Meanwhile, Back at the Safehouse in New York…
Nick Fury was in a mood.
A bad mood.
The kind of mood that made you wonder if the man could turn his eye laser-sharp enough to slice through steel, just by sheer force of will. And honestly? That wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was when Fury was angry, you couldn't tell if you should laugh, run, or consider a very urgent career change. Which, in Maria Hill's case, was something she had seriously been considering at least once a day for the last week.
She walked behind him, just far enough to avoid the brunt of his storm, but close enough to keep an eye on the situation—and by "situation," she meant everything that might explode in their path. Which, let's face it, was pretty much everything when Fury was involved.
When they arrived at the safehouse, the first thing Fury did was kick the door open. You know, the kind of door-kicking that nobody in their right mind does when they're just casually entering a room. The kind that says: "I'm not here to say 'hello.' I'm here to make a point, and it's going to be loud."
Inside, the safehouse looked eerily calm, but Maria had been doing this long enough to know that the calm before a Fury storm was the worst kind of storm. Clint Barton was sitting at the kitchen table, happily munching away on a bowl of cereal like the world wasn't about to implode.
Fury's eye locked onto Clint. Clint froze mid-bite, the spoon just barely hovering near his mouth.
"…Hey, boss," Clint said, trying for nonchalant, but failing miserably. His eyes darted between Fury and the bowl of cereal like the only thing standing between him and certain death was that spoon.
Fury narrowed his single eye so hard it looked like it was going to burn a hole through Clint's skull. "Where. The hell. Is Stark?"
Clint blinked and then, in the most casual way possible, gestured vaguely around the room. "Uh... Definitely not here."
Fury didn't even flinch. "Is that so?"
Clint set the spoon down with the speed of a man who knew his life was hanging by a very thin thread. "Look, I was just told to keep an eye on things. When Stark, his dad, Captain America, and Barnes decide to play mad scientists, I… I figure it's best to just let them. My advice? Get comfy, 'cause you'll be shooting something later. Probably."
Fury turned to Maria, who was rubbing her temples as though it might alleviate the headache she could already feel forming. "He's not lying," she said, offering up the kind of resigned expression only someone who had spent far too much time around Fury could pull off. "Stark's off-site."
Fury growled. "Of course he is."
Maria sighed, but it wasn't the tired kind of sigh. It was the "I might have to officially start the paperwork for a new boss" sigh. "When Stark gets a look in his eye, there's no telling what's going to happen next. And this? This is Stark with the 'I'm smarter than everyone and I'm going to prove it' look."
Fury swiveled on his heel. "Fine. Fine! We're going to Stark Labs. And when I get there, I swear to—"
Suddenly, a voice cut him off. "You're looking for the Starks?"
Fury whipped around so fast he nearly collided with Maria.
There, standing in the doorway like she'd just teleported from a different dimension, was Natasha Romanoff. She didn't even flinch at Fury's glare. She just stood there, holding a coffee mug like she had all the time in the world. And maybe she did.
"Ah, yes," she said, sipping from the mug with the slow, deliberate motion of someone who had absolutely no respect for the concept of urgency. "They're at the lab. Something about decrypting Hydra files, cracking open a cryo chamber, and proving that Tony is the smartest idiot alive."
Fury's eye twitched. Maria let out another sigh. "Is that so?" she muttered.
Clint, who had now finished his cereal (don't ask where it went, you don't want to know), leaned back in his chair and threw in his two cents. "Yup. I'm just here to keep an eye on things. 'Cause if I don't, there's a solid chance I'll be getting an email at three in the morning with the subject line, 'Oops, We Did It Again.'"
Fury took two seconds to process the information, then pinched the bridge of his nose like he was about to start a very long and painful meditation session. "Please, tell me you're joking."
Natasha, of course, didn't joke. She just arched a perfect eyebrow. "Do I look like I'm joking?"
Clint, completely deadpan, nodded. "Nope. That's her 'I've got the situation handled' face. You know the one."
Fury just stared at him. Clint shrugged and went back to his chair like it was no big deal.
Fury turned to Maria, whose entire expression was now radiating the same 'I'm-too-tired-for-this' energy. She gave him one of those looks that said, "You made your bed, now lie in it."
