# Xavier's Institute - The Common Room
The common room they entered next was designed with the kind of thoughtful attention to social dynamics that suggested years of experience managing teenage mutants with varying comfort levels around their abilities and each other. Comfortable furniture was arranged in clusters that encouraged conversation while providing enough space for students who needed personal distance. Large windows overlooked the grounds, letting in natural light that made the space feel open rather than enclosed. A corner entertainment area featured what appeared to be both mundane technology and specialized equipment whose purpose Harry couldn't immediately identify.
What struck him most forcefully, however, was the sheer diversity of the students gathered there—not just in terms of physical appearance or ability manifestation, but in the way they carried themselves, the obvious comfort they felt in their own skin despite differences that would have made them outcasts in conventional settings.
Scott, who had been quietly observing Harry and Hermione's conversation with Jean while maintaining a respectful distance, now stepped forward with the easy authority of someone accustomed to making introductions and facilitating social connections.
"Right then," he said, his voice carrying across the room with practiced ease, "everyone, we've got two new students joining us. Harry Potter—Fyreclaw—and Hermione Granger—Mnemosyne. They've just arrived from England and could use a proper welcome."
The response was immediate and enthusiastically chaotic in the way that only teenagers genuinely excited about new arrivals could manage. Students who had been scattered across various activities converged with varying degrees of speed and enthusiasm, though Harry noted with appreciation that no one actually crowded them or made the approach feel threatening.
The first to reach them was a young man who appeared in a literal puff of sulfurous smoke about three feet in front of Harry with theatrical timing that suggested considerable practice. He was roughly Harry's apparent age, with distinctive indigo-blue skin, pointed ears, and a prehensile tail that curved behind him with obvious expressiveness. His golden eyes held mischief and warmth in equal measure, and when he grinned, it revealed slightly pointed canines that completed an appearance that was simultaneously demonic and somehow endearing.
"Guten tag!" he said with enthusiasm that was entirely genuine, his German accent lending musical quality to his English. "Kurt Wagner, though everyone calls me Nightcrawler for obvious reasons." He gestured at himself with theatrical flourish, clearly comfortable with his distinctive appearance. "Welcome to Xavier's! You must be exhausted from international travel—I remember my first arrival, completely disoriented and convinced I had teleported to the wrong continent entirely."
His tail wrapped around itself in what Harry would learn was a nervous habit, though Kurt's expression remained cheerfully welcoming. "Your flight was smoother than mine, I hope? I came via commercial airline and spent the entire journey terrified I would accidentally teleport mid-flight and cause international incident."
Harry found himself immediately charmed by Kurt's self-deprecating humor and obvious comfort with abilities that would have made most people deeply uncomfortable. "The flight was actually quite smooth, thanks to Storm's piloting. And I have to say, your entrance was considerably more dramatic than mine. Very impressive timing."
"Years of practice," Kurt replied with obvious pride. "Professor Xavier says I have a flair for the theatrical. I consider it essential survival skill—if you cannot laugh at yourself, what is the point of having abilities that make you look like you escaped from Gothic cathedral?"
Before Harry could respond, a second figure approached with considerably more stealth than Kurt's dramatic arrival—a young woman who seemed to materialize from the shadows near the entertainment area with the kind of fluid grace that suggested either trained movement or natural ability. She was petite, perhaps thirteen or fourteen, with brown hair that fell in a distinctive white streak from her forehead and sharp brown eyes that assessed newcomers with obvious intelligence.
She wore long sleeves despite the warm afternoon, and kept a careful distance that suggested either natural reserve or deliberate caution about physical contact. When she spoke, her voice carried a distinctive Southern accent that was somehow both soft and clearly audible.
"Rogue," she said simply, not offering to shake hands—a choice Harry would understand the significance of later. "Welcome to Xavier's. Don't let Kurt's enthusiasm overwhelm you. He means well, but he's got the volume control of a marching band and the personal space awareness of an overeager puppy."
"I resent that characterization!" Kurt protested with theatrical indignation. "I have excellent personal space awareness. I simply choose to ignore it in favor of enthusiastic welcome!"
"Case in point," Rogue replied dryly, though her expression held obvious affection for Kurt's antics.
