By the time Scott got back to the castle, he felt like something the cat had dragged in - and was just a tad guilty, as well, as his theory that the kids would be safe had proved false. Dumbledore and Storm had both tried to point out to him that, for the most part, things had gone very well, and even the slowest groups had gotten through the most basic things, demonstrating that they could make it in a non-magical world if they had to.

"And Neville Longbottom is perfectly fine," Remus Lupin had pointed out, before Scott had left London. Scott liked the quiet-spoken man, thought him eminently sensible (which was the highest compliment Scott could bestow). "Even more to the point - you broke Bellatrix Lestrange's wand. That was . . . an incredible service and boon to us, and something most of us couldn't have done. Not," he added, "that I'd view Neville as 'bait,' but more good came from this than bad."

Scott supposed he had a point. He still didn't like it that a boy had been attacked on his watch. He'd had a bellyful of that last spring.

He was slamming equipment into crates that Dumbledore had promised him would be sent back to Westchester tomorrow afternoon, by magical means. Scott hadn't asked what the means were as long as it all got back. A knock on the trapdoor interrupted him and he stalked over to open it - half expecting it to be Granger. It wasn't. It was Harry Potter. "Hermione said you were going back to the States as soon as you were done with the tests - not staying to term end."

Scott shifted his weight sideways to let Harry climb the rest of the way up into the room. "Not much reason to stay," he replied.

"No, I guess not," Harry said, though he sounded . . . disappointed . . . as he glanced around. "Where are the rest of them?"

"Who?"

"The X-Men. Hermione said your X-Men were here. I was, well, sort of hoping to meet them."

"They headed back Stateside after the test. I came here to pack up, then I'm headed out tonight."

"By plane or portkey?"

Scott blinked behind his glasses. "What's a portkey? No" - he held up a hand - "don't answer that. I've had enough of magic for a month of Sundays. My ticket says Edinburgh airport. My only complaint is that I'm not in the cockpit." Scott shrugged. "I'm a bit of a control freak."

The kid grinned. "Sounds like Hermione." Then he glanced down. "Thanks, for what you did for Neville."

"I almost got him killed."

"That wasn't what I meant. We're all in danger, now, and you were right. The Death Eaters - and Voldemort - didn't attack you. Bellatrix Lestrange did, and she's a bit, well, not right in the head. I'd bet my broom that Voldemort's going to be furious with her. She got her wand broken."

"How can you be sure she wasn't there on his orders?"

"Because it was just her. If Voldemort had really meant to attack you, he'd have sent more than one person. It'd have been a real battle, not just a skirmish, you know?"

Scott nodded, "I see. And it sounds like you've been thinking on what I said - knowing your enemy, and how he operates."

"I have, sir."

"Good on you."

The conversation faltered, and Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. "Listen - uh, I had a question . . . but, well, I don't guess it matters, if you're going back to the States now."

Scott felt both his eyebrows go up. Mutant or wizard, kids had a funny way of wandering all around whatever it was they wanted to ask. "What is it?"

"My mate Ron's dad - he likes Muggle stuff. I mean, really likes it. He collects doorknobs and screws."

It took all Scott's self-restraint not to laugh. "Doorknobs?"

"Well, anything like that. And, um, I, er, sort of found out that one of the things he's always wanted to know is how a plane stays in the air."

"Why not just explain then?"

"Well, I don't know!" Harry protested, clearly frustrated. "I mean, Hermione might, but, well, it's not the sort of thing I learned in junior school, right?"

Scott grinned. "Your dad wasn't in the air force. I didn't have much choice about learning. I could identify every jet they flew by the time I was 10 - from the back, front, side, or underneath."

"Wow," Harry replied.

Shrugging, Scott said, "Some kids memorized dinosaurs, I memorized jets."

"Well, that's why I was wondering if, er, I was hoping you might be going back to London on the Hogwarts Express - so I could introduce you to Mr. Weasley. He'd have ever so many questions, and you could tell him about planes and how they stay in the air." He shrugged. "Well, it was just an idea."

"I could send you some books to give to him."

Harry tilted his head. "That might work - but I'm not sure how well he'd understand them."

