Onto the story. First chapter mostly credited to Omni Black

Disclaimer: don't own X-men or Harry potter

Magi Evolution

Chapter 1: Breaking point

Harry walked into the evening sun, dragging his trunk and following his 'family' to the car. A new one, Harry noted with some disgust. His uncle always had to have to best care he could afford, well generally he could not afford them, but he got them anyway. Have to keep up with appearances and all. He had just come from his fifth, and if he was asked, his worst year at Hogwarts. Being ignored by one of the few people who had shown kindness to him had affected him greatly, not to mention being forced to sit through the torture, err, lessons from that bastard Snape. And worse, he had lost Sirius… He shook his head harshly at the thought; he could not break down in front of them. He'd never hear the end of it.

They made their way to the car quickly, possibly faster then Harry could ever remember. The reason was evident though. Vernon was practically glowing an ashy white while his ears were a radiant red. Harry had only seen him look that way once before when he was much young he remembered, he escaped for a little while before being returned.

Even now, Harry could not recall what happened once Vernon reached into the cupboard to grab him. He did remember waking up the next day feeling worse then he had ever felt, and his clothing soaked with blood, but he could not find any cuts, only a few light scars that looked like they were fading away as he looked at them. His Uncle had seemed shocked to see him the next, but demanded his breakfast just the same. He now chopped it up to magic, but the only time other time he had healed that fast was when Fawkes cried onto him. He didn't remember the healing of his arm after Wormtail cut him in his fourth year.

"Boy! What have you been telling those freaks? We feed you, clothe you, give you a shelter so your freak arse doesn't die from cold, and what thanks do we get? You go and tell them we mistreat you! Never in all my life… absolute lack of respect… in front of hundreds… What do you have to say for yourself?" Vernon demanded, as he slammed the accelerator down to the floor, forcing his brand new car to peel out into the roadway.

"I didn't tell them anything." Harry told him, only half paying attention to the screaming. Most of his concentration focused on how he was able to move from in front of the vomit to his cupboard when he was younger. Until he had seen his Uncle's face, he could not remember that Christmas at all.

"Ha! Like I'll believe that! Probably think we starve and beat you. It would be no less then you deserve, freak." Vernon said with venom.

"You already do that, or don't you remember? Locking me up in a small cupboard for days on end, punishing me for every little thing, even the shite that your precious Dimple diddidums pulled. I gain nearly twenty pounds every school year, just so I don't die when I loose it during the summer. Someone was bound to notice." Harry said bitingly. Vernon looked at him with disbelief before his ears took on a blood red hue and the car jumped nearly twenty kilometers faster. Vernon kept looking in the review mirror, as he started mumbling to himself.

"Ungrateful freaks…false…lies…nothing more then deserved…going to hurt… oh yes…" Vernon continued under his breath as he took a turn sharply and caused the car to fishtail through an intersection. "Boy, you think your freak friends are going to scare me? You don't know fear, but I'll teach you… teach you the meaning of pain…" Vernon nearly screamed; letting large drops of spittle cover the inside of the window shield. Harry met his Uncle's death glare from the mirror, but he noticed something colder in his eyes, at it worried him.

"Lots of pain…" Vernon said in barely above a whisper.

The car stopped in the driveway of Number four privet drive with a small screech of resistance from the tires, leaving a black trail along the pristine pavement.

'Probably going to have to get rid off it too.' Harry thought to himself. Vernon tossed the keys, much harder then was necessary as he made his way into the house. Harry sighed as went to retrieve the keys from the lawn of the next door neighbors, Number Six. 'Another start to a bloody wonderful summer.' Harry struggled to bring his trunk and Hedwig's cage through the front door, but finally succeeded, to be met with Vernon's glaring face.

"Those freaks are not going to boss me around, boy." Vernon told him as Dudley came from behind him and pinned his arms to his side. The massive boy's arms, while incredibly flabby, also seemed to hold a lot of muscle, and Harry was not able to get out of his cousin's grip. He and his things were taken out to the back yard where a large red plastic container sat next to a big metal bin that Harry had to grind rust off of every year.

