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Reap What You Sow

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31st October 1981

Godric's Hollow

Potter Cottage

"We will be fine darling, have no worries. The children are going to have a fun time tonight." Euphemia Potter nee Sayre exclaimed with exasperation. How many times was she going to tell her son and daughter-in-law to go and enjoy themselves? It wasn't every day they were able to actually get out and have fun, with worrying about their children's protection from the Dark Lord Voldemort.

"Are – are you sure?" Lily Potter questioned worriedly. She held her oldest son, Harry Potter, who had just yesterday turned five, in her arms, bouncing him gently as he fussed and squirmed to be put down.

"Yes. We'll just play with the children until they fall asleep and then put them to bed." Fleamont Potter stated as he stood beside his wife. Amusement danced in his hazel eyes, making them sparkle in the light. He, like his son, also had raven black hair.

"Well, since that's settled. We should go Lily. We don't want to be late." James Potter said with a smile on his handsome face. He wrapped his arms around his beautiful wife's waist, kissing his oldest on the forehead sweetly before pulling away slowly.

John Potter gave a whimpering cry from his playpen and held out his arms to his father, closing and opening his fists with frustration. "Da!" He cried out. "Dada!" He continued.

James chuckled at his son and walked over to the play pen and picked the young child up and held John close to his chest. "Shhh John. Daddy is here." He said tenderly with a warm smile. He kissed the messy auburn hair with a wide smile. The feeling he got whenever he held his children in his arms was something unforgettable. It was an amazing feeling. To know that you were the one that created this innocent and adorable child that counted on you for protection and love.

Lily sighed with relief as Harry finally stopped squirming and just silently listened to his mother’s humming. "I'm tired mama." He murmured out as he wrapped his arms around his mother's neck.

"I know baby. Grandma will put you to bed soon." Lily said with a small smile. "I love you Harry." Lily said softly. She and James hadn't truly been parents to Harry in his first few years. They were young when they had little Harry, only sixteen-years-old, which led them to giving him to James' parents so they could take care of him.

It wasn't until he was nearly four that they finally started to raise him. Lily sometimes thought Harry may love his grandmother and grandfather more than she and James. After all, they were barely around when he was a toddler, even when they had summer vacation, they did the things every teenager does, have fun with their friends. "Your daddy is right Harry, we should go." Lily sighed with resignation.

Euphemia and Fleamont gave each other smiles of amusement. They had been the same way when they were first time parents, though, they were much older than Lily and James had been. "That settles it then." Euphemia remarked before plucking John out of his father's arms. The young toddler gave a cry and squirmed fussily. Fleamont also took young Harry out of his daughter-in-laws arms and held him close. The older Potter noticed that Harry watched his parents silently. They knew that Harry may love his grandparents, more about than his own parents. They had raised Harry while his parents still acted like teenager. It was the same with Lily's parents; they also helped to raise Harry.

"Go have fun." Fleamont ordered. "You're still young and need to get out every once in a while." He made no comment to remind them how dangerous this time period was and how short life could be.

Little Harry, along with his paternal grandparents, watched in silence as Lily and James left the small little cottage that they called home for the time being. While Harry didn't completely understand what was going on, he did comprehend that a bad man, a bad wizard, was after him or his baby brother because of a prophecy. No one really knew he had this knowledge, except his grandparents. They both had known from when he was a mere babe, that Harry was so very special.

"I suppose we should put the little ones down." Euphemia mused aloud.

"Yes, that sounds like a good idea." Fleamont replied as the two stood slowly up from the couch in the living room, each holding a child in their arms as they slowly walked into the front hallway that led to the staircase. The two froze at the sound of a sudden alarm blaring. It blared for three minutes before suddenly silencing. They glanced at one another, fear prominent in their eyes.

"Effie, take Harry and John and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!" Fleamont Potter exclaimed, placing young John into her arms as gently as possible.
The young toddler startled awake at the sudden movement. Hazel eyes gazed around the hall with curiosity and surprise. It seemed like John was just now recognizing where he was. His older brother, Harry, had already awoken at the loud yell and was staring at his grandmother with intelligent green eyes that held surprise and curiosity. Young Harry could sense the emotions of fear, anger, shock, anger, and intent of murder.

Fleamont Potter gripped his wand in a tight fist. His eyes, a fierce hazel, glared at the door as it swung open with a crash causing the mirror hanging behind the door to fall to the floor and shatter.

“Flea – ” Euphemia exclaimed with horror bright in her beautiful sapphire blue eyes as she stared into her husband's equally worried eyes.
"Go Cassie. I love you." Fleamont replied, giving the love of his life one last tender kiss.

Tears glistened in her beautiful blue eyes as she moved, uttering four little words, "I love you too," to her husband before hurriedly running up the stairs, holding her two grandchildren tight in her arms. They are her grandchildren and she would protect them to her last dying breath. She had raised little Harry since he was born and had always been there for him. She had also helped raise John. She would be honest with herself; she may love her first grandchild most, only because she was there for Harry from the start. She would do anything for the both of them though, even if it meant her death in the end.

"You will not hurt them." Fleamont vowed, tossing out a dark spell. The two wizards dueled fiercely with one another, lasting nearly seven minutes, until two words were spoken.

"Avada Kedavra!" The electric green colored spell shot out from the Dark Lords wand, hitting dead center into Jonathan Potters chest. The mans lifeless body collapsed onto the floor in a dull thud.

Euphemia Potter gave a sob at the sound of her husband's dead body hitting the floor. Holding her grandchildren tighter in her arms she quickly ran into the nursery. Shutting the door, she held the two children close to her chest. "Per vitam et sanguinem, I muniantur. Et dabo eos in fidem a malo. Mortis tactus non habere. Nam velle et sanguis pro animæ meæ habitare." Euphemia chanted out. With a flick of her wand, a gash appeared across her hand. Raising it, she used her wand to lightly graze the children's necks. She had searched desperately when she discovered her grandchildren may be killed by a madman. It was one of the reasons why she talked her son and daughter-in-law in to leaving. If they had not, they would have died, leaving her grandchildren in hands of monsters.

Euphemia looked down at her grandchildren with tears glistening bright in her blue eyes. The tears slowly slid down her face. Kissing the two boys on their foreheads she held them closer to her chest, her back facing the door. Harry's small toddler bed was across from the crib. "I love you so much Harry." Euphemia murmured to her oldest grandson. Her expression and eyes filled held so much pride and love that five-year-old Harry felt tears slide down his face. He knew something was going to happen. He could feel it in the air, feel it in his heart and most of all, he could feel it in his mind.

