"Harold Potter, you are charged with First Degree Murder, Conspiracy to Assassinate the Minister of Magic, and thirty-seven separate violations of the Muggle Secrecy Act. How do you plead?" Albus Dumbledore, one of the light's greatest champions and up until the week before, one of Harry's most loyal friends, questioned him with a grim face and noticeable absence of the familiar twinkle in his eyes.

Harry, with his jaw set firm, looked him straight in the eyes. "Innocent."

A wave of murmuring broke out across the courtroom, shocked and scandalized voices protesting his claim.

The headmaster let out a disappointed sigh, looking down at his lap, before raising his head again. "Very well" he spoke very softly, almost too softly as the people in the room were about to start screaming for his blood. "SILENCE!" he roared, and the crowd quieted immediately. "This room will stay silent or no one will be allowed to remain. Do I make myself clear?" Harry, personally, thought that it was a rhetorical question. No one would dare argue.

Harry looked over to the side of the room, finding the Weasleys sitting with faces utterly devoid of the affection they had once felt for him. In particular, Mrs. Weasley, Ron, and Ginny were wearing masks of utmost hatred.

He didn't even know how any of this happened in the first place. The last thing he remembered before waking in a holding cell somewhere in the bowels of the ministry, was going downstairs at the Dursley's home to begin making breakfast. A sharp blow to the back of his head, and falling down the stairs. He didn't remember reaching the bottom....

He now finds out that a week had past since that morning, and is now being charged with murdering Cornelius Fudge, the prior Minister, and attempting to murder Arthur Weasley, the current one. Not only that, but it seems as though not a single soul believed him innocent.

Somewhere, in the space of his mind that housed sarcasm, spoke a voice. 'Well, it certainly fits the pattern, does it not? Every two years the world turns against you, and every two years it is a higher percentage of the population that does. Second year? Half the school thought him to be the Heir of Slytherin. Fourth Year? Three quarters of the school thought him to be an attention seeking braggart. Now its Sixth year, and it seems as though everyone else had turned.'

Harry hardly paid attention to the trial. Unlike in the muggle world, if you could not afford or obtain a lawyer, you were not given one. No, you had to defend yourself. Witness after witness approached, including Hermione and the six Weasleys present (Molly, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny), and testified the validity of the claims under Veritaserum, along with various other witches and wizards Harry did not recognize. The only people who might have been able to support Harry's claims of not doing it, were the Dursleys, and as they were muggles they were not allowed to testify. There was a bit about how Harry's wand under 'Priori Incantem' held the shadow of the attempt on Minister Weasley's life, and that Harry couldn't testify for himself under Veritaserum since he was able to resist Imperio, and would also be able to resist the truth potion as well.

In short, Harry never stood a chance.

Albus asked for him to rise, as did all the members of the Wizengamot. "Harold James Potter. You are hereby found guilty of all charges. Were it not for the fact that you are underage, the Dementor's Kiss would be the only punishment suitable for these crimes. As it stands, you are to serve twelve consecutive life sentences in Azkaban, five for the murder, four for the attempted murder, and one for the secrecy violations. Do you have anything to say before your sentence is carried out?"

Harry looked once more to the Weasleys, who were still glaring at him, then back to Dumbledore's stern visage. "I hope, that one day, you will all see your mistakes for what they are. I hope, that on that day, you come back, begging me to save you all, once again. On that day, I will happily tell you to go fuck yourself, and that you've made your bed and can now die in your sleep there."

Gasps and thunderous cries of vengeance roared up in the chamber. After snapping Harry's wand which made a small glitter of red and gold sparks emerge from the crevice, Dumbledore merely shooed his hands twice, which apparently meant for the Aurors to take him away. One grabbed him under his arm on his right, while another did the same on his left. With his ankles and wrists shackled together, they more or less had to carry him out to transport to the wizard's prison. Harry kept his head bowed, not willing to believe that the people he had considered family had turned on him, betrayed him.

"STOP!" he heard the voice of Ginny. His heart soared! Perhaps she wouldn't let them take him! YES! Perhaps she just needed to think things through. The guards stopped, and turned him around to where a slender girl's feet where standing in front of him. He raised his eyes, hopeful that she would put and end to this madness. What he saw instead was a hand come down across his face, cutting with her nails as she completed the movement running a deep cut down the side of his face. It began at the outer edge of his eye and continuing half way down his cheek, quickly beginning to ooze large amounts of viscous blood. Before she could inflict further damage, however, or before her brothers and mother could continue the job, the Aurors lifted him once again and quickly made their way to the transport carriage.