A third student approached—another young woman, this one radiating confidence and style that seemed almost aggressive in its polish. She was tall, blonde, with striking blue eyes and an expression that suggested she was accustomed to being the most sophisticated person in any room. Her clothes were obviously expensive, her posture was perfect, and everything about her screamed "private school aristocrat who knows exactly how impressive she is."
"Emma Frost," she announced, her voice carrying the kind of aristocratic polish that made Harry's own accent sound positively common by comparison. "Code name still under consideration because everything obvious has already been claimed by students with considerably less imagination than I possess."
She extended her hand to Harry with the kind of formal courtesy that belonged in diplomatic receptions, and when he accepted the gesture, her grip was firm without being aggressive. "Charming to meet you, Fyreclaw. That's actually quite a sophisticated choice—classical reference with practical application. Much better than the superhero names most students choose."
Her blue eyes shifted to Hermione with assessment that was clearly evaluating both appearance and bearing. "And Mnemosyne. Greek goddess of memory. How wonderfully pretentious in the best possible way. We're going to get along famously."
Hermione bristled slightly at the characterization, though her voice remained carefully polite. "I prefer to think of it as intellectually appropriate rather than pretentious."
"Same thing, really," Emma replied with a smile that was equal parts charming and dangerous, "but said with more conviction. I approve."
A fourth figure materialized beside Emma with considerably less attitude but no less presence—a young woman with short brown hair and an expression that suggested both shyness and determination in equal measure. She was perhaps Harry's age, casually dressed, and possessed the kind of understated prettiness that belonged to someone who didn't spend much time thinking about her appearance.
"Kitty Pryde," she said, offering her hand with a warm smile that reached her eyes. "Code name Shadowcat, though that's mainly for field exercises. Don't let Emma intimidate you—she's much nicer than she pretends to be, she just has a reputation to maintain."
"I am exactly as nice as I appear to be," Emma corrected with dignity. "Which is to say, selectively kind to people who interest me and efficiently dismissive of those who don't."
"See?" Kitty said with obvious affection despite Emma's declaration. "Much nicer than she pretends."
A fifth student approached with considerably more swagger than the others—a young man roughly Harry's age with distinctive auburn hair, unusual red-on-black eyes, and a New Orleans accent so thick it seemed almost affected. He moved with the kind of controlled grace that suggested either trained combat skills or natural athletic ability, and his smile held the promise of mischief barely contained.
"Remy Lebeau," he said, his accent turning the simple introduction into something that sounded vaguely musical. "They call me Gambit, though why anyone thought that was appropriate codename for someone with my particular talents remains mysterious."
He produced what appeared to be a playing card from nowhere—literally, as far as Harry could tell—and made it dance across his knuckles with casual skill. The card glowed faintly pink, suggesting whatever his abilities were, they involved more than simple sleight of hand.
"Welcome to the circus, mon ami. You got interesting abilities, non? The way Jean was describing them during afternoon training—phoenix fire and retractable claws? That's the kind of combination that makes tactical planning very interesting."
A sixth figure approached with considerably less confidence than Remy's swagger—a young man who appeared to be the youngest of the group gathered, perhaps thirteen or fourteen, with distinctive features that suggested he was still growing into his appearance. His skin had an unusual texture that suggested scales or armor plating beneath normal flesh, and he moved with the careful awareness of someone still adjusting to recent physical changes.
"Evan Daniels," he said, his voice carrying notes of both nervousness and determination. "Code name Spyke. I, uh, generate bone spikes from my body. Which sounds more aggressive than it actually is in practice—mostly I just have to be careful about hugging people and wearing shirts that don't accommodate sudden bone growth."
His self-deprecating humor was clearly defensive rather than comfortable, suggesting someone who hadn't quite achieved Kurt's ease with unusual physical manifestations.
A seventh student emerged from the entertainment area where she'd apparently been engaged with some kind of video game—a young woman with distinctive Asian features, short dark hair, and an expression that suggested perpetual enthusiasm barely contained. She wore what appeared to be a yellow jacket that had seen better days, and her entire manner radiated energy that seemed almost exhausting just to witness.
