Chapter 2: Convincing Conviction

Harry hated storms. No, that wasn't quite right. He despised them.

Rain was relentless, and cold. Another crack of thunder echoed, rumbling throughout the skies. As he gazed out the transparent crystal window of the enormous black jet they were in, Harry saw drops of water drumming hard on the thick glass. He could hear it pounding away at the great metal bird, deafening, so loud he could just make out the soft snores next to him. Harry sighed to himself as he stroked Hermione's bushy brown hair. She and Neville had quickly fallen asleep while Draco and he stayed quite awake during the last two hours of flight.

Never before had Harry truly thought about just how far Hogwarts was from the Dursleys. Hogwarts was in Scotland, while the Dursleys' house of Number Four Privet Drive was just a Sunday drive from the city of London. And though the two places were within the United Kingdom together, Harry felt as though they were entire worlds apart.

"The weather is going delay our time by at least another hour indefinitely…" the man upfront muttered to Mr. Logan while the latter grunted in annoyance.

In reality, Harry figured that it shouldn't have taken any more than three to four hours to reach Surrey. Maybe even one or two. He fidgeted in his seat.

Harry was glad they had not yet reached the Dursleys. He had absolutely no idea what he was going to say to them. Would they even let him inside long enough to convince them to let him go to a school all the way across the Atlantic Ocean? Harry figured that any other time the answer would have been a resounding yes, and that the Dursleys would have his bags packed for him before he could even blink.

And yet, this time he was not so sure.

With the way things had started off this school year, Harry couldn't bank on the Dursleys sending him away free of charge. After all, he had been the cause of Dudley's less than pleasant cationic-state before being whisked away by the Order. Would his aunt and uncle hold that against him? Take away this opportunity purely to spite him?

For once in his life, Harry was severely unsure of how his relatives would receive him. Uncertain of how they would react. But mostly, how they would respond to the request where he needed an absolute affirmative response.

Harry couldn't stand the rain.

"I can't believe my father's sent me away with the likes of you, Potter." Draco Malfoy was very much awake and still highly cranky. Harry barely gave the blond boy a glance. He didn't have the energy to argue with Malfoy. He was too nervous about his current predicament to care about Malfoy's own gripes with having to stick around for however long they were stuck together.

So daddy sent him away? Big whoop. Harry couldn't have cared less what Malfoy and his bloody father did at this point.

"Stupid Potter, always ruining my bloody life…" he heard Malfoy mutter beneath his breath. That was the prat did best anyhow. Cross his arms, pout, and glare like a five year-old throwing a silly tantrum to get what he wants. Yup, that was Draco Malfoy for you, and Harry could not be more ashamed that people thought this was his foil. His nemesis. His arch-emery and rival, somehow.

Honestly, Harry loathed rain.

Mister Xavier was asleep, or at least appeared to be asleep. Harry was under the impression that the man did not know 'sleep' as Harry knew it to be. No, Harry could tell by how subtly drawn Xavier's face was that he was not truly asleep, not truly resident in the land of dreams and nightmares. Whatever sort of state the wheelchair bound man was in, Harry would not interrupt it even with his questions tearing away at his insides. He wanted Dumbledore with him on the plane, reassuring him that everything would be fine and that he'd take the lead on this one. Harry was no good at convincing people to do what was against their nature.

And giving Harry something he wanted was always against the Dursleys nature.

While Harry allowed himself to be eaten away at by both his insecurities and the uncertainty that lay before him, Charles Xavier observed all of this with a calm born from years of practice. Though he appeared perfectly at rest to the outside world, Charles' mind never slept so easily. He found that while his body could indulge in slumber, his mind remained ever vigilant and agile. His acute mental powers, however, gave him something to do while his body slept. His mental abilities allowed him to see into the minds of others more clearly and far more subtly than when he was awake.

For instance, he could sense Harry's conflict. He worried over how the Dursleys would receive them when they came asking for permission to take Harry into his school. The underlying instability and random nature of how these thoughts crossed Harry's mind showed severe signs of an unusual upbringing where curiosity was beaten down and imagination stomped out like the embers of a once raging fire. Obviously Harry's relatives had suppressed him as best they could, but Xavier was one who looked to the future. The past was the past, and he believed that unless it benefited a person, that was exactly where it should stay. Harry had grown into a fine young man so far. A little rough around the edges, a bit of emotional numbness along with a few other minor problems, but those could all be solved within a few months' time at his institution where he would be able to give Harry therapy sessions every so often.

Charles also felt the Malfoy boy's own instability. This young man, Draco Malfoy, was quite nervous. First the boy was anxious over the idea of going into new territory with the transfer, and he was fretful with being inside the Blackbird. The pureblooded wizarding child had never been in such a thing as a plane, especially not a jet like the Blackbird. Draco's mind appeared more frightened of the contraption than he was curious, but Xavier supposed that was how wizard parents conditioned their children to deal with the unknown and unusual everyday objects of the normal non-magic world.

There was also quite a bit of anger. The young Malfoy heir was indeed livid with his father for sending him away. Draco's mind was a turmoil of emotions. He was angry with his father, yes, but also distraught with how easily his paternal had cast him away to what the young Malfoy thought were the enemy; muggles. As much as he wanted to hide it, Draco could not hide his disappointment from Charles' psychic prowess. Draco's mental state was a war of anger, pride, sadness, and fear, and just the beginning glimmers of hope that Charles Xavier wanted to ignite into something productive.

