Chapter 6

As the X-Jet touched down at Xavier's Mansion, Harry could hardly believe his eyes. The mansion looked like something out of a really cool fantasy novel—if that novel also had a high-tech flying jet parked in the driveway. The place was sprawling, like a cross between a Hogwarts castle and a very fancy country club, but somehow with more mutant-friendly vibes. If that even made sense.

Logan let out a satisfied grunt as he powered down the engines. "Here we are, kid," he said, as if landing a spaceship was just another Tuesday for him. "Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters. Or, as we like to call it around here—'Home of the X-Men, where the cool kids hang out.'"

Harry shot him a sideways glance. "Seriously?"

Logan just shrugged, giving him a smirk that said, "You're gonna have to get used to my charm."

Storm, sitting next to Logan in the cockpit, gave Harry a soft smile. "Welcome, Harry. You're going to fit right in here."

"Thanks!" Harry said, trying not to bounce out of his seat like an over-caffeinated puppy. This place already felt... right. Whatever weirdness was about to go down, he was ready for it.

The hatch opened with a hiss, and Harry climbed out of the jet. He was met by a man in a wheelchair, wearing a suit that probably cost more than Harry's entire wardrobe. That's when he remembered—this was Professor Charles Xavier, the guy who made telepathy seem like a totally normal superpower.

"Ah, Harry," Xavier said with a warm smile, his voice rich with that soothing authority that made you want to sit up straighter and listen. "Welcome to Xavier's Institute. I trust the flight was comfortable?"

"Definitely," Harry replied, still buzzing with excitement. "This place is incredible."

Xavier chuckled. "I'm glad you like it. We take pride in making our guests feel at home."

Harry's gaze shifted to the two kids standing beside Xavier—both of them looking like they had just stepped out of a superhero comic. One was a girl with flaming-red hair that looked like it could set the whole room on fire, but in a totally cool, non-disastrous way. The other was a guy with these dark sunglasses, even though it was clearly not sunny out. He was standing with that kind of "I'm too cool for this" posture that Harry couldn't help but notice.

"This is Scott Summers," Xavier continued, nodding toward the boy in sunglasses. "And this is Jean Grey."

Jean gave him a warm, welcoming smile that made Harry feel like he'd just walked into a hug without even realizing it. Her eyes, though—those were a different story. They felt like they were seeing through him, like she could read every embarrassing thought he'd ever had. Harry couldn't help but shift uncomfortably.

"Nice to meet you, Harry," Jean said, her voice smooth, yet with a depth to it that made Harry feel like there was more going on beneath the surface. She reached out, placing a hand on his arm, and something... electric passed between them. Harry didn't know how to explain it—like a weird connection that felt both comforting and unsettling at the same time. It was like the entire universe decided now was a good time to give him an emotional whiplash.

"Your features," Harry blurted, before he could stop himself. "They remind me of someone. My mom—Lily. People have told me about her, and... there's something about you that feels so familiar. Like I've been waiting to meet you."

Jean's smile softened, and Harry could have sworn the air around them warmed just a little bit. "I'm honored to remind you of your mother, Harry," she said gently. "If you ever want to talk about her, or anything else, I'm here for you."

Harry nodded, blinking a few times. It was like a weight he hadn't realized was on his shoulders lifted just a little bit. For the first time since he'd arrived in this weird, new world, he felt like he might actually belong here.

Just as Harry was about to thank her, Scott—who had been very much in the background up until this point—suddenly spoke up, breaking the moment. "Can we go inside already?" he asked, his voice sharp with impatience. "It's freezing out here, and I've got important stuff to do."

Harry blinked. Was he serious? The kid was practically oozing "I'm the most important person in the room" energy.

Jean didn't miss a beat. She shot him a look that could have frozen a lake. "Scott," she said, her voice firm but still gentle, "That wasn't appropriate. Harry is our guest. We should be treating him with respect."

