Harry Potter: MageX

Harry felt it as soon as he touched Jean. Before he even realized what was happening: a massive wave of heat and energy, like someone had turned the dial on his entire life to "cosmic furnace" without warning. Then, darkness. Classic move, really—if you can't handle the heat, just let it knock you out. Simple logic.

When the lights flickered back on, Harry was pretty sure he was about to regret everything. He and Jean were standing in some kind of swirling, molten nightmare. The ground beneath them hissed and cracked like it had just been slapped by a thousand-degree oven. Above them, the air shimmered with orange and red light, and out of the flames, a massive, fiery bird took shape. It was like something out of a heavy metal album cover—wings spread wide, feathers made of flame, and eyes glowing like the sun had just taken a personal interest in them.

"Fantastic," Harry muttered, looking up at the fiery monstrosity. "Just what I needed today. A giant, flaming bird."

Jean, still holding onto Harry's hand like it was the only thing keeping her grounded, didn't look quite as casual about it. Her eyes were wide, her pulse quickening. Yeah, she was totally processing this at light speed, and from the way she was squeezing Harry's hand, it wasn't just because of the heat. There was something... more happening, something that felt like it was burning through her very soul.

The Phoenix's voice rumbled through the air, deep and ancient, like a cosmic DJ spinning a vinyl of the universe's oldest beats. "I am the Phoenix Force. I am creation and destruction. I have awakened because of your bond. You may call me... The Phoenix."

Harry glanced sideways at Jean. "You've gotta be kidding me," he said under his breath. "I don't even know what half of that means."

Jean, still holding his hand like her life depended on it (which, at this rate, it kind of did), looked up at the massive Phoenix and whispered, "I've felt you before. But I... I didn't know you were this."

The Phoenix's fiery feathers flickered like it was giving them a moment to process. "I amplify your powers. But with that amplification comes great risk. You must learn control, or you will be consumed by my power."

"Control, huh?" Harry said, doing his best to sound nonchalant, though inside he was starting to panic a little. He was really not built for cosmic space drama. "That's great. I'm pretty sure control is my middle name. Along with, uh... 'probably gonna fail spectacularly'."

Jean, still flush with heat but also determination (her expression was totally saying, no way am I letting this thing win), stepped forward. "What do you want from us?" she asked, her voice still carrying that soft edge of fear, but also a whole lot of grit.

The Phoenix's flames seemed to flicker, almost amused. "I have been with you, Jean Grey, since you were a child. When you lost your friend, Annie, and reached out in desperation... I was there. I've always been there."

Jean's face turned pale. "Annie..." she whispered, a deep ache returning to her heart. That was a wound that had never fully healed. "I... I've always wanted to save her. But I didn't know it was you."

The Phoenix's fiery gaze softened, just the tiniest bit. "The trauma opened a path to me, and I entered your mind, waiting. Your professor, Charles Xavier, placed blocks to protect you. But those blocks are weakening, Jean. Soon, I will be free. You must learn to wield my power—our power—together."

Harry, who felt like he'd just walked into a cosmic relationship drama that had way more emotional baggage than he was prepared for, finally cleared his throat. "Okay, hold up. I'm all for cosmic journeys and deep emotional stuff, but what does this mean for us? For me?"

The Phoenix's eyes flickered to him, and Harry could swear they were giving him a cosmic once-over. "It means both of you have the potential to become something greater than you can imagine. But only if you can control the power. Only if you can balance it within yourselves."

Jean's eyes were starting to glow faintly, and Harry could feel her heartbeat in his own. Whatever was happening here, it was big. Way bigger than either of them had ever expected.

Jean inhaled deeply, and Harry could tell she was working through something in her head. Okay, Jean. I know you're strong, but don't blow this up into a full-on cosmic meltdown, alright? He gave her hand a small squeeze.

"I'll do it," Jean said firmly, her voice clear and strong. "I accept. I'll be your vessel, Phoenix. But I won't let this power take over me. I won't let it control me."

The Phoenix's fiery wings flared with approval, the flames lighting up the entire dimension. "Then our journey begins, Jean Grey. Together, we will explore the vastness of existence."