He also needed to deal with the unhealthy amount of hatred the young Malfoy boy had for Harry and for meeting new people. But Charles supposed that could come in due time.

Next Xavier turned his psychic focus onto Hermione Granger, whose enthusiasm was a bright beacon he wished the others could see like he saw now. The girl was highly excited to start back at a normal school and pick up her rudimentary subject matter. Glancing over her class time memories, young Hermione seemed to be a star student no matter where she went. Primary school or Hogwarts, Hermione Granger appeared to succeed despite the stark difference in curriculum. She was absolutely giddy to prove herself an excellent student once again in a new place, and Xavier was sure to give her the chance. He enjoyed her enthusiasm and would never deter such a thing in one so bright.

Neville Longbottom, however, was fairly different from Hermione Granger. The boy was a bundle of nerves. He worried about making his grandmother proud. Ah yes, Xavier remembered speaking to the elder woman quite vividly. She suggested that Neville making a fresh start would give him some fresh perspective as well. It was her opinion that some time with the muggles would also toughen the young Mister Longbottom up a bit, too. At the moment Neville was, however, too afraid of what to expect and what would be expected from him to think about anything else.

These beginning adults were certainly an odd bunch thrown together, but Charles was positive he could and would bring out the best in each and every one of them.

"All right there, Harry?" the boy in question looked up from his inner musings to see Neville next to him, rousing from his sleep. The round-faced boy was struggling with his own nerves, shaking and trembling like a leaf in the wind as he stared around them. He must have forgotten about the plane and all. Neville was very pale and sweating a little, but Harry felt that Neville was incredibly brave to be worried about him rather than himself at the moment.

"Umm, yeah, Neville," Harry said, turning to his friend and hoping his voice was nonchalant. Neville had grown up his entire life as a wizard, and by that standard Malfoy was probably having the same issues with the plane ride. Harry glanced over Neville to see Draco Malfoy fumbling his fists together, knocking his knuckles against each other in a very nervous fashion, "I'll be just fine. How are you holding up?"

"Not sure," Neville was honest with Harry, if nothing else. He tried to smile, but ended up with a grimace when the plane trembled a second from turbulence. "My Gran wanted me on this student transfer as soon as she heard the idea out of Professor Dumbledore's mouth. Said it would toughen me up… I hope it does."

"Why?" Harry already thought Neville was brave. Maybe not tough, exactly, but everyone got a bit of bad nerves every now and then.

"Well, my Dad had special training when he joined up with the Aurors, he did. My Gran thinks this'll be some of the same." Neville managed a smile then, and his cheeks were flushed pink.

"Sounds to me like you're excited about it, too." Harry smiled back a little, and Neville squeaked with laughter, but went pale as the plane bucked once again. They heard thunder outside, and the lightning flash lit up the less than roomy plane hangar.

"Well, my parents think I've been selected to go to a prep-school that helps in the cooperation of both muggle and magical education." Hermione said after a long stretch of silence, failing to contain a yawn afterward.

Harry turned to Draco, who was now looking a little sweaty with his hair sticking to his forehead. "And what about you, Malfoy?"

"Shut up, Potter!" Draco snapped, making Neville and even Hermione flinch back at the volume of his voice. Harry had half-expected that reaction, but still scowled all the same.

After all, they were going to be stuck with each other for the rest of the term. Harry figured he might as well get used to being snapped at now…

"Miss Granger," Xavier's voice sounded lightly from where he was now stirring, "why don't you go up to the cockpit and have my associate Mr. McCoy teach you a thing or two about the jet we're currently inside. Your file has shown you to be quite the eager learner, and I am a proponent for turning every moment into a learning experience."

Hermione turned bright red in the face as she fumbled with her safety belt and stuttered out words to the wheelchair-bound psychic before tripping over her own feet up to the front of the jet. Harry smiled at her back, laughing a little inside as he knew Hermione would enjoy every second at the front of the plane. Even now Harry could hear their pilot, Mr. Hank McCoy introducing himself to everyone before turning back to give Hermione pointers on the controls of the jet.

Harry thought for half a second that he would ask to join Hermione in learning to fly the plane. It would be a nice distraction from thinking about the Dursleys.

Then his hand brushed against the cold metal of the seat where his chair cushion and Neville's were spaced apart. It left him with the same feeling as when he made contact with the many old and ugly rings Umbridge wore. His stomach started to churn and he felt the blood in his veins pulse as if flowing from him into the plane before coming back again like some kind of odd heartbeat he shared with the contraption. Harry clammed down on even looking around to see if it was just him having these strange occurrences as he shut his eyes tight and focused on his breathing. The touch of metal made him feel sick, but nowhere near as badly as it was when Umbridge had grabbed him. It was more like trying a particularly strong foreign dish for the first time. Strange, yet not totally unpleasant.

"All right there, Harry?" Neville inquired through the tremble of his voice. Harry nodded, not even trusting his voice at the moment.

Before he could muster up a response, however, Mr. McCoy spoke up from the front of the cockpit while Hermione dashed back to her seat and locked herself into the seatbelt.

"It would seem that Miss Granger has spotted a break in the weather patterns." Mr. Hank said smoothly as Harry felt the plane shift subtly to one side and descend. The others didn't seem to notice anything, and again Harry wondered if this was another of those things only he understood. Like talking to snakes. "I'm going to take the Blackbird under the cloud line, and make our descent onto Surrey where the rain has paused indefinitely. Everyone prepare yourselves for landing."

