Harry Potter: MageX

A week of magical cram sessions had passed, and it was like Jean was about to burst into flames herself. She stood in the mansion's courtyard, practically vibrating with excitement. The sun was shining down, turning everything a soft gold, and for a moment, she couldn't help but feel like she was gearing up for an epic adventure—or, at the very least, an adventure involving a lot of fire and maybe a couple of awkward moments.

Harry was in the center of the group, practically beaming. He had that look on his face—the "I'm about to show off something super cool and possibly dangerous" look that made everyone around him either stand a little straighter or start mentally preparing for something to go hilariously wrong.

"Alright, everyone," Harry said, trying to sound all serious, but you could practically hear the excitement in his voice. "Stick close and hold on. Flame-Travel can get a bit... well, fiery if you're not used to it. But don't worry, I've practiced enough that we'll land in one piece."

If there's one person who can never resist teasing Harry, it's Tonks. She grinned like a Cheshire cat and winked at him. "A bit of fire never hurt anyone. Well, except for my last attempt at cooking, but that's beside the point. Let's do this!"

Susan squeezed Jean's hand beside her, her voice barely hiding the excitement bubbling under her words. "You've got this, Jean. Stick with Harry, and everything will be fine."

Jean, her heart doing this weird little flip, flashed a nervous but determined smile. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Sirius, grinning like he'd just won the lottery, clapped Harry on the back with the kind of enthusiasm that suggested he was in the mood for some chaos. "Lead the way, Harry! Don't worry about the 'serious' part of this mission. We're in good hands... though if we end up in a volcano or something, I'm blaming you."

Harry raised an eyebrow but didn't let the teasing get to him. With a quick glance around at everyone, he held out his hands. They formed a circle, the warmth of the flames starting to rise around their feet. Jean couldn't help but feel the electricity in the air, and it wasn't just from the flames.

"Here we go," Harry said, voice steady despite the magic crackling around them. And with that, the flames engulfed them in a burst of fiery glory.

The world around them swirled, and Jean couldn't help but close her eyes. She wasn't sure if it was the flames or the sudden rush of travel, but she felt like she was flying through the air—definitely not something her average study session had prepared her for. When she opened her eyes again, they had arrived.

The Hogwarts courtyard stretched out before them, and Jean almost gasped. The ancient castle stood like something straight out of a fairy tale, with towers reaching for the sky and a whole lot of history hanging in the air.

"Well, here we are," Harry said, looking pretty pleased with himself.

Jean's jaw dropped, her eyes wide with awe. "It's... it's even more magnificent than I imagined."

Tonks, ever the professional (or not), tripped slightly on the cobblestones as she stepped out of the fiery aftermath, but somehow, she managed to catch herself. "Smooth landing, Harry. Really, that was impressive. Though, next time, let's avoid anything too dramatic. We wouldn't want to appear, I dunno, too heroic, right?"

Sirius, practically glowing with pride, slapped Harry on the back with so much force Jean was surprised Harry didn't topple over. "Not bad, kid. Not bad at all. This is the kind of chaos I live for."

Ororo, standing with a grace that Jean could only envy, nodded with quiet approval. "Well done, Harry. You've got a talent for this."

Susan, doing her best to keep her affection for Harry under wraps—though it was getting harder by the minute—gave Jean a reassuring smile. "See? Told you it would be fine."

As they walked toward the castle, the sense of camaraderie was almost palpable. There was still that undercurrent of teenage crushes and unspoken feelings, but right now, it didn't matter. What mattered was that they were in this together—navigating through magic, mischief, and maybe, just maybe, the beginnings of something a lot more than that.

Jean found herself laughing a little—nervously, but still laughing—at the thought of what could be next. With friends like these, she figured, anything was possible.

—

As they approached the grand entrance of Hogwarts, Harry had to admit—it was just as majestic as he remembered. The castle loomed ahead like some mystical relic out of a history book, its spires scraping the Scottish sky. A part of him still couldn't believe he was back here, even after everything. But that wasn't important right now. What was important? Jean's big day. And, okay, maybe not letting anything embarrassing happen while they were here. A little bit of self-preservation never hurt anyone.