Harry, who had no idea what the heck was going on, just stood there like an awkward third wheel. "Great. I'm just gonna... tag along, right?" he said, trying to make light of the entire situation.

The Phoenix gave him a cosmic eyebrow raise. "You are not just along for the ride, Harry Potter. You are a part of this. The connection between you and Jean is the key to unlocking everything."

Jean, her cheeks a little pinker than before, turned to Harry with an uncertain smile. "Looks like we're in this together."

"Yeah," Harry said, trying to pretend like this was totally fine and not the weirdest thing he'd ever experienced. "I guess the whole cosmic destruction thing is just, like, a minor inconvenience, right?"

Jean chuckled, despite everything. "Something like that."

With that, the Phoenix's flames swirled around them, filling the space with an overwhelming heat that wasn't quite burning, but still felt like it was shaking every atom in their bodies.

And Harry? He wasn't sure what the future held, but he knew one thing for sure: when it came to Jean and this huge cosmic force, he wasn't about to let go.

—

If Sirius Black had a Patronus that reflected his true personality, it wouldn't be a majestic dog. No, it'd probably be a peacock wearing sunglasses, lounging on a chaise, and holding a martini. This thought crossed Andromeda Tonks' mind as she watched her cousin throw himself into yet another round of roulette with the kind of swagger that made James Bond look underdressed.

"And that's another black!" the dealer announced, his voice straining to sound cheerful while beads of sweat formed on his temple. The man probably hadn't seen someone win this consistently since the casino opened.

"Ah, the universe loves me!" Sirius crowed, throwing his arms wide as if he were receiving applause from an adoring crowd instead of a scattering of mildly concerned tourists. He turned to Andromeda and winked. "Come on, Andy. You know you're impressed."

Andromeda, the picture of poise even when surrounded by neon chaos, sipped her martini with the slow deliberation of someone deeply regretting her life choices. Her dark eyes, sharp and calculating, narrowed at him. "Impressed? Sirius, you've been out of Azkaban for, what, a few weeks? And this—" she gestured to the mountain of chips that practically had its own zip code, "—is what you decide to do with your freedom?"

Sirius gasped in mock offense, clutching his chest as if she'd cursed him. "First of all, rude. Second, this is an investment. And third, it's Las Vegas, Andy. The only city where you can have a neon cowboy, an Elvis impersonator, and a pirate ship all on the same street. How could I resist?"

"You're impossible," she muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched as if she were suppressing a smile.

"Don't encourage him," came a voice from behind her. Ted Tonks, a handsome man whose easygoing demeanor was a sharp contrast to Sirius' theatrics, approached with a glass of bourbon. He gave his wife a conspiratorial grin. "You know he lives for the drama."

"And the winning," Sirius added, shooting the dealer a rakish smile as he slid a hefty stack of chips across the table. "Let it ride, mate."

Meanwhile, Nymphadora Tonks—because heaven forbid anyone forget her first name—was perched on a stool nearby, swirling a cocktail that was somehow both bright blue and smoking. Her hair had shifted from a bubblegum pink to a vibrant electric purple, which, frankly, matched the vibe of the city a little too well. "You do realize you're one win away from security coming over to 'have a little chat,' right?"

"Please," Sirius said, brushing her concern away like it was lint on his coat. "I've faced dementors, Death Eaters, and my mother's portrait. What's a muggle bouncer going to do? Glare at me sternly?"

Tonks snorted. "No, but I'd pay to see you try to talk your way out of a casino ban."

Sirius leaned in, his grin downright conspiratorial. "Don't worry, Dora. If things go south, I'll hex my way out. Or, better yet, I'll flirt my way out. Can't resist this face." He gestured to himself, and to his credit, he did look like he'd walked off the cover of a wizarding fashion magazine.

"Sweet Merlin, you're unbearable," Andromeda groaned, though her voice held a hint of amusement.

Then, just as Sirius reached for the roulette wheel again, his hand froze. His smile faltered. The change was subtle but instant, like someone had flipped a switch.

