If someone had told Harry Potter six months ago that he'd spend Christmas morning getting poked, prodded, and tested by adults who wanted to make sure his alien symbiote wasn't going to turn him into a world-ending threat, he would have laughed. Then again, six months ago he hadn't expected to bond with an alien that made him look like a dragon-themed superhero, so clearly his life planning needed work.
The Danger Room looked like someone had crossed a NASA laboratory with a gladiator arena and then added enough holographic projectors to make movie studios weep with envy. Which was typical Xavier's School overkill—why have a simple training room when you could have a reality-bending technological marvel?
In the observation booth, the adults had arranged themselves like judges at the world's most dangerous talent show. Professor Charles Xavier sat at the central console, his fingers dancing across controls with the practiced ease of someone who'd been testing superhuman teenagers since before most of them were born. His bald head gleamed under the booth lights, and his expression carried that particular mix of pride and concern that meant someone was about to do something impressive and potentially catastrophic.
"Well," Professor Xavier said in that crisp British accent that made everything sound both authoritative and slightly amused, "shall we begin the enhancement assessment? I confess I'm quite curious to see what our young charges have accomplished with their new... partnerships."
Logan stood behind him, arms crossed, looking like a man who'd rather be anywhere else but was too professional to abandon his post. His weathered face wore the expression of someone watching teenagers with alien enhancements and wondering why he hadn't chosen a safer profession, like bomb disposal.
"Let's just get this over with," Logan growled, his Canadian accent rough with morning grumpiness. "The sooner we know what these kids can do, the sooner we can figure out how to keep them from accidentally destroying the mansion."
Storm stood near the weather controls, her white hair cascading over her shoulders as she monitored atmospheric readings. "The environmental systems are ready," she said in that calm, measured voice that suggested she could summon a hurricane but was choosing not to. "Though I suspect we'll need them."
Hank McCoy had claimed the scientific monitoring station, his blue fur neat despite the early hour. Multiple screens displayed biological data that would have made medical researchers weep with professional envy. "The biosignatures alone are fascinating," he said, adjusting his glasses. "Enhanced muscle density, improved bone structure, accelerated neural processing—and that's merely what we can observe externally."
In the corner, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin flanked the observation windows like concerned parents at a school play where their kid might accidentally set something on fire. Sirius, looking like a movie star who'd decided to become a teacher, ran a hand through his dark hair.
"This is either going to be brilliant or catastrophic," Sirius said with the kind of grin that suggested he was hoping for brilliant but prepared for catastrophic.
"Knowing Harry," Remus replied dryly, his scarred face creased with fond exasperation, "it'll be both."
Natasha Romanoff occupied the corner like a redheaded spider who'd decided to let her prey demonstrate their capabilities before deciding how to eliminate them. Her green eyes missed nothing, and her presence was both reassuring and slightly terrifying.
"The real test," Natasha said in that sultry voice that could make grocery lists sound dangerous, "isn't what they can do. It's whether they can control what they can do."
And scattered around the observation booth like witnesses at the world's most dangerous family reunion, the rest of the mansion's student body pressed against the windows with expressions ranging from awe to envy to barely contained excitement.
Ron Weasley had his face plastered against the glass like he was watching the Quidditch World Cup and Christmas morning rolled into one. "Bloody hell," he breathed, his voice fogging the reinforced window, "they look like they could take on Voldemort and win."
"Ronald," Hermione scolded, though her own eyes were wide with fascination as she scribbled notes at superhuman speed, "this is a scientific assessment, not entertainment."
"Science can be entertaining," Fred Weasley called from across the booth, where he and George were taking bets on various aspects of the testing with the efficiency of professional bookmakers.
"Five Galleons says Harry melts something," Fred announced.
"Ten says Jean sets something on fire without meaning to," George countered.
"Fifteen says Daphne freezes the entire chamber," Tracey Davis added from the back, somehow having procured hot chocolate and treating this like a sporting event.
Percy Weasley adjusted his glasses with bureaucratic precision. "The administrative implications alone will require completely new filing systems," he muttered, which was probably the most excited anyone had ever seen Percy about paperwork.
