The tension in Xavier's office could have been cut with one of Logan's claws. Harry leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed and his emerald-green gaze fixed on Logan, who was already eyeing him like a puzzle he couldn't quite put together. Across the room, Jean lay unconscious on the couch, her face serene but pale, while the rest of the X-Men formed a loose semicircle around her. They were exhausted, confused, and more than a little irritated. And Harry? Harry was bracing for impact.
Logan broke the silence first, his gruff voice laced with suspicion. "Alright, kid. Enough dancin' around it. Let's talk about the claws."
Harry groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. "Logan, we've got bigger problems right now. You know, like the cosmic death bird currently nesting in Jean's brain?"
"Don't dodge the question," Logan shot back, stepping closer. He jabbed a finger toward Harry's hands. "Those claws ain't just for scratchin' furniture. You've got somethin' goin' on, and I'm not buyin' the coincidence."
"Ach, zis is getting good!" Kurt chimed in from the corner, his German accent thick and playful. "Are you saying he's, how do you Americans put it, your illegitimate son, Herr Logan?"
Kitty clapped her hands together, practically bouncing on her toes. "Oh my gosh, is this, like, one of those soap opera things? Are we gonna find out Harry's secretly Logan's long-lost kid? Because, like, that would be so wild!"
Harry raised a hand, palm outward, his voice exasperated. "Okay, let's shut that train of thought down right now. Logan, I'm not your kid. I don't even have claws like yours. Mine are Vibranium, not Adamantium."
Logan's eyes narrowed, but his tone remained smug. "Vibranium, huh? Real convenient. Still doesn't explain how you got 'em, bub. Or why you smell like me."
Scott, who had been stewing quietly near the back, finally snapped. "Wait, wait, wait. Can we just rewind a second? What the hell is going on here? Harry, are you saying you've got claws, Logan's DNA, and you're not some random mutant? What are you even?!"
"Geez, Summers," Rogue drawled, her Southern accent dripping with sass. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed and a smirk tugging at her lips. "Give the guy a chance to explain 'fore ya blow a gasket. Ain't his fault you can't keep up."
Scott shot her a glare but stayed quiet, his jaw tight. Harry sighed, pushing off the desk. "Alright, you want the full story? Fine. Buckle up, because it's a doozy."
The team collectively leaned in, their curiosity outweighing their fatigue. Even Xavier looked intrigued, his fingers steepled as he watched Harry intently.
"When I was five years old, Hydra kidnapped me," Harry began, his tone measured but heavy.
The room went deadly quiet. Kitty gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "Wait, like... Hydra-Hydra? Evil-Nazi-science Hydra? Are you serious right now?"
"Dead serious," Harry confirmed. "They found out I was a wizard—"
"Ach, zis just keeps getting better!" Kurt exclaimed, his tail flicking with excitement.
"—and decided they wanted to make a magical Super Soldier. So they experimented on me. Injected me with their version of the Super Soldier Serum."
Rogue whistled low, shaking her head. "Damn, sugar. Hydra just doesn't know when to quit, do they?"
Scott frowned, still trying to process. "Wait, the serum didn't kill you? That stuff's unstable. How are you even standing here?"
"It didn't kill me," Harry said grimly, "but it did change me. This whole 'tall, muscular, ridiculously strong' thing? That's the serum. It also aged me up. Technically, I'm almost seven years old."
Kitty's eyes went wide. "Shut up! You're, like, a giant seven-year-old? That's insane. Also, kinda cool."
Harry smirked but continued. "And just when you thought Hydra couldn't get any more twisted, they decided to splice my DNA with Logan's. They wanted his healing factor, his enhanced senses, his... well, let's just say they wanted a lot."
Logan growled low in his throat, his fists clenching. "Those bastards... What else did they do to you?"
Harry's expression hardened. "They coated my skeleton in Vibranium. Just because they could."
Rogue let out a low whistle. "Well, ain't that somethin'? So you're basically a walking, talkin' indestructible tank?"
"Something like that," Harry admitted. He turned to Logan, his gaze firm. "But let me make this crystal clear: I'm not your son, Logan. Hydra used your DNA, but that's it. We're not family."
Logan stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded slowly, though the tension in his shoulders didn't ease. "Alright, kid. I'll take your word for it. But if I ever find out those Hydra bastards are still breathin'..."
"They won't be," Harry said firmly. "Trust me."
Scott, still visibly irritated, crossed his arms. "So let me get this straight. You're a wizard, a Super Soldier, and part Wolverine? And we're just supposed to accept that like it's normal?"