Harry glanced uncomfortably at Neville beside him as he felt the meatier boy grab the seat and hold onto it for dear life.

Neville's childhood had been blighted by Voldemort just as much as Harry's own childhood had, but Neville had his grandmother to support him. Harry supposed he had Sirius every now and then now, but it just wasn't the same as having your flesh and blood look out for you. Harry knew he would never get that from the Dursleys.

Then something suddenly occurred to Harry.

"We forgot Luna!" Harry blurted out all at once, making Neville and Hermione jump while Draco cursed at him.

"Language please, Mr. Malfoy. And as to your sudden outburst, Harry, we have not, in fact, forgotten Miss Lovegood. She has decided to abstain from the long trip to the school in favor of spending the last few days with her father." Professor Xavier said with the utmost calm, "It was an offer Professor Dumbledore and myself extended to all, but only she accepted."

"My father wouldn't hear of it, you old coot." Draco hissed, and did not look the least bit worried about his remark. Neither did Professor Xavier for that matter, and this only served to make Draco angrier.

"My Gran thought I should jump right in the thick of things." Neville told Harry with a nervous smile as the plane hitched while sweeping out of the cloud cover. The rain had now stopped beating at the plane and the winds were dying down now that they were out of the bad weather.

Harry turned to Hermione, who was smiling at him with a strange look in her eyes. "I declined because I knew you wouldn't accept the offer to be with your relatives. I wanted to support you as much as I could from the beginning, and my parents approved of my choice to do so."

Harry smiled back at her, sure that he couldn't ask for a better friend at the moment. He knew that if Ron were there with them, he would have made the same choice as Hermione. His friends, truest of true, were his saving grace at Hogwarts from his very first ride on the Hogwarts Express.

The sleek black jet hitched a fraction, and Harry was sure he felt it more acutely than anyone else around him as they started to descend below the cloud line. Neville and Draco were already white-knuckle gripping their seats in fear of their lives, but even Professor Xavier hadn't shifted the slightest at what he should have felt from this being his personal aircraft. Harry wondered if he would always feel this way around metallic objects as he opened himself up more and more to his new powers. Hogwarts never had much in the way of metal, as the most he ever saw of it was at mealtimes in the Great Hall. The glittering golden plates and silver utensils never gave him much impression, but perhaps it was because he never gave them much thought before. They were just plates, forks, and spoons after all. When Umbridge had grabbed him, he focused his full attention on the woman and how vile she was. Maybe that was why the rings had disturbed him so much? The plane didn't make him feel sick as Umbridge's touch did. In fact, the plane made him feel safer than the woman ever could.

"Mr. Potter," the voice of one Hank McCoy came from in front of him. Harry blinked owlishly as he was visually assaulted by blue fur dressed in smart clothes, "The others are waiting for you to disembark. I can understand your nervousness on what to expect from relatives this day, but as it was said by sir H.P Lovecraft, "The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown." Taking this to mean that you'll be just fine, I hope it helps you today."

Harry, not one to judge on appearances as of late, gave Hank McCoy a solitary nod as he worked up the courage to get up from his seat. "Thank you."

"No thanks are necessary. We've all been down the well-trotted road of self-doubt." Hank gave Harry a wink and a light nudge until they were both exiting the jet off the ramp way. "And take it from one with thicker fur than you, sometimes people can surprise you; even when you think you've known them your entire life."

Harry only managed a half-hearted smile at those last words. Hank had no idea the amount of animosity the Dursleys held toward him and his parents for being different. For them to find out that he was even more different would surely not be a pleasant surprise for them.

Harry turned around as he stepped out into the cold wet air of Surrey. The grounds were damp and fresh with rain waters as puddles scattered here and there in the afternoon light. The skies were still a drab grey as the clouds lingered over them in a slow lazy pace.

"Are you not coming, Hank?" Harry figured the well-mannered and pleasant man wouldn't take much offense to being called by his first name. He remembered Harry greatly of a more sophisticated and well-groomed Hagrid. Harry could see himself forming a lasting friendship with the blue-furred individual.

"Afraid not, young Harry," Hank said with a small smile before straightening his Oxford tie. "As much as I would like to greet your relatives, I'm afraid that my appearance may detract from the talking point of today's subject. It is one of the reasons I elected to stay on the jet when collecting you and your peers."

"My relatives know about magic. In fact, blue fur aside, I think a well-mannered chap like you might actually get along greatly with them." Harry suggested, mostly because he didn't want Hank to feel that he had to hide away from anyone, least of all people like the Dursleys, simply because of his appearance.

"A fair point, but Charles is just as good a scholar as I, and he doesn't leave fur on a chair when excusing himself to the restroom." Hank said lightly with a good-natured smile. Harry and Hank turned to where Professor Xavier was waiting alongside Hermione, Logan, Neville, and Draco for Harry at the street. Harry only then realized that the jet was landed in the middle of the empty park where he and his cousin had been chased by Dementors only a month beforehand.

"Mostly because he doesn't have any to shed," Harry whispered to Hank, and both shared an amused smile at the expense of the bald professor. Harry wasn't worried, however. Charles seemed like the type of man who would join in on their banter if he knew. In fact, Harry was sure Charles knew they were talking about him from the way he started chuckling to himself, drawing odd looks from Draco, Hermione, and Neville. Logan, however, had heard everything and understood it seemed as when Harry turned back and walked toward them, he gave Harry a knowing smile.

