Xchange Students

Xchange Students

Chapter 6: Machinations and Meetings

Marie woke to an unfamiliar but anxious face bending over her. "Are you all right, my dear?" a woman wearing a white hat asked.

The woman stepped back as Rogue pushed up to a sitting position. Marie found herself lying on a bed in what appeared to be a hospital. "Yeah, fine, I think," Marie replied cautiously. "Who are you?"

"I am Madam Pomfrey, resident Healer at the school. You are in the Infirmary. Professor Hagrid and your friends brought you in a few moments ago. You fainted, and I was about to examine you."

"Uh-uh," Marie said firmly, crossing her arms. "You can't do that because--"

"Don't worry, Miss D'Ancanto. I am well aware of your particular talent." Madam Pomfrey raised her hands. She was wearing cotton gloves. She studied Marie, saying, "Your colour is coming back, my dear. I am sure it was simply a faint, after all, rather than the coma your young man feared. I think there is nothing wrong with you that a good meal and a night's sleep will not cure. Wait here a moment."

Marie decided that her “young man” would be Bobby. Her collapse must have been brought on by the sudden, complete withdrawal of Jack's persona. Usually, the drain was gradual, so Rogue's body could adjust. The wrench of immediate separation had thrown her a little, that was it; Rogue was not the fainting type!

Madam Pomfrey stepped aside when Bobby dashed into the room and threw his arms around Marie. For a while, nothing else mattered to either of them. Soon after, Madam Pomfrey pronounced Marie fit to return to her House.

Ginny was waiting by the door to accompany Marie and Bobby back to Gryffindor Tower. She didn't say anything, just hugged Marie hard. In the Common Room, they were greeted with warm applause. Food had been sent up, but the others had waited before eating. To her astonishment, Marie found herself caught up in a bear hug from Peter. He released her, looking a little awkward, before sitting down to eat with single-minded intensity. The rest followed suit.

Marie asked about the twins and learned they had already gone to bed. After the older students finished their meal, they moved closer to the fire. Marie nestled happily against Bobby on the couch. Ginny, with a complete disregard for decorum, shoved Peter down into one of the big armchairs and climbed onto his lap. Neville and Lavender sat very near each other on another couch. Nobody spoke for a while.

Then, Bobby said, "I gotta hand it to you. You guys were awesome out there! Isn't that so, Petey?"

"Gryffindors kick ass!" rumbled Peter. He would have said more, but Ginny chose that moment to cover his mouth with hers.

Neville smiled. "Couldn't have done it without you three, Bob!"

Impulsively, Lavender jumped from the couch and crouched in front of Marie, looking up into her eyes. "Marie, your power is so amazing. I mean, everyone dreams of being invincible like Peter, and Bob's power is really incredible. But, you--that's not a power, that's a talent. Now I know why you have to be so careful around everyone. It must be like a curse for you! I saw how you looked--how you had to fight the creature to stay yourself. If I'd realised, I'd never have let you."

The unflappable English girl was close to sympathetic tears. Marie started misting up herself as she leaned forward. "It's OK, sugah," Marie soothed, the emotional drawl back in her voice. "Ah'm one tough cookie. It's all good, y'hear? We're here, an' safe. Tha's what counts!"

The two girls looked at each other for a moment, then Lavender went back to sit beside Neville, who put his hand on her shoulder, squeezed slightly, and left it there.

Just then, Professor McGonagall entered the room. 'Uh-oh', thought Marie, 'here it comes. We blew it. Back to Xavier's on the next portkey.'

"Don't get up," instructed the Professor, "this evening's activities must have left you all exhausted. Miss Weasley, in particular, looks far too depleted to move." Rogue smiled at what looked like a twinkle in the professor's eye.

McGonagall turned stern when she addressed Neville. "Professor Hagrid has already furnished me with a full report based on what you told him, so there is no need to recount the evening's events. You are aware, of course, that the Forest is off limits to students, and that you were out after curfew? In addition, you endangered not only your fellow students, but also our guests. What have you to say?"