Scott just shrugged, unbothered. "Yeah, whatever," he muttered. "Let's just move on."

The awkwardness hung in the air like a bad smell. Jean sent Harry an apologetic look, her eyes silently promising to deal with Scott later. Harry just shrugged. "It's cool," he said, trying to keep things light. "I get it. He's probably having one of those days, right?"

Jean gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks for understanding, Harry."

As they made their way inside the mansion, Harry couldn't help but notice the crazy vibe between him and Jean. There was this strange pull, like something cosmic was just waiting to unfold between them. He didn't know what it was, but it felt... important. And given the way the world had been throwing weirdness his way lately, he wasn't about to ignore it.

They walked through the halls, and it was like stepping into a different world. The mansion was huge, and every room looked like it could be a set from one of those fancy superhero movies. As they moved through the mansion, Harry couldn't help but glance back at Jean. There was something in the way she moved, the way her eyes seemed to carry an ancient weight, as if she had seen and experienced more than anyone could possibly imagine.

And deep down, Harry knew—this was just the beginning. Something huge was about to unfold. Something that would change everything.

But for now, he was just trying to keep it together and not totally freak out about meeting real-life superheroes. Baby steps.

—

As they walked through the massive doors of Xavier's Mansion, Harry felt like he'd just stumbled into a live-action version of a mutant superhero comic book. You know, the ones where everyone has an over-the-top origin story and powers that are way cooler than yours? Yeah, this was like that. But with fewer capes and more awkward stares.

Jean led the way, walking with the confidence of someone who definitely knew how to bend the universe to her will. Her red hair, still fiery even in the soft mansion light, seemed to glow a little as she grinned back at Harry. "Welcome to the madhouse, or as we like to call it, home sweet home," she said, her voice warm and full of that "you're going to love it here" energy that made Harry feel like he actually could.

Scott, however, looked like he was trudging through a five-mile-long homework assignment. He was ahead of them, all stiff shoulders and narrow eyes, making it clear he was not thrilled to be there. In fact, if looks could kill, Jean might have been dust by now, based on how Scott was glaring at her.

Harry, meanwhile, was trying to take everything in without his head exploding. There were kids floating past him, some walking through walls, others tossing fireballs around like they were throwing a beach ball at the park. The whole mansion was buzzing with energy, and it felt like Hogwarts had been dropped into the middle of the X-Men universe, with a little bit more... chaos.

"Hey, new kid!" a voice shouted, and Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. Turning, he saw a girl with a white streak running through her dark hair leaning against the wall, her arms crossed in that "I'm here to judge you" way that made Harry feel like he'd just walked into a beauty pageant for superheroes.

"Rogue, knock it off," Jean said with a smirk.

Rogue gave Jean a sassy grin. "Nah, I'm just doin' my job. Gotta give the new guy a proper welcome." She turned to Harry, her Southern accent as thick as a gumbo pot. "So, you're the one everyone's been buzzin' about. Heard you've got powers like mine. What's the deal with that?"

Harry scratched his head awkwardly. "I, uh, I guess I have some powers. But I don't know about like yours."

Rogue raised an eyebrow, like she was trying to figure out whether to believe him or not. "We'll see about that, sugar." Then she flashed a grin, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

Kitty, who had been bouncing around like a ball of excited energy, finally stopped long enough to look at Harry with wide eyes. "Oh my gosh, you're from England, right?" she squealed. "That's so cool! What's it like there? I've always wanted to go!"

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at her enthusiasm. "Well, it's mostly rain. And more rain. Oh, and there's this thing called the weather—it's confusing and cold."

Kitty's eyes got even bigger, and she looked like she might combust from excitement. "Rain, you say? How thrilling!" she said in an overly dramatic voice, before bouncing on her toes again. "Seriously though, England sounds like a dream."