"I'll just keep the jet warm for our departure, then." Hank said in farewell, waving to the group as the exit ramp went up and cut them off from him.

"Now then," Charles began as Harry was in front of him, "please, if you would Harry, guide the way to your relative's home."

"Yes sir," Harry nodded as he followed the request. He took the lead as he knew these streets like the back of his hand. It made him feel a little better about the whole experience. How, even when he was a stranger to all the muggles that lived in the area, he knew it as well as any of them.

As their group made way through Little Whinning and toward Privet Drive, neighbors and bystanders who were entirely too accustomed to the rainy weather of England gave the party nervous looks and whispered words of gossip. For once in his life, Harry felt their queer gazes and muttered words wash over him as he thought about how he would never again be subject to anyone's scrutiny within all of Surrey.

That was to say, Harry hoped that by the time he finished his education, he could live anywhere he damn well chose to set himself up.

"Filthy muggle neighborhood…" Draco seethed as he glared at the people peeking past their curtains and standing out on their drenched lawns just to gawk at them. While the attention of lesser beings was all well and good, a Malfoy was never to be an object in their eyes, but instead a standard they could never reach. "Have they nothing better to do than google at us like we're a bunch of trained circus monkeys?"

"Probably not…" Harry muttered, running a hand over his messy dark hair.

"Well, regardless of their stares, I feel that your relatives will see reason, Harry." Charles said in an attempt to distract the others with conversation. Logan wheeled his chair behind him, grunting and growling at the people, who shied away from making themselves an annoyance upon the large and burly man.

"Sorry to disappoint, professor, but my relatives aren't exactly the kindest of people." Harry said, glad for the distraction no matter how little he cared about the stares right then, "They don't take kindly to anything outside their realm of normal, and that extends to wizards and mutants alike. They don't even like the boy down their street who is as sweet as can be just because he's a little slow in the head."

"Then we will have to make them see reason, won't we?" Charles said with far more confidence than Harry felt at the moment. He didn't understand where this confidence came from, but couldn't deny the man if he thought better of people Harry had grown up under. Maybe there was a way that Xavier could make them warm up to the idea of letting go of Harry. Not that it would take much convincing on that part.

It was the letting him go so he could better himself that would put mud in their cake.

Walking onto Privet Drive, Harry stared ahead as though time had slowed to a crawl before him. Everything was as he had last seen it a month ago. The entire street was just as pristine and uniform as though the rain had never even come. The only sign left that it did was how everything was water-logged and wet from the weather.

"This is your street? Surrounded on all sides by muggles?" Draco sneered at Harry, "I actually feel sorry for you, Potter. No wonder you didn't know good friendship in First Year."

"I'll take that as best I can, Draco." Harry said, and it seemed Draco took slight offense to his first name drawn so casually from Harry's mouth. If the blond was going to be petty and spiteful at every chance, Harry was going to find it very hard to be civil over the length of their time under Professor Xavier's care at his American school.

Every step they took along the short distance to Number Four grew heavier and heavier to Harry. He felt as if he were wadding through a sea of lead by the time they were in front a house that looked like every other on the street, aside from the number four that was displayed on the mailbox of the residence. Harry wondered briefly if they would even open the door for him, but that was cut short when the door to the house was flung open and Uncle Vernon was standing in the doorway with Aunt Petunia hovering just behind him.

Harry belatedly realized that his uncle was holding his repaired shotgun in a death grip.

"Oi! You!" Fifteen years of being addressed thus left Harry in no doubt whom his uncle was calling out to. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here with your kind to intimidate us! And after what you did to your own cousin!"

"I told you already, it wasn't me." Bringing up that incident made Harry defensive and angry, but Charles reached out, and stopped his forward advance. "It was the dementors!"

"And you let them! Probably just stood by and watched while he was getting driven loopy!" Vernon hissed, his hands shaking as the shotgun went slack. "Had a good laugh, did you?"

"Perhaps it would be better if we discussed these matters inside," Charles said to them all, especially when the neighbors began poking their heads outside their doors and windows.

"Yes, Vernon, please come inside and let me make you some tea." Aunt Petunia said fretfully. After all, what would the neighbors think if Vernon shot anyone right on their lawn without proper context to the situation?

Inside the living room of the Dursley household, Harry found himself feeling even more the part of a stranger than he already had been in the home. With Dudley in a hospital, possibly going out of his mind, Harry felt hollow and weak once his defensive anger left him. He didn't sit, even when his aunt and uncle gestured for him to. Instead he stood to one side with his hands jammed deep in his trouser pockets as it was the first time he had ever entered the house with his school robes still on. Normally he would have been in jeans and a shirt, but they had rushed from Hogwarts so fast that there was no time to change.

Thankfully, Charles and Logan looked as muggle as anyone could. In fact, it was probably why they were offered cups of tea while all Hermione, Neville, and Draco got were disgusted looks before they had cups set far in front them on the sitting room table.

Taking a closer look at his relatives, Harry saw that they were dressed for traveling: Uncle Vernon in a fawn zip-up jacket and Aunt Petunia in a neat salmon-colored coat. If Dudley were with them, then he would complete the family's set with his favorite leather jacket he had gotten for his birthday from Aunt Marge.

"Dudley is upstairs," Aunt Petunia said without preamble, a pinched look on her face as she narrowed her eyes at Harry, "He was released from the hospital three days ago. Doctors couldn't do much for him, but a nurse talked us up about stuffing him full of chocolate."