"I love you too Grandma." Harry replied softly. Leaning forward he gave his grandmother a little kiss on the lips as he gave her a sad smile. Euphemia felt a small sob escape at her grandson's words. It broke her heart, knowing that her oldest grandson was going to see something so horrible. Little John was lucky, he wouldn't remember anything about this.

The silence was broken as the door suddenly slammed inward, crashing against the wall with a deafening bang, causing the children to jump in alarm. Lord Voldemort stood in his dark twisted glory in the doorway of the nursery. He sneered at the blood traitorous Pureblood witch who stood defiantly before him, protecting her pathetic grandchildren. "Move aside you pathetic wretch, move aside! Now!" The Dark Lord hissed darkly as he stared at the woman with disgust.

"Not Harry or John , please no – don't kill them, take me, kill me instead —" Euphemia begged. Tears continued to stream down her face. Her voice cracked in despair. Her husband, the man she loved with her heart and soul, was dead. She would not let this monster take her grandchildren as well.

"Move aside woman! Now!" The Dark Lord hissed irritably.

Little John gave a startled cry at the sudden loud voice. Harry held his brother in his arms, trying to soothe his brother of his tears and fear. "Please…no… Not Harry…Not John. Please no." Euphemia cried with a shake of her head, black hair cascaded over her back.

"This is my last warning —" The Dark Lord hissed.

"Not Harry! Not John! Please... have mercy... they're just children! Please...I'll do anything..." Euphemia pleaded with a shake of her head. Black raven-hair fell into her bright blue eyes.

"Avada Kedavra." The Dark Lord murmured with annoyance. The green light shot out from his wand and hit Euphemia in the chest, whom made a loud scream before her lifeless body collapsed onto the floor. Five-year-old Harry and one year old John cried out at the noises and sight. The two were sitting before the crib. Little Harry sat slightly in front of his baby brother, protecting John from the monster that was Lord Voldemort.

The Dark Lord stepped over the fallen body of Harry and John's grandmother and stood before the two children. He could have gone after the Longbottom boy, but he had other plans. "Such small creatures, so defenseless and helpless. You shall never see the day were you can defeat me." The Dark Lord Voldemort sneered with disgust. Raising his wand he spoke. "Avada Kedavra." The green light shot out of his wand and towards the two brother's. A shield in the color of red and green, began to swirl around the two boys.

The smirk that had begun to grace Lord Voldemort's lips as he realized he had killed the brats quickly turned to shock as he noticed the strange fiery red and black eyes that had appeared across the oldest Potter boy's eyes. The surprise he had felt made the Dark Lord too slow to dodge the dark spell that shot towards him and connected to his chest. A loud scream of pain emitted from his mouth from as he felt his soul being torn out from his body. John, who had a small lightning bolt scar on his forehead cried at the pain he felt.

Harry Potter felt dizzy, in pain and sick as blood dripped down from his nose, ears, and eyes from the spell that had nearly hit him. The five-year-old slowly crawled away from his baby brother, barely paying attention to his own crying and blood dripping down his face, as he made his way over to his grandmother.

"I love you grandma." Harry whispered with his continuous silent tears and blood dripping down his face like a small river. He leaned forward and kissed his grandmother on the cheek before hugging her. Turning back to his baby brother he tiredly plopped down beside John and held him in his arms as he tried to calm his crying brother.

19th June 1993

New Orleans, Louisiana

D'Amour Manor

"Non. I'm not crazy...Je ne suis pas folle. I'm normal...Je ne suis no'mal." A voice muttered in the darkness of a normal sized room. A figure sat curled in a small ball. The young man had pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs protectively with his head lay on his arms. The only source of light came from the window, where the sun was beginning to rise and shine through the cracks made from the black curtains hanging above the windowpane. Sounds of early morning wind hollowing from outside was the only source of noise to be heard besides the continuous muttering of the young adolescent. His breathing was shallow and jagged as he continued to shake with nervous tension.

Jace D'Amour was tall, well-built and darkly handsome young man with long, lustrous black hair, striking emerald green eyes, and an air of "casual elegance". At the moment a pained look crossed his vestige of aristocratic beauty at the amount of pain rising in his head. "Non…non…" He muttered to himself in a begging tone.

Eyes squeezed shut as he tried unsuccessfully to keep his tears at bay. "I'm not crazy…non…I'm not." He muttered to himself sternly in a raspy voice. His dark black hair was in disheveled, making it look like he had just crawled out of bed. Bright emerald green eyes were bloodshot and dilated. The young teenager gave a painful gasp as another sudden shock of pain pulsed at his temples. Tightening his grip on his head he squeezed his hands into tight fists as his body shook from the sudden onslaught of voices filtering through his mind.

'Perhaps I shouldn't…' A male voice said in thoughtfulness.

'Does this outfit look tacky?' A feminine high-pitched voice murmured.

'...I can't believe she...' A deep voice seemed to growl.

'Did you hear what happened?' An excited squeal echoed.

'I'm surprised they actually did it!' Another male voice whispered in shock.

'Maybe I shouldn't go…' A female voice trailed off in sadness.

'I can't believe I was talked into this.' A boy’s voice sighed.

'I should tell him that I'm sick.' Another girl whispered in fear.

'I'm dreading this assignment...' A male voice whined.

Voices filled the young teenage boy's mind and each voice seemed to get louder and louder as he continued to lie on the floor and ignore them. It was as if they almost wanted him to hear them. His legs remained curled to his chest as he closed his eyes tightly. Jace unsuccessfully tried to keep the voices out of his mind. "Shut up! Se taire!" He begged aloud. All he wished was for anyone or anything to kill him immediately and take him out of his misery. With a final sigh, the boy ignored the voices that surfaced in his mind and fell into an uneasy sleep.

The sound of knocking on Jace's bedroom door made the young man groan. Beautiful emerald green eyes flickered open as he raised his head slowly from his corner. "Oui?" The boy called in an exhausted and sore voice. The door to his room swung open with a groan. A tall, very pretty blonde haired, blue-eyed woman stood in the doorway of the darkly lit room. Hands on her hips, the stern look of the woman slowly went to shock and confusion as she noticed the state her adoptive son was in.

'Good lord, what happened?' The thoughtful voice of his adoptive mother hit Jace full force, causing him to close his eyes tightly. "What's wrong?" The older woman questioned in her accented voice, slowly walking towards her son.

