Chapter One: Grief Which Does Not Speak
Author note: This story is part of the Magical Flashpoint Side Story series. This story comes before "At the Intersection of Magic and Technology". It also comes after "What the Wise Man Saw", my first pre-series Side-Story, as well as "Happy Halloween", "Happy Birthday, Jesus", "Trick Or Treat", and "Angels From the Realms of Glory".
This has been a rough year. A rough couple of years. Life as we knew it back in 2019 has long since been overturned, with no chance of getting it back. This story is for everyone who has lost loved ones. For anyone who has lost their jobs, businesses, and livelihoods. For the sorrowing hearts who despise a cheerful song because that cheerfulness seems to mock everything they've gone through.
I pray that your grief can indeed speak, even if only through this story, and that the Lord can begin a healing work in your souls.
Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own Flashpoint, Harry Potter, Narnia, or Merlin.
Artorius found 'Toria in their dining room, cleaning the fine crystal with a soft rag. Nearby, a house-elf in a Calvin Family toga was wringing his ears, eyes wide and horrified that a master was doing housework. Pausing by the elf, Artorius dismissed him back to his other duties. Ordinarily, Victoria understood the emotions that drove the house-elves and allowed them to handle all the housework, but not now. Not today of all days.
As he stepped up behind her, she said, "Thank you, Arthur."
He waited for her to finish with the glass before turning her around to kiss her. "My pleasure, dear," he murmured.
"We're ready for this evening," she murmured back, hugging him fiercely. For a long moment, they simply rested their foreheads together, enjoying each other's company.
Gently disentangling himself, Artorius said, "Silnok sent an owl. He needs to meet."
"What about?"
"An urgent, time sensitive matter," Artorius replied. "He knows what today means for us, though, so…"
"Go," Victoria said. "The sooner you go, the sooner you can come back."
With a wry smile, Artorius hugged his wife one last time and departed. She was quite right. It would not do to miss their traditional Samhaine memorial, after all.
Behind his desk, Silnok looked vaguely apologetic. Artorius made sure to give the goblin a reassuring smile as he sat down. True, goblins were typically quite blunt and confrontational, but that didn't mean they couldn't recognize courtesy. Or the lack thereof.
"Lord Calvin," Silnok intoned, folding his long fingers together. "I apologize for disturbing your annual Halloween memorial tradition."
"You said it was urgent?" Artorius asked.
Rather than respond, Silnok pushed a newspaper article across the desk. Artorius picked it up and shook his head at the headline – Spree Ends in Tragedy. Reading through the article, Artorius was dismayed to discover that his cousin, Greg Parker, and his team had been involved in a spree shooting by a young Muggle teenager. Several children had perished, including the shooter. Worse, a member of his cousin's team had also perished and the article did not include the dead man's name.
"Is he alive?"
"Yes," Silnok replied. "The spree shooting happened last week, Lord Calvin. If your cousin had perished, I would have reached out to you immediately."
Artorius laid down the article, frowning. "Then why now?"
The goblin hesitated for a moment, uncertainty flashing across his face. His fingers, still folded together, clenched ever so slightly. "Your cousin has been troubled ever since the shooting. By day, he reassures his team and leads them as confidently as ever. But by night, he has been visiting a bar."
A chill ran up Artorius's back. "He's drinking again."
"No," Silnok said, shaking his head. "He has yet to actually drink any alcohol, though he is certainly ordering it."
Artorius blinked. "Beg pardon?"
One long finger rose. "Your cousin has been visiting a bar, ordering one serving of alcohol, and then spends the rest of the night staring at that serving."
Artorius's eyes narrowed. "You have people following him."
"Yes," Silnok confirmed. "In addition to losing a member of his team, one of the victims was your son's age."
Artorius's eyes slid closed in grief. Of course – and if he recalled correctly, his cousin also had a son about Lancelot's age. Opening his eyes again, Artorius scanned the article again, searching for details he'd missed in his first read-through.
Written by the Toronto Sun, concerning a spree shooting. Four victims dead before his cousin's team could even arrive – the journalist was most scathing on that point, arguing that Toronto's vaunted Strategic Response Unit should have arrived as soon as the shooting started. Wasn't that what the city paid them for? He shook his head – did this fool of a journalist expect his cousin's team to arrive by magic? Without Apparition, his cousin was limited to purely Muggle transportation methods. Such things would never allow an instantaneous arrival, no matter how willing the Muggles might be.
No credit was given to his cousin's team that they'd stopped the spree within ten minutes of arrival or that they'd saved the shooter's last victim – quite literally shooting the shooter off that victim, though they'd lost one of their own in that maneuver. Nor was any credit given for the fact that his cousin's lead negotiator had stalled the shooter long enough for the final victim to be saved. No, instead the so-called journalist railed against the failures of his cousin's team, viciously denouncing them for failing to save all the victims. It was a wonder the Muggle wasn't accusing them of murdering the shooter, too.
Lifting his head, Artorius met Silnok's gaze. "This…journalist?"
The goblin smirked viciously. "Will very shortly discover that there are any number of ways to, as the Muggles say, tar and feather someone."
Artorius nodded. "I should like to see the results."
In his seat, Silnok bowed. "Of course, Lord Calvin." A pause. "And your cousin?"
"Leave him to me," Artorius replied, rising to his feet. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Silnok."
The goblin inclined his head, a tiny smile quirking the corners of his mouth as the pureblood lord swept out.
'Toria's arms crossed as soon as she saw his face. "What is it?"
He strode right up to her, guiding her away from their curious, avidly listening offspring. Once they were in a quieter area, he showed her the article. She read it through, gasping. When she was done, she murmured, "Your cousin?"
"He hasn't relapsed, but he's not far off, either," Artorius said, turning away and running a hand through his hair. " 'Toria, I'm sorry, but…"
"But nothing," she interrupted. "We're coming with you."
Startled, he swung back to her.
Her hand rose, fingers touching his mouth to keep him quiet. "This is your cousin, Artorius," she said firmly. "If we stand by and do nothing, that is as much on us as him."
Especially on this day of all days. Artorius nodded slowly, a rueful smile appearing. "What would I do without you, 'Toria?"
"Fortunately, you need never find out," she said tartly. "I'll get the children."
As his wife swept out, Artorius smiled for the first time in over an hour.