. “Is it always like this?”

She gave him a look. “Like what?”

Harry tried to put it into words. “Like you’re a ticking time bomb, and you’re just waiting to go off?”

Storm shot him a kind smile. “It gets easier … for some people, at least.” She looked at him with pity, maybe, or possibly understanding. “You want to know the secret?” He nodded. “You find people who don’t mind standing close when you do go off.” She held his gaze for a moment before standing up and smoothing out her white lab coat. “Are you ready to meet the Professor?”

Harry shrugged. “Why not?”

She led him through the hallways, up a flight of stairs, and to a room filled with books and the scent of old, musty paper. A bald man sat in a wheelchair at the window with his hands folded neatly in his lap. He wore a dark suit and had a look of calm that was almost eerie.

“Mr. Potter,” the man said. “I’m Charles Xavier. Welcome to my school.” Harry stood in the doorway, unsure what to do with his hands. Xavier smiled. “Please, come in. Sit.”

Harry took a seat across from the Professor. Storm hovered just behind his chair, silently supporting him. Xavier studied Harry like someone appraising a dangerous animal and wondering how best to approach. “Ororo tells me you had quite an eventful night.”

Harry managed a half-laugh. “You could say that.”

Xavier leaned forward. “I’m sure you have many questions. I will answer what I can.”

Harry stared at the Professor. “What am I?”

Xavier considered his response. “You are a mutant, Harry, like many of the young people here, but I suspect there is more to it than that.” He nodded at Storm. “Ororo says your healing factor is remarkable, and the display of power she witnessed … was it the first time?”

Harry nodded, but then changed his mind and shook his head. “No … but it’s the first time I remember doing anything like it.”

Xavier’s eyes flickered with interest. “Do you remember anything else? Family, friends, your past?”

Harry shook his head. “Only bits and pieces, but it’s like … like trying to hold onto smoke.”

Xavier nodded in understanding. “Memory suppression can be a side effect of certain trauma, especially when amplified by external forces. We will help you recover what you can, Harry. You’ll be safe here.”

For some strange reason, Harry believed him, at least for now. Storm stepped forward. “He fought Sabertooth tonight, Professor, and survived it. Logan thinks he could have held his own even if we hadn’t shown up.”

Xavier’s eyebrow raised, but instead of being surprised, he appeared thoughtful. “Sabertooth is not an easy foe. The fact that you survived speaks volumes.”

Harry’s mouth twitched. “So what now?”

Xavier smiled warmly. “Now, you rest and heal. Tomorrow, we’ll introduce you to the others. I think you’ll find you’re not nearly as alone as you think.”

Harry stood, not sure whether to thank him or just leave. Xavier watched him go, and as Harry reached the door, the Professor said, “If you have questions, ask them. There are no secrets in this house, except the ones you choose to keep.”

Harry nodded and left the office with Storm at his side. In the hallway, she said, “We’ll find you a room.”

Harry thanked her and quietly walked beside her. He noticed how her hair caught the light and the way her hips bounced as she moved. She noticed his attention and gave him a half-smile. “Is something wrong?”

Harry’s face flushed, and he looked away. “I’m just not used to any of this.”

She stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll get used to it, Harry. I know it feels strange being somewhere new. Just give it some time.” He didn’t really know what to say, so he kept his mouth shut.

As Storm led him down the corridor, Harry saw a very attractive girl with vivid red hair. She shot him a kind smile and ducked into a room. Harry wondered what her story was. He followed Storm, letting her take the lead, but already his mind was racing. He wondered what he had just gotten himself into.

Magical Mutations

Harry woke around noon with a tongue that felt like sandpaper and a vague sense that his entire body had been used as a sparring dummy. Thankfully, he wasn’t sore. He blinked at the pale blue ceiling. Sunlight broke through the gap in the heavy curtains and cut across the rumpled sheets. He lay there, eyes open, and tried to make sense of the last twelve hours.

He remembered the truck stop, the bullet, and the fire that had crackled through him. Then there was the monster in the house … Sabertooth was his name. He thought about the fight that left the entire house crumbled. Then he remembered the sexy white-haired woman, Storm, and the gruff, cigar-scented Logan. The last thing he remembered was Storm walking him to a room and telling him to sleep as long as he needed.

His stress headache evaporated almost as soon as it appeared. What remained was a gnawing hunger in his belly and a mild sense of curiosity. He rolled out of bed and padded barefoot across the carpet, the medical scrubs twisting awkwardly around his thighs. The room was larger than any bedroom he’d ever seen. It could have doubled as a hotel suite. There was a TV sitting on top of a small table. The closet was so big it had its own light. The dresser drawers were empty, but Harry checked all of them anyway.

He found a bathroom tucked off to the side and opened the door. The tiles were white and gleaming, and there was a huge glass shower. There was a stack of fresh towels, and more personal care products than he knew what to do with. There was shaving cream, razors, scented soaps, half a dozen toothbrushes in sealed wrappers, and three flavors of mouthwash. Even the toilet paper was folded in a neat triangle. Harry washed his face and stared at his reflection, which looked a bit less like a corpse than the night before.