Neville stood, and looked the Professor straight in the eye. "We were hoping to get the twins back quickly and safely. It didn't work out that way. I'm sorry. I take full responsibility."

"Hmm. I note, Mr Longbottom, that you refrain from mentioning that Kylie and Jason Barrett were the victims of a cruel prank by two young Slytherins. I have spoken to Professor Snape, and the boys will be punished.

"As to your taking responsibility on yourself, must I remind you that Miss Brown, as Prefect, must also bear her share? I am forced to take twenty points from each of you."

Professor McGonagall regarded the Mutants. "As for you three, I find myself irresistibly reminded of the students you are temporarily replacing. This is precisely the kind of hare-brained escapade Mr Potter and his friends would fling themselves into. Do you have anything to say?"

Marie faced her as directly as Neville had. "Professor, these guys have gone out of their way--done everything they can--to make us feel part of this House and this school. So, when they needed our help, they got it. If that was wrong, I'm sorry. But, whether you're a Gryffindor or an X-Man, the rules are the same. We take care of our own."

McGonagall looked at her for a long moment. Her expression did not change, but, this time, Rogue was certain about the twinkle behind the glasses. "Well spoken, Miss D'Ancanto! Despite your short stay with us, you and your colleagues have shown loyalty, friendship and courage in the best tradition of Gryffindor House. I am left with no alternative but to award the three of you twenty points each. Now, I suggest you all take yourselves off to bed."

Professor McGonagall departed. Ginny gave Peter one last deep, voracious kiss, then slipped off his lap, said good night, and went upstairs. Peter levered himself upright and made for the stairs, calling "'night" over his shoulder. Bobby and Marie withdrew to a corner for a parting kiss, then Bobby left. Marie looked over to see if Lavender were heading her way, but Lavender and Neville were still on the couch, talking quietly to each other, but not so quietly that Rogue's quick ears could miss the conversation.

"Neville, you were wonderful out there!" Lavender praised.

"Don't be silly, Lavender! I would have been all over the place without you. You were a tower of strength, and it was you who spotted that creature."

"I never knew you were so brave."

"Brave? I was scared to death. If you hadn't been there..."

"You should believe in yourself, more. I believe in you, Neville."

Rogue tiptoed to the stairs. At the foot of them, she glanced back to see Neville draw Lavender into his arms. Marie grinned.

**** **** ****

That night, in a hidden room hundreds of miles away, Narcissa Malfoy, Number Two among the Knights of Walpurgis, took her seat at the round table. She stared through the eye-slits of her black, silk mask at eleven other similarly disguised figures who sat at the table.

"I speak for Number One," she said firmly, indicating the empty chair to her right.

The absent Number One, Narcissa's husband, Lucius Malfoy, was currently languishing in Azkaban Prison, put there by the traitor Dumbledore and his lickspittle Order of the Phoenix. Lucius, like generations of Malfoys before him, was the head of the most ancient secret society in the Wizarding world.

Centuries ago, the Knights of Walpurgis had vowed to continue the work of Salazar Slytherin. Their original aim had been to preserve the purity of bloodlines against the encroaching dilution of Half-bloods and Mudbloods. Over time, the group's aims had changed, first to ensure Pureblood control of the Wizarding world, then to establish Wizard domination over Muggles.

A Malfoy had always led the Knights of Walpurgis. By tradition, only Number One learned the identities of the other twelve members. Narcissa knew only that some of those sitting around the table were former Death Eaters; others had once opposed Voldemort's ambitions. The only thing all Knights had in common was pureblood lineage from the oldest Wizarding families.

"The situation is becoming intolerable," Narcissa declared. "Voldemort stays in hiding whilst our enemies increase in power and number. It is time for bold strokes!"

There was a stir around the table. Some flinched, but more heads nodded in agreement. Years ago, the Knights of Walpurgis had lent their influence to the rising dark star who called himself Lord Voldemort. The Knights had seen Voldemort as a cat's-paw, a figurehead behind which to further their own plans. But, they had encountered an unexpected obstacle--the child called Harry Potter. Voldemort had fallen.

