Magical Mutations (Ch. 6)

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

Magical Mutations 

Chapter 6

A few days later, everything was still pretty much the same. Harry was never suspected, and the legend of the Pissing Bandit continued to grow with each passing day. Duncan’s car still smelled faintly of piss, but the social hierarchy of Bayville High remained unchanged. Harry was starting to get into a good rhythm with everything, and Jean hadn’t so much as mentioned the incident. She greeted him every morning with the same sly grin and an extra-long hug, sometimes even going so far as to peck him on the cheek. It was unclear if this was to annoy Duncan or reward Harry for his efforts, but he wasn’t complaining.

Harry found himself in the sprawling mansion grounds, practicing with his powers. He raised his hand, palm out, and stared at the empty space above it. He focused hard, and at first, there was nothing. Then a sharp, stinging heat appeared in his palm. He closed his eyes and let the sensation spread. A spark popped in his palm. It was blue in the center and orange at the edges. It swelled, folded back on itself, and merged into a perfectly round sphere of fire, about the size of a golf ball. The heat licked at his skin, but didn’t burn.

Harry watched the fireball undulate. It reminded him of breathing, or perhaps a beating heart. He turned his hand over, and the fire rotated slowly in the gravity of his palm. He tilted his wrist, and the fireball slid off, floating for a half-second before dissolving into air.

He exhaled loudly. The next time, he tried with his hand at a forty-five-degree angle. He clenched his fist and forced the heat out, focusing on projection instead of containment. The spark flared again, but this time it formed a thin, flickering blade. The flame didn’t leave his hand at first. He shook his hand, and the blade sputtered. Harry then concentrated harder and pointed with all five fingers.

A gout of flame erupted and hissed white-hot, cutting a line through the clear blue sky. It burned twenty feet out before fading to nothing. Harry could feel the intense heat hanging in the air. He snorted in surprise and grinned at the scorched patch of grass. The precision was not perfect, but at least it was an improvement.

He shook out his hand and let the heat drain away. For a moment, his hand stung with pins and needles. Harry flexed his fingers and, this time, focused on cold rather than heat. A piercing cold pooled on his palm and then spiked down his wrist. His breath fogged the air as the temperature around his palm plummeted.

A plume of icy mist erupted from his fingers. At first, it was just a cloud, but then tiny flecks of snow began spinning in the vortex. The mist curled out and froze the grass at his feet. Harry grunted in satisfaction and pointed again, shaping the flow with a curved hand. This time, the ice blast was sharper and more focused. The frost bit a chunk out of a tree trunk ten yards away, and the bark split with an audible crack.

He wiped his hand on his shirt, and the cold faded, replaced by a mild ache that felt like bruising from the inside. He rotated his shoulder and felt the discomfort vanish.

Harry eyed the tree with the missing bark. He remembered something he had heard Storm talking about. She said something about “guiding growth.” She wanted to learn how to do it so she could use it on some of the small trees and bushes in her greenhouse. He closed his eyes and imagined the tree limbs not as fixed, but as something malleable. He reached out, not with his hand, but with his powers. At first, the only thing that happened was the leaves shaking a bit. Then a tingling sensation slid down his arm, and the branches of the tree began to twitch.

One at a time, the limbs moved. Harry concentrated, and the branches curled in on themselves, twisting and wrapping. After a minute, the tree’s upper limbs had tangled into a tight, basket-weave lattice. Pleased with his work, Harry snapped his fingers to make the branches lock in place. They did, though the tree shivered all the way down to its roots.

He stepped back and wiped the sweat off his brow. His forehead was damp. The trick, he realized, was not to force it. It was to direct the movement, as if he were moving his own arm or leg. The tree would follow, so long as he gave it a path.

Harry wondered what else he could do. He faced the open lawn, scanned for any witnesses, and then aimed both palms at the far fence. Harry focused only on the urge to push outward. He planted his feet, braced his core, and imagined shoving an invisible wall. He drew in breath, held it, then pushed hard with both hands.

A concussive force rippled out from his palms, distorting the air like a heat shimmer. The blast wave hit the fence and tore a hole straight through, twisting steel bars in every direction. The sound rattled the windows of the mansion, and the recoil sent Harry flying backwards. He landed flat on his ass, a good fifteen feet from where he started.

He groaned and rolled to his knees. His arms stung, and his shirt was shredded from the chest down. The force had ripped away both sleeves, leaving the lower half hanging in tatters. He shrugged out of the remains and dropped the scraps on the ground.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, dusting himself off. Harry concentrated, and the shredded shirt vanished, dissolved into a puff of black vapor. He looked at the damage and grimaced. He waved his hand over the divot in the grass, smoothing the impact. It wasn’t perfect, but it looked better than before. Harry held his hand out and put all his will into fixing the fence. Slowly, the steel bars screeched as they straightened and reattached. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair, then wiped the dirt off his shorts and started toward the lake.

