The hallway was tense, silent but for the faint hum of psychic energy radiating from Jean Grey. Her hair rippled as if caught in a fiery, otherworldly breeze, and the faint shimmer of a golden aura danced around her figure. The X-Men stood frozen, unsure of how to proceed as the Phoenix began to stir.
Scott Summers raised a hand abruptly, stopping Rogue in her tracks as she moved to approach Jean. His jaw was tight, his signature laser-focused expression masking the growing fear gnawing at his insides. "No. Don't get too close," he warned, his voice low but firm. "She's not... stable."
Rogue, ever defiant, scoffed, planting her hands on her hips. "Well, we can't just leave her standin' there, glowin' like a Christmas tree about to blow a fuse, can we?" Her Southern drawl carried an edge of irritation, but her emerald eyes betrayed her concern.
"Rogue, please," Scott snapped, his voice clipped as his eyes stayed locked on Jean. "This isn't the time for sarcasm."
From the corner, Kitty Pryde peeked out nervously, hugging the wall. "Uh, guys? I'm not a psychic or anything, but I'm pretty sure this is bad. Like, really bad." Her voice cracked slightly, and her thick German accent made her words sound even more rushed. "Shouldn't we, like, I don't know, do something before she burns the school down?"
"Kitty, I know," Scott said sharply, not taking his eyes off Jean. "But we can't rush in blind. We need backup." He turned his head just slightly toward Kurt, who stood frozen beside him. "Kurt. Go. Now. Get the Professor and Logan. Tell them it's an emergency."
"Ja, ja, ich gehe!" Kurt stammered, nodding quickly. He glanced once more at Jean, her glowing eyes filled with pain, before vanishing with a bamf, the smell of sulfur lingering in his wake.
Rogue stepped forward, her boots clicking against the tiled floor. "Look, Ah get it, Boy Scout. You like your plans all neat an' tidy. But Jean's in pain, and she's our friend. If anyone can talk her down, it's us."
Scott hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Fine," he muttered, gesturing for her to go ahead. "But stay back. If it gets worse—"
"If?" Kitty interrupted, her voice climbing an octave. "Scott, it's already worse! Look at her!"
Jean, who had been trembling with her head bowed, suddenly looked up. Her eyes blazed with molten gold, and her voice echoed unnaturally, layered with something ancient and furious. "You don't understand," she growled, her tone both pleading and menacing. "It's inside me... screaming... burning... and I can't stop it."
Rogue stepped closer, her voice softening. "Jean, Ah know you're scared, sugar. Ah can see it in your eyes. But you gotta fight it. You're stronger than this."
"Stronger?" Jean's laugh was bitter, her tone almost mocking. "You think I'm strong enough to fight this?" She clutched her head as the Phoenix roared within her. "It's not just power. It's... hunger. It wants everything. It wants to burn!"
Scott clenched his fists, his heart breaking at the sight of her. He stepped closer, his voice gentle but commanding. "Jean, listen to me. You're not alone. We're here for you, but you have to let us help. You're the strongest person I know. You can fight this."
Jean's gaze snapped to him, her eyes narrowing. "Scott, you don't get it!" she shouted, her voice cracking. "This isn't something you can fix with one of your plans or your stupid speeches!"
Kitty winced, muttering under her breath, "Okay, ouch. She didn't have to go for the throat."
"Kitty, not helping!" Scott barked, barely glancing her way. "Jean, please. You have to try."
For a moment, it seemed like his words were getting through. Jean's breathing slowed, and the fiery aura around her dimmed slightly. But then, as if sensing her hesitation, the Phoenix surged, and Jean cried out, doubling over as golden flames erupted around her. The heat in the hallway skyrocketed, forcing the others to step back.
"Scott!" Kitty screamed, phasing halfway through the wall in her panic. "She's gonna blow!"
"Jean!" Scott shouted over the roar of power, his voice desperate. "Fight it! You're stronger than this!"
Before he could say more, a golden portal appeared behind them, its edges glowing with radiant light. The sudden surge of energy made everyone freeze, their attention shifting to the shimmering vortex.
A figure stepped through, his presence commanding and otherworldly. He was tall, over six feet, clad in resplendent red and gold armor that seemed both ancient and futuristic. A flowing red cape billowed behind him, and his face was obscured by a sleek, angular mask that exuded regality and power.