"You learn respect, boy. We took your ungrateful freakishness into our house, out of the kindness of our hearts. Should have listened to Marge. Her dogs would have been happy for the extra meal." Vernon said as he kicked open the freak's trunk.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Harry demanded, struggling against the hold of his cousin. Vernon just smiled as he dumped the contents of the trunk into the bin. Vernon's demented smile only grew as he poured the contents of the red plastic container and comprehension dawned on Harry. The foul smell of petrol and burnt paper rose into the air as Harry screamed for him to stop, only to be met with the laughter of both Vernon and Dudley. As the flames rose, Harry saw his most prized possessions burning into ash, spitting out a spark every once in a while. His father's invisibility cloak, the Map, and his photo album, all gone. Harry was in a slight daze when he felt someone reach into his back pocket, the pocket he kept his wand in, despite Moody's warnings.

"Don't want to be getting any ideas, now do we?" Vernon said with glee, quickly throwing the freak's stick into the fire. The wand held strong against the flames for a few minutes but eventually gave way and began to burn. Several red and gold sparks shot into the air as an image of Fawkes sang mournfully over the fire. 'No…my wand…why?' Harry asked himself in his mind.

"And now for that ruddy bird." Vernon proclaimed as he threw open the cage door. He reached in to pull the bird out and received several deep gashes on his hand and lower arm. "Damn blasted bird!" Vernon screamed as he pulled the now white and red bird from its cage by its torso, while she snapped at him audibly. "Make sure you never wake me up again!" Vernon said to the bird, and laughed insanely as it screeched in pain as his grip increased. It was about this time that Dudley questioned his father's sanity, but the thought was quickly dashed from his mind, he was hurting the freak, and that was all that mattered.

Harry continued to struggle, but his cousin was too strong. There was something at the back of his mind, but he could not grasp it. 'Not Hedwig…no…not Hedwig…' He thought as he fought to get out of the death lock and tap into the power that seemed just beyond his grasp.

"Barbecue sound good to you, Dudley?" Vernon asked as he tossed the helpless bird into the air above the fire. Harry watched his first friend in the world make a slow arch in the air before she began to plummet towards the fire.

"No!" Harry screamed. In that moment, several things happened. Something inside Harry felt like it exploded inside his body. His eyes began to glow an odd greenish yellow and he let out a fierce growl. Dudley suddenly found himself holding onto a cloud of black and began to choke on it violently. Harry found himself next to the bin a moment later, just in time to see Hedwig fall into the flames. 'Not happening…' He thought to himself as he reached in the flames to retrieve his friend, not noticing his skin become black and burnt, or the fact that he could not feel the initial pain he had felt from putting his hands inside of flames. Skin cracked and peeled off of his hands and arms as he pulled the now black bird from the fire.

"Hedwig?" Harry asked, hoping for some sort of response from the smoking animal. He received none. She was dead, and from the angle of her neck, probably dead before she began to burn. 'Hedwig…' Dead. His first true friend, his first companion. Gone. She had always been there for him. Through the nightmares, and when his friends would not send him letters, when she was locked up with him in their own personal jails, when the wizarding world turned on him. Always there for an encouraging nip or a bite on the ear to set him straight. Always there. And now, nothing. Harry was numb. He just stared at his lost friend, which is why he did not notice the burnt and flaking skin on his hands and arms begin to turn into new pinkish flesh or his Uncle walk up behind him. He never heard the swing, but he felt the blow. Getting hit with a shovel in the back of the head is bound to cause anyone to take notice.

