The Son of Mischief and Moonlight

As Jean zipped up her bags, Harry leaned against the doorway, arms crossed and looking every bit like the trickster prince he was, with that easy, mischievous smile that could charm anyone into, well…anything.

"You all packed, Flame Princess?" he quipped, a spark of humor lighting his emerald green eyes.

Jean rolled her eyes. "Yeah, just hoping Xavier's doesn't end up looking like a bonfire."

"Hey, small steps. Don't burn down any world-saving institutions on your first day." He grinned, pushing off the door. "But come on—Chiron's got an answer for us about K'un Lun, and trust me, you don't want to miss it."

Jean shouldered her bag, and they walked to the Big House, where the rest of the gang had already gathered. It was almost like any regular family meeting…except this group consisted of half-bloods, demigods, and one very grumpy god of wine. The porch was packed with everyone from Clarisse, who looked ready to charge a mountain if she had to, to Travis and Connor, who were probably laying bets on Chiron's decision (most likely against the odds).

At the center, Chiron stood, calm and collected as always. It was hard not to feel a little nervous around him—after all, this was a centaur who had trained heroes since the Bronze Age. Next to him, Mr. D sipped his Diet Coke, looking as thrilled to be there as a kid in a broccoli-eating contest.

Chiron cleared his throat, eyes steady as he took in the group. "I've thought long and hard about this. K'un Lun is a sacred realm—an intense, grueling place that will push you beyond limits you've ever known."

The crowd fell silent, and even Travis and Connor stopped their whispering.

"However," Chiron continued, "I believe some of you are ready for this challenge, under the condition that you approach it with respect and the willingness to learn. This isn't Camp Half-Blood. It's a place of unrelenting training, discipline, and respect."

Harry shared a grin with Brunhilde. This was going to be epic.

With Chiron's nod of approval, the group exploded into cheers and high-fives, while Mr. D just grumbled, "Oh, joy. More heroes risking life and limb. What could go wrong?"

Before long, Jean stood beside Harry, who gave her an encouraging clap on the shoulder. "Alright, Flame Princess. Xavier's for now. Then—who knows? With the right training, you could turn that pyrokinesis into full-on flame wings."

"Yeah, and let's hope I don't burn myself in the process."

Harry shrugged, flashing that lopsided grin. "What's life without a little danger?"

As the group began to scatter, Harry could feel the pull of anticipation. He wasn't just any demigod or Asgardian here; he was Haris Lokison—Loki's trickster blood mixed with Artemis' disciplined huntress nature, a blend of chaos and order. And with the strength of gods like Zeus and Poseidon, the shadows of Hades, and the cunning of Athena, there was no way he'd back down from a challenge as legendary as K'un Lun.

With that spark in his eye, he turned to Brunhilde. "Ready to make history, Valkyrie?"

Brunhilde smirked. "Only if you can keep up, Prince Mischief."

"Oh, you just watch," he replied, letting his voice drop into a low, dangerous tone that hinted at the power he carried—a power that balanced between godhood and heroism, laughter and lightning, the stars and shadows.

—

As everyone piled into the Delphi Strawberries Delivery Van, one thing became abundantly clear: if you were getting in a vehicle with Brunhilde, the Valkyrie, driving, you might as well kiss conventional driving laws goodbye.

Harry slid into the front seat with a grin that hinted he knew exactly what was coming. He strapped his seatbelt on like it was a survival mechanism. For most people, that's just a joke. For Harry, well—Valkyrie Brunhilde behind the wheel.

Behind him, Jean shifted uncomfortably. "We're all clear that I'm not immortal, right? I mean, I may be friends with Harry 'God-Son-of-Loki-and-Artemis' Potter, but I still like living."

"Relax, Jean," Harry said, giving her a wink. "Worst case, you'll experience a bit of character growth through sheer terror."