Now, he was back, and beginning another rise to power. The Knights of Walpurgis still supported him, but, this time, with more reservations. They had seen the wisdom of their earlier decision to remain in the shadows. Voldemort did not know of their existence.

Number Three spoke. "The Dark Lord is paralysed by fear--fear of Dumbledore, but, most of all, fear of the Potter boy. Every attempt by Voldemort to dispose of the boy has ended in failure. Potter leads a charmed life, and after he grows into manhood, there are many who will look to him for leadership."

Number Seven added, "Dumbledore remains a formidable opponent, but if Potter is allowed to become all he might be, he could become unstoppable!"

Narcissa nodded. "Potter must be our main objective; the boy is the key to all our plans."

"He is to be killed, then?" asked Number Ten.

"Not necessarily. Certainly, if the boy were to die, Lord Voldemort would recover from his fear and once again become useful to us. But, consider this: It will eventually become necessary to dispose of that pathetic, mad Half-blood. If Harry Potter could be brought over to our side, many wizards who now oppose our aims would flock to us. The boy is a natural leader, as charismatic as Voldemort, and he does not need fear to command loyalty."

"Potter's mother was a Mudblood!" Number Four protested.

"No matter. Voldemort is only a Half-blood. In any event, Potter's father came from old and pure Wizarding stock. I do not intend to make the boy one of us, merely to use him."

"And how will you do that?" demanded Number Four.

"Bring the boy to me. I am sure I can find the means to...persuade him." Narcissa moved sinuously in her seat. The black robe she wore parted a little, revealing more than a glimpse of snowy flesh and soft curves.

Number Six laughed. "You would seduce the boy?" Her voice was that of an aging, imperious and aristocratic woman.

Narcissa shrugged. "Why not? It would not be so unpleasant; he is a handsome youth. He is also sixteen years old. To a boy of that age, sex is a far greater motivator than either wealth or power. An experienced woman has much more to offer him than any simpering, virgin schoolgirl! A night in my bed should gain his cooperation. Later, as he acquires a taste for power, he will desire it for its own sake."

"This plan is all very well," put in Number Five, "but it depends upon us having Potter in our grasp. My sources tell me he is no longer at Hogwarts. Rumour has it, he is in America."

"I, too, have sources at Hogwarts!" snapped Narcissa. "While there are certainly Americans at the school--they call themselves 'Mutants'--it does not follow that Potter is in America. I believe, as my sources do, that Dumbledore would not send Potter beyond his reach. Depend upon it: Potter is somewhere in that castle!"

Narcissa leaned forward, eyes blazing. "Now, here are Number One's instructions. We all have people loyal to us. Our forces must believe that they have been ordered by Voldemort to raid the Castle and locate Potter. If they can take him alive, well and good; they must bring him here to me. If he dies, so be it.

"At the same time, they should try to capture one of the Americans. My sources tell me these beings have strange abilities. If Dumbledore is recruiting allies, we should learn about them.

"It goes without saying that none of this must reach Voldemort's ears." Narcissa stood, wrapping her robes crisply about her. "Be ready in three weeks' time."

**** **** ****

To receive an owl on Sunday morning was not unusual enough to cause comment among Draco Malfoy's housemates, but rare enough to cause him some momentary concern. The letter was addressed in his mother's sprawling italic hand, rather than his father's crisp copperplate. What did that impossible woman want now? Draco opened the letter.

My darling Draco (That settled it; she had some silly errand for him.),

Your father and I agree (Now, that's a first.) that Potter must still be in the Castle somewhere. We need you to keep your eyes and ears open to see if you can find out where he is (Yes, mother, I've been doing that all week.).

You should try asking some of those Gryffindors. The Weasley girl must surely know where her brother and his gang are hiding. If you get her angry or upset enough, she might blurt it out (Upset her? With that seven-foot American gorilla wrapped round her? How much have you insured me for?).