The figure surveyed the scene, his voice deep and steady as he spoke. "I am the Revenant," he said, his tone carrying an undeniable authority. "I'm here to help."
Scott immediately moved to shield the others, his hand hovering over his visor. "Help? Who are you? And how do we know you're not here to make things worse?"
Revenant raised his gauntleted hands in a gesture of peace. "I understand your caution, Cyclops. But I'm not your enemy. I've felt the Phoenix stir, and I came as quickly as I could. If we don't act now, she will lose control—and the consequences will be catastrophic."
Rogue tilted her head, scrutinizing him with suspicion. "An' why should we trust you, shiny pants? What makes you the expert on the Phoenix?"
Revenant's gaze shifted to Jean, who was trembling on the verge of collapse. "Because I've been where she is," he said softly. "I know what it's like to be consumed by the Phoenix, to feel its fire burning through every fiber of your being. But I also know it can be controlled. It doesn't have to win."
Jean's glowing eyes locked onto him, her voice shaking. "Who... who are you?"
"I'm someone who understands what you're going through," Revenant replied, stepping closer. "And I'm here to make sure the Phoenix doesn't take you away from the people who love you."
Scott hesitated, his mind racing. He glanced at Rogue, who gave him a small shrug, then at Kitty, who was peeking out nervously from behind the wall.
Finally, he nodded stiffly. "Fine. But if you try anything—"
"I won't," Revenant assured him. He extended a hand toward Jean, his voice softening. "Jean, listen to me. You're stronger than this. You have the power to control the Phoenix, not the other way around. Trust me. I can help you."
Jean stared at him, tears streaming down her glowing face. Her lips trembled as she whispered, "Help me. Please."
Revenant nodded, his voice filled with quiet determination. "You're not alone. We'll face this together."
As his hand hovered near hers, the fiery aura around her began to waver, the oppressive heat subsiding slightly. But the Phoenix was far from defeated, and the battle was only just beginning.
—
Charles Xavier sat in his office, staring blankly at the chessboard in front of him. His fingers hovered over the pieces, trembling ever so slightly. The confrontation with the Phoenix still echoed in his mind, the searing voice of the cosmic entity resonating deep within his psyche. He hadn't fully shaken the image of those fiery wings, the laughter that mocked his every effort to shield Jean from what she was becoming.
"What have I done?" he whispered aloud, his voice cracking. He clenched his fists, gripping the arms of his wheelchair as if grounding himself would stop the whirlwind of guilt and fear tearing through him.
The sharp scent of sulfur broke his thoughts, followed by the unmistakable bamf of displaced air. Smoke curled into the room as Kurt Wagner materialized in front of his desk. His golden eyes were wide, his blue furred tail flicking nervously behind him. His usual carefree demeanor was gone, replaced by frantic urgency.
"Professor!" Kurt's voice cracked, his thick German accent more pronounced in his panic. He was panting, leaning heavily on the desk as if he had sprinted across the school instead of teleporting. "Jean! She's—it's bad, really bad!"
Charles straightened in his chair, his hands tightening on the armrests. "Kurt," he said firmly, trying to keep his voice calm even as his heart raced. "Take a deep breath and tell me what's going on."
"I—I tried!" Kurt stammered, his words tumbling out in a panicked rush. "She's at Bayville High, Professor! She's floating above the football field like some kind of—of goddess or something! The sky is red, there's fire everywhere, and I tried to get close, but I couldn't! It was like she was burning, but not just with fire—it's something else! She's going to blow up the whole school!"
Before Charles could respond, the door to his office was shoved open with enough force to slam into the wall. Logan stormed in, his shoulders tense, his boots thudding heavily against the floor. His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air, his sharp eyes darting between Kurt and Charles. He looked ready for a fight—and not the kind he could walk away from unscathed.
"What's going on?" Logan demanded, his voice low and gravelly. His eyes locked onto Xavier, narrowing as he caught the tension in the professor's usually composed demeanor. "Something's wrong with Jean, isn't it?"
"Ja!" Kurt cut in, waving his arms wildly. "She's at the school, Herr Logan! People are screaming, running away—she's going to hurt someone, maybe everyone! We have to go now!"
Logan growled under his breath, his jaw tightening. He turned back to Xavier, his expression hard. "Alright, Chuck. Spill. What the hell's happening with Jean? Did you go poking around in her head?"
