Avengers of Harmony

Ingar sighed hopelessly, and then squared his shoulders and marched into Twilight's library for his next lesson.

"Hi, Ingar," Twilight said, waving cheerfully. "Ready for something a little different?"

"I am ready for anything," he replied, then wilted, just a little. "...that would make a difference."

Twilight smiled sympathetically. "Before we begin," she said, "I wanted to give you a heads-up about some changes we’re going to make to the lesson plan. The first week went well--"

“Well?” he burst out, unable to stop himself. “I couldn’t muster a shred of magic!”

“-for most of the students,” Twilight finished. “And since this is supposed to be a team, we didn’t think having you all learn separately was a good idea.” With a not unkind smile and wink, she added, “You might forget you weren’t the only student, or something!”

Ingar blushed and looked down. Twilight continued.

“But a lot of what you were learning would be boring for the other students to see. They don’t need to watch you practice magic endlessly, just like you wouldn’t need to see Yona learn to carve wood. We—the teachers—went back and forth for a while with different ideas, but eventually we decided to have two classes, one as individuals and one as a team, so you can hone your skills by yourselves and learn to work together.”

He nodded. “That sounds excellent.” Besides, if they were training as a group, they’d bond as a team, all seven of them together. Maybe it would make them forget about Buckball and whatever else they used to do without him, things that the six of them could do, but didn’t know how to include him. Maybe a time when they’d all be together without an established routine, one set before he’d come along, was exactly what they needed.

“If that’s the case,” Twilight continued, oblivious to his thoughts, “then the team class is in just a few days. If it’s at all possible, we want you to be using magic by then.”

As if. “But nothing we tried last week worked!”

She nodded. “I know. But there’s one more option.” Almost on autopilot, she lifted a piece of chalk in her aura and began sketching on the blackboard behind her as she talked. “For foals who are really struggling with their magic, when neither practice nor theory will help them, teachers have a special method, but it’s rare to actually see it used.” A vague outline of a filly took shape on the board. “The teacher will take some of their own magic, and push it—gently, of course—into the foal’s body. It spreads out, filling the magic pathways in the foal’s body and highlighting them.” The chalk splintered into tiny pieces and traced out an intricate series of lines spreading throughout the filly’s shape. “It helps the foal understand what the flow of magic feels like, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a case where they couldn’t imitate it once they had that picture.” A sheer wave of magic washed over the drawing, erasing it.

Ingar sighed with relief. “That sounds like a good solution.”

“Of course,” Twilight added, “if it doesn’t work, that means our types of magic are just incompatible, and I can’t help you.”

“Does that mean… I wouldn’t be part of the team?”

“What?” Twilight’s eyes widened. “Of course not! I’d have to find something else I can teach you, but I’ve heard the Aesir all have unparalleled strength, don’t you? I’m sure I can find a way to coach you in fighting with it, though I’d have to do some research on that. But it’s a little too early to be deciding on all that, right? For now, we have one more option with magic.”

“Yes, let’s begin.” Ingar braced himself. “I’m ready.”

Twilight’s horn glowed, not with an aura of pink surrounding it, but with a thin line of white that traced upwards through its spiraling grooves. Holding it, she trotted over to Ingar and leaned forward, rearing up slightly to get high enough.

Her horn touched his chest.

In a flash, he felt the light piercing through him like golden lightning, illuminating pathways. Intricate lines spread through his body from head to toe, through his fingers, down his legs, all centering in a swirl of energy around his heart.

And then he was the swirl of energy, and the energy was his heart, and magic was all there was, the glorious light that filled his body with a warm tingle. The library seemed to fade and go out of focus. He couldn’t tell for sure, because the world outside seemed so disconnected and unimportant, but he didn’t think his feet were touching the floor. He felt like he could do anything, level mountains and crush forests, maybe even make a friend.

“Ingar!”

The voice wasn’t important. Only the magic was important. The magic that was finally his. The magic his teacher had given him.

“Ingar!”

