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A Freak like Me	By : knj4k4 Category: Harry Potter Crossovers > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 38259 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter nor Xmen the fandom, Any of the Harry Potter characters or any of the X-men, and I am making no profit from this story.

Chapter List
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AN: I'm in the process of uploading beta'd version. Thanks to Blaze Lupin for looking over it. I may or may not be getting more help as needed and so there may be more edits.
Summery: Harry is sold to a man who experiments on Mutants when he's seven. this is a Hp/xmen crossover. I need a beta, hopeful one who can help me with Remy's accent and the characters not in the movies. the info on the xmen will me a hodgepodge of the movies info from the internet the comics I have and other fanfics. Hogwarts will come along eventually but not soon, Harry is already old enough to graduate. i don't really like most of the characters from canon so...we'll see how it goes.
warnings: slash, gay relationships, non-explicit rape, brainwashing.
"french"
'mental conversations'
Prologue
I read a story once, about a girl who fell into a mirror and ended up in a world full of strange creatures and had a lovely fictional adventure. I remember that story in particular because it was the only fictional story The Doctor allowed me to read. He said it was to show me that freaks like me only cause harm to normal people. That Alice would have been better off not meeting the freaks and having that “horrible frightening experience.” He explained to me that, that perfectly normal and human girl had been captured and tortured by freaks like me, and that this was why we had to be controlled and caged.
Alice’s story started in her house. She had a family. She was clothed and fed and had friends. My story starts differently.
My story starts in a cupboard. I don’t remember my parents. I have seen pictures of them, but I have no memories of them. My first memories were of being taught to clean, taught to cook for my normal human family. My normal human Aunt and Uncle and cousin Dudley.
I remember the hunger and pain I felt when they threw me in my cupboard for days without food or bathroom breaks. I remember the tears that fell from my eyes when I realized that there was no one who would save a freak like me. I never learned my name. My Aunt and Uncle only called me boy or freak and I don’t remember their last name to find out now.
I remember the neighbours, who would watch me with barely hidden disgust. When I asked my Aunt why they hated me, she told me it was because I was a freak, that no one could love a freak. She was wrong, but I didn’t learn that for close to a decade.
They sold me, when I was seven, to a man in a fitted pinstripe suit. He spoke with an accent I didn’t recognize, which wasn’t that surprising as I’d never been further from my Aunts house then the corner market down the lane.
He made me turn in circles, do jumping jacks, checked my teeth and told me to take off my shirt. I was too young to understand then, but he told me later; he had been putting on a show. Trying to appear to not want me. He did…want me that is. He wanted me because I was a freak. I didn’t understand why he would want a freak, we were useless, and no one would want a freak. He never explained the conundrum.
I don’t remember the trip; he stuck me with a needle as soon as he got me in the car. He took me to his lab and told me he was The Doctor. I hated and loved that man. He performed all sorts of tests on me. Then he told me to walk two steps behind him, as was proper behavior for a freak and follow him to his office.
He told me that if I had been normal I would have been considered a prodigy. Instead, because I was only a freak, I was simply considered more useful then others. I learned fast that being useful was important. He told me that in order to keep my usefulness I would need to learn, so he taught me.
I learned biology, genetics, zoology, physiology, math, calculus, physics, English, French, German, Japanese, chemistry, and any other advanced subject he thought I should know. I read sections of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, and the Webster dictionary in its entirety. Unfortunately, I’d never heard most of those words used in a sentence and so although I knew the meaning of most words, my vocabulary was only as large as the Doctors. I absorbed the knowledge like a sponge and at 10 I began helping him with his experiments.
During all this time I had only ever seen The Doctor and the one guard who escorted me. So you can understand that I was surprised to see another being on the table when I got to The Doctor’s lab.
It wasn’t for another few months that I learned the being was a freak, a useless freak, and became aware of how my knowledge was being used.
Now I knew I was smart for a freak, but it wasn’t until that day I realized I was smart enough to fool The Doctor. I realized that The Doctor was using my ideas and my breakthroughs to hurt this freak; so,I stopped having breakthroughs. I knew it was dangerous, but I also knew that my ideas would one day be used on me.
When I was 12; I called The Doctor father. It was the first time he sent me to the guards to use, and the last time I saw him.
They hurt me in ways I had never known possible. They raped me and laughed at my pain, laughed as they broke my bones and tore off my flesh. They told me that they had been waiting for me. They had been waiting for me to mess up so The Doctor would let them play.
That night in my cage, something changed. My body was broken, I could not breath through the broken ribs. Something inside me awoke. I could suddenly feel those around me. Feel how they moved, how their muscles shifted, how their blood flowed, how their nerves worked, but most importantly I could feel it in me; and I could change it.
That night it was pure instinct. I wanted my ribs fixed and suddenly I knew exactly how they were broken. I had four broken ribs and two cracked ones. I wanted them to mend, and my body reacted. The marrow flowed together and rebuilt. The ribs snapped in place and sealed as if they were never broken. I knew every exact detailed motion that the cells took and my ribs were healed.
Elated, I focused on my other injuries; the broken arm, the shattered leg, the internal bleeding in my stomach and spleen, the blood in my kidneys from where they had been torn, the sprained and torn musculature, the broken bones and torn flesh on my face and body. The last thing I fixed was my torn and destroyed sphincter, and the bloody tears on my penis. I was completely healed.