There was a small, man-made beach at the water’s edge. It was a semicircle of sand no more than thirty feet wide. Harry stepped to the shore and peeled off his shoes. The lake was still, with only the smallest ripples from the wind. The air above the surface was warm, and the water was much colder. The sun was out and beating down on his bare shoulders. He stared out at the rippling water, debating whether to dive in or just sit in the sand and soak up some sun. He didn’t notice Jean until she cannonballed into the water with a whoop that echoed through the trees.

She surfaced, shook the hair from her face, and looked up at him. Her red hair was slicked back, and her skin gleamed in the sunlight. The green bikini she wore hugged every delicious curve. Harry tried not to stare, but he failed miserably.

“Hey, Harry!” she called, waving him in.

He walked to the end of the pier, stretched theatrically like he was a seasoned pro, and leapt into the water. The shock of cold hit him so hard that he came up gasping. “Bloody hell!” he spluttered.

Jean was already on him. She splashed him in the face, then retreated with a fast breaststroke. Harry followed, and soon they were racing across the surface, trading insults and flinging water at each other. The lake was just deep enough in the middle that Jean’s head poked out of the water when she stood. She suddenly tackled him, and they both went under.

They resurfaced, and Jean laughed so hard she choked on a mouthful of water. She clung to his neck, and he tried to dunk her, but she was stronger than she looked. The play fighting escalated, and Harry found himself pinned by Jean’s legs around his waist. She locked her ankles behind him, and her hands dug into his wet hair.

“Yield,” she commanded, grinning happily.

Harry considered his options. On one hand, her perky boobs were pressed to his chest, and her sexy thighs were squeezing his hips. On the other hand, she was smirking and daring him to fight back, and he couldn’t just let her win. He grabbed her by the waist, spun her in the water, and held her just above the surface. “Never,” he said, then dropped her in. She came up, sputtering and spitting water.

“You bastard!” she shrieked, splashing him again.

Harry tried to fend her off, but her hands found his sides, and she dug her fingers in. He yelped and twisted away, but she followed, laughing. “Oh, so you’re ticklish,” she said. “That’s good to know.”

He tried to swim away, but she latched on. Her arms were around his shoulders, and her legs were locked around his waist again. Jean’s bikini top barely contained her tits when she pulled herself up to straddle his back.

“Carry me to shore,” she ordered.

“Oh, so I’m your personal valet now?” Harry humorously asked. 

Jean gently bit down on his broad shoulder. “I’d consider you more of a personal cabana boy.”

Harry sighed, hooked his arms under her knees, and trudged through the shallows. Jean wasn’t very heavy, but carrying her through the waist-deep water was a bit of a struggle. He felt every jiggle and bounce of her gorgeous body as he walked. At the water’s edge, he started to lower her onto her feet, but she held on tight, squeezing him with her thighs.

He looked over his shoulder, meaning to say something, but Jean was looking down at him, her face inches from his. Her beauty caused him to freeze for a second. She smiled sexily, slid off his back, and landed behind him. She made sure to smack his bottom as she did. “Nice ass, Potter,” she said.

He felt his cheeks heat up. “You’re incorrigible. You know that?”

“I am not,” she said, stepping around him to face the water. “I just feel free. I’ve never felt like this before … it’s jarring but also exciting.” Jean stretched, which did wonderful things to her bikini-clad breasts. 

Harry looked her over. Jean was dripping wet, and little rivulets of water ran over her body. Her bikini bottoms were wedged tightly between her pillowy cheeks, showing off every inch of her hips and ass. He tried to avert his eyes, but Jean caught him in the act.

She smiled cutely, and her eyes shone with mischief. “You can look, you know. I don’t mind. I wouldn’t have worn this if I didn’t want you to see me.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but she bent over to pick up her towel, and her bikini bottom all but vanished into the deep crease of her ass. Harry’s brain short-circuited. He stood silently as Jean casually pulled the fabric free and adjusted it. The maneuver was so blatant that it had to be intentional. Jean stood up straight and turned to face him, her lips twitching. “What?” she asked, feigning innocence.

He gave her an amused and exasperated look. “You’re doing that on purpose,” he accused her. 

She smirked and flicked water at him. “Maybe. Maybe not,” she coyly stated. Jean wrapped the towel around her waist and started for the path up to the mansion. Harry grabbed his shoes and followed, his eyes glued to her hips as they moved. She exaggerated the sway, making sure he noticed.