"Nothin'. It's nothin'. Just a headache la mere." The boy's mother looked around the room and shook her head with a disapproving look gracing her pretty face.

"Regardez ce gâchis." Séraphine D’Amour nee Tremblay exclaimed, her gaze turning to look around the destroyed room. It looked like it had been struck by a tornado. Random objects and clothes are strewn across the floor and bed. "Jace Aziz D'Amour. What did you do to this room?" She questioned as she looked down at her son, who remained sitting on the tan carpeted floor.

Jace looked to his adoptive mother with a frown on his handsome face. He had done nothing on purpose, things had just started to happen. It wasn't his fault everything started flying around the room when those voices appeared. "I didn't do this la mere." He stated defensively in his own accented cajun voice. "You have to believe me." At the look on his mother's face he released a sigh and grimace as his head gave another painful throb. Taking a deep breath to try and ease the pain he let it out slowly. His head felt like it was going to explode. Jace's headache felt nothing like a normal headache, but it also didn't feel like a migraine.

"Hmm." Seraphine muttered while giving her adoptive son a reproachful look before her eyes scanned around the room to look at the disaster it had turned into. "Just get ready for l'école. You have to leave soon." She stated sternly. With a turn of her heel Jace's mother stepped out of the room while slamming the door shut behind her with a loud bang.

Jace stood up slowly from the corner in his room and turned to his bed and collapsed on it tiredly. "...l'école..." He muttered with a sigh. He didn't want to go to school.
With a heavy sigh Jace rolled off of the bed with a thud and promptly stood up, dusting off his pajama pants. He ran a hand through his hair and grabbed a pair of black cargo pants, a black studded belt, a black wife-beater, a long sleeved unbuttoned dark red dress shirt, and a black leather trench coat that fell to his knees. Additionally, he grabbed a pair of black leather finger-less gloves and black biker boots which completed his outfit.

Holding his clothes in his arms he stepped out of his room and made his way to the bathroom down the hallway. Shutting the door quietly behind him, he quickly walked towards the shower and turned the nozzles on. Jace ignored the mirror hanging on his wall. He remembered what happened the last time he looked at his reflection; he didn't want the incident to happen again. His black raven hair fell into his eyes as he removed his black pajama pants.

Hopping into the shower Jace sighed in content. He did love his hot water. He shook his head and began to quickly wash his hair with dandruff free shampoo and conditioner. After he finished washing his hair he began washing his body with dove soap. Ten minutes later he stepped out of the shower, turning the water off while doing so and grabbed his towels. Wrapping it around his waist he used the other to dry his black locks of hair before drying the rest of his body off. He stepped to the mirror and raised a artistic shaped hand and wiped the steam away so he could wash his face. He didn't realize that he was staring at his reflection in strange fascination. Jace hadn't looked at his reflection in over a year, not since it happened. Snapping out of his thoughts he stepped back in fear when his reflection smiled at him.

"Haven't seen you in some time," Jace's reflection cooed mockingly with a pleasant little smile. The reflection's eyes glimmered in a sinister manner as it slowly and casually gave him a once over.

Jace shook his head and gave a tired sigh. "You know the reason. I hate talking to you. You always seem to twist everything I say." He spat with a glare. His accent thickened in his anger and fear.

His reflection laughed and shrugged innocently. "Darlin', you make it too easy not to." Jace opened his mouth to defend himself when his reflection cut him off. "You know it's true," his reflection whispered with a malicious smile.

"I do not! That is a lie. Whenever I talk to you, you make me feel…étrange." Jace snapped. His temper always seemed to flare whenever he spoke to…himself? The reflection gave a smirk, a dark chuckle released from plump pink lips and it echoed in the bathroom with enthusiasm.

"Oh Jacey," his reflection cooed again, shaking its head in bemusement and exasperation. When the reflection spoke again, its voice held a tone of annoyance. "That's 'cause you know you can't deny what's inside you. You know I'm only helping you come to terms to what you are." The reflection looked at Jace seriously.

"And what is inside moi?" Jace inquired sarcastically. Tanned hands grasped the counter tightly. The reflections eyes flashed with anger.

"Moi…I'm inside you and you can never beat moi," the voice said threateningly, "I'll always be inside that handsome head of yours." Jace's reflection tilted its head as if it was listening for something. "You should finish getting ready, don't want to be late for school." The reflection spoke with a wink and smirk. Jace stood still for a moment as he looked to look in the mirror. His reflection had gone back to normal, leaving Jace feeling more confused than ever. How can he possibly speak to his reflection? Perhaps something inside of him? He shuddered at the thought before he grabbed his clothes and dressed quickly.

Jace stepped out of the bathroom ten minutes later. His mind was still thinking over what his reflection or whatever it was, said. Shrugging to himself, Jace made his way down the stairs, boots thumped with each heavy step. He was fully dressed, clean, and ready for a long day of hell. Jace sang underneath his breath as he walked into the kitchen to see his adoptive parents sitting at the kitchen table.

"Where did you hear that son'?" Eileen questioned from her spot at the table.

"Don’t know." Jace shrugged. "It just appeared in my head." He said as he walked over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. "See ya later la mere." He called out over his shoulder as he walked into the living room. He completely ignored Jason who sat at the table drinking a cup of coffee. Picking up his bag up off the floor from beside the door, he swung it over his shoulder. Without a thought, he made his way towards his High School.

Chapter Text

19th June 1993

Dechen Street

New Orleans, Louisiana

Jace saunters slowly down the street, his footsteps dully thumping along the cracked cement as he makes his way towards Benjamin Franklin High School. He was far from thrilled at having to drag himself out of bed, after another near sleepless night. He was rarely lucky to get any sleep at all most nights, even before these thoughts invaded his mind. For as long as he could remember, nightmares have kept him awake or his insomnia kept him from falling into a deep sleep or allowing him to fall asleep at all. A sigh escapes his lips as he irritably rubs his face.

His temples continue to throb painfully from the soft whispered voices in his mind that persistently push through what little defense he has made. They seem to get louder as time past, as if they were angry at the fact that he was trying to ignore them. He placed the headphones connected to his CD player into his ears and blared the music, desperately trying to block out the voices screaming in his mind to listen to them.

It took nearly fifteen minutes for Jace to finally reach his school, a place he dreaded most. He was not friends with many people there, as they all thought him strange and dark. Unlike most teenager's his age, Jace had never acted like a teenage boy would be. He didn't find interest in parties or sports or even teenage girls. He rather liked being alone, locked away in his room, scribbling down his thoughts, whether they turned into lyrics to a song or a short story depended on him. With a sigh, Jace slipped through the double glass doors and made his way towards his first class.