Light, that was the first thing he noticed. Then he was able to make out a few shapes. They were very blurry at first, but they began to become a little bit sharper after a few moments. He could feel that he did not have any glasses on and wondered how he could see so well. His sight was by no means perfect, but it was better then it should be without his glasses. The next thing he noticed was smell. How he had not noticed the smell sooner was beyond him. It was a coppery kind of smell and it assaulted his nose, making him almost real back from it. Almost, because it was then he realized that he was chained to the wall of his 'bedroom'. He tugged on the chains until his wrists bled and he felt something pop, leaving him in excruciating pain for a few minutes before he felt the cuts on his wrists slowly closing, the blood stopping, and a bone in his wrist mending.

"What the fuck?" He had asked himself.

That had been five days ago. Five days without food, water, or any real sleep. The sleep he got was plagued by nightmares, Sirius falling through the veil, Hedwig falling into the fire, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Neville, Dumbledore, all falling. All dead. In the mornings Vernon would walk in with a large black whip. Where Vernon got it, Harry did not know, but he hated the man and his whip with a passion. Few people could compete with the likes of Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange, but Vernon was quickly climbing that list.

Every morning he would be beat with it, and as the blood splatters on the wall and his clothing suggested, it cut deep. And after his Uncle left him in a bloody mess, covered in gashes and bones broken, Harry would feel the cuts and bones fixing themselves and the bruises disappear and the blood return to him leaving burn marks in the floor, his clothes and walls it crossed over. It scared him at first, for things to begin to heal themselves with no active control over it and for his blood to burn everything but him and return to him. He blessed his healing now though, because had he not been able to do it, he would be dead by now, several times over. It took nearly an hour for his body to heal itself after the first whipping. Now, after five days, he was slowly healing himself during the beatings, much to the glee and confusion of his Uncle. The overall pain of the beatings seemed to be lessening, or he was getting used them. There was a great pain in both of his hands though, and for all the healing that his body went through each day, he could not understand what it was. It especially hurt during the beatings though, when Harry desired nothing more in the world then to rip his Uncle's throat out in a rage of pain, hatred, and anger.

He had tried for the better part of the day to… do whatever it was that he had done to get out before. The only thing that he thought it could be was apparition, but he had never studied how to and knew that there was a very distinct feeling according to the twins. But he could not do it. Like before, the power to do it seemed to be just beyond his reach.

Five days, and no one had come to check up on him. Even after they told him to send a letter every three days or they would see what was wrong, no one came. No letters had been brought by owls, demanding to know why they had not heard from him, nothing. They had abandoned him, and Harry did not know why. Last year there were guards posted outside of his house, why weren't they here now? In the fist couple of days his screams could be heard across the neighborhood, one neighbor, Number Six, had even called to tell the Dursley's to keep their stereo down. So if they were there, they would have heard. Having nothing better to do all day, he thought about his life, and why it was so fucked up. Voldemort, Pettigrew, Lestrange, Snape, and Dumbledore seemed to be the top reasons, along with his 'family'. They were the death of his real family, the betrayal, the torture, the anger, the lies, and the death of his childhood respectively. They would all pay dearly for what they had done. He would remember them forever if necessary to make them pay.

Why had he not been told sooner? Ready or not, Voldemort was not going to give a rat's arse. It did not matter if he was too young to accept the truth. It would probably not matter if he was three times as old as he was; being told that you are connected through prophecy to kill or be killed is going to dampen anyone's day. Or life, really. He was forced to come to this hell on earth every year by the man that he had looked up to since finding out about the wizarding world. Were those kind blue eyes false? Was that genial demeanor an act? All those house elves, eager to please, all the empty space in the castle. Why couldn't he stay there? The more he thought about it, the more like every year seemed like a test, a way to see how far he could be pushed.

'Was it all a test? Has Dumbledore been trying to prepare me? For what? Lessons in dumb luck? I should have died in every one of those situations, but I always made it out, just barely. He had to know about it all. Did he push me just far enough to get some sort of results? What am I to him? You don't do that to people you respect. no people you care about…What am I? Some sort of weapon? I refuse to be anyone's weapon I am my own master and nothing will stop that and no one will manipulate me again.'

