The holding cells beneath MACUSA Headquarters had been designed for one purpose.
To imprison witches and wizards powerful enough that ordinary cells meant nothing.
Every wall was carved with hundreds of anti-magic runes, layered one over another until the grey stone itself seemed alive with faint silver light. Intricate enchantments spread across the floor beneath each prisoner's feet, suppressing sudden bursts of magic without interfering with ordinary conversation or movement. Heavy enchanted chains rested loosely around the prisoner's wrists and ankles, appearing almost decorative until someone attempted to remove them.
Dennis Creevey examined the cell with quiet curiosity.
He had expected something far less comfortable.
The wooden chair was surprisingly well made, the room was clean, and someone had even left a small bookshelf in one corner containing several old magical history books. If not for the enchanted chains around his wrists, the room could almost have passed for a modest guest room.
"I've definitely stayed in worse places," he murmured to himself with an amused smile.
His Glamour Charm had faded nearly an hour earlier.
Without his wand to maintain it, the subtle alterations to his appearance had gradually unraveled until his real face returned. The reflection staring back from the polished metal water pitcher beside the bed showed nothing particularly remarkable—a young wizard barely into his teen with short brown hair, friendly features, and kind eyes.
At first glance, he hardly looked dangerous.
Only the thin scars crossing one side of his jaw hinted that life had taught him harder lessons than most men his age.
Dennis leaned back against the wall and folded his arms.
The waiting did not bother him.
From the moment Aurors had apparated into Xavier's School with their wands drawn, Dennis had understood exactly what was happening.
MACUSA had not arrested him because they believed he was a criminal.
They simply believed he knew someone they wanted to find.
Two floors above, inside one of MACUSA's secure conference rooms, nearly a dozen Aurors had gathered around a long oak table.
The atmosphere was noticeably less relaxed than the one inside Dennis's cell.
Folders lay open across the polished wood, photographs shifted through surveillance reports, and several maps of New York had been pinned to a nearby wall with coloured markers indicating Dennis Creevey's movements over the previous two weeks.
Auror Captain Evelyn Brooks remained standing at the head of the table.
She looked around the room before speaking.
"This is not the wizard we expected to find."
One of the younger Aurors glanced down at the report in front of him before speaking.
"The wards functioned exactly as designed."
"They detected unauthorized spellcasting inside the observation perimeter."
"They alerted nearby response teams."
Captain Brooks agreed. "The wards did precisely what they were supposed to do."
She tapped the photograph lying on the table.
"They simply caught someone other than the person we were actually looking for."
Another Auror folded his arms.
"Even so, he concealed his identity with a Glamour Charm before entering Xavier's School."
"He deliberately hid his appearance."
"He was investigating the same locations as our unidentified wizard."
"It justifies questioning him," Brooks replied calmly. "It does not justify arresting him indefinitely."
She looked around the table, making certain everyone understood the distinction.
"The Glamour Charm itself is perfectly legal."
"His wand registration is genuine."
"His visitor's permit is valid."
"His entry documents passed every inspection."
Every Auror present understood exactly what she was saying.
The law placed limits on their authority. Those limits did not disappear simply because a case seemed important.
Finally, one of the older investigators leaned forward.
"Then we question him."
"If he truly knows this mysterious wizard, perhaps he'll tell us something useful."
Captain Brooks nodded slowly.
"We'll question him."
She looked meaningfully around the room.
"But we do it properly."
Brooks noticed every one of them.
"The moment we ignore procedure," she said quietly, "everything we learn becomes worthless."
Several minutes later, Captain Brooks entered the holding cells carrying nothing more threatening than a leather notebook.
Dennis looked up from his seat and offered a friendly smile.
"Good afternoon."
She pulled a chair across the stone floor and sat opposite him.
"Mr. Creevey."
There was no hostility in her voice.
"If this interview proceeds as I expect, you won't be here very long."
Dennis chuckled.
"That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all day."
For just a moment...
Captain Brooks almost smiled.
Captain Brooks opened her notebook, uncapped her fountain pen, and looked at Dennis for a long moment before writing the first line across the page.
"For the record," she said in a calm, professional voice, "please state your full name."
"Dennis John Creevey."
His answer came immediately.
"Nationality?"
"British."
"Occupation?"
Dennis paused for a moment, genuinely considering the question.
"...Traveller."
One of Captain Brooks' eyebrows rose ever so slightly.
"Traveller?"
Dennis shrugged with a small smile.
"It sounds better than unemployed."
Brooks simply wrote down his answer before continuing.
"What is the purpose of your visit to the United States?"
"Tourism."
She waited a moment, expecting him to elaborate.