Andromeda noticed immediately. "What is it?"

Sirius didn't answer right away. His gray eyes darkened, and his usual flippant tone was replaced with something heavier. "I don't know," he said slowly, like he was testing the words before saying them aloud. "It's like... my godfather senses are tingling."

Tonks, halfway through her drink, nearly choked. "Your what now?"

"My godfather senses," Sirius repeated, dead serious (pun definitely intended). He straightened, his earlier bravado replaced by the kind of intensity that reminded everyone why he'd been a Marauder in the first place. "Something's happening with Harry."

Ted raised an eyebrow. "You sure it's not indigestion? You did eat three helpings of that weird buffet earlier."

Sirius shot him a look. "This is different."

Andromeda, always the pragmatist, crossed her arms. "Sirius, Harry is at the Institute. He's probably studying or playing Donkey Kong or doing whatever teenagers do. You're overreacting."

"Overreacting?" Sirius snapped, his voice rising. "The last time I ignored this feeling, Harry ended up living in a cupboard under the stairs with those awful Muggles. I won't let that happen again."

"You're being dramatic," Andromeda said.

"I'm Sirius," he shot back, throwing on his coat with a dramatic flourish. "And my godson needs me."

Tonks groaned, downing the rest of her cocktail. "Merlin's pants, we're actually doing this, aren't we?"

Ted sighed, already pulling out his wallet. "Let me guess—you want me to cover the bill?"

Sirius clapped him on the back. "You're a good man, Ted. A true gentleman."

And just like that, Sirius strode toward the exit, chips forgotten, coat billowing behind him like he was starring in an action movie. Andromeda, Tonks, and Ted exchanged weary looks before following.

"On the bright side," Tonks said as they left the casino, "this has to be more interesting than roulette."

And with that, the Black family circus was off to find Harry, leaving behind a very confused dealer, a stack of chips no one claimed, and a Las Vegas casino that would be talking about "the lucky Brit" for weeks.

—

Jean and Harry's world spun for a moment longer before it abruptly came to a halt. The fiery landscape they'd just been in—the one with the giant Phoenix and all the cosmic drama—faded like a bad dream being erased by the world's most powerful eraser. The heat lingered just a little longer, but it was gone now, leaving behind only the disorienting feeling of having experienced something monumental.

They found themselves on the floor of Jean's room, breathing heavily, like they'd just run a marathon through a lava field. The faint hum of her telepathic aura still buzzed in the back of Jean's mind, a reminder of the Phoenix's presence. She was still trying to process everything—everything. And she wasn't sure whether to be thrilled, terrified, or, honestly, a little overwhelmed by the sudden, cosmic weight of it all.

"Nice nap," Scott Summers' voice cut through the haze, and if looks could kill, Jean and Harry would've been reduced to ash. He was standing there like some sort of scowling, overworked older sibling who hadn't gotten his morning caffeine fix. His arms were crossed, his face a perfect blend of exasperation and disappointment. "While the rest of us were handling things, you two were... off in la-la land, huh?"

Harry, still trying to shake the last traces of cosmic energy from his system, blinked at Scott like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You seriously think now is the time for this?" He glanced at Jean, who was still picking herself up off the floor. Of course Scott would be in full-blown 'I'm the only one who can handle anything' mode. "Yeah, sorry about that, Scott. Next time I'll make sure to schedule my nap during the apocalypse, yeah?"

Scott's face tightened, and the air between them seemed to crackle with his classic mix of annoyance and way too much ego. "If you weren't so busy with your little hero act," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "maybe things wouldn't be so messy."

Jean, feeling the afterburn of the Phoenix's influence, felt her patience snap like a twig. She shot a glare at Scott that would've made a bear think twice about approaching. "Scott, seriously? Now is not the time for your attitude." Her voice was sharp, full of heat—though not the kind that made people sweat. This was the kind of heat that burned through you. "We've got bigger issues to deal with than your bruised ego."