Ginny Weasley stood with Luna Lovegood, both radiating barely contained excitement. "Think they'll let us try after they're done testing?" Ginny asked hopefully.
"The Nargles say the symbiotes are very particular about their partners," Luna replied in that dreamy voice that made everything sound like cosmic wisdom. "But they also say partnerships can be... contagious... under the right circumstances."
Meanwhile, in the corner of the observation booth, Scott Summers was doing what Scott Summers did best: brooding loudly enough for everyone to hear while pretending he wasn't seeking attention. His perfectly styled hair and designer sunglasses couldn't hide the fact that he looked like someone had personally victimized him with the concept of alien symbiosis.
"This is exactly what I was talking about," Scott said, his voice carrying that aggrieved tone that made everyone want to throw things at him. "This whole situation could have been avoided if people had followed proper protocols instead of sneaking out on unauthorized patrols."
Kitty Pryde's head briefly phased through the wall so she could roll her eyes without Scott seeing. "Here we go," she muttered.
"Jean wouldn't be in this situation if she hadn't been influenced by Potter's reckless decision-making," Scott continued with the dedication of someone who'd been practicing complaints for hours. "None of this would have happened if she'd been with me instead of running off to play vigilante."
"Oh my God," Rogue drawled from across the booth, her Southern accent thick with exasperation that could cut glass, "will you shut up already, sugar? Nobody made Jean do anything. Girl's got her own brain and her own right to make decisions about who she wants to patrol with."
"She's fourteen years old," Scott protested, as if age explained everything about decision-making and proper vigilante protocol. "She doesn't have the experience to—"
"Neither do you, Summers," Logan interrupted, turning with an expression that suggested Scott was about to receive an education in why continuing this conversation was a poor life choice. "You're sixteen, which makes you barely older than they are. And last I checked, your track record for field decisions ain't exactly spotless either."
"That's different," Scott said weakly.
Kurt Wagner teleported into the conversation with a puff of sulfurous smoke and genuine curiosity. "How is it different, Scott?" he asked in that lilting German accent that made questions sound like philosophical inquiries. "Because you are older? Because you are male? Because you believe Jean cannot think for herself?"
Scott's jaw worked soundlessly, which was probably the first time in recorded history that he'd been speechless about his own opinions.
Down in the chamber, the four enhanced members of MageX stood in formation, looking like mythological figures who'd decided to visit the modern world and brought their own dramatic lighting. They radiated power that made the air itself seem denser, more charged with possibility.
Harry—now Marauder—stood at the front, his dragon-scale armor catching the chamber's lights like molten gold and crimson flame. His enhanced height and build made him look like he could benchpress a car, and his emerald eyes glowed with inner fire that had nothing to do with Christmas morning excitement.
Jean—Phoenix—stood beside him, her emerald and gold form seeming to glow with cosmic energy. Her red hair moved like it was underwater, floating around her shoulders in defiance of gravity and basic physics.
"You know," Harry said quietly, his enhanced voice carrying easily to Jean's improved hearing, "Scott's really outdoing himself today. I didn't think it was possible for him to sound more controlling and possessive, but apparently Christmas brings out his competitive spirit."
Jean laughed, the sound carrying harmonics that made it seem like music. "He's been building up to this since we got back," she replied, her voice warm with affection that definitely wasn't directed at Scott. "I think he was hoping the adults would forbid the enhancements and force us back into 'proper' team dynamics."
"By 'proper team dynamics,' you mean 'Jean follows Scott's orders without question'?" Harry asked with a grin that could have powered half the mansion.
"That would be the general idea, yes," Jean confirmed, her own smile making Scott's chances of winning her back roughly equivalent to his chances of bench-pressing the moon.
Behind them, Daphne—Chione—and Susan—Veritas—were having their own conversation about the situation, though theirs carried the kind of subtle romantic tension that made observers wonder if they realized how they were looking at each other.
"Think we'll pass their tests?" Susan asked, her yellow and black form shifting subtly as she processed environmental data in real-time.
"Darling," Daphne replied in that aristocratic voice that could make insults sound like compliments, "we're going to exceed their wildest expectations. The question is whether they'll be able to handle what we've become."