When he didn't, she looked up from the notebook.
"And?"
"And visiting a friend."
"Who?"
"Harry Potter."
For the first time since entering the room, Captain Brooks stopped writing. She slowly lifted her eyes from the page and studied Dennis's expression.
He had spoken the name as naturally as someone mentioning a family member.
"Is this friend an American citizen?"
"No."
"Do you know where he currently lives?"
"No."
"You don't know?"
Dennis shook his head.
"If I knew where Harry was..."
He smiled faintly.
"...I wouldn't still be looking for him."
Behind the enchanted observation window, several Aurors exchanged puzzled glances.
A man had crossed the Atlantic searching for someone without even knowing where that person lived.
Captain Brooks continued as though nothing unusual had been said.
"Why did you visit Xavier's School?"
"I hoped someone there might know Harry."
"And did they?"
Dennis spread his hands helplessly.
"I was interrupted before I could ask very many questions."
A quiet sigh escaped one of the observers behind the glass.
Every answer Dennis gave was perfectly reasonable.
Captain Brooks changed direction.
"You've spent nearly two weeks investigating locations connected to mutant activity."
"I've visited places where unusual things happened."
"Why?"
"Because Harry has a habit of appearing wherever people need help."
The captain looked at him thoughtfully.
"You say that with remarkable confidence."
Dennis smiled.
"I've known him a long time."
She tapped the end of her pen lightly against the notebook.
"Mr. Creevey..."
"You crossed an ocean looking for someone without an address."
"You've questioned complete strangers."
"You've wandered through neighborhoods recovering from riots."
"You've visited Xavier's School based on little more than instinct."
She leaned back slightly.
"Most people would call that irrational."
Dennis laughed quietly.
"Most people haven't met Harry."
He looked toward the small barred window high in the wall.
"He can't stop helping people."
"That's simply who he is."
For several moments, Captain Brooks simply watched him. There was something unusual about Dennis Creevey. He wasn't behaving like someone protecting a dangerous fugitive. Nor did he seem like an accomplice carefully hiding information.
If anything...
He appeared genuinely convinced that everything he had said made perfect sense.
She decided to ask the question that had puzzled every investigator since his arrest.
"Who exactly is Harry Potter?"
Dennis blinked.
"You've never heard of him?"
"We're asking the questions."
He nodded apologetically.
"Fair enough."
For the first time since the interview had begun, he took several seconds to think before answering.
"Harry Potter is..."
He searched for the right words.
"...someone who carries too much responsibility."
Captain Brooks remained silent, allowing him to continue.
"He never wanted fame."
"But whenever something goes wrong..."
Dennis smiled to himself.
"...he somehow ends up standing between innocent people and whatever is trying to hurt them."
The captain made another note.
"Is he dangerous?"
Dennis considered the question seriously.
"Yes."
Several Aurors behind the observation glass straightened immediately.
Then Dennis continued.
"To the wrong people."
Brooks looked up.
"If you're trying to hurt innocent people..."
Dennis's voice remained calm.
"...Harry can be terrifying."
"But if you're the one who needs help..."
He shrugged.
"...you'll probably never meet a kinder person."
Before she could ask another question, the heavy door behind her opened.
A young Auror stepped inside, breathing just a little faster than normal.
"Captain."
She turned in her chair.
"What is it?"
"They're here."
"Who?"
"The other nineteen visitors who entered the country with Mr. Creevey."
The young Auror hesitated before adding,
"They've arrived with solicitors."
"And?"
"They're formally challenging the legality of Mr. Creevey's detention."
Brooks slowly closed her notebook.
"...Already?"
The Auror nodded.
"They moved very quickly."
Across the room, Dennis couldn't help smiling to himself.
Of course they had.
Those nineteen rebels had been following him almost constantly since arriving in America.
The moment MACUSA detained him...
They had no choice but to intervene.
Not because they were particularly worried about Dennis.
But because they couldn't risk him revealing anything about the rebellion back home.
Captain Brooks rose from her chair.
"This interview is suspended."
She turned toward the door, then paused.
"There is one final question."
Dennis looked up.
"Go ahead."
"If Harry Potter truly is somewhere in America..."
She held his gaze.
"...should MACUSA be concerned?"
Dennis remained silent for several long moments.
When he finally answered, there wasn't the slightest hint of humor in his voice.
"If Harry Potter is in America..."
He smiled faintly.
"...the smartest thing MACUSA can do..."
"...is leave him alone."
Outside, lawyers were already arguing with Aurors about international law, diplomatic procedure, and the rights of foreign visitors.