The ride to the boating dock that would eventually lead to the feared island prison was a dreadful one. Tears brimmed his eyes, but would not fall as he thought about the betrayal by those he had loved. It was just like the wizarding world to turn their backs on him, but it was quite another for his two best friends and the people he considered family to do so as well. The emotion kept building inside of him, making his heart pound harder and faster, and his vision to blur...

When they arrived at the dock, six of the Aurors came and unshackled his ankles, then lifted him out of the back of the carriage. The formed a ring around him, with the ones on his left and right placing a firm grip on his arms guiding him towards the small rowboat. He chanced a look up and saw the massive walls of the prison on an island in the distance, and could feel the cold bite of the dementor's effects all the way from where he stood. He broke down and collapsed onto his knees with the pent up emotion exploding out of him with a painful sob and subsequent wretch. He briefly wondered why they weren't picking him up, until he looked up and saw the two Aurors in front of him on their knees, with their backs arched out, as a mist rose off through their skin. The more mist that spread from their skin, the more they dried out, withering them slightly until they passed out. A quick look around confirmed that all six had fallen unconscious.

The mist collected into streams as it neared Harry, merging with the rain falling around him. Only then did he realize that the mist was being pulled towards him from the very start, and the collected water spun around his kneeling form as a conical spiral, before he blinked and it all collapsed to the ground with a splash. Horrified at what just happened, he quickly got up from his knees, feeling lightheaded with an accompanying pounding headache. He pulled the robe from the no longer conscious Auror, and did a quick inventory check after pulling it on. He now had the man's wand, a few galleons and sickles, and a ridiculous looking steepled wizard's hat. He quickly trudged away from the gruesome scene, and after a few hours, decided it was safe to call the Knight Bus.

Pulling the hat down low, so as to cover his lightning bolt scar, he raised the wand in a hail, and nothing happened. He tried again, and still, nothing happened. Cursing under his breath, he realized that since it wasn't his wand, therefore it wouldn't work properly, and he also had no options left. He was a wanted criminal in the wizarding world, and had no suitable clothing or money for the muggle side.

Taking a few steps into the spattering of trees alongside the road, he quickly reached a clearing. He sat down heavily on a large log, a mere skeleton of the tree it originated from. Staring at the puddle in the center of the clearing, he pulled the too-large robe tighter around him, trying to starve off the chill from walking in the rain for hours.

He tried to find an option, but as each one came to his mind, it was cancelled out. He could go back to the Dursley's, but not only was the house probably being watched, that was where all this trouble began in the first place. He could try to hitchhike to London, but in his current state of malnutrition, he probably couldn't defend himself if someone he hitched a ride from wanted.... Something Else. He could owl Gringotts for money and information on an estate that he probably owned, but Hedwig wasn't anywhere around, and even if she were, she probably would be tracked. 'She does rather stick out', he mused.

His wondering was cut short as a twig broke from behind and slightly to the left of where he sat. He jumped up and turned around with wide eyes, but he was too exhausted to run, and with his hands still shackled together, he probably couldn't defend himself properly. Of all the people he expected to walk through the trees, however, a pair of muggle women never crossed his mind.

He took a moment to gauge them. The one on the left was an astonishingly attractive woman, with white hair, blue eyes, and black skin. A silver bodysuit with a black cape connected to her wrists made her stand out even more. The woman on the right had a similar bodysuit, except this one was green and she had an unbuttoned denim jacket instead of a cape. She had fiery red hair, and if it weren't for the fact that this woman's eyes were blue instead of green, he could almost have mistaken her for his mother. That fact alone was probably the only reason he wasn't trying to run yet.

"Hello there," the red-haired one said. "My name is Jean, and this is Ororo. What are you doing out here all alone?" She spoke without a hint of malice, and obviously could tell he was scared and therefore trying to calm him down.

Harry didn't reply, only took a few staggered steps backwards, still regarding the duo with wide eyes.