He cut his musings short as he heard the backdoor close downstairs, and something heavy and metallic being dragged across the floor. He shook his head. All of his senses seemed to be increasing, with smell as the first one he noticed and later his hearing, and slowly his eyesight was getting better. He had wondered briefly if his father had had werewolf or vampire blood that had decided to make its self known, but disregarded the thoughts as his door was suddenly kicked in.

"Got a new toy today, freak. Maybe it will teach you to not spread lies about honest, hardworking people." Vernon said smacking the end of the fifty pound sledgehammer into his palm like it was a fist. Harry looked up just in time to see the hammer fall, slamming into his leg. Harry fought back the scream that was trying to force its way out of his mouth, but lost it when the hammer bashed his other leg. Both legs were pulverized, but healing slowly. Vernon held the heavy sledge above his head, ready to slam it down again when he saw his nephew's eyes. They were completely glowing. The greenish yellow light and the pure anger of the boy's face made Vernon hesitate for a moment, a moment too long. A loud animalistic yell that sounded like a cross between a growl and a roar filled the room and the freak disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

'I'm going to kill him!' Harry thought as he tried with all his might to break the chains and reach his uncle. The chains strained, and he let out his frustrations in a yell. That power, whatever it was that allowed him to move like he had was back. It saturated his body until it covered him like a warm blanket and he suddenly appeared in front of his Uncle. The pain and pressure that had been building in his hands for the last few days suddenly gave way and he tried to choke the life out of his Uncle. He tried to, being the key word. Before his hands even reached the whale of a man, his Uncle's neck was impaled by six long, yellow-white, claw looking things. Blood gushed forth from the meaty man's neck as he fell to his knees, gurgling.

Harry looked at the things protruding from his hands. Well, technically they seemed to be coming out of his knuckles, but that was not the point. Three whitish yellow twelve inch things coming from between the knuckles on his hands. The ends were covered in blood, Vernon's blood, he realized a moment later. He looked down at the already dead man. He had done that. He had done what he had wanted to do ever since the beatings started, since as long as he could remember, if he was honest with himself. But he had taken a life…and he did not feel guilty about it.

'Why should I feel guilty? He was going to kill me and he deserved it. He would have already done it if I would have stopped healing and because of my healing he tortured me. But what the hell is happening to me? Healing is one thing, but growing fucking claws and blood that burns through all things but me! Maybe I am a freak…Maybe they were right…No. No…they were the freaks. Treating a child like that…Nothing more then he deserved…I've got to get out of here.' Harry thought as he heard a car door slam, Aunt Petunia was home.

"Okay…I did it before…come on…work!" He screamed at himself. The warm sensation covered him again and he disappeared in a puff of black smoke, only to reappear in London, in the middle of the road, right in front of a speeding 16-wheel truck. A mighty screech was heard as the back tires locked up, trying to slow down. It didn't matter though. The flat front of the truck collided with Harry before he could even think of moving. His body stuck to the front end, and he felt the metal shape to his form for a split second before he was thrown back, landing on his side and skidding to a halt just inside of an alley some eighty yards away, right in front of a tall and hairy man with black eyes and a fur coat. The man sniffed the air a couple times and picked up the boy who had just slid into him by his shirt. The man smirked, revealing several sharp and pointed teeth as he watched the boys cuts heal themselves, and the bone claws slowly retract.

"And I thought it'd be harder…" The large man said to himself, taking out a cell phone.

"Director…yes, its Sabretooth…London…found one…a perfect specimen…on my way." The man, Sabretooth, pocketed the clearly too small device in one of his many pockets. "I can find Magneto after this. Thanks, kid. You may have just saved my piece of the pie." He growled out softly, as not to be heard. Harry moaned and Sabretooth punched him in the temple, knocking Harry out. He smirked again as he threw the boy over his shoulders and continued to walk down the alleyway. He had a plane to catch and pilot.

End Chapter

That's the end of the first chapter. What did you think? Any and all ideas are welcomed; just leave me a review or an e-mail I will get the next chapter out soon.