Hermione was wedged in the back between Connor and Clarisse, both of whom had wide, "What did we just sign up for?" expressions. Hermione looked at them, sighing in solidarity. "Brunhilde's driving skills are… let's just say they're legendary, and I don't mean that in a 'mythological glory' kind of way."

Brunhilde, unbothered, turned around and flashed everyone her trademark mischievous grin. "Hold onto your laurels, folks! Next stop: Xavier's Institute!"

Without waiting for any kind of permission (or reasonable speed limit), Brunhilde floored the gas pedal. The van lurched forward like a charging demigod on a sugar rush, and everyone in the back got plastered to their seats, expressions ranging from sheer exhilaration to mild panic.

Harry braced himself, practically vibrating with anticipation. This was exactly the kind of chaos he thrived on. After all, being the son of Loki had given him an… appreciation for life's more "unpredictable" moments.

Jean, gripping her seat for dear life, glanced over at him. "Do you think she's ever heard of the brake pedal?"

"Maybe," Harry mused, "but I doubt she's on speaking terms with it."

Connor, who had wedged himself between two crates of questionable strawberry products, managed a strangled, "Is she actually trying to defy the laws of physics?"

"Trying?" Harry laughed. "She's doing it for fun."

As the van careened around a tight corner, Brunhilde let out a whoop of excitement, leaning into the turn like she was navigating a chariot race instead of an old, rusty delivery van. The scenery blurred past them in a smear of green and grey. It felt less like a road trip and more like a roller coaster with questionable safety standards.

Jean shot Harry a glare, though her attempt at intimidation was severely undercut by the way she was clutching the door handle. "Remind me why we didn't just portal?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Harry replied, winking again. "Besides, portals don't give you nearly as good a story."

By the time they were halfway to Xavier's, the group had settled into an uneasy rhythm of bracing for impact and occasionally yelping as Brunhilde tested how close she could get to trees without actually hitting them. Each twist and turn added a bit more hair-raising excitement, though Harry looked perfectly at ease, like he was on a casual Sunday drive.

"Do you think she even has a license?" Hermione murmured, clutching her seatbelt as the van veered dangerously close to the edge of the road.

"Oh, definitely," Harry replied, completely unfazed. "It's probably signed by Odin himself."

As they zoomed down the last stretch toward the Institute, Harry couldn't help but laugh. In a world where he was constantly balancing the expectations of gods, demi-gods, and his own wildly unpredictable heritage, moments like these were oddly grounding. Surrounded by friends, hurtling toward whatever new adventure awaited them—and doing it all with a ridiculous grin on his face.

Because if there was one thing Haris Lokison knew how to handle, it was a bit of chaos.

—

Professor Charles Xavier watched with patient amusement as his students gathered at the front steps of the mansion, vibrating with curiosity. Beside him, Warren Worthington III—looking effortlessly angelic, as always—smirked, his wings folded neatly behind him. Hank McCoy, with his signature blue fur, adjusted his glasses and muttered something about the exuberance of youth.

At the forefront of the student lineup stood 11-year-old Scott Summers, trying his best to act stoic and miserable—an impressive feat, given his energy. Behind his ruby quartz glasses, he looked like he was preparing for the end of the world, which, in Scott's mind, was pretty much every Tuesday. "Why do I have to be the one with laser eyes?" he muttered to no one in particular. "I mean, really."

Next to him, 10-year-old Remy LeBeau flicked a playing card between his fingers with practiced ease, his Cajun accent thick as molasses. "Aww, c'mon, Summers. It's a gift, non? We all got our talents." He grinned, his red-on-black eyes shining with a bit too much mischief for a kid his age. "Some of us just got the fun ones."

At the end of the line, 9-year-old Anna Marie—known to everyone as Rogue—crossed her arms, tossing her white-streaked hair over her shoulder. "Ya'll are makin' a big fuss over nothin'," she said in a classic Southern drawl. "This here's about meetin' demigods. Real ones! Not yer regular ol' mutants."