You must be aware that a Certain Person is anxious to know Potter's whereabouts. I will say no more than that a little surprise is being planned. You must also find out all you can about these Americans (And get myself killed in the process? I think not.).

On another matter, my darling boy (Oh, no, here we go…), I'm disappointed to see that you no longer mention dear Pansy as often as you used to. I do hope you two have not had a falling out? (We'd be fine if the silly tart could keep her sweaty hands to herself.) You know how important it is to your father and I that you make a suitable marriage after you leave school. Do try to be pleasant to Pansy; she is from a respectable pureblood family, after all. I will write to her mother to assure her all is well.

Now, remember what I have said. It is important that you find Potter. Do not fail me.

Love,

Mama

Draco scowled. Damn and blast the woman! Let her write whatever fantasy she wanted to the Parkinsons. Under parental pressure, Draco had endured Pansy Parkinson for five years, now. Then, just before Christmas, the chit had attempted to get familiar, indeed intimate, with him. He had found the experience nauseating. Draco had begun to suspect that his tastes did not lie in the direction of girls.

Well, he would find Potter if he could, for his own reasons if not his mother's (or a Certain Person's, for that matter). Crabbe and Goyle could be relied on, and Pansy had better help--or else!

In his private moments, Draco often wished things had gone differently in that first year. If Potter had come to Slytherin, Draco might have had at least one worthy friend. It was that thought that inflamed his hatred and bitterness more than any other.

Ginny was alone in the Library, waiting for Peter to join her. He had wanted to find out how Muggles and Wizards managed to live without conflict. She supposed that this Professor X hoped Mutants would be able to do the same. In preparation, Ginny had taken down some Histories, and had just found the right chapter in one of them, when she heard some people approach her table.

She looked up; there were Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and, slightly behind the others, Pansy Parkinson. There was going to be trouble. Ginny kept her hand near her wand.

"Well, now," Malfoy drawled, "here's little Ginny Weasley, the Gryffindor good-time girl! All on her own, too. What's the matter? Run out of boys, have we? Gone through all of Gryffindor and half of Ravenclaw already, has this one,” Draco pointed out to Crabbe and Goyle, who sniggered on cue. “And all because she can't have Harry Potter! Well, when you're ready to start on Slytherin, let me know…"

"That's enough, Draco," said Pansy, quietly. "You're going too far."

"What's this? Girls sticking together? I wish I may live to see it! Now, shut up, Pansy. As for you, Weasley, cat got your tongue? Or not so brave without big brother Ronnie around?"

"I don't need Ron to deal with you, Malfoy!" snarled Ginny, her temper well and truly up.

"That’s good, because poor old Ron's hiding out with Potter, isn't he? No doubt both of them are holed up somewhere in a little room, fumbling around with Granger. What a picture!"

Ginny's eyes blazed; then, suddenly, she grinned. A gigantic shadow fell over Malfoy and his cronies, and a bass voice inquired, "Is there a problem, here?"

Crabbe and Goyle both leapt a foot in the air and landed running. They vanished in seconds. Pansy erupted with laughter. She leaned against a bookcase, clutched her middle, and howled till tears ran down her face.

Malfoy turned to find his exit blocked by the massive figure of Peter Rasputin. He stepped back, bumped into the table, and turned again, directly into the tip of Ginny's wand. "Piss off out of it, Malfoy," Ginny said sweetly. Draco, between a rock and a hard place, sucked in his breath and inched crabwise between the pair until he could bolt for the door.

Ginny aimed her wand at Pansy. Pansy raised her hands. "OK, peace! Draco dragged me into this. I didn't know he was going to be a sod. For what it's worth, I'm sorry for what he said to you."

Ginny seemed to struggle with herself for a moment. "Oh...go away!"

Pansy nodded and turned to leave, then turned back. "Just one thing," she said hesitantly, "wherever Harry is--he is all right, isn't he?"

"He's fine!" snapped Ginny. "Why? What's it to you?"