The way she said 'we' made it sound like she wasn't just talking about the four of them, and the way Susan smiled in response suggested she'd caught the implication.
Professor Xavier's voice cut through all conversations with the authority that made everyone remember why he ran a school full of superpowered teenagers. "If we could focus on the matter at hand," he said mildly, though his tone carried enough steel to make everyone shut up, "I believe we have some enhancements to evaluate."
Logan stepped up to the communication console with anticipation visible in his weathered features. "Alright, kids," he growled, "let's see what your new friends can do. Start with basic physical capabilities. Show us what we're working with."
Harry stepped forward first, approaching the testing apparatus with fluid grace that made movement look like art. The weights started at levels that would challenge normal humans and went up to measurements typically reserved for people who could benchpress aircraft.
"Let's start simple," Harry said, selecting an eight-hundred-pound weight. He lifted it with one hand like it was made of foam instead of specially reinforced metal.
"Well," Ron breathed against the window, "that's not normal."
Harry moved to twelve hundred pounds. Again, one hand, no visible strain. His enhanced physiology handled the load like his muscles had been rebuilt from materials that laughed at physical limitations.
"How much can you lift?" Logan called down.
Harry moved to the highest setting—three thousand pounds of testing equipment designed to challenge superhuman strength. He lifted it smoothly and appeared completely comfortable.
"More than this," he replied, setting it down with perfect control. "The enhancement isn't just strength—it's precision. I can feel exactly how much force I'm applying."
"Show-off," Tabitha Smith called from her perch on a console, though her voice carried admiration rather than criticism.
"Speed test," Logan announced.
Harry moved to the agility course, which activated with obstacles appearing and disappearing, targets moving at velocities that would challenge professional athletes. He flowed through it like liquid lightning, his movements so smooth they looked choreographed.
"Okay," Angelina Johnson said from the observation booth, her voice carrying professional appreciation, "that's just unfair. I've been training for years and he makes it look like dancing."
"Jean, you're up," Logan called.
Jean stepped forward with serene confidence, gesturing toward the weights Harry had tested. All of them—from lightest to heaviest—rose smoothly into the air and arranged themselves in a complex three-dimensional pattern, spinning like planets in a solar system.
"That's..." Hank McCoy's voice trailed off as his instruments registered telekinetic forces that exceeded normal mutant parameters by orders of magnitude. "Jean, how many objects can you manipulate simultaneously?"
Jean gestured, and every loose object in the chamber rose into the air in complex patterns that suggested she was controlling hundreds of items with precision that would make symphony conductors weep.
"I'm not sure," she admitted, wonder in her enhanced voice. "The enhancement seems to have removed most limitations. I could probably manipulate everything in the mansion if I concentrated."
"Please don't," Xavier said quickly. "The students are still opening presents."
"Pyrokinetic assessment," Jean continued, allowing objects to settle back gently. She gestured, and towering pillars of flame reached toward the ceiling with perfect stability and heat control.
The flames danced and shifted, forming sculptures that looked like living creatures and architectural marvels. Fire art that would make museum curators fight wars over acquisition rights.
"Temperature control?" Logan asked.
The flames shifted color—red to orange to blue to white to colors that didn't have names because they existed at temperatures that normal fire couldn't reach.
"I can achieve plasma temperatures without losing control," Jean reported with calm satisfaction. "The enhancement provides both power and precision."
"Bloody brilliant," George Weasley whispered.
"Chione, let's see what winter can do," Logan called.
Daphne stepped forward with elegant grace that made everything look choreographed for maximum visual impact. Her black and ice-blue form made the air shimmer with cold that responded to her will.
She gestured, and ice began forming—not simple frost but complex crystalline structures that belonged in the world's most expensive galleries. Beautiful, intricate, and clearly functional.
Logan activated stress testing equipment, applying forces that would shatter normal ice instantly. Daphne's ice didn't even crack, absorbing and distributing forces with engineering precision that would make civil engineers question their understanding of materials science.
"The enhancement allows molecular-level control," Daphne explained with aristocratic precision. "I can create ice harder than steel, lighter than aluminum, or more flexible than rubber."