Jace ignored the jeering mocks from the resident jocks at Benjamin Franklin and continued to try and make his way to class before the bell rang. "D'amour, 'ey!" A voice called out. The hand reached out and grabbed him roughly. Jace stumbled backwards and nearly knocked into the figure behind him.

"What tah hell do yah want?" Jace snapped. He shrugged the jock's hand off him and stepped away.

"When I call yah, yah answer me." The jock stated. As if he was the most important thing in Jace's life.

"Va te faire foutre." (Kiss my ass.) Jace snapped with a glare. His brilliant green eyes became icy as he glared at the jock in front of him. Who the hell did he think he was? Trying to tell him what to do? Jace D'amour listened to no one. He was his own man and wasn't about to start acting someone stuck up prick's bitch.

The jock's expression went dark. His fist clenched as his eyes squinted into a glare as he stared at the little freak who thought he was better than anyone else. Jace could fell the air crackling around him, as if it was inside him was just waiting to release something that would cause serious harm. "Listen connard (asshole) vous pouvez essayer d'être un dur à cuire (you can try to be a badass) but ya nothin' but a stupid dick that needs ta get a life." He snapped with annoyance.

"Now if yah excusez-moi (excuse me) I 'ave things ta do." Without a backward's glance Jace turned on his heel and stormed off to his classroom. He knew that the stupid jock would try to start something with him later, but he wasn't going to give 'em the satisfaction. He had better things to do than deal with stupid asshole trying to overcompensate because he's unsure of his sexuality.

Benjamin Franklin High School

Fifth Period

Calculus AP

The students all sat lazily within their seats, listening to the teacher as he dryly explained problems on triple integrals using rectangular coordinates. Half the students stared blankly at the board, their minds desperately trying to grasp what the teacher was saying, but failing. Jace paid no mind to the teacher as he lay his head upon the desk, his head pounded and mind screamed with the whispers of others thoughts. His eyes clenched tightly together as he tried to discern what these whispers were trying to tell him, but couldn't understand as they overlapped each other and continued to get louder and louder as the day had continued on.

As Jace looked slowly around the room, a whisper that seemed to come from everywhere reached his ears. It was only a single word. Danger. It blared like an alarm screaming and flashing with lights. His stomach turned with unease as he slowly raised his eyebrow, brilliant green eyes searched for where this danger was coming from, but could see nothing.

Jace frowned. What was this danger? What did this danger want? His heart began to steadily pound faster when the whispered voice went quiet and the voices in his mind became but a murmur in the back of his mind. The sinking feeling of dread settled heavily over him. Whatever was about to happen, was not going to be good. He knew this was something inside of him, perhaps some ability, that was warning him of danger and that he had to get out.

The consistent speaking of his teacher, Mr. Brudex and the scratching of pens or pencils against parchment was the only thing heard. Why? Why would those the whispers stopped? He questioned himself with worry gnawing at his stomach. "Mr. Brudex, can I got to the les toilettes (the bathroom)?" Jace questioned as he raised his hand.

"Uniquement pour les toilettes M. D'amour." (Only to the bathroom Mr. D'amour.) Mr. Brudex warned. Jace had a habit of saying he needed to go to the restroom or nurses office and then ditching for the rest of the day.

"Of course Mr. Brudex." Jace replied with a charming smile. He stood from his chair and made his way towards the door. He froze as his heart pounded against his chest as the sudden sound of a loud explosion howled in his ears. The next thing the seventeen year old knew was he was flying through the air before slamming against the wall besides the glass windows.

The last thing Jace saw was a blinding white light. The screams of those around him echoed in his ears before the teen lost consciousness and slipped into blackness.

Nearly Two Hours Later

"Hello? Est-ce que quelqu'un a-t-il?" (Is anyone there) The sound of screaming voices met Jace D'Amours ears as he gave a pained groan. His eyelids fluttered and his head spun. Nausea burned in the back of his throat as the raven haired teenager finally opened his eyes. The sight of a practically demolished room caused a harsh confusion to settle over the teen. The last thing he remembered was flying through the room and seeing a white light. He shook his head, but winced at the pain the laced through his body. That was a bad idea, he decided.

Jace groaned again as he pushed himself onto his side, his arms shaking from the strain. His body screamed in protest as he tried to fight consciousness. The weight of desks and walling on top of him caused a hiss to admit from his lips. Broken pieces of glass dug into his skin as he tried to push the pieces of debris off of his body. His weakened state continued to make his arms shake with strain before he finally gave in and fell back onto the littered flooring in exhaustion.

"D'amour is that you!?" A voice called out again. The voices in his mind were oddly soft and gentle, as if they knew he was in pain. Or perhaps it was his mind subconsciously making them quieter. Whatever the reason, he was glad. a He felt relief settle over him as he realized that there was other people still alive and that they hadn't died from the explosion.

"He –" Jace's sore and hoarse voice caught in his throat as he tried to talk. His throat burned from how parched it was.

"D'amour!" The voice called out again. The voice sounded more frantic as they searched for them. Jace licked his lips and took a deep breath, as he got ready to bring himself more pain with what he was about to do.

"Par ici!" (I'm over here.) Jace yelled out. He coughed harshly as his chest heaved with the burning pain that spread through him.

"D'amour!" The voice called out. "T'ank God." The figure sighed out and hopped, jumped and walked over the debris through out the room.

"Wat 'appened?" Jace questioned tiredly from his pinned position. Worried eyes looked him over as they checked him out. "Don' tink somethin's broken." He replied softly with a small smirk at the worried, searching gaze. "Perhaps yah can get tis the faire f**tre meh!" (fuck offYes. Someone set a bomb to go off.) The fireman stated with a frown. Jace's eyebrows rose at the unexpected statement. A bomb? Why would someone set off a bomb? He wondered to himself.

"Why?" He inquired.

"Nous ne le savons pas encore." (We don't know yet.) The fireman remarked as they stepped over and around fallen debris and unmoving bodies. "Êtes-vous tous droit?" (Are you all right?) He questioned as he noticed the wince escape before Jace could hide it.

"I'm fine mon ami (my friend). Jus' gotta rest some." He stated with another wince as his ribs gave an uncomfortable pull and throb. He was positive he broke something.

"Nous vous aidons à un hôpital et appeler vos parents pour leur faire savoir que vous êtes tous droit." (We'll get you off to a hospital and call your parents to let them know you're all right.) The reassured him after the traumatizing experience the young man just had, the fireman was positive the teen would more than likely want to see his parents.