Dumbledore stood at the entrance, as ever, looking like a wizardly combination of Gandalf and someone who'd had way too much coffee. His glasses twinkled with that signature amusement of his, which, if we're being honest, could sometimes be more unsettling than comforting.

"Ah, Harry, Jean, and friends," Dumbledore greeted them in that smooth, buttery voice of his that always made you feel like you were about to be involved in some deep philosophical discussion—or, at least, that he was about to steal your lunch and make it sound like it was your idea. "A fine arrival indeed. Welcome, Jean. I trust you're ready for your assessment?"

Jean, looking slightly more nervous than she let on, forced a smile. "Yes, Professor Dumbledore. I'm ready."

Dumbledore's smile widened into that knowing grin of his. "Excellent. I have no doubt that you'll do wonderfully. You have a bright future ahead of you, my dear." There was a dramatic pause, like he was about to impart some profound prophecy. "But first, let's see how you handle this."

Jean blinked at him, unsure whether he was being literal or if it was some weird magical double entendre. She didn't have time to figure it out before Harry jumped in with a chuckle. "Don't worry, Jean. Dumbledore's assessments are basically Hogwarts' version of a pop quiz. You'll survive."

"Pop quiz, you say?" Tonks piped up from behind them, practically tripping over her own feet. "Oh, I love pop quizzes. Especially the ones where no one knows the answers. You never know if you're going to pass or end up blasted into another dimension."

Ororo, standing poised and calm as always, glanced at Tonks and then at Harry. Her aura of control seemed to make everything around her quieter, like she was the eye of a storm. She gave Jean a quick nod of approval. "You will do well. No need to worry."

Sirius, who'd been leaning against the stone archway with an almost too-pleased look on his face, stepped forward. He clapped Harry on the back, hard enough that Harry nearly stumbled. "Well, if it isn't our favorite headmaster. I see you're still taking the 'wise and mysterious' approach to everything. Still, I'd say you've got a good bunch of students here. Especially you, kid." He winked at Harry, who rolled his eyes in response.

"Thanks, Sirius," Harry said, trying not to sound too sarcastic, but it was hard when your godfather was literally Sirius Black—with all the mischief and charm that came with it. "And yeah, Dumbledore's all about that mysterious wisdom stuff. Like he's got some hidden agenda with the universe or something."

Sirius shot him a grin that suggested he'd probably get caught up in whatever cosmic plot Harry was referencing, if only for the fun of it. "Look, kid, if things go sideways, you know who to call. Me. And if it's really messy, I'm the guy you want to clean up the mess. No one does chaos quite like me."

Susan, who'd been silently trying not to act too awkward around Harry (again, crush), leaned in slightly toward Jean. She smiled, but it was a little forced. "You've got this, Jean," she said in that sweet, almost-forgettable way of hers. Susan had a way of making people feel at ease, and despite the nerves Jean was working hard to hide, it did make her feel just a little more grounded.

Jean nodded, trying not to blush. If there was one thing she was trying to avoid today, it was being that girl—the one who kept getting distracted by Harry Potter. Like, you know, the whole 'flying, saving the world, prophecy stuff' Harry Potter.

"So," Dumbledore began, shifting the group's focus back onto him with the skill of someone who'd spent centuries commanding attention, "Shall we head inside? There is much to do, and time waits for no one."

As the group moved into the castle, the grand hall stretched out before them, a labyrinth of ancient stone, flickering torches, and the kind of magic that practically oozed out of the walls. Harry felt that familiar sense of awe, but he pushed it aside. Today wasn't about him. It wasn't about him at all. Not unless it was an accidental heroic intervention, of course.

The group followed Dumbledore through the corridors, their footsteps echoing in the silence. It was like walking through history itself—where every stone had a story and every corner held some forgotten secret. It was the kind of place that made you feel small and important all at once. Just one of the many things Hogwarts had going for it.

"So, Jean," Harry ventured, trying to break the awkward silence without coming across as too obvious, "Ready for the 'big assessment'?"

Jean shot him a quick smile, her eyes sparkling despite the nerves. "I'm getting there. Hopefully, I don't explode anything on the way." She laughed lightly, but Harry could tell she was still working on calming those fluttering butterflies in her stomach.

