Several peaceful days passed on Bannerman Island.
Harry had come to appreciate just how precious an ordinary day could be.
Every morning, before the sun had fully risen above the Hudson River, the island awakened.
The smell of fresh bread drifted from the communal kitchens long before breakfast was served. Smoke curled lazily from the chimneys of the restored buildings, while the sound of laughter echoed through the castle courtyard as children chased one another before lessons began.
The restored halls of Bannerman Castle had slowly transformed into makeshift classrooms.
The walls still bore the scars of time, and many of the rooms remained under renovation, yet every morning they filled with eager voices. Mathematics, reading, history, science—even simple lessons filled the old stone corridors.
Harry often paused outside the classrooms simply to watch.
Seeing children complain about homework instead of fearing imprisonment somehow felt like a remarkable achievement.
Outside the castle, life continued with equal purpose.
As soon as breakfast ended, boats crossed the river carrying many of the adults toward nearby towns. Some worked as mechanics. Others found employment in construction, warehouses, small factories, or local businesses willing to hire them without asking too many questions.
They returned every evening exhausted.
But they returned smiling.
Those who remained on the island worked just as tirelessly.
The soap workshop that Harry had financed had finally begun producing its first successful batches. The small building smelled strongly of herbs and scented oils, and although the workers still argued constantly over recipes and fragrances, their products were already finding buyers in nearby markets.
Elsewhere, another group prepared to open a woodworking business.
The forests outside Bannerman Island provided more than enough timber, and several former carpenters had already begun crafting sturdy furniture, cabinets, and children's toys. Every completed chair or table seemed to restore a little more confidence to those who built them.
Nobody wanted handouts anymore.
They wanted professions.
Harry found himself smiling more often than he realized.
As he walked through the settlement that afternoon, familiar faces greeted him from every direction.
"Morning, Harry!"
"Need any help with the eastern roof later?"
"The children wanted to know if you'll tell another story tonight!"
He answered each greeting with an easy smile.
His footsteps eventually carried him toward one of the quieter sections of the island, where Rogue was waiting beneath a cluster of old oak trees.
She looked considerably more relaxed than when they had first met.
There was still caution in her movements—years of isolation could not disappear overnight—but the haunted expression that had once permanently shadowed her face had begun to fade.
Harry sat opposite her on a fallen tree trunk.
"Ready?"
She nodded.
"As Ah'll ever be."
Their daily training sessions had become routine.
For nearly an hour, Harry guided her through exercises that focused on control instead of suppression.
"Don't fight it," he reminded gently.
"Feel where your power begins."
Rogue closed her eyes.
"You're not trying to overpower it anymore."
"I'm trying to understand it."
She concentrated for several more minutes before opening her eyes.
"Ah think... Ah'm finally getting somewhere."
"You are."
The progress was undeniable.
Months earlier, even accidental brushes with another person had terrified her.
Now...
She could briefly touch Harry's hand before instinctively pulling away.
It wasn't perfect.
But it was progress.
When the session finally ended, Rogue smiled tiredly.
"Thanks."
"You tell me that every day."
"'Cause Ah mean it every day."
Harry chuckled.
Before he could reply, the sound of his phone echoed faintly through the castle.
He blinked.
The phone rarely rang.
Most of the people he knew were already living on Bannerman Island. The magical world had no way of contacting him directly, and very few ordinary people even knew this number existed.
Rogue tilted her head.
"Expecting someone?"
"No."
He excused himself and made his way back through the castle's stone corridors.
The ringing continued steadily.
By the time he reached the room where he put the phone, it had rung nearly a dozen times.
"Hello?"
Then a familiar voice answered.
"Harry."
A grin immediately spread across Harry's face.
"Gambit."
The Cajun laughed softly.
"Good to hear your voice, mon ami."
Harry leaned comfortably against the desk.
"How's the search going?"
There was a pause.
Then Gambit spoke with unmistakable excitement.
"Harry..."
"I found it."
Harry's smile faded into curiosity.
"You sound excited."
Remy's laugh grew louder.
"Excited ain't even close."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"That good?"
"You better sit down."
Harry glanced toward the nearby chair before doing exactly that.
"All right."
"I'm sitting."
"What did you find?"