Then, just when Harry was starting to wonder if everyone at this school was this over-the-top, Kurt stepped forward. The blue-skinned kid had a tail and looked like a crossover between a demon and a circus performer. He gave Harry a warm, if somewhat nervous, smile. "Welcome, Harry," Kurt said in his thick German accent. "It is... good, yes? To be among others like you. To share this adventure. It will be... interesting."

Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry at how much Kurt looked like he was auditioning for a role in a bizarre fantasy movie, but the guy's sincerity hit him. "Thanks, Kurt," Harry said. "It's been... quite a ride already."

And then, of course, there was Scott. The guy had been glaring at the floor for the last ten minutes, looking like he was trying to avoid any possible eye contact with anyone. His arms were crossed, and he was giving off major "I'd rather be anywhere but here" vibes.

"Yeah, whatever," Scott muttered, rubbing his temples. "Can we move along already? We've got, like, stuff to do. Training and... other important things. Important things."

Jean didn't miss a beat. Her eyes shot daggers at him, which was impressive considering she was only about a foot shorter than Scott. "Scott, don't be rude. Harry's our guest," she said, her voice calm but firm. "He deserves some respect."

Scott didn't look impressed. In fact, he barely glanced at Jean. "Yeah, yeah. Respect. Whatever." He sounded like he was talking about something as thrilling as brushing his teeth.

Harry was about to say something when Kitty, who was practically vibrating with energy, interrupted with an idea that made his stomach do flips. "Hey, Harry, how about you show us some magic?" she said, bouncing on her toes like she was about to start a conga line. "I've always wanted to see real magic up close!"

Everyone was staring at him now, and Harry realized they were all waiting. He'd always felt a little weird about showing off his magic, but these kids seemed so... excited. Besides, it wasn't like he could not do something cool. So, with a resigned sigh, he pulled out his wand, wondering if this was a good idea. Atleast he was thankful Dumbledore used his connections within the ICW to get him an exemption to cast magic.

He flicked it casually, and a bouquet of flowers bloomed in front of him, floating in the air like they were part of some whimsical, magical display. The flowers sparkled, sending a soft glow across the hallway. Kitty's mouth dropped open in awe. "That's... amazing!" she gasped, clapping her hands together. "You're like a real-life wizard superhero! No way!"

Scott, however, did not seem as thrilled. "Great. Magic. Just what we needed," he muttered, his arms still crossed.

Jean, however, shot him a look that was practically lethal. "Scott, stop being so negative. That was incredible, Harry." She turned to him with a soft smile, and Harry's heart did a weird, unexpected flip. "You're going to fit in just fine here," she added, her voice almost too warm.

Harry felt his cheeks burn, but he tried to hide it behind a casual shrug. "Thanks," he muttered, suddenly aware of how close Jean was standing. She didn't seem to mind though, and Harry didn't know whether that made him feel better or worse.

As they continued down the hall, Harry couldn't help but feel like he was on the cusp of something huge. Something that felt a lot like a new beginning. And as he glanced at Jean, feeling the strange, comforting pull of her presence, he had a feeling that this adventure? It was just getting started.

---

As the group led Harry to his room, he couldn't help but feel like he'd stumbled into some sort of weird, mutant version of the Hogwarts Express. The mansion was massive, full of twists and turns, and it was buzzing with energy. Not like a haunted house or anything, but more like a giant, mutant-filled game of tag where everyone had special powers and nobody was afraid of getting caught. The kind of place where being different wasn't just accepted—it was practically expected.

He still couldn't wrap his head around it. Here he was, the "new kid," standing in the middle of a mansion full of mutants who could do things Harry had only seen in movies—or, okay, maybe in a few odd dreams where Voldemort didn't exist and he could actually relax. The fact that none of these new friends of his seemed like they were going to try and kill him for the last cookie was a plus. Sure, Scott was still acting like he was being dragged through a whole week's worth of detention, but Jean? Jean was different. She had this vibe, like she was already five steps ahead, and honestly, Harry was kind of hoping he could catch up.