He didn't bother responding. Instead, he stormed toward the door like an angry bull. He flung it open with a ferocity that could probably break it off its hinges if he wasn't careful. "We're going to Stark Labs," he declared, the door still flapping in the wind behind him. "And when I get there? Somebody is getting yelled at."
Maria, who had fully embraced the concept of "resignation," let out another sigh and followed him out. "You know, Fury, sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I worked with someone who wasn't constantly on the verge of homicide."
"Don't worry, Maria," Natasha called after them, her voice smooth and cool. "I'll put it on the wish list."
Clint, who had clearly decided to just enjoy the show, leaned back in his chair with a knowing smile. "Think he's actually gonna kill Stark this time?"
Natasha took another sip of coffee, her gaze fixed on the door Fury had just stormed through. "Fifty-fifty," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "But it's gonna be fun either way."
And just like that, the safehouse was quiet again. Too quiet. But anyone who knew Fury—and the Starks—knew that whatever came next, it wasn't going to be pretty.
—
The lab was buzzing with tension—like a group of caffeine-addicted mad scientists trying to solve a Rubik's cube while being chased by a bear. Not the good kind of tension. The kind that makes you wonder if it's time to start asking why you're all in this mess. Tony Stark was sitting there, staring at a decrypted file on the screen in front of him like it was the world's coolest new gadget. Only this one was a little less shiny and a lot more dangerous.
"Okay, so here's the deal," Tony said, gesturing grandly at the holographic screen, as though it was his latest invention about to make him an even richer billionaire. "Hydra's at it again. This time, they were using Erica Hayes as their test subject for some super-soldier serum. Guess what? Big surprise—they failed. Tried cloning her, torturing her, probably offering her the chance to star in a really bad superhero movie. But it didn't work. And now we've got ourselves a Hydra-sized mess."
Howard Stark, who was hovering over Tony's shoulder like the ghost of bad decisions past, raised an eyebrow. "Hydra's classic. They think they can play God, fail miserably, and then double down on their mistakes until things explode. It's their whole vibe."
Bucky Barnes, from the far corner of the room, grunted in agreement. "I'm done with Hydra. I'm done with supervillains. Hell, I'm done with anyone who thinks cloning is the answer to anything except making a bunch of freaky, dangerous copies of yourself."
Steve Rogers, ever the optimist, gave Bucky a sympathetic glance. "We'll figure this out. Together."
"Right. Because nothing screams 'teamwork' like punching Hydra in the face repeatedly," Bucky muttered, his arms crossed, clearly not sold on the 'together' part.
Rhodey, leaning against a table in his usual "I'm not worried, I swear" pose, raised an eyebrow. "Tony, as much as I love watching you toy with dangerous things, what exactly is your genius plan for cleaning up this Hydra mess? You know, besides 'winging it' and hoping for the best?"
Tony flicked a finger lazily at the screen. "Don't worry, Rhodey. I've got it covered. You don't need to stress." He paused, glancing over at his best friend. "And yes, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, 'Does Tony have a plan, or is he just throwing darts at the wall and hoping something sticks?' Spoiler alert: I've got plans. Plural. And a few backups. Backup backups, even."
Howard, who had spent decades dealing with his son's antics, just rubbed his forehead. "Oh, I can list ten times where you thought you had a plan, and it ended in some sort of explosion. But hey, who's counting?"
Tony shot him a smile that could only be described as 'that's cute, Dad.' "I prefer to call it 'creative problem-solving.'"
"Yeah, and by 'creative,' you mean 'let's blow things up and see what happens,'" Rhodey grumbled, rolling his eyes.
Before the banter could go any further, the lab doors suddenly slid open with that ominous whoosh that always meant something bad was coming. All the scientists froze, like deer caught in headlights. Except for Gideon Adler, who just looked way too entertained for someone who should've been at least a little worried.
"Did we—" Bucky started, only to cut himself off when none other than Nick Fury himself stormed into the room, his gaze laser-focused on Tony like the world's most frustrating game of chess.
"Stark," Fury growled, voice low and controlled, but you could practically hear the do not test me underneath. "What in the hell are you doing?"
The entire lab went silent. Tony, of course, didn't flinch. Instead, he turned around with that signature grin plastered on his face like he'd just gotten away with stealing a donut from the office kitchen.
