"Honestly, I was thinking the same thing."
"Back then, the Professor would've never agreed to train kids for combat this early. But now? He'd want them to protect themselves."
Wolverine agreed without hesitation.
In the old days, Xavier's philosophy was clear: students came to school to master their powers and gain an education. Their futures—what careers they pursued, what lives they led—were theirs to choose.
Only those who stayed as adults, who willingly joined the X-Men, received combat training.
But times had changed. Survival demanded adaptation. Even children needed to hone their abilities, to fight if necessary.
If every kid could match X-23's skill, Arklay Genetics wouldn't stand a chance against them.
"Good. Then let's get some rest."
After scouting both basement levels, George and Wolverine retreated to their rooms.
Two days of nonstop travel had left them exhausted. Now, finally, they could sleep in peace.
Four Days Later
George's routine held steady: mornings gathering intel in the Bronx, afternoons buried in magical research, evenings channeling focus to his Harry Potter-world counterpart.
While his Marvel-world self orchestrated the prison break, the分身 hadn't idled either. Between occasional visits from Tonks and her colleagues (mostly there for free meals), he'd drilled spells and theory relentlessly.
But today was different.
September 1st. Hogwarts departure day.
"Come on, Peppa!"
Securing the massive owl's cage, George locked the shop door and wheeled his overloaded trolley toward Diagon Alley's exit.
"Peppa"—named for her insatiable appetite—was a luxury only possible thanks to the old wizard's inheritance. Her size deterred would-be thieves during his clearance sale; few dark wizards risked her talons when haggling over discounted potions.
Pushing the towering luggage cart past grimy storefronts, he emerged into sunlight, turned onto Charing Cross Road, and stopped before a nondescript brick wall.
Three precise taps with his wand. The bricks shivered, rearranging into a vaulted archway—the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.
He nodded to Tom, the barkeep, but didn't linger. The pub's greasy meals and dingy charm had lost their novelty after a few visits. Outside, on the mundane London street, he waited.
Originally, he'd planned to take the Underground to King's Cross. But Tonks—after one too many dinners at his place—had insisted on driving him.
Right on schedule (ten minutes late, by his standards), a vintage emerald-green sedan pulled up.
"Blimey, you're early!" Tonks tumbled out of the passenger seat, her hair today a violent shade of violet.
"I like buffers. Avoids last-minute chaos," George replied.
"Wish I could say the same," she laughed, effortlessly heaving his trunk into the tiny boot.
"Undetectable Extension Charm?" George eyed the seemingly impossible feat.
The spell—illegal for private use but ubiquitous among wizards—could expand spaces to ludicrous degrees. Newt Scamander's suitcase being the most famous example.
"Sharp eye! Ministry-approved modification, though. Official Auror vehicle perk." Tonks winked, slamming the boot shut. As a probationary Auror, she'd earned access to enchanted transports.
"Impressive." George played along, amused.
Outwardly, this was a 19-year-old helping an 11-year-old. In reality? A thirty-something mind humoring a teenager.
"Morning, George." The driver—a wizard in lurid green velvet—waved. "Merlin's beard, who'll feed us now you're off to school?"
"Morning, Aldo. Christmas break's only a few months away."
The lovesick Auror trainee (hopelessly pining after Tonks, who saw him as a brother) rubbed his head where she'd cuffed him and started the car.
"Ignore him," Tonks said as they pulled into traffic. "Hogwarts is brilliant. You'll love it."
The enchanted engine purred toward King's Cross.
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