Author's Note: Hey! Okay, I've got to say that I'm not so good with X-Men, I mean, I like the movies, and I've read about… none of the comics. But hey, that's me. The stories are based around the films of X-Men and the books of Harry Potter. It's set just after fifth year, and the Ellis Island incident.

I know there are a lot of fanfic's about this kinda thing, but keep with me, I hope to bring something great to this story.

Just so you know, and don't get freaked out when my good friend, Harry, turns a bit dark. Well, I say a bit, I mean a lot, but I'll let you read it!

I don't own X-Men or Harry Potter; they belong to Marvel, Warner Bros. and J.K. Rowling and maybe some other people.

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The Basilisk lunged again, and this time its aim was true. Harry threw his whole weight behind the sword and as he drove it into the roof of the great serpent, he felt a sharp pain in between his knuckles and three long, white claws also shot into the King of Serpents.

But as blood drenched Harry's arms, he felt a searing pain just above his elbow. One long, poisonous fang was sinking deeper and deeper into his arm and it splintered as the Basilisk keeled over sideways and fell, twitching, to the floor.

Harry slid down the wall. He gripped the fang that was spreading poison through his body and wrenched it out of his arm. But he knew it was too late. White-hot pain spreading slowly and steadily from his wound. Even as he dropped the fang and watched his own blood soaking his robes, his vision went foggy. The Chamber was dissolving in a whirl of colour.

A patch of scarlet swam past him and heard the soft clatter of claws beside him.

"Fawkes," said Harry thickly. "You were brilliant, Fawkes…" He felt the bird lay its beautiful head on the spot where the serpent's fang had pierced him.

The scene had replayed in his mind over and over again since that fateful day. Fawkes the Phoenix had saved his life by healing his wound with his tears. Before Harry had been allowed to leave the hospital wing, he'd asked Madam Pomfrey to do a blood test. The outcome was surprising to say the least.

Madam Pomfrey had first given him his blood type, which was a spell created by Madam Pomfrey herself for all the Muggleborns in the school. Then, she had said that it was altered from the last time she had checked, which was in his first year. And finally she almost jumped out of her skin when she found the next bit – Harry had two, confronting miasma's that had altered his blood slightly. On one side was a venom, trying to poison his entire being, and on the other, an antidote, trying to stop the venom, but at the same time heal all cuts, bruises, broken bones, anything really. It was truly amazing. Madam Pomfrey had asked about it, but Harry just said he didn't know. That was a lie of course, but nobody needed to know that.

That was the first of the three things running through his mind at the moment. The second was his healing powers that had manifested after that fateful day. They had been tested out when Harry had returned from his fifth year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Vernon had beaten him to near death after the 'warning', as he called it.

During that time, Harry had broken four of his ribs, his right forearm, his right leg, and a fracture in his skull and had healed it within half an hour.

The beatings had continued day, after day, after day, and finally they began to heal almost as soon as they were made. This made Vernon smirk each day as he thought how much pain he could bring the 'freak'.

As of now, Harry was locked in his room, completely alone. The bars had been put around his windows again and Hedwig had been going completely crazy.

The Order had done nothing to help and they had made Harry promise to write at least every three days, and even though he hadn't written, nobody had came. At first, Harry had just thought they must be incredibly busy that they couldn't write, but not even Ron or Hermione had bothered sending any letters.

Harry beginning to doubt they would ever come.

That's when Vernon came.

"Freak," He growled. "You are no longer welcome in this room. You're going back to your cupboard."

Grabbing Harry by the collar, Vernon dragged the teen downstairs and threw him into the open cupboard. Harry whacked his head against the wall of the cupboard when he was thrown into it. He had to scrunch up into a ball just to fit in. Harry heard the lock click on the door and sighed. He hated the Dursleys with a passion.

Hate and anger were the last things he felt before he passed out from the little oxygen in the tiny cupboard.


Harry woke up to find himself stuffed inside of the trunk of Vernon's new car and through the small gap between the seats, Harry could see that it was night-time, most likely the middle of the night.

Harry started to panic and the only thing to do was try to break out. The banging in the boot alerted Vernon that Harry was awake and he growled.