Jean reached the steps, and she started going up before pausing and looking over her shoulder. “Are you coming, or what?” Her green eyes sparkled. She didn’t wait for an answer. She began climbing the steps again as the towel rode low on her hips.

Harry jogged to catch up. When he reached her, Jean looped her arm through his and leaned in. “Maybe next time we should go skinny dipping,” she whispered. Harry’s eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. She giggled loudly when she saw his expression. 

He looked at her, unsure if she was serious. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

She nodded, satisfied. “And you like it … I can tell,” she stated, tapping the side of her head. Since he knew she was probably peeking into his mind, he didn’t bother trying to deny it. 

As they reached the top of the path, Harry felt a strange tingle at the base of his skull. He heard a voice. It was soft but clear. “Harry. Jean. Please come to my office at once.” It was Xavier, speaking directly into his mind.

Harry blinked in confusion. “Did you hear that?”

Jean nodded, her face suddenly serious. “The Professor wants us.”

“Should we go like this?” Harry asked, gesturing at his drenched shorts and bare chest.

Jean shrugged. “I suspect he’s seen worse … but if you’re shy, I can lend you my towel.” She grinned naughtily. 

Harry glared at her. “You’re relentless.”

Jean’s expression softened. “You’ll get used to it.” She squeezed his hand, then tugged him toward the house. They walked in step, silent except for the squelch of wet feet on the flagstones.

Inside, Jean led the way down the hall, pausing once to shake out her hair and spray water in every direction. She glanced at Harry’s chest, then at her own, and snorted. “We’re going to drip all over the carpet.”

He tried not to look, but the effect of the wet bikini on her body was impossible to ignore. Her nipples strained against the fabric, and the cold had tightened her skin into goosebumps. Jean caught his glance, smiled mischievously, and squeezed his hand again. “You really are easy to fluster.”

Harry tried to think of a retort, but his brain was still rebooting from the bikini incident. Instead, he just squeezed her hand back. They reached Xavier’s office, still dripping, and Jean knocked twice. “Come in,” Xavier’s voice said from behind the door.

Inside, Xavier sat behind his desk, flanked by Storm and Logan. Storm raised an eyebrow at their appearance but said nothing. Logan grinned and chuckled. “Nice outfit, Red. Potter, you look like a drowned rat.”

“Thank you, Logan,” Harry said in a deadpan voice.

Xavier cut in, his tone gentle but urgent. “We have a situation.” He gestured for them to sit, and they did, instantly dampening the leather chairs.

“There is a new mutant who just manifested in Illinois. She is terrified and unable to control her powers,” Xavier said. “I want the two of you to accompany me. Your job will be to reach her before anyone else does.” He looked directly at Harry. “I believe you are uniquely suited for this.”

Harry stared at him, then nodded. “What’s her name?”

“Kitty Pryde,” Xavier said. “She’s young and very confused. It is important that she feels safe.”

Jean’s demeanor shifted instantly, and the flirtatiousness was quickly replaced by laser-like focus. “We’ll do our best, Professor.”

Xavier smiled. “I know you will.” He looked at Harry. “Go change, and meet me at the Blackbird in ten minutes.”

Jean squeezed Harry’s knee under the desk. “See you in five,” she said, then sprinted out of the office. Harry followed, but not before catching Logan’s muttered, “Kids these days.”

In the hallway, Jean was already halfway to her room. She glanced back at Harry, tossed him a wink, and disappeared around the corner. He grinned and hurried to his own room to get dressed.

Harry's bedroom looked like a tornado had passed through. There were piles of t-shirts, jeans, and shorts on the bed, half borrowed from Scott and the rest from the haul Jean had forced him to buy. He pulled on a fitted black tee and cargo pants, and then he spent the next two minutes flattening his hair in the mirror, which accomplished exactly nothing. 

He heard someone calling for him in the hallway, and Harry instantly recognized Jean’s voice. Harry smiled, shook his head, and opened the door. Her arms were crossed, and she was tapping her foot. 

“You took forever,” she said. “Did you get lost in all that mess?” she asked, tilting her head to peek into his messy room. 

Harry snorted. “I was just deciding which ‘look’ to go with. There’s the ‘confused foreign exchange student,’ or the classic ‘escaped mental patient.’ Which do you think is more me?”

Jean eyed him up and down. “Definitely the second. Are you ready?”

“Let’s go.”