The gang had left him with promises of meeting in the entertainment room later. Not that Harry was sure what that even meant, but hey, a room with entertainment in it couldn't be all bad, right?

He watched them disappear down the hall and shut the door behind him. The silence that followed was odd. It was a peaceful kind of quiet, like the aftermath of an unexpected snowstorm—everything was calm, but there was this hum in the air, like the whole house was just waiting for something. Maybe it was the mansion itself. Maybe it was just him. Either way, it felt like he was on the brink of something huge, and it wasn't just about the magic he could do or the mutants who'd just welcomed him into their fold.

Harry threw himself onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, looking up at the ceiling. His life had just gone from being "The Boy Who Lived" to "The Boy Who Now Lives In A Mansion Full Of Mutants" in record time. If that wasn't an upgrade, he didn't know what was.

He took a deep breath, trying to get himself grounded. Okay, so the Dursleys had sucked, his whole life had been a bit of a rollercoaster, and the whole "chosen one" bit had kind of gotten old by the time he was 13. But here? This was different. The mutants—his new friends—didn't seem to care who he was or what kind of fame followed him. They had their own powers to worry about. And maybe, just maybe, that was what Harry needed. To be somewhere where he could just be himself without the weight of the world bearing down on him.

He reached for his trunk and opened it. Books. Clothes. A few random magical artifacts, because of course there had to be a few things he'd smuggled with him—he wasn't exactly a "leave your wand behind" kind of guy. He carefully unpacked the items, setting them down one by one. His books went on the shelf, his clothes went into the drawers (thankfully wrinkle-free, a new personal victory), and his wand? Well, that went within arm's reach, because if he was going to be rooming with mutants, he wasn't about to be caught off guard if someone started glowing or turning into a puddle of goo.

"Alright," Harry muttered to himself, finally sitting down on the edge of the bed. He glanced around the room. It wasn't much, but it was home now. He could make it work. "Now, where's that entertainment room?"

As he was about to head out, he stopped, a sudden thought striking him. What if they don't actually have any good movies in this place? That was a deal-breaker. He couldn't survive without at least a solid action movie lineup. And if Jean—who seemed to know exactly what she was doing—was running the show, then it'd probably be something like a documentary about mutant history. Yawn.

But still, Harry had to admit, as much as the mutant world was crazy and new, it felt like it was the kind of chaos he could handle. And the weird thing? He wasn't scared. He was excited. He didn't know if it was because he was finally in control of his own destiny or because he was just in a mansion full of people who could shoot lasers out of their eyes (and who had no problem talking about it like it was just a Tuesday), but whatever it was, Harry was ready for whatever came next.

He walked down the hall, checking out the new surroundings, but his mind kept drifting to Jean. There was something about her—something bright and unshakable. She had this thing that made the whole mansion feel warmer. Or maybe it was just her smile that could literally light up the hallway. Either way, he wasn't going to overthink it.

Right?

Of course, as Harry turned the corner, the unmistakable sound of someone laughing echoed from the direction of the entertainment room. He grinned. This is going to be fun.

—

Harry couldn't help but feel like a kid in a candy store—if that candy store was actually a mutant mansion and all the candy was a bunch of people who could probably kill him in ways he hadn't even thought of yet. But it was still candy. And he was definitely going to enjoy it.

He walked into the entertainment room, trying to act casual but failing miserably, which is something that Harry did really well. The first thing that hit him wasn't the fact that there was a giant plasma screen in the corner of the room or that Logan was brooding on the couch with a cigar in his mouth (seriously, the guy seemed to think his lungs were invincible). It was Jean.

Jean Grey (who was totally rocking that whole "I'm calm but secretly dangerous" vibe) looked up from a stack of comics and shot Harry a smile that could probably melt ice. He felt this weird, flip-floppy feeling in his chest, like his heart was trying to decide whether it wanted to salsa or waltz. It was like being caught in a really awkward scene in one of those teen romance movies—except with more laser eyes and less angst.