"Merci." (Thank you) Jace stated with a small smile.

D'Amour Manor

A Few Hours Later

"Mere?" (Mom?) Jace called out as he slowly limped his through the front doorway. He had become worried when his mother and father had not appeared at the hospital after the resident nurse had taken to calling them for Jace. When he had been told that they hadn't answered, the worry had set in. His parent's were not known to not answer the phone when someone called. It was unthinkable. So now, he was worried for his parent's.

Silently, Jace limped his way down the short hallway and to the large staircase. He paused at the banister, taking slow deep breaths as his ribs pulled uncomfortably. Even with them wrapped, they still hurt after being broken from being flung across the room and then having heavy debris falling atop of him. His body was battered bruised from his recent traumatizing accident at school. Everyone was still trying to figure out how and why the school exploded. Many of the fireman and police were considering it being high school students tired of being picked on.

Shaking himself from those depressive thoughts, Jace painstakingly slowly walked up the staircase and towards his parent's room. Perhaps they were asleep? That they decided to call it in for a day and finally get that relaxation they deserved after working so hard to keep the bills paid and food on the table. "Mere? Pere? (Mother? Father?)" Jace called out with furrowed eyebrows. The unsettling feeling of something being wrong came over him as he looked warily around as he came upon the landing of the second floor.

"Yah asleep?" He questioned aloud as he took a left and made his short distance to his parents master bedroom.

Hesitantly he grabbed the metal doorknob and turned it slowly. It emitted a squeak as the door was pushed inward. His breath caught in his throat as brilliant greens widened at the disturbing and grotesque sight before him.

Blood.

It was splattered across the walls, the flooring and the ceiling. It dripped off of the bed in a persistent drip-drip noise as his fell upon the wooden floors. Jace couldn't seem to find words as he continued to stare at the mangled and torn bodies of his adoptive mother and father. How…? The thoughts formed chaotically. He felt dizzy and lightheaded as he walked further into the room, towards his parent's bed. The look of terror and pain engraved on their faces would be forever ingrained in Jace's mind as tears built in his eyes and fought to release. He squeezed his eyes closed and clenched his hands tightly into fist. His hands shook as he reached out and touched his hangs cold, bloody hand. "Cher seigneur." (Dear Lord) He muttered.

His eyes squeezed shut tightly together as he collapsed to his knees and released a sob that shook his body. Tears streamed down his pale face. He leaned forward, his hands gripped and pulled at his silky locks of black hair. "Veuillez ... dieu ... veuillez no. Pas père ou mère." (Please...god...please no. Not mother or father.) He cried out as he roughly shook his head.

"Pourquoi? Pourquoi est-ce arrivé?" (Why? Why did this happen to them?) He asked aloud to himself. His eyes remained clenched and his head turned down as he forced his eyes to remain away from his parent's cold bodies. Tears continued to stream down his cheeks as he stumbled to his feet. His body continued to shake from the strain it took for Jace to keep the sobs that wanted to desperately release from escaping once again. His parents had been the only people he had, that loved him for who he was. They had loved him unconditionally. They had saved him from the streets that they found him on, raised him as their own, and did everything in their power to show him he was loved. Even when he did do strange things that he could never explain, they had always told him they loved him and that he was just special, which was something they had already known.

Jace's heart ached, broken inside with the death of two loving and giving people. While they had been rich, they had never made a big deal out of it. Silently, Jace slowly opened his eyes with some trouble as the tears kept his eyes stuck close. With a shaky intake of breathe his eyes were slowly pulled back to look at his parent's bloody bodies. He nearly broke down once again and with some difficulty, he looked to the wall above his parent's bed and froze with terror gripping his heart.

The words that were written across the wall sent a cold chill down his spine, making the hairs on his arms and neck stand on end

You'll get yours soon enough.

With a shake of his head, and hands shaking with fear, Jace slowly stumbled backwards from the bed and turned on his heel and took off towards his bedroom. Slamming the door open Jace quickly lunged for his closet door and opened the doors and pulled out a black backpack and duffel bag. Unconsciously Jace began to pack anything he could get his hands on without truly thinking what he was doing. All he could think was run. Run far away from New Orleans and never come back and remain hidden and under the radar. Until he had the means to find the person that had murdered his parents and kill the bastard himself.

Without a second look back Jace ran from his room and back to his parent's room. Forcing his eyes away from his parent's bodies, he went to their dresser and grabbed their most valuable and expensive jewelry. Tossing them into one of his open backpack pockets, he left the bedroom quickly and jogged down the stairs, ignoring the pain that rocked through his body.

Coming to a stop at the bottom of the staircase, he tossed his full duffel bag near the door bag and picked up his backpack. Jogging to the kitchen he opened the cupboards and pantry and began to stuff his bag full of canned foods and boxed foods that could be easily cooked. At the top of the pantry he pulled down a metal box full of money used for food, but was now going to help Jace survive.

Tugging the backpack over his shoulders he walked to the stoves and quickly turned the burners on without fully lighting them. With a quick flick of the oven he turned it on and left it open a crack, enough for the heat to release. Rubbing his face tiredly, Jace turned away from the oven and stove and walked to the garage door and pulled it open. Flicking the light on he attached the closet door and garage door together, leaving it opened. Stepping into the garage he grabbed two gallon jugs filled with gasoline. Opening one of the cans he began to pull it over the garage floor and carefully walked backwards and poured it over to the floor as he walked to the kitchen and through it until he reached the stairs. With the rest of the gasoline he poured it over the staircase and up to the second floor and leading it towards his parents bedroom and his own bedroom.

Jace carelessly tossed the can off to the side as he slowly walked back down the staircase. Turning to the front door he pulled the duffel bag over his shoulder and opened the front door. It was dark out, leaving it easier for Jace to make a break for it after he lit the house on fire. Jace gave a shuttering breathe as what he was finally going to do set in. He was officially going to kill himself in this fire, and become someone else.

If those that were after him believed he was dead they wouldn't search for him and it would leave him some time to figure out what he wanted to do next. As well as find out who was after him so he could kill them first. With a small frown he pulled the rest of the gasoline can from what he used for the kitchen and garage and pulled the rest of it on the porch. Taking a few steps away Jace pulled out the lighter his father had given him for his fourteenth birthday and lit it.