The simply sat down, Jean on a large rock and Ororo on the log he had vacated. They made no move to come after him, and Harry felt himself relax just a bit more.

"I think I know what you're going through, I went though it myself when my gift awakened." Ororo said, looking at him sympathetically.

"G-Gift?" Harry stuttered, not knowing what in the nine hells this woman was talking about.

"Perhaps a demonstration is in order, Storm?" Jean said, her eyebrows raised in query.

Ororo, or Storm as Jean called her, stood, and looked to the sky where it was still raining, although the rain had diminished to only a light drizzle. Harry watched in awe as the irises in her eyes clouded over to where they were as white as her hair, and the rain stopped. Harry looked up towards the sky, and was similarly amazed to see the clouds roll back a bit, showing the blue sky hidden from behind directly over their clearing.

"Brilliant..." he breathed. "But I don't think you have the right person ma'am. I don't have any 'gift'."

"Are you sure that nothing exceptionally weird has happened in the last couple of hours to you? Perhaps at a time of heightened emotions?"

Harry actually took a few moments to think about it, his mind was racing with so much, so much... The Aurors! When they collapsed! The shock must have written on his face because the women took that as an affirmative.

"You are a mutant, and we are from a school that will teach you control over your gift. You are not obliged to come, but you will be accepted there, and treated as an equal. Would you like to come?"

Harry stared down at his hands, contemplating the choice. Realizing that he really didn't have any other options, he saw that the decision was already made for him.

He looked up at each of them in the eye, trying to sense for any deception. Seeing none, he let out the breath he didn't realize he had been holding, and nodded his affirmation.

"So, what's your name anyway?" Jean asked.

"Harry, Harry Potter."

"Well then Harry, we need to get you back to the school, that is one heck of a cut on your face." She made a grimace at the pain it must be causing.

Harry, who had many, many years ago become accustomed to pain, raised a shocked hand up to his face to touch the wound. This was where the women became aware of the handcuffs he was now sporting. Seeing their wide eyes at his handcuffs, he tired to act nonchalant about it, shrugging and saying, "It's a VERY, very long story." The other two seemed to accept this, and Jean narrowed her eyes at the manacles before they unlatched with a surprisingly loud 'CLICK' before falling to the ground.

"Your gift?" he asked the flame haired one. "One of them," she mysteriously replied. "Come with us, the Jet is over this way," she said before gesturing with her head behind her. Without another word, the two turned around and began walking through the wood, parallel with the road.

Harry noticed that neither lady seemed to think it was dangerous to turn their backs on him, and if they would offer him that level of trust after finding him in the middle of the woods handcuffed of all things, then he would try to learn to trust them as well. Trust was a thing abused by too many in Harry's life, and freely giving it out wasn't something that he was prepared to do anymore. He would, however, try.

"So Harry," Jean turned around from the co-pilot seat in the X-jet to talk to him. "How exactly did you wind up in the middle of the countryside in handcuffs and that..... interesting attire?"

Harry leaned back from where he had been watching the blue water of the Atlantic Ocean from the window to look at her. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather only tell this story once. I am sure that the Headmaster of your school will want to hear it also, wouldn't he?"

"Good point, God knows I hate telling the same story over and over. So how old are you anyway?"

"I turn sixteen at the end of this month."

"Oh! so you should be a Sophomore this year, what classes do you take at school?" She asked excitedly.

Harry grimaced. That was something he hadn't thought of. While he may be outstanding in Defense against the Dark Arts, and decently good at Charms, as far as muggle education went he hadn't even finished primary.

"Ah, that's part of the long story. You called Ororo Storm, earlier, didn't you? What was that all about?"

"Hmmm, I shouldn't have let that slip, You'll soon find out from Professor Xavier, I imagine."

"Who's that?"

"The headmaster, Harry. Oh, and before I forget, we are both teachers at the school, so you should probably be calling us by our last names. Ororo here, is Ms. Munroe, and you can call me Dr. Grey or Dr. Summers. I'll answer to either."

Harry nodded, assimilating the information when the movement of the jet began to change. He hadn't noticed it, but they were now descending vertically into a hanger, which closed overhead. Harry, who had for the better part of the last five years lived in a castle, was in wonder at all of the technology.

