"Doctor, Experiment 757's test results are out."
"What level?"
"Level Two."
"Level Two? So even if his abilities fully develop, he'll only be capable of shallow mind-reading and magnetic control under fifty kilograms?"
"Yes, Doctor. According to our current data on Mutants, that's correct."
"It seems merging Professor X and Magneto's genes to create the strongest artificial Mutant is still an impossible dream."
"Should we terminate this experiment, Doctor?"
"End the testing, yes. From now on, focus all research on X-24. He's our strongest weapon."
"And what about Experiment 757? Should he be disposed of like the others?"
"No. Keep him alive. Train him with the other children. Even if he's only Level Two, a hybrid of Professor X and Magneto's genes might still be useful if properly developed."
"Yes, Doctor!"
"757! Be decisive when you strike—ruthless! Aim for my vital points! Don't hesitate, you worthless trash!"
On the training grounds, a burly instructor with bulging muscles and a combat knife lunged ferociously at a young man around seventeen or eighteen. The youth's expression was tense as he used magnetism to deflect the dagger, trying to seize a chance to counterattack. But his reactions were clumsy and his judgment poor.
"Compared to Magneto, my control over magnetism is really too weak," he muttered through clenched teeth.
The youth's name was George—a transmigrator who had crossed over three months ago into the body of this artificial Mutant known as Experiment 757.
His Mutant powers were mind-reading and magnetism.
Unfortunately, his mind-reading only worked when the target was completely unguarded, and even then, he could only glimpse their current mental state—never their deeper memories. His magnetic control was even worse: he could lift no more than ten pounds of metal. That might impress ordinary people, but compared to Magneto—who could lift stadiums and fly through the air—it was utterly pitiful.
Against regular humans, it was fine. But against defensive ability users like Thing, Colossus, or White Queen, he wouldn't even scratch their armor.
George's current goal was simple: escape this cruel laboratory.
A shrill bell suddenly rang.
A researcher in a white coat stepped in, halting the training. He placed a sleek, metallic collar around George's neck.
"Experiment 757, it's time for your dinner."
"Yes," George replied stiffly and obediently followed.
The collar was called a Mutant Inhibitor—once activated, it completely nullified a Mutant's powers, rendering them no different from ordinary humans. George was required to wear it at all times, except during combat training.
As he walked through the long, sterile corridor, he saw other Mutants being escorted from various rooms. Most were children—barely twelve or thirteen years old.
Marvel Universe, he thought bitterly. This really is a terrifying world.
From the moment he realized he was a Mutant, George understood where he was. Though he wasn't a hardcore Marvel fan, he had watched enough movies to know what kind of danger the Marvel Universe held. Countless universes existed within it, each filled with endless chaos and cosmic threats. Even Thanos wiping out half the universe wasn't the worst fate—entire universes could vanish without a trace.
Still, since he had been reborn here, he had no choice but to survive.
Who would choose death when life was an option?
He had always loved life. If given the chance, he wanted to live forever.
People said immortality was a curse—watching loved ones die while you endured alone—but he felt the benefits far outweighed the pain. Which child of the Celestial Empire hadn't secretly dreamed of immortality? Even Emperor Qin Shi Huang, after uniting the Six States, sought the elixir of eternal life.
Over the past month, George had gradually confirmed something about this world: it was likely connected to the universe of Logan (Wolverine 3).
He had seen the Little Wolf Girl, X-23—Wolverine's clone—among the other children. She possessed the same healing factor and Adamantium claws.
Yet something didn't add up.
In the movie, the year was 2029.
Here, it was only 2009.
And from the casual chatter of the staff, he had also learned that Tony Stark and Captain America existed in this world. According to the timeline of Logan, X-23 shouldn't even have been born yet. Which meant this wasn't the Mutant Universe or the MCU—it was a different Marvel Universe entirely.
Well, George thought, as long as the events still happen, the timing doesn't matter.
