Chapter Text
1. It´s all Harry Potter´s fault
-Unknown location, 2017-
Harry knew he was in a lot of trouble, but honestly, they all know what he´s like and still left him unsupervised. They really shouldn´t expect him to do something intelligent. At least not all the time-that´s just being greedy.
Harry finally pushed himself up from the cold floor, struggling a bit since the blast had twisted his left foot. Walking carefully, he headed toward the other fallen bodies; he noticed they weren´t too badly hurt-some were already getting up.
"Harry James Potter, you are so dead!" Hermione screeched from his right as she marched toward him to hit him "We told you not to move" She continued scolding him while smacking him repeatedly.
"In my defense, you left me alone" Everyone already on their feet stared at him "...Sorry" he added, embarrased.
"Do we at least know where we are?" Neville asked from somewhere in front of Harry. Everyone shook their heads.
"Looks like we´re somewhere in the Muggle world" Harry replied, rubbing the arm where Hermione Had hit him the hardest.
"That´s bad, very bad" Hermione scolded "We were all in the Ministry and out of nowhere we end up...somewhere in the country"
"Well, that´s Potty´s fault" Draco pointed out the obvious as he brushed the dust off himself. If it was staining his clothes even more, no one mentioned it-they all knew that would only start an argument.
"What do you suggest we-" Harry began, but he was cut off by a plane that landed just a few meters away from them.
"This doesn´t look good" Everyone nodded and instintively moved closer to Harry. As some poeple descended the plane´s ramp, they noticed they were carrying weapongs. A few of the group pulled out their wands but kept them hidden inside their sleeves so they wouldn´t be noticed, while others others stepped back. There was no time to even attempt Apparition-for those who could.
A voice called out from atop the plane "Hands up! Don´t try anything or we´ll shoot!" They exchanged looks before tucking their wands away. Given their current situation, it was better to go with these people and figure out a way back to the Ministry.
When the armed men reached them, they were all taken without resistance-except Draco, who struggled a bit until a gun was pointed at him again-and they were handcuffed before being escorted onto the plane. Inside, they were led to a large glass enclosure and locked inside it, still wearing the handcuffs.
—Quinjet Control Cabin—
Nick Fury and his agents watched the interaction of the people trapped inside the glass enclosure.
“See what you’ve caused, Potter,” a blond boy snapped at the bespectacled one. “But no, you just had to prove your luck isn’t absolute rubbish—and surprise, we ended up prisoners.” He spat the words with sharp irony.
“Could’ve been worse,” another blond boy on his left added. “We nearly died in the Tournament last year.”
“Fair point,” a girl chimed in. “At least we’re all in one piece.”
“But we almost weren’t,” a man dressed in black with long black hair said. “The mangy mutt here nearly threw himself through the Veil.”
The girl from before kept glancing around the room until her eyes stopped on a camera, widening in surprise.
“They’re watching us—there are cameras in here.”
A few of them seemed to understand faster than the others.
One of the redheads spoke up. “What’s that supposed to be?”
“Like a Pensieve… only instead of memories, it shows everything happening at the same time,” the girl explained—before stepping on the bespectacled boy’s foot to make him shut up.
“Sorry.”
No one else spoke inside that glass cell.
“Bring each of them in for individual questioning. Once we land, put them in separate rooms,” Director Fury ordered.
The two spies nodded and headed toward the cell. As they approached, the detainees turned to look at them. Behind the spies came more agents, ready to escort the entire group to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s interrogation rooms.
“We’re going to ask you a few questions, so you’ll be coming with us.”
Right after that, each agent grabbed a “prisoner.” This time there was more resistance, but they still managed to take each of them into separate rooms, where they were handcuffed to the tables. All the wizards knew they couldn’t attack without a wand—at least those who couldn’t use magic without one—because a gun was faster, and because they couldn’t reach their captors from where they were placed.
They left each of them alone in their interrogation rooms and returned to Director Fury.
“Who do you suggest we interrogate first?”
“The boy with the glasses—he spoke the most, even after being warned he was being watched.”
Fury nodded and allowed them to proceed.