"Jubilation Lee," she announced with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for carnival barkers, "but everyone calls me Jubilee because Jubilation is apparently what my parents thought was appropriate for a child who would grow up to generate explosive plasma bursts. I make fireworks! Well, technically I generate plasmoid energy bursts with explosive and pyrotechnic properties, but 'fireworks' sounds much more fun."
She bounced on her toes with barely contained energy. "Your phoenix fire sounds amazing! We should totally practice together sometime—compare notes on optimal combustion temperatures and aesthetic flame patterns!"
The final student approached with considerably more gravitas than Jubilee's enthusiasm—a young man who stood nearly six and a half feet tall with a build that suggested either extensive athletic training or natural physical enhancement. He was clearly of Russian descent, with dark hair, strong features, and an expression that held both gentleness and strength in equal measure.
When he spoke, his English carried a thick Russian accent that suggested either recent arrival or deliberate preservation of native speech patterns. "Piotr Rasputin," he said, his deep voice carrying notes of warmth despite the heavy accent. "Friends call me Colossus because when I use my abilities, I transform into organic steel. Makes me very strong, very durable, but also very heavy and somewhat limited in fine motor control."
He offered his hand to Harry with careful gentleness that suggested someone aware of their own strength and conscientious about not causing unintentional harm. "Jean mentioned you will be my roommate? I hope this is acceptable arrangement. I try to be considerate about noise and space, though occasional nightmares sometimes cause unexpected transformation that can be... startling to witness."
Harry accepted the handshake, noting the careful control Piotr maintained despite hands that could probably crush steel when transformed. "That sounds perfectly acceptable. Fair warning—I occasionally manifest phoenix fire in my sleep if I'm having particularly vivid dreams, so we'll both be dealing with unexpected nocturnal transformations."
Piotr's expression brightened with obvious relief. "Then perhaps we balance each other. Fire and steel—very traditional combination, yes?"
Jean had been watching this introduction process with the satisfaction of someone whose organizational skills had created exactly the kind of welcoming environment she'd intended. Now she stepped forward to provide context and connection.
"Right then," she said with warm authority, "now that everyone's been introduced, let me provide some practical information about how living arrangements work here. Harry, as Piotr mentioned, you'll be rooming with him. Hermione, you'll be sharing with me—I hope that's acceptable? Professor Xavier thought it would be helpful for both new students to room with someone who could help with orientation and answer questions as they arise."
"That sounds wonderful," Hermione replied with genuine warmth, clearly pleased by the arrangement. "Thank you for being willing to take on that responsibility."
"It's honestly my pleasure," Jean said with obvious sincerity. "I remember how overwhelming my first few weeks here were—having someone who could explain the unwritten rules and social dynamics made all the difference."
Scott stepped forward with the kind of organizational efficiency that suggested extensive experience with orientation logistics. "Living arrangements are actually quite flexible here. Rooms are assigned based on ability compatibility, personality assessments, and practical considerations like sleep schedules and noise tolerance. If something isn't working after a few weeks, we can always adjust."
He gestured toward the hallway that led deeper into the residential wing. "The dormitory areas are organized by age and year rather than ability type—Professor Xavier believes that diversity in living spaces helps students learn to work with different kinds of powers rather than just focusing on people with similar abilities."
"Which means," Kurt added with obvious enthusiasm, "that you get to experience maximum chaos during morning routines when everyone is trying to use shared bathroom facilities while managing their various transformations, teleportations, and explosive tendencies."
"It builds character," Rogue observed dryly. "And teaches you to develop morning routines that don't require extensive bathroom time."
Emma's expression suggested she found the entire concept of shared facilities somewhat distasteful but was too polite—or too strategic—to complain about institutional arrangements. "The facilities are actually quite adequate once you adjust to the... communal aspects. And the rooms themselves are surprisingly spacious."
"Plus," Kitty added with the kind of practical enthusiasm that suggested she had spent considerable time helping new students settle in, "the Institute has excellent soundproofing, privacy protocols, and security systems. Your personal space is genuinely private—no one enters without permission except in absolute emergencies."
Remy's red-on-black eyes held amusement as he studied Harry's expression. "You look like you're processing considerable amount of information, mon ami. Don't worry—it's overwhelming for first few days, then becomes normal very quickly. By next week, you'll be explaining everything to newer students and wondering how you ever found it confusing."
