Chapter One: Return to the Barn

Author note: This story is the seventy-fifth in the Magical Flashpoint series. It follows "Knight Riders".

By circumstance, this story is also an important milestone, beyond marking seventy-five stories in the main "It's a Magical Flashpoint" storyline. As many of you know, my data hard drive crashed on September 3rd, 2020, taking three stories, notes, and many revisions on prior stories with it. It was almost four stories, but I'd given a copy of the fourth story to my father, so I was able to recover it. I spent two months hoping and praying that either of the two data recovery companies I sent the drive to would be able to recover my stories, but it was not to be.

As a result, it took me the remainder of 2020 to rebuild the three stories and my notes, including the notes for this story. But while the notes for this story had to be reconstructed, this story is the first story since "Knight Riders" to contain all original material. Even "Knight of the Phoenix" was partially rebuilt, although the latter chapters are all original.

So, on New Year's Day, 2021, I started writing the first of my three Lost Notes stories. There is a certain amount of divine irony that I had three totally Lost Stories (notes and story) and three Lost Note Stories (notes only). Also the twist of one story where my father saved the story, but I lost the notes and episode transcript (both since reconstructed). I may appreciate that irony someday, but I certainly didn't on New Year's of 2021.

Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own Flashpoint, Harry Potter, Narnia, or Merlin.

Full Blurb: As the first Old Dragon born in over a thousand years, Spyro is a breed apart, even from his own kind. Then a wandering Welsh Green decides the young dragon is her hatchling and, worse, Spike is an egg thief. To save his friend's life, Spyro must mix fire, magic, and a few aerial aerobatics as only an Old Dragon can. In the meantime, Spyro's real mother arrives on the scene – and she's not happy with her Dragonlord's choice of guardian.

The clearing tucked deep in the forest preserve was small. Just enough for people to gaze out over the river that ran through part of the reserve and enjoy the trees that lined its banks. In the center of the water, a concrete structure jutted up from the riverbed, forming a T-shape as it braced the riverbanks against possible erosion from floodwaters. Two half-circle metal fences on either end of the crossbar guarded against any foolish enough to use the concrete structure as a bridge. On one side of the riverbank, the ground was wild, packed with trees, grass, and fallen branches. The other side was stepped and covered with an odd netting until it reached the small grass clearing. Opposite of the lookout, a paved path ran through the preserve with a donor-sponsored bench sitting in a prime position for locals who needed a short rest before continuing their journeys.

A dark-haired man in a green shirt and jeans stood with his back to one of the trees surrounding the clearing, staring upwards. His hands were flat against the tree trunk and he pressed himself back into the bark, a harsh swallow bouncing the Adam's apple on his neck. Beside him, the handle of a retractable leash lay in the grass, set so his charge had free range, up to the limit of the cord hidden within the handle.

Right in front of him, his companion stood with limbs braced and head raised, glaring up at the huge creature crouched half in the riverbed, half on the bank. The creature growled, deep brown eyes glowing with rage. Its massive maw opened, displaying teeth as long as a man's hand and sharper than any knife, embedded in scaly jaws that formed a sleek, vaguely bullet-shaped snout. Two long horns swept back from the back of the creature's head, rising into the air as the long, sinewy neck curled.

"Please don't," a young voice cried, coming from the man's charge. "It's not what you think, honest."

"Not helping, lil buddy," the man put in, an octave higher than normal.

In front of them, the creature's snarl was joined by flames licking around its maw. Long bat-like wings extended, tan membranes setting off the dragon's green scales. Though the hind legs couldn't been seen, the front paws curled, talons digging into the soft turf of the clearing.

'Anytime now, guys.'

In another part of the forest, a group of men and one woman raced along the pavement. The two in front were dressed in robes and held their wands at the ready, the better to guard the non-magicals behind them. Though the man right behind the wizards was dressed in an SRU uniform, bronze maple leaves on both shoulders, the rest of the group wore shirts and jeans. All of them had their sidearms drawn, though what good bullets would do against a dragon was anyone's guess.

"Turn left up there," the tan-skinned officer called. "Spike likes the scenery down that way."

"You sure?" one of the wizards called back.

"He always goes that way!"

'Spike, we're coming. Just hold on.'

'Any ideas on how I do that?' the raven snarked. 'Not like I can toss a stick and hope it goes fetch.'

At his feet, another dragon's wings flared. Orange membranes banded with Spyro's yellow-gold radius and wing digits spread wide as the golden acorn tipped tail arched skyward. "You're not my mother," he hissed, baring small fangs. "I don't even look like you, lady!"