Kitty beamed. "Honestly, I think it's awesome. Like, can you do magic tricks? Or, like, make stuff float? Because that would be so cool!"
Harry chuckled despite himself. "One crisis at a time, Kitty."
Xavier, who had remained quiet throughout the explanation, finally spoke, his voice calm but thoughtful. "Harry, your story is extraordinary, to say the least. But I have to ask—why reveal all this now? What's your stake in this fight?"
Harry's expression turned serious. "Because I know what it's like to have power you didn't ask for. To have people try to control you, manipulate you, because they think they know what's best. Jean deserves the truth. And she deserves to make her own choices."
Logan nodded approvingly, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're alright, kid. Bit of a pain, but alright."
"Thanks, Logan," Harry said dryly. "Now, can we please focus on saving Jean before the Phoenix decides to roast us all?"
The room fell into an uneasy silence as the weight of their mission settled back over them. Whatever else they might think of Harry, one thing was clear: they were all in this together.
—
Mystique, still in the guise of the ever-calm Principal Darkhölme, surveyed the wreckage of the football field with cold, calculating eyes. Her mind was racing, already piecing together the scattered bits of information. The strange, shimmering energy in the air, the charred sky above—the signs were unmistakable. This wasn't just another random mutant skirmish. Something bigger, something more dangerous was at play, and she had a sinking feeling it was connected to one of Xavier's children.
She turned to face the Brotherhood members who had gathered in the debris-strewn field. Her eyes immediately locked onto Pietro, who was bouncing on the balls of his feet, practically vibrating with impatience. Behind him, Blob grumbled under his breath, still scanning the scene, while Lance crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, looking more annoyed than anything. Toad was crouched low, his tongue flicking out to lick at the ground with a sense of restless curiosity.
"Alright, listen up," Mystique began, her tone smooth but laced with an unmistakable authority. "Pietro, Lance, Blob, Toad—I want you all to head back to the Brotherhood's safehouse. Don't make a scene, and don't do anything reckless."
Blob snorted, throwing his hands in the air. "What? So, we just sit around and wait like good little boys while the X-Men get to have all the fun?" His voice was a low growl, his heavy frame tensing with frustration.
Mystique's gaze sharpened, her lips curling into a thin, knowing smile. "That's exactly what I'm asking, Blob. Because, unlike you, I actually think before acting. This isn't some random fight. Whatever happened here—whoever caused this—it's connected to Xavier's little pets. The mutant children of this town."
Pietro shot her a glare, his silver eyes flashing with annoyance. "Oh, right. We're supposed to be the ones waiting around while you go play detective, huh?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm the fastest guy on the planet, and I'm stuck playing waiter? Sounds great."
Mystique's eyes glinted with cold amusement as she regarded him. "Trust me, Pietro. Your speed doesn't always make you effective. And I don't have the luxury of rushing in without a plan. The stakes are too high. Now, I'm going to infiltrate Xavier's Institute. Find out exactly what's going on, and more importantly, who's behind this mess." She paused, her eyes scanning the faces of the Brotherhood. "I don't need you causing a scene and blowing our cover. Understood?"
Pietro scowled, but there was a resigned edge to it now. "Yeah, fine. I get it. But if we miss out on the fun, it's on you."
"Blame me all you want, but just remember who's the brains in this operation," Mystique replied, her voice cool, though her lips curled into a sly smile. She wasn't bothered by Pietro's discontent—he was a useful tool, but not one she intended to let off his leash just yet.
Lance, always the more pragmatic of the group, shifted his stance and frowned at the scene. "So what exactly are we supposed to do, Mystique? Wait around while you do all the legwork?"
Mystique locked eyes with him, her gaze unwavering. "Yes, Lance. You're going to wait. And you're going to keep an eye on Pietro. Make sure he doesn't get too bored." She turned to Blob. "Blob, stay back at the safehouse. I don't need you starting a fight with the wrong people. And Toad—"
Toad let out a groan, flipping his tongue out in irritation. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. 'Stay put,' 'don't make a mess.' Y'know, it'd be nice if someone let me have some fun around here." He stood up, his knees creaking as he stretched. "But whatever. Not like anything interesting's happening here anyway."
Mystique's eyes flicked toward him, a glint of something dangerously amused behind her calm demeanor. "You get your kicks however you want, Toad. Just don't make me regret this decision."
With a flick of her wrist, Mystique dismissed the group. "Get moving. Don't do anything stupid. I'm going to Xavier's Institute to find out what's really going on here."