"Hey, Harry!" Jean's voice was bright and welcoming, like she'd just invited him into her circle of coolness, and honestly, Harry wasn't going to say no to that. It was like someone had turned the sun up a few notches just by her saying his name.

Before Harry could respond, Scott Summers—aka the guy who made brooding look like a full-time job—made his entrance. He was the embodiment of "I don't know how to deal with my feelings, so I'll just overcompensate by being intense."

"I was thinking we could train tomorrow," Scott said, giving Jean an overly serious look, as if he was proposing the most important tactical mission of the decade. "Just you and me. Get some extra practice in."

Harry tried not to snicker. Scott looked about as casual as a general running an army in a warzone. He was definitely the type to treat a casual stroll as a mission.

Jean blinked, confused by Scott's obvious Scott-ness. "Uh, sure, Scott. But, maybe we could all train together? You know, teamwork and all that?" She shot Harry a glance as she said it, like it was some sort of silent invitation. Harry, suddenly aware that he might be getting pulled into something deeper than a basic training session, tried to act cool about it.

"I'm in," he said with a grin, which felt a little like he'd just signed himself up for a marathon when he hadn't exactly been hitting the gym.

Rogue, who'd been leaning against the doorframe with a mischievous glint in her eye, chuckled and crossed her arms. "So, Harry, how ya likin' our little slice of paradise? I bet it's a bit different from your fancy wizard school, huh, sugar?" Her Southern drawl was practically dripping with sass, and Harry had to admit, it was kind of endearing.

He raised an eyebrow. "You could say that. It's nice not having to worry about giant spiders trying to make me their afternoon snack. Or dark wizards showing up at breakfast with an agenda."

Rogue threw her head back and laughed, the sound rich and carefree. "Well, we got our fair share of mayhem here too, hon. Just... a different flavor. Ain't that right, Logan?" She shot a glance at Logan, who was sprawled on the couch, looking like he was contemplating whether to punch something or nap.

Logan, as usual, didn't give much of a response other than a grunt. He took another puff of his cheap cigar and waved it around like he was the king of casual. "Yeah, bub. We've got plenty of mayhem here. But it's mostly just me fighting the urge to snap someone's neck and figuring out how to keep my cigars lit without burning the whole mansion down. Keep your wand handy, kid. You'll need it."

Kitty, who was busy typing away on her laptop like she had a deadline to meet, finally looked up at Harry, her face lit with a mischievous grin. "Hey, Harry, you know there's a whole forum dedicated to guessing what your superpower would be if you were a mutant? Some of them think you'd have the power of invisibility because you're sneaky and resourceful."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Really? Invisibility? That's kind of... anticlimactic. I was hoping for something a bit more flashy, like shooting fireballs or summoning thunder or something. You know, standard superhero stuff."

Kitty shrugged, her grin never faltering. "Hey, the internet's got its own ideas. Anyway, if you ever want to binge-watch some classic sci-fi or need someone to hack into something... I'm your girl."

"Thanks," Harry said, grateful for the offer. "I'm kind of a newbie when it comes to computers. Maybe you can teach me a thing or two?"

"Deal," Kitty said, her eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. "We can start with the basics. And hey, maybe even get you into Dungeons & Dragons sometime. It's like magic, but with more dragons and less dark wizards."

Kurt, who'd been lurking in the corner with a grin that seemed a bit too... impish for his own good, suddenly piped up. His heavy German accent made everything sound ten times more dramatic than it probably was. "Ja, and don't forget the schnitzel. We must never underestimate the power of schnitzel!"

"Right..." Harry said, glancing at Kurt. "Schnitzel. Got it. I'll add that to my list of things to look forward to."

As the evening rolled on, Harry could feel himself relaxing. There was something about this group, this strange but totally awesome mix of mutants, that made him feel like he actually belonged. No titles. No expectations. Just Harry. And maybe, just maybe, this was the place where he could finally stop being "The Boy Who Lived" and start being Harry, the guy who could finally breathe without feeling like the weight of the world was sitting on his shoulders.