"Oh, just saving the world. You know, the usual. Hydra's been trying to clone super-soldiers again. Thought I'd take a look and—"
"You opened the cryo-chamber, Stark," Fury interrupted, stepping closer. His eyepatch glinted under the harsh lab lights. "You cracked open a sealed chamber I specifically told you not to open. You touched things you weren't supposed to touch!"
Tony shrugged. "Technically, my dad opened it. But to be fair, there was no 'Do Not Open' sticker. So technically, we're in the clear."
Maria Hill, standing just behind Fury, couldn't help but snort at Tony's ridiculous logic. "Classic Stark logic: If it doesn't come with a warning label, it's fair game."
"Exactly!" Tony said, giving her a thumbs-up. "See, she gets it."
Fury pinched the bridge of his nose like he was trying to stop an impending aneurysm. "I swear, if I have to bail you guys out one more time—"
"I'll stop making fun of your 'fashionably late' entrances," Tony shot back, grinning like the world's most insufferable genius.
Fury let out a long, measured sigh. "Fine. Whatever. What did you find, Stark? What makes this—" he motioned toward the files scattered on the table—"not the worst decision in the history of bad decisions?"
Tony waved a hand at the holographic screen, like he was presenting a new product at an Apple keynote. "Hydra's latest super-soldier project? Big fat failure. This time, they were using Erica Hayes as their test subject. Tried cloning her, brainwashing her, basically doing everything except giving her a pet unicorn. Spoiler alert: She didn't cooperate. She's still alive and kicking. And, you know, probably planning her next massive revenge scheme."
Maria Hill leaned in, eyes narrowing. "Erica Hayes? The girl they tried to turn into a weapon?"
"Bingo," Howard said, stepping in now, like he couldn't resist chiming in when Tony was on a roll. "She survived everything they threw at her. But now, we've got a real problem. They're going to come after her. And if Hydra gets their hands on her again—"
Fury cut him off, his frustration bubbling over. "I don't care about the why. I care about the how. How do we stop them from getting their hands on her? How do we protect her?"
Tony leaned back, flashing a grin that could've convinced anyone he was the best superhero on the planet. "Simple. We go in, make sure Hydra knows they've been messing with the wrong group of people."
"Ah, so the usual plan," Rhodey said dryly. "Blow stuff up until it works."
Tony's grin widened. "Exactly. But this time, I've got backup plans. Multiple plans. No explosions… unless absolutely necessary."
Fury gave him a long look. "You better have a plan. Because if not, I'm shipping you off to the bottom of the Hudson."
Maria shot a look at Natasha, who'd quietly slipped into the room. "You think Fury's going to make it out alive?"
Natasha raised an eyebrow, her usual smirk dancing on her lips. "Considering he's still standing? I'm guessing fifty-fifty."
As Fury turned to leave, giving Tony one last scowl, Maria followed closely behind. The tension in the room lifted slightly, but it was quickly replaced with a familiar, low buzz of anticipation.
Clint, who had been unusually quiet, took a long swig of something suspiciously alcoholic from a bottle. "So, who's betting on how long until Fury's patience runs out?"
Bucky smirked. "Place your bets now. Who gets more annoyed first: Fury or Tony?"
Everyone laughed, but one thing was clear: the real war was just getting started. And if Tony Stark had anything to say about it, Hydra was about to get a crash course in bad decisions.
—
A couple of hours after Clint's last, very inspiring, "we're all gonna die" comment, the car ride back to the safehouse was, unsurprisingly, as tense as a rubber band on the verge of snapping. If you didn't count Tony Stark's chaotic genius as a constant source of stress, that is.
Natasha Romanoff was gripping the steering wheel like it was a life raft. Clint Barton, next to her, was chewing gum like it was his life's purpose, popping bubbles with the same reckless abandon he used to throw arrows. In the backseat, Maria Hill and Nick Fury were sitting as stiff as two coiled springs, their silence nearly as uncomfortable as the backstory of how they ended up here.
Clint glanced at Natasha, an eyebrow cocked. "So, this whole 'rescuing Erica from Hydra' thing's gonna be easy, right? Like a spy movie with fewer explosions?"
Maria didn't even blink. She just stared out the window, probably calculating how many ways this could all go to hell. Natasha shot Clint a look that could melt glass.
