Chapter One: Flying with the Shiloh Eagles
Author note: This story is part of the Magical Flashpoint Side Story series. It follows "Blessings" and comes before "Bad Cop, Good Cop". It also comes before the Side Story "Of Fear and Overcoming It".
Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own Flashpoint, Harry Potter, Narnia, or Merlin.
In a repeat of my end note from "Dueling Club": As much as I wish I could lay claim to the staff of the Shiloh Dueling Academy, I cannot. I adapted several characters from the movie Facing the Giants for the Academy staff. I have not changed the names of any of the borrowed characters, but I did change a few other things to fit with the Magical Flashpoint 'verse.
And in a shameless plug: Facing the Giants is a wonderful film and everyone should see it! Rent it and 'round up the whole family to enjoy.
"Brooke!" Grant yelled as he shoved aside what was left of the door to his dueling hall. "Brooke! Where are you?" Please, God, don't let anything have happened to her. He barely glanced around the ruined hall as he barreled through the front area, scanning for his wife. "Brooke! Answer me!"
Part of him couldn't help it; even as he searched frantically for Brooke, he saw the graffiti on the walls: MUDBLOOD GO HOME, NO MUGGLES HERE, and even MAGIC IS MIGHT. And proudly emblazoned on one of the walls was a green skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. Anything that could be smashed and ripped apart was smashed and ripped; Grant slid to a halt, dodging around a dueling platform whose wards were wildly fluctuating, the runes that powered said wards cracked and misshapen. His gaze locked on his office door, broken in half and clinging to its one remaining hinge with a stray scrap of metal. The wizard's wand, already in his hand, flicked at the door; he ignored the fact that he was adding to the mess as the door flew out of his path and slammed into the broken wards behind him. Both door and wards fizzled, the wards falling and the door charring as it finally hit the ground with a crash.
"Brooke, where are you?!" Grant shouted as he skidded into the doorway of his office. "BROOKE!" he howled as he spotted her, buried under his office drawers and files; she wasn't moving and her hair spread around her head like a fan, mixed with blood. His first instinct was to run to her, uncover her, and worry about the rest later, but his training kicked in with a vengeance; instead, he swore and pushed off from the doorway, going away from Brooke as he hurtled towards the dueling hall's Floo.
Grant fought past the wreckage of the hall, heavier close to the fireplace and his dueling hall's Apparition Point, snarling words that his wife would have his head for, but he hardly cared. Please, God, don't take her away from me, he begged silently, flinging his hand forward, yelling the spells to clear the debris from the Floo. A second spell lit the fire and Grant darted left to scoop up a handful of Floo Powder. "Auror Division!" he ordered, smashing the powder into the fire. As soon as the flames turned green, he stuck his head through, glaring at the on-duty Auror on the other side.
In a bored tone, the Auror inquired, without even looking up from his magazine, "This is the Auror Division, what is your emergency and Floo of origin?"
"I'm at the Shiloh Dueling Hall; my wife has been attacked!"
27 hours earlier
Greg Parker gave his nipotes an encouraging smile. "I'll be fine for an hour or two; go have fun at your dueling lesson."
The encouragement fell on deaf ears as they both regarded him worriedly. In a way, he understood; the past day and two nights had been anything but 'fine' as his arm and back began to heal from the injuries he'd sustained taking down a terrorist group. There had been a time or two when the only way he'd been able to distract himself from the ache and fierce agony was his kids reading to him or dragging him into mock arguments; Lance had even managed to finagle a Mario Kart contest between himself and his sister, complete with blatant fouls and mini-spats that ranged from normal sibling arguing to squabbles so utterly outrageous that Greg couldn't help but laugh at them.
"Really," Greg added as they continued to stare at him. "I'm much better today than I was yesterday. Now go on, you're going to be late."
Alanna ducked her head, biting her lip; Lance sighed softly, clearly about to give in, when Alanna spoke up. "Come with us."
Both men stared at her. "Come again?" Greg inquired.
"Parents can come and see the lessons," Alanna chirped, gaining confidence. "Mr. Taylor says dueling is just like martial arts and parents can watch their kids do martial arts lessons, so he made the same rule for dueling lessons." She met Greg's eyes, a touch of defiance in her own. "We can take the Knight Bus (1) and then you don't have to Floo."
Greg arched a brow. "I don't consider the Knight Bus a step up from the Floo, mia nipote," he offered drolly. "But I suppose it's the only way I'm going to get you two out of the apartment today, isn't it?"
Twin nods.
The Sergeant groaned to himself and stood up to retrieve his coat. The Knight Bus… This is not going to be fun…
Grant Taylor grinned as he surveyed his bustling dueling hall. His gamble of a few months prior had come close to losing him his entire staff and his business, before he'd even had a chance to roll the dice, but then Brooke – his wonderful, beautiful, till death do them part wife – had stepped in and pleaded for Brady and J.T. to give the Shiloh Dueling Academy one last chance. Do the one last tournament and then, if they wanted to leave, they could.
