The halls of the mansion were quiet, save for the faint humming of old pipes and the soft crackle of a fire down the corridor. You had only arrived hours ago - another lost soul plucked from the world by rumors of a school that took in people like you.

You expected judgment. Silence. Maybe fear.

But instead, you got him.

Charles Xavier stood a few feet away, brows slightly raised, lips parted - as if trying to put together a thought that had just slipped past him.

"Fascinating," he finally said, stepping closer, his blue eyes locking onto yours. "I've never seen anything quite like your mind."

You shifted, unsure if he meant it as praise or warning.

"Is that... a good thing?"

He chuckled, low and genuine.

"It's a marvelous thing."

Then, gently - like he was speaking to a rare, living star:

"Your thoughts are layered... intricate. Like music and fire all at once. It's not just your powers, it's how you think. You don't just move energy - you shape it. Feel it."

He paused, visibly awed.

"Do you know what that means?"

You shook your head.

"It means you're not just powerful," he said, voice soft. "You're brilliant.

And you don't even realize it yet."