He didn't know where the future was taking him, but for once, it felt like it was going to be one heck of a ride.

—

As Harry made his way back to the room that had been assigned to him—a cozy, somewhat minimalist space with just enough personal touches to feel like home—his mind was still buzzing with the events of the evening. He could barely remember the last time he'd had so much fun, let alone without dodging any life-threatening hexes or weird magical creatures trying to eat him.

He plopped down on the bed with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. His mind wandered back to Jean, her smile, her laugh, the way her eyes sparkled when she looked at him—wait. Why was he thinking about this so much? He wasn't even 13 yet! Sure, he'd been around some pretty interesting people back at Hogwarts, but this felt different. With Jean, it was like there was this... this magnetic pull. But that was crazy, right? She was just a friend.

Just a friend.

But even as the words ran through his head, Harry couldn't shake the fluttery feeling in his stomach, like a bunch of pixies had decided to throw a rave in there. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he was just... getting caught up in all of it. After all, he was living in a mansion full of mutants—people with superpowers who could read minds and break the sound barrier and teleport to different dimensions in the blink of an eye. Maybe his brain was just having a little moment with the whole "being normal" thing.

He grinned to himself as he lay back, hands behind his head. "Yeah, that's totally it," he muttered. "Nothing weird going on here."

His thoughts shifted to the rest of the team—Rogue's sassy smile, Logan's gruff attitude (that, despite himself, Harry found kind of comforting), Kitty's enthusiasm, and Kurt's... whatever that was. The whole place was full of energy, and it was nice to feel like he was part of something for the first time in a long while.

But, of course, Jean kept slipping back into his thoughts. Her smile was like sunshine in the middle of a storm, like a spell he didn't even know he needed. Harry hadn't been aware of the idea of crushes or anything at his age, but there was something about her—how she looked at him, like maybe she saw something in him that no one else did. Was that weird? Probably. But it was also kind of nice.

"Well," Harry muttered to himself, turning over on the bed, pulling the blankets up around his shoulders. "Not like I can do anything about it anyway. I'm barely old enough to be responsible for my own socks." He chuckled softly, trying to keep the whole thing light. It wasn't like there was any pressure to figure this out.

But he couldn't help the tiny voice in the back of his head that wondered if maybe—just maybe—this feeling was something more.

"Tomorrow's another day," he said, letting out a deep breath, staring at the darkened window. He wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or to Jean, but either way, it didn't really matter. The adventure was just getting started, and Harry had a feeling that whatever came next, it was going to be more than he could ever have imagined.

And maybe, just maybe, that included figuring out what the heck this thing with Jean was.

—

Jean sat cross-legged on her bed, the soft hum of the mansion filling the background like an ambient soundtrack to her latest mental spiral. Kitty was huddled in her corner, fingers flying over her laptop like some kind of digital ninja, probably hacking into the Pentagon or whatever it was she did with her free time. Meanwhile, Rogue was sprawled out in the middle of the room, somehow managing to look like she was both inventing a new yoga pose and getting ready to nap at the same time. The girl was a mystery, and Jean kind of respected it.

But none of that mattered right now. All Jean could think about was him. Harry. The guy who had barely even been here a full day and had already managed to throw her brain into a tizzy. Her fingers drummed on her pillow absentmindedly as she tried to sort out why she couldn't stop thinking about him. It wasn't a crush—because who would even have a crush on someone after knowing them for less than 24 hours, right? But every time he smiled, she felt something weird stir inside her, like she was being seen for the first time. Not just the telepathic her—the real her, the one hidden beneath all the walls she built around herself.

And that laugh—man, that laugh. It was like the world got a little lighter every time Harry cracked a joke, especially when Kitty said something so absurd about the internet that Jean thought it might spontaneously explode. The way his eyes twinkled, like he wasn't just laughing at the joke but at life itself, like he was in on some secret no one else knew about. It made Jean's heart do this strange little flip—like the kind you feel when you're riding a roller coaster, and you realize you're probably too high up.