"Oh, the students are coming all right," Hank said with a grin, nodding toward the gate. Sure enough, a Delphi Strawberries Delivery Van shot into view, moving at speeds that seemed to defy the laws of probability (and maybe gravity). It swerved down the driveway, kicking up gravel and narrowly missing a very startled gardener.

Warren raised a brow. "Guess that's them."

With a last jolt and a screech of tires, the van came to a not-quite-graceful halt in front of the mansion. The doors burst open, and out piled the campers of Camp Half-Blood, all looking more than a little rattled but somehow exhilarated, like they'd just survived an amusement park ride. Leading the pack was Harry Potter (or Haris Lokison), sporting his usual easy grin, clearly having enjoyed every second of the chaotic ride.

And there, looking both thrilled and slightly disoriented, was Jean Grey.

Scott's entire demeanor changed the second he spotted her. He straightened up, ran a hand through his hair, and put on what could only be described as his attempt at a "cool guy" face—a delicate balance between tough and mysterious. The result was…a little less James Dean, a little more confused mall security guard.

"Uh, hi, Jean," he said, voice wavering just a bit. "I'm, uh, Scott. Scott Summers." He offered a stiff, awkward wave, as if she might otherwise miss him. "I, uh, I wear these glasses because…y'know, I can't control my…um…optic blasts."

Jean blinked, giving him a polite but bemused smile. "Nice to meet you, Scott."

Remy watched this spectacle with undisguised amusement, waggling his eyebrows and whispering to Rogue. "Kid's got it bad, don't he?"

Rogue snickered, whispering back, "Bless his heart."

Meanwhile, Professor Xavier approached Harry and the rest of the campers, smiling warmly. "Welcome to the Xavier Institute," he greeted, his tone both formal and welcoming. "I trust your journey was…eventful?"

Harry shrugged with a grin. "Oh, you know, just another life-or-death drive with Brunhilde. We're pretty much pros at that by now."

Brunhilde shot him a look of pride, giving Xavier a casual salute. "I make sure everyone gets to their destination alive—mostly alive."

Warren chuckled. "I'd say it was obvious by the condition of the driveway."

Scott, meanwhile, had sidled up next to Jean, his expression one of intense focus as he tried to look like he was just casually hanging out. "So, Jean, uh… if you ever need help…you know, with anything around here…I'm, uh, happy to, um, help." His hand somehow managed to accidentally smack himself in the face mid-sentence, which did nothing to help his case.

Jean smiled politely, though she clearly wasn't sure how to respond. "Thanks, Scott… I think I'll be okay, though."

Remy couldn't resist. "If ya ever need a real guide, chere," he offered with a wink, "ol' Remy'll be more'n happy to show ya 'round."

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Remy, ya barely know the mansion better than I do, and I got here a month after you."

Hank observed the scene with a bemused smile, leaning over to Warren. "I'd say our students are making an impression."

"Certainly a unique one," Warren replied, smirking.

As the campers of Camp Half-Blood began introducing themselves, chatting with the students, and getting a sense of the Institute's grounds, Harry noticed Xavier watching him thoughtfully. Professor X gave him a nod, as if to say, Welcome. You're in good hands here.

And for the first time since they arrived, the group from Camp Half-Blood settled in, knowing they were about to embark on a whole new adventure—one that was bound to be full of action, awkward introductions, and more than a few questionable driving choices.

—

Hank McCoy led Charles Beckendorf, Harry, Luke, Connor, and Travis down the sleek hallways of the Xavier Institute, the excited chatter of the young demigods filling the air. Hank couldn't help but be intrigued by this group; each of them seemed to carry an aura of adventure and potential, the kind that both intimidated and inspired.

As they reached his lab, Hank pushed open the door with a dramatic flourish. "Welcome to my personal playground," he said with a grin, guiding them into the lab. "This is where science and the extraordinary meet."