"Yeah, yeah, we'll just sit here and twiddle our thumbs," Blob muttered, his massive shoulders slumping as he turned to leave.
"Just remember, Mystique," Pietro called out, his voice still dripping with frustration. "If this all blows up in our faces, I'll make sure to tell you 'I told you so.'"
Mystique didn't respond, already shifting her appearance as she faded into the shadows. She had no time for their whining. The Brotherhood, for all their power and abilities, were still amateurs when it came to subtlety and finesse. That was why she had always been the leader. And this mission, whatever it was, would be a delicate one—one that required precision.
Once out of view, Mystique shifted again, her form rippling as she assumed a new identity. She'd need to be someone trusted at Xavier's Institute—someone who could walk in without arousing suspicion. Her mind immediately settled on the perfect choice: a local school counselor, a woman who was often seen but never truly noticed. Perfect for blending in.
As she made her way toward the Institute, Mystique's thoughts churned. This whole incident—it wasn't just a random fight between mutants. Something had triggered this destruction, something outside of their usual schemes. Whoever had caused this damage was working with forces far greater than anything the Brotherhood could handle on their own.
Xavier's children… they were the key. But which one of them had gotten involved in this mess?
By the time Mystique reached the Institute, her mind was already calculating her next steps. She couldn't afford to make a mistake—not this time. The game was bigger now, and it wasn't just about the Brotherhood's petty rivalries with the X-Men anymore. It was something far more dangerous—and far more personal.
Her pace quickened as she approached the front gates of the Institute, slipping easily into her new disguise. There was no time to waste. The truth was waiting for her—and she always made sure to be the one who found it first.
—
The room was thick with tension. Everyone sat in various states of disbelief, trying to process the flurry of revelations Harry had just unleashed. This wasn't just a mutant problem. No, it was something far bigger, cosmic, and far harder to control. Jean's condition, the Phoenix Force, and now Harry was asking them to trust in a series of unlikely allies.
"Professor," Harry began, breaking the silence, his tone measured but urgent, "Jean's condition is much worse than you realize. The Phoenix is an uncontrollable force—dangerous and unpredictable. You're dealing with more than just a mutant power here. We need more than just medical expertise to handle this."
Xavier, usually the calm center in any storm, sat up straighter in his chair, his brow furrowing slightly in thought. "We do have the resources here, Harry. Hank could run diagnostics—"
"No," Harry interrupted, shaking his head firmly. "I'm not saying Hank isn't brilliant, but this is beyond a scientific approach. The Phoenix isn't just a mutation, it's a cosmic, mystical force. You can't just run tests and hope to fix it. We need to call in the right kind of help."
Logan, who had been pacing by the door, narrowed his eyes. "Right, so you've got a plan then, kid? Spill it."
Harry turned to him, his tone still serious but a little impatient. "I'm not saying it's hopeless, Logan, but we need experts in mysticism, in magic, not just science. And I happen to know a few people who are equipped to deal with a force like the Phoenix."
Scott leaned forward, brow furrowed in skepticism. "What, you mean like wizards? Are we calling in some guy with a pointy hat and a magic wand?"
Harry met Scott's stare, a little amused by his skepticism. "You're not wrong to be skeptical, Scott. I get it. But this isn't some fairy tale magic. The Ancient One is one of the most powerful sorcerers alive. She's the Sorcerer Supreme of Earth. And trust me, if anyone can understand the Phoenix, it's her."
Logan snorted. "Sorcerer Supreme, huh? Sounds like a fancy title. And a little out of our league, don't you think?"
"Logan, this is exactly the kind of thing we need," Harry said, his voice steady despite Logan's dismissive tone. "The Phoenix doesn't play by normal rules, and it's certainly not something you can just punch into submission. We need someone who can deal with cosmic forces."
Rogue, who had been unusually quiet, crossed her arms, her voice dripping with suspicion. "Hold up. You're seriously tellin' me we need to call in some wizard to save Jean? I've been down this road before with all this hocus-pocus nonsense. Ain't nobody got time for that."
Harry's expression softened, but his words were firm. "I get it, Rogue. Believe me, I do. But this is Jean's life we're talking about, and you've seen what the Phoenix can do. We need every tool at our disposal, no matter how... unconventional."
Xavier, who had been quietly absorbing the conversation, nodded thoughtfully. "I can't say I fully understand, but if what Harry is saying is true, perhaps it's time to consider options outside our usual methods."