"Tony's plan never goes to plan, Clint," she muttered. "I'm just hoping it doesn't explode in our faces."
Clint's grin turned a little lopsided. "Tony doesn't do 'failures,' but man, he loves a good chaotic disaster. It's almost charming."
Maria rubbed the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath. "Charming? More like unbelievably messy."
"Right," Natasha sighed, pushing the gas pedal down. "Our job is to get Erica. We get to the safehouse, we make sure Hydra can't track her again. Simple as that."
Clint's eyes gleamed. "Yeah, because simple and working with Hydra totally go hand-in-hand."
"You're confusing simple with 'how did this all go sideways so fast,'" Natasha replied, half amused and half annoyed.
"Ah, same thing," Clint said with a shrug, before popping another piece of gum into his mouth.
About ten minutes later, they turned onto a street that could've been mistaken for a dead-end alley. Which, in spy talk, meant they were exactly where they needed to be. The building was practically begging for someone to ignore it—which was exactly what made it the perfect safehouse.
After parking, they quickly made their way inside, and Fury and Maria fell silent, eyes scanning the place with a wariness only a few decades of world-saving could give you. Peggy Carter was leaning casually against the counter, her presence still as commanding as when she fought alongside Captain America. And standing beside her was Erica Hayes, looking like she was about to throw a party and no one was invited.
"Didn't take you guys long," Erica said with a dry smile, taking one last glance at the clock. "I'm guessing you've been having fun, huh? Hydra's usual antics?"
Fury gave a half-nod, eyes narrowed. "Not exactly. But they're coming for you. So, you're staying here. That's the plan."
Erica raised an eyebrow. "A little overdramatic, don't you think?"
Maria stepped forward, looking more annoyed by the second. "We don't have time for games. Hydra's after you, Erica. We need to know everything you know—everything they did to you."
Erica turned her sharp gaze to Maria. "I've got a lot of baggage, Hill. So, if you're looking for some heartwarming 'don't worry, I'm fine' story, I'm fresh out."
Steve Rogers, who had been quietly watching this whole back-and-forth like a guy waiting for his turn at a dentist's office, stepped up. His voice was steady and calm, like he was trying to convince a kid not to eat their candy too fast. "We're not here to fix you, Erica. We're here to help. We need your story so we can make sure Hydra never tries something like this again."
Erica looked between Peggy and Steve, then gave a slow, almost reluctant nod. "Alright. But know this: If you think I'm some kind of miracle cure for Hydra's problems, you're way off. I'm just a mess of chemicals and scars, and that's not something I'm going to forget."
"Well, that's not exactly comforting," Clint commented, popping his gum. "But we'll work with it. Hydra and their 'mind control' issues aren't exactly a new problem. Just one I could do without."
Maria shot Clint a glare, but Clint seemed unfazed. "If I had a nickel for every time Hydra tried to mess with someone's mind, I'd have... I dunno... enough for a vacation home in the Bahamas."
Erica's eyes flashed with amusement. "Are we talking about Hydra or you, Barton?"
"Both. But mostly Hydra. They're the ones with the really nice 'let's mess you up' plans."
"Funny," Erica said, crossing her arms, "because I'm real tired of being messed with."
Fury cleared his throat, his tone snapping back to business. "We don't have time for games, Erica. You're a survivor, but we need your help to keep Hydra from turning you into their next weapon."
Erica gave Fury an almost pitying look. "Weapons don't have scars. Or memories. Or trust issues. But nice try."
Steve, with all the quiet intensity of someone who'd been in more battles than any man should, added, "No one's asking you to trust us yet. But if you don't work with us, Hydra will get to you first. And they won't ask you nicely."
Erica was quiet for a moment, her gaze shifting back to Peggy. Peggy gave her a small, subtle nod, the kind that said, It's okay. We're in this together.
And Erica—well, she took a deep breath, like she was finally ready to talk. But before she could open her mouth, Bucky Barnes, who had been lurking in the doorway like a grumpy cat, folded his arms and grunted. "Anyone think this whole 'Hydra' thing is way too complicated? Like, can we not just get a simple villain for once? We don't need to add 'emotionally complicated' to our list of problems."
Erica raised an eyebrow, giving Bucky a once-over. "Right. Because Hydra was really about simple."