Evan nodded in agreement, his earlier nervousness fading as he grew more comfortable with the conversation. "That's exactly what happened to me. First three days I was completely lost—couldn't find classrooms, accidentally set off security systems, thought I'd never figure out the training schedule. By the end of the first week, I was helping other new students navigate and wondering what had seemed so complicated."
Jubilee bounced forward with enthusiasm that suggested she had been waiting for appropriate moment to interject. "The best part is that everyone here gets it. Everyone's been the new student, everyone remembers being overwhelmed and confused. So people are genuinely helpful rather than just politely tolerant."
Piotr's deep voice carried warmth that suggested genuine care for community wellbeing. "This is true. Xavier's is special because students support each other rather than compete. We succeed together or fail together—individual advancement means nothing if community suffers."
Harry found himself genuinely moved by the obvious affection and loyalty these students felt for each other and for the Institution they called home. There was none of the competitive edge he'd experienced at Hogwarts, none of the house rivalries or social hierarchies that had made his first years at magical school occasionally isolating despite his friendships.
"This is... quite different from what I expected," he admitted, his voice carrying genuine appreciation. "Thank you all for being so welcoming. I'm sure Hermione and I will have approximately a thousand questions over the next few days."
"Please do ask," Jean said warmly. "Seriously—any question, any concern, any confusion about how things work. We're here to help, and there are literally no stupid questions when you're navigating a completely new environment."
Scott nodded in agreement. "And if you're not comfortable asking students, any of the faculty are available for consultation. Professor Xavier, Storm, Dr. McCoy—they're all genuinely committed to helping students succeed both academically and personally."
Emma's expression held something that might have been genuine kindness beneath her usual sophisticated polish. "Though if you want advice about handling social politics or understanding the unwritten hierarchies, I'm considerably more informative than the faculty. They mean well, but they're not always aware of student-level dynamics."
"Translation," Kitty said with obvious affection, "Emma knows all the gossip and will happily provide strategic guidance if you ask nicely and don't judge her for being thoroughly informed about everyone's business."
"I prefer 'comprehensively aware of social dynamics,'" Emma corrected with dignity.
The common room had gradually filled with more students as word spread about the new arrivals, though Harry noticed that everyone maintained respectful distance rather than crowding forward. There was genuine curiosity in their expressions, but it was tempered by obvious consideration for the fact that new students might be overwhelmed by too much attention too quickly.
"Right then," Jean said with the kind of gentle authority that suggested she was very good at managing group dynamics, "I think that's probably enough introductions for one afternoon. Would you two like to see your actual rooms? Get settled, unpack, maybe rest before dinner?"
Harry glanced at Hermione, noting the slight tension in her shoulders that suggested she was reaching the limits of her social energy despite maintaining perfect composure. "That sounds perfect, actually. It's been quite a day."
"Understatement," Hermione agreed with feeling. "Between the emotional farewell, the international flight, and approximately seventeen significant revelations, I think I've reached my capacity for processing new information today."
Kurt's tail curled with obvious sympathy. "Completely understandable. Your rooms are this way—we'll show you, help you get settled, then leave you in peace to process everything at your own speed."
As they moved toward the residential wing, Harry found himself genuinely excited about what lay ahead despite his exhaustion. These students—his new classmates, potentially his new friends—felt like people he could genuinely connect with. People who understood what it meant to be different, powerful, and still learning to navigate the complicated intersection of extraordinary abilities and ordinary human needs.
Whatever challenges awaited in the months ahead, he would face them as part of a community that valued both individual excellence and collective support.
—
# Xavier's Institute - The Residential Wing
The residential wing revealed itself to be considerably more intimate than the grand public spaces they had toured earlier. Polished hardwood floors muffled their footsteps, and warm lighting created an atmosphere that felt more like a well-appointed boarding house than an institutional facility. Doors lined both sides of the corridor, each bearing small nameplates and the occasional personal decoration that suggested students were encouraged to make these spaces genuinely their own.