"Oh, come on, kid," Sirius chimed in, "If anyone here knows about explosions, it's me. I always know when things are about to go boom—but don't worry, you'll get the hang of it."

Ororo, who had remained composed up until this point, turned her head toward them. "Sirius," she said with a slightly raised eyebrow, "Are you encouraging destruction?"

"Me?" Sirius asked with mock indignation, "I'm just saying that sometimes, a little chaos is a good thing. Especially in a place like Hogwarts."

"Well," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling with that knowing twinkle again, "Sometimes, a bit of chaos is exactly what we need to learn, isn't it?"

The group fell into a comfortable silence as they moved deeper into the heart of the castle. Whatever lay ahead, it was clear that things were about to get a lot more interesting, and not just because of Dumbledore's endless cryptic wisdom.

With friends like these, maybe chaos wasn't such a bad thing after all.

—

As the group of misfit wizards and mutants shuffled down the majestic hallways of Hogwarts, it felt like they were starring in some kind of magical reality show. The place was ancient—stone walls that looked like they'd seen more history than a history book and portraits of people who were probably too old to be giving advice. Oh, and let's not forget the way the torches flickered like they were trying to get your attention, as if the castle itself was alive and whispering, "Hey, look at me! I'm magic!"

Dumbledore was leading them like some benevolent wizarding Santa Claus, all twinkly eyes and robes that fluttered like they had a mind of their own. It was almost as if he knew exactly what was about to happen—because he probably did. Let's face it, the guy always knows what's going on.

As they entered a sunlit room—more like a "grand ballroom" than anything a normal school would have—Jean's nervousness hit full throttle. She had come a long way to get here, and now, it was showtime. This was the moment.

And naturally, she was about to be judged by a whole panel of Hogwarts' finest: a bunch of professors who looked like they were auditioning for some version of "The Voice," but with wands instead of microphones.

The first one to greet them was none other than Severus Snape. Yes, the living embodiment of the word gloom. His greasy hair practically oozed with disdain, and the look in his black eyes could've melted stone. But what made Jean's stomach flip wasn't just his general unpleasantness—it was the way his gaze flickered toward her, narrowing in what could only be described as surprise. His face went from "I want to kill you" to "I've just seen a ghost"—and that ghost was Lily Evans. Harry's mother.

Snape's lip curled, and for a split second, Jean saw something in his eyes that wasn't venom. "Miss Grey, I presume?" he intoned, his voice as smooth and cold as a snake in a tuxedo. "I trust we are about to witness a most interesting display."

Jean, trying to pretend she wasn't a bundle of nerves, gave him a polite nod. "Yes, sir. That's me."

Before Snape could say anything more (probably something cutting, since he had a knack for that), Dumbledore stepped in. His eyes twinkled like stars—just enough to make you question whether he was reading a magical book or actually making the story up as he went.

"Ah, Severus," Dumbledore said in his warm, soothing voice, "no need for the ice. This is Jean Grey, a remarkable young witch, and she's here to show us exactly what she's capable of. I'm sure it will be most... enlightening."

The professors behind Dumbledore all gave their nods of approval—or, in Snape's case, a resigned sigh.

Professor McGonagall, who was wearing that expression she probably reserved for when someone had stolen her tartan scarf (and she wasn't happy about it), greeted Jean with a smile that could almost be described as... kindly. "Miss Grey," she said with a sharp tone that still felt like a compliment, "I've heard you're quite the enigma. A pleasure to finally meet you."

Jean returned the smile, though her brain was still screaming, Oh my god, is this the part where I trip on something or make a fool of myself? "Thank you, Professor McGonagall. I'm excited to show you all what I can do."

Then there was Tonks. Ah, Tonks. The embodiment of chaotic energy in human form. If anyone was going to lighten the mood, it was her. She was already halfway through a wave when she tripped over her own feet, landing with a dramatic flail that caused her to momentarily disappear behind a stack of books. She popped up again like an over-caffeinated meerkat. "Wotcher! Don't mind me, folks! Just making sure the floor's still in the right place," she said, flashing her signature grin.

Flitwick—standing on a stack of books like he was trying to make himself visible in a sea of tall people—chimed in, his high-pitched voice full of excitement. "Ah, new talent! Always a treat! I'm eager to see what you've got, Miss Grey!"