Bucky shot her a look that said he wasn't impressed. "I've been through worse than Hydra. They're nothing new."
Erica's lips curved into a slight, knowing grin. "I can work with that."
The room grew heavier with the weight of everything that was coming next. Hydra wasn't just an enemy anymore—it was a global disease. And now, it seemed like they were the cure. A messy, broken, but stubbornly alive cure.
And as always, with the Avengers, they weren't backing down.
Clint slapped his hands together like he was ready to get to work. "Alright, so here's the deal. We stop Hydra from taking Erica. We stop them from turning her into their next 'weapon.' And we do it with less 'drama' than last time. Sound good?"
Erica glanced over at him. "For the record, I'm in charge of the explosions."
"Well, that was a given," Clint said with a grin. "Good to have you on the team, Hayes."
—
The door creaked open, and in walked Ted Tonks—looking as calm as someone who'd just discovered that all the chaos happening around them was actually a well-organized mess. The kind of chaos you expect when you're dealing with a black hole bomb, a time-stopping potion, and a lab that might spontaneously combust at any given moment. Ted's grin was plastered on his face, but the spark in his eyes was doing its best impression of a pressure cooker about to blow.
"Oi, you lot!" Ted called, crossing his arms and eyeing the black hole bomb like it was a puppy with a very dangerous squeaky toy. "Guess who just landed at the safehouse?"
James—still in the middle of shoving random objects into cabinets like he was on some weird game show challenge—didn't even miss a beat. "Fury?"
"You know it." Ted raised an eyebrow like he knew something they didn't. "He's about five minutes away, and—before you ask—he's in a mood. Said something about 'professionalism' and 'this isn't Hogwarts.' Honestly, I couldn't tell if he was threatening us or just referencing the state of the lab."
James froze, mid-shove, and shot Ted a horrified glance. "Wait—he's coming here? Now?"
Ted nodded, completely unfazed. "Yep. The whole 'safehouse' thing didn't work out after someone accidentally blew up half the building last week. So, here we are. Which, if you ask me, is a terrible idea, but hey, who am I to say no to an angry Fury?"
Sirius—who had been casually rearranging mismatched potions as though there wasn't a ticking time bomb in the room—did a double-take. "Wait—this place? He's coming here?"
Ted's grin widened, and she casually leaned against the doorframe like this wasn't the worst possible thing that could happen. "Oh yeah. So, you've got about... what, three minutes? Maybe four? Before he bursts in and ruins all this... artistic chaos you've got going on."
Harry—who had been quietly observing the scene, making a mental note to start a betting pool on when the inevitable explosion would happen—raised an eyebrow. "So, let me get this straight. We've got a black hole bomb, a time-stopping potion, a lab on the verge of spontaneous combustion, and Fury's about to walk in, ready to—what exactly?"
"Yell at us?" Ted suggested with a shrug. "I mean, that's his go-to move. Then he'll probably do that thing where he glares at us like he can melt our faces off with his eyes." She gave them a pointed look. "Oh, and if any of you blow up the lab before he gets here, I will personally make sure you spend the rest of your lives in a broom cupboard."
James—already in full "panic mode" and definitely considering the broom cupboard as his new home—paused long enough to look at her like she'd lost her mind. "Really? Because I'm pretty sure a broom cupboard wouldn't be the worst fate. I've had worse punishments at Hogwarts. I'm pretty sure the cupboard comes with Wi-Fi these days."
Sirius—who was now eyeing the door as if it were a bear trap waiting to snap shut—glared at James. "Forget the cupboard. If Fury even thinks about walking in here before we finish hiding this—" He waved a hand at the mess of beakers, vials, and what might have been an illegally-brewed potion that could turn someone into a frog. "—we'll be lucky if we make it out of here without being dust bunnies."
"Or actual bunnies," Lily added darkly, her voice sweet as honey but carrying that underlying threat that only she could pull off. She gave both James and Sirius a pointed look. "Remember, that's Plan B."
James winced like he'd just been hit by a wayward Bludger. "Yeah, okay, Plan B's not sounding so fun anymore."