"Kids' books are pretty simple - with pictures even."

"Yeah, but Muggle kids know things magical adults don't, like how to turn on the telly or a light switch. It may sound ridiculous, but then, magical kids know things I don't."

Scott just nodded, seeing Harry's point. He wasn't sure even a book meant for children would make sense if one suffered the complete lack of Muggle-world knowledge that he'd seen in some of his students this semester. "I'll see if I can think of something and send it to you for him. Even if I have to write it out. After teaching here for half a year, I have some idea how I might write an explanation that would make sense to him without insulting his intelligence. And if there was something he didn't understand, you could help 'translate,' so to speak."

The boy grinned widely, reaching out to shake Scott's hand. "Thanks. Just - thanks. They've been like family to me, the Weasleys. I wanted to, well, do something in return. They're proud, and won't take handouts, so I have to be careful. But this - I know it's what he most wants to learn. And the chance to maybe . . . give back. It would mean a lot. So just . . . thanks."

Scott nodded, struck by the fervor of Harry's need to return something for the generosity of being taken in and given a place in the world. Scott understood that all too well - it was everything he felt for Charles Xavier.

And it gave him an idea. "I'll see you around, Harry."

Christmas dinner was silent, awkward and plain sad after Percy had left and Harry had come thumping-angry back into the house from his perambulations with Minister Scrimgeour. All the joy of the morning seemed to have been leached out of everyone. The food tasted dry and lukewarm.

After, Ginny went to the kitchen to help her mother clean up, wishing fervently that Hermione had come to the Burrow for Christmas after all (even if she understood why Hermione hadn't - damn that prat, Ron). Fleur was driving her mad.

Abruptly, all the dishes began to rattle and the house to shake as something ROARED overhead like the sound of a hundred horses stampeding. Ginny and her mother turned from the sink and everyone in the living room was on their feet looking up, as if afraid the old house might tumble down around their ears. "I did not think England suffered earthquakes?" Fleur asked.

But abruptly, Harry grinned and ran for the back door. "That was no earthquake! That was a jet!"

"A jet?" Ginny's mum asked. "What's a jet?"

"It's a type of airplane, Mum," Ginny replied absently, leaving the pile of dishes near the SpellClean and hurrying out the door after Harry. Her family - and Fleur and Remus - crowded out behind.

They were just in time for the returning roar of the jet, sounding louder and slower than before and then it was there: big, black and awesome, hanging in the sky over the field behind the Burrow. Slowly, slowly, it settled down in the field behind the house, the force of its landing blowing free any snow that the heat of the plane's engines didn't simply melt.

Ginny glanced around at her father; his mouth hung open and his face shone. "Oh, my word . . ." was all he managed.

Harry wasn't waiting. He sped through the back garden, bounding over the light cover of snow, shouting - "The X-Jet! The X-Jet! He came!"

And Ginny suddenly got it . . . and started to grin as well. "It must be Mr. Summers." She burst after Harry. She had no idea why Mr. Summers had come, but given the way Harry was acting, this both was - and wasn't - a surprise. She could hear Ron pounding after and then they'd both caught up to Harry at the rear fence, clambering over. "What's Mr. Summers doing here?" she asked. "I thought he'd gone back to New York?"

"He did," Harry said. "But I asked him -" He cut himself off. "Well, I thought he was going to send me a letter or something with pictures."

Clear as mud, Ginny thought, but Harry was already off again across the pristine whiteness of the field. She glanced at Ron, then back at her family, slowly trundling after, her father in the middle of them, eyes glued to the blue-black jet. Her mum walked along behind him, wearing her new hat and glancing from the plane in her field to her awestruck husband.

Ginny turned back in time to see a ramp lower from the plane's underside, a staircase extending from it. Even at this distance, she could hear the hiss of hydraulics - a new word for her now.

And then they were coming out, the X-Men, wearing leather as black as the plane and looking a bit like space aliens, but laughing, friendly ones. Harry practically assaulted poor Mr. Summers with his hug, and Mr. Summers - Cyclops - laughed. "Hi, Harry," she heard him say. "Merry Christmas."