"Je suis désolé la mère, le père. J'espère que vous allez enfin avoir la paix maintenant." (I'm sorry mother, father. I hope you finally have your peace now.) He muttered. With a small prayer releasing from his lips he tossed the lighter through the air. It spun in the air for a few seconds before finally falling to the pile of gasoline.

The reaction was instantaneous.

With a flare of fire, it gave a loud whooshing sound as it sped through the house. It didn't take long until the house gave a deafening explosion as the stove/oven finally caught fire and exploded.

Jace was long gone by time the explosion occurred. Already four streets down Jace ignored the aching pain in his heart as he headed for the nearest bus station.

Jace D'amour was going to be officially dead in the state of Louisiana.

Everywhere else was free game.

Those that were out to kill him and had killed his parents would soon wish they had never crossed him.

He was out for blood and he would get his justice...

Even if it might cause his death. He would get his answers and his revenge.

Chapter Text

Two Years Later

18th April 1995

Somewhere In Mexico

"Nein bitte…Nein bitte…verletze nicht mama. Sie ist nicht so wie ich! Sie ist nicht so wie ich!" (No please…no please…don't hurt mama. She's not like me! She's not like me!Take the woman outside.) A voice ordered. It was male and very dark and cruel sounding. It frightened and angered the young child.

"Bitte…Nein! Nicht mein baby! Nicht mein baby!" (Please…No! Not my baby! Not my baby!) A woman's voice cried out as she fought against the men dragging her out of the small home.

"Mama!" The girl cried out with fear. Tears glistened in her eyes. "Ich liebe dich mama! Erzählen papa Ich liebe ihn auch!" (I love you mama! Tell papa I love him too!) She called out with tears dripping down her face as she continued to struggle in the mens hold. "Erzählen papa… Es ist nicht seine Schuld!" (Tell papa…it is not his fault!) She continued to cry out as she fought against her captives with everything she had. The metal in the house shook, levitated and flew around the house; the objects that are not metal explode in a mass of broken materials.

"Ich liebe dich meine süße Taube." (I love you my sweet Dove.) The young mother cried out as she disappeared from view. The sound of stomping footsteps down the stairs echoed heavily in the small home and left a chill of dread to settle over the child. The sound of jeers and yells from outside the house could be heard through the thin walls. Flames of torches flickered through the window's room, making the shadows within the room dance.

One of the men hit the girl; the sound of skin against skin made a loud smack. She winced as she fell to the floor; her face and temple burned from the pain. Her hair, so like her father's, cascaded over her face, shadowing it as the men began to toss oil of some sort onto the rooms floors, walls and furniture. Her head felt heavy and mind foggy from the hard hit to her head. Her body shook as she tried to move, to run from the bad men, to find her papa. Eyes of beautiful stormy blue, her father’s eyes, fluttered open and close, as her head hung down. "Mama…Papa…" She breathed out.

The young girl could barely understand what the two men were saying. She listened silently as the four men left, feet stomping down the stairs. Shakily she began to stand and coughed as the suffocating smell of smoke began to encase the room. Her eyes watched the flames as they grew with dread. Beautiful eyes widened in horror and fear. She stumbled to her feet and away from the flickering flames. She ran to the window and tried to break it open with her powers, but nothing seemed to work. "Papa!" She cried out, seeing her father struggling to fight the mob outside the house.

The men outside were speaking before they hit her papa in the head as others jeered and laughed. They held her mama and papa back, not allowing them to get to her. With shaking hands, the young child pounded on the window, catching the attention of her Papa, the man she had seen as her hero and idol. She loved her Papa; more so than she loved her mama, as wrong as that was. Her Papa protected her, always. But this time, this time he was not able to.

Father and Daughter's eyes connected. A silent message shared between each other. A look of dawning horror sparked in her father's eyes. "Ich liebe dich Papa…" (I love you papa.) She whispered. She coughed and tried to catch her breath. With the lost of oxygen she fell to the floor as her lungs began to collapse from the smoke she had inhaled. She can feel her skin beginning to burn, the pain raged through her body as her skin, muscles and bones begin to burn with a pain that no words could truly describe.

She screamed.

Now

Jace screamed as he awoke from the horror and pain as he tried to catch his breath. His arms shook as they tried to keep his body up. Brilliant green eyes rapidly scanned his small room in the shitty motel he was staying in, only to see nothing...only darkness. "What was tat?" He breathed out heavily with shuttered green eyes. He could still feel the burning pain as the fire licked away at his skin, muscles and bones inch by inch. He could feel his lungs slowly suffocating from the fiery fumes. He could feel his heart and chest aching from the internal emotions he felt at the sight of Papa's devastated expression, the expression of raw pain and anger dancing in his eyes as he listened to her screams. The thought of seeing one of his own children, should he ever have any, in such agony left him breathless with such disgust and fury, that he felt the room begin to shake.

Exhaling in and out slowly, Jace forced himself to relax as he finally allowed himself to collapse back onto the bed. The nightmare slowly receded to the back of his mind, as eyes hazy with exhaustion and pain, stared blankly up at the ceiling. These memories of past lives have been haunting him for the last year, ever since he went to see a psychic, who was surprisingly a psychic. She had helped him when it came to getting some of his questions answered. Though it left even more questions unanswered.

After the visit to the psychic the course of the last year had been hell as memories that were not his own, lives that he had never heard or read about, haunted him. Many times he experienced their deaths while others were memories of happier times, among others. Ever since the haunting dreams began he had experienced over a dozen different lives displayed for him to see. It didn't help that ever since he's been seeing these memories he's been visited by the dead constantly. They communicated with him, showing him their lives, to get him to help them in some way. He supposed the memory of the little girl he's just seen wanted him to find her father, if he was still alive, and give him a message.
Though what the message was, he didn't know.

Jace didn't truly care at the moment either. He didn't know how this ability came about, but he was assuming it was from the psychic he had visited. He wished he had never gone to see her, but she had answered some questions he needed. He found out the reason why his parents were murdered, which turned out to be a warning.

The bombing of his old school, had been him. He had been the one that caused it. From what the psychic told him, he was very powerful and the people that killed his parents, were out to kill him. Though he had a feeling about why they wanted to kill him, Jace could only wonder about the other groups he had learned of from the psychic. How they had become interested in him. How some wanted to gain possession of him, which was in essence his powers.

He was just a teenager, he wished these people would leave him alone. Jace couldn't seem to find the answer's anywhere he looked, but he wasn't going to give up until he found more about these different groups, that were trying to kill him, capture him, or get him to join them.
He didn't have concrete evidence yet, but he would.