Harry froze at hearing that news, and allowed a small smile to grace his face at hearing about his cousin's improving health. "Oh yeah, chocolate helps loads!"

"Would have done well with that bit of advice before you left, boy." Uncle Vernon muttered, but Harry could see that his heart wasn't in it. They were all still just glad that Dudley was going to be okay, and Harry saw that Vernon no longer had the shotgun, but had put it away at some point.

"Your son's improving health is good news, and I can assure that your nephew here feels terribly about the entire situation. It was not his fault, and yet he feels awful for the consequences your son had to pay in it."

"As the boy should!" Vernon snarled, and Logan snarled back. They glared hard at each other, and neither backed down. Two large men, one of fat and the other muscle.

"My name is Charles Xavier, sir and madam. I am here to offer your nephew Harry Potter a place in my school."

"He already goes to school." Petunia said shakily, eyeing Harry's school robes distastefully.

"A school for freaks." Vernon put in, daring anyone to say otherwise.

"And my school is for gifted youngsters, just as Harry is." Xavier continued as though Vernon had not spoken, "My institute is in the United States of America, and Harry would be able to attend my school for gifted youngsters free of charge. He will, however, be back for one week out of the year in order to have a meeting with you and one of our professors about his continued education and progress at the institute."

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia shared a look, one that Harry often saw whenever they told the neighbors that Harry was a troubled boy they just couldn't straighten out. Charles must have caught the look too, because a moment later his face set sternly and he appeared as if he were about to scold two children.

"I can assure you both this is not an institute for the troubled or disturbed, but a place of growth and potential for young people with abilities similar to your nephew." Charles expressed firmly. "The institute helps guide those with special abilities in order for them to control and hone their powers for the betterment of mankind. Just think about all the good Harry can do for his fellow man once he has control of his abilities!"

Again the looks between Petunia and Vernon were shared, but this time they were slightly skeptical instead of patronizing.

"What lot of good could the boy possibly do with his freakiness?" Petunia asked, her hands nervously trying to wrap around those of her husband's meaty ones. The married pair seemed a lot more comfortable with the wheelchair-bound telepath in a suit than they did with the century old wizard in brightly-colored robes and pointed hat.

Maybe appearances did go a long way with his relatives, Harry figured as he watched Xavier discuss at length just how Harry could, in fact, help normal people with his magic.

"…He could even help make repairs in an instance which would take a normal man an entire afternoon. If given the chance, Harry could be a bridge between the three factions of the world."

"Three factions, you say?" Uncle Vernon looked bewildered for a moment, "What else is out there?"

"Mutants, Mr. Dursley," Professor Xavier finally said it aloud, and the Dursley couple recoiled as if struck.

"So he's a mutant as well?" Aunt Petunia stared at Harry in horror as if he were a sewer-person come to devour her flesh.

"Well, technically speaking, all wizards and witches are mutants because they possess the irregular genetic mutation which produces their magical ability through metaphysical manipulation." Xavier coughed lightly into his fist, seeing that he had lost the entire room as he went off in tangent.

"I am not some disgusting mutant, you old coot…" Draco muttered with his arms folded tightly over his chest. He refused the tea in front of him, and refused to sit on their cheap furniture. He stood on the opposite wall from Harry, behind Logan and opposite Hermione and Neville who sat on the couch.

Vernon Dursley said nothing at all. Harry did not doubt that speech would return to him, and soon — the vein pulsing in his uncle's temple was reaching danger point — but something about Professor Xavier seemed to have robbed him temporarily of breath. It might have been the blatant plainness of his appearance, but it might, too, have been that even Uncle Vernon could sense that here was a man whom it would be very difficult to bully.

"Ah, good evening," Xavier said, and then turned to the doorway where Dudley had that moment peered round the living room door. Harry was surprised to see his large, blond cousin all pale and shaky while leaning heavily on the doorframe. His mouth gaped in astonishment and fear. Harry was surprised, not because Dudley was awake and there, but because before that moment, Dudley had never snuck up on anyone.

Xavier waited a moment or two, apparently to see whether any of the Dursleys were going to say anything, but as the silence stretched on he smiled. "You must be young Dudley Dursley. I am Professor Charles Xavier, and it is a pleasure to meet you."

These words seemed to rouse Uncle Vernon back to the present. It was clear that as far as he was concerned, after the dementor business a month earlier, no one with a background in freakiness was allowed to speak to his son; no matter how well-mannered and completely muggle they appeared.

"I don't mean to be rude—" he began, in a tone that threatened rudeness in every syllable.

"— yet, you would be if that is how you first phrase yourself." Xavier finished for him, hands folded neatly into his lap. "Perhaps a demonstration of my own mutant ability is in order to convince you of our good intentions. You see, I am a telepath. A psychic, if you will."

"You're a con-artist, more like it!" Here Vernon raised his voice, and would have advanced on the wheelchair-bound man if Logan hadn't stepped protectively to the professor's side with an animalistic growl. Petunia pulled at his arm and whimpered fretfully. "There might be a bunch of stick-waving mumbo-jumbo magicians and crackpots, but psychics are as real as unicorns!"

"Unicorns are real, Vernon," Petunia whispered at him, and he turned to google at her for the clear betrayal she had just voiced. She threw her hands up defensively, "I'm just saying they are, is all! Facts are facts, dear!"

"Well leprechauns are—"

"Real."

"Mermaids—"

"Real."

"Dragons!"