Xavier inhaled deeply, steeling himself. "It's not that simple, Logan," he said, his voice low but steady. "This is more than Jean losing control. There's… something inside her. Something ancient, powerful—something I've tried to protect her from for years. But it's breaking free."
Logan's brow furrowed. "You're saying this is on you?" His tone carried more accusation than question, his frustration clear. "Damn it, Chuck. If you knew this was coming, why didn't you tell us sooner? We could've—"
"There was nothing you could've done!" Xavier snapped, his voice sharper than usual. He took a breath, forcing himself to calm down. "Logan, please. I did everything I could to protect her, but this—this is beyond any of us."
"Well, isn't that just great," Logan muttered, raking a hand through his thick hair. "Alright, fine. We'll play the blame game later. Right now, we've got a kid about to turn a high school into a crater. What's the plan?"
Xavier nodded, grateful for Logan's pragmatism, even if his tone grated. "Kurt," he said, turning to the young mutant. "Can you get us close to her? Somewhere nearby where we can assess the situation without drawing her attention immediately?"
Kurt hesitated, his tail curling nervously. "I—I can try," he stammered. "But it's hard to get close to her. The energy around her—it's like a wall! I could barely bamf out of there without getting roasted!"
"You'll manage," Logan said gruffly, clapping a heavy hand on Kurt's shoulder. The younger mutant flinched slightly but nodded, swallowing hard.
"Logan," Xavier continued, his tone serious. "We have to approach this carefully. Jean may not recognize us—she may not even recognize herself. Whatever is happening to her, it's beyond her control. She needs us to be calm, to be a steady presence."
"Yeah, yeah," Logan muttered, popping the knuckles of one hand as his claws itched to extend. "I get it. Don't gut the kid. Let's just hope she doesn't fry us before we get a word in."
Xavier's lips tightened into a thin line, but he didn't bother responding. Time was of the essence.
Kurt extended his hands, one gripping the arm of Xavier's wheelchair and the other grabbing Logan's arm. "Hold on tight," he said, his voice trembling but resolute. "I'll get us as close as I can."
With a sharp bamf, the three vanished, leaving only the faint scent of brimstone behind. Their destination: Bayville High School, where the storm of Jean Grey's power threatened to consume everything in its path.
—
The sharp bamf of sulfuric smoke and a swirl of shadows announced their arrival near the football field. The sky was a nightmare—a deep, angry red streaked with pulsating ribbons of fire that seemed to mirror the psychic storm ripping through the air. Even from this distance, Charles could feel the overwhelming torrent of Jean's emotions, her power surging unchecked like a dam about to burst.
"Professor!" Scott's voice rang out, frantic, as he sprinted toward them. His visor gleamed ominously in the red glow, but the worry etched into his face was unmistakable. "I've been trying to reach her, but she's not responding. It's like… like she doesn't even know I'm there anymore."
"She's in pain," Xavier said, his voice calm but tinged with concern. "The Phoenix Force—"
Scott cut him off. "And then he showed up." He gestured sharply toward the field, where the stranger stood. "I don't know who he is, but she's—she's listening to him! I don't get it."
"Ja, 'listening' is putting it lightly," Kitty chimed in, her words hurried, her thick German accent curling around the edges. She tugged at her ponytail anxiously. "Like, he just appeared, ja? Out of nowhere! I mean, who does that?"
"You do," Rogue pointed out with a wry drawl, her Southern accent thick as molasses. She crossed her arms and nodded toward the field, her green eyes narrowing. "But yeah, Ah'll give it to ya—this guy? He's got presence. That cape is workin', but Ah still don't trust him."
Xavier's gaze followed theirs. The man they were referring to stood tall and commanding, his red and gold armor gleaming against the hellish backdrop. His cape, with its high collar, shifted slightly, as if responding to the chaos around him. His hands were raised in a calming gesture as he spoke to Jean, his tone firm yet soothing.
Jean hovered several feet off the ground, flames still licking around her form, but the destructive blasts had stopped. Her expression, however, was wild—conflicted, angry, terrified. She clutched her head, muttering under her breath, the Phoenix's fire clawing for control.
"She's calming down, Charles," Kitty said hopefully. "Like, a little, right? You see it?"
"Ah dunno," Rogue muttered, her voice laced with skepticism. "Looks to me like she's just windin' up for the next explosion."
Logan growled low in his throat, his instincts already kicking in. "Don't like it. Don't like him. Whoever this joker is, he ain't one of us."