Jean led the way with practiced ease, pointing out relevant landmarks as they walked. "Bathrooms are at both ends of each corridor—co-ed but with individual stalls and shower facilities that lock. The laundry room is in the basement with machines that are free to use but require signing up for time slots because everyone inevitably decides to do laundry on Sunday nights."
"Kitchen access is twenty-four hours," Scott added from behind them, "though if you're cooking after ten PM, you're expected to clean up immediately and keep noise to a minimum. The main dining hall serves three meals daily, but there are always sandwich supplies and fruit available if you miss scheduled times or need snacks between meals."
They stopped at a door midway down the corridor, and Jean knocked softly before opening it to reveal a surprisingly spacious room that somehow managed to feel both institutional and comfortable simultaneously. Two beds occupied opposite walls, each with its own desk, wardrobe, and bookshelf. Large windows looked out over the grounds, currently showing the golden light of late afternoon painting the landscape in warm tones.
One side of the room was clearly already occupied—Piotr's space, Harry assumed, noting the neat organization, the small collection of books in what appeared to be Russian, and several sketches pinned to the wall that showed considerable artistic talent. The other side waited empty but welcoming, ready to be claimed and personalized.
"Your luggage should arrive shortly," Jean explained, settling onto the edge of one of the beds with casual ease. "The faculty will have it brought up from the aircraft once Storm and Logan finish the post-flight checks."
Piotr moved to his side of the room with the careful awareness of someone conscious of their size in confined spaces. "I hope arrangement is acceptable," he said, his deep voice carrying genuine concern. "I try to be good roommate—quiet, respectful of personal space, helpful when needed but not intrusive."
Harry found himself genuinely charmed by the big Russian's earnest consideration. "I'm sure it'll be fine. And honestly, after years of living in a cupboard under the stairs followed by sharing a dormitory with Ron Weasley—who snores like a congested dragon—I'm not particularly difficult to please regarding living arrangements."
The casual mention of his childhood circumstances created a moment of surprised silence, broken by Emma's carefully controlled voice. "A cupboard under the stairs? That seems like an unusual living arrangement even by non-mutant standards."
Harry shrugged with the kind of practiced casualness that came from years of deflecting uncomfortable questions about his upbringing. "My relatives weren't particularly thrilled about having a magical child in their household. They coped by pretending I didn't exist unless absolutely necessary. The cupboard was small, but it was mine, which was more than I had before Hogwarts."
Hermione's expression showed the familiar flash of protective anger she always displayed when Harry's childhood came up in conversation, but she remained tactfully silent, recognizing that this wasn't the moment for detailed discussion of the Dursleys' failures as guardians.
Remy's red-on-black eyes held understanding that suggested his own childhood hadn't been particularly conventional. "Families can be complicated, non? But you found better ones—friends, teachers, people who saw what you were worth rather than what made them uncomfortable."
"Exactly," Harry agreed, grateful for the tactful redirection. "And I'm hoping Xavier's will provide similar opportunities for building chosen family rather than just managing biological obligations."
Kurt's tail curved with obvious approval of this philosophy. "Xavier's is excellent for chosen family building. Many of us come from situations where our biological families struggled to accept our mutations. Here, we find people who understand what it means to be different and choose to care anyway."
Jean stood and moved toward the door, clearly recognizing that Harry might want time to process and settle before continuing orientation activities. "Why don't I show Hermione her room, then we can all meet back in the common area before dinner? That gives you both time to unpack, rest, maybe process everything that's happened today."
"That sounds perfect," Hermione said with obvious relief, following Jean toward the door. But she paused at the threshold to look back at Harry, her amber eyes holding concern mixed with affection. "You'll be all right?"
"I'll be fine," Harry assured her with a smile that was mostly genuine. "Go get settled. We'll compare notes at dinner and probably discover we've both been overthinking everything."
As most of the group prepared to follow Jean and Hermione to the other wing, Evan lingered near the doorway with the kind of nervous energy that suggested he wanted to ask something but wasn't sure how to approach the subject. His distinctive scaled texture caught the afternoon light as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.
"Hey, Harry?" he said finally, his voice carrying the careful tone of someone trying not to overstep boundaries. "Can I ask about your bone claws? I mean, I generate bone spikes too, and I was wondering... how do you manage the pain when they emerge? Because for me it's still really uncomfortable even after months of practice."