Harry's eyes flicked to Jean, her breathing shallow on the couch, her face pale. The room was heavy with the unspoken weight of the situation. "Exactly. But that's not all. I've got another ally in mind—Andromeda Tonks. She's one of the best healers I know. Specializes in restoring people who've been damaged by forces beyond normal comprehension. If anyone can stabilize Jean while we figure out the Phoenix, it's her."
Kitty's eyes lit up at the mention of Andromeda's name. "Ooh, a healer? That's so cool! I love meeting new people, especially when they're like, really good at what they do."
Harry gave her a small grin. "You'll like her. She can handle both magic and mutant powers, which is exactly what we need."
Xavier leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. "I've heard of Andromeda Tonks. She's a skilled healer. But do you truly believe she'll be able to help Jean? I'm still not entirely clear on how all of this ties together."
Harry nodded, his face grim. "Jean's condition is volatile, and the Phoenix is awakening inside her. We need someone who understands both the magical and the mutant side of things. Andromeda's one of the few who can pull that off."
Scott, always the voice of reason, spoke up again. "Okay, I'm willing to hear it, but how exactly do we handle the Phoenix? What if it decides to... take over Jean completely?"
Harry's eyes were intense. "That's why we need the best of the best. The Ancient One and Andromeda Tonks. But there's one more person I want to call in."
Everyone turned to Harry, waiting for the next revelation.
"My mother," Harry said, his voice steady, though there was a trace of warmth when he spoke her name. "Lily Potter. She's an expert in merging magic and technology. If anyone can help us understand how to neutralize the Phoenix's influence without killing Jean in the process, it's her. She's got the mind and the experience for this kind of work."
There was a long pause. Then, Logan let out a low whistle. "Your mom's like that powerful?"
Harry's lips quirked into a small smile. "If you think I've got a good head on my shoulders, you should meet her. She's the kind of person who gets things done, and she won't waste any time with fancy speeches. She'll do what needs to be done."
Rogue raised an eyebrow, impressed despite herself. "Well, shoot. If she's that good, I'm all for it."
Logan folded his arms across his chest, eyeing Harry with a newfound respect. "Alright, kid. So we're bringing in a wizard, a healer, and your mom. You sure this'll work?"
Harry nodded, his face set with determination. "We don't have time to waste. The Phoenix is already stirring inside Jean, and if we don't act soon, we might not be able to stop it."
Xavier nodded, a gravity to his words. "Then we'll reach out to them. And we'll be ready for whatever comes next."
Kitty bounced in her seat, her excitement palpable. "Oh my gosh, magic, technology, mutant powers... this is going to be so awesome!"
Harry shot her a brief grin, but his mind was elsewhere. His thoughts were on Jean, and how to save her before the Phoenix took everything from them.
"Let's just hope we're not too late," he muttered, the weight of the task ahead heavy on his shoulders.
As the room buzzed with quiet conversations and plans for the calls to be made, Harry felt a surge of determination. With the right team and the right plan, they had a chance—if only they could execute it before it was too late.
—
As Mystique approached the gates of Xavier's Institute, she straightened her posture, adjusting her glasses and smoothing the front of her modest blouse. Her new disguise was a simple one—plain brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, soft features framed by large, unremarkable glasses. She had crafted this persona carefully—a school counselor from Bayville High School, someone who was never noticed twice. She exuded an aura of normalcy, a stark contrast to her true nature. Her mission here was clear, and no matter what was waiting behind those gates, she was ready.
She reached the entrance and knocked sharply on the door, every movement calculated and confident.
Moments later, the door swung open, revealing a man of impressive size and striking blue fur—Hank McCoy, though he appeared far more human through the use of his holographic image inducer. Mystique's lips curled into a practiced, professional smile. She hadn't anticipated the surprise of seeing him—she was accustomed to Xavier's institution being managed by a team of mutants, but Hank McCoy, or Beast as he was more commonly known, was still an unexpected sight at the door.
"Good afternoon," Hank greeted smoothly, his voice deep and rumbling with an unmistakable curiosity. His sharp eyes took her in quickly, scanning her form for any signs of deception, though the calm tone he maintained suggested an underlying caution. "How may I help you?"
"Hello, Dr. McCoy," Mystique said smoothly, a slight but warm tilt to her voice as she adjusted her glasses in a perfectly natural gesture. "I'm Mrs. Lennox, the school counselor over at Bayville High. I hope I'm not interrupting anything important. I'm here on a small matter regarding some of your students."