Young Beckendorf's eyes went wide with wonder as he took in the various blueprints, gadgets, and half-assembled devices scattered around the room. He was particularly drawn to a large set of plans sprawled across a drafting table, and Hank quickly noticed his interest. "Ah, Cerebro," Hank explained, following Beckendorf's gaze. "It's a powerful tool—when completed, it'll amplify Professor Xavier's abilities, allowing him to detect mutants across the globe."

Beckendorf studied the blueprints for a few moments, tilting his head with intense concentration. After a beat, he looked up at Hank, his eyes gleaming with an idea. "Have you ever considered making it portable? Maybe something that could be built into the Professor's wheelchair?"

Hank raised his brows, surprised by the suggestion. "A portable Cerebro? That… could be quite a feat. It would need to be both compact and capable of channeling immense psychic energy."

"Why not adapt the frame of a hover-chair?" Beckendorf suggested, pulling a small notebook from his backpack and flipping it open to a page filled with a detailed blueprint of a hovering wheelchair. "This could distribute the weight of the equipment while providing mobility and energy stabilization. Plus, I think it'd look pretty cool."

Hank's jaw dropped, genuinely taken aback. He studied the sketch carefully, marveling at the ingenuity behind it. "How on earth does a ten-year-old have such an advanced grasp of mechanics and science?"

Harry, who was busy watching Remy flip playing cards with flair, chuckled at Hank's surprise. "You're talking to the son of Hephaestus," he explained, as if that alone clarified everything. "When it comes to engineering, Beckendorf's got it covered."

"Is that so?" Hank mused, turning to Beckendorf with renewed respect. "Well, I suppose we could consider some of these modifications. And that hover design could come in very handy."

Beckendorf beamed with pride, nodding enthusiastically. "Glad to help, Dr. McCoy."

Meanwhile, Harry's attention returned to Remy, who had begun flicking cards with deft precision, charging them with a faint, crackling energy before letting them loose. Each card landed with a small pop on the table, sparking with kinetic energy.

"Looks like someone's paying attention," Remy smirked, catching Harry watching him intently.

"Yeah, that's…awesome," Harry murmured, an idea forming. "But instead of kinetic energy, what if I could charge them with spells? Could make for a pretty neat trick."

Remy looked at Harry with a glint in his eye, impressed. "Not bad, mon ami. You'd be like a card-throwin' wizard. Just don't blow yourself up."

Luke, Connor, and Travis exchanged grins, already imagining the pranks they could pull with magically charged cards. Connor nudged Harry. "Imagine slipping one of those into a game of poker. Bet we'd win every time."

Harry laughed, rolling his eyes. "Knowing you two, it wouldn't even take magic."

With the ideas and excitement buzzing through the lab, Hank realized that this eclectic group of young demigods might just be a perfect fit here at the Institute. And who knew—maybe, just maybe, the combined knowledge of mutants and demigods would lead to breakthroughs they'd never dreamed of.

—

Rogue led the group through the Institute's expansive hallways, giving her best tour-guide impression. "And over here," she said, gesturing grandly to a set of heavy double doors, "is where Professor Xavier teaches us all about, well, not blowin' stuff up when we're just tryin' to concentrate."

Jean, who'd been here before, nodded knowingly. Thalia snorted, muttering to Hermione, "Sounds a lot like Chiron's 'try not to accidentally smite anything' lesson at Camp."

Hermione, ever the curious one, was taking in every detail with rapt attention. "So, your classes here… are they mostly on, you know, mutant powers, or do you also study regular subjects?"

Annabeth leaned in, clearly as fascinated as Hermione. "Yeah, like, how do you combine training with…well, normal school?"

Rogue tilted her head thoughtfully. "Oh, we do a bit of everythin'. The professors make sure we don't miss out on all the boring stuff, like math and history. But mostly, we're here to learn how not to knock down buildings by sneezin' too hard."

Behind them, Clarisse rolled her eyes. "Sounds useful for a bunch of kids trying not to accidentally start a war."

Silena shot her a look. "Or, you know, just existing around people without turning them into toast."

