Chapter One: Ignition
Author note: This story is the fifty-sixth in the Magical Flashpoint series. It follows "Soul of a Gryphon".
Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own Flashpoint, Harry Potter, Narnia, or Merlin.
Fire exploded near the front of a room, drawing screams from the young occupants. The one older occupant lifted her weapon, trembling as she braced herself to protect her charges. A phoenix appeared out of the fire, three children clinging to the bird's tail feathers. Paling, the woman hurried to the quartet, already shepherding the little ones to safety.
The girl refused to be pulled away from her rescuer until the beautiful violet phoenix turned her head and trilled encouragement.
"Come on, Claire," the one of the boys cried. "Get away from it." He made a face. "I thought it would take us to my brothers, not some random classroom."
Claire's head whipped around, a scowl appearing. "She's protecting us."
All heads turned towards the door, new screams of fear rising. "It's them," one of the girls wailed.
The phoenix hissed, crest rising as she fluttered, glaring balefully at the door.
Outside, a male voice yelled a curse; the door collapsed, falling back into the room with a thud. Two teenagers entered, vicious smiles glowing as they surveyed their latest targets. The blond raised his wand.
Piping challenge, the phoenix flew between the wizards and the children. As the other wizard hurled a curse, she blurred; sneakers thumped as their owner brought both hands up, shouting a spell of her own.
Violet magic blazed, forming a shield between the wizards and the room full of school children.
2 hours earlier
The two wizards appeared much like any wizards their own age. Young, eager; students learning one of the most unique crafts in the world. And despite their Muggle heritage, the pair had quickly outpaced most of their pureblood classmates, earning top honors for several years running. They had even been at the forefront of promoting the Techie Tournament, excited about the opportunity to finally show their parents what they'd been learning.
It hadn't worked out; Rick's parents had flatly refused to go to the tournament, accusing their son of trying to brainwash them. Though the young brunet had known his parents were far from happy about his magic, he hadn't realized they thought he was evil. Hadn't realized they regarded themselves as well shot of him and his unnatural abilities. And Kyle's father had promised to show up, then buried himself in a bottle the day of the competition; the heartbroken son had found his father in his favorite bar afterwards, so drunk that he'd fallen asleep as soon as the blond got him home.
Even then, the friends had been determined to keep going, to prove to both worlds that they were worth it. To prove to their families that they were worthwhile. To prove to the magicals that Muggleborns were just as valuable as purebloods. Worthy of respect, regard, and honor. They'd thrown themselves into Shiloh, learning, studying, and honing their abilities, striving to excel and prove their value.
But nothing changed; the purebloods still sneered, the half-bloods still eyed them warily, some on the Muggleborns' side and most on the purebloods' side, and their fellow Muggleborns seemed content with the status quo. Content with being relegated to Shiloh.
No laws changed – the school still wouldn't let Muggles come and visit. The quiet discrimination against Muggleborns continued. Shiloh was attacked, nearly destroyed, and still nothing changed. No one cared, no one noticed them; not their classmates, not the school, and certainly not their parents.
Then Lance and Alanna Calvin were kicked out of school.
Kyle read the newspaper articles aloud as Rick paced and seethed. Wild Magic, ha, what a scam! As if; since when did the wizards care if some of their own had magic? No, no, no…both boys knew the truth; the Calvins had been targeted because they'd stepped out of line. Expelled because they'd tried to change things – because they'd tried to help Muggleborns.
No one else saw it; whispers, rumors, and stories swept the school, the purebloods peddling an utterly absurd fairy tale about some British wannabe Dark Lord who'd caused a ruckus over a thousand years ago. Seriously, get over it. Furious, the two wizards lobbied their teachers, trying to bring back the only two purebloods who had actually tried to make a difference. In short order, the pair found themselves ostracized, considered outcasts even by their fellow Muggleborns. Even by those who still went to Shiloh. The cowards.
Growing ever more infuriated, Kyle and Rick dropped out of Shiloh and started planning. No one was doing anything to make things change. No one was showing the purebloods just how wrong they were. No one was even trying any more. Sure, great, wonderful, they had Shiloh – but what about the school? What about real life? Were they supposed to just curl up and accept poverty level because of who their parents were? Accept all the rampant prejudice, the sneering, the putdowns, and the distinct message that they'd never amount to anything, so they might as well give up now.
Not a chance. It was time the purebloods got a taste of their own medicine – Muggle style.
Kyle and Rick traded glances as they approached the outdoor class, one last check. Both wizards had their wands out, though the weapons were down – the better to keep any one from realizing what was about to happen.
Rick's face twisted into a snarl. "Born ready."
The teacher glanced up from his lesson, faltering at the sight of two students who weren't in his class. "Boys?" he asked. "Something I can help you with?"
Kyle smiled pleasantly – and brought his wand up. The silent curse sent the wizard flying, eyes going blank even before he hit the ground. The fourth years screamed.
Rick laughed, whipping sideways to send more curses at the purebloods. Kyle joined him after conjuring a barrier to keep their targets from running. One boy fought back, engaging Rick in an impromptu duel as he pushed two girls behind him. Laughing louder, Rick flourished his wand, then brought it across, Cutting Curses flying, four in a row. Two caught his target and the other two hit the fleeing girls.
Kyle casually finished off one last half-blood, then turned to his friend, ignoring the bloody, broken bodies around them. Past the scene, in the paddock, an ebony hippogriff whined, reaching over the fence with its beak for the dead teacher. "That's one."
The other boy's brown eyes narrowed, hate flashing. "And a whole mess to go."
"Guess we'd better get started."