Containment
The interrogation room they led him to was small, the kind of small that made Harry feel trapped, boxed in with nowhere to run. His wand was still in his sleeve, and he could easily get out if he wanted, could summon his magic, break whatever enchantments or technological locks they had on this place. But they knew who he was. Knew he was Harry Potter. That alone made him hesitate. These weren’t just some clueless Muggles, they understood exactly who they were dealing with.
More than that, Harry didn’t want to cause trouble for Sirius. He didn’t know the extent of MACUSA, didn’t even know if these men knew of the wizarding governments though they knew his name, but the last thing he needed was to make things worse for his godfather. He was barely hanging on as it was.
With a sigh, Harry dropped into the hard metal chair, folding his arms across his chest. He didn’t trust this place, didn’t trust these people, but he would wait. He had to.
The minutes stretched into hours. At least, it felt that way. The room was silent except for the faint buzz of overhead lights, a constant hum that grated against his nerves.
Harry clutched the ring he wore around his neck, the engagement ring Fred had gotten him, as he tried to calm down. He tried to focus and steady his breathing, but his mind wouldn’t stop racing.
Is Sirius okay?
Is my father alive?
Did that bastard who shot Sirius have something to do with Stark Mansion blowing up?
Anger curled in his gut at the thought. If he found out that the stranger had anything to do with what happened, if he was involved in any way with why Harry might never meet his father, he wouldn’t hold back. Not this time.
The memories kept coming, swallowing him whole. The blast that ripped through the mansion, the fire, the panic, the moment he realized Tony Stark might already be dead. The sharp crack of a gunshot, the way Sirius fell. The helplessness.
And then came the ghosts of the past, slipping into his thoughts like they always did. Fred’s lifeless body, his fiancé stolen from him before they could have the life they dreamed of. Remus and Tonks, their hands inches apart even in death. Dobby, lying still on the cold sand.
Harry clenched his fists so hard his nails dug into his palms. His breath hitched, and before he could stop it, his eyes burned.
No, not now, he thought furiously, blinking rapidly, but the sting didn’t fade. His vision blurred, and his hands trembled in his lap. He was on the verge of breaking, on the edge of losing it.
SLAM.
The door shot open, the sound so sharp and sudden it jolted Harry back into himself. He furiously wiped at his eyes, erasing any evidence of weakness before looking up.
The man standing in the doorway was the same one from before, the one who had ordered the men to take him in. The one with the eyepatch and the heavy presence that filled the entire room.
Nick Fury.
He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a snap before walking toward Harry with slow, deliberate steps.
“I know all about you, Potter,” Fury said, his voice calm but laced with something unreadable. “The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. The Man Who Conquered. Quite the résumé.”
Harry didn’t react, keeping his face carefully neutral. He just watched as Fury pulled out a chair and sat across from him, elbows resting on the metal table.
“So,” Fury continued, “what were you doing in the rubble of Stark Mansion?”
Harry hesitated. He wanted to tell the truth. He wanted to shout it to the world, that Tony Stark was his father, that he had come here to finally meet him, that everything had gone so horribly, horribly wrong. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.
The first person he told had to be Tony. If he was alive.
So instead, Harry squared his shoulders and met Fury’s gaze head-on. “I was just touring America,” he said. “Wrong place, wrong time. My saving-people thing kicked in. You know how it is, sir.”
Fury didn’t move. He just stared at Harry, that one sharp eye unreadable. The silence stretched, thick and heavy.
Then, finally, Fury sighed and shook his head. “You are not a very good liar, Potter.”
Harry tensed.
Fury stood up, glancing toward the door. “I’ll give you more time to come up with a better lie,” he said before walking out without another word.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Harry alone in the suffocating silence.