As they made their way down another hallway, Rogue continued chatting animatedly, her Southern accent lilting through the Institute's otherwise quiet halls. "I'll show y'all the rec room next," she said. "It's where we go to relax... when we're not gettin' into trouble."

Just then, Jean leaned over to Thalia and murmured, "Is it just me, or do I feel like we're being watched?"

Thalia turned, catching a glimpse of a familiar figure lurking awkwardly down the hallway, pretending to study a very interesting spot on the wall. "You mean Mr. Sunglasses-indoors over there?" she replied dryly.

Scott Summers, barely out of sight, straightened up, trying to act nonchalant as he stumbled against a table and quickly shuffled further down the hallway. "What? I was just…you know…getting some fresh air in here."

Annabeth stifled a laugh. "Does he…follow you around often?" she asked Rogue.

Rogue smirked, rolling her eyes. "Honey, Scott's the official king of awkward, especially when there's a new girl around. Bless his heart."

Jean stifled a laugh, while Hermione shook her head. "Boys," she muttered with a grin.

The girls continued down the hall, leaving Scott awkwardly trailing at a respectful—if suspiciously consistent—distance. As they turned a corner, Rogue shot Jean a grin. "Welcome to the Institute, y'all.

—

As the girls entered the training area, it was like stepping into a chaotic blend of a magician's convention and a slapstick comedy routine. There, in the middle of the organized chaos, stood Harry Potter—no, wait, Harry Lokison—a name that didn't quite capture the whirlwind of mischief, charm, and raw power he embodied. Picture a ten-year-old who had the blood of Loki, the Trickster God, and Artemis, the Goddess of the Hunt, coursing through his veins. It was a dangerous combination, and one that would make any normal kid's head spin.

"Wow, what is happening here?" Thalia muttered, raising an eyebrow as she took in the scene.

In front of her, Remy LeBeau, the Cajun card shark extraordinaire, was showing off his latest tricks. "Non, non, mon ami!" he exclaimed, flicking a card with the finesse of a catapult. "You gotta let the cards dance!"

Harry, standing there with a focused look that betrayed the storm of chaos swirling inside him, effortlessly caught a card in mid-air and smirked. "Like this?" His grin was equal parts mischief and charm, making it impossible to look away. Honestly, with his ability to shapeshift and adapt, it felt like he was less a kid and more an embodiment of pure potential wrapped in a hoodie and jeans.

Meanwhile, in a corner of the room, Luke and his brothers, Travis and Connor, were doing their best to master the art of card tricks. Luke tried to flick a card with the flair he thought was cool but ended up scattering the whole deck like confetti at a New Year's party.

"Dude, it's not supposed to explode," Travis said, laughing as he dove to collect the cards. "Just try to keep it together."

Connor, still fumbling with a card in each hand, shot back, "Hey! It's called dramatic flair!"

As the girls watched, Rogue crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. "Look at these guys. They can barely shuffle without a personal trainer."

Scott Summers, lingering awkwardly behind the girls, was caught somewhere between admiration and panic as he watched Harry. "Um, I mean, he's really good at that," he mumbled, adjusting his Ruby Red Quartz glasses as if they could help him focus.

"Of course he is," Annabeth replied, rolling her eyes. "He's like some kind of demigod prodigy."

Harry, still dazzling with his card tricks, couldn't help but throw a cheeky wink in their direction. "What can I say? It's all in the charm."

"Oh, please," Thalia said, unimpressed. "It's not charm. It's sheer divine trickster luck."

Just then, Remy, ever the showman, spun dramatically to face the audience of demigods. "Ladies and gentlemen! Behold, the amazing Harry Lokison—king of the cards and master of the tricks!" He gestured with grandiose flair as if announcing the next big act in Las Vegas.

Harry, fully in his element now, performed a flourish that made a card levitate between his fingers. "Tada! But wait, there's more!" He added an extra flick, and the card shot out into the air, spiraling like a mini tornado.

The girls erupted into laughter. "Okay, that was actually impressive," Annabeth admitted, nodding appreciatively.