Pansy spoke in a tone that dripped bitterness. "Why, Ginevra, did you think you were the only one to have feelings for Harry Potter?" She turned, and almost ran from the Library.

Ginny stared after her in wonder for a moment, then smiled at Peter. "Thanks for rescuing me. How can anyone so big move so quietly?"

Peter lowered himself into a chair next to her. It creaked alarmingly, but held. He grinned. "Practice, babe. Anyway, I was rescuing them, not you. You looked as if you were about to turn them all into frogs."

"What's wrong with that?"

Peter grimaced. "Frogs breed awful fast, hon. I'd sooner have four people who tick me off than about four thousand really irritating frogs!"

Ginny laughed, then a thought occurred to her. "Peter," she asked anxiously, "how much did you hear?"

"All of it," he replied evenly.

"Oh," Ginny said, in a small voice.

Peter reached out and captured her tiny hands in his huge ones. "Ginny--no, look at me--it's not important, babe. I know Jerko Malfoy was exaggerating. So, you've had boyfriends—no surprise there. After I'm gone, you'll have others. It doesn't matter, Ginny. Here and now, we're together, and I’m glad.

Ginny sighed. "I like having a boyfriend, someone a bit special to share things with and have a laugh. I grew up with six brothers, so I understand boys better than girls. We Weasleys are a physical lot, too. I like to cuddle and kiss.

"But, after a while, the boys all start to get serious. I'm fifteen, I don't want to think about that right now! So, I dump them, if they don't dump me, and find somebody new. It makes some people gossip. That's why I told you everything, straight off. But, I was still worried that what Malfoy said would make you think badly of me!"

Peter shook his head. "Never happen, babe. There is something I do want to hear about." He looked intently at her. "Harry," he said. Ginny's heart turned over, and she stared at Peter, her mind in a whirl.

"Just tell me. All of it," Peter urged.

She told him how she had first met Harry, and been very taken with him, when she was ten years old. She’d been proud and thrilled when her brother became the best friend of The Boy Who Lived. Most of all, she had felt such gratitude when Harry and Ron opened the Chamber of Secrets to rescue her. "Of course," Ginny admitted, "I realised, later, that Harry would have done the same for anyone in danger--even Pansy-bloody-Parkinson. That's just who Harry is."

But, last year, Ginny told Peter, she had finally decided to stop worshipping an increasingly remote Harry. Instead, she decided to focus on other boys. "I thought I was over Harry, I really did. Then, Marie said he’d taken up with this Kitty, and it went through me like a knife! As long as I made myself believe Harry wasn't interested in girls or romance, it was all right, but now...." Ginny raised pained eyes to Peter. "I'm so sorry, this must be awful for you."

"Not even a little bit," Peter soothed. "Like I said, this is here and now. Harry has Kitty; you have me. Unless…you want to stop seeing me?" Ginny shook her head fiercely to Peter’s evident relief.

"Ginny," he continued, "after this term, I'll be gone. Let's not kid ourselves. We've got till Easter to be together, have fun and all the other stuff. After that, we'll probably write, maybe even visit, but we'll both have to move on. With any luck, we’ll stay good friends.

“But, Harry will be back. Babe, he's gonna come back different than he was before--maybe less lonely, maybe more savvy. Don't give up on him, Ginny. You're a special lady, and he's gotta know that. You tell me Harry's smart, so if a big, dumb lug like me can see you for who you are, he has to be able to!"

Ginny freed her hands from his, and cupped Peter’s face in them. "If a girl were looking for a husband, she could do a lot worse than you, Piotr Nicolayevitch!"

"Hey! I told you, my Dad only calls me that when I'm in trouble!"

"Well, you're going to be in an awful lot of trouble if you don't come here and kiss me right now!"

He sat down beside her to share a kiss that was not their usual greedy fare. This kiss was soft, lingering, and very tender. New vistas were opening for Ginny, though it would be a while before she could fully appreciate them.

Behind the row of bookshelves, Professor Snape moved silently away. He had a meeting to attend, and what he had just heard and seen would strongly influence his contribution.