Harry, still getting his bearings but very much aware of the rising tension, shifted to Jean's side and offered her a small, encouraging smile. He could tell she was still feeling the weight of the Phoenix's power, but the fiery flicker of determination in her eyes said she wasn't going to let it consume her. Not today. "Yeah," Harry said, trying to make light of it—though, really, he was just trying to keep it from getting too weird. "We'll deal with Scott's over-inflated sense of importance later. Let's focus on the whole 'cosmic force of destruction and rebirth' thing, yeah?"

Scott scowled, clearly not loving being ignored, but Jean was having none of it. She pulled herself together, wiping her palms on her jeans, her expression now one of pure resolve. "Harry's right. The Phoenix isn't exactly going to wait around while we sort out petty drama."

Jean's words hit like a hammer. She's right. And somehow, Harry found that strangely comforting. This was a level of mess he hadn't expected, but here they were—together, trying to piece things together while an actual cosmic entity was in their corner. Not the worst way to go, right?

Harry gave her a small, crooked smile. "That's the plan, then. We handle this Phoenix business, and we can figure the rest of it out... later. Together."

Jean, her cheeks still slightly flushed from the aftereffects of both the Phoenix and the entire situation, gave Harry a look—somewhere between gratitude and nervous energy. "Agreed," she said softly, though her voice carried a quiet strength that had Harry feeling like, maybe, they could actually do this. "We'll figure it out. One step at a time."

Scott, seeing that he was getting nowhere with his "tough guy" routine, let out an exaggerated sigh that sounded more like a groan than a sound of relief. "Fine. But don't expect me to keep covering for you two if you end up blowing up the planet."

Jean shot him one last glare, her eyes glowing just a little brighter than normal. "We've got this, Scott. Trust me."

Scott threw up his hands. "Yeah, okay. But if you two turn into cosmic beings of destruction, don't say I didn't warn you."

Harry just rolled his eyes. "No promises, Scott. But, for now, we'll keep it low-key." He gave Jean a wink. "No planet-ending just yet."

Jean couldn't help but smirk at the joke, even though her mind was still spinning with everything the Phoenix had said. It wasn't just about controlling power—it was about balance. And there was no way in hell she was going to let this get out of hand. Not while she had Harry by her side.

"We'll take it one step at a time," she said again, though this time it wasn't just a statement—it was a promise.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Harry actually believed it.

—

The door to Jean's room swung open with the dramatic flair of an action movie entrance. Professor Xavier, Ororo Munroe, Logan, and Hank McCoy practically charged in like the Avengers after a coffee-fueled brainstorming session. Their expressions were a chaotic mix of concern, relief, and the kind of frustration that only comes from dealing with teens who attract cosmic disasters like magnets.

"Are you both alright?" Professor Xavier asked, his tone calm but with enough authority to make anyone feel like they were about to get a heartfelt lecture. Only Charles Xavier could manage to sound both like a worried dad and a wise philosopher in one sentence.

Jean, still sitting cross-legged on the floor like she'd just finished meditating with a sentient firebird, glanced at Harry. Their shared look was somewhere between that was insane and do we need to talk about what just happened? There was also the tiniest hint of teen crush awkwardness, which neither of them was about to acknowledge out loud.

"Yes, Professor," Jean replied, her voice steady but tinged with the kind of exhaustion you only get after hosting a cosmic entity in your soul. "We're fine. Just... adjusting."

Harry, who was not fine but figured honesty might make things worse, gave a thumbs-up. "Totally fine. No big deal. Just met the Phoenix Force. No pressure or anything, though. It's apparently part of Jean—and, uh, me now, too." He paused, scratching the back of his neck. "So... we might need some help figuring out how not to, you know, accidentally blow up a city."

Professor Xavier's expression softened into the patented supportive mentor look. "We'll face this together," he said, his voice radiating calm reassurance. "You're not alone in this journey. None of you ever will be."

Logan snorted from the back of the group, leaning casually against the doorframe like he owned the room. A cigar was wedged between his teeth, and the faint scent of cheap tobacco followed him like a signature cologne. "Great," he muttered, exhaling a puff of smoke. "So now we've got a cosmic firebird hitching a ride in two teenagers. Perfect. What's next? Alien invasions? Time travel? Giant robots?" He shook his head, smirking. "Just don't expect me to babysit this mess. But if you need advice on surviving teenage drama—or poker—then maybe I'm your guy, bub."

