There was a persistent smile on Harry's face as he carefully extracted himself from the pile of naked bodies on his bed. It had been an interesting night, especially after Wanda managed to overcome her initial shyness. She was still a bit clumsy, but her eagerness was more than enough to compensate for it. He wished he didn't have anything else to do, that he could spend rest of the night with them as well, but he already arranged first set of private training for Xavier's younglings.

A quick shower and a long distance apparition later, he was once again standing in front of the mansion's entrance. He waved the door open and floated inside, feeling too lazy to walk, not to mention there was a side benefit to it. It was a sure bet that Xavier was going to watch every video Harry was in, trying to get a better hold of his personality. Feeding him some false clues through acting like a smug teenager would help to muddy his reasoning, especially since Charles couldn't use his telepathic abilities to compensate. Not without declaring a war, at least.

As he floated towards the main building, his attention shifted towards the more immediate issues, such as the content and the structure of the lessons he was about to deliver to his new students. But before he could make any progress, Logan appeared at the entrance. "Hi, kiddo. How are you?" he said, smiling widely.

"Well enough, old man," Harry answered, his smile matching to Logan's. He was surprised to see how easy it was to strike a casual friendship with Logan, spiced with occasional banter. Maybe, it was because Logan reminded him of Hagrid, in some ways at least. Logan was quite a bit smaller and much more inclined to violence, not to mention his acerbic tongue. Nevertheless, they both had a certain clear perspective of life, unencumbered with the useless things most people cared about. Of course, there were areas their similarity was less than welcome. For example, Harry wouldn't even imagine sharing his secrets with Logan, just as he never did with Hagrid. Unless he wanted the others to know it, of course. They fell into a casual discussion as Logan escorted him to the danger room. "So, Mr. Laserbeam is my first student," Harry said after they arrived at the danger room, seeing Scott waiting for him.

"Yes, as the field leader of the younglings, Charles thought it best to start with him," Logan said, his tone making it clear that he didn't agree with Xavier on that particular aspect. Harry agreed. He knew Scott only for a few days, but it was plain to see that he was obsessed with Jean. And Harry was the one that took her away. Put them both in a room with no previously established student-teacher relationship, and there was a high chance that the situation would develop explosively. Of course, it wasn't hard to see why Charles would want such a thing. It would give Charles the excuse to make Logan or Ororo a part of his lessons to 'make sure' they could handle any explosive situation, meanwhile limiting the influence Harry could exert on the students significantly, all without needlessly antagonizing him. Harry had to give it to him, Xavier was living to the moniker of chess master.

However, Xavier had missed one important thing. Scott was far from the first snot-nosed teenager with an inflated sense of superiority he was forced to handle, and he knew exactly which buttons to push. "No worries, Logan," Harry said, then walked into the room. His guess wasn't far off-base. Scott, already in his full uniform including his distinctive visor, was standing in the middle of the room, his mouth twisted into a scowl, his hands balled into fists. A stance he thought as intimidating, but looked more like constipated instead. Harry walked towards him, quite aware that Scott was looking for the flimsiest excuse to attack him. He decided to preempt the situation. "Let's start with a spar," he said. "Attack me."

A momentary shock grabbed him with Harry's sudden invitation of assault, but it lasted only for a second. Harry nodded in approval as Scott raised his hand towards his visor, about to launch a line of concussive blast. The attack was better than he expected, Harry thought as he ducked under one laser, and jumped over the following one. Of course, his initial delay was too long, which gave Harry the opening to finish the fight before it began, but he opted not to take it. Such an action wouldn't support his aim. Instead, he spent a minute strictly in defensive, dodging Scott's every attack, careful not to use any magic. It was less of a challenge than he expected, mostly because Scott was telegraphing his every attack long before they left the visor.

Then, Scott stopped his attack momentarily, and Harry decided to take the opportunity to finish the fight. He dashed towards Scott, dodging the punch he threw -again, predictable-, then took a hold of his wrist. A twist later, he was holding Scott in a submission hold, his head pinned in a way he couldn't look at Harry. He struggled, trying to loosen himself enough to hit Harry with one of his blasts, but the leverage Harry had, it was a child's play to keep him immobile even discounting the permanent boost of strength he received. "Submit?" Harry said.

In a vain attempt, Scott struggled to get free for another minute, in which Harry continued to hold him with no words offered, knowing it would be much more effective for his aims if Scott internalizes the situation he was in. "I submit," he murmured, his tone still defiant.