Professor Sprout, who looked like she'd been born in the greenhouse and had never seen a plant she didn't want to talk to, nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes, welcome, Miss Grey. We've been waiting for this day!"

It was like a cast of quirky characters from some magical sitcom, and Jean was the guest star. But her nerves, though still present, started to ease just a little. At least she wasn't being judged by a bunch of complete sourpusses... except for Snape, who was still giving her that "I'll judge you with my entire soul" look.

Dumbledore waved his wand with that characteristic flair—like he was flicking a piece of lint off his shoulder. "Shall we begin the practical examination, Jean? If you're ready?"

Jean stepped forward, trying her best not to tremble like a leaf in a windstorm. She'd practiced for this moment—at least, she hoped she had. But there was one problem: she didn't have her own wand yet. No, she was borrowing Harry's wand—again. Harry's holly wand with a phoenix feather core, which felt, well... strange. Like wearing someone else's shoes that didn't quite fit. But hey, desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Take your place," Dumbledore said, gesturing to a small area in the center of the room. "Show us what you can do."

Jean stood tall, breathing deep. This was it. No pressure, right?

Sirius—who had been standing to the side looking like he was trying to make the whole situation less formal by practically lounging against a column—shot her a grin. "You've got this, Jean," he said, his voice filled with that signature smirk he wore like a second skin. "If you blow up the room, I'll help you clean up. But let's try to keep the property damage to a minimum, yeah?"

Jean managed a nervous laugh, giving him a thumbs up. The last thing she needed was to blow up a school that was older than her entire family tree.

So, there she was—standing in front of the Hogwarts faculty, surrounded by magic and the expectation of a grand performance. Just your average teenager in a magical world trying not to freak out.

Easy, right?

Right.

—

The room was buzzing with that magical energy only Hogwarts could generate. Jean stood in the middle, slightly unnerved but trying to act cool—like someone who hadn't just been handed Harry Potter's wand for the first time in front of an audience of Hogwarts' finest. It felt a little bit like being given a legendary guitar and told to rock out in front of the world's harshest critics. No pressure, right?

Harry, standing to the side with Ororo, Susan, Tonks, and Sirius, was doing his best to hide his excitement. Sure, Jean was handling his wand like a pro, but that didn't stop him from feeling a little proud. After all, she was about to prove she was the real deal, and Harry couldn't help but hope they were witnessing the beginning of something legendary.

Dumbledore, looking like he belonged in a painting with a twinkle in his eye that suggested he knew every secret in the room, was watching with that trademark, almost-unsettling patience.

"Whenever you're ready, Jean," he said, giving her an encouraging nod.

Jean took a deep breath, raised Harry's wand with the confidence of someone who'd been practicing magic for years (which she had—just not this kind of magic), and waved it in the air with an elegant flick. "Wingardium Leviosa," she intoned, her voice steady.

The feather on the desk in front of her lifted smoothly into the air. Not bad for a first try. The room was quiet, and Harry caught Sirius giving him a raised eyebrow like, Yep, I knew she was awesome.

Snape, however, seemed unamused. His trademark sneer was firmly in place, and Harry could see the slightest hint of tension in his jaw.

"Well done, Miss Grey," Dumbledore said, his voice warm. "Now, let's see what else you have up your sleeve."

Jean nodded, her determination setting in. She quickly moved on to more complex spells—things like Incendio to start a small fire in midair (okay, she didn't burn the whole room down, so that was good) and Lumos to light Harry's wand tip up like a mini lighthouse. Every spell was executed with grace, a mix of power and precision. Even Snape—who had the emotional range of a brick wall—was giving her an appraising look, though he was quick to hide any softening of his typical gruffness. He'd been too surprised for comfort when Jean first appeared and reminded him of Lily. But he quickly buried that under layers of sarcasm.

"Not bad," he muttered, looking like he might've just tasted something sour. "Not bad at all."

Jean was starting to look a bit smug now, which was pretty understandable. She could almost feel the professors shifting in their seats, maybe even trying to come up with ways to challenge her. But what could they throw at her that would be harder than living with the X-Men?

