Title: Mutated (might be changed...)

Rating: T (subject to changes)

Characters: Mostly Harry Potter and Remy LeBeau/Gambit; some others will be included

Warnings: light/dumbledore/weasley/granger!bashing, jean/scott!bashing, possibly mild slash (kissing, cuddles etc.)

A/N's: Hello! I notice that this certainly isn't the largest Xover archive there is... I know next to nothing about the X Men (except for occasional watching of the TV Show Wolverine and the X Men), so please PLEASE don't go on a rampage if I mess something up. I'm hoping it's mostly correct, but I'm using Wikipedia and the likes, so... might not be accurate... Plus I'm tweaking some things so that they match what I want! I know that Remy's accent is terrible in this, but I've never written anyone with an accent before! I'm sorry... Don't hurt me! I'll try to update every time I reach 10,000 words (or thereabouts), so updates will be sporadic, to say the least. Please enjoy! Don't hate...

Disclaimer: I don't own the Potter!Verse or the XMEN!Verse, so don't sue me!


Gambit flew on silent feet over the rooftops, perfectly at ease in the velvet darkness of the night, a small grin on his face. Messing the feral - Logan - was too much fun. As he passed over a particularly dark alley, the shadows seeming all-consuming, he heard a small noise that stopped him abruptly.

There was an innocent in there.

Backtracking, he dropped gently into the blackness, keen, red on black eyes piercing the oppressive darkness. The child whimpered again, louder and slightly to Remy's left.

"Please! Please don't, Uncle Vernon!" He murmured, accent clearly British, "I promise to not do anymore freaky things!"

The distress of the child - who was actually an abnormally small, skinny teenager - was becoming more and more apparent, and Remy had to restrain himself from finding this 'Uncle Vernon' and teaching him about true 'freakiness'. Unable to watch the innocent suffer, he slowly approached the clearly abused teen.

"What's yo'r name, cheri?" he murmured quietly, just loud enough to be heard.

The whimpering stopped instantly, and Remy felt more than saw the boy move away from his voice.

"Wh-who are you!" he yelped.

"I be Gambit, cheri," responded the mutant softly as he made a show of extending his empty hands and sitting cross-legged on the ground, "but yo; may call me Remy."

"What do you want? Why are you here?" He seemed to be less tense now that Remy was sitting and seemingly unarmed, but still wary.

"I heard you ou'side de alley, cheri, an' I couldn' leave yo' here withou' tryin' ta help."

"Why would you want to help the freak?" snapped the youth. Remy smiled slightly.

"Would yo' like ta see a trick, cheri?" he asked, using the same voice he would on an injured animal.

"What does it involve?" was the wary response.

"Yo' ain' no more freak den me, cheri," he said instead of actually answering the question.

"Prove it!"

Gambit reached into his coat slowly, pulling out one of his cards. He watched the shadows where the boy was hidden, keeping an ear out for trouble, as he charged the card with energy.

A pinkish light filled the dark space, illuminating it slightly like a dying candle.

"Would yo' come out da shadows, cheri?" coaxed the mutant, his slightly glowing, unnatural eyes soft.

The shadows shuffled around a bit, before the skin-on-bones form limped out of the darkness to the edge of the small ring of dim light.

Rags hung from his fragile form like the weed witches hair, grey in colour and torn into pieces. The long, thin arms hung limply, one bent into an odd shape and the other covered in bruises. The boy's face was delicate, like spun glass, with only a puffy eyelid, swollen closed and deep purple, obscuring a bright green iris, to show that the teen wasn't ok.

"Oh, cheri," murmured Remy softly, the card's charge diminishing as his arm dropped into his lap.

"My name's Harry," murmured the teen, head hung in embarrassment to cover the flush of pink spreading over his cheeks like a sunset.

"Would yo' come wit' me ta my home, Harry?" asked Remy softly. The glowing green eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Why? He questioned sharply.

"Ta care fo' yo', cheri," he murmured, "turn back any damage done ta yo' an' den let yo' decide what yo' wan' ta do."

Harry mulled it over. It was clear that the man - Remy - didn't have the intention to harm him.

"Do you live alone?" He demanded.

"O' course, cheri; nobody wan' ta share wit' de t'eif."


"I got ta earn somet'ing somehow, cheri."

Although the suspicion in Harry's eyes was obvious, he nodded.

"Until I can care for myself," he enforced, receiving a nod.

"O' course, cheri," murmured the thief softly.

"It's Harry," he grumbled as he followed Remy out and into the night.

The Dursley's were on holiday in America. New York, to be exact. This surprised Harry for two reasons.

Firstly, they had brought Harry with them. Always, Harry was left with nasty relatives, babysitters, or just on his own. For the first time ever (excluding going to Hogwarts), Harry was outside the UK.

Secondly, New York had the highest population of known mutants - 'freaks', as Vernon put it - in the world today. Harry sometimes wondered if his relatives really were as stupid as they seemed.

They had been complaining about the large mutant population one moment, and then booking a flight to New York the next. Not only that, they were bringing their despised nephew with them.

Harry couldn't believe he didn't see it sooner.

On the last day of the holiday – which had been somewhat shorter than normal – Vernon had told Harry to get in the car. Without thinking, Harry complied. They drove for hours in silence, just the two of them, until they came upon a dark alley.

"Out, boy," growled the obese man. Harry stared at him, stunned.

"Uncle Vernon?"

"OUT!" he shouted, ugly face turning a beetroot colour. Harry was stunned; so much so that he didn't move. Vernon's red face turned purple as he tore off his seatbelt, shoved open the door and dragged Harry into the alley. When there, he threw Harry down and proceeded to beat Harry harder than before.

As the sun started its slow descent and the sky became pink, Vernon left. Harry, curled up in a defensive ball and bruised all over, started to cry.