Harry considered the question thoughtfully, recognizing genuine concern rather than mere curiosity. "It hurt considerably at first—like having your bones ripped through your skin from the inside, which is basically what's happening. But the healing factor that came with my mutation makes it manageable now. The wounds seal almost immediately, so it's more uncomfortable than actually painful."
Remy leaned against the doorframe with obvious interest. "Your healing factor—that's similar to Logan's abilities, non? The rapid regeneration, the bone claws, even the berserker tendencies Jean mentioned from your initial manifestation. That's remarkable genetic coincidence."
Several of the students exchanged glances that suggested they were thinking the same thing but hadn't wanted to voice it directly. Kurt's golden eyes held curiosity mixed with careful consideration of how to phrase potentially sensitive questions.
"It is not coincidence," Piotr said quietly, his accented English carrying certainty. "Such specific combination of abilities—this does not occur randomly. There is connection, yes?"
Harry found himself at a decision point. He could deflect, could maintain privacy about recently discovered family connections, could wait until he felt more comfortable with these new classmates before revealing information that felt deeply personal. But something about the genuine curiosity and obvious lack of judgment in their expressions made honesty feel like the right choice.
"It's not coincidence," he confirmed, his voice steady despite the emotional weight of what he was revealing. "Logan is my grandfather. We only discovered the connection a few days ago—neither of us knew until recently that we were related. My mother was his biological daughter, though she was raised by someone else and never knew her true parentage."
The silence that followed was profound but not uncomfortable. Harry could see his classmates processing this information, connecting dots, understanding implications without needing detailed explanation.
Emma recovered first, her sophisticated composure intact but her blue eyes showing genuine surprise. "That explains the similar manifestation patterns and the timing of Logan's involvement in your arrival. Family connections tend to influence how abilities develop, particularly when the genetic markers are strong."
"Also explains why Logan looked like someone had punched him in the chest when he stepped off of the Blackbird," Kitty observed with characteristic directness. "We all noticed he was acting weird around the new students, but nobody wanted to say anything because, well, Logan doesn't exactly encourage personal questions about his emotional state."
Kurt's expression showed understanding and sympathy in equal measure. "To discover family after believing yourself alone—this is precious gift, yes? Even when complicated by circumstances and timing."
"It is," Harry agreed, feeling some of the tension he'd been carrying about this revelation begin to ease. "Especially when that family member understands what it's like to have abilities that most people find disturbing or dangerous. Logan gets it in ways that most people can't."
Remy's smile held genuine warmth beneath his usual swagger. "Family built on understanding rather than obligation—that's the best kind, mon ami. Blood relation just makes it official."
Evan's expression showed relief mixed with renewed curiosity. "So when you said the healing factor makes the bone emergence manageable—you mean it's still uncomfortable, but you heal too fast for it to cause lasting damage?"
"Exactly," Harry confirmed, grateful for the return to practical questions. "The initial emergence hurt like hell, but now it's more like... intense pressure and discomfort that's gone within seconds. The healing factor doesn't eliminate the sensation, but it significantly reduces the duration."
"That's what I was hoping," Evan said, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Professor Xavier said my bone generation would become easier as I developed better control, but I wasn't sure if 'easier' meant 'less painful' or just 'more manageable discomfort.'"
Piotr nodded with obvious empathy. "My transformation into metal form was extremely painful at first. Now is only uncomfortable pressure, like you describe. Bodies adapt to regular stress, become more efficient at managing transformation process."
Scott, who had been listening to this exchange with the careful attention of someone cataloging information for future reference, finally spoke up. "Harry, does Logan know you're being this open about your relationship? I only ask because he's typically very private about personal connections, and I want to make sure we're not creating complications for you both by spreading information he'd prefer to keep quiet."
Harry appreciated the thoughtful question and the obvious concern for everyone's wellbeing it represented. "Logan was present when I told Hermione and the other students on our flight, and he didn't object. I think he's still processing the whole 'having family' revelation, but he's not trying to keep it secret. More like... he's not sure how to talk about it yet."
"Understandable," Jean's voice came from the doorway, where she had apparently paused after settling Hermione in her own room. "Logan spent decades believing he had no family, no connections to anyone. Discovering he has a grandson—especially one as remarkable as you're turning out to be—that's going to take some adjustment time."