"Spyro, no antagonizing the big dragon with mega-hot flames, 'k?" Spike pleaded as the flames wreathing the dragon's snout grew larger, beginning to turn white with the heat imbued in them.

"She thinks I'm hers," Spyro exclaimed over his shoulder before turning back to their opponent. "And stop calling my Dragonlord an egg thief! He didn't steal your stupid eggs!"

"Spyro, shut up!"

The green dragon roared and Spike cringed from the inevitable. As flames washed downwards, another roar shattered the air. He looked up, catching a glimpse of white in the sky before fire impacted.

9 hours earlier

Spyro bounced from paw to paw, tail lashing and wings flexing as he gazed up at his Dragonlord. A tiny whine escaped before he clamped his muzzle shut, though wide pleading eyes spoke volumes. His Dragonlord grimaced, keeping his eyes away from the dragon and on Mamá Scarlatti.

"Mamá, why didn't you tell me earlier?"

The Italian matron had the grace to look mildly apologetic, but offered a Gallic shrug. "Dear Paolina was to tell you, Mikey."

Dragonlord Spike groaned, dropping his head into his hands briefly. "Mamá, Paolina's still mad at me over Papá's funeral!"

Spyro growled, but settled when Dragonlord Spike pointed at him without glancing down. He hadn't met his Dragonlord's sisters or their children, something he'd been irked about, but Sparx insisted he not press the issue. Sparx was smart like that. Sometimes. Maybe.

"Mamá, what about Spyro? He can't go with you, not to Paolina's house, and I can't just up and take him to the barn."

The baby dragon wilted, venturing a hesitant, "Aunt Sophie or Aunt Shelley?"

Dark eyes flicked down at that, his Dragonlord's shoulders slumping. "Not on short notice," he admitted. "And Lou broke up with Lisa last week."

Mamá Scarlatti let out an exclamation, hands rising to her face. "Santo cielo, sicuramente no! (1)"

Dragonlord Spike's shoulders slumped even more, a sigh escaping. "He had to, Mamá. We went out for drinks and he told me why." His mother leaned forward, concern and interest warring as she rested a hand on her son's arm. He shook his head. "No, Mamá, I'm not telling. Just…" He hesitated, then his jaw firmed. "If he'd compromised, he wouldn't be Lou anymore."

Spyro whined at the subdued tone and leaned forward to rest his head against Dragonlord Spike's other arm. His Dragonlord flashed a smile, but kept his attention on Mamá Scarlatti.

The Italian matron considered a moment, then nodded acceptance of her son's refusal to gossip. Stroking his arm, she said, "Mikey, I have been so looking forward to time with Paolina and my dear grandchildren."

At the wheedling, expectant note in her voice, Dragonlord Spike gazed up at the ceiling, heaving another sigh. "Alright, Mamá, I get it! I'll call Sarge and ask if Spyro can come with me today."

The baby dragon bounced, letting his magic flare enough to summon Sparx. The golden dragonfly popped into existence and fluttered down to hover right next to his master. "Spyro?"

'We're going to the barn, buddy! Finally!'

'Not yet, you're not,' Spike chided. 'I still have to ask Sarge.'

Spyro grinned a fangy dragon grin. He knew Dragonlord Sarge and Dragonlord Sarge would never say 'no' to helping Spike. Not when it came to keeping Mamá Scarlatti happy. He was so going to the barn!

Commander Holleran was waiting for them when they arrived and Spyro felt his wings slump down at the stern expression on the human's face. Was he gonna get kicked out again, without even a chance? That wasn't fair; hadn't Dragonlord Sarge already gotten permission for him to come?

Besides, this wasn't even his first time back in the barn – right after Dragonlord Sarge made up with his other Dragonlords, the Knights of the Round Table had started fighting with each other 'cause Sir Mordred remembered his past. So Dragonlord Sarge recruited him, Team One's two Auror-Detectives, and their living car to help convince the Knights to give Sir Mordred a second chance. He'd been very good and hadn't put so much as a claw out of line, so how come Commander Holleran was glaring at him like that?

The tall pepper-haired human flicked a glance down at the hatchling before returning his attention to Dragonlord Spike. "Lieutenant Parker apprised me of the circumstances."

Dragonlord Spike grimaced. "Mí Mamá didn't tell me she was going over to my sister's house today," he explained. "Thank you for the exception, sir."

Holleran grunted. "Thank your lieutenant, Constable Scarlatti. He offered to do half my paperwork this week if I'd agree to young Spyro's presence."

Spyro wilted, cringing down as his tail curled around. Dragonlord Sarge had had to bribe his boss? He'd known Dragonlord Sarge wouldn't let Dragonlord Spike down, but to volunteer for more work? For a whole week?

