-1A few things before the start of this story…The timeline is no where near that of the canon. Ya, epic fail for me when it comes to that, though I really don't think that is the most important of things in a story.

This is a crossover fic, might be slash, super powers for Harry galore (though plenty struggles), and I would appreciate a review! Though flames might make me cry. Sniffle. Oh ya, lemme just say AU AU AU AU after book five.

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter or the X-men. Duh.

And now without further ado or wasting of your time…

A Wizard's Escape

By Hubristic Chick


Hello there. New to the wizarding world? Hmm, I can help you there. Here is a quick summary of what you need to know to survive.

The most important thing, in my opinion, is to know that the wizarding world is a corrupt, fickle, intolerant, and immature society. Quite frighteningly so, in all of these assessments.

What? You expected to be taught spells and how to pull off a pointy hat and sparkly robes?

Let's make a few things clear. Today's society has watered down Magic to a more easily digestible practice.

European wizards have even limited themselves to Latin as the only language for their spells, and wands for basic magical tools.

Simply shameful.

In recent years, there have been wars fought over blood of all things. Purebloods seek to stake their claim as the undisputed royalty of the wizarding world. Half-Bloods and Muggleborn are cast into shadow.

Beings with Magic woven into their very souls are ostracized as Dark. The werewolves of mundane legend, the vampires of ancient lore, even the Faerie Folk, are all, to the wizarding world, less than people.

And don't get me started on the views about mundane people of the world. Amused tolerance at best with an unhealthy dash of ignorance to pure hatred based in fear of the unknown, of what could, perhaps, be more powerful.

At the moment, the second of the Blood Wars is over. The crazed terrorist Tom Marvolo Riddle, intent on nothing but murder of those deemed unfit and his own immortality, was defeated by his nemesis, the man known by as the Light's finest Warrior. Harry James Potter.

Never heard of him have you? Hmm, consider yourself notified of his Greatness.

Currently celebrated not only as the Hero of the Century by Wizard's Now, but also the richest man in Britain by Gringotts Monthly, hottest wizard by Teen Witch, and, well, you get the idea.

He is the number one figure of the times, politically, socially, and magically.

But like I said the wizarding world is corrupt, fickle, intolerant, and immature.

You'll see, by reading the headlines, hearing the gossip, and watching the Ministry, how even the name of their proclaimed Hero will be cast into shadow and fear.

For the most terrifying of creatures will soon come to the attention of the wizarding world; mundanes who are not so mundane. Mundanes who lack a magical core and yet have powers never seen before.

Those who can move objects with their minds alone, those who can steal your life force with a touch; those who could control the very earth and those who create fireworks of energy with hands alone.

They are not magic. They are not mundane. They are mutant.

And Harry James Potter is one of them…

Chapter One

July 30, 2003 London, England

"Mr. Potter," sneered a deep voice. A sallow countenance poked its head into the darkened library of the gloomy, hidden mansion at Number 12 Grimmauld.

The voice repeated itself, with more venom present at having to repeat its statement.

"Mr. Potter!"

A shuffle sounded in the muted library. It was a shadowy room, cramped and stuffed with books. In the center was a wooden desk, chair, and lamp. Papers and books covered every scrap of bare space. The chair was empty.

The owner of the sneering voice stepped into the library fully and his sneer turned into a baring of teeth, nearly a growl.

"Mr. Potter, it is my displeasure to inform you on behalf of your insistent and annoying house elves, that you have missed the last 12 meals they have prepared."

A figure moved in a corner.

"I assure you I did not trek to this part of Britain to play the part of caretaker," continued the man, searching the room for the young man, dark eyes betraying anxiousness that his voice kept secret.

A deeper, darker voice finally answered. "Severus."

Another movement and suddenly the shadows were chased away by magic and Severus Snape could see for the first time the face of his former student.

Long, unkempt black hair spilled over his shoulders with two thick strands framing a too pale face. Green eyes were unfocused and a frightening lime green.

Severus drew a quick breath. "Harry…."

A thin collarbone poked from a white muggle button down shirt and black jeans bagged over sharp hips.

The light green eyes darkened and focused as they looked at the man, the lithe body leaning upon a wall of books. White glinted in his hair and heavy shadows dominated his face, the hollows of his face thrown into sharp relief by the magical light.

"What brings you here Severus?"

The Potion's Master looked at him, glare acidic.

"I wonder. Nearly a month with nary a word from the still recovering Man-Who-Lived, neither to the his friends nor…"

Harry's face had twisted at the last. "My friends are dead!" He had not moved but his arms clutched convulsively at his chest and his eyes flashed the unfocused, frightening lime before returning to angry emerald.