When Gambit finally answered, his voice carried the excitement of a man who had discovered buried treasure.
"I found our future."
Harry blinked.
"Our future?"
"That's right."
"The place we've been searching for."
Harry frowned thoughtfully.
"That sounds expensive."
"It is."
"How expensive?"
Gambit answered as casually as though discussing groceries.
"About thirty million dollars."
Harry nearly dropped the phone.
"...Thirty million?"
"Before you start complainin'," Gambit interrupted quickly, "hear me out."
Harry leaned back in his chair.
"I'm listening."
"This ain't just a ranch."
"It ain't just farmland."
"It's fifteen thousand acres."
Harry stared blankly at the wall.
"...How many acres?"
"You heard me."
"Fifteen."
"Thousand."
"Acres."
Harry tried to picture the number.
He couldn't.
Seeing nothing but Harry's prolonged silence, Gambit laughed.
"I had the same reaction."
"Describe it."
There was no hesitation.
"Fertile fields."
"Rich black soil."
"Enough farmland to feed thousands."
Harry's attention sharpened.
"There are forests too."
"Huge ones."
"Good timber."
"Plenty of wildlife."
"A freshwater stream cuts straight through the property."
"Several natural ponds."
"Hills."
"Grazing land."
Harry slowly stood and walked toward the window overlooking Bannerman Island.
Children were still running through the courtyard below.
"It sounds almost perfect."
"It gets better."
"The nearest town's far enough away that nobody'll bother us."
Harry remained quiet.
Gambit continued.
"I spent two full days walking the property."
"I wanted to make sure."
"I climbed every hill."
"I followed the streams."
"I checked the forests."
"And Harry..."
"What?"
"I honestly don't think we'll ever find another place like it."
Harry rested one hand against the window frame.
"Where is it?"
"South Dakota."
Harry let out a slow breath.
"That's almost on the other side of the country."
"I know."
"But sometimes the best places are the ones nobody's lookin' at."
Harry couldn't argue with that.
Bannerman had served them well.
But even now he could already see its limitations.
The island was safe.
But it could never truly become a homeland.
There simply wasn't enough room.
Only a few months ago, this place had been abandoned.
A crumbling ruin.
Now...
It was alive.
The voice on the telephone interrupted his thoughts once more.
"Harry?"
"I'm still here."
"So..."
"What do you think?"
Harry was quiet for a long moment before answering.
"I think..."
He looked across the island again.
"...you're asking me to spend almost everything I have."
Gambit laughed.
"I figured you'd notice that."
Harry shook his head with amusement.
"Thirty million dollars..."
"I don't think I've ever spent that much money on anything."
"You'll spend more before we're done."
Harry groaned dramatically.
The laughter between them eased the seriousness of the conversation, but only for a moment.
Then Gambit's tone became more measured.
"Harry."
"What?"
"You should buy it in yourself."
Harry frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"In your name."
Harry answered immediately.
"I don't care who owns it."
"The people should own it."
"They're the ones who'll live there."
On the other end of the line, Gambit sighed.
"I knew you'd say exactly that."
Harry folded his free arm across his chest.
"Then why ask?"
"Because you don't see what everybody else sees."
Harry blinked.
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you've been spendin' money like water ever since you came to America."
Harry opened his mouth to object, but Gambit continued before he had the chance.
"You rebuilt the castle."
"You bought boats."
"You bought machinery."
"You paid builders."
"You bought food."
Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"They needed help."
"I know."
"You'd do it again."
"I would."
"That's exactly my point."
Gambit's voice softened.
"You're trying to build a future where nobody owes anybody anything."
"That's a beautiful dream."
"But people don't work that way."
Harry slowly lowered himself back into the chair.
"What are you getting at?"
"People have pride."
Harry already knew where this conversation was heading.
"You've noticed it yourself."
Harry nodded unconsciously.
"I have."
Several memories surfaced immediately.
The mechanic who had secretly repaired the car without accepting payment.
The woman who insisted on washing everyone's clothes because she felt guilty eating food Harry had purchased.
The carpenter who left a small envelope containing twenty dollars outside Harry's bedroom door with a note that simply read:
"For the windows."
Harry had quietly returned the money.