Then came the moment. The one that made everyone stop and pay attention.

The Patronus Charm.

Now, for most witches and wizards, this is a big deal. It's like the magical equivalent of playing the piano concerto in front of a packed hall without messing up a single note. Only the very best can pull it off, and it's not easy. But Sirius had taught it to Harry, and Harry had passed on the lesson.

Jean raised the wand, closed her eyes for a moment to focus, and then flicked her wrist with practiced precision. "Expecto Patronum!"

What emerged was not just any Patronus. It wasn't a fluffy rabbit or a mouse (those are for amateurs). No. A magnificent, blazing phoenix shot out of the tip of Harry's wand, its fiery wings lighting up the room like it was trying to set the place on fire. The professors' mouths hung open, looking like they'd just seen a unicorn in a tutu playing the violin.

"By Merlin's beard," Professor McGonagall whispered, her usually stern features melting into pure awe. Even Snape was blinking a bit, as if he were trying to reconcile what he'd just witnessed with his very existence. His lip curled into a begrudging smirk, but he didn't speak. He couldn't. He was impressed.

"Well done, Miss Grey," Dumbledore said, clapping lightly. His voice was filled with approval, his eyes glinting. "Quite extraordinary."

"You've exceeded all expectations," Professor McGonagall added, nodding sharply. "You truly have a gift."

Jean couldn't hide her grin at that. She was a little flushed, but the approval felt so good. It wasn't just about being accepted—it was about showing herself what she could do.

Sirius, leaning against the wall with his usual lazy smirk, let out a loud chuckle. "Well, Harry, looks like you've found yourself a keeper. Nice work." He tossed a wink in Harry's direction, who tried to hide his own smile, but let's be real, it wasn't working.

Tonks, bouncing up and down with barely-contained enthusiasm, added, "I knew she had it in her! You guys are going to need to keep up, or you'll all be eating her dust."

"Please," Harry said, rolling his eyes but clearly amused. "She's just getting started."

Susan, standing slightly off to the side and trying not to make it obvious that she was watching Harry and Jean like a reality show, gave a small smile. She'd known Harry for ages, and the way he was looking at Jean… well, it was clear there was something more there. And yet, Susan was doing her best to be a supportive friend. Totally not crushing on Harry Potter. No biggie.

Dumbledore, still beaming, stood up and clapped his hands together, pulling everyone's attention. "Well, it's clear to me that you have a very bright future ahead of you, Jean. It would be an honor to have you join us here at Hogwarts. You will, of course, have to pass the written exams, but based on what we've seen, I believe it will be a mere formality."

Jean's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. That means the world to me."

Sirius clapped Harry on the back so hard it nearly knocked him over. "Looks like we've got another troublemaker on our hands," he said, grinning like an idiot.

Harry, caught between his emotions and a moment of pure awkwardness, glanced at Jean. Their Hogwarts adventure was about to get a whole lot more interesting. Probably with a lot more magic, chaos, and potential for embarrassing moments. But hey, that's just life at Hogwarts.

"Well, Jean," Dumbledore said, his smile a little mischievous, "Welcome to Hogwarts. The adventure begins now."

—

Later that afternoon, things got serious—and by serious, I mean "wandmaker with a capital W" serious. After the whole magical assessment, which was way cooler than any magical exam I had ever taken (because who doesn't love watching Jean summon a blazing phoenix like she's auditioning for some wizarding superhero movie?), we were all invited to the Great Hall. But this wasn't just any Hogwarts feast. Nope. This was The Wandmaker Event. I could practically hear the wizarding world's collective heartbeat speed up as we entered.

And standing in the middle of the Great Hall like he was auditioning for Gandalf's role in The Lord of the Rings was Garrick Ollivander. He looked like he'd just stepped off a Renaissance fair float, complete with a wizarding robe that screamed, "I know a thing or two about wands, kid." His eyes were sharp—almost unnervingly so—like a hawk about to dive for dinner, and his nose?

Let's just say it could've doubled as a broomstick for a very ambitious bird. But, the guy was famous, and when you're famous for making wands, you don't exactly skimp on your wardrobe.