They started down the long corridor toward the elevator. On the way, a blue blur zipped across their path, nearly colliding with them. It was Kurt Wagner, or Nightcrawler, as he liked to be called. Kurt was the new mutant who had joined the team only a couple of days ago. He could teleport in a burst of black smoke, and when he learned that Harry could also teleport, Kurt decided that they were kindred spirits. 

Kurt was clutching an armful of candy bars, chips, and several cans of soda against his chest. He was doing his best to walk upright, but his prehensile tail kept flicking out behind him for balance. “Hey, Kurt!” Harry shouted, grinning.

Kurt froze mid-step, his eyes wide. Half the snacks slipped out of his arms and clattered across the floor.

“Oh, rats!” Kurt exclaimed, bending to pick them up. His tail helped by snaking out to snag a wayward Snickers before tossing it back in the pile. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Jean knelt and helped retrieve the fallen snacks. “Was this some kind of midnight raid?” she asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Nein. An afternoon raid,” Kurt corrected, stuffing two cans under his armpit. “But Storm, she says no snacks until after dinner. It is most unfair.” He cast a mournful look at Harry, as if hoping for sympathy.

Harry shrugged. “A man’s gotta eat.”

“Exactly!” said Kurt, beaming. “But you must not tell her. If she finds out, she will make me do laps around the lake again.”

Jean stood, holding out a bag of chips. Kurt accepted it reverently, bowing at the waist. “Your secret’s safe with us,” said Harry with a smile. 

Kurt flashed his fangs in a broad smile. “Excellent. Now, I must return to my quarters. Snacks taste better when you are not supposed to have them.” He bowed again, then darted down the hall, leaving a faint whiff of sulfur in his wake.

Jean giggled. “He’s like a little blue gremlin.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” said Harry, following her. “He might teleport you to North Korea and leave you there.”

They walked the rest of the way to the elevator and took it down to the lower level. They made their way through a long tunnel and eventually reached a massive hangar, where Storm was already running preflight checks on the Blackbird. The black jet was sleek and futuristic, glimmering under the harsh fluorescent lights.

Harry stared at it, his jaw slack. “That’s ours?”

Jean smirked. “Welcome to the X-Men, rookie.” He couldn’t help but smile back.

Professor Xavier was in his wheelchair, waiting patiently for them. Harry and Jean walked over and met him. “So, Professor, what can Kitty do?” Jean asked. 

“She can phase through solid matter,” said Xavier. “Walls, floors, doors … she is able to pass through them as if they were air. It is an ability that, if left unchecked, can be dangerous not only to herself, but to those around her. There are also those who would wish to use her powers for personal gain.”

“Has anyone else found her?” asked Harry, catching on quickly.

Xavier nodded gravely. “The Brotherhood already knows about her. I have no doubt they will try to get her to join their side. Time is of the essence, which is why we are taking the X-Jet.”

Harry glanced at Jean. “So what exactly do you want us to do?”

“I want the two of you to reach out to her. Show her she’s not alone. If possible, convince her to visit the school, or at least to trust us with her safety.”

Jean nodded. “When do we leave?”

“Immediately,” said Xavier. “We’ll take the Blackbird to O’Hare, then drive to Deerfield. Ororo and I will speak with the parents while you work on the girl.”

Storm’s voice came over the hangar’s loudspeaker. “The jet is prepped and ready to go,” she told them. 

Jean turned to walk toward the jet, but Xavier stopped her and added, “Jean, Harry … I’m trusting you to be careful. This is a delicate situation. You will be representing not just our school, but mutants everywhere.”

Jean squared her shoulders. “Understood, Professor.” Harry just nodded, a sudden rush of excitement and anxiety knotting his stomach.

Xavier smiled, and there was a hint of mischief in his eyes. “One last thing. Try not to get into trouble.”

Jean smiled cheekily. “We’ll try, but no guarantees.” Xavier chuckled and began rolling toward the jet’s lift. Harry and Jean quickly followed. 

Inside the jet, the seats were plush, and the control panel looked like the cockpit of a spaceship. Storm finished her checklist and turned to them. “Buckle up. We’ll be wheels up in two minutes.” She flipped a few switches, and the powerful engine roared to life. They were so powerful that Harry could feel the vibration through the seat. 

Harry strapped in, making sure the belts were extra tight. As far as he knew, this was his first time on a plane, let alone a powerful jet. Jean was beside him, strapping in. Her long, thick red hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her green eyes were shining with excitement. Harry knew how she felt. He was excited, too. 

He glanced at her, and she smiled at him. This was their first mission as part of the same team. A loud groan caught his attention, and in the distance, Harry saw a thick hangar door being lowered. The Blackbird lifted from the hangar floor, shot down the runway, and exited through the face of a cliff. They were on their way.