She demonstrated each property, creating ice formations that bent like rubber bands, rang like bells when struck, and glowed with inner light that had nothing to do with external illumination.
"Show-off number two," Susan murmured fondly, earning a smile from Daphne that could have melted her own ice.
"Temperature range?" Logan asked.
Daphne's ice began radiating cold that made environmental systems scream in protest. Temperature readings dropped toward absolute zero.
"I can create conditions approaching absolute zero," she replied, breath now visible in frigid air, "but also ice that remains solid at temperatures that would normally melt it instantly."
"Veritas, show us enhanced truth," Logan called.
Susan stepped forward with calm confidence, her form shifting subtly as she processed environmental inputs in real-time.
"Give me a problem to solve," she said with authority that made people want to listen when she explained complicated concepts.
Logan activated one of the Danger Room's most complex scenarios—a three-dimensional puzzle involving spatial reasoning, mathematical calculations, and pattern recognition that typically challenged graduate students in theoretical physics.
Susan looked at the holographic display for three seconds.
"The solution involves rotating the central axis forty-seven degrees while adjusting peripheral elements according to a Fibonacci sequence modified by prime number intervals," she said, hands already implementing the solution. "The mathematical relationship follows golden ratio proportions applied to non-Euclidean geometry."
The puzzle dissolved. She'd been not only correct but elegantly efficient.
"More complex," she requested. Logan activated a scenario involving multiple puzzle elements, real-time variables, and challenges that typically required specialist teams.
Susan solved it in under a minute.
"The enhancement doesn't just increase processing speed," she explained with wonder. "It provides intuitive understanding of complex relationships and the ability to synthesize solutions from incomplete information."
"Combat assessment," Logan announced. "Let's see these enhancements work together."
The four moved into formation with fluid coordination that suggested their teamwork had been enhanced along with individual capabilities. They positioned themselves like dancers who'd practiced until movement became instinctive.
Logan activated combat scenarios—holographic opponents with superhuman speed, multiple threat vectors requiring simultaneous response, environmental hazards challenging mobility and awareness.
MageX moved through scenarios like choreographed demonstrations instead of challenging exercises. Harry's strength and speed allowed him to engage multiple opponents while covering impossible distances. Jean's abilities provided battlefield control that made numerical disadvantages irrelevant. Daphne's cryokinetic powers turned the battlefield itself into their ally. Susan's analytical capabilities provided tactical coordination that anticipated threats before they materialized.
They moved like extensions of the same consciousness, enhanced abilities complementing each other so perfectly it was unclear where individual capability ended and team synergy began.
When scenarios ended, they stood surrounded by deactivated combat challenges that would have tested experienced adult heroes, none of them even slightly winded.
"Well," Professor Xavier said finally, "the enhancements appear both extensive and stable."
"Any side effects?" Hank asked, instruments still registering data that challenged his understanding of enhancement possibilities.
"We feel more ourselves," Harry replied, certainty mixing with wonder in his enhanced voice. "Not different, exactly. Just better. More capable of being who we were meant to be."
"The symbiosis is genuinely mutual," Jean added, her harmonious voice making words sound like cosmic truth. "We're not controlled or influenced. We're enhanced, supported, amplified."
"Partnership," Daphne confirmed with aristocratic precision. "Mutual benefit without loss of individual identity."
"The arrangement appears sustainable long-term," Susan concluded with analytical weight. "Assuming proper nutrition and care for our symbionts."
Logan nodded slowly, impressed despite usual skepticism about developments that seemed too good to be true. "Alright, here's what's going to happen. You four are officially cleared for enhanced training protocols. But," he continued with steel in his voice, "enhanced abilities mean enhanced responsibilities. You're going to learn proper use, safely, with adult supervision."
"Does that mean we can continue patrol activities?" Harry asked hopefully.
"Under supervision," Xavier replied with paternal authority. "With backup. And complete transparency about activities and intentions."
"We can work with that," Jean said with satisfaction.
Then Scott Summers found his voice again, though it carried frustrated tone suggesting he'd learned nothing from the previous conversation.