Dumbledore was standing nearby, his usual grandfatherly aura practically glowing. He looked like he had just stepped out of an old-timey wizard painting, ready to dispense both wisdom and random philosophical musings. "Ah, Mr. Potter," Ollivander said with a voice so smooth it felt like someone was petting a velvet pillow, "Always a pleasure. And this must be Miss Grey, yes? I've heard whispers of your talents."

Jean smiled, her usual calm demeanor holding steady even in the presence of such wizarding royalty. "It's an honor, Mr. Ollivander."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he added, "Indeed, Garrick. We've brought you here because Harry and Jean have come into possession of M'Kraan Crystals. It seems these might make for potent wand cores. Your expertise, as always, is invaluable."

Ollivander's eyes widened in that way that makes you think he was just told he had to teach a group of first-years how to summon a dragon. "M'Kraan Crystals, you say?" He turned the shimmering pink crystals in his hand like he was looking for the secret to the universe hidden somewhere in their facets. "I've read of these, but never had the privilege of working with them. They are... quite exceptional. And dangerous, I daresay."

Jean nodded, her determination practically glowing brighter than the phoenix she had summoned earlier. "We're ready for it, Mr. Ollivander."

Harry—who was all about going full throttle when it came to adventure—chimed in, "We trust your judgment. Just need the wands to match our... abilities."

Ollivander gave them an approving look, which honestly felt like getting the nod of approval from the coolest grandpa on the planet. "Very well, then. First up, the wood. The wood is crucial, as I'm sure you both know. For cores this powerful, we need something that will balance their strength."

With that, he led them to a table piled high with various wand woods, each one practically humming with potential. It was like the buffet of magical materials, and Jean and Harry were about to make their pick. Ollivander, ever the dramatist, picked up a piece of ebony. "Ebony," he said with a flourish, like he was about to deliver a TED Talk. "Excellent for those with a strong sense of self. It offers protection and works wonderfully for defensive magic."

Next, he picked up a winding piece of vine wood. "Vine wood, on the other hand, is flexible and responsive to those with strong intentions. It responds to the wielder's heart, if you will."

Lastly, he held up a piece of yew. "Yew is a rare wood—powerful, even dangerous. It has a reputation for amplifying the magic of those who wield it, often for great deeds or even... darker purposes."

Jean wandered over to the pile of woods with all the grace of someone who had literally been trained to choose the best option. After testing a few, her fingers brushed over a piece of holly. The moment her hand touched it, her face lit up, like she had just found a perfect pair of shoes on sale. "This one," she said confidently, lifting it like she was already part of some magical ballet.

Harry, ever the bold one, picked up a piece of elder wood. The moment he touched it, something clicked. It felt like when you finally find that one pen that never runs out of ink, and you just know it's going to be your new favorite. "This is the one," he declared with the finality of someone who'd already made up their mind.

Ollivander examined their choices, stroking his chin like a wizarding Sherlock Holmes. "Holly for Miss Grey, elder for Mr. Potter," he muttered. "Excellent choices, though... we'll need to balance them with something further. Something to handle the potency of the M'Kraan Crystals."

With a grand flourish, Ollivander pulled out a small pouch filled with various shimmering metals. "These metals—each with unique properties—might just be what we need."

Jean immediately reached for a vial of gleaming gold. "This one," she said, handing it over like it was the most natural thing in the world. "It feels right."

Ollivander's eyes gleamed with approval. "Ah, adamantine. A metal known for its durability and strength. It will complement your wand beautifully."

Meanwhile, Harry, who had been inspecting the remaining vials, found one that seemed to hum with a mysterious energy. It was a soft purple metal that shimmered like it had been pulled from the very fabric of a storm. "This one," he said, his eyes lighting up. "I think this is it."

Ollivander studied the vial with a mixture of awe and curiosity. "Vibranium," he muttered, the name rolling off his tongue like it was the secret ingredient to the most powerful potion ever brewed. "An incredibly rare metal. It will complement the elder wood and the M'Kraan Crystal perfectly."

Jean and Harry exchanged a look of mutual excitement, as though they were holding the keys to a magical kingdom—and, in a way, they were.

"Well then," Ollivander said, a rare smile creeping across his face, "I think we're about ready to make some wands that will go down in history."

---

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