His teacher…

He shook his head rapidly, and the world came into focus again. He felt his feet touch the floor. His head twinged, not a true ache but hardly pleasant. “What happened?”

Headmare Twilight looked uncharacteristically serious. “Magic overload. I gave you too much, and it totally overwhelmed you! You could’ve drifted off in the high it gave you. There are documented cases of ponies with magic overload who tried to spread the magic in their core over their whole bodies and set themselves on fire with it." She took a deep breath, then added gingerly, "Observers say the last thing they saw before the magic consumed them utterly was a smile.”

Ingar stumbled backwards in horror. “I- I could’ve-”

“And it’s all my fault!” Twilight wailed. “I was thinking like I was just normal, an ordinary pony with an ordinary amount of power to give. But not only am I an alicorn, I’ve finally reached my full power! How could I not have thought of this?” She took a deep, harsh breath, let it out just as hard, and took another. Hyperventilating, Ingar realized. She was hyperventilating.

It felt strange with a teacher, but he gently stroked a hand down her head, through her mane. Physical touch, his lessons had said, was a good way to comfort. “Breathe,” he reminded her. “It’s okay. Nothing bad happened.”

“But something could’ve!” she cried. “I could’ve killed one of my own students! It’s unforgiveable!”

“Headmare, you always tell us nothing is unforgiveable! Least of all a mistake. Counceller Starlight…” He fumbled, realizing he couldn’t remember exactly what she’d done. He’d missed that lesson, and despite his friends’ best efforts, he still wasn’t completely up to speed. “Counceller Starlight was really bad, but you forgave her! Wasn’t what she did worse?”

Twilight heaved a hysterical sob. “She did some bad stuff, but you students are my responsibility! My job is to take care of you, not put you in danger!”

“We’re training to be heroes!” Ingar argued, increasingly feeling the absurdity of the situation. Him, trying to comfort the headmare of the whole school? “We’re going to be in danger eventually. For all you know, I’ll need that experience someday!” It was utter nonsense, but it seemed to help Headmare Twilight.

She sat up a little straighter and sniffled.

“You’re right. Some of my worst experiences while I was still learning were some of the ones I most needed later.” She managed a weak smile. “Thank you, Ingar. But I promise, I’ll never be so careless again. Until you and your team are actually ready, I’ll make sure-”

A loud chime emanated from her horn, and she nearly went cross-eyed trying to look at it.

“What was that?” Ingar asked.

“Doorbell charm,” she answered absently, already beginning to trot though the room. Ingar followed her to hear the rest of the explanation. “Notifies the caster of a disturbance to an area. It means either one of my friends has arrived through unusual methods, or I have a break-in in a restricted area of the castle. Hopefully the former, in which case someone should be right about…” She turned a corner, revealing a small area clear of bookshelves, in which two tall mirrors stood near each other. “…here!”

“Hey, Twilight!” a young pegasus stallion called out, waving from just in front of one of the mirrors. His mane and tail were blue, and his coat yellow. “Figured I should stop waiting for you to visit again and just come over myself!”

Ingar glanced at Twilight, only to notice the second unexpected emotion in his headmare in just a few minutes. Her cheeks were brilliant pink, and she was flustered and sputtering. “Flash?” she choked out.

“It’s about my turn, I’d say.” He winked, and she flushed even brighter. “And who’s this?”

“Oh!” Twilight turned to Ingar. “This is one of my students!” she announced, with evident pride. “Flash, meet Ingar! Ingar, this is Flash.”

“Nice to meet you!” Ingar said, searching for an excuse to leave. It was clear something was going on between the two of them, and he felt more and more like an intruder with each passing moment. “Uh… I’ll just let you two catch up, then?” Without waiting for a response, he turned and left as fast as he could without looking like he was running. Headmare Twilight’s giggles chased him all the way out of the room.

He leaned against the wall outside of the library and stretched out his fingers. He could feel the magic moving through the pathways Twilight had opened for him, and a tiny ball of light appeared in his hand, the very thing she’d been trying to coax out of him all of last week.

“Besides,” he whispered to himself, “the most important part of the lesson was already a success."