He ran a hand through his hair and tried to imagine what the Professor had said. He said something about memory suppression and the whole “you’re special, but not normal” routine. It was comforting, in a way. At least there was a reason he felt so off. There was an explanation, even if it didn’t make sense.

He dried off his face, finished his business, and padded back into the bedroom, letting his gaze wander. The emptiness of the room made his chest feel hollow. He had nothing. He suddenly remembered the gold coins and rifled through the pockets of the scrubs. He then realized he’d left them in the medical lab the night before. They were still in the pocket of his torn and bloody jeans. He only hoped Storm hadn’t accidentally thrown them away.

He swore softly and looked at the time. It was 12:19 PM. He decided that if he was going to be the “new guy” in a house full of mutants, he might as well shower first. Five minutes later, Harry emerged from the bathroom still wearing his scrubs. He ran a towel through his wet hair. Once it was as dry as he was going to get it, he tossed the towel back into the bathroom. With nothing left to do, Harry opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. Someone immediately barreled into him at full speed.

He collided with a wall of soft, warm flesh. For a split second, he thought he was being attacked again, but the weight was all wrong. It was lighter and decidedly curvier. The girl bounced off his chest, spun in the air, and landed flat on her ass with a yelp and a spray of red hair. The girl glared up at him, rubbing her tailbone. She had a beautiful heart-shaped face, a few faint freckles across her nose, and a mane of red hair that spilled down her back in thick waves. Her eyes were a deep, vivid green. She wore tight black leggings and a green tank top that strained at the bust.

As she picked herself up, her breasts did a small jiggle that Harry could not help but notice. She cocked her head and smiled mischievously. “Well, hi. You must be the new guy. Storm told me they brought someone in.”

Harry swallowed. “Uh … Yeah. I’m Harry. Sorry, I wasn’t …”

“Watching where you were going?” she finished his sentence. She held out her hand. Harry took it, and she yanked herself to her feet, stumbled, and accidentally pressed her body against his. Harry reached out and steadied her. She smiled prettily and took a step back. She brushed the dust off her ass and looked him up and down. “Don’t worry. You didn’t break anything.” She pointed at his scrubs. “Nice look, by the way.”

He felt his ears turning red. “I didn’t have a chance to do laundry,” he muttered, which made her laugh out loud.

“Jean Grey,” she said with a smile. She stepped back and leaned against the door frame, her arms crossed under her chest. “Welcome to Xavier’s.”

He managed a weak smile. “Thanks.”

Jean’s gaze flicked to his outfit. She bit her lower lip, not trying to hide the fact that she was staring. “So, are you trying to start a new fashion trend or what?”

Harry shrugged. “The closet’s empty, and I don’t really have anything else to wear.”

She pushed off the door and sidled up to him, close enough that he could smell her shampoo. “Well, that’s a shame. Come on, we’ll fix that. I know just the place.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but Jean didn’t give him the chance. She grabbed his wrist and towed him down the hallway. The corridor was empty, but Harry was keenly aware of every camera and mirror they passed. Jean kept glancing at him with a sly, sideways smile.

“So, what’s your deal?” she asked. “You know … Your mutation?”

Harry thought about it. “I have no idea. They said it was complicated.”

Jean nodded as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “Trust me, around here, that’s basically a requirement.” She led him past a series of closed doors. “You’ll like it here. The food is decent, the beds are soft, and nobody cares if you blow up the bathroom by accident.” That made Harry chuckle.

They turned a corner and nearly ran into a tall, broad-shouldered guy with perfect posture. He wore a blue polo shirt tucked into khakis, with freshly shined loafers. The only weird part was the sunglasses. They were ruby red and completely out of place indoors.

Jean let go of Harry’s wrist and skipped up to the guy. “Scott! This is Harry, the new mutant the Professor found. Harry, this is Scott Summers.”

Scott gave Harry a firm, businesslike handshake and an appraising glance. His jawline could cut granite. “Welcome to the madhouse,” Scott said. “If you need anything, let me know.”

Harry smiled kindly and nodded. “It’s nice to meet you … and I will.”

Jean, still standing close to Scott, thumped him on the shoulder. “We’re raiding your closet,” she told him, already pushing past. “Harry needs some temporary duds.”

Scott didn’t object, but he turned to Harry. “Did they give you a room already?”

“Yeah. It’s, uh … very clean.”

Scott smiled tightly. “Make sure it stays that way, or Storm will chew you out.” He looked at Jean. “You want help with the closet?”

Jean shot him a withering look. “No, I’ll handle it. You’d just make him wear one of your ugly ties.”

Scott looked like he wanted to argue, but instead, he shrugged and leaned against the wall. “See you at dinner, Harry. Watch out for this one,” he warned, jabbing his thumb at Jean.

Jean rolled her eyes and dragged Harry into the room. Scott’s room was the polar opposite of Harry’s. The shelves were lined with textbooks and trophies, and there was an assortment of protein shake powders on the dresser. The closet was overflowing with button-down shirts, jeans, and khakis, all sorted by color and sleeve length.