The next morning, the same envelope appeared again.
Gambit continued.
"They don't want charity."
"They want dignity."
"They want to earn what they have."
Harry slowly exhaled.
"I know."
"They're proud people."
"So let them be."
Then Gambit spoke again.
"The land belongs to you."
"People who farm it..."
"They lease the fields."
"People who build businesses..."
"They lease the land."
"People who open workshops..."
"They pay a small percentage."
Harry frowned.
"I don't need more money."
"But it ain't about money."
"It's about ownership."
Harry listened quietly.
"If they pay rent..."
"They ain't living on your charity."
"They're tenants."
"They're business owners."
"They're farmers."
Gambit's voice became even gentler.
"And Harry..."
"When people build something with their own hands..."
"They protect it."
Harry looked through the window again.
A pair of boys were helping one of the older men repair a fence around the vegetable gardens.
Neither had been asked.
Neither expected payment.
They simply wanted to help.
Perhaps...
Gambit was right.
Everyone else needed self-respect.
After nearly a full minute of silence, Harry finally smiled.
"All right."
He heard Gambit laugh with unmistakable relief.
"I knew you'd understand."
"So..."
Harry asked.
"When do you need me?"
"As soon as possible."
"The owner's waiting."
"So are the lawyers."
"The surveyors already finished most of the paperwork."
"I've delayed signing anything until you got here."
Harry nodded slowly.
"I'll leave tomorrow morning."
"Perfect."
"I'll meet you there."
The line fell silent for a moment.
Then Gambit added quietly,
"Harry."
"Yeah?"
"You really are gonna love this place."
"I hope you're right."
"Oh..."
Remy sounded completely certain.
"I know Ah'm right."
The call ended with the familiar click of the receiver.
Harry gently returned the telephone to its cradle and remained seated for another minute.
Fifteen thousand acres.
Enough room for farms.
Schools.
Workshops.
Homes.
Perhaps one day...
Entire towns.
A soft knock came from the doorway.
Harry looked up and Jean Grey stood there with her arms folded, watching him with quiet curiosity.
"You've been in here for almost half an hour."
Harry smiled faintly.
"Gambit called."
Her expression brightened immediately.
"He found something?"
Harry nodded.
"A new home."
Jean stepped into the room.
"For everyone?"
"I think so."
He gestured toward the chair opposite him.
She sat.
"Tell me."
Harry leaned back.
"South Dakota."
Jean nodded thoughtfully.
"I've heard it's beautiful."
"Apparently it is."
"How big?"
Harry hesitated.
Jean noticed.
"Harry..."
He gave an awkward smile.
"Fifteen thousand acres."
Jean stared.
"...You're joking."
"I wish I were."
For several seconds she simply blinked.
Finally she laughed.
"That's..."
She searched for the right word.
"...enormous."
"So I've been told."
"And you can actually buy it?"
Harry nodded.
Jean whistled softly.
"That explains why you look like someone just asked you to buy a country."
Harry laughed.
"That's exactly how it feels."
She walked over to the window beside him.
Together they looked out across Bannerman Island.
The sun painted the old fortress in warm shades of gold.
Smoke drifted lazily from chimneys.
Children played in the open courtyard.
Several men were unloading timber from a small boat that had just reached the dock.
Jean smiled softly.
"You've been thinking about this for a long time."
Harry nodded.
"Bannerman is safe."
"But..."
"It can't grow."
He pointed toward the shoreline.
"We're already running out of space."
"The children won't stay children forever."
"They'll need homes."
Jean followed his gaze.
"And fields."
"And forests."
"And somewhere they don't have to feel crowded."
Harry nodded quietly.
"It could finally become a real hometown."
Jean looked at him.
"You've already decided."
Harry frowned.
"Have I?"
She smiled knowingly.
"I've watched you long enough."
"When have you ever walked away from helping people because it was inconvenient?"
Harry thought about it.
Then laughed.
"...Fair point."
Jean grinned.
"I thought so."
Outside, the laughter of children echoed across the courtyard once again.
Harry listened quietly.
Perhaps Gambit had been right from the beginning.
Bannerman Island had never been meant to be the destination.
Only the first step.
Somewhere beyond the plains of South Dakota...
A future was waiting.