Harry loosened his hold, stood up, and walked until there was a long divide between them, deliberately presenting his back to him. It was a credit to Scott that he didn't take a sneak potshot, of which Harry deliberately created an opening for. It was nice to see Scott wasn't as horrible as some of the stuck up rich kids Harry had the displeasure of interacting at Hogwarts, who wouldn't hesitate to take an underhanded assault in a spar. "Again," Harry said, this time, not losing any time before dashing towards Scott, who managed to send two blasts until Harry managed to reach to him, then get forced to stop when swept his feet off the ground with a low kick, followed by another submission hold, ending the second spar. The third one ended even quicker, with Harry pulling Scott's visor in one pull after he entered melee range, leaving him effectively blind.

"So, what do you think I'm trying to teach you," Harry said in a conversational tone after several spars, all ended in Scott kissing the ground, though no two approach was the same.

"I need to work on my close combat," Scott answered, his teeth clenched in annoyance. "My technique is insufficient to fight against submission holds, my reflexes are not responsive enough, and I'm having trouble forcing distance if the attacker is nimble enough."

Harry upgraded his opinion about Scott a notch. He didn't think he would be able to keep his calm after several losses against someone he saw as a rival. But not only he did that, he also managed to identify his problem areas and communicated them despite the impact it had on his pride. "Good," Harry said. "But you missed one important factor. Your visor is a very dangerous leverage. One you cannot afford to lose in any condition."

"That's my curse," Scott spat in anger.

Harry nodded in understanding, and a little pity. He didn't want to imagine his own magic coming with such a drawback. Being forced to use a wand had been bad enough when he was young, but his magic flailing without control without his wand… It was a nightmare too hard to contemplate. "Maybe, maybe not. But in any case, there are two things we can do to make it less of a liability."

"Really?" Scott asked, hope blossoming in his face, making him glad that he was already planning to help him with his full might. Politics was one thing, but he wasn't about to mess with the health and progress of a teenager just because he had some issues with his teacher. It was too close to what Dumbledore tried to do with him, and he could never stomach such an action.

"Yes," Harry nodded. "First, we need to design you a new visor, one that doesn't fall down with a stiff breeze. Maybe a half-helmet or something." Scott nodded, astonished that he hadn't thought it before. "And second, we need to train you to fight without relying on your sight." Also, there were the third and fourth options, but Harry was reluctant to speak of them before making sure they were possible, not wanting to give false hope.

"How can I fight without seeing?" Scott asked, puzzlement, and a little derision, shaping his expression.

Harry closed his eyes. "Come at me with melee," he said, focusing on Scott's footsteps as he carefully walked closer, rightfully assuming it might not be as easy as it looked. He was right. Harry had trained to fight in darkness just in case, and while his skill suffered quite a bit without his eyesight, he wasn't exactly helpless, at least against a novice like Scott. He waited until Scott was quite near, then lunged towards him, pulling his arms to protect his face. He received a couple of fists to the stomach with quite a bit of force behind them. Unluckily for Scott, he was slow to pull back, leaving him in the grappling range. Even without his sight, it was trivial to pin Scott to the ground once more.

"I submit," Scott repeated, this time, his tone quite thoughtful. "Can you teach me how to fight like that?" he asked after they stood up.

"I can, at least on the beginner stuff. Anything more, we might have to bring a specialized trainer. Neither mine nor Logan's style is a good fit for you, we are too different, both physically and in doctrine." Scott nodded once more. "Good," Harry added. "Let's move on to the next step, ranged combat…"

From that point on, the training went much better, the promise of getting more efficient It was almost midnight when Harry left the mansion, and he was quite exhausted after having the sessions several male students back to back, thankfully none of the others had Scott's attitude problem. They weren't exactly friendly of course, but still a huge distance from actual hostility.

He wasn't physically tired, as his powers boosted him quite a bit when it came to physical limits, but mentally, he was spent. So, he teleported to his new mansion, wanting to catch some sleep, only to find a familiar owl flapping her wings over his bed. He reached for the letter, curious why Astoria sent an owl to him instead of calling his mobile like she usually did.

The letter managed to grab his attention even with the first few sentences. Apparently, one of Astoria's business partners talked her about a private business club for distinguished business people, inviting her to join. Astoria had joined, used to doing business that way thanks to Magical side. However, she noticed a brief mental scan during the recruitment meeting, one that was quite different from a legimency probe. Even though she had managed to defend herself with a false mind technique, she was reluctant to join their first meeting, not without someone to escort her at least. And who would be better than him as the principal investor of his business. She had warned him to be careful what to say on the phone, as she wasn't sure whether they had tapped into her communications. Harry agreed with her conclusion, if they were using mental assault as a screening tool, it was almost a certainty that they were using electronic tracing methods as well.

