Silver Claws and Cat Tails

Abby Ebon

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Disclaimer; I do not own Harry Potter. The X-Men have been around since before I was born, and I am no time traveler – so, no, I don't own that one either.

Note; this, my darling readers is why you mention pairings you would like to see in reviews. See, this is what we call an authoress' "oops, where the hell did you come from"? Well, I can trace the origin of this one to a review I got in, "In A Name", a review by a certain lazycrazykitten who said something along the lines of "right up there with Harry/Logan from X-Men". I think I can also point to my Remus/Remy one-shot bunny. Opps.

This is for you, lazycrazykitten, think of it as a thank-you.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Mutant

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People who talk about growing pains, Harry Potter mused as he curled in a fetal position – bottom lip sucked into his mouth, from which trickles of blood escaped from, have no idea. It was all he could do to stop himself from screaming or going off the deep end and laughing until he died choking on his own blood.

To say he was in pain would have gotten you a kick in the shin a "no duh" look that'd send you to the deepest pit in hell.

Harry didn't quite know why – because he was, after all, distracted by blinding pain – but it felt as if his skin was on fire. In fact – as he curled out of his fetal position long enough to wrap his hands around his shoulders and start to itch – it felt as if something where crawling under his skin.

His skin, in great bloody clumps, started to fall off – and that was when he begun to wonder if he was going to survive whatever was happening to him.

He didn't have time to think anything else as his spine gave a twitch that knocked him breathless onto his back – and he screamed as his spine started to grow out of his ass. Through skin (or was that fur?) – muscle, and blood, finally –blessedly, his spine stopped twitching and growing – and panting sobs filled the air.

The air it's self seemed to twitch in sympathy – but, no – that was his magic. Because he was in pain, and magic was as useless as a freaking piece of glass stuck in his heel – he didn't give a damn if his magic was twanging in sympathy or not – it just coated the air and waited for whatever this was to subside.

Only – it wasn't over – not yet, his ears felt as if someone were yanking on them – pulling them out of his skull. It brought a whimper to his lips and yet more tears. Then, when it passed, it just felt as if everything ached.

As if a final defiance – he felt his thighs tighten, the muscles bunching – the bones shortening, and strengthening in ways he had never thought to use them. The soles of his feet tingled and that was his only warning as pain jolted through him and his feet felt as if they grew, the heel arching – the toes stretching and lengthening in structure – and when he peeled an eye open, he saw they were like a cats hind legs.

In relief, for nothing more seemed to be happening – what else he saw was a mess. There was blood – so much of it really was a wonder he was still alive, and skin – what looked like all his skin. It looked like someone had skinned him. Blinking down at his hands he saw his fingers – webbed together with thick skin, luckily the thumbs were still free…but his nails…they weren't there – just when he was about to panic, five claws sprang from his finger tips. Claws.

What am I? Harry asked himself very seriously when he saw that the thick skin gave way to white fur along his hands, arms – his shoulders were covered with it – and when he reached behind himself to touch his back he found plenty of fur feeling hair there too, and though the fur was sparse along his stomach and groin – it was there too. Harry inhaled when he spotted something twitch out of the corner of his eye. When he looked he found…a tail. He blinked but the long white appendage didn't disappear. He remembered the absolute agony of growing it- but hadn't noticed it until he saw it.

It was then he decided he needed a mirror. A mirror grew out of the wall – as if it had always been there, waiting for him to think of it. Harry saw, reluctantly, the white fur that covered his body – it was shortest along his face, where the fur curved with his features – though his nose and mouth now looked more like a cat's maw. He wasn't wearing his glasses – yet he could see every detail perfectly, as if his vision narrowed in to focus on what he wanted to look at.

His ears were stark white against the wild black of his hair, his eyes were still the brilliant green of his mother's but the pupil was narrow like a cats. He had whiskers.

I'm a cat. Harry thought very carefully – his tail gave an irritated twitch.

A wizards or witches majority – the time when their magic fully manifested and they were able to control not only their core magic but the magic, to some extent, around them. Usually it occurred in their teenage years, until after he had killed Voldemort they had thought he had already gone through it without knowing what it was – then he had been tested and found that he was a very late bloomer. He was nineteen – most reached their magical majority during their Hogwarts years, most of the time the magic in the school quickened it. Harry had found he was "very special" and would therefore be very powerful – to give a estimation of the power he would be able to wield, well there was no 'modern' comparison except to Merlin, who'd reached his majority at eighteen. They'd only told him it would be between Merlin's and a half-god.

And it would hurt. And, likely, he wouldn't want to get out of bed for a week.

They'd gotten that right, but – he was absolutely filthy, and he stank – and blood and skin weren't the greatest things to smell. He wished it would all go away when he wasn't looking. He turned to the bathroom, wondering if he had the will to get up and turn on the water and just lay there until his bones stopped rattling and his muscles stopped aching – but first he'd have to get rid of the mess.