**** **** ****

Professor Charles Xavier, Scott Summers and Logan arrived in Professor Dumbledore's study by Portkey, promptly at three that afternoon. Xavier seemed unmoved by the experience, but Scott looked slightly dazed, and Logan muttered, "That was one helluva ride !"

Dumbledore came forward and greeted Xavier warmly. The two men had much in common, and were becoming friends as well as colleagues. Xavier introduced his staff members, and Dumbledore, in turn, introduced Professors McGonagall and Snape, who rose from their seats to shake hands. Dumbledore noticed a slight flicker in Wolverine's eyes when they exchanged greetings, but Dumbledore said nothing.

After they were all settled comfortably around the fire and tea had been served ("Ah!" smiled Xavier, "Earl Grey!"), the meeting began. "I feel I must commence with an apology," Xavier said. "I have failed to keep your students as safe as I intended. At the same time, I must thank you, Albus, for sending me three such fine and brave young people. Harry, Hermione and Ron are a credit to your school."

Dumbledore smiled. "I must echo your sentiments, Charles. I would have preferred not to have to report the incident in our Forbidden Forest. Yet, Miss D'Ancanto, Mr Drake and Mr Rasputin have shown a degree of courage and skill that reflects well on their teachers."

"Nevertheless," interjected Professor McGonagall, "proud as I am of my Gryffindors, and as much as I admire your students’ bravery and loyalty, Charles, I must say my fears have been confirmed. We should consider calling an end to this exchange and bringing the children home."

"I agree," put in Cyclops. "All these kids have enough dangers of their own to face, without getting mixed up in each others’ troubles."

"They don't see it that way, Cyke," said Logan. "Their friends’ problems are theirs, and they're gonna help out if they can. Kitty told us she tried to get Harry to take the others back inside, but he point-blank refused. He's a born leader, and the others take their cue from him."

"Miss D'Ancanto is equally headstrong," remarked Snape, "and a natural leader. Mr Longbottom and Miss Brown tried to dissuade our guests from joining them, but, again, to no avail.

"You must understand, Professor Summers, these individuals are no longer children, but young adults. They are quite capable of deciding for themselves where their loyalties and duties lie, as Professor Logan says."

"Just Logan, Sev. I ain't no professor. What I know, they don't teach in regular schools."

"Ah, you’re from the 'school of hard knocks', I take it?" Snape replied.

"Hard as you like, bub. I can take 'em or give 'em out. Your choice!"

Snape succumbed to a rare grin. "I have no doubt whatsoever of that, Logan. My name, by the way, is 'Severus'. Do try to say the whole thing." Logan nodded and chuckled.

Scott was surprised, and gazed at the two men for a moment. On the face of it, the tall, ascetic Wizard, pale-faced and decidedly acidic in manner, had nothing in common with the stocky, rugged Mutant with his weathered features and rough-spoken ways. Nothing, that is, until you studied their eyes, and realized that both men had experienced much during their lives. These two understood each other.

"It should also be said," Dumbledore remarked to Xavier, "that you were completely honest with us regarding the potential dangers in the scheme. You did point out that you had enemies, this Hellfire Club among them. You also made it clear that enemy attacks are far from predictable."

Xavier pointed out, "You revealed the dangers of Wizarding life, though at the time, it seemed that the greatest threat might come from this Lord Voldemort. Neither of us could have foreseen the set of circumstances that prompted our students to go into the Forest."

"That is true," said McGonagall, "but, on the other hand, Charles, do you not think that the visit to this 'shopping mall' should have been either cancelled or, at least, more closely supervised?"

Xavier spread his hands. "What was I to do, Professor? I had promised my students the trip, and I make a point of keeping promises. Among youngsters of this age, adult supervision would be bitterly resented. 'Hanging at the mall' is a common Saturday pastime for American teenagers, and I will not deprive my students of such simple pleasures.