"Shut up freak, its time to leave." Vernon started laughing menacingly.

The car stopped and Harry heard two doors open and close and when the trunk opened, Harry tried to escape, only to be kept back by a giant fist slamming into his stomach.

"You're not going anywhere, freak." Said Dudley, dragging Harry out of the trunk and taking him to a point in the middle of nowhere.

"Here'll do, Duds, drop him." Dudley nodded and dropped Harry, just as Vernon threw a shovel at his feet. "Did, freak."

Immediately, Harry knew what was going to happen – he was digging his own grave. A threat Vernon had made several times before was coming true. Quickly, he took in his surroundings. The middle of nowhere, forest surrounding him completely – if he ever did survive this, he wouldn't be able to go anywhere. Unless, of course, he Apparated, but you needed a licence to do that and he had never Apparated before.

Harry's eyes flashed hope for a moment, as he remembered when he'd found himself on the school roof for no reason at all. Had he apparated then? All he wanted was to be safe and far away from Dudley, somewhere where he couldn't be reached. That willpower had sent him to the roof, maybe if he willed himself away he would be able to?

But where would he go? He couldn't go to Grimmauld Place – too many bad memories – he couldn't go to Hogwarts – Hermione had told him about the Anti-Apparation wards around the castle – he certainly couldn't go to the Weasley's – if Hogwarts had wards, the Burrow certainly would as well, after all, their eldest son was a cursebreaker!

Harry didn't know where else he could go and began to sweat with anxiousness as he picked up the shovel and started to dig.

After almost three hours of digging, Vernon finally told him to stop. Harry began to cry. He was going to die.

"You've been a burden to me all your life. And now that burden will finally be lifted." He took out a semi-automatic pistol and handed it to Dudley. "Son, this will be a great lesson for you. I fought in the Falkland Wars, your grandfather fought in the Second World War, his father fought in the First World War. It'll be your turn soon, but you have to have the guts to kill a man. Well, freak in this case."

Harry began to cry harder now. "No! Please," he begged. "Please, Dudley, Uncle Vernon. Please!"

Vernon smirked and told Dudley to squeeze the trigger, don't pull it.

Harry began to cry harder and harder, begging for Dudley not to do it. Dudley looked frightened, but tried to put on a brave face as he squeezed the trigger.

The bullet shot from the gun and hit Harry straight between the eyes. Harry slumped into the grave, his eyes rolling back into his head, his tongue lolling from his mouth. Dudley was horrified, but with the words of praise from his father, he began to laugh with him as they pilled the dirt onto Harry's body.

The soil had just reached Harry's neck when Vernon watched in horror as the wound from the bullet began to close. Six, long, bone white claws emerged from the dirt and suddenly launched themselves into Dudley Dursley's fat neck. Blood gushed from the wound and Dudley's enormous body fell to the ground.

Vernon began to stutter. "No! I-I-it can't be! Y-you should b-be d-dead!"

As he walked backwards to try and get away from the freak in front of him, he fell on to his giant rump and tried to grasp for the gun, lying only a few feet away from him.

An evil smirk fluttered across Harry's face and he wiggled one of his fingers menacingly, only just noticing the long claws in between his knuckles. "Ah, ah, ahh, Uncle,"

With a quick downward slash, the arm reaching for the gun was swiftly cut of at the elbow. Retracting the claws, Harry grabbed hold of Vernon's flabby neck and pushed him up against a tree. One claw slid from his hand and pierced the side of Vernon's neck. Then a second one. Then a third.

"I'm going to let you bleed to death, uncle, for everything you've done to me."

Dropping his uncle, Harry stabbed each leg and the arm remaining and the fat man's chest, before taking the Vernon's car keys.

Once Harry reached the car, he put the keys in the ignition and tried to start it. After Kangaroo hopping the car four times, he finally got it into first and slowly began to drive away. He'd seen his uncle drive cars a thousand times and mimicked his movements exactly.

Harry only made it ten metres before passing out at the wheel and almost driving the car into a ditch. A cloaked stranger pushed Harry off the wheel and into the passenger seat before dragging the car from the ditch and driving away into the night.