"Logan," Xavier started, his tone sharp. "Wait—"
But Logan had already started moving, claws unsheathing with that familiar metallic snikt. His gait was purposeful, his growl guttural as he muttered, "Don't know who ya are, bub, but ya picked the wrong day to play hero."
"Logan, no!" Xavier called out, his voice urgent now. "He's—"
"Not my problem," Logan growled back, breaking into a sprint. The feral snarl on his face deepened as he launched himself toward the armored figure, claws aimed for his chest. "Get away from her!"
The man turned slightly, as though sensing Logan's approach. He didn't flinch, didn't even move, until the last possible moment. Then, with a sharp clang, Logan's claws were intercepted mid-swing—caught by three claws extending from the stranger's gauntlet.
The two men locked in place, claws grinding against one another in a shower of sparks. Logan's weight bore down on him, but the stranger didn't budge. If anything, he looked almost… bored.
"Nice try," the man said dryly, his British accent cutting through the tension like a blade. "But you're going to need more than that."
"Who the hell are you?" Logan snarled, his teeth bared.
The man smirked. "Someone who knows how to play nice. You should try it sometime."
Then, as if to drive the point home, he pushed Logan back effortlessly. Logan stumbled but recovered quickly, his glare intensifying.
"Logan, stop!" Xavier called, wheeling closer to the field. His voice carried a note of urgency. "He's not attacking her. He's helping."
"Helping?" Logan spat. "Didn't ask for his help." He jabbed a clawed finger toward the stranger. "And since when do you wear fancy claws? You copyin' me now?"
The man's claws retracted smoothly, disappearing back into his gauntlet. He raised an eyebrow. "Vibranium, not Adamantium," he corrected with a touch of smugness. "And unlike you, mine don't need sharpening."
Logan's growl deepened, but before he could lunge again, the man's helmet rippled like liquid, peeling back to reveal his face. His sharp features and green eyes were instantly recognizable to Xavier, and he froze.
"You," Charles breathed.
Harry Potter tilted his head, his smirk returning. "Hello, Charles. It's been a while."
Logan looked between them, his claws still out. "You know this guy?"
Xavier's voice was tight. "We've… crossed paths before."
"Crossed paths?" Harry echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Interesting choice of words. Though I suppose trying to break into my mind counts as 'crossing paths.'" He turned back to Logan with an exaggerated wince. "Terrible first impression, by the way."
"Professor?" Scott asked, his voice cutting through the tension. "Who is this guy?"
"He's…" Charles hesitated, still grappling with the shock. "He's Harry Potter. A very powerful… individual."
Harry's smirk softened into something more serious as he turned his attention back to Jean. "We can play catch-up later, Charles. Right now, she needs help."
Jean's voice broke through the tense moment, trembling but forceful. "Get… out… of my head!" Her flames flared, and Harry took a step forward, raising his hands again.
"Jean," he said, his tone steady and grounding, "listen to me. You're not alone in this. You don't have to be afraid of it."
Her fiery gaze locked onto him, flickering with uncertainty. "Who… who are you?"
Harry smiled gently, the calm in his eyes cutting through the chaos. "Someone who's been where you are. And someone who's not leaving until you're okay."
—
Meanwhile, at Bayville High, the Brotherhood of Mutants arrived, though they had missed the entire spectacle by mere moments. Pietro Maximoff, a blur of silver hair and kinetic energy, was practically vibrating with impatience, his legs almost moving before his mind could catch up.
"Just once, I'd like to be on time," Pietro muttered, shaking his head as he skidded to a stop in front of the empty football field. "I'm the fastest guy in the world, and I still manage to miss everything."
Behind him, Blob lumbered forward, his hefty frame causing the ground to tremble with each step. "I don't get it," he grunted, peering around at the aftermath. "This place looks like it was hit by a freakin' tornado. Where'd everyone go?"
Toad, with his trademark tongue flicking out and a scowl on his face, crouched down, running his hands through the scattered debris. "There's nothing left. No fight, no people... not even a sign of where they went. What gives?"
Lance Alvers, known as Avalanche, frowned as he surveyed the scene. "Something's not right here. This isn't just a random wreckage. This feels... controlled. Like someone wanted us to find this." His eyes narrowed, scanning the surroundings.