Hank's blue eyes flickered momentarily, narrowing slightly. There was something about her that didn't quite fit. She didn't look out of place, but the situation was... strange. He was no fool; he knew something more was going on. "I see. And what exactly is this matter?"
"I've been informed that a few of your students—Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Kitty Pryde, Kurt Wagner, and Anna Marie, also known as Rogue—left school early today without attending their afternoon classes," Mystique said, her tone sweet and businesslike, her eyes never leaving his. "As part of my duties at the school, I'm just here to check in on them. It's unusual for them to miss class without any explanation, and I wanted to make sure everything was alright."
Hank's face remained neutral, though his mind was clearly racing. Jean Grey. Rogue. Kurt. Scott. Kitty. These were students he had deep concerns about, but Mystique—this so-called Mrs. Lennox—wasn't someone he recognized. He couldn't help but feel his instinct for danger prickle, a faint suspicion beginning to form. He'd need to tread carefully here.
"Ah. I see. I wasn't aware there was any issue," Hank said, his voice measured, though there was a subtle tension in his posture. He glanced over his shoulder briefly, then back to her. "We've been dealing with some personal matters recently. It's possible they simply needed some space. I assure you, Mrs. Lennox, everything is under control."
Mystique's smile never wavered, though the edge to her words hardened slightly. She wasn't buying it, not for a second. "I understand, Dr. McCoy, but as you know, my role is to ensure the well-being of all students. If they're dealing with something—anything troubling them—I'd like to address it sooner rather than later. We can't afford to ignore any signs of distress, especially not in these times."
Hank nodded, his lips pressed tightly together. He was still careful, not wanting to reveal too much. He had a suspicion as to what this was all about, but he needed to confirm it. "I assure you, there's no immediate concern. Jean and the others are... safe. They simply needed to be away from school for a while. If you'd like, I can take you to them. They've been... sequestered for their own privacy. We've been giving them some time to themselves, but you may speak with them briefly if you wish."
Mystique's mind was already racing as Hank spoke. She could sense something—an underlying energy that was subtly different, vibrating in the air around her, too faint to pinpoint but unmistakable all the same. She hadn't figured it out yet, but she could feel it: whatever was happening at the Institute was much bigger than it seemed. A few students skipping class didn't explain this sensation.
"I'd appreciate that very much," she said, her voice soft, polite. "I'm sure they'd prefer to talk directly, rather than through a third party."
Hank hesitated for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a slight nod, he stepped aside, allowing her to enter. "Very well, Mrs. Lennox. Follow me. I'll take you to their quarters. Just... be brief. They're not ready for a long visit."
Mystique stepped inside with smooth, measured movements, her gaze flicking around the foyer as she took in every detail. She was a predator, constantly analyzing the space around her, noting everything from the decorative pieces on the walls to the subtle shifts in the air. She could feel the remnants of something intense in the atmosphere, a tension she couldn't yet place.
"Thank you," she said, smiling sweetly as she followed Hank down the hall. As they walked, Mystique's mind sharpened, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. Jean, Scott, Kitty, Kurt, and Rogue—each of them had a unique power, each of them was a key piece in the grander design. But she needed more. She needed to know who had caused the chaos at the football field, and why.
They stopped outside a door, and Hank turned to face her, his posture now more guarded. "They're inside," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "Please, don't take too long."
Mystique's hand reached out for the door, her fingers lightly brushing the wood. She could feel the energy inside the room already, an electric charge that hummed in her veins. This was it. The moment she'd been waiting for. She knocked, a sharp, deliberate sound that echoed in the hall.
As she waited for the door to open, she allowed herself a moment to savor the thrill of the hunt. The answers she was seeking were behind that door, and she would have them—no matter what it took.
—
As Mystique's hand brushed against the door, she heard a faint but distinct click, and before she could react, a sudden crackling sound filled the air. A stun spell hit her squarely in the chest, and her eyes widened in a mix of shock and frustration as her body went rigid. She collapsed to the floor, unconscious before she even hit the ground. Her false persona—tightly controlled, cautious, and unremarkable—slipped away as she lay motionless on the floor. Her human form melted away like smoke in the wind, revealing the true shape of Mystique—her blue, scaly skin and sharp, piercing yellow eyes.
Harry stood across the room, his claws retracted and his expression calm, yet his eyes glinted with satisfaction. He'd dealt with far worse before, but there was something undeniably satisfying about handling Mystique with such ease. He had always been a step ahead of her, and tonight was no different.