He wasn't alone. Storm followed him down, and then three students. Ginny shot a glance behind to where her family was slowly straggling up, goggling at the jet. Fleur, she noted, had seen Storm and yes, that was a jealously assessing glance. In Ginny's opinion, Storm was twice as pretty as the French girl, Veela or not. Now, Storm smiled at Ginny and took her hands. "It is good to see you again. Ginny, right?"

"That's right."

The other three - apparently students - stood back while Harry, with Ginny's help, made introductions between the Americans and the Weasleys. Remus came forward to greet Mr. Summers with a grin, "That's quite a ride you've got there."

Cyclops glanced behind him, almost as if he'd forgotten the plane (which she doubted). "She's pretty. And fast." It was said almost offhand, but he spoiled it because he couldn't help grinning. Remus laughed. So did Bill.

Her father still appeared to be stunned.

Stepping forward, Mr. Summers offered him a hand. "Mr. Weasley? Harry told me you have a fascination with planes. We were in the neighborhood -"

One of the students behind snorted and Storm had raised a hand to cover her grin.

"- and thought we'd stop by. I understand you'd like to know how a plane stays in the air?"

Ginny's dad just blinked, then turned to Harry. "You . . . he . . . " He stopped talking and turned back to Mr. Summers. "Yes. It seems most incredible that such a heavy object can remain airborne without magic."

"Engineering," Mr. Summers replied. "I could explain, but I'm probably not the best equipped to do that, so I brought along a friend who can do it better than me."

"But probably not without confusing everybody," Ginny heard one of the students behind him say.

"Shut up, Bobby," Mr. Summers replied, albeit lightly. "I also thought you might like to meet him because he designed this jet."

"He designs planes? How absolutely splendid!"

"Well, I guess I should say he modified it. He's a biochemist by trade, and a medical doctor. But he invents things for fun. Although," he warned, "I wanted to introduce him first as he's a mutant, like the rest of us. Just a . . . more obvious one." Turning back, he called, "Hank!"

And out lumbered the big blue man who Ginny had glimpsed briefly at the Leaky Cauldron. Here, against the whiteness of the field, he seemed even more impressive. And more blue. And furry. She heard both Fleur and her mother draw in sharp breaths behind her, and one of the twins said, "Blimey!"

The blue man didn't bother to walk down the steps. Gripping one of the railings, he just flipped himself over the side, somersaulted in midair and landed neatly, before ambling over to join them. Ginny saw the boy Summers had called 'Bobby' smack him on the arm and he glanced sideways at him, grinning. "Dr. Henry McCoy," Mr. Summers was saying. "Hank, these are Weasleys - Arthur Weasley is who I was telling you about - along with Harry, Remus Lupin, and" - he paused, head tilted towards Fleur - "uh?"

"Fleur Delacour," she said, eyes not on him but on Hank. To Ginny's astonishment, Dr. McCoy bent at the waist in a courtly bow and spoke to her . . . in fluent French. Laughing in delight, Fleur curtsied back.

Well, Ginny thought, that was . . . unexpected. She'd thought Fleur would recoil in horror of the man's beastly appearance.

Now that introductions were past, the little knot of people began to break up. Dr. McCoy drew Ginny's father away and, pulling out a pad of paper from his pocket, began jotting things down, drawing diagrams, Ginny supposed. Bill had ambled over, too - and Fleur followed.

The twins and Ron walked over to the plane, necks craned up, mouths agape, and were joined by the three students, two boys (one huge) and a girl - the one called Shadowcat who'd saved Neville. Harry hung by Mr. Summers, and Storm picked her way through the snow to speak to Ginny's mum, smiling warmly. Ginny stayed beside her mother and listened. Beautiful Storm might be, but she lacked Fleur's hauteur and soon Ginny's mum was laughing with her as they discussed the tendency of the Y-chromosome to be fascinated by the fast and shiny.