Above him, Dragonlord Spike cringed too. "Yes, sir."

Rather than respond, the commander looked down at the young dragon, frowning. "If you behave, I will decline Lieutenant Parker's offer."

"Yes, sir," Spyro acknowledged, curling in on himself a bit more. "I won't cause any trouble, promise." He would be as good as gold and quiet as a church mouse, even if he had to stay in Dragonlord Sarge's office all day.

Behind the wire rims of his glasses, Holleran's dark eyes narrowed further before he shook his head and relaxed a hair. "Lieutenant Parker has also arranged for the two of you to use the larger training building at lunchtime."

Though Spyro remained curled, his wings perked ever so slightly. "Thank you, sir."

A tiny smile softened the stern set to the tall man's jaw. "Given your age, I can hardly expect you to remain in one location for Constable Scarlatti's entire shift."

The young dragon's wings twitched higher as he understood. He'd already been banished from the barn, the ultimate punishment. There weren't any other punishment 'cards' Commander Holleran could pull on him, so the commander was threatening to punish Dragonlord Sarge in Spyro's place if he misbehaved. And, in a way, he was threatening to punish Dragonlord Spike, too, because he'd have to watch Dragonlord Sarge struggle through a week of extra paperwork if Spyro was bad.

To himself, Spike prayed Spyro would behave. The little dragon had made all the right moves so far, promising to be good and quiet and not get himself in mischief, but he was still a baby. A rambunctious baby capable of gliding, charging, flaming, and a whole bunch of other tricks he'd learned from the Chronicler and Avalar's Dragon Elders. Spyro didn't do quiet, not unless he was sleeping.

Keeping his doubts to himself, Spike headed for Sarge's office, the purple dragon trotting at his heels. Although the little dragon was still small enough to be carried, he'd gotten large enough – and heavy enough – that the constable preferred him to let him walk outside of an emergency or a spot too high for Spyro to reach on his own. Besides, he was carrying the dragon's lunch – and thanking the wizarding world all over again for Extension Charms because otherwise he never could've walked into the SRU with enough meat to keep Spyro happy. Even better, Revan had given him an address for a shop in Toronto's magical district that could do custom work. Spike had walked in hoping to buy a lunch-sized box that could just hold Spyro's meals and walked out with a bag enchanted with both an Extension Charm and a Freezing Charm.

Grinning to himself at the memory of the first time he'd shown the bag to Spyro, Spike halted in front of Sarge's office door and knocked. At the call to 'Enter', he pushed the door open and sidled inside. The half-bald man behind the desk looked up from his computer, a broad smile appearing at the sight of his constable.

Spike arched a pointed brow. "You volunteered for a week of extra paperwork?"

The stocky man shook his head. "Spike, it's fine. I just won't be able to come on any hot calls until next week, all right?"

"You shoulda told me! I coulda found something that didn't include mounds of paperwork for you, Boss!"

"I'll be good," Spyro objected, drawing both sets of eyes to him. "Commander Holleran said he wasn't gonna do it if I was good." Orange wings flared. "How come you won't give me a chance?"

Sarge's jaw twitched and he cast a half-amused, half-chiding glance at his constable. "You heard him, Spike. Let's see how today goes before you assume I'm in for a world of paperwork."

The bomb tech eyed his boss narrowly for a few seconds, long enough to crouch down and slip the dragon's lunch into the office's tiny refrigerator, then stood and threw up his hands. "Fine, whatever, your paperwork funeral. I'll come pick him up after my shift." He turned away, then shifted back, guilt twisting. "Thanks, Sarge."

The older man chuckled and shooed him out. "Anytime, Spike."

Clad in his uniform, Ed rapped on his lieutenant's door, a hint of hope and expectation on his face. It took a few seconds before Greg called out permission to enter and Ed's heart dropped a hair at the distraction in his friend's voice. Swallowing a sigh, he strode into the office and halted, blinking at the towering pile of paperwork in Parker's inbox. His gaze flicked to the open computer on the desk and the other man nodded.

"Sorry, Eddie, I'm slammed today and I've got a guest."

The Sergeant was about to ask when the 'team sense' vibrated in the way it always did when Team One's dragon was nearby. Blue eyes narrowed. "Greg."

"Spike's mother didn't give him a heads up till this morning."

Ed winced. Shelley and Sophie were generally good sports about pitching in, but they'd demanded at least a day or so of notice if Spike needed them to babysit. "And Lisa's not an option."

"Not anymore," the lieutenant agreed, a touch rueful. "Has Lou told you why?"

The sniper grimaced. "Only Spike. Roy told me he asked and Lou told him to mind his own business."