In the last two years he had traveled around North America, South America, Europe, Africa, Antarctica, Asia and Australia, never staying in one place for too long. Through his travels he had found many different individuals from different cultures that had helped him with his abilities. When he had come in contact with a Voodoo Priestess she had explained what he was and that his abilities, which happened to be telepathy and empathy, allowed him to mimic, replicate, channel and manipulate any abilities he came across. He also had the ability of telekinesis and healing as well.

The Voodoo Priestess had explained to him that his mutant abilities allowed his DNA to "upgrade itself" so to speak, so any knew ability he came across became his own. She had warned him though that should he come across more than a few mutants at once, his mind and body would shut down as it raced to reconstruct itself for those new abilities. She warned him to stay away from any large group of mutants at the same time, unless he wished to fall into a coma or even die from the strain his body could undergo. Though she was hesitant to believe he could die, with his healing factor.

Jace took to heart her warning of the consequences.

He rarely neared large groups of people anymore. Only when he absolutely had to, did he go into big cities. Usually he kept to himself, moving through small towns and counties to get to his destination. He studied, researched and tried to figure out just how many people were out to kill him, capture him, or get him to join them, and why. He had, had some luck, when he came across a doctor that was renowned for experimenting on human specimens. It was after Jace had a little talk with him, was he finally given a name; William Stryker.

It seemed that this man did experiments on those with special abilities. Mutants. Jace knew instinctively that William Stryker wasn't directly connected with what's been forced upon him. Though Stryker did seem familiar to him, somehow. He just wasn't sure how yet. Perhaps he should have a chat with him as well and see if he would tell him anything of use.

With a sigh Jace rolled off the bed and stood. He rubbed his face tiredly before beginning his usual morning ritual of showering, dressing and eating something before heading out. Today he'd be leaving Mexico and heading for somewhere cold. He had been given a message from one of his many contacts that he had come to know over the years that someone he would be interested in, that could help him in some way, was in Canada.

It meant that he had to head to Canada and talk with this person.

"The joy of living on the run and hunting for those that are after me." Jace mused aloud with a smirk of amusement. He had gotten better at hiding his accent. It would be no good to be noticed by displaying any mannerisms that would bring attention to him. He hummed under his breath as he headed out of the motel room, his bags hanging over his shoulders. He walked towards a black and green Harley Davidson that he had acquired from a "friend".

Jace swung his leg over the seat and settled comfortably down on the seat after attaching his bags securely upon the motorcycle. It was an easy vehicle to move around in, should he ever come across someone out to kill him again and it was an easy getaway with a motorcycle.

With a smirk, Jace turned the motorcycle on and smiled as it gave a loud rumble. Life was as good as it could be at the moment. He just hoped his luck remained good for now, but knowing him, his luck wouldn't last for long. Without a backwards glance, Jace sped out of the motel parking lot and towards his new destination.

London, England

Number 12 Grimmuald Place

18th April 1995

"It has come to my knowledge that young John Potter is not the Boy-Who-Lived." The uproar that emitted from those words was deafening. "Silence!" The words were softly said but firm enough for silence to settle immediately.

"What do you mean that John isn't the Boy-Who-Lived?" A voice demanded from the left of a large room filled with chairs. James and Lily Potter looked angrily at Albus Dumbledore.

Albus sighed internally to himself and nearly rubbed his face tiredly. He expected this to happen, he had never doubted that the Potter's would become angry at the news. To learn that who they originally considered the Boy-Who-Lived was not true and young Harry Potter had been telling the truth all along. "Young Harry Potter is in fact the Boy-Who-Lived and was not trying to take the attention from his brother that night." The impending silence that followed was almost as deafening as the yelling had been.

"I thought you said he was a Squib?" James Potter questioned softly from the side. He had never wished to give away his eldest son. He had loved his son dearly, even if he was a Squib. His son was still going to be his heir, no matter what other Pureblood's thought. His parent's hadn't cared and neither had he, but Lily and Dumbledore had both agreed and ignored his protests.

James had still never completely forgiven his wife for seemingly throwing his son away without a second glance. It was because of him that he made sure John never acted too much like a prat, like he himself had when he was younger. He had also made sure John knew of his big brother and how much Harry had loved his baby brother.

"Ah...yes." Dumbledore stated and paused a moment before inhaling in deeply and then exhaling slowly. "He is technically a Squib...but he's what many of you all know...a mutant." Eyes widened and jaws dropped at the statement. He waited for a few minutes to let this set in before he continued to speak. "And it is to my knowledge that young Harry is probably one of the strongest, if not the strongest mutant alive." He gave another pause, which he knew was beginning to aggravate everyone. "I believe this is the power "the Dark Lord knows not". As Voldemort is fully wizard and has never experienced the abilities a mutant has."

James gave a scoff and chuckled derisively at the older man. "So your telling me you and my loving wife," he spat out, "Got rid of my child, my first born son, because you didn't believe the words of a five-year-old that was the only living witness to what occurred that night, because he didn't have magic?" He questioned mockingly. "Give me a break." He sneered. "I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't want to help us all after what you, we, did to him. Even if some of us were unwilling."

Sirius Black bit his bottom lip at his best friend's words. James Potter had changed after Harry had been taken away. His once playful and cheerful attitude had taken a darker turn. He became more aggressive and mature when it came to anything and everything. He didn't play pranks, crack jokes or even spend very much time with Lily. Sirius knew Lily was hurt by this, but Sirius couldn't completely blame James for it. Sirius himself was never given a chance to say goodbye to his godson or fight for him to remain with them. Sometimes, deep down inside, Sirius resented John being there with them while Harry was not. With a small frown, Sirius gave James shoulder a firm squeeze of support.

Remus Lupin played with his fingers as he looked down at the table. Much like Sirius and James, Remus found it rather cruel to have tossed Harry aside because he didn't have magic like they did. He loved his godson, John, but he did miss the adorable and sweet Harry that was always so kind and helpful. He was much like James, more so than Lily, when James finally matured. Much like James, Harry had, had a playful and carefree attitude, up until the night he watched his grandparents get murdered by Lord Voldemort. It was after that point that Harry had become quiet, reclusive, depressed and very sad. Harry had only ever truly smiled around James, Sirius, John and himself. Remus had noticed how Harry didn't go near his mother as much, rather liking to stay near his father and godfather. He could never figure out why, up until a few years ago, when he saw a side of Lily he had never thought could exist.