Mr. Summers and Harry had now joined the others under the plane, and Bill and Fleur had walked over as well. Some of them were going inside. But Ginny's father was still deep in conversation with Dr. McCoy, talking animatedly and sometimes laughing. Ginny's mum and Ms. Storm (Ginny had never actually learned the woman's real name) were discussing gardening, with Neville listening in. Ginny resisted twiddling her thumbs, but also wasn't that inclined to go and join the group near the plane despite the other girl there. Shadowcat intimidated her, a bit like Hermione had at first. She seemed very self-possessed, and intelligent, and was apparently with the very, very, very large boy with the nice arm muscles. After half an hour, Ginny noticed the twins had disappeared along with one of the X-boys.

That . . . was probably not a good thing. Rather than mention it to her mother and worry her about what Fred and George might be doing to the poor, hapless Muggle, Ginny excused herself and headed back towards the house. "Fred! George!"

They didn't answer.

Ginny looked for ten solid minutes without finding them anywhere - but it never occurred to her to check the front garden, so when a huge explosion sent shards of glass (or something) skyward fifty feet, she was as surprised as everyone else who came running (wizard and mutant alike).

And there out front, they found Fred, George and the boy called Bobby, covered in smoke and snow and laughing their heads off. "Look at this!" George called, pointing to a giant glass . . . house? It was sparkling inside, as if lit by fairy lights - or Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Ginny realized what it was only a moment before the glass house erupted off the ground and exploded dramatically in the air. "Wicked, isn't it?" Fred asked the watchers. "Bobby here can enclose our fireworks in ice after we've lit them!"

Mr. Summers had a hand over his face. "Dear God. I should have known better than to bring Bobby. I buy him books and buy him books, but all he does is eat the covers off."

That took a moment for the rest of them to get, then Ginny's family broke up laughing. "We could say the same of Fred and George," Ginny's Mum said.

Having determined that Fred, George, and Bobby were not, in fact, destroying the Burrow, everyone returned to the back garden where Mr. Summers clapped his hands to get attention. "If we want to get this done before dark, I think we'd better shake a leg, people. Storm, you want to ride shotgun for me?"

"She's the only one not likely to toss her cookies," Ginny overheard Bobby mutter to the twins. "Wait till you see this part."

Glancing around, Ginny asked, "What do you mean?"

"Plane demonstration time," Bobby answered, grinning. "A lot more fun to watch than ride along for, trust me."

Storm had left Ginny's mum's side to join Cyclops and together, they headed for the plane. "Hank, I'll leave you to explain the maneuvers, okay?" Cyclops called.

"A vos odres, mon capitain."

"Very funny." But he and Storm had hopped the fence and were jogging back to the plane where it sat on the grass.

Blue Dr. McCoy turned to face all of them. "Before he starts the engines and requires me to shout, I'll say a few things about what you're about to see. The X-Jet is what we call a VTOL craft or jump-jet. That is, it's capable of a vertical take-off and landing. Most planes cannot perform such a maneuver as it requires a special set of engines. Ours are Pegasus swivel fans. Essentially, they begin engine thrust down, instead of backwards, and once the plane is sufficiently above ground, swivel back, as their name suggests, to push the craft forward. In addition, the X-Jet has a pair of Pratt and Whitney turbines located in the tail - the same used by many Lockheed Martin USAF planes from the SR-71 Blackbird - the world's fastest plane - to the new F-35 Joint Strike Fighter. The Pratt-Whitneys are what allow the X-Jet to break the sound barrier."

"It goes faster than sound?" Ginny's father exclaimed. "I'd heard that Muggles could make planes do that! It's called . . . make speed?"

"Mach speed, I believe you mean." In the field beyond, the plane engines coughed to life at a low buzz and the blue doctor raised his voice. "The speed of sound, or mach, is calculated by the speed of an object, or Vo, and the speed of sound in the medium in question, or Vs - usually a matter of air temperature. Thus, how many miles per hour sound travels can vary. Due to its size and weight, our jet is unable to break mach 3, but Cyclops has approached 2.8 in ideal weather conditions. That is . . . very fast." He grinned. "We won't be doing anything like that today over Devon. First, the plane would be here and gone before you could register it, and second, breaking the speed of sound creates what's called a 'mach cone' that runs ahead of the aircraft, spreading out around it. This is a shock wave and causes a 'sonic boom.' In short - it's extremely loud and shakes the ground even more than what you felt when we arrived . . . and I rather doubt your neighbors would appreciate it."

