The Edge of Fury
Harry’s world was crumbling around him, and the chaos of it all was deafening. His heart pounded as he stared at Sirius, crumpled on the ground in front of him, blood pooling under his godfather’s shoulder. The world blurred, smoke and shouting men in suits were nothing but a haze as Harry tried to move toward Sirius, but hands grabbed at him from all sides, yanking him back.
“Get off me!” Harry bellowed, adrenaline surging through his veins. With a furious wave of his wand, he unleashed a forceful blast of magic that sent several armed men sprawling backward. A few hit the ground hard, their weapons skittering across the rubble.
“Don’t touch me!” he shouted again, spinning to aim his wand at the next group rushing toward him. He wasn’t going to let them stop him. Not now. Sirius needed him, he had to get to him.
“Enough!”
The voice cut through the noise like a whip, sharp and commanding. It froze Harry in place, not because it was intimidating, but because it carried an authority he couldn’t ignore.
Through the haze, a man stepped forward, calm and confident despite the chaos. He wore a long black trench coat, and the eyepatch over one eye made him look as though he’d seen more battles than Harry could imagine. The man locked his single eye on Harry, steady and unyielding.
“Harry Potter,” the man said evenly, his voice both a statement and a warning. “Stand down. Now.”
Harry’s wand trembled in his hand, his instincts screaming to fight. To run. To protect.
“Let me go to him,” Harry pleaded, his voice breaking as he pointed toward Sirius.
The man didn’t flinch. “Your friend will get the help he needs. But only if you cooperate.”
Harry’s grip tightened on his wand. He didn’t trust them. He didn’t trust anyone, not with Sirius, not with anything. He was about to argue when Sirius, still on the ground, groaned and lifted his head weakly.
“James.” Sirius rasped, using the name that still sent an ache through Harry’s chest. “It’s okay. Just listen.”
“No, it’s not okay!” Harry shouted back, his voice cracking. Tears threatened to spill as he glared at Sirius, unable to believe his godfather was asking this of him. “You’re hurt! I...”
“Harry,” Sirius interrupted,eyes more clear and his voice firmer now, though he winced with every word. “Please.”
Harry’s shoulders slumped in defeat, his wand lowering as the fight drained out of him. Fury nodded, motioning for his men to stand down.
“Good choice,” Fury said. He gestured to his team. “Secure him.”
Before Harry could respond, they surrounded him, gripping his arms tightly. He didn’t resist this time, though the anger bubbling in his chest made him want to lash out.
As they dragged him toward a waiting car, Harry’s gaze locked on the man who had fired the shot, the tall stranger from the bus. Him. The one who had put Sirius in danger.
Harry’s glare was like fire, searing into the man as they were both pushed into the back of the same vehicle. The stranger opened his mouth as if to say something, but Harry turned his head away sharply, refusing to acknowledge him.
The car was tense and silent, save for the hum of the engine. Harry stared out the window, clenching his fists so hard his nails bit into his palms.
After what felt like an eternity, the car slowed, and they were ushered out. Harry’s heart sank as he looked up to see an enormous aircraft, the likes of which he’d never seen before. Smoke and debris still clung to the air, but the sleek design of the ship was undeniable.
“A helicarrier?” Harry muttered under his breath, bewildered despite himself.
Nick Fury appeared beside him as if from nowhere, his voice low but firm. “Welcome aboard, Potter. Let’s hope you’re ready to give us some answers.”
Harry barely heard him. His thoughts were stuck on Sirius, on his father, and on the stranger walking beside him, the man who had turned Harry’s already broken world into something unrecognizable.
And for the first time in years, Harry felt truly alone.