"Logan," Ororo said sharply, her voice calm but with an edge that could slice through steel. She shot him a glare so frosty it could've put out his cigar on the spot. "Now is not the time for your cynicism." She turned to Jean and Harry, her regal presence immediately calming the chaos in the room. "Are you both truly alright?" she asked, her tone gentle but firm. "If there's anything we should know now, speak freely. I'd rather not summon a storm over a misunderstanding."

Jean straightened up a little, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "We're okay, Ororo," she said, her voice more confident now. "But this... this Phoenix thing is a lot. It's like this overwhelming force that's constantly there. It's not just in me—it's in Harry too." Her green eyes flickered with determination. "But I won't let it control me. I won't."

"Attagirl," Logan said, giving her an approving nod. "Just remember, kid—power like that doesn't play nice. It's gonna test you, push you. And if it gets outta hand..." He trailed off, his usual gruff demeanor softening slightly. "Just don't be afraid to ask for help, alright?"

Hank McCoy, who had been silently observing until now, adjusted his glasses and stepped forward with a thoughtful expression. "Fascinating," he mused, his voice carrying the weight of both a scholar and a scientist. "A cosmic entity capable of destruction and rebirth, bonded to not one but two individuals. The implications are staggering." He paused, tapping his chin. "I would very much like to run some tests—non-invasive, of course—to better understand this connection. Purely for scientific purposes."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Tests? Like, the kind where we sit in a lab and you poke us with things? Because I'm gonna be honest, Hank, that sounds way less fun than figuring this out on the fly."

"Non-invasive," Hank repeated with a patient smile. "I assure you, it's purely observational. For now."

Professor Xavier interrupted before Harry could protest further. "For now, rest is what you both need. We'll approach this carefully, together." His gaze settled on Jean, then Harry, his tone resolute. "Whatever challenges lie ahead, you're not facing them alone. The X-Men stand with you."

"Great," Logan muttered, rolling his eyes as he puffed on his cigar. "Because nothing says 'easy fix' like throwing the X-Men at it."

Ororo gave him another look that promised a very unpleasant thunderstorm if he didn't cut it out. "Logan," she said, her voice deceptively sweet, "perhaps you'd like to be the one to explain this situation to the rest of the team?"

Logan grumbled something unintelligible and waved her off. "Yeah, yeah, I'll play nice."

As the group began to disperse, the tension in the room slowly eased. Jean and Harry, still grappling with the weight of the Phoenix Force and their own tangled emotions, exchanged a brief look. This wasn't going to be easy—far from it. But with mentors like these (and, okay, maybe a little help from Logan's sarcastic commentary), they figured they'd survive. Probably.

One step at a time. One cosmic revelation at a time. One awkward teenage glance at a time.

—

The next morning, the common room of Xavier's mansion was abuzz with nervous energy. The X-Men had gathered like it was some kind of superhero intervention, all eyes on Harry and Jean. It was the kind of vibe where everyone was trying to act casual, but the tension in the room was thicker than Logan's Canadian accent.

Jean and Harry stood at the center, like two kids about to confess to breaking a priceless family heirloom. Jean, ever the picture of quiet strength, folded her arms across her chest, her red hair catching the morning sunlight streaming in through the window. Harry, meanwhile, shifted nervously, his hands in his pockets, glancing at Jean like she might suddenly sprout wings and fly away.

"Okay," Jean started, her voice calm but with a slight edge, like she was bracing for impact. "So, we need to talk about what happened last night."

Logan, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a cigar clenched between his teeth, raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess—cosmic trouble? You two kids pick that up on clearance, or was it gift-wrapped?"

Jean shot him a withering look, her green eyes sparking with enough intensity to make Logan straighten up just a little. "Logan, this is serious."

"Yeah, well, so's my cigar budget," Logan muttered, but he gestured for her to continue.