Snape didn't soften outwardly but his heart ached. Ah, Lily, your son suffers so.

After Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts and the subsequent rising of the Dark Lord, the Boy-Who-Lived had been thrown into a world of non-stop training. Magic, weaponry, strategy, anything that cold make him a better fighter. He had been told the prophecy and while he had been scared, he was also determined, determined not to allow Voldemort gain victory over the wizarding world.

There would not be, Harry promised himself, another Cedric, another victim to die as Harry watched, helpless.

He was naïve.


The Harry of a year later was taller, tougher, and smarter. He had been pulled from Hogwarts to tour the world and learn from the best magical duelers, warriors, and assassins. Dumbledore called upon numerous contemporaries and friends, many of whom were eager to aid their old friend. Upon meeting Harry however, they found themselves wanting to help the lad, whose heart was pure and strong, to survive. And the temptation to bestow their knowledge upon the incredibly gifted teen was too much to withstand.

After his fifteenth birthday, Harry's powers had grown immensely. At only the earliest years of his life, his connection to magic was unparalleled. He felt it, not as tool but as a nearly sentient power. It obeyed him without spells and gifted him with extraordinary potential as a fighter.

However, as wonderful as connections and potential are, practice and application are the more difficult to obtain.

The tutors Harry had put him through hell- treks through jungles and desert, wasteland and tundra to help him learn survival- in magical and mundane ways. Encounters with strange creatures taught him about when to defend himself and when to learn from others. Long hours were spent in libraries, books piled high around him. Duels and skirmishes with Dark Wizards were his testing grounds and his knowledge grew in leaps and bounds. How to kill, how to heal, how to protect, how to scout out enemies…

In his fifth year, nearly 10 months after his instruction had began, Voldemort made a move against the Light that would prove to be the first of many devastating attacks.

Death Eaters had surrounded the Burrow and set it to fire.

The Floo network had been shut through a subtly placed minion in the Ministry and anti-apparation wards were set up around the property. A few muttered Accios had taken care of the emergency portkeys the Weasely's had possessed.

Now as most wizards were wont to do, the Weasley's had warded their home against flame. But the Death Eaters had a spell of Black Magic, that sent waves of fire through a target and burned only human flesh. Freeze Fire charms were useless.

Caught within their home that day were Arthur, Molly, Ron, and Percy. Each perished before the Order of the Phoenix could arrive. By the time Moody and Kingsley made it through the anti-apparation wards, the Death Eaters were gone and the Dark Mark hovered above the Burrow.

When Harry heard of the news he did not scream, nor cry, nor anything one might expect to see in boy deprived of his foster parents and brothers. He became very still.

His mentor of the moment, an elderly wizard he had spent a month with already in Africa learning Battle Magic, had tried to comfort him. But he did nothing but sit very still, unblinking, in a hard wooden chair, for hours. Thoughts ran through his mind but he did not react to any of them. He just sat.

The next day he threw himself into training with a ferocity that worried his mentor. He still did not cry nor speak.

Three days later, the day of the funeral for the Weasley's, Harry apparated to Hogwarts.

Cloaked, he joined those grieving silently, looking briefly around. Hermione stood with her parents and Ginny, pale faced and red eyed. Ginny looked lost. The only reason she was alive was Hermione's invitation to go shopping in Muggle London the day of the attack. Now, Hermione's parents had taken guardianship of her until she reached 18.

The twins stood with Charlie and Bill. They had nearly reached their majority in the magical world and had been staying with Charlie for the summer. They were also white, their faces strained in a way that was previously impossible for the carefree jokers. Charlie and Bill were stony, composed for their brothers and sister, but emotionally unreachable.

Harry looked on and in his heart, whipped himself for believing he could protect his family. The sharpest wound was the death of his best friend, his brother. It had been a cruel and bitter way to die- as bad as a whispered 'kill the spare' and streak of green light.

It was now that he lost the part of him that believed everything would be all right. Nothing would be all right, nothing could be after this day.

The only thing to do, as he saw it, was end Voldemort as quickly as possible.

He left without a word to Hermione or anyone else, returning to Africa to once again train.

The next time he was to return to Hogwarts was after his sixteenth birthday. He had sent letters to Hermione during the time that passed, giving her all the love and support he could. She understood his reasoning for staying away, she wrote, her pen often wobbly and paper tear stained, and gave all her love and friendship in return. His other connections to the wizarding world were hazier Remus and Sirius had their own missions and with Harry's training, there was little chance for Harry to see either of them.

It's better this way Harry repeated to himself. He didn't want attract attention to them or anyone else. He held the Ron and his parents and brother's deaths upon his head, along with the Dursley's who had been murdered shortly after They had been abusive sons of bitches but death was not what he would have wished for them.