He was interrupted from his musings by a voice calling to him. "Come on Harry, you have to meet the professor, and then we can get that cut taken care of, okay?" Jean asked with a smile.

Jean herself was wondering why she had taken such a liking to this new kid. Something about him just screamed 'take care of me', yet something else told her that anyone would be lucky to have this intriguing young man at his or her respective back in a fight. One thing was for sure though, between those eyes, the scars, the hair (once he had taken that ridiculous hat off) and his accent, he was going to be beating the girls of with a stick.

They made their way to the Professor's office without interruption, and they walked in without even knocking. When Harry had heard about Professor Xavier, he imagined something akin to what Professor Dumbledore looked like. He didn't expect an entirely bald man in a wheelchair with something in his eyes that spoke volumes about his intelligence and character.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, I'm so glad you could come. He wheeled to a stop in front of Harry and held out his hand for a shake. Harry numbly took it, too many questions running around in his head had shut down most of his higher consciousness. "Ms. Grey has told me you have quite a long story to tell, involving a pointy hat and handcuffs?"

Harry cringed at these words and pulled back a bit. It was certainly a painful life, and not an easy one to tell either. However, he didn't hear Jean relay anything and he had been within earshot of her since they met. "How....." he began, but stopped when he heard a voice in his head.

// Not all gifts are as flashy as controlling the weather, Mr. Potter. //

"It seems as though it would be a painful story to tell, right?" he continued out loud. Harry nodded numbly once again. "Have a seat, please."

Harry sat down roughly, not breaking eye contact with Xavier. Had it not been for Jean's telekinetic shove of a chair a few feet behind him, he may have ended up sitting on the floor.

"If it would make it easier, I can read your memories. You would have to really open up and trust me for that, however. I will promise you that I will not divulge any information I may acquire without your approval."

Harry mulled it over a bit, before deciding that he would rather not tell the story aloud, (even he had trouble believing it at times, and he had experienced it), and more than that, his heart was screaming at him to trust these people.

"Okay Professor, what do I have to do?" he asked, barely more than a whisper.

"Just close your eyes and relax Harry, try to bring up the relevant memories, In chronological order if you can."

Harry nodded, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath letting it out slowly.

// Whenever you are ready, Harry. // Xavier's voice sounded in his head.

Memories began to flash across the inside of Harry's eyelids.


The night Voldemort killed his parents

Ten years of living in a cupboard under the stairs

Hagrid, and his introduction to the magical world.

Finding out he is famous, and hating it.

Going after the Sorcerer's Stone.


Flying the car to Hogwarts.

Everyone thinking he was the Heir of Slytherin.

Hermione getting petrified.

Fighting the Basilisk.

Blowing up his 'Aunt' Marge

Professor Lupin teaching him the Patronus charm.

Sirius Black.

Using the time turner to save Buckbeak and Sirus.

The Quidditch World Cup.

Being chosen as a champion in the Triwizard Tournament.

The hate he received from the school for said participation.

The First task, against the Dragon.

The Second task, waiting to make sure that everyone was saved from the lake.

The Third task, and getting Cedric to take the cup with him.

"Kill the Spare...."

Voldemort's rebirth.

The connection of the wands.

Getting Cedric's body back to Hogwarts.

'I will not tell lies' written into the back of his hand.

The D.A.

The Department of Mysteries.

Going to make breakfast, and getting knocked out.

The trial.

Ginny clawing him.

The Aurors collapsing.

Jean and Ororo approaching him.


The connection was broken, and Harry drew in a staggered breath, wiping the tears away from his eyes while blinking furiously.

When his vision was finally clear, he readjusted his glasses and looked up hopefully at Xavier. Xavier was staring at him with a small amount of awe, and a large amount of respect. He seemed to snap out of it quickly though.

"Well Mr. Potter..... Harry.... You are welcome to stay as long as you could possibly want. I look forward to meeting with you again to discuss your schooling, but some things are more important. Jean, I believe that Harry would like to get that cut taken care of, then perhaps a meal, a tour, and some sleep? It has been a very trying day for him, I'm afraid."

"Of course, Professor. Come on Harry, lets go to the medical ward." Harry rose, and with a second worried glance to Xavier, he followed in the woman's wake.

Charles Xavier turned to Storm, offering her a small smile. "That boy walked in here an X-man."