Greg tilted his head, thoughtful, then shrugged. "Ed, one day is fine. Commander Holleran gave me permission to keep Spyro in my office for your shift."

"I said I'd be good." The sulky voice rose from the far corner of the office, along with a soft thump that sounded like Spyro's tail had smacked the wall. "How come nobody believes me?"

Parker sighed and turned towards the dragon. "Spyro, Eddie didn't know. You've been very good so far."

For all of thirty minutes, but Ed wasn't going to say it. Instead he moved so he could see Spyro curled up on the dog-sized bed behind his friend's desk. Purple eyes rose to meet his, the little dragon's muzzle curled downwards in unhappiness. "You keep right at it, little guy, and I'll be in here with Spike after shift to apologize for doubting you."

Small wings flexed a hair. "Promise?"

A sharp nod. "My word on it."

The hatchling managed to bounce in place, his dragonfly appearing out of a spurt of golden mist. Sparx buzzed away from his master and returned with one of the Silenced chew-toys Greg had gotten from Commander Holleran back when the dragon had been a regular visitor. Spyro snatched it away and curled around it, gnawing on the rubber with a put-upon sigh that echoed in the 'team sense'.

The men traded wry glances and Ed thought better of telling his lieutenant what he'd planned for the shift. Best not to tempt the rascal listening in. Instead he said, "Good luck with the paperwork, Boss."

"Thanks, Ed. Have a good shift."

"Copy." With that, the Sergeant left the office, pushing the door closed behind him before he strode towards the dispatcher desk. As he approached, a blonde head looked up from the computer in front of her. "Morning, Kira."

"Morning, Boss," she replied. "He say yes?"

Ed shook his head. "Slammed with paperwork, plus his Holleran-approved guest."

Kira's eyes widened, but she offered a brisk nod. "Still on for a patrol today?"

The tall sniper leaned against the desk. "We sure are. Last week was way too quiet; team's gettin' antsy."

The dispatcher grinned, a twinkle in blue orbs. "You mean you're getting antsy."

The Sergeant smirked, not denying it. "Up close and personal Team One PR, Kira. Can't beat it."

She giggled. "Copy that, Boss."

He smacked the countertop and headed for the briefing room, adopting an impassive mask as he moved. Not that he'd fool his teammates, but still. He had a reputation to maintain. Breezing in, he scanned his constables, inwardly nodding approval at the sight of Sam and Spike bracketing Lou.

Aside from Spike – who wasn't talking – no one on the team knew why Lou had broken up with his girlfriend Lisa the weekend before. None of them had asked, either, respecting their teammate's desire to keep the details to himself, but it was impossible to miss how downcast Lou was in the wake of the breakup. That jived with Ed's instinct that Lou hadn't wanted the relationship to end, even though he'd been the one to end it.

On the opposite side of the briefing table, Wordy was standing next to Jules' chair, a cup of coffee in hand and a thoughtful expression on his face. Nothing team-related, Ed knew – he'd been the one to get a frantic phone call over the weekend from little Lilly Wordsworth when the family dishwasher gave up the ghost in a rather spectacular explosion of parts and water in the middle of its wash cycle. What the little girl thought Ed could do to help was beyond the Sergeant, but even as he complained to both Wordy and Sophie, he was secretly touched that the little girl had called him.

Coming to a halt in front of his team, Ed raised his voice. "All right, Team One, we are patrolling today." A grin emerged at their cheers.

"Sarge coming?" Jules asked hopefully, missing the flash of guilt on Spike's face.

"Maybe next time; he's snowed under today," Ed replied without mentioning the little dragon. No need to embarrass Spike any more than he already was. Moving on, he fixed his gaze on Lou. "First pick for the patrol routes."

Lou flashed a limp grin in return, but didn't reply. Leaning in, Spike suggested, "West end? We can go to Island Foods."

It took another painful moment, but Lou nodded acceptance. For his part, Ed tipped his head towards Spike in approval. The bomb tech usually jumped right on the club patrol, but a bunch of tube tops trying to walk out on their bills wasn't what Lou needed right now.

"You got it." Shifting, he asked, "Jules, Sam?"

The couple blinked at each other, but Jules rose to the challenge admirably. "We'll take the east end, Boss."

Biting back a grimace, Ed sucked in a breath and turned towards his team leader. "I guess that means we got the club scene, Word."

"Sure thing, Boss," Wordy agreed.

Stepping back, the Sergeant surveyed his whole team one last time. "Okay, I want the trucks rolling in five! Keep in touch and we'll rotate lunch breaks."

"Copy," his constables chorused.

An impish grin curled his jaw. "Let's keep the peace."

[1] Goodness, gracious, surely not!