Ginny's parents laughed a bit weakly even as the engine noise rose from a purr to a roar and Dr. McCoy ended by shouting, "All the maneuvers you'll be shown today are done at low speed and close to the ground, so you can see them. That's actually quite a bit more difficult. If something goes wrong, the pilot has far less time to pull up before becoming a long, black, greasy streak in the snow."

His comment got a laugh from the Americans, but Ginny's family and guests looked between each other with something like alarm.

The engine noise increased yet again and Ginny found herself pushing her hands over her ears along with most of the others. She'd never heard anything so loud in her life, not even the roar of a dragon. On the field beyond, the plane had begun to raise itself off the ground, blowing snow and dirt as it lifted straight up, wobbling ever so slightly. Once it was a couple hundred feet in the air, it suddenly shot off towards the eastern horizon. "Whoo!" Bobby yelled in tandem with the twins', "Wicked!"

A hand shielding her eyes against the afternoon glare, Ginny watched the tiny speck in the distance turn and head back. Within moments it was screaming by overhead, sweeping up and up, twisting, and then coming down the other side like the curl on a Muggle roller-coaster. "Simple loop," Dr. McCoy called out, "but notice that at the top of the arc, they're flying upside down. You have to keep a strong sense of where the horizon is. I think he's going to go into a . . . yes - he's picking up acceleration via a turn. He'll come back in a moment and do a couple of barrel rolls."

And it happened exactly as Dr. McCoy had predicted. The black plane shot past, turning three times above them. "He has to do that maneuver fairly high up, as it's among those most likely to result in directional confusion for the pilot. Like I said - flying this low, he has no margin for error. He'd be dead in seconds. Fortunately, Cyclops' mutation grants him an extra-human sense of spatial realities. He doesn't get lost, he doesn't get turned around, and I don't believe any of us has ever succeeded in making him dizzy."

The plane was headed back east where it turned and came around again.

Upside down.

"I don't believe I need to explain that one," Dr. McCoy said, which netted laughter.

"Unfortunately," McCoy went on, "some of the more interesting precision maneuvers require a formation where the pilots are flying only a couple hundred feet off each others' wings. A single plane can't demonstrate those."

"I like a fellow who takes chances," George declared.

Dr. McCoy turned with a smile. "Actually, many of these maneuvers - while risky - are far from chancy. And there is a difference. Scott's logged I don't know how many hours in the air. He comes from a long line of pilots, and inherited that gift. It's not all his mutation, though that does help. He never takes on a maneuver in the air until it's pitch-perfect in the simulator. He may enjoy the adrenaline rush, but he doesn't harbor a death wish."

The plane had come back again, flying straight this time - very low to the ground. Abruptly, almost directly in front of them, it angled nose up and shot high, but not on a curve as before. This time it just went straight up and up, turning as it rose. "And that," Dr. McCoy said, "is his sign off. He'll be back to set her down." McCoy turned to look at Ginny's father. "Ready for a plane ride, Arthur?"

"What?" her father asked. "You mean - me? I could . . . I could ride in that plane?"

"Indeed. That was the idea." Dr. McCoy was grinning widely enough for Ginny to see he had fangs.

Ginny's mum grabbed her father's arm. "No, Arthur! What if it fell out of the sky doing those things?"

Dr. McCoy smiled at her, "I assure you, Molly, Cyclops wouldn't perform any of those maneuvers with your husband aboard. This would be a normal flight around the neighborhood, so to speak."

"Most Muggles never ride in a plane like that one," Harry added to Ginny's dad, who seemed dazed at the possibility. "It's sort of a once in a lifetime chance."

The plane had returned, slowing until it hovered in the air, then sat down. "It's up to you, Arthur," Dr. McCoy said.

Ginny's dad smiled abruptly. "How could I turn down such an opportunity?"

And with that, he followed Dr. McCoy's gesture towards the field.