J.T., already wavering, had agreed at once, but Brady hadn't said anything. For the next two days, as the Techie League swarmed the dueling hall and started putting their tournament together, Brady hadn't said anything. He'd helped when asked and he'd run his regular defensive magic lessons, but he hadn't spoken to his coworkers at all.
Grant was walking past the newly erected audience stands when he spotted Brady talking to one of their longtime customers, Alvin Pervis. Mr. Pervis acted as the de-facto parents' group representative and, usually, his voice carried a fair amount of weight. But Grant would have been deaf, dumb, and blind if he hadn't been able to notice the undercurrents in the parents' group, even before the Calvin kids turned up with their big idea. It was no secret that Mr. Pervis – and several other parents – believed that Shiloh Academy should have a dueling team, but he didn't seem to realize that dueling teams cost money Shiloh didn't have and needed more students than Shiloh had on its roster. Nevertheless, Pervis had been quietly whispering in people's ears that Grant didn't have what it took to run Shiloh Dueling Academy anymore. The one thing Pervis' whispering had lacked thus far was someone to replace Grant with. And, judging by the conversation Grant was overhearing, he'd finally found someone.
"…a dueling tournament that Muggles can come to! What's next? Teaching the Muggles to duel, eh? If Shiloh does this, it's done, finished. It doesn't have to be like that Brady; I have enough influence with the parents to push Grant out and replace him with a real leader. A good wizard, someone our children can look up to, can learning dueling from, someone who can finally put together that dueling team Shiloh should have had years ago."
Brady wasn't answering, but he was nodding as Pervis spoke. Grant stalked towards the conversation, his anger growing. He and Brooke had poured their blood, sweat, and tears into Shiloh. After he'd been injured and lost a career he hadn't even finished the training for, they'd had precious little except each other and a dream. Every Knut they'd had went into the small, outdated, and shabby dueling hall that became their fresh start. And now Pervis wanted to take Shiloh away from him?
"What's it going to take, Brady?" Pervis demanded of the portly wizard, neither noticing Grant's seething descent. "How long before you come to your senses and realize that Grant Taylor is destroying our children's future? You can stop him, stop all of this!"
He stopped talking as Grant got between them, a deadly look in his eyes. But Grant didn't speak, just let his glare, set jaw, and rigid shoulders do the talking for him. And Pervis knew it; he was already twitching and fidgeting, nerves showing in his face as the man he'd been slandering stood there, glaring at him and not speaking. After several tense – long – seconds, Pervis scurried away, leaving Grant with Brady.
Grant turned, his glare switching to Brady. Brady swallowed and babbled, "He came to me, Grant. And you can't deny he's wrong; Muggles, Grant? What the heck? Have you forgotten what Muggles do to wizards?"
"Brady, I can't tell you what to think, but I'm going to say two things. One, you're not doin' anyone any favors by sittin' on the fence. Figure out which side you're on – and stay on it! And two, you're talkin' about the parents of hundreds of young wizards and witches – includin' me, by the way. Do you really think it's fair to stand here and judge us for wantin' to keep our families?"
Without waiting for a reply, Grant turned to go, then halted at the soft, uncertain question. "Is that why we've never met your parents? They're Muggles?"
Anger drained away; Grant felt his shoulders slump. Looking back, he replied, "I haven't seen my parents since the day Brooke and I got married, Brady. When I was in school, I couldn't invite them to events like most of my classmates could and they didn't understand why I couldn't. They thought I was rebelling, pushing them away and ignoring the values they'd taught me all my life. It's not unusual, Brady, even without magic, so that's what they thought. And they let me go."
"What? Why?" Confusion was etched on Brady's face; he could clearly see his boss's anguish, even years later. "Why would they just let you go?"
"Because," Grant replied simply, "They love me."
The next day, Brady had relegated himself to watching again, but he'd really watched – and listened. Listened to the enthusiasm of the kids as they set things up and sold tickets and organized the dueling brackets. Watched as the disparate groups that made up the Techie League came together, building a new – and long overdue – bridge between two worlds with their tournament. Grant, right in the thick of things, had left Brady alone, but J.T. hadn't. J.T. dragged Brady into the center of the action and put him to work. The day after that, Brady looked his boss in the eye and said two words, "I'm in."
And look at things now. Instead of a business straining and struggling to stay in the black, they were raking in a modest profit and looking to spruce up the hall. Instead of one, maybe two classes a week, they now had solid attendance at both of their weekday after-school classes and an adult class with spotty, but improving attendance. If things continued as they had, Grant was even planning to start looking into what it would take to have a dueling team. The Shiloh Eagles…that sounds like a good name.
In the front area, Brady was holding court with his class, lecturing them on the theory behind the two defensive spells he was teaching them. Brady was good at that, building a solid theory foundation before letting the students loose with a new spell. In the back area, J.T. was supervising an after-school study group, open to all years with the caveat that the only stupid question was the one that wasn't asked. Oh, there had been the usual wags, but J.T. had handled them with his usual unique mix of enthusiasm and minor retaliatory pranks.