Jean took a deep breath, her voice steady. "The Phoenix Force—the cosmic entity tied to me since I was a kid—showed up last night. It's… it's part of me. And now it's part of Harry, too."

The room erupted into a flurry of murmurs and exchanged glances. Scott Summers, sitting at the edge of a couch with his jaw clenched, looked like he was torn between worry and frustration. "Part of Harry? How does that even work?"

Harry stepped in, trying to sound confident but mostly just hoping no one would start yelling. "Long story short? The Phoenix offered Jean a chance to be its vessel and explore the universe. She accepted, but some of its power decided to hitch a ride with me. Now we're both figuring out how to deal with it."

Scott's frown deepened. "So, let me get this straight—you're both connected to an insanely powerful cosmic entity that could destroy the planet if it gets out of control?"

"Pretty much," Harry replied, trying to keep things light. "On the bright side, we're saving on electricity bills."

"That's not funny," Scott snapped, his frustration bubbling over.

"Scott," Ororo Munroe interjected, her voice as calm and commanding as ever. She stepped forward, her striking silver hair flowing behind her like she was walking in slow motion. "This isn't the time for blame or fear. Jean and Harry need our support, not judgment."

Scott exhaled sharply but nodded, relenting under Ororo's steady gaze.

Rogue, lounging on the arm of a chair with her signature sass practically radiating off her, smirked. "Well, sugar, sounds like y'all got yourselves into a pickle. But hey, we've handled worse. Remember that time with the sentient broccoli aliens? Now that was weird."

Kitty Pryde, sitting cross-legged on the floor like the quintessential awkward best friend, chimed in, "And honestly, cosmic entities are kind of our thing, aren't they? I mean, we helped the Fantastic Four fight a guy who literally eats planets. Phoenix Force? Totally manageable."

Kurt Wagner, ever the optimist, leaned forward from where he perched on the back of a chair. His tail swished behind him, and his German accent made everything he said sound like a hopeful prayer. "Ja, and ve are a family, no? Ve vill face zis together. As long as ve have faith and each other, ve can overcome anything."

Susan Bones, who had somehow found herself in the middle of all this mutant drama despite just being a nice, normal wizard, gave Harry a shy smile. "I'm here for you," she said softly. "Both of you."

Professor Xavier finally spoke, his calm, authoritative voice cutting through the chatter like a knife. "Jean, Harry, you've shown incredible strength in the face of something that would terrify most people. We'll work together to understand and control this power. You're not alone in this."

"Great," Logan said, taking a long drag of his cigar. "So now we're a daycare for cosmic firebirds. Next thing you know, we'll be babysitting Galactus's kids."

"Logan," Ororo said sharply, her tone a warning.

"Relax, 'Ro. I'm just saying, if these two can handle that thing without blowing us all to kingdom come, they'll be fine."

Hank McCoy, who had been quietly observing from the corner, adjusted his glasses and stepped forward. "As fascinating as all of this is—and believe me, it's very fascinating—I think we should prioritize some tests. If we're going to help you, we'll need to understand exactly how the Phoenix Force has affected your abilities."

"Great," Jean said, her voice dry. "Because that sounds so relaxing."

Harry leaned toward her, whispering, "If he tries to stick us in one of those lab hamster wheels, I'm out."

Jean smirked despite herself. "Deal."

As the meeting wrapped up, the group began to disperse, each member carrying the weight of what lay ahead. Jean and Harry, standing side by side, exchanged a look that said they were ready for the challenges to come.

Because if there was one thing they'd learned from their new family of mutants, it was that they could handle anything—as long as they faced it together. Even cosmic firebirds.

—

The Danger Room hummed to life, glowing with an energy that said, "You're either about to learn something cool or get your butt kicked. Probably both." The sleek walls of the high-tech training space shimmered as holograms began to flicker into existence—hulking monsters, swirling tornadoes, and the kind of chaos that would make even video game bosses weep.

Harry and Jean stood at the center, looking equal parts determined and slightly terrified. Well, Harry mostly looked like he was mentally drafting his will, but hey, points for showing up. The rest of the team was clustered by the observation deck, buzzing with nervous energy like they were about to watch the finale of a reality show where someone got voted off the island via explosion.