As he approached her unconscious form, Harry's mind buzzed with the telepathic voice of Professor Xavier. "Well done, Harry. I had a feeling you would manage this without issue."
Harry's lips curled into a wry smile, his gaze flicking over to the fallen Mystique. "It wasn't exactly a challenge, Professor. But... I was ready for anything."
The Professor's voice softened slightly. "I suspected her the moment she entered the gates. She's too skilled at blending in. You were right to stay alert."
Harry crouched down beside Mystique's unconscious form, making sure the bindings were tight and secure. "I guess some people forget that I don't need to rely on my wand anymore." He flexed his claws absently, his gaze flicking over to the immobile woman. "Though this is getting a bit more complicated than a simple 'teacher visit.'"
Behind him, the sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention. He turned to find Logan, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"You really shocked her, kid," Logan remarked with a low chuckle, his gravelly voice thick with amusement. "Guess even the great Mystique wasn't expecting you to be packing that kind of punch."
Harry shot him a sardonic glance. "It wasn't much of a fight. She tried to walk in here like she belonged, but she's been too reckless lately. She got sloppy."
Logan raised an eyebrow and scratched the stubble on his chin. "Ain't that the truth. Don't know what she was thinking. She probably thought she could sneak right past you." He took a drag from the cigar hanging from his mouth, his face illuminated by the faint glow of the burning end. "Still, gotta give her credit. She's good at what she does."
Harry straightened, looking down at Mystique's still form, his eyes narrowed. "She's better than good. But she's not the one calling the shots here." He then flicked his gaze to Logan, a wry smile playing at his lips. "Besides, I don't need a wand to handle her. These claws do just fine."
Logan snorted, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Yeah, sure. But don't go trying to cast any spells with those things. Last thing we need is you turning into a magic show."
Harry couldn't suppress a chuckle. "My claws aren't for that kind of magic, Logan. They do the job just fine. Now, let's see what she was after."
At that moment, Mystique stirred, her eyes fluttering open, and she let out a low, guttural snarl. Her eyes locked onto Harry, her yellow irises full of venom as she bared her teeth, hissing through clenched fangs.
"You think you've won, boy?" she spat, her voice thick with disdain. "You have no idea what you're dealing with. This is just the beginning."
Harry crouched down beside her, his voice cool and collected. "Don't worry, Mystique. I know exactly who I'm dealing with. And when I'm done with you, you'll wish you never came here."
Her expression twisted in defiance. "You think you can stop the inevitable? You're just a pawn in a much bigger game."
Logan stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "Careful, kid. She's got a mouth on her. And we're about to find out if she's got any tricks left."
Harry turned to glance at Logan, giving a short nod. "I'm aware, but she won't be talking much longer."
His claws extended slightly as he stood, glancing back at Mystique one last time. She wasn't going anywhere—he made sure of that. "Professor," he mentally contacted Xavier, "I've got her. She's as chatty as ever, but I think she's hiding something. She's not just here to make trouble for the students. There's something else going on."
Xavier's voice filled his mind, calm yet insistent. "I had suspected as much. Keep her contained, Harry. She has a connection to something larger—something we don't fully understand yet. I trust you to get the information we need. And please, make sure to handle Jean and the others carefully. I'm certain there's more to this situation than meets the eye."
"Understood, Professor," Harry replied, his tone steady. "I'll call in my team to help with Jean and the others. We'll figure this out."
Logan raised his eyebrow, stepping closer to Mystique as he lit another cigar. "You sure you don't need any help with her, kid? I've got a few... tricks of my own to deal with people like her."
Harry glanced at Logan, his lips quirking into a grin. "I'm fine. You just keep her from doing anything stupid, alright?"
"Yeah, yeah, don't get cocky." Logan leaned back against the wall, puffing on his cigar, but there was no mistaking the protective edge in his voice.
Mystique continued to glare at them, her mind clearly plotting ways to escape. But as Harry stood up and made his way toward the door, his voice was steady and final. "I'll bring in the cavalry. Let's see what she's really after."
He left the room, his footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. He reached out to his team mentally, ready to pull them into the fray. Whatever was happening at Xavier's Institute, he knew this was just the beginning. Mystique was only one player in a much larger, more dangerous game.
As he walked down the hall, the tension in the air grew thicker. Whatever this was, it wouldn't end here. But Harry was ready for it. And with his claws—and his team—by his side, he would get to the truth, no matter the cost.
"Let's get to work," he muttered under his breath. The storm was coming, and Harry was going to be ready for it.
---
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