Mystique, disguised as the ever-calm Principal Darkhölme, stepped out of the shadows, her keen eyes quickly taking in the chaos. Her mouth twisted into a displeased frown. "Of course... this whole mess and no one to tell us what happened. Who did this?"
Pietro threw up his hands in frustration. "Don't look at me! I ran as fast as I could, and guess what? Nothing!" He paused, rubbing his chin. "Well, except a strange glow in the air, and that's pretty much it. So, unless you've got a superpower that lets you talk to the ground, I've got nothing."
Mystique didn't reply immediately. Instead, her gaze turned cold as she started to walk around, carefully inspecting the wreckage. "This isn't just some random mutant fight. Whatever happened here, it was too big to be ignored. And we need to find out what."
"Yeah, but we missed it," Blob added, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "What now? Do we just go back and pretend like we didn't almost catch the action?"
Toad shrugged. "At least we know it's not just some mutant showdown. You saw the sky, Blob? It was... burning red. Weird stuff's going down."
Mystique raised a hand, cutting off the chatter. "Enough. We don't have time for excuses. Pietro, go check the surrounding area. Lance, use your powers—see if you can find any traces of what happened here. The rest of you, keep your eyes peeled. We'll find out what really went down, and when we do, we'll make sure we're in a position to take advantage of it."
Pietro grumbled but nodded. In a blur, he was gone, leaving nothing but the faint hum of his speed in the air. Blob and Toad followed Mystique's orders, slowly beginning to fan out and search the perimeter.
"I don't like this, Mystique," Blob muttered as he trudged toward the edge of the field. "Feels too... clean for a fight."
Mystique smirked, her eyes glinting with suspicion. "That's because this wasn't a fight. This was something else entirely. And it's time we found out exactly who else was involved."
As the team spread out, the sounds of their footsteps mixed with the growing silence around them. The only sign of recent activity was the strange shimmer of energy that lingered in the air, but it was quickly dissipating. Mystique's thoughts were already moving, calculating, and she knew that whatever had caused this was only the beginning of something far more dangerous. Something that had far more to do with their next move than they realized.
"Let's hope we're not too late," she muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the horizon.
Back at the mansion, as Harry and the X-Men settled in for their conversation, none of them knew that the real danger was far from over—and their enemies were already closing in, just out of sight.
—
The fiery maelstrom around Jean had dwindled to a soft, flickering glow, her levitation faltering as Harry's calm, measured voice wove through the chaos. Each word seemed to act as a tether, anchoring her in the storm of her own mind.
"You're stronger than this, Jean," Harry said firmly, his tone carrying a warmth that felt at odds with the dangerous situation. "This power doesn't own you. It's a part of you, but it doesn't define who you are. You're Jean Grey. You're not just the Phoenix. Now breathe. Focus. Come back to us."
Jean's fiery eyes, flickering with doubt and anguish, met his. "I can't... it's too much..." Her voice cracked, barely audible over the remnants of the chaos. "It's not like... like fighting a bad guy. It's in me. It is me..."
Harry stepped closer, ignoring the residual heat and the occasional crackle of flame licking the air between them. His green eyes never wavered from hers. "You've fought tougher battles than this, Jean. You've stood up for your friends, faced danger, and saved lives. This? This is just another fight. And guess what? You don't have to do it alone. You've got your team. You've got your family. Lean on them."
The fiery aura around her dimmed further, the oppressive heat receding into cool air. Slowly, Jean's feet touched the ground, her body trembling from exhaustion as the last embers of the Phoenix flickered out. She started to collapse, but Harry moved swiftly, catching her in his arms before she hit the ground.
Her head lolled against his chest, her breathing shallow but steady. The fiery intensity of the Phoenix had vanished, leaving behind a young woman who looked almost fragile.
"Jean!" Scott's panicked voice broke through the quiet, and he sprinted across the field toward them. His visor reflected the last traces of the fading chaos, his expression twisting with worry. "Is she okay?" His voice cracked as he stopped in front of Harry, hands hovering awkwardly as though unsure whether to grab her or not.
"She's fine," Harry said calmly, adjusting Jean in his arms. "She just needs rest. The Phoenix took a toll on her."
Scott frowned, his jaw clenching as he looked between Jean and Harry. "I should've been able to help her," he muttered, his voice laced with frustration. "She's my—" He cut himself off, his fists balling tightly. "She's on my team."
