The aftermath of Death's visit left an undeniable mark on the Avengers.

Thor treated Harry with reverence, calling him Master of Death at every opportunity. Loki—ever the opportunist—was far too entertained by the chaos Harry's mere existence created. The rest of the team had mostly adjusted, though Natasha and Bruce watched him very closely.

And Tony?

Tony tried to act normal. Tried to keep things light, tried to make jokes about how Harry's life was "a horror movie with an unlimited budget." But he watched too. Not in fear. Not in suspicion.

But in concern.

Because this wasn't normal.

Even by Stark standards.

And when Nick Fury finally came knocking, things only got worse.

It started with the usual fanfare—alarms, security measures, the whole deal. Fury could have called ahead, but that wasn't his style. No, the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. preferred dramatic entrances.

The moment he stepped off the Helicarrier, striding into Avengers Tower like he owned the place, Harry already knew this was going to be annoying.

"Where is he?" Fury demanded the second he stepped inside. His eye flicked around the room, taking in the gathered Avengers. "Where's the kid?"

"Which one?" Tony asked, already exasperated.

Fury glared. "You know which one."

Harry chose that moment to step forward, his expression unreadable. "You're looking for me."

Fury turned. Their eyes locked.

And something shifted in the air.

Fury was a man used to control. He was powerful, commanding. He had led armies, directed heroes, and stood face-to-face with gods.

But this?

This was different.

Harry's presence was not normal.

The air felt heavy, pressing against Fury's skin like an invisible force. The temperature seemed to drop, not physically, but in some deeper, unreal way. The lights overhead flickered just slightly, like a silent warning.

Fury had met powerful people before. But this was not power.

This was death.

And it was watching him.

Still, he didn't back down. "So, you're Stark's kid."

Harry tilted his head slightly. "I suppose I am."

Fury crossed his arms. "We need to talk."

Harry's glowing emerald eyes didn't waver. "Do we?"

The temperature dropped another degree.

Fury clenched his jaw. "Yeah, kid. We do." He turned to Tony. "You should've told me sooner."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Oh, my bad, I didn't realize I had to report every single family reunion to Big Brother."

"This isn't a joke, Stark," Fury snapped. "Your son is an unknown variable. His existence is an unknown variable." His gaze flickered back to Harry. "And S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't like unknowns."

Harry let out a slow breath, his magic curling around him. "Let me guess," he said, his voice quiet but sharp, "you think you can contain me? Control me? Classify me as a threat and throw me into some hidden facility for 'monitoring'?"

Fury didn't deny it.

Because that was what S.H.I.E.L.D. did.

They classified threats. They eliminated risks.

Harry smiled.

And it was not a pleasant expression.

It was slow, cold, utterly devoid of warmth. It was the kind of smile a predator gives when it realizes its prey is too foolish to recognize its own danger.

"You have no idea what you're dealing with," Harry said, voice still calm.

Fury narrowed his eye. "Enlighten me."

Harry took a single step forward. The lights dimmed again, the air warped, and for the briefest moment—

Fury felt something watching him.

Not just Harry.

Something else.

Something vast.

Something that was not human.

Death.

It coiled around Harry like a protective shadow, unseen but felt. It was possessive, whispering against the edges of Fury's consciousness, a warning wrapped in the cold hush of eternity.

"Mine," the voice of Death murmured, just for Fury to hear.

Fury's breath hitched.

And then—

It was gone.

Harry's eyes were still glowing, but his expression remained unreadable.

"You are not my handler," he said simply.

Fury exhaled slowly, keeping his stance firm. "I'm not trying to be your handler, kid. I'm trying to assess the situation."

Harry's smirk returned, slow and dangerous. "Then let me help you, Director."

The lights flickered violently, and suddenly—

Fury felt it again.

The weight. The awareness.

And for the first time in a long time—Nick Fury felt small.

"You don't assess me," Harry continued, his voice as smooth as silk over steel. "You don't contain me. You don't classify me as an asset, a threat, or anything else that fits inside your little bureaucratic system."

Fury took a breath, forcing himself to stay steady. "And what should I classify you as?"

Harry's gaze didn't waver.

"Something beyond your control."

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Even the Avengers—who had seen Harry's power firsthand—remained very still.

Then—

Fury stepped back.

It was small, nearly imperceptible. A fraction of an inch. But it was enough.

Harry had won.

Death purred in satisfaction, unseen but present.

Fury exhaled sharply. "Fine. I'll play nice—for now. But if I find out you're a threat to this world, you'll be hearing from me."

Harry smiled again. "You won't find anything, Director. And if you try?"

Fury waited.

"You," Harry said softly, "will not be the one who finds me."

Fury's expression remained unreadable, but his eye flickered—just slightly—to the shadowed corners of the room.

As if expecting something to be there.

Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away.

The moment he was gone, Tony let out a long, exaggerated breath. "Whew! Well, that was horrifying."

Natasha smirked. "I think you actually scared Fury."

"Yeah," Clint muttered. "And Fury never gets scared."

Harry's eyes dimmed slightly, the glow receding. "Good," he said simply.

Tony shook his head, laughing dryly. "Alright, note to self—pissing off my kid is a bad idea."

Harry smirked. "Very bad."

And as the Avengers slowly relaxed, as the tension finally lifted, Loki—who had been watching the entire interaction with far too much amusement—leaned over and whispered in Thor's ear.

"I like him."

Thor sighed. "That is what concerns me."