"Very real. Nearly burned down my parents' cottage when Lily and I were thirteen."

"Regardless!" now Vernon's face was a very ugly shade of puce. "You'll not be wheeling another inch near my son! He's had enough of your freak-trippe, and so have I, Mister Xavier!"

"Charles is just fine, Mr. Dursley," the professor said before placing a hand at his temple, and closing his eyes gently, "and I won't need to move another inch. Easing your son's mind of the effects from the dementors will be a simple task from right where I am at the moment."

Dudley looked like a fish caught on a line for a second as he stood ramrod straight one second, and then sagged with relief the next. He was no longer shaking, and some color was quickly returning to his cheeks and neck. Xavier opened his eyes, and smiled benignly at the Dursleys.

"It would seem that the dementors could not show your son the worst moment of his life, as they are well-known to induce in their victims." Xavier narrowed his eyes a bit, but still smiled, "This is because you've raised your son without a moment of pain or discomfort. The only torture the dementors could inflict upon young Dudley was to proverbially hold up a mirror to him, and show him as he truly is to the world around him; spoiled, bratty, and ill-mannered."

"How dare you!" Vernon roared, jumping to his feet at the offense thrown to him and his wife. Logan was in front the professor just as quickly; his muscles taunt for action. He spread his arms wide, and Harry was shocked as shining metal claws slid smoothly from between Logan's knuckles. That made Vernon jump back, but he forgot about the loveseat behind him and he collapsed back onto it, nearly landing on his wife in the process.

"Just give me a reason to make whale-burger out of you, bub!" Logan snarled like a cornered beast, and silence reigned afterward.

"I'll not be talked down to like this — IN MY OWN HOUSE!" Vernon yelled, spit flying from his mouth.

"Vernon, sweetie, calm down!" Aunt Petunia was whimpering as she tried to pull her husband into his seat.

"Now really, sir. You should try to remain pleasant."

"LET'S GO, YOU HAIRY LITTLE MAN!"

"COME ON, FATSO!"

"We can work something out. Please, be calm, Mr. Dursley!"

"I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD MOUNTED OVER THE FIREPLACE!"

"NOT IF I SKIN YA ALIVE FIRST!"

"I knew the muggles were no better than animals!"

All the noise. All the yelling. All the—the everything! Harry felt as though every sound and person and emotion was right at his ear and pressing tight against him. His head. His mind. His heart. Squeezing. Clasping. Choking.

And he wanted an end to it.

"EVERYONE BE QUIET!" he roared at the top of his lungs, releasing everything into making it all stop. The room around them reverberated until every object had either fallen or broken. The electric fire the Dursleys had bought to replace the old one destroyed by the Weasleys was crushed as easily as a soda can. Logan was knocked back into the farthest corner where he cracked the ceiling with the impact of his head against it. The picture frames twisted grotesquely away from his raw power. The couch was wrapped under Hermione and Neville, making them jump in their seat. The lights in the room flickered off and on as though the wiring had gone faulty. Draco hoped away from the wall as several metal pipes had rattled loudly beneath the wallpaper. The floor quivered at their feet.

But most and best of all; everyone was silent. Everything had stopped.

And Harry was left breathless by the relief it gave him for it all to just go quiet for ten seconds. That was all he wanted right then, and it was what he got.

He got more than that as the room stayed silent for a good two to three minutes afterward. Harry didn't care if he had caused a lot of damage. Did not care if the Dursleys would send him back to Hogwarts or lock him up in a cupboard. Didn't care that Logan was shooting him dirty looks as he got up from the floor. Didn't care that everyone else was staring at him with fear and apprehension.

Everything was quiet. And that was all he wanted.

After a few more moments of silence, Xavier spoke up again. "I h-have eased away the memories of his encounter with the de-dementors… He should not be troubled by the memories anymore, but it would be wise if he remembered the lesson from it."

It looked like they were all just going to ignore what Harry had just done. Okay, cool. Harry shrugged to himself.

Dudley nodded his pudgy face as fast as he could to the words from Professor Xavier. Harry was sure his cousin was still deeply aware of the effect the dementors had on him, but seemed as if it were a year ago instead of a month. Harry looked curiously at his cousin. They had had virtually no contact after the dementors had attacked that night a month ago, as Harry had been collected by the Order so quickly afterward. It now dawned on Harry that while he himself was now acquainted with the dementor threat, Dudley was profoundly changed by it as though it were a turning point to his life. After opening his mouth once or twice more, Dudley subsided into scarlet-faced silence.

"Mutants and wizards can help normal people, Mr. Dursley," Xavier began in a gentle and encouraging tone. Vernon and Petunia finally tore their gazes away from Harry to look at the professor. "All we ask is the chance to foster that opportunity. Let me show Harry how to help others with his powers, so he may one day stop another from falling to the fate of your son. To save another from the attack of a dementor. Or perhaps cure people of a fatal disease. There are boundless possibilities in front of Harry, let him explore them. Don't let him fall into what just occurred; emotional devastation."

Vernon and Petunia were again sharing looks between them, but this time they seemed confused as to their next step. They held their hands tight in each other's grip, and it was Petunia who spoke first. She cast a swift look at the twisted picture frames and flinched back.

"If the boy can be of any u-use, then you can have him, professor." Petunia said, and then she suddenly burst into tears as she rose from the loveseat and embraced Dudley rather than Harry. "I just don't… I don't know where we went wrong with the boy…!"