"This is exactly what I was talking about," Scott said, voice rising with renewed indignation. "Now they're more powerful and more likely to take unnecessary risks. Jean's going to get herself killed following Potter into situations beyond their capabilities, even with enhancements."
The silence that followed was the kind that occurred when everyone simultaneously decided someone had said something so fundamentally wrong it required coordinated response.
"Summers," came a cold voice from the corner. Natasha stepped forward with predatory grace that reminded everyone why she was considered one of the world's most dangerous individuals. "I'm going to explain something once. Listen carefully because I won't repeat myself."
Scott opened his mouth, but Natasha held up a hand that suggested interruption would be career-ending.
"Jean Grey is not your responsibility," Natasha continued with deadly calm that preceded detailed discussions about respect and boundaries. "She's not your property, girlfriend, subordinate, or mission objective. She's a young woman with her own mind, powers, and right to make life decisions."
"I never said—" Scott began weakly.
"You said she was influenced by Harry's reckless decision-making," Natasha interrupted, green eyes flashing dangerously. "You said she wouldn't be in this situation if she'd been with you. You said she lacks experience to make decisions about her activities."
"Those statements suggest you believe Jean lacks capacity for independent thought," Natasha continued, voice dropping to a whisper that carried more menace than shouting. "That her choices are only valid when they align with your preferences. That her safety matters more than her agency."
Scott looked like he regretted every life choice that brought him to this moment.
"Here's what you're going to do," Natasha said, making it clear this wasn't suggestion. "Apologize to Jean for questioning her judgment and right to make decisions. Apologize to Harry for suggesting he's responsible for Jean's choices. And spend time thinking about why your first response to seeing Jean enhanced was complaining about losing control rather than celebrating her increased capabilities."
"And if you ever—EVER—question Jean's agency in my hearing again," Natasha continued pleasantly, "we're having a much more direct conversation about respect, boundaries, and various ways teenage boys can learn to keep opinions about young women's choices to themselves."
Scott nodded rapidly, pale and beginning to understand how comprehensively he'd misjudged the situation.
Down in the chamber, the enhanced MageX members had clearly heard everything but maintained professional composure above petty drama.
"Well," Harry said quietly to Jean, grin spreading across his enhanced features, "that was educational. Think Scott learned anything?"
"Doubtful," Jean replied, though her voice carried warmth that suggested she appreciated the intervention. "But Aunt Natasha certainly made her position clear."
"I love your family," Daphne murmured to Susan, who laughed with genuine affection.
"They're your family too now," Susan replied, the casual way she said it making Daphne's expression soften in ways that would have been visible from orbit.
As the chamber powered down and testing equipment retracted, the four enhanced members of MageX stood together, alien-enhanced forms radiating power that made the air seem charged with possibility.
They looked like the future—not just of superhero education, but of what humanity could become when partnership, enhancement, and careful development combined to create something greater than the sum of its parts.
And judging by expressions on adults' faces in the observation booth, that future was both inspiring and terrifying.
Which was probably exactly right.
After all, the best futures usually were.
—
The Xavier Institute's front gates opened with technological precision that made Arthur Weasley practically vibrate with excitement, though his understanding of the mechanisms involved was typically Arthur—enthusiastic and completely wrong.
"Fascinating!" Arthur exclaimed, pressing his nose against the Ministry car's window as they passed through the elaborate security checkpoint. "Look at those electromotive scanners! And those must be photonic identification beams! The Muggles have really outdone themselves with these quantum detection arrays!"
"Arthur, dear," Molly said patiently from beside him, juggling wrapped presents and trying to keep her husband from attempting to examine magical security systems while they were still moving, "I don't think those are quantum anything. And please sit properly—you're going to fall out the window."
"But Mollywobbles!" Arthur protested, practically bouncing in his seat like an overgrown child on Christmas morning. "Do you see those atmospheric displacement units? They're using controlled electromagnetic pulses to create protective barriers! It's like magic, but with electricity instead of wands!"
