"Knock knock."
The sound on the door broke the moment of silence between Harry and Felicia.
Felicia frowned, lifting her head from Harry's chest, and pouted in dissatisfaction toward the door.
"Sir, Miss Hardy," Old Al opened the door and walked in, nodding politely.
"What is it, Al?" Harry smiled, patted the sulking Felicia on the shoulder, and let her go. He turned toward the old butler, who stood at the door, hesitant to come in.
"There are guests, sir. They say they're here to see you, and… they don't look like ordinary people." Old Al hesitated, then added with a slight pause.
"Not ordinary people, hmm? Treat them well. I'll come down right away. My wound has already healed — no need to worry," Harry instructed calmly. He then added a few gentle words to reassure Old Al, who had served the Osborn family for nearly forty years.
Although Harry was no longer the same person as before, he could never sever his ties completely — especially not with the man who had given half his life to the Osborne family.
"Yes, sir." Old Al bowed and withdrew.
Harry picked up the neatly folded suit from the cabinet and, with Felicia's help, dressed himself.
"Not bad," Harry said, admiring his reflection in the old wooden-framed mirror. The suit fit him perfectly, and his confident, sunny smile added the final touch. He turned a few times and nodded approvingly.
"Harry looks good in anything," Felicia said with a gentle smile, straightening his slightly crooked tie.
"Ah, that's exactly what my mother used to say. You're starting to sound like her," Harry teased lightly, his tone playful as he tried to make Felicia laugh.
"Hehe." Felicia covered her mouth and laughed softly.
"Come on then," she said, giving his chest a light pat before heading out first.
Harry chuckled and followed after her.
Through the long hallway and around a corner, he came to the stairs.
"Mr. Osborn."
Before Harry could get a good look at his visitors, a voice called his name. It was clearly a woman's — soft and warm, but carrying a hint of deep, restrained coldness beneath the tone.
"Oh, such a beautiful voice. I don't recall ever hearing one like that," Harry said lightly. His gaze fell on the woman who had spoken.
She was tall, strikingly beautiful — her figure as graceful as Felicia's — with crimson hair that added a touch of allure. Yet her cool expression and faint, polite smile contrasted sharply with what Harry had imagined her temperament to be. The contrast made her even more fascinating.
"Hello, beautiful lady. I'm Harry Osborn," he said, extending his hand with a charming smile as he approached.
"Hello."
Before the woman could respond, a man with a serious face and visor-like glasses stepped in between them, taking Harry's outstretched hand.
"Well, hello," Harry said, slightly amused by the interruption. He didn't mind the man's rudeness, though he did wish his grip wasn't quite so forceful.
"So," Harry said, withdrawing his hand and sitting casually on the living room sofa. He picked up a red apple from the fruit tray Old Al had brought in. "What brings the three of you here?"
"Do you know who we are?" The third visitor, a tall, dark-skinned woman with white hair and keen eyes, spoke up for the first time. Her voice carried quiet authority.
"Of course," Harry said matter-of-factly, taking a loud bite of the apple. "Crunch."
"Huh?" The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly doubtful. The others frowned slightly, waiting for him to explain.
"That lady," Harry said, gesturing toward the redhead, "looked quite different before. Though she's still beautiful now, I preferred your more elegant look — just like Felicia." He turned toward Felicia and gave her a teasing grin.
"What do you think, Dr. Jean Grey, Mr. Scott Summers… and of course, Miss Ororo Munroe, the Storm Goddess?" Harry said, listing their names with a playful ease.
As he spoke, the familiar translucent system screen appeared before him, unseen by anyone else. Quietly, Harry pulled up the trio's data.
Name: Jean Grey
Age: 25
Physical Condition: Healthy (Mental state unstable)
Abilities: Telepathy (40 → 80, suppressed), Telekinesis (30), Phoenix Force (100)
Items: None
Name: Scott Summers
Age: 28
Physical Condition: Healthy
Ability: Optic Blast (60)
Item: Adjustable Quartz Visor (10)
Name: Ororo Munroe
Age: 24
Physical Condition: Healthy
Ability: Weather Control (60)
Items: None
Harry smiled to himself, pleased. As expected, in the Marvel world, mutants were walking treasures of power. Just meeting them gave him access to such immense potential. Before the invention of the mutant cure and the Sentinel program, mutants were practically gods.
"Haha, I think so too," Storm said, exchanging a look with Jean Grey and smiling faintly. Jean, a little embarrassed, said nothing.
Cyclops, however, remained stone-faced, his body positioned between Harry and Jean — his stance alone making his disapproval clear.
"Alright, let's focus," Felicia said, cutting in before Harry could get any more sidetracked.
"Yes, Miss Secretary." Harry put down the half-eaten apple, coughed twice, and composed himself.
"So, tell me why you're here. I'm listening," he said, gesturing toward Scott, clearly recognizing him as the team's leader.
"Our visit concerns Senator Kell, who recently went missing," Scott began in his steady, serious tone. "According to our information, he was captured by Magneto, and now he's here."
"Your teacher told you that, didn't he?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes," Scott replied after a short pause, frowning slightly.
"I see. So you're here to take Senator Kelly away, right?" Harry said immediately, understanding their purpose the moment the name was mentioned.
After all, even if Magneto had captured Kelly, Magneto was still a mutant — and Kelly was a vocal supporter of the Mutant Registration Act. His disappearance would only heighten the hatred between humans and mutants, undoing everything the X-Men had worked for.
No matter what, the moderate faction couldn't allow that to happen.
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A/N: Advanced Chapters Have Been Uploaded On My Patreon
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