Ted rolled her eyes like this was literally the millionth time she'd had to deal with them. She strolled over to the cabinet, avoiding a bubbling cauldron that was definitely illegal in at least three countries. "You two always make everything so complicated. But, alright, I'll tell you what. Since I'm feeling generous today, I'll cover the distraction. You just get everything mostly hidden before Fury comes in here with that glower that makes me feel like my soul is being roasted over a fire."
"Distraction?" Sirius repeated suspiciously. "What kind of distraction?"
Ted flashed a mischievous grin, like she was already imagining the chaos. "Let's just say I'm gonna turn the volume up to eleven. Give you guys those precious seconds you need to look innocent."
James—who had the expression of someone who'd just been handed a ticket to freedom—beamed. "Ah, I like the sound of that. You're a genius, Ted."
"Don't make me regret this," Ted muttered, making her way to the door, but not before adding, "You've got five minutes before Fury arrives. Get your act together. And please, for the love of all things magical, don't make me clean up another mess after this."
James gave a theatrical salute, the kind that was a bit too dramatic for someone in his position. "You got it, Captain. We're practically professionals at this point."
Ted shot him one last look, clearly unimpressed by their bravado. "Yeah, if by 'professionals' you mean 'pranksters in denial,' then sure, yeah, you're practically pros."
As Ted stepped out of the room, Harry muttered under his breath, "Professionals? If by professionals, you mean 'perpetual chaos machines,' then, sure, we're practically experts."
Sirius—his trademark grin plastered across his face, but a little anxiety creeping into his eyes—stretched his arms. "Alright, time's ticking. You know what they say—better to hide everything quickly than to end up in Fury's crosshairs."
Lily didn't say anything at first, but the way she eyed the time-stopping potion in her hand, turning it over with the precision of someone who had definitely calculated the worst possible outcome if this went wrong, spoke volumes. "If this goes wrong..." she started, then trailed off, voice sweet but carrying that quiet, razor-sharp edge of someone about to murder someone and feel completely justified about it. "Well, just don't go blaming me."
"Agreed," James said quickly, casting a nervous glance at the cabinet where the black hole bomb still sat slightly too visible. "Alright, team, operation Hide Everything and Pray Fury Doesn't Notice is go. Everyone ready?"
Sirius cracked his knuckles like he was about to throw down with a dragon. "Ready as I'll ever be. Let's make some magic happen—or, you know, hide it."
And with that, the team fell into the chaos of trying to hide their mess in time. It was a race against the clock, with only a few seconds left before Fury inevitably burst through that door. And as the seconds ticked down, they all prayed to whatever gods were listening that the explosion didn't come before Fury did.
Let's just say… it was going to be close.
—
The door creaked open with that ominous sound you only hear when the universe has decided that it's time for someone to pay for their mistakes—preferably in the form of an explosion or a minor apocalypse. Honestly, Harry didn't know which one would be more fun at this point.
And then, of course, in walks Nick Fury, the human embodiment of a storm cloud that had somehow gained sentience and an eye patch. The man had an aura about him—part "I will destroy you with my glare" and part "I am so done with you idiots." He wasn't alone either; Maria Hill followed behind him, walking like she had a permanent case of "I've-seen-this-before-and-I-don't-have-time-for-your-stupidity" syndrome.
Fury's gaze swept across the room like a heat-seeking missile, taking in everything with that one dangerous eye. "I'm gonna ask this once, and I'm not gonna like the answer," he growled. "What. The. Hell. Is. This?"
James, always the optimist and eternal idiot, flashed a grin that could've charmed a snake into volunteering for a petting zoo. "Ah, Fury! Always a pleasure, my friend. How's the eye?" he asked, his tone far too casual for the fact that they might have just created the world's first black hole on a Tuesday afternoon.
Fury's eye didn't blink. "You wanna make a joke about my eye, James? Because if you do, I'm gonna personally make sure you only get to use that mouth to chew on rocks for the next decade. Got it?"
James paled a shade of white usually reserved for ghosts. "Loud and clear, sir."
Beside him, Lily raised an eyebrow, an expression that could've melted the tension if anyone else had dared to do it. "Fury," she said with that silky smooth, too-calm-for-this-tone that made everyone in the room instinctively shuffle a little farther away from her. "We're fine. Totally fine. Nothing to see here. Just some light science experimentation—no need to get dramatic."