Convincing Arthur Weasley to take a plane ride was somewhat easier than getting him strapped into a seat once he'd agreed. Scott wound up following him all around the interior while Arthur asked question after question. "I'll be happy to explain what everything is once we set her back down," Scott had repeated several times. They had limited fuel and he didn't want to waste it while Ginny's father asked after bulkheads and seatbelts and running lights.

It seemed that the entire Weasley clan except the mother had come along. Bobby was getting the twins into seats and showing them how the harnesses worked while Piotr had taken responsibility for the oldest son and his French fiancée. Kitty and Ro saw to Harry, Ginny and Ron while Scott himself had helped Remus Lupin. Hermione wasn't there, which saddened Scott. He'd hoped to run into his bushy-haired 'assistant' one last time, but when he asked about her, Ginny said, "Hermione went home to her parents for the holidays," shooting her brother such a venomous glance that Scott suspected Ron had done something to hurt the girl.

Finally getting Mr. Weasley buckled in as well, Scott took the pilot seat with Ro in her customary place beside him. Just for show, he pulled out his USAF lingo while they ran check, which made Ororo roll her eyes at him and mutter about flyboys and overcompensation.

Then the engines rumbled fully to life as he gripped the flight stick and adjusted the rudder pedals, taking the plane slowly into the air to roars and squeals of delight in the fuselage behind him. "Here we go, folks," he called back once the jet was high enough above the ground. Flipping switches, he felt the Pegasus engines begin their twist and the jet leapt forward like a greyhound.

"Ahhhhh!" Arthur Weasley shouted in delight.

The first time Hermione Granger heard the word "mutant" in America was when the cab driver let her and her friends out at the gated entrance to 1407 Greymalkin Lane, Westchester, New York. Although to be fair, it wasn't quite "mutant" in full. That would have been too polite.

"Don't know what you kids want with this place," the driver said, eyeing her, Harry and Ron suspiciously. "It's full of mutie freaks."

Glaring as she counted out American money to pay the man (and not including a tip after that remark), she said, "These freaks, as you call them, are our friends and I'll thank you not to insult them." She thrust the cash through the window and spun on her heel to join Harry and Ron at the gate call box behind the school sign, ignoring the cabbie's not-so-soft cursing behind her as he backed up to turn around. Pushing the red button, Hermione bent to say, "Hullo? Is anybody there?"

Static answered, and then a voice with an accent that was neither American nor British replied, "This is Ororo Munroe. You've reached Xavier's School for Gifted Youngster's, how may I help you?"

"This is Hermione Granger with Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. Of Hogwarts. Mr. Summers said that if I was ever in the neighborhood, I should stop by so he could show me around his school. Well, we were in the neighborhood."

Another pause greeted her, then the woman was back. "Oh, good heavens! By all means, come in. The gate's open for you. I'll have someone meet you at the front door. You can stay for dinner?"

With a grin, Hermione glanced at Harry. "Yes, we can stay for dinner. Actually, we were hoping we could stay for a bit longer than that. We're hunting for something here in the States . . . "

Endnotes: Despite the somewhat open ending, this is a one-shot not to be continued.

Thanks to Naomi and Bren both for the edits, as well as to Sarah and Hilly for looking over it and adding their suggestions. Depictions of the HP characters are based solely on the books and film presentations. I had to look up the blood purity of some, and with a few, it wasn't specified. I did read that Dean's father is a wizard, though he thinks himself Muggleborn. The lyrics quoted belong, of course, to U2's, "Sunday Bloody Sunday," which seems an appropriate song for the HP world about now.

Descriptions of Cyclops' background are based on the comics. I took a few details from Special: the Genesis of Cyclops, but obviously, it's not necessary to have read that. As per my usual stubborn custom, Dani 'Moonstar' is renamed Elk River, to avoid the ridiculousness of Marvel native surnames.

Bellatrix and Psylocke are for Shana and Bobby and the Weasley twins are for Sarah. The confrontation also attempts to explain why Bellatrix wasn't leading the charge against Dumbledore at the end of Book 6. As for the plane info, permit the plane junky her brief fangirly spaz. Old fans from X-Men know I love my planes.