He looked down to find nothing – no blood, no skin – it was as if the whole thing had never happened. Harry took a shuddering breath and reminded himself to be careful about what he thought he wanted or wished or needed. Things had gotten complicated, fast, and he didn't much care for it.

Shakily, he stood – his tail lashing about to keep his balance as he wobbled. Impossibly, his toes took his weight with no protest, it was an odd sensation; like walking on his toes, but different, almost more comfortable – the soles, no pads - of his feet –paws? -were more sensitive, highly alert to the changes in the wood he walked upon and adjusting his weight accordingly with the added help of his tail.

One step at a time, he made it to the bathtub, turned on the water – inhaled, found it too cold, and turned the hot water all the way on. With a last look at the mirror that showed his back, torso, ass, thighs, and legs covered in white fur, he got in, closed his eyes, and rested, determined to relax he'd let Hermione figure out what he'd become.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"Do you know how incredible this is?" Hermione exclaimed upon sitting him down and examining him sometime later. Ron was not helping, he looked amused – and a little embarrassed about how his wife was acting. Not that Harry expected much from him; they'd both known Hermione since Hogwarts and there was no changing her genius or enthusiasm for learning.

"Hermione, he's a bloody cat." Ron said with a roll of his eyes.

"No – not just that; Harry wish for something!" Hermione demanded, and Harry only cringed, her voice was half a yell – and he was right in front of her. Harry glanced down to the floor, wondering what he should wish for. The last few times it had been an accident.

His fur was still damp, for Hermione and Ron had worried for him – the majority was only supposed to last a day and they'd put him next to the biggest magical source they could find on land to quicken his magic. It made most peoples magic flutter to a stop just to be near Stonehenge – even muggles got goose bumps – but Harry barely felt the place, and really couldn't see what was so important about a bunch of stones. Maybe if Hermione could examine them, she'd leave him alone. Nah, she'd probably multitask both.

He wished his fur wasn't damp. Harry looked down to see that it wasn't. Hermione and Ron noticed it too, only Hermione didn't snicker – Ron did. His fur was fluffy.

"S-sorry, mate." Ron said though his chuckles. Harry sighed, he should have known better.

"Well, you could have tried for something else, because I think your magic goes wonky when it concerns doing magic on yourself…but that's it exactly – Harry doesn't need a wand. What Harry wants his magic provides him with – it's fascinating." Hermione gushed; Harry wondered if it was worth finding out if he could still run his fingers through his hair without scalping himself or tearing his hair out. He decided not to risk it.

"But, Hermione – that's the same thing with magical children before they go to Hogwarts – only we call it uncontrolled magic." Ron said in a confused manner, Harry's lips twitched in amusement – now Ron had done it, Hermione was going to lecture him and all Harry was going to do was sit back and watch.

"That's a misconception – wizards and witches have uncontrolled magical bursts through out their lives, usually called by heightened emotions – but it is harnessed and later used in the manner the individual learned in their school. Now imagine an individual who didn't need to so much as whisper a word or flick a wand to have magic leap to do their bidding – and could be perfectly calm while going about it. That is what power Harry has – he'll likely never need a wand again. Merlin referred to it as wild magic – not uncontrolled, yet – somehow, Harry has accomplished what not even Merlin could – harnessing wild magic." Hermione stated waving her hand toward Harry, who felt as if he might blush at the look of awe that hovered about Ron's features.

"B-but, what about the cat-look, what's that got to do with wild magic?" Ron asked then, frowning at the sudden thought – Hermione shrugged, grinning.

"I really don't know, I guess I'll just have to study him to find out." Hermione looked far too enthusiastic about the prospect.

"I'm sitting right here you know, and it's not like you can study me without my permission." Harry stated, amusement glittering in his green eyes when Hermione turned to him with pleading eyes.

"Please, let me? Oh, please, Harry?" Ron gave Harry a look over Hermione's head – a look that plainly said "just agree already!" Harry decided to take Ron's silent advice – it wasn't as if he didn't need her help.

"Fine, fine – just one needle a day though." Harry agreed – he had been kidding, but when Hermione brought out a needle to draw his blood, it was clear she had taken him seriously. Harry let her draw the blood, though he did wonder how many needles Hermione thought she needed in her purse. On second thought – he really didn't want to know.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"Any results?" Harry asked Hermione when she came by the next day, she wore a frown, and when she looked up her expression was very solemn. Ron wasn't with her, and he wondered if that was significant as he led her to sit in the living room, settling down on the chair beside her (he had learned he literally had to sit or lay on the furniture bedding or cushion).