Harry's brow arched, his gaze steady but not unkind. "And sometimes being a leader means knowing when to step back and let someone else take the weight, Summers. This wasn't about you. It was about her."
Scott opened his mouth to retort but stopped when the others arrived, their expressions a mix of awe and relief.
"That was, like, totally insane," Kitty said, her voice trembling with lingering adrenaline. She looked between Harry and Jean, eyes wide. "You just, like, walked right up to her and—boom—no more flaming death vibes! Are you, like, a wizard or something?"
Kurt tilted his head, his tail flicking behind him as he observed Harry with curiosity. "Ja, und who are you, exactly? I've never seen anyone handle zhe situation like zhat. Not even Professor Xavier."
Rogue crossed her arms, her green eyes narrowing as she gave Harry a once-over. "Yeah, sugar, you just came strollin' in here all calm-like, like ya had the whole thing figured out. You some kinda cosmic babysitter, or you just got a death wish?" Her Southern drawl dripped with sass, but her smirk betrayed her intrigue.
Harry smirked, his tone nonchalant as he replied, "Let's just say I've dealt with my fair share of angry, flame-powered entities before. This isn't exactly new territory for me."
Logan snorted, stepping forward with his signature gruffness. "You've got a real knack for showin' up like you own the place, bub. But if you think I'm just gonna roll over and let you play hero—"
Harry cut him off with a grin that bordered on cocky. "Good thing I'm not looking for your approval, Logan."
Before Logan could growl a retort, Xavier's voice cut through the rising tension, calm and authoritative. "Enough, all of you." The Professor wheeled closer, his expression thoughtful as his sharp blue eyes studied Harry. "We need to get Jean somewhere safe to rest. And it seems we owe you our thanks, Harry."
Harry shrugged, still holding Jean with surprising ease. "No need for thanks. Just doing what needed to be done." He turned to the group of teens and added, "By the way, you lot—Scott, Kitty, Kurt, Rogue—you've earned yourselves a day off after all this excitement. No more classes today."
Kitty's eyes lit up like Christmas morning. "Wait, seriously? No school? Best. Day. Ever!"
Kurt grinned, his fangs flashing as his tail swayed happily. "I like him already!"
Rogue raised a skeptical brow but couldn't suppress a smirk. "Ah'll take it. Beats sittin' through algebra, that's for sure."
Scott, however, frowned, his arms crossing defensively. "Wait a second, you can't just—"
Harry cut him off with a raised hand. "Relax, Summers. Consider it a mental health day. You'll thank me later."
With a flick of his wrist, Harry conjured a swirling portal of golden energy. The edges crackled with power as it expanded, revealing the polished wood floors and warm lighting of Xavier's office.
"Follow me," Harry said, stepping through with Jean still cradled in his arms. "Let's have this conversation somewhere more comfortable."
The group hesitated for a moment before Xavier nodded. "You heard him. Let's go."
One by one, they stepped through the portal, their awe and curiosity growing with each step. Logan was the last to follow, muttering under his breath, "Fancy portals, fancy claws... What's next? This guy's got a private jet, too?"
As the portal closed behind them, they found themselves in the familiar surroundings of Xavier's office. Harry gently laid Jean on the couch, tucking a blanket over her as Xavier used his telekinesis to float it into place.
Turning to the group, Harry's smirk faded, his tone growing more serious. "Alright," he said, his emerald eyes scanning the room. "Let's talk about the Phoenix—and how we're going to stop it from torching the next town."
—
The atmosphere in Xavier's office was heavy with tension. Harry leaned against the edge of the desk, his arms crossed, his emerald-green gaze steady as he surveyed the room. Jean lay unconscious on the couch, her breaths even but shallow. The team—Scott, Kitty, Rogue, Kurt, Logan, and Xavier himself—stood or sat nearby, their expressions a mixture of exhaustion, confusion, and frustration.
"I know this is hard to hear," Harry began, his voice calm but firm, "but this entire Phoenix situation? It didn't start today. It's been brewing for years. And it started because of a choice Xavier made."
Scott's head snapped up, his expression immediately shifting from worry to anger. "What are you talking about?" he demanded, stepping forward, his fists clenched. "Don't you dare pin this on the Professor! He's done nothing but protect Jean—protect all of us—from the beginning!"
Harry held his ground, his gaze unwavering. "I'm not trying to villainize him, Summers. But facts are facts. Ask him yourself."