Whether it was 2029 or 2009 didn't concern him. He only hoped that, just as in Logan, a kind nurse would one day help the Mutant children escape this lab—and that he could slip away with them.
To maintain his façade, George always acted like an obedient, docile subject. After dinner, he returned quietly to his room and pretended to sleep.
Every inch of the facility was under surveillance. He couldn't afford to show emotion or suspicion that might make the staff wary. To further lower their guard, he deliberately hid a portion of his true strength—slowing his magnetic control and masking his strategic thoughts.
Of course, he couldn't appear too weak either. Too useless, and he'd be discarded.
Suddenly—pain.
"What's going on? It hurts so much!" he gasped.
In his sleep, George felt agony tear through his very soul. It was as if his consciousness was being ripped apart. The pain was sharp but brief; when it faded, he found himself in a strange new state.
He opened his eyes—and saw two worlds at once.
In one, he lay in his laboratory bunk.
In the other, he was in a tiny, decrepit cubicle.
And somehow, he could control this second body as easily as his first.
It was as if he had gained a clone—a second self in another world.
His main body remained lying motionless in the lab, while his mind focused on the other.
Memories—fragmented and fast as lightning—flashed through his mind, and when they settled, he murmured in disbelief:
"This… this is the Harry Potter world!"
In this new set of memories, the body's name was Dora, an eleven-year-old girl who had grown up in an orphanage before being adopted by a wizard from Knockturn Alley. Unfortunately, that wizard was a cruel Dark Wizard—a man who adopted Dora only to use her as a test subject for his Dark Arts and potion experiments.
Using Muggles was risky—it could attract the Ministry of Magic's attention—but experimenting on a wizard child he "adopted" was safe. If she died, he could simply claim it was an accident. Dark spells and potion research often required living wizard subjects, and Dora was the perfect disposable tool.
Under his torment, Dora lived a life worse than a house-elf's—beaten, starved, and treated as both servant and experiment. She endured it all in silence, her spirit slowly breaking.
Her only hope was Hogwarts. Once she turned eleven, she dreamed of escaping to school, far away from her abuser.
But when the Hogwarts letter finally arrived, the Dark Wizard forbade her to go.
For Muggle-born children, Hogwarts' invitations were mandatory—the school would ensure their magical education to prevent uncontrolled power from turning them into Obscurials, dangerous beings born from repressed magic.
But for wizard-born children, parents had freedom of choice. They could send them to Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, Ilvermorny—or even homeschool them.
So the Ministry would never question Dora's absence.
When the Dark Wizard told her she would never go to Hogwarts, Dora's fragile hope shattered. That night, she stole a potion from his lab and drank it, ending her own life in despair.
And for reasons George couldn't comprehend, his fragmented soul—torn by that earlier pain—had entered Dora's dying body, fusing with it. He was now its new master.
"That's… truly tragic," George whispered after absorbing her memories.
A hoarse voice echoed from outside the cubicle. "Dora! Come here!"
He ignored it for a moment, feeling a burning thirst. Instinctively, he reached for the iron cup on the table—and the cup flew into his hand.
He froze.
The magnetic pull—his Mutant ability—had just worked.
But this wasn't his main body in the Marvel world; this was Dora's.
"I can use my Mutant powers here…?" he breathed. Then another realization struck him. Shifting his awareness back to his body in the laboratory, he sensed something new inside himself—an energy unlike anything he'd felt before.
It was magic.
Wizard magic, unique to this world—and now somehow shared between both his bodies.
"If that's true," George said slowly, wonder lighting his eyes, "then the powers of both worlds can be used interchangeably…"
The implications were staggering.
Magic from the Wizarding World in his Marvel body—and Mutant abilities in his Wizard body.
A grin spread across his face.
"If that's the case… then this is beyond anything I could've imagined."
In that instant, countless possibilities bloomed in his mind—plans to harness both science and sorcery, to escape the lab, to grow stronger, to live forever.
For the first time since awakening in this brutal universe, George felt something new stirring inside him.
Hope.