"Yeah, but can he charm them like Remy does?" Rogue challenged, a sly smile on her face.

Remy, quick as lightning, quipped back, "Non! That takes years of practice, cher!" He winked at Harry, who just shrugged with an exaggerated air of nonchalance.

In the corner, Charles Beckendorf and Hank McCoy were huddled over a table strewn with blueprints. "If we just increase the power output on Cerebro," Charles said, his brow furrowing in concentration, "we could enhance its range dramatically."

"Good idea, but let's not melt the whole place down in the process," Hank replied, his blue fur bristling with a mix of excitement and caution.

Meanwhile, Harry was busy preparing for his next trick. He looked over at the girls, a smirk playing at his lips. "Alright, who's ready to see a card that doesn't just disappear but—" He paused for dramatic effect, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "—turns into a squirrel?"

"Wait, what?" Thalia exclaimed, half-laughing, half-concerned.

Before Harry could respond, he snapped his fingers, and sure enough, a little squirrel appeared, darting around the training area, causing a mini pandemonium as the others scrambled to catch it.

"Okay, this is officially the best day ever," Luke declared, grinning as he tried to catch the squirrel.

As laughter and chaos ensued, Harry felt the warmth of camaraderie surrounding him. In that moment, it didn't matter that he was a kid caught between the worlds of gods and mortals. He was just Harry—mischievous, charming, and always ready for the next adventure. And with friends like these, life was never going to be boring.

—

Meanwhile, in the comfort of Charles Xavier's office—an impressive mix of modern design and cozy warmth—Brunhilde sat across from Professor Xavier and Warren Worthington III, better known as Angel. The air was thick with the scent of fresh coffee and the faint hum of the institute's technological wonders, creating an atmosphere that felt both serious and oddly casual.

Brunhilde, the Valkyrie warrior, was busy explaining the travel arrangements for Jean's upcoming week. "So, here's the deal," she began, tapping her fingers against the sleek desk, "I won't be available next week because I'm heading to a place called K'un Lun with Harry and the other demigods." Her tone was firm, but there was an unmistakable excitement bubbling beneath her composed exterior.

Xavier nodded, his fingers steepled under his chin. "I understand. I'm sure it will be a significant journey, especially with the responsibilities you carry." His eyes sparkled with the wisdom that came from a lifetime of mentoring heroes.

Warren leaned back in his chair, wings folded neatly behind him, a hint of amusement in his gaze. "So, how's our girl getting back and forth between here and Camp Half-Blood?"

Brunhilde's lips curled into a smile. "She'll have a Satyr named Gleeson Hedge taking care of her transportation. They call him Coach Hedge at Camp, which is a bit ironic since he's not exactly your average coach."

Xavier chuckled softly, shaking his head. "The world is always full of surprises, isn't it? I suppose we shouldn't be surprised by the existence of Satyrs, but it's still fascinating to hear about it."

Warren chimed in, "And I take it Jean knows him well? What's he like?"

"Pretty much exactly what you'd expect from someone who goes by Coach Hedge," Brunhilde replied, her eyes glinting with amusement. "He's got this rough-around-the-edges charm and a knack for turning any situation into a wild adventure. Jean met him during her time at Camp Half-Blood, and they hit it off."

Xavier leaned forward, his expression serious. "It's important that Jean feels comfortable with her transportation, especially with everything that's been happening. You think Coach Hedge will be able to handle it?"

Brunhilde shrugged, her confidence unwavering. "He's more than capable. Satyrs have a way of adapting to chaos. If anyone can get her to and from the camp without a hitch, it's him."

"Plus," Warren added with a grin, "there's bound to be some sort of adventure along the way, right? It's never just a simple drive with those guys."

"Exactly!" Brunhilde laughed, her earlier seriousness melting away. "I wouldn't be surprised if they end up having a run-in with trouble. Just another day in the life of mutants and demigods, right?"