Grant looked over at the front door, arching a brow at the loud bang that heralded the arrival of the Knight Bus. It was a familiar sound these days as the techie parents, driven by both concern and curiosity, descended in droves to watch the lessons. Two or three parents were even becoming regulars in the study group, helping J.T. maintain order and learning almost as much as the children. The wizard broke out into a smile as he spotted the Calvin siblings coming in with their uncle close behind them, then he frowned as he noticed Sergeant Parker was being very careful with his right arm.
It was official, he hated the Knight Bus…the next time he saw Auror Onasi, he was going to demand to know why the Knight Bus didn't have any safety precautions…like, say: seatbelts. In the meantime, he was going to ask Taylor where the closest gateway to the Academy was located, so he could call a member of his team to give them a ride home after the lesson.
"Sergeant Parker, it's nice to see you again." Speak of the devil.
"Mr. Taylor," Greg returned, shaking the man's hand firmly and ignoring the twinge from his shoulder. "Likewise. Mio nipotes wanted me to come with them today."
Taylor grinned at that, clapping Greg on his left shoulder. "Well then," he remarked, turning to the two eager teens. "Let's get started, shall we?"
It was only as Greg was following the three wizards that he realized: Taylor had gone out of his way to avoid Greg's injured shoulder…without being told. Greg idly rubbed his right shoulder as he trailed behind, thinking hard.
"Astrice."
"Gescildan," came the swift counter, though the striking spell still pushed Alanna back. Violet eyes narrowed as she held the shielding spell in place.
"Akwele," Lance snapped, following up with an immediate, "Petrificus Totalus (2)!" from the wand in his off-hand. The first curse, glowing green, smashed into Alanna's shield; the shield held for an instant, then flickered out of existence, spent. The white blaze of the body-bind curse sailed through thin air to strike the redhead; she yelped, then dropped.
"Cut," Grant called, stepping onto the dueling platform. He waved his wand at Alanna, releasing her from the curse and waited for her to push herself up. "Alanna, good job with your shield, but don't depend on it. Once it's down, it can't be recast fast enough to stop a spell that's already in the air. Even with the shield, you've got to remember to dodge."
"Yes, sir," Alanna agreed, pushing her ruffled hair out of her face.
Grant nodded, turning to a smirking Lance. "Good job catching Alanna off guard by mixing Old with Latin, but she'd have had you if you hadn't broken through her shield. You're confident, which is good, but you get cocky really fast, kid, and that's gonna be your downfall if you don't get it under control. Remember Lance…"
"I'm only a daredevil as long as I don't get hit, then I become an idiot who used to be a daredevil," Lance countered, though his smirk had long since dropped away.
"Close enough," Grant decided. If Lance wanted to put his own spin on Grant's oft-repeated warnings against showing off and being cocky, that was fine with Grant. He clapped his hands. "All right, take a quick jog around the arena to cool off, then you two are done for today."
Twin salutes, then the siblings took off while Grant headed over to the audience of one in the stands. "They're getting better," Sergeant Parker mused, watching the pair jog side-by-side.
"Yep," Grant agreed. "They started out in J.T.'s class, but then Lance lost his wand in a duel and threw an Astrice before J.T. could call the match. Caught pretty much everyone off guard, let me tell you."
"Did mio nipote get in trouble?" Sergeant Parker inquired, a slight edge to his tone that boded ill for said nephew.
"No and I'll tell you why," Grant replied, staying nonchalant. "J.T.'s philosophy is that our kids need to be ready for anything out there. As much as I hate it, if they go pro or, God forbid, trouble starts up again, it's not going to be the usual spells out there. Bending the rules on the dueling circuit happens more often than we like and real life has no rules. Lance didn't hurt anything except his opponent's pride and everyone learned a valuable lesson about assuming a match is over just 'cause your opponent lost his wand."
Sergeant Parker nodded thoughtfully. "And after that, they got separate lessons?"
"Had to," Grant admitted. "No one here, including me, knows this Old Magic stuff, but it's too valuable to ignore. At the same time, I can't expect my other students to spend time on magic they can't use, so now they work with me."
"Copy that," Sergeant Parker murmured thoughtfully; Grant eyed the officer curiously, but didn't ask. After a minute, Sergeant Parker nodded once to himself. "Sounds like mio nipotes are in good hands. But in the meantime…"
"Yes?" Grant asked nervously at the gleam in Sergeant Parker's eyes.
"Is there any way I can call a member of my team to come pick us up so we don't have to take the Knight Bus back?"
Grant blinked, looking between Sergeant Parker and the front of the dueling hall. Then the implications sunk in and he laughed. It really was true: no one liked the Knight Bus!
[1] One of the few methods of travel available to any wizard, whether underage, adult, or infirm. Unlike the Floo, it is not limited to locations with a working fireplace and therefore can be called in both magical and technological areas. Though effective, few riders enjoy the bus, with good reason.
[2] Latin for 'entirely petrify'