Her green eyes held warmth and understanding. "But I think you'll find that Logan's protective instincts are already engaged, whether he's comfortable admitting it or not. You've gained not just a grandfather but someone who would move mountains to keep you safe."
Harry felt unexpected emotion tighten his chest at the certainty in Jean's voice. "I'm still getting used to the idea of having family who actually wants me around. It's... different. Good different, but different."
"You'll adjust," Emma said with pragmatic certainty. "And in the meantime, you've got an entire Institute full of people who are essentially operating as one large, dysfunctional, occasionally explosive chosen family. We're excellent practice for navigating complicated relationships."
"She's not wrong," Kitty agreed with a laugh. "Between the various power interactions, personality conflicts, and general teenage drama, Xavier's is basically a laboratory for learning to maintain relationships despite challenging circumstances."
Kurt's tail curved with obvious amusement. "Plus, having Logan as grandfather means you have excellent source of stories about historical adventures and questionable life choices. The man has lived through considerable amount of interesting times and will probably share them if you ask correctly."
"Or incorrectly," Remy added with a grin. "Logan is remarkably forthcoming about his past when he's in right mood and has appropriate audience. Ask him about World War Two sometime—the official history and his personal experience differ considerably in entertaining ways."
The conversation was interrupted by a soft knock on the door, followed by Storm's musical voice. "Harry? Your luggage has arrived. May we bring it in?"
"Of course," Harry called, and moments later Storm entered followed by Logan carrying Harry's trunks with casual ease that suggested their considerable weight was barely noticeable to his enhanced strength.
Logan set the luggage down carefully, then straightened to study the assembled students with an expression that suggested he'd heard at least some of their recent conversation. His weathered features showed approval mixed with something that might have been paternal pride, though he'd probably deny it if directly challenged.
"So you've already told them," he observed, his rough voice carrying no judgment. "Good. Secrets are exhausting, and this bunch would have figured it out eventually anyway."
He moved to stand beside Harry with casual ease that suggested comfort with proximity despite his usual preference for personal space. "Kid's right about what he told you. We only found out about the family connection a few days ago. Still figuring out what it means, how to navigate it, all that complicated emotional territory I'm exceptionally bad at handling."
His hazel eyes swept across the gathered students with unmistakable affection despite his gruff tone. "But I want you all to know—Harry's not just another student here. He's family. My family. And while I expect you to treat him the same as everyone else, I also expect you to have his back if he needs it. Because that's what family does, and you're all family whether you signed up for it or not."
The declaration was so unexpected, so uncharacteristically emotional coming from Logan, that several students looked genuinely surprised. But the surprise quickly gave way to understanding and acceptance.
"We've got his back," Scott said with quiet certainty. "Same as we've got each other's backs. That's how Xavier's works."
"Good," Logan said with obvious satisfaction. "Then we understand each other."
He turned to Harry with an expression that might have been described as awkward affection if Logan had been capable of such things. "You settling in all right? Room acceptable? Piotr treating you properly?"
"Everything's perfect," Harry assured him, recognizing that Logan's gruff questions represented genuine concern expressed in the only way the man knew how. "Piotr's been wonderful, everyone's been welcoming, and I'm genuinely excited about starting training tomorrow."
"Training starts at oh-eight-hundred," Logan confirmed. "Breakfast at oh-seven-hundred in the main dining hall. Don't be late—Storm gets testy when students miss meals, and testy Storm involves uncomfortable lectures about nutrition and responsible self-care."
"I resent that characterization," Storm said with dignity, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. "I provide concerned guidance about maintaining proper health standards. There are no lectures, merely strongly worded suggestions delivered with appropriate gravitas."
"Right," Logan replied with obvious skepticism. "Strongly worded suggestions that somehow feel exactly like lectures. My mistake."
The easy banter between the faculty members created an atmosphere that felt more like family than institution, and Harry found himself genuinely grateful to be part of this community. Whatever challenges lay ahead, he would face them with people who understood what it meant to be different, powerful, and still learning to navigate the complicated intersection of extraordinary abilities and ordinary human needs.
---
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