Behind them, Xenophilius Lovegood nodded sagely, his white hair wild with winter wind and philosophical certainty. "The Muggles have always been more attuned to cosmic energies than most wizards realize," he said in that dreamy voice that made everything sound like universal truth. "Though I suspect these particular barriers are designed to keep out Wrackspurts as much as unauthorized visitors."
"Mr. Lovegood," twelve-year-old Astoria Greengrass piped up from between her parents, her voice carrying curiosity that hadn't yet learned to be cautious about asking questions, "what are Wrackspurts?"
"Invisible creatures that float into your ears and make your brain go fuzzy, sweetheart," Xenophilius replied with complete seriousness. "Though apparently American Wrackspurts are different from British ones. Something about the exchange rate."
Cyrus Greengrass caught his wife Soleil's eye and managed not to laugh, though his expression suggested this was requiring significant effort. As one of the more pragmatic members of the wizarding community, he'd learned that questioning Xenophilius's explanations typically led to longer, more confusing explanations rather than clarity.
"I'm sure Luna will explain everything when we see her," Soleil said diplomatically, her French accent adding elegance to words that were clearly designed to redirect conversation toward safer topics.
In the front seat beside the MACUSA driver, Amelia Bones was reviewing security protocols with the efficiency of someone who'd spent decades protecting people from threats both magical and mundane. Her sharp eyes took in details that the others missed—sight lines, defensive positions, backup routes, and the subtle signs that suggested this particular Christmas gathering was being protected by people who took security very seriously indeed.
"Impressive setup," she murmured to Albus Dumbledore, who sat beside her looking like a man visiting old friends rather than entering what was essentially a superhuman defense installation. "Charles certainly doesn't take chances with his students' safety."
"Charles has always believed in thorough preparation," Dumbledore replied mildly, though his blue eyes twinkled with affection and old friendship. "Though I suspect our timing may be particularly fortuitous. I believe we're arriving just as some rather significant developments are being evaluated."
"What kind of developments?" Amelia asked, professional instincts automatically sharpening at the suggestion of significant developments requiring evaluation.
"The kind," Dumbledore said with gentle mystery, "that tend to make Christmas mornings memorable for reasons beyond simple gift-giving."
Arthur had managed to get the window partially down and was now trying to point some kind of detection device—which looked suspiciously like a radio with extra dials randomly attached—toward the mansion's various technological features.
"Extraordinary electromagnetic signatures!" he announced triumphantly. "These readings are completely off the normal scales! The Muggles must be conducting some kind of advanced energy experiment!"
"Arthur Weasley," Molly said sharply, "you put that contraption away this instant before you accidentally interfere with their security systems and get us all turned away at the door."
"But the quantum fluctuations—"
"No quantum fluctuations until after we've greeted our hosts properly," Molly said firmly, using the voice that had successfully managed seven children and one husband through decades of magical mishaps and bureaucratic adventures.
The car pulled up the circular drive toward the mansion's front entrance, where several figures could be seen gathering to greet arriving guests. The building itself was an impressive example of American architecture adapted for highly specialized educational purposes, managing to look both welcoming and subtly fortified in ways that suggested its inhabitants were prepared for various emergency scenarios.
"Oh my," Soleil breathed, taking in the mansion's elegant proportions and carefully maintained grounds. "It's beautiful. Much larger than I expected."
"Daddy," Astoria asked, pointing toward figures near the entrance, "why does that man have blue fur?"
"Because, sweetheart," Cyrus replied with the practiced ease of a parent who'd learned that simple answers were usually better than complicated ones, "some people here are born with different characteristics. It's rather like how some wizards have different magical abilities."
"Is he friendly?" Astoria continued with twelve-year-old directness.
"Very friendly," Dumbledore assured her with grandfatherly warmth. "Hank McCoy is one of the most pleasant and intelligent individuals you'll ever meet. Though I should warn you, he enjoys discussing complicated scientific concepts almost as much as Mr. Weasley enjoys asking about Muggle technology."
Arthur perked up immediately. "Scientific concepts? Do you think he'd explain how those electromagnetic pulse generators work? Or those photonic barrier arrays?"
"Arthur," Amelia said gently, "perhaps we should focus on Christmas greetings before launching into technical discussions with our hosts."