It hadn't been hard to draw the similarities between the power Astoria described and Xavier's telepathic abilities. Most likely mutants, Harry reasoned as he quickly scribbled a note of acceptance, saying her to call him and ask it through the phone as well. If they were tapping their phones, it would be better to create a communication trail. To do otherwise would be too suspicious. Then, he threw himself on his bed, catching his much-needed sleep.

Harry was confused when he woke up. He had experienced a weird lucid dream, one that filled his heart with urgency, but it slid from his consciousness like fine sand despite his best effort to keep it in his grasp. Even his mental abilities failed to retain more than disjointed scraps. He remembered brimstones, red, anger, and love… A confusing mess, one he was unable to put into order, or even see how they were linked. The only thing he knew was it wasn't a random dream. It was important, important enough to change his life.

Regardless, he stood up, and after a brief shower, he was ready to go out once more. He wanted to train once more, but the location to train was a problem. He managed to almost create a national crisis the last time he tried, and though Hermione managed to cover it up, he didn't think it would work a second time. And it was the most remote location he could find, far away from any land, distant from shipping lines, quite unimportant in general. It was impossible for him to find a more remote location on Earth to train…

Then something clicked in his mind. Yes, it was the most remote location he could have found on Earth, but he didn't have to stay restricted to Earth, was he? It was a half-baked idea with a chance of killing him, one he needed to do years of research before attempting it. But he wasn't a member of Gryffindor for nothing, so he waved his hand, disappeared from the room.

A second later, he was floating, surrounded by darkness, a blue orb far away under his feet. A spell that would allow himself to breathe was ready in his fingers, but he arrested the flow of the magic once he realized something interesting. He felt no need to breathe in the vacuum, his body working with no adverse reaction. Neither the lack of pressure, nor the deadly cold affected him the slightest. "Interesting," he murmured, though the sound failed to reach his ears, owing it to the lack of air.

For a moment, he toyed with the idea of shooting several high powered spells, giving an unexpected show of fireworks to the inhabitants of the Earth, but this time, his sensibilities managed to overcome his instincts. Sending several governments into a panicked frenzy wasn't something on his to-do list for the day. Instead, he teleported once more, this time, stretching his ability much harder than the previous one, until he found himself floating above the most famous storm of the Solar System, with one of the most ironic names. The little red spot of Jupiter, with a wind speed of almost four hundred miles per hour, lightning storms that made Earth's look like sparkles in comparison, and a pressure enough crack the strongest man-made structure. In other words, the perfect place to test the real limits of his abilities, both offensive and defensive. "Geronimo," he whispered as he canceled the power that allowed him to float, his body falling towards the deadly planet with the sudden absence of any power to counteract against the gravity of the gas giant…

It was almost two days later when Harry blinked into existence in his room once more. He was exhausted, his clothing was in tatters, but neither was able to remove the huge smile on his lips, driven by his failure to find the limits of his power. He was happy with his failure, because no matter how hard he pushed himself, he utterly failed to even discover a limit to his new power. He tried everything he could, firestorms larger than London, lightning bolts thicker than aircraft carriers, with enough energy to meet Earth's consumption for days, explosions with higher magnitudes than largest nuclear bombs… None of them managed to put a noticeable drain on his power. Even the mental strain from channeling an immense amount of power was not a real barrier, getting easier with each limit he pushed through. At the end of the second day, it was trivial to summon mountain-sized balls of magma or other feats that bordered on the godlike level. A benefit of being linked to the cosmic force of creation and renewal, he supposed.

Of course, it also scared him a little. With his polarized luck, it wouldn't be too long before an enemy appeared that forced him to use his newfound power, a fact less than comforting. He slid back to his bed, shrugged, deciding not to worry too much. There wasn't much he could do other than training and keeping his eyes open.

He was once again beset with a mess of feeling, coming from a forgotten dream. Pain, fires, love, longing… He tried to remember the source of his feelings, only to fail once more, even with the help of his mental talents. That, more than anything was enough to convince him that it was no ordinary occurrence. He took a note to spend some time, searching for its source, but for now, he had more urgent things to do, if the owl flying in front of his face with a letter tied to its leg was any indicator.

A quick browsing showed that Astoria's meeting with the Hellfire club had been shifted forward, and was about to happen in a couple of hours instead of the next week. Apparently, two bigshots of the club were coming from the New York branch for another meeting, and they wanted to meet with her before she joined. A suspicious development, Harry surmised, which explained the panicked tone of the letter. Astoria wasn't a slouch when it comes to recognizing a setup or an ambush. He changed into a casual business attire, slacks, navy blue blazer and white shirt combo, combined with brown leather belt and shoes. After a brief consideration, he put an expensive watch on his wrist. Acting like a rich, spoiled heir would help them to underestimate him.