Xavier smiled knowingly. "Well, let's make sure Jean has everything she needs for the transition. I'll arrange for her to have the resources at her disposal while she's here."

Brunhilde nodded appreciatively. "Thanks, Charles. I know she'll appreciate it, especially with the added responsibility of splitting her time between here and camp."

With plans set and the mood lightened, they continued discussing the logistics, brainstorming ways to ensure Jean's smooth travel experience while balancing the unique challenges of her dual life as a mutant and the Avatar of a cosmic entity. In that moment, they all understood the complexities of their world—and the importance of standing together as they faced whatever came next.

—

As Jean settled into her new room at the Institute—an inviting space filled with light and decorated with a mix of her and Rogue's personalities—she couldn't shake the excitement and nerves swirling inside her. This was a new chapter, and sharing a room with Rogue, who had quickly become one of her closest friends, felt like the perfect start.

Meanwhile, Harry, ever the embodiment of mischief and charm, lounged casually against the doorframe, flipping a card between his fingers like a magician preparing for his big moment. His keen eyes sparkled with mischief as he watched Jean arrange her belongings, a sly grin creeping onto his face.

"Hey, Jean!" he called, interrupting her focused unpacking. "I've got something for you!"

She turned, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "For me? What is it?"

With a dramatic flourish that would make any performer proud, Harry pulled a small, ornate mirror from his pocket. It shimmered with an otherworldly glow, reflecting the light in such a way that it almost seemed to pulse with magic. "Ta-da!" he exclaimed, holding it out like a prize at a carnival.

Jean blinked, her confusion evident. "A mirror? Is this some kind of prank?"

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Not at all! This isn't just any mirror. This is a communication mirror. My dad made it, with a little help from his friends, Sirius and Remus. It's a way for us to keep in touch when I'm in K'un Lun."

She tilted her head, the skepticism still lingering in her expression. "How does it work?"

Harry stepped closer, his enthusiasm infectious. "All you have to do is speak my name. 'Harry'—that's me!" He grinned, waggling his eyebrows for effect. "When you say it, my mirror will light up, and we'll be able to see and talk to each other. It's like having a video chat, but way cooler!"

Jean's eyes widened in understanding as he demonstrated, speaking his own name into the mirror. It glowed softly, reflecting his image, even though she could see he was standing right in front of her. "Wow, that's really neat!" she exclaimed, her initial confusion giving way to genuine excitement. "So I can just talk to you whenever I want?"

"Exactly!" Harry nodded, his confidence shining through. "You can tell me about your day, ask for advice, or just vent about how Rogue stole the last of the snacks." He winked playfully, knowing full well that Rogue had a habit of raiding the stash.

"That sounds amazing!" Jean said, taking the mirror from him carefully. "But what about when you're off being all heroic and mysterious in K'un Lun?"

Harry shrugged, his expression thoughtful. "That's the beauty of it! No matter where I am, I'll always be just a call away. Besides, you never know when you might need to summon the son of a trickster god." He flashed a cheeky grin, clearly relishing his heritage.

Jean laughed, the tension of the day melting away. "Thanks, Harry. This is really thoughtful of you. I'll make sure to use it a lot."

"You better!" he replied, his tone playful but sincere. "I want to know how you're doing out here, fighting the good fight and all that. Plus, I can offer some advice on card tricks. You might need it, sharing a room with Rogue."

Jean rolled her eyes, chuckling as she glanced back at the mirror. "I'm sure I'll have plenty of stories to share. Just make sure you don't get yourself into too much trouble over there!"

"Me? Trouble? Never!" Harry feigned innocence, but the playful glint in his eyes gave him away. "Just remember, if you ever need backup—" he gestured to the mirror dramatically, "—you know where to find me."

With their laughter echoing in the room, Jean felt a warmth settle in her chest. She had found friends, allies, and perhaps a bit of family in this place. And with Harry's gift in her hands, she knew that no matter where their adventures took them, they would always stay connected.

---

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