The approving look Hermione had been giving Aunt Petunia changed to outrage as the woman continued to sob into Dudley's massive chest.

"Oh this is just rubbish!" Hermione finally threw her hands up, and was done with the entire theatre that was the Dursley family. Neville seemed to only want to sit there and disappear into the background. Draco made disgusted noises from the back of throat every ten seconds.

While his aunt was crying waterfalls onto her now fully recovered baby boy, Harry's uncle had risen and began scribbling his signature to a sheet of paper Professor Xavier had pulled from his coat pocket. Harry stood there, torn between annoyance and a desire to laugh as Aunt Petunia continued to clutch at Dudley as if he had just saved someone from a burning building.

"S-such a lovely b-boy… my little Dikky-Duddikins… Mama loves you so m-much…"

The group made its way out, even while the professor watched the exchanges with an air of bemusement.

"We really must be off, then." Xavier said as he pulled himself together. Harry was sure he would never see the man so confused again. Charles leaned forward in his wheelchair, and shook Vernon's hand. "Thank you for seeing what could be done instead of what is happening now. I hope we meet again."

"For your sake, that had better not be until the summer months, Mr. Xavier." Vernon's mustache bristled sternly.

Dudley gently released himself from his mother's clutches and walked toward Harry, who had to repress an instinctual reaction to threaten him with magic. Then Dudley held out his large, pink hand.

Harry stared.

"Blimey, Dudley," Harry said over Aunt Petunia's renewed sobs, "did the dementors blow a different personality into you?"

"Dunno," Dudley muttered. "See you, Harry."

"Yeah…" Harry said, taking Dudley's hand and shaking it. "Maybe. Take care, Dudders."

Dudley nearly smiled, then lumbered back into the house where Harry heard his heavy footfalls on the groaning stairs.

"Well, this is good-bye, then, boy." Uncle Vernon said loudly. He swung his right arm upward to shake Harry's hand, but at the last moment seemed unable to face it, and merely closed his fist and began swinging it backward and forward like a metronome.

Aunt Petunia did not seem to have expected to find herself the last one to make her goodbyes with Harry. Hastily stowing her wet handkerchief into her pocket, she said, "Well — good-bye," and marched back into the doorway of her home without looking at him.

"Good-bye," Harry said with Hermione and Neville standing just a few steps behind him. Petunia stopped and looked back. For a moment, Harry had the strangest feeling that she wanted to say something to him: She gave him an odd, tremulous look and seemed to teeter on the edge of speech, but then, with a little jerk of her head, she bustled back into the house after her husband and son.

Walking back to the plane some distance away, Harry felt a strange sense of accomplishment in the pit of his stomach. It was odd. He didn't want to feel anything regarding the Dursleys. He shouldn't have felt anything… aside from maybe happiness. But accomplishment was different from happiness. He didn't feel happy about leaving the Dursleys, only successful that he had pulled it off. No joy or even a shred of sadness. Just this feeling of… triumph. Harry couldn't exactly explain it, but he felt that he had truly accomplished something by making the Durlseys agree to letting him go—or rather, letting go of him.

It was weird, to say the least.

"Merciful Merlin," Draco bemoaned as he sneered back in the direction of Number Four, "Maybe these muggles aren't exactly animals… But they're still beneath wizards. Perhaps they can be taught proper sense, but observing that circus just now has me in some doubt."

"Yeah," Harry agreed without really thinking about it, "my relatives are just abnormal people. You can't really base the muggle world off of them alone, though. I lost hope in them years ago."

"Then perhaps today has renewed it." Xavier said, but Harry shook his head.

"I think they just didn't want me uprooting their house with that last bit I did in there…" Harry muttered, jamming his hands into his trouser pockets as his school robes tickled at his wrists.

"You should have," Draco said as though it would bring him Christmas early, "it would have served them right."

"I would have also hurt a lot of us, Draco." Harry rolled his eyes, "What with our still being in the house and all."

Harry was surprised when the Malfoy swiftly turned on heel and pointed a well-manicured finger into his chest.

"Why are you being so cordial to me, Potter? I have insulted your family, your muggle living, and all you've done is agree or make light of it! What is your angle here, Potter? Tell me!"

Emerald eyes narrowed as he pushed Malfoy back from being in his face. "You know what? It's not all about you, Draco. I have bigger problems than your ego and petty school grudge that you have against me for… whatever reason."

"How dare you—!" Draco snarled, but Harry got in his face this time, because he had finally taken enough from the blond git.

"No, how dare you!" Harry snapped back hotly, making the Malfoy heir flinch back from him. "I don't understand what you have against me, or even why? Yeah, I didn't become your friend in first year, but you were a complete ass about it and have been ever since. Did it ever occur to you that we could be friends if you just acted like a person!? Instead of being daddy's little puppet for the Hate Harry Potter Parade."

Harry held up a hand, stopping the words as he saw them forming in Draco's mouth. "And before you start, Dumbledore asked me to try getting along with you. You, Hermione, Neville, and Luna when she gets there, will be the only people I will know once we arrive in America. Four people out of a country of folks! I'm trying to make this work, but as usual you decide to be a prat about it all. Dumbledore wants us—wants me—to be a better person. And you know what? I'm tired of dealing with your attitude when all I've done be civil with you, more or less."

"I don't need your pity, Potter!" the blond spat, but Harry was in the right mood to snap back.

He pushed past Draco as he climbed the landing ramp back onto the plane.