Sirius, naturally, couldn't help himself. "Oh, we're good, right? I mean, who doesn't love a little chaos, right? Totally normal day at the office!" he added, holding up a glowing vial that might've been filled with something either really important or really, really dangerous. Possibly both.
Lily elbowed him in the ribs so hard it could've qualified as an Olympic sport. "Shut. Up."
Fury was staring at them now, one eyebrow arched, his gaze as steely as a blade ready to be plunged into something—preferably not any of them, but they couldn't be sure at this point. "You're telling me this is all fine? You've got dark magic, untraceable potions, and a black hole bomb in here," Fury drawled, his voice dangerously low, like he was preparing to perform a supervillain monologue. "And yet, you all look remarkably innocent, considering that you've got enough illegal stuff to get us on every 'wanted' poster on this planet."
"Oh, right, black hole bomb. I forgot that one was in here," Sirius said, dropping the vial with an exaggerated shrug that looked completely innocent. Too innocent. Far too innocent.
Lily shot him a look that could've turned coal into diamonds. "We're not calling it that," she said, her voice the kind of sweet that usually preceded someone's untimely demise.
Fury's lip curled into something that wasn't quite a smile—more like the grimace of someone who'd been told they had to explain the entire plot of a bad movie to a child. "You're telling me there's nothing that could possibly go wrong in here? Nothing at all?"
"Well, nothing major. I mean, sure, if we suddenly opened a rift in the fabric of time or unleashed a dragon or two, but we've got it under control," Harry piped up, stepping forward with the kind of fake confidence only a teenager who had no idea what they were doing could muster. "Look, Fury, trust me, we've been at this for, what? Hours now? No one's dead. Yet."
Fury, who was clearly not trusting him, looked at Hill, who gave the sort of sigh that would've made an adult-sized child look for an exit.
"Calculated, huh?" Hill piped in, crossing her arms with a raised eyebrow. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're gambling that the universe won't implode because you all decided to play mad scientist in your spare time."
"Gamblers gotta have fun, Hill!" Sirius said, putting his hands up like he was just here for the ride. "You act like I'm the only one betting on a chaotic outcome."
Lily shot him another look, this one accompanied by the sound of air being rapidly sucked out of the room. "You're not helping, Padfoot."
Fury's nostrils flared. "You're telling me, you're all playing with the kind of mess that could end the world as we know it, and you haven't thought through the consequences?" Fury's gaze locked onto them, as if daring them to admit they had, indeed, thought it through...and maybe had accidentally invented chaos in the process.
James, caught somewhere between sheer panic and professional bravado, put up his best attempt at looking like a calm and collected genius. "Come on, Fury. We're totally professionals. I mean, this is just… really advanced stuff. You know, magic stuff. Science stuff. It all works itself out eventually. Just a minor hiccup, right?" He gave a half-hearted glance to Sirius, who was trying to look casual while still holding onto what appeared to be some sort of glowing rock.
Fury's eye twitched.
"You better be right, or you'll all be cleaning up the fallout from whatever dumb thing you've done here. Or I'll make you clean up me," Fury added in a low growl, like he might just snap his fingers and turn them all into a fine mist.
Hill turned her back to them, already heading for the door. "And if the universe does end? I'm gonna go ahead and say 'I told you so,'" she said dryly.
Fury gave one last look, the kind that promised doom if even a single thing went wrong. "Don't make me come back here. You idiots have one job—and that job is not making me regret every single decision I've ever made."
With that, he turned and marched out, leaving Hill to follow, her presence as calming as a hurricane warning.
As soon as the door closed behind them, the tension in the room vanished like a dropped balloon.
James slumped against the nearest table, looking like he'd just aged ten years. "Well, that could've gone worse, right?"
"Only if we hadn't hidden the black hole bomb," Harry said flatly.
Sirius, ever the optimist, slapped James on the back with a grin. "Progress! Fury didn't melt anyone's face off, so that's a win in my book."
Lily sighed, rubbing her temples. "Next time, I'm voting for 'not blowing anything up.' You know, a low-key approach."
James, ever the charmer, flashed his usual grin. "Because that's totally realistic."
And so, with everything still just slightly on the edge of chaos, they got back to the business of pretending they had any idea what they were doing. They all knew one thing: the world might not be ending today, but it sure as hell wasn't for lack of trying.
---
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