"I could, of course, have forbidden your students to join their classmates. But, that would have left Harry, Hermione and Ron feeling abandoned. My regular students would have been disappointed not to share the activity with their new friends. At least two of my students, Kitty Pryde and Danielle Moonstar, made a point of asking that your students be included in the outing. It seems they were planning a surprise for Hermione--a small makeover."

"Makeover?" inquired Snape.

"It's a girl thing," explained Scott, with a grin. "They get their nails, hair and makeup done in order to look glamorous. Works, too! I didn't see Hermione till after the ruckus, but she still looked great. More to the point," Scott continued soberly, "we've got to ask ourselves: Are the risks to the kids worth anything they might gain from this exchange?"

"Damn right, they are!" growled Logan. Scott flinched; he knew that tone--Wolverine was taking no prisoners, today. Logan insisted, "They've gained something big, already. These kids are bonding, folks! I was kinda worried about the whole Wizard-Mutant thing, thought it might be oil and water. I was wrong.

"The kids pitched right in. They all worked like hell to make it happen, and they succeeded. After just a week, both sets are working like teams. There's no jealousy, no rivalry--they trust each other. At the mall, when they were in danger, they didn't crack or let each other down.

"Do you guys realize what that means? We Mutants expect to be persecuted by ordinary humans--Muggles, right? Yeah, well, here we have a bunch of people who not only accept Mutants but like 'em! Our kids finally discovered non-Mutants they can trust. And, the Hogwarts kids learned they’re not so alone, either.

Logan shook his head. "Scott, Professor McGonagall, I understand where you're coming from on this. But, these kids are building bridges, here--not just for themselves, but also for both our kinds. It'd be a cryin' shame to stop everything just as it's coming together!"

"Logan is absolutely right," Snape said hotly. "I, too, had my concerns about opening Hogwarts to strangers. As Wizards, we know better than to reveal our existence to Muggles. I was skeptical about this exchange.”

"The young Americans have caused me to re-examine our Wizarding prejudices. Our community has turned in on itself. We run a very real risk of stagnating, even becoming decadent. It is unwise to ignore the world around us, even though many among us resent the new thoughts and ideas we gain each year from our Muggle-born intake. As one of the most ancient branches of humanity, we should not lose the opportunity to forge a friendship with the newest. It is an opportunity to be grasped, not abandoned.”

Scott sighed. "You're right, of course. There is a lot to be gained. I guess I'm a worrier. But, you know why, Logan, and so does the Professor.”

"What of the students?” asked McGonagall. “Do they wish to continue this experiment?”

Xavier smiled, and turned to McGonagall. "It seems that there is an attraction, indeed a budding romance, between Harry Potter and one of my students, Kitty Pryde. Kitty has had a difficult time in the past, and is emotionally rather withdrawn and fragile. For whatever reason, she has begun to trust Harry."

Dumbledore looked pleased. "This is excellent news. Harry has become increasingly lonely of late. A loving, uncomplicated relationship with a suitable young woman will be good for him. I take it that Miss Pryde is such a person?"

"Kitty is warm, intelligent, very pretty, and she walks through walls. Is that....suitable?"

"Oh, eminently, eminently!" Dumbledore laughed.

"We have a similar situation, here," added Professor McGonagall. "Our Miss Weasley appears to have taken your Mr Rasputin rather under her wing--" McGonagall broke off to glare at Snape, who had released a sharp bark of laughter.

"My apologies, Professor, but given that Mr Rasputin is a clear 18 inches taller than Miss Weasley, your words evoke a ridiculous mental image. " Snape shook his head ruefully. "I witnessed, quite inadvertently, a scene this morning which increases the relevance of your point. Up until now, Miss Weasley's relationships have been rather shallow. She seems to have found more meaning in the relationship with Mr Rasputin. To my mind, this could be a great step forward in Ginevra Weasley's development as a person. To part them now would be a retrograde step."

In the end, there could be only one decision. Scott and Professor McGonagall argued for caution without real conviction. Xavier and Dumbledore were determined to maintain the arrangement, and, with the backing of Snape and Wolverine, they carried the day.