Jean ran her hands along the racks, humming to herself, and yanked out a pair of dark jeans and a gray t-shirt. “Here,” she said, tossing them onto the bed. “Try these on. I’ll look away if you’re shy,” she teased, expecting him to stutter out an objection. However, unbeknownst to her, the Phoenix was the embodiment of passion, and it burned inside of him.

He couldn’t understand why he did it, but his shirt was tossed away in the blink of an eye. Jean’s eyes widened, and as soon as he began tugging down his trousers, she let out a loud, “EEP!” and turned around. Harry could see her cheeks burning pink as she covered her eyes. He laughed heartily and grabbed the clothes from the bed.

The jeans were a bit tight in the thigh, and the shirt clung to his shoulders like a second skin. “You can turn around,” he assured her. Jean lowered her hands and tentatively looked at him. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that his naked penis was securely packed away in those tight jeans.

“You clean up good,” she said, raking her eyes over him.

He adjusted the neck hole of his shirt. “Do I have to wear the sunglasses, too?”

She laughed. “No. Scott only wears them because he has no other choice.” She walked a slow circle around him, inspecting the fit. Her fingertips lingered on his shoulders as she brushed imaginary lint away. She ran her palm down his arm, then stepped back to get the full view. “Not bad. You almost look like you belong here.”

Harry adjusted the jeans. “I really wish I had some underwear,” he suddenly stated. Jean’s eyes widened comically.

“I completely forgot about those,” she said and then burst into a giggle fit. “Don’t tell Scott you were freeballing in his favorite jeans. He’d be devastated,” she said through the giggles.

“Trust me. That information is between you and me,” Harry laughed out. Jean continued to giggle as she got him some socks and sneakers.

After he put them on, Jean walked closer until she was almost touching him. He could feel her body heat and smell her perfume. She straightened out his clothes and nodded in satisfaction. She then pulled away and winked. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”

They left Scott’s room, and Harry half-expected to see Scott standing guard outside, but he was already gone. Jean took him on a whirlwind tour of the gym, the cafeteria, and the rec room. Harry asked many questions and did his best to keep up. The entire time, Jean never left his side. She guided him with a hand at his lower back, or she would hook her arm through his. Harry noticed the way her hips moved, the way her hair bounced when she laughed, and the way her eyes seemed to shine when she smiled.

At one point, Jean steered him into the library and found a quiet alcove behind a stack of encyclopedias. She sat him down, perched on the edge of a table, and crossed her legs with casual elegance. The pose did nothing to hide her curves.

She leaned forward and asked in a quiet voice, “So, are you really an amnesiac, or is that just your cover story?”

Harry smirked. “If it’s a cover, it’s working exceptionally well. Even I believe it.”

She laughed. “Good answer. Around here, you need a sense of humor. Most of us would lose our minds otherwise.”

He studied her, fascinated by how easy she took everything. “So what’s your story?”

Jean gave a sly smile. “I’m just your average mutant. You know … mind reading and telekinesis … the usual party tricks.”

They spent the next hour in the library, talking about every little thing they could think of. Jean asked him about his favorite food, his favorite color, and his favorite movie. He obviously didn’t have an answer for most of her questions. Harry asked her about the school she went to, which was called Bayville High. She answered everything honestly, with a kind of bluntness that Harry appreciated.

It felt easy being around her. Maybe too easy, Harry thought. He tried not to let his mind wander to thoughts of her soft lips, her wide hips, or all the other impressive body parts she possessed. He failed miserably. Eventually, Jean stood and stretched, and her shirt rode up just enough to show a smooth sliver of skin. “We should get food before I get hungry. I tend to get cranky when I haven’t eaten.”

She led him out of the library and down a side corridor. The lunchroom was already filled with food, and the smell of melting cheese was strong enough to make Harry’s stomach rumble. Jean loaded a tray with pizza, salad, a mountain of fries, and two cans of soda. She snagged a table in the corner, next to a window that overlooked the grounds.

They ate side by side, knees touching under the table, and Jean told him the real rules of the mansion. Number one was don’t piss off Logan. Number two was not to try to pull a fast one on the Professor. Apparently, he could read minds as well. Harry tried to eat slowly, but the hunger was too much. Jean watched him with amusement, popping fries into his mouth when he wasn’t paying attention.

After lunch, they wandered the grounds. The mansion’s backyard was a full-blown park, with a lake, a running trail, and a massive garden. Jean skipped rocks on the lake and told him stories about all the crazy things that had happened to her at school.

By the time they looped back to the mansion, it was already well into the afternoon. Jean stopped at the back door and turned to face him. She was close again, and Harry could see the little flecks in her green irises.

“How was your first day here?” she asked with a smile.

Harry smiled back. “Better than I expected,” he honestly told her.

She brushed a thin bundle of hair behind her ear and smirked. She could obviously tell that he was a bit smitten with her. “Well, I need to go finish up this weekend’s homework,” she said. “Come find me after dinner. I’ll show you my favorite spot in the whole house.”

Harry watched her walk away, and his eyes were glued to her swaying hips. She flipped her hair as though she knew he was looking. Harry smiled and shook his head when she disappeared into the mansion.

“I think I’m going to like it here,” Harry said with a smirk.