Logan leaned against the wall, puffing on his cigar like it was the only thing keeping him from losing his mind. He gave Harry a gruff once-over, his eyes narrowing. "Alright, kid," he growled, his voice like gravel in a blender. "Show me what you've got. And for the love of all that's holy, don't go turning this place into a cosmic barbecue. I just got my boots fixed." He shot Jean a look that was equal parts concern and a very Logan-esque, "I told you so."

Jean, red hair glowing like it had its own spotlight (seriously, how did she always look so cinematic?), smirked. "Relax, Logan. I've got this." Her voice was calm but had that edge of fire she carried when she was in full Jean Grey: Girl Who Will Not Be Messed With mode. "And maybe if you stopped pacing like an angry grizzly, you wouldn't look like you're auditioning for Overbearing Dad: The Movie."

"Grizzly?" Logan snorted. "If I'm a grizzly, then you're a fire-breathing dragon. Keep it in check, Red."

Meanwhile, Rogue leaned back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, looking as cool as a superhero could in a leather jacket. "Y'all are actin' like this is the end of the world," she drawled in her sassy Southern accent. "It's just a little training. Ain't like Harry's gonna sprout wings and start singin' show tunes." She winked at Harry. "Though if ya do go full Disney Princess, sugar, let me know. I'd pay good money to see that."

Kitty, bouncing on the balls of her feet like a caffeinated puppy, chimed in. "This is gonna be so cool! I mean, you're basically about to become real-life video game characters. Just, uh, don't break the Danger Room. Again. I still haven't fixed the leaderboard from last time." She shot Hank a nervous glance.

"Don't worry," Hank said, adjusting his glasses in that super-intellectual, "I-know-everything-about-everything" way of his. "I've reinforced the simulations to handle the power surges. Although," he added, almost to himself, "the probability of catastrophic feedback is still 6.7%…"

"Comforting," Harry muttered, shooting Jean a sideways glance. "Ready to maybe not die today?"

"Always," Jean replied, flashing him a grin that could've powered a small country.

Scott, of course, had to make things weird. He stepped forward, arms crossed, looking like he was about to deliver the broodiest monologue of all time. "Let's just make one thing clear," he said, his voice dripping with that I'm-the-main-character energy. "Jean and I—we're connected. Soulmates. And if this Phoenix thing does anything to mess with that, we'll have a problem."

Jean sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Scott, for the last time, this is not a Nicholas Sparks novel."

"Oh, come on!" Scott protested. "I'm just saying—"

"Save it, Romeo," Rogue cut in, smirking. "Ain't nobody here got time for your melodrama."

Ororo stepped forward, her calm, regal presence instantly making everyone feel like they should stand up straighter. "Let's focus on what's important," she said, her voice smooth as silk but commanding. "Jean, Harry, you have our support. Whatever challenges you face, we will overcome them—together." She placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, her gaze steady. "You're stronger than you realize, Harry. Trust in yourself."

"Thanks, Storm," Harry said, swallowing the lump in his throat. If Ororo believed in him, then maybe—just maybe—he wouldn't completely mess this up.

Kurt appeared next to Harry in a puff of blue smoke, startling him so badly he nearly jumped out of his boots. "Do not worry, my friend," Kurt said, his German accent thick but warm. "If you blow up the room, I will teleport us to safety. Probably. Maybe."

"Very reassuring, Kurt," Harry deadpanned.

Finally, Professor Xavier rolled forward, his presence quiet but powerful. "This is an opportunity to understand the changes you're undergoing," he said, his tone patient and wise. "Remember, we are here to guide you. There is no failure here—only learning."

As the Danger Room's simulations roared to life, Harry and Jean stepped forward, side by side. Monsters charged. Tornadoes swirled. And somewhere in the back, Logan muttered, "Here we go."

But despite the chaos, there was an unshakable sense of unity in the room. Because that's what the X-Men did—they faced the impossible together, one snarky comment at a time.

---

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