Dumbledore sat back, steepling his fingers. "We have some administrative points to consider, but I feel a short break is in order. There are light refreshments on the sideboard. Do help yourselves. Charles, a private word?"

The others moved off. Xavier began a mental conversation of the kind which Dumbledore, a skilled Legilimens, enjoyed.

(So, Albus, what do we need to speak about privately?)

(Something quite unconnected to this meeting, Charles. You recall what

I said to you when I first read your staff dossiers?)

(Yes. You felt that you might have encountered Wolverine previously. I pointed out that his memory currently reaches back only 15 years, but that his mutation means he could be any age from 30 to over 100 years old. Had you met him before?)

(Indeed. I am now certain that the man you call Wolverine is the very same Sgt Logan with whom I spent a very brisk couple of days during the summer of 1943. Should we mention this to him?)

(Not now, I think. But, I would be interested to know more. It may be that we can reveal this to him at a more appropriate time.)

(I will write you an account, Charles. I am sorry Logan does not remember me. We were unable to meet again, as we had agreed, and I owe him a great deal. In particular, a pint of best bitter!)

At the sideboard, Professor McGonagall was allowing Scott to pour her another cup of tea. "I cannot honestly say that I am sorry we were outvoted, Professor Summers," she admitted.

"Call me ‘Scott’. Technically, I'm not a professor. I do agree with you, though."

"Scott, then," Professor McGonagall looked at this intense, handsome young man and experienced a passing wish to be some years younger. "It does seem that there is a basic...sympathy...between Wizards and Mutants--a kind of immediate rapport."

"Could be. We do all seem to get on, don't we? It may have something to do with vitality. Both Wizards and Mutants seem a lot more—alive--than Muggles."

"You use that word with a degree of familiarity, Scott."

"Yeah, guess I’ve picked it up from the kids. We needed a one-word way to describe non-Mutant humans. The only other term we had was an insult."

"Flatscan?" Responding to his look of surprise, McGonagall said, "Your Mr Drake used the word during a contretemps with one of our less open-minded students. Given the circumstances, I ignored the matter."

At the other end of the sideboard, Logan and Snape were working their way through the biscuits. "Shame there's only tea to drink," grumbled Logan. "After all that talk, I could use a beer."

"I could Transfigure some beer, I suppose, but I expect it would be thought inappropriate. Pity, I’d relish a glass of beer, myself. You must visit again, soon, Logan. We shall go to the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade for some serious indulgence." Snape grinned again, his expression as feral as Wolverine's.

The meeting reconvened. Professor Xavier needed to sign consent forms for Marie, Bobby and Peter to join in the Hogsmeade weekends. Dumbledore gave his permission for Harry, Ron and Hermione to train with Wolverine in unarmed combat, tactics and stealth, among other un-Wizardly skills.

There was one final matter. Xavier cleared his throat. "I am aware, Albus, that you have some concerns regarding the apparent mind-link that exists between Harry and Lord Voldemort."

"Yes. I did fear it would enable Voldemort to find Harry, even in America, and have his Death Eaters attack your school."

"He will have a warm welcome, should he try! However, I may have a better solution. I suspect that Harry possesses a powerful, but latent, telepathic capacity of his own. That, allied with an extremely strong will, was what enabled him to resist the White Queen's attack. I should be able to train Harry to shield his mind against almost any invasion and to lock Voldemort out permanently. Do I have your permission to begin this training?"

Dumbledore looked hopeful. "That would be most kind of you, Charles. We have tried to teach Harry Occlumency before, but...."

"There was a clash of personalities," said Snape. "Mr Potter and I are not compatible, I'm afraid."

"Then we will call that settled, unless Harry himself objects," Xavier said eagerly.

"Thank you, Charles. I think that concludes our business. Another cup of tea before you leave? Minerva, would you do the honours?"

After more tea, Dumbledore regarded his three guests. "I do have one more question, a trivial one, really. Can you tell me what, in the context of Portkey travel, would be the significance of the word 'energise'?"

It was touch and go, but Scott managed not to spill his tea.