One of the guards had come to see what the glowing light had been and reported it to their superior. I suspect that somehow news of it got thought the chain of command and I was assigned another Doctor.
This Doctor didn’t want me to learn. He wanted to test on me. He said there had been another freak that could do what I do, and He had gotten away. The New Doctor called that freak the Wolverine and said he was a masterpiece. He compared every other freak and project to the Wolverine and I began to idolize this freak who escaped. He said I was too weak and to stupid to fight my way out. I was. The Wolverine became my God, I prayed to him, begging that he come back and save me. That freak was my only hope, and sometimes my only hold on sanity. He became who I called out to when the guards hurt me past my endurance. The guards and the Doctor all enjoyed ridiculing me. But everyone has to have an idol.
When I turned 14 another change occurred.
They had received so many freaks that there weren’t enough cages, they started doubling up. Of course they didn’t double up food, but…
My cage mate was a male freak who insisted I call him Mike. He was a freak because he could grow larger. In his natural form he was larger then me and said he had been taken from his parents house. He told me all about the outside world, about how he had gone to school and rode a bike and eaten at restaurants. He created a fictional world for me. I only barely remembered life outside of The Lab. He told me stories of his life.
He told me about his mother, about his father, and explained why The First Doctor had been so mad when I called him Father.
I loved him. We comforted each other in our cage. Sometimes by holding each other and telling stories and sometimes he would show me pleasure. He twisted what the guards did to us until it was beautiful.
“I’m going to break out.” He told me. I tried to dissuade him, begged him not to try; told him it was hopeless. There was no escape. He didn’t listen.
The next time the guards came for one of us, Mike attacked them as soon as they opened the door. I could hear fighting and gunshots for at least five minutes before they threw his mangled body back into our cell.
“Heal him” the guards mocked me. He was bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds and tears streamed down my face. I cursed myself. I’d known better then to get attached to anyone. Hope and love had no place in the cages.
Mike grabbed my hand and pulled it to his lips. He kissed it gently and I could feel his body weakening. “No” I whispered. It wasn’t fair. I could heal myself why couldn’t I heal him. I could feel the blood cells die as they lay on the floor. I could feel Mike dying and I screamed.
Something unlocked as I screamed, and how I felt Mike was different. I focused on the gunshot wounds and used his muscles to push out the bullets. Then I forced life back into the cells around the holes and willed them to close, and the damage the bullet had caused as it tore a path in his body to mend. Next I focused on giving his blood cells energy to replicate. Mike opened his eyes wide and I could feel strength returning to him. I smiled at him, a watery smile, and focused on healing his remaining wounds.
He sat up and hugged me as soon as I was done and we laughed in joy.
I didn’t laugh or even smile for some time after that. Once The Doctor learned what I could do now, he used Mike to test me. They would hurt him in different ways, using poison, fire, different metals. They electrocuted him and amputated limbs. I healed it all. Every time. But I got no more joy from it. No more laughter or hugs. Mike began to hate me. He begged me to let him die, cursed me and screamed at me, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t loose Mike, my love.
They tortured us and tested us until I failed. They cut off his head. I could keep his head alive, but I didn’t. Finally, I let him die.
And they had finally killed my spirit. I never begged again, nor did I ever become attached to any of the others they threw in my cage for me to heal.
The Doctor determined what my weakness was. I had to be conscious and cognizant to heal. I have to will my body and the bodies around me to act. If they take away my will, with drugs or with torture, then I won’t will it, and won’t heal.
You may be wondering if I ever got out, like Alice did, eventually returning home. I will tell you that yes, I did. But I don’t have a cosy home to return to, and it wasn’t a close call like Alice, it was a massacre.
Somehow some other, free, freaks found out about the lab, and attacked. The Doctor ordered the guards to “take care of the evidence” and left. The guards turned their guns on us. They killed everyone and there was nothing I could do. I cried for the first time in years, but they were angry tears.
When a guard turned his weapon on my cage, I wanted him to stop moving, and his muscles complied. I blinked, shocked, and then smiled maliciously. I willed him to turn to his fellow guards and pull the trigger on them. He killed at least 10 before one of his comrades caught him in the head. I had been able to force his body to ignore the shots to his legs, arms and chest, but without the brain, I didn’t have enough focus to make the muscles continue moving.
I willed another guard to take up my cause. Then a thought occurred to me and I attempted to divide my focus between two guards. Us freaks had been their entertainment for years, now they were going to dance to my will. Eventually I had five guards under my control, and all the others were dead.
I willed four of them to walk around the cages and sifted my focus between their eyes. I learned that I could see what they saw, hear what they heard, and feel what they felt, but I couldn’t access their thoughts. There were no other freaks alive.
The fifth guard, I had open my cage. They escorted me out and I used their mouths to answer any questions posed to us. Fortunately, my freak ability only glows when I'm healing. No one noticed anything was wrong. They escorted me out of the compound and once out I shimmied up a tree and returned them to the base. I made them kill everyone I could find and when no more normals came running out of the lab, I turned their guns on themselves.
Then I laughed, until I was horse and started walking through the forest. I did feel bad about a few of the normals I'd killed but, most of them had been guards who'd used me and killed Mike. I had no pity for them. I walked for miles, until I was too weak to heal my bleeding feet.
Just before I passed out, I felt a body signature coming my direction. I hoped it wasn’t a guard or a Doctor
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A Freak like Me