I'm a danger to love, to even know…


Voldemort had resumed his terrorist attacks against the world and Harry tried to track his movements through visions he received through his scar.

Occlumency, though he had mastered the art sometime in his fifth year, was useless as the connection to the mad man was bound through his soul. He raced to meet the attacks he could predict, fighting alongside aurors and order members, perpetually cloaked and mysterious to other wizards.

In yet another crippling attack, Voldemort had raided Diagon Alley, seeking to destroy and demoralize.

The order was there to meet the Death Eaters and, lurking in the shadows, Harry fought with the guerilla-like strategy he had picked up from vets in Cuba. Death wasn't something he minded dealing out to the bastards he had been forced to observe having fun through his visions.

The forces of both Light and Dark seemed equally matched, with curses flying from wand to wand. Then Voldemort decided to get creative.

A whispered chant later and the Hell Hounds of the Sidhe were summoned.

After that it was a massacre.

The order tried to fight back but the beasts were intangible, drawing close to bite and maul the wizards and then disappear to the next victim. Their bite was deadly. Sharp teeth, poisonous saliva, powerful jaws insured painful death. Of the order members, Remus and Sirius were killed within minutes. Harry had turned from subduing a random Death Eater just in time to see the werewolf fall beside his lifelong friend.

Harry, in the midst of battle, once more became very still. Within moments though, his stillness was broken.

A scream tore through the Alley, inhumane and agonized.

With eyes a bright, lime green, Harry pulled upon his magic to complete a wordless, wandless spell of command.

The Hell Hounds stopped as one and looking to the curious creature who had called them with such grief and rage within his heart, waited his command.

"Kill the Dark Ones," Harry grated out, sending a mental picture of the hooded, masked wizards, "And I will return you to your realm. Refuse and perish."

The massacre then turned tides, as the remaining Death Eaters were summarily slaughtered by blood thirsty hounds eager to please the powerful mage.

At the end of the battle, hundreds of bodies littered the Alley, Death Eater, civilian, Auror, and order members alike.

Harry had commanded the hounds back to the Sidhe and carefully gathered the bodies of his two parental figures with magic. He took them to Godric's Hollow and laid them to rest, quietly and alone, his heart numb, before returning to Hogwarts. He then curtly informed an astonished and grieved Dumbledore of his actions and apparated out of Hogwarts without waiting for a response. If there had been any restraints on his magic before, they were demolished today.

Voldemort had fled the last battle and was now more cautious after having seen the absolute command Harry had had over his summoned creatures. There were still attacks but as before, Harry swept into battle, a magical powerhouse, and now, they were fewer. His identity had been found out though, for better or worse by those at the Battle of Diagon Alley and he was heralded by the wizarding world as a hero more loudly than ever before.

But when he was not in battle, he returned to his grueling training. His eyes had no life in them and his world narrowed to only study and fighting.

By the end what would have been his seventh year, he was a machine- loaded with spells and skills that those many years older than him would never achieve and those his age should never have need for.

He returned to Hogwarts to meet with the Headmaster, having news of an attack or plan of some sort that had been brooding within the twisted mind of Voldemort for months. Dumbledore convinced the weary young man to reside at Hogwarts until what Voldemort was planning became clearer. He stayed there until his eighteenth birthday, studiously avoiding former friends and training in the dungeons with Snape of all people. They developed a tentative friendship that blossomed into a more trusting one.

The two bantered and researched together like old chums; partially due to Harry's new found maturity and respect for the former spy, who had been found out and forced to remain within the castle walls for the past two years for safety, a band of magic subduing the malevolence in his traitorous Dark Mark.

Together, they waited for what was to come. Harry was tense most of the time but the acerbic wit of the other man and his endless patience with being cooped up eased some of his worries. Harry Potter was a different man now, colder and harder to read, battle scarred in both his heart and body. This was a man Severus Snape could respect. Still the long hours pent up within the castle were difficult to bear. Voldemort had been quite for too long, his Death Eaters immobile.

One night, a particularly fierce vision accosted Harry. It left him panting and screaming, tangleed in his blankets and covered with sweat. This was NOT what he had expected from Voldemort at this point in the war.

Hermione, his last friend, his sister, had been captured.



I'm going to leave it there for now. Evil Cackle.

The X-men stuff should come in the next chapter or so. This is not a Harry/Severus fic but I wanted them to have an established relationship as good friends.

Coming up soon….Harry and Hermione torture ahead… What made Harry into the shell he is earlier in this chapter? Also, the end of the second Blood War and soon… Harry's mutation!