"And I don't pity you, Draco!" Harry sneered back, and could see that his use of first names was irritating the Malfoy boy. "I don't believe in pity. It disgusts me to no end. And you don't even deserve my pity."

Draco was silent at Harry, the two staring hard at each other with their blood burning in the veins. At least, that was how Harry felt. Draco looked as though his blood had frozen with how cold and furious his stare was, but Harry had stopped caring. He couldn't spend yet another school with Draco Malfoy hating him for little to no reason. The worst thing Harry had ever done to the blond prat was fling a little mud at him, and even then, it was only after the toerag had insulted Ron and the Weasley family.

Harry collapsed in his seat on the private jet, but was surprised into jumping up a little when Draco actually sat right next to him. Hermione took the other seat on Harry's vacant side, she and Neville having remained silent through all of Harry and Draco's arguing. Neville, now that Harry could understand as Neville was not big on conflict in any form. Hermione, however, didn't look surprised by any of it when Harry chanced a glance at her expression.

And as for Professor Xavier, the man had just wheeled himself onto the plane with Mr. Logan's help. Harry didn't expect him to say or do anything. Not the professor or Logan. The professor probably expected them to work their own problems out while Logan could probably care less if they duked it out or not.

And if Malfoy was feeling up for a tussle, Harry was in the right type of mood to show Harry what growing up with Dudley did for him against people his own size.

"I'm tired, Draco." Harry said with a sigh, not even sure why he was talking at this point. He caught Draco looking at him out the corner of an eye, but Harry didn't care. "Just… tired at this point… Tired of everything that dealt with being here… Being with the Dursleys, going to Hogwarts and dealing with you, dealing with some form of Voldemort issue every year… Rinse and repeat… Year in and year out… I need a break. And I think… I think that's why I'm so calm about uprooting my life here to study aboard in America… I think I need it, or I'll explode and make my life here in England all the worse."

Draco was silent, but Harry didn't expect him to say anything. The blond was squirming in his seat, but Harry was calm with the empty feeling of his rage draining away from him. His stark emotional exhaustion was probably causing Draco more than a little discomfort. "I want a fresh start… All I'm asking for is for you to get off my back… to act like a decent person."

"I am more than a decent person, Potter." Draco sneered.

"Then prove it." Harry sighed, "Until then, we have nothing left to talk about."

The plane jostled as it rose into the sky and took off. Harry held onto his emptiness for a while, closing his eyes even as he half-listened to Xavier about how they would be making a quick stop over at the London airport in order to get their release forms to the right people in the Ministry of Magic.

"I'm going to see Sirius before I leave." Harry said, and felt more than heard Hermione gasp next to him.

"Harry!" Hermione was staring at him with wide eyes.

"That could prove dangerous, Harry." Xavier spoke calmly, probably trying to gauge Harry's thoughts without actively reading his mind.

"I don't even care anymore. I'm taking the time we're in London to see Sirius. In fact… I want to spend my last day here with him." Harry opened his eyes and looked at the professor. "Can we do that? When we land in London, I'm going to do it anyway, but I think the polite thing would be is to at least ask and invite you all in on the day."

"What about—?" Hermione didn't even finish her accusation as her eyes found Draco's grey orbs.

"He won't say anything." Harry knew that much for sure. He would seriously hurt Draco Malfoy before he let anything happen to his godfather.

Draco scoffed, "As if I care about that stain on the Black family name, or whatever sentimental dribble you have to attend to with him."

Then a look passed over Draco's face, "I do, however, wish to see the ancestral Black family home since I've never been inside it before. My mother would like me to at least visit the place once in my life, I'm sure."

Neville nodded his head, though he was still afraid of flying in the plane, so that was the most Harry expected from him. He couldn't really blame Neville. Despite Draco's words, he was still gripping his seat and Harry's index finger very hard while shaking slightly.

"Then I suppose it's settled," Xavier looked as though he liked the way his soon-to-be students came to an agreement without arguing much. "Hank, can you please get us clearance for an extended layover in the London airport."

"As you wish, Professor." Hank's cultured tone floated to them from the front of the plane.

Harry stared out the transparent crystal window of the black jet they were in. They had ascended into the skies again. They streaked through the skies, and therefore back into the rain as Harry saw drops of water drumming hard on the thick glass again. He could hear it pounding away at the great metal bird, deafening. He wondered if Sirius was looking at the same rain as him. He wondered if Sirius wasn't going half out of his mind with boredom in a house he hated.

Harry wondered… if Sirius could go with them. Even as though the crossed his mind, Harry gave it no hope. This wasn't a vacation, and Sirius was still wanted for a crime he didn't commit. Harry gave a great sigh as he slid down in his seat. He would ask about it, but only after he was with Sirius. He wanted more than anything to spend time with his godfather, and hoped beyond hope that Remus was there as well so Harry could have the added happiness of spending his last days with the last of his parents' friends.

"This rain… we'll be delayed by an hour." Hank said from up front. He began flipping switches and turning knobs. "Making adjustments for the weather conditions and delayed landing."

Harry relaxed himself as much as he could. He closed his eyes and breathed deep.

He just… He just wanted to feel that last sense of home before he left to start a new.

Who knows, Harry thought with a small smile, America might change me more than anyone can imagine…

Love it? Hate it?

Leave a REVIEW to let me know!

And if you like this story, and want to see more, just go to my Profile page for other stories I've created over the years.

Hoping this finds everyone well and happy!

See Ya Later, Until Next Time!