He directly teleported to Astoria's living room, the owner of the room walking back and forth anxiously in the room. Astoria noticed his presence before he could say anything, and jumped towards him. "Harry," she said with a naked enthusiasm. "I'm so glad you are able to make it. I have a bad feeling about it."

Harry nodded. Ignoring one's instincts was seldom a good idea, especially if the one had a minor talent towards divination like Astoria. "Of course," he said. "A place that's named Hellfire club isn't the sort of place I'm willing to send you without any support."

"Thanks, you're the best," Astoria said, stealing a peck off his lips.

"Do you have any idea what made them suspicious?" Harry added. "Maybe they were able to notice your false mind?"

"No. At least I don't think so. It was different than a typical legimency assault, so I can't be completely certain, but the probe hadn't focused on any area that might reveal the fake memories."

"Maybe they were able to notice some discrepancies in detail?"

"Possible. But if I were to bet, I would bet on background check discovering most of the things on my background is a ruse," Astoria said.

"And they either have contacts on the magical side and discovered your real identity, or assumed you are a spy. Either way, it's quite likely that one of these heavy hitters will be a telepath. That, or someone else that has a weird ability to see the truth or something." Upon receiving a questioning look from Astoria, he launched a brief explanation on specialized talents appearing in otherwise mundane people, dubbed as mutations, much to Astoria's astonishment.

"Are they really that strong," Astoria asked, worry clear in her tone.

"They are, though their restricted specialization makes them quite limited when it comes to defending against the magic. Most of them have easily exploitable weaknesses even against mundane tactics. Anyway, we need to go if we don't want to be late. Is the car ready?"

"Yeah, the driver is on the street, waiting for us."

They walked downstairs. Harry whistled when he saw the limo waiting for them. "Nice choice," said.

"Thanks," Astoria answered with a crooked smile on her face. "I thought, just because we are going to a potentially deadly event doesn't mean we couldn't have fun on the way."

A smile spread across Harry's face as he leaned to catch Astoria's lips. It was nice to see his unusual approach to life was being applied by anyone around him. He opened the door, paying a special attention to the way her back arched, accentuating her bottom, clad tight by her little black dress, enjoying the sight of his appetizer.

She was already raising the barrier between the driver and the passengers as he stepped inside the limo. Before he could say anything, she leaned towards him and caught his lips, pushing her tongue aggressively. Harry let her establish the dominant position. With their bodies pressed together, her stress was even more pronounced, and Harry wanted to give her space to deal with it the way she wished before the dinner.

Still, that didn't prevent Harry from feeling enthusiastic when Astoria climbed on his lap without stopping their kiss even for a moment. He let his fingers trace upwards her leg, arriving at the edge of her panties in short order, her short dress providing no barrier since they already rode upwards thanks to Astoria's latest position. "I see your fingers are curious again," Astoria said when they broke for a breath, though she did nothing to pull them away.

Harry dragged his finger over her slit, feeling the texture of the damp fabric. "You can't expect an explorer to sit around when there are wonders to discover," he said as he traced the edges of her panties.

"Maybe I'm not," Astoria said, lowering her hand until she found his belt, opening it with a smooth, familiar manner. "Or maybe, I'm waiting for a different explorer to visit my wonder." His boxers turned ineffective under the same smooth assault, freeing his shaft free. Her fingers wrapped around his girth a moment later, extracting a happy moan from his lips soon after.

"But what if the explorer insists," Harry answered, sliding his fingers in the confines of her panties. Astoria opened her mouth to answer, but Harry had no intention of letting her speak. He laced his fingers with a generous layer of magic. A loud cry was ripped off her, but Harry didn't let her have any time to adapt, and started pushing his fingers inside her rhythmically. He was tempted to kiss her once more, but he also wanted to continue listening the symphony Astoria was creating. In the end, he decided to compromise. He grabbed the top of her dress and pulled down, revealing her perky breasts, unencumbered with any kind of bra, allowing Harry to dip his head to taste her pink wonders.

Several minutes, and two orgasms, later, Astoria managed to gather her wits enough to be able to control her hands once more. "That was nice," she murmured even as she stood up a bit, hovering above Harry's erection. She hooked her fingers to the edge of her panties, and lowered herself towards his shaft. But before Harry could push himself inside her, the limo came to a stop. "Ups, I think we are already at the restaurant," Astoria said, but doing no move to pull back, the expression on her face tempting him to skip the meeting they were about to attend…