"Harry, you have to know- I ran the tests over and over again, but your blood shows a mutation that is not magically natural or natural at all, not even in muggles..." Hermione began haltingly, nibbling on her bottom lip to read his expression.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked feeling as if he was about to be sick.

"It shows that you are a mutant – it's been in the news recently –especially in the Americas where the X-Men and Brotherhood are…my parents have sent letters, wondering if witches and wizards are mutants by another name – but we aren't; you are somehow magical and a mutant…" Hermione stated softly, watching him with wary eyes.

Am I really so fierce looking that she would fear me? Harry wondered, hurt, but did not speak his fears aloud.

"Ron knows?" Harry asked, even he heard the emptiness in his own tone.

"Yes, he…he…oh, Harry – he's told the Ministry, they are in Council, I nearly couldn't get away to see you as Ron's sent them to watch my house…" Hermione looked away, and Harry would have blind to have not to have seen the tears on her eyes – he had smelt them when she'd walked in.

"A Council…what are they meeting for?" Harry asked, though he suspected – he had to be sure, had to know that what he feared was happening and wasn't just a runaway imagination.

"To decide…if you should be allowed to live – or if you must be killed for the greater good of the whole…" Hermione's voice cracked at the end, and harry found he could not blame her.

"Indeed? Do they think they can make even that choice for me? I will go to the Council." Something in Harry's stomach jolted, and he found himself where he had willed the wild magic to take him – there were gasps, and yells of surprise. No one yet had called out for the guards, but some had wands in hand.

"Magic shall not work here." Harry hissed the demand – so he had declared – so the wild magic obeyed.

"H-Harry, is that you?" Asked one of the men in the Council, slowly, Harry nodded. There was no mistaking his eyes – and the scar on his forehead still marked him as the Boy Who Lived, and his black hair was still a marked feature.

"See – I told you, he has become a mutant monster!" Ron called from the back, his eyes wild, Harry found himself curling his lip in a sneer.

"Is that what all of you truly believe?" Harry demanded of them, snarling the words – none of them looked him in the eye, none of them denied it.

"What right does the lot of you, have to decide if I live or die?" Harry hissed at them, his tail thrashing about like a live thing all on its own. He did was not aware of it but his ears were pressed to his skull, and his claws extended in his fury.

"We are the Council of this magical community, and as a citizen of this community your actions –" Started one of the elders, though he was silenced – choking on his own words, when Harry's attention fixed on him.

"Then I am not a citizen – you call me, the once hero of the magical world – the once Boy Who Lived, a mutant monster. I say – better a monster then a community of cowards!" Harry howled in response, the last words rose to a pitch alike a cat's cry.

"I denounce the magical community – from this day forth, I cut my ties from you – it is my will that my properties, money, and all assets will not be found or touched by any hand but mine or my heir's hands." The wild magic clung to him like a cloak, doing his bidding to make his will so.

"I shall not seek you out – and if you seek me, expect a monsters welcome!" Harry promised softly, then inhaled, breathed in the fear and heard their pulses and hearts beating in terrified random rhythms – it was then that he remembered what Hermione had said.

"…you are a mutant – it's been in the news recently –especially in the Americas where the X-Men and Brotherhood are…"

America, he thought his heart heavy that he would have to leave Hermione – who he felt was still his only friend, I need to go to America. But his choice was made and the Council would not – could not – punish Hermione for his actions now that he had cut ties with them.

Wild magic whirled about him like a tornado, knowing he needed to go to America – and knowing the X-Men and Brotherhood was where his need lingered upon – so wild magic did as it was bid, it was just bad luck Harry ended up in the middle of a fight between the Brotherhood and X-Men.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Notes; well as this idea just sort of sprung up on me…if anyone has got a "mutant" name in mind for Harry, speak - erm – review now. Please?

Notice; In this chapter, on the first day of posting, I wrote the following "As if a final defiance – his knees and legs jolted backwards – and when he peeled an eye open, he saw they were like a cats hind legs." This, the second day of this story's existiance...I would like to scribble that out and write the words "idiot's logic" in bolded and underlined next to that – short of that, I thank the following for bringing my mistake to light, Garnet Avi, Elkrim, and loko-ka; most especially Garnet Avi.

I confess to realizing this with a sudden sickening lurch authors get when they see they've done something horribly, frighteningly, wrong. Akin to writer-sin – I'd screwed up in cats (and mammals in general) biology. -Sobs- I'm so sorry! –whimpers- I was thinking "The Arrival" (movie) when I wrote that, for no real reason other then alien-in-human body had inverted knees (seriously they popped backwards…I think…) had a profound effect on me as a youngling. –Whimpers- can you ever forgive me for driving your INTJ self insane, Garnet Avi?

Short of that, let me reassure you that there is a reasonable, logical explanation for Ron's sudden mood swing, I thank you for any worry you comment on that I am making him "OOC", but, really, give me more then a chapter to explain.