All eyes turned to Xavier, who looked deeply troubled. He took a slow breath, his fingers steepled as he composed himself. "Harry is correct," Xavier admitted, his voice quiet but carrying the weight of authority. "I... I made a mistake. One I deeply regret."
Scott froze, his expression a mix of disbelief and betrayal. "What?"
Xavier sighed, wheeling himself closer to the group. "Years ago, when I first met Jean, she was only a child. She had just experienced the traumatic death of her best friend, Annie. She watched her die, unable to save her, and that event triggered the emergence of Jean's mutation."
"Her telepathy," Rogue said, her Southern drawl thick with curiosity and a touch of skepticism. "Ah heard she had trouble controllin' it back then."
"More than trouble," Xavier admitted. "Jean was completely overwhelmed. She could hear the thoughts of everyone around her—loud, chaotic, intrusive. And amidst all that noise, I sensed something... foreign within her mind. A presence, ancient and powerful, stirring in response to her awakening abilities."
Logan, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, narrowed his eyes. "And let me guess, Chuck—you decided to meddle."
Xavier's jaw tightened. "I was afraid of what that presence might be. I thought I was protecting her—and everyone else. So I made the decision to seal off that part of her mind. I created psychic barriers to suppress the presence and Jean's memories of it. I believed it was the right thing to do at the time."
Scott's anger boiled over. He stepped forward, pointing an accusing finger at Xavier. "You did what?! You messed with her mind—sealed away part of who she is—and you didn't think that might have consequences?!"
"Scott," Xavier began, his tone gentle but firm, "please understand—"
"No, you don't get to tell me to calm down!" Scott shouted, his visor glowing faintly as his emotions threatened to unleash his optic blasts. "You're supposed to help us, guide us—not mess with our heads! How could you do this to her?"
Logan pushed off the wall, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "The kid's got a point, Chuck. You don't just go rootin' around in someone's brain like that. You're supposed to be the guy who respects people's choices, their free will. What you did? That's not protection—that's control. And now look where it's gotten us."
Xavier looked pained, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before he met Logan's eyes. "I thought I was helping her, Logan. I didn't fully understand what I was dealing with at the time. The presence within Jean—it's not simply a part of her mutation. It's something far greater, far more dangerous. I... I was afraid."
Kitty, who had been sitting quietly, spoke up, her voice hesitant. "Wait, so, like, this Phoenix thing has been in Jean since she was a kid? And you just... locked it away? That's, uh, kind of a big deal, Professor."
Rogue crossed her arms, her emerald eyes narrowing. "A big deal? Try a monumental screw-up, Kitty. Ah mean, how'd ya think this was gonna end, Professor? Secrets like this always come back to bite ya."
Harry, who had been watching the exchange silently, finally spoke. "And now it's awake. That's the reality we're dealing with. The Phoenix is a cosmic entity, one of the most powerful forces in existence. Suppressing it didn't get rid of it—it just made it more volatile. And now Jean's caught in the middle of it all."
Scott looked at Harry, his voice shaking with barely restrained anger. "And what gives you the right to come here and say all this? What makes you think you know her better than we do?"
"I don't," Harry said simply. "But I know what it's like to have power you didn't ask for, to be manipulated by people who think they know what's best for you. Jean deserves the truth. All of it."
Logan's eyes flicked to Xavier, his voice heavy with disdain. "You got somethin' to say to that, Chuck? Or are you just gonna sit there and hope this all blows over?"
Xavier closed his eyes briefly, exhaling slowly. "Harry is right. Jean deserves the truth. I made a grave mistake, and I must take responsibility for it. But we don't have time to dwell on my failings. Our priority now is helping Jean regain control and ensuring the Phoenix doesn't consume her—or anyone else."
The room fell silent, the weight of Xavier's words settling over everyone.
Finally, Logan broke the silence, his tone gruff but with a hint of grudging respect. "Fine. But if we're gonna fix this, you'd better let her be the one callin' the shots from now on, Chuck. No more secrets, no more mind games. Got it?"
Xavier nodded solemnly. "Agreed."
Harry straightened, his expression resolute. "Then let's get to work. The Phoenix is still out there, and it's not going to wait for us to figure this out. If we want to help Jean, we need to act fast—and as a team."
Despite the lingering tension, the team exchanged determined glances. Whatever challenges lay ahead, they knew one thing: they weren't giving up on Jean. Not now, not ever.
---
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