Albus sighed and frowned. The twinkle that was usually seen in his eyes had completely disappeared as he looked sadly at James. Ever since he and Lily had decided to send Harry away for his own protection, James had been very bitter, not very trusting, and suspicious towards Albus making any decision, whether it was for the Order or for Hogwarts. James had especially become guarded whenever his youngest children, Jonathan, Primrose, Elliott and William (the twins) and Belladonna, were brought up in conversation.

James didn't trust Albus with his children's safety and kept them as far from him as possible. With John, James didn't have much of a choice, as he had been the supposed "Boy-Who-Lived" but he still attempted to protect him and his other children. James guarded them with such conviction that it was impossible for anyone, unless they were trusted by James, to get close to them.

"I am terribly sorry for this James." Albus stated sadly.

"Save your apologies for someone that actually believes that your actually repentant for tossing a little boy aside like he was garbage." The other Order members bit their lips as the tension between their leader and James became stifling. "Now if you're excuse me, I have children to get ready for bed." James stated. He stood and roughly shoved the chair back into the table. "If you're willing Padfoot, Moony, I could use your help." He motioned towards his friends. Remus and Sirius quickly nodded and stood.

Lily bit her bottom lip with her teeth as she stared down at her lap where her fingers played with each other. Ever since she had made the difficult decision of sending Harry somewhere else for his protection, James had become formal and short with her. She knew her husband loved her, but he wasn't going to forgive her for making the decision of sending Harry away for the both of them. She wished she could take it back. She had been foolish and naive to believe that Harry would be safer away from the Wizarding World, with no magic to protect himself.

Lily had realized long ago that it had been a stupid and horrible thing any mother could do. She just hoped one day James, Sirius, Remus and Harry would forgive for what she had done. With no one noticing, silent tears streamed down her face as her dark red locks of hair covered and hid her face from view.

"Oh, yeah, I wish you luck on trying to find my son," James stated as he stopped at the doorway of the kitchen. "I've been trying for years. He's disappeared off the radar shortly after you tossed him aside." Many gasps of surprise and shock released at his words. "I hope he was taken in by a loving couple that gave him everything I wasn't able to. So, don't be surprised if he doesn't give two shits about what you have to say. I hope he tells you all to save your sorry asses yourselves." Without a backward glance James stepped out of the kitchen of Grimmuald Place with Sirius and Remus following. As much as his heart ached for the lost of his son, he had other little ones to take care.

He hoped one day he'd be able to see his son again and beg him for forgiveness, for not fighting hard enough to keep him with him.

New York City

Xavier's Institute For High Learning

20th April 1995

"Ms. Maximoff, if I may have a word with you?" Professor Charles Xavier inquired as he turned kind, bright blue eyes towards the beautiful young woman. Wanda Maximoff's beautiful electric blue eyes turned towards Charles Xavier and an auburn colored eyebrow rose with curiosity. She had been making her way towards Charles' office to question him on these dreams she had been having lately.

"What do you wish to speak with me about Professor?" The soft spoken woman questioned. At nineteen-years-old Wanda Maximoff was beautiful. With curly auburn hair that fell over her shoulders that encased her tanned face. Her beautiful blue eyes usually glimmered with amusement and mischief as she and her twin brother were always up to something.

Wanda was muscular with a statuesque figure and was every boy's and man's dream to have as theirs. However, Wanda was much too stubborn to allow just any man or boy date her. She was waiting for the perfect one, the one man that made her heart race and blood boil. She wanted a man that would treat her right and not as some sort of play thing or trophy to be shown off.

Charles gave a kind smile and slowly moved his wheelchair down the hallway, towards his office. Wanda followed beside him with light footsteps. She was dressed in a pair of black form fitting jeans and a dark red blouse that accentuated the curves of her tall five foot seven frame. "I have been searching for a mutant, over the last two years, that has continuously been just out of my grasp." He stated as he rolled into his office.

Wanda followed him inside and shut the door behind herself. "I'm not sure what this has to do with me, Professor." She remarked with some interest at where he was going with this.

"Ah, but it does my dear." Professor Xavier replied with a sparkle of amusement in his sky blue eyes. "I have finally tracked him to a specific location, in Canada. It has come to my attention that Magneto may be interested in him as well." It was barely noticeable, but Wanda stiffened at Charles' words and her eyes flickered around the room with discomfort.

There were few mutants that resided at Xavier's school that actually knew who Wanda and Pietro's father was. Just like few new that Wanda and Pietro had two younger half siblings residing in the school. "I see..." She stated with a slow nod of understanding. That was why Xavier wanted her to find this mutant. He wanted her to find him before her father, if she did find this mutant around the same time as her father's, she would have more success in fighting against them.

"I was hoping that you, Quicksilver, Phoenix, Cyclops, Polaris, Storm, and Ice Man, would be willing to go and get him." Charles stated as he rolled through the doorway and behind the desk in the middle of the room. Behind him was a wall made of glass that looked out at the grounds below. It was a beautiful and luscious garden that had a large Olympic swimming pool and fields that allowed the other mutants in the school to enjoy numerous games to play.

Of course, most of the mutants went to Bayville High School and Bayville Junior High School, while the youngest of the mutants (that were of the age for elementary school) that lived in the mansion, though it was really a castle, were taught by the adults at the X-Mansion. Wanda released a shaky sigh at the Professor’s request. She was still wary of her abilities, especially after what happened in Sokovia. However, if this meant helping another mutant escape the clutches of those after him, then she was more then willing to assist in this endeavor.

“Of course Professor,” Wanda agreed with a slight smile curling her lips. As much as she wanted to ask him why they needed so many of them to go get one mutant, she held her tongue and merely agreed to his request. “I’ll go get ready and inform the others.” She stated as she turned to the door. Her stomach was in knots at the idea of being sent out on a retrieval mission. It had been nearly a year since she’s been out of a mission. As Wanda reached the office door and pulled it open, the Professor spoke again.

“Wanda?” The Professor called out.

The auburn haired witch paused and turned to face the Professor with furrowed eyebrows. “Yes Professor?” She asked in concern.

“Be careful.” He cautioned from his place before the large windows. He never turned, as he remained staring out over the grounds. His intelligent and gifted mind was already far away, lost in his thoughts.

“Of course Professor.” She agreed slowly and cautiously, before stepping out of the office and closing the door behind her with a click.

Professor Charles Xavier sighed as he rested his arms upon the wheelchair. His sky blue eyes darkened in thought as he mused over what he had learned about Jace D’Amour. There was much to be discovered about the young mutant and much that would change with the appearance of him.

Times were changing and it would only be in time to see whether they would be good or bad changes.