As they stepped out of the car, the mansion's front doors opened with welcoming warmth that immediately made the winter air feel less bitter. Several figures emerged to greet them, led by a woman with white hair and serene presence who moved like someone accustomed to controlling forces of nature.
"Welcome to Xavier's School," Storm said graciously, her voice carrying warmth that made everyone feel immediately at home. "Professor Dumbledore, always a pleasure."
"Ororo, my dear," Dumbledore replied with genuine affection, "you look radiant as always. I trust the winter hasn't been too challenging?"
"Winter and I have reached an understanding," Storm replied with subtle humor that suggested weather control came with certain advantages during seasonal planning.
Behind her, Hank McCoy approached with fluid grace that made his unusual appearance seem perfectly natural, extending his hand in greeting with scholarly enthusiasm.
"Mr. Weasley, I presume?" Hank said to Arthur with warmth and amusement. "Charles mentioned your interest in technological applications. I'd be delighted to discuss some of our systems, though I should mention that most of our electromagnetic applications work somewhat differently than you might expect."
Arthur practically glowed with excitement. "Different how? Are you using alternative current configurations? Modified photonic wavelengths? Quantum entanglement protocols?"
Hank's expression suggested this was going to be an entertaining conversation. "Well, actually, most of our systems are designed around mutant abilities rather than traditional electromagnetic principles, but the applications are certainly fascinating from an engineering perspective."
"Really?" Arthur asked, clearly trying to process this information through his particular worldview of technological enthusiasm mixed with fundamental misunderstanding of basic principles.
"Arthur, dear," Molly interrupted gently, "perhaps we should let our hosts show us inside before conducting technical seminars in the driveway?"
"Of course, of course," Arthur agreed, though he continued looking around at various technological features with expression suggesting he was mentally cataloguing everything for future detailed inquiry.
Xenophilius had wandered toward what appeared to be decorative garden features but were probably sophisticated monitoring equipment, his expression dreamy with philosophical appreciation.
"The energy patterns here are quite harmonious," he announced to no one in particular. "Very conducive to clear thinking and cosmic awareness. Though I detect traces of interdimensional activity. Nothing harmful, but definitely active."
"Interdimensional?" Astoria asked with fascination.
"Some of our students have rather exotic abilities," Storm explained diplomatically. "Kurt Wagner, for instance, can teleport through dimensional spaces. It does leave traces that sensitive individuals sometimes notice."
"Fascinating," Cyrus murmured, clearly impressed despite his usually reserved nature.
As they approached the mansion's entrance, distant sounds could be heard from somewhere within—not alarming exactly, but suggesting that significant activities were taking place elsewhere in the building.
"Busy morning?" Amelia asked with professional awareness of situations that required evaluation and assessment.
"Holiday testing protocols," Storm replied smoothly. "Some of our students received rather significant... gifts... recently. We're ensuring they understand how to use them safely."
"What kind of gifts?" Soleil asked with motherly curiosity.
Storm's expression suggested this was going to require more explanation than casual conversation typically allowed.
"Perhaps," she said carefully, "Professor Xavier should explain the recent developments. They're rather... unique... even by our standards."
From somewhere within the mansion came the sound of something that might have been controlled demolition or possibly very enthusiastic celebration. It was hard to tell the difference.
"Oh my," Dumbledore said mildly, blue eyes twinkling with anticipation and old friendship's understanding of when Charles Xavier was dealing with situations that exceeded normal educational parameters. "This promises to be a most educational Christmas morning indeed."
Arthur brightened immediately. "Educational how? Are they testing new technological applications? Energy displacement experiments? Quantum manipulation devices?"
"Something like that," Storm replied with diplomatic understatement that suggested the reality was both more complicated and more impressive than Arthur's enthusiastic mislabeling could capture.
As they entered the mansion, warm air and the smell of Christmas breakfast welcomed them, along with the distant sound of what was either very advanced scientific testing or possibly teenage superhumans demonstrating why Christmas mornings at Xavier's School were never quite like Christmas mornings anywhere else.
Which, judging by Arthur's expression of barely contained excitement and professional curiosity, was exactly what he'd been hoping for.
---
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