Stop it, Jean. He's just a guy. You barely even know him.

Right. It was probably nothing. Totally nothing. Jean had a good grip on her feelings—mostly. But... something about Harry felt important, and that was the part she didn't know how to ignore. It felt like she was trying to solve a Rubik's Cube without actually knowing how to solve one, and every turn just seemed to make things more complicated.

"Jean?"

Jean blinked, realizing she had been staring at the far wall for... well, probably longer than she should have. She turned her head, expecting to see Rogue giving her that sarcastic, raised-eyebrow look. Sure enough, Rogue was leaning against her bedpost, arms crossed, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips. "You doin' that thing where you look at stuff and pretend it's gonna give you all the answers to life, or what?" Rogue's voice had that deep Southern drawl that made everything sound like it could either be a compliment or a snarky jab, depending on how you took it.

Jean almost choked on her own breath. "What? No, I'm not—I mean, I wasn't—" She stopped herself, realizing that Rogue was probably way better at reading people than Jean had given her credit for. "I was just thinking."

Rogue arched an eyebrow. "Well, honey, ya think a lot. What's goin' on in that head of yours?"

Jean's face flushed. "I'm fine. Really. Just... tired."

Rogue didn't buy it. "Uh-huh. Sure. You look like you've been through a day at the spa, 'cept for that whole 'thinking' thing you've been doing. If ya want to spill the beans, I'm all ears."

Jean just shook her head, trying to play it cool. "Nothing serious. Really."

Rogue stared at her for a long moment, then nodded. "Fine. But just remember—if ya ever need to talk, I'm here. You ain't gotta keep all that junk bottled up."

Before Jean could say anything, that familiar feeling hit her again. A rush, warm and heavy, flooding her chest with a strange, pulsing energy. It wasn't like her telepathy—it was something else. Something deeper. Like she'd just touched something ancient, something alive. She froze for a moment, eyes wide.

It was like... like she was connected to something she couldn't quite explain. And, for the briefest of seconds, she swore she felt something—someone—reaching for her. She blinked rapidly and shook her head, trying to push it away, like she could just make it disappear by willing it out of existence. But it lingered in the corners of her mind, like the faint whisper of a voice too distant to understand.

Rogue tilted her head. "Jean?" Her voice was softer now, her usual sass dialed back just a touch. "Ya okay?"

Jean quickly recovered, forcing a smile. "Yeah, fine. Just... tired. Long day." She was still trying to steady her breathing, as if the sensation had somehow thrown her off balance. What the heck was that?

Rogue gave her a knowing look, the kind that said, I'm watching you, sugar. "Alright, sugar. You say so."

Jean leaned back against her pillow, trying to push all the chaotic thoughts from her head. But no matter how much she tried, her mind kept drifting back to Harry. To the way his eyes had sparkled when he spoke to her, to the way his laughter had felt like the world had somehow gotten a little brighter. And every time she thought about him, that strange energy surged again, making her heart race, making her feel like something was shifting inside her, but she had no idea what it was.

Just as her eyes began to flutter closed, she heard that whisper again. It wasn't loud or clear, but it was there—calling to her, like it was in her bones, in the very marrow of her being. The Phoenix Force, stirring within her, seemed to react to the connection she'd formed with Harry, even if she hadn't realized it yet. She didn't know what it meant, but she felt it—something had changed.

And the Phoenix, deep inside her, was beginning to awaken.

Tomorrow, Jean thought, pulling the covers up around her shoulders and trying to ignore the chaos of her thoughts. Tomorrow, maybe she'd understand it all. Maybe. Or maybe she'd keep spiraling and pretending everything was fine. Either way, the feeling was there—something powerful, something old. And it was definitely tied to Harry.

---

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