The moment Dennis Creevey walked out of MACUSA Headquarters with the British delegation, the investigation changed.
For weeks, the Auror Office had been chasing little more than rumors.
An unidentified wizard had appeared wherever mutant violence erupted. The mysterious stranger vanished without leaving behind a usable magical signature. Every investigation ended the same way—too many questions, too little evidence.
Now they finally possessed something concrete.
A name.
Harry Potter.
The effect was immediate.
Inside MACUSA's Intelligence Division, enchanted mirrors flickered to life one after another as communication lines opened across the Atlantic. Owls departed from the Ministry's aviary carrying official requests, while clerks hurried between offices with stacks of reports and international correspondence.
Captain Evelyn Brooks stood in the middle of the controlled chaos, calmly issuing instructions.
"Contact the British Ministry."
She looked toward another team already preparing a communication mirror.
"I also want the International Confederation notified. Request every publicly releasable document concerning Harry Potter. Official records, criminal investigations—anything they are legally permitted to share."
A young Auror looked up from his desk.
"Do you think Britain will cooperate?"
"They'll cooperate as much as politics allows."
Brooks folded her arms.
"And whatever they refuse to send officially..."
She glanced toward the Intelligence Bureau.
"...we'll obtain through international archives."
Within the hour, replies began arriving.
Some European ministries responded politely but cautiously, explaining that much of Harry Potter's history remained classified due to ongoing political instability in Britain. Others simply referred MACUSA to publicly available records, while several nations forwarded copies of reports already shared through the International Confederation.
By late afternoon, a courier entered Captain Brooks' office carrying a thick brown folder bound with enchanted security seals.
He placed it carefully on her desk.
"The compiled file, Captain."
Brooks thanked him and waited until the office had fallen quiet before breaking the seals.
Across the front of the folder, written in bold black letters, were two simple words.
HARRY JAMES POTTER
The very first page contained nothing except a moving photograph.
A young man looked back at her with untidy black hair, bright green eyes behind round spectacles, and the unmistakable lightning-shaped scar upon his forehead. The photograph smiled awkwardly, as though uncomfortable being observed, before glancing away from the camera entirely.
Captain Brooks studied it for several moments.
"...He looks younger than I expected."
Another Auror, curious despite himself, stepped beside her desk.
"That's him?"
"So it would appear."
The first section contained a straightforward summary of Harry Potter's early life.
The Boy Who Lived.
The only known survivor of the Killing Curse.
The child whose survival had marked the fall of one of Britain's darkest wizards.
Captain Brooks continued reading without interruption.
Every page added another piece to a life that seemed increasingly unbelievable.
Harry Potter had defeated a mountain troll while still a first-year student.
He had represented Britain in the Triwizard Tournament and won.
Several Aurors gathered around the desk as the file continued.
One investigator quietly adjusted his spectacles.
"These can't all be accurate."
"They're official records," another replied.
"They've already been verified."
Captain Brooks reached another section.
"The Second Wizarding War..."
She looked up.
"The British Ministry officially recognizes Harry Potter as one of its principal military leaders."
Silence settled across the office.
An elderly investigator slowly leaned forward.
"Lord Voldemort..."
He spoke almost to himself.
"I've only read fragments about him."
Captain Brooks nodded.
"So have I."
"But every international assessment describes him the same way."
She tapped the report.
"One of the most dangerous Dark Wizards in recorded history."
The elderly Auror looked back toward Harry Potter's photograph.
"And this boy defeated him?"
"So the records claim."
The photograph continued looking quietly out of the page, completely unaware that an entire room of foreign investigators had become fascinated by his story.
Eventually the file shifted.
The heroic reports gave way to political summaries.
Britain after the war.
Government restructuring.
Trials.
Purges.
Growing unrest throughout the magical community.
The optimistic tone disappeared almost immediately.
Instead, each report painted the picture of a country struggling to rebuild after years of conflict.
Then she reached another page.
Her expression changed.
"'Current Status.'"
She read aloud for the benefit of everyone gathered nearby.
"'Harry Potter disappeared from Britain"
"'Current location unknown.'"
"'Wanted for questioning regarding multiple incidents involving the permanent removal of magical ability from several individuals.'"
One younger Auror blinked.
"...Permanent removal?"
Captain Brooks slowly turned the next page.
Medical reports.
Investigative summaries.
Every document pointed toward the same extraordinary conclusion.
"If these reports are genuine..."
He struggled to finish the sentence.
"...then this may be one of the most dangerous abilities ever documented."
For witches and wizards, magic wasn't merely a weapon.
It was part of who they were.
To lose it permanently...
Most of the Aurors found the idea deeply unsettling.