Warning(s): Character death.
Disclaimer: JKR owns. I only play. You do not sue.
Length: 680 words
Summary: Voldemort's giants come to collect payment for their services in the war.
Note: Originally written for a contest at hogsmeade_elite; the prompt was to write a fic set in a world where Voldemort won and Harry Potter was dead.
Concrit: Always welcome and appreciated.
The sound of their thundering footfalls was all too familiar and unwelcome.
They were approaching from the north, and the forest groaned under their onslaught. Clouds of birds went up into the air, twittering in confusion as their homes were obliterated; some trees in this forest were over a thousand years old, but none of them mattered.
Voldemort's giants had come to collect payment for their services in the war.
They were tearing through the Forbidden Forest towards the village of Hogsmeade, exchanging shouts in their guttural language. Now and again, some of them would pause and look around, squinting, their nostrils flaring -- like a boarhound on a trail.
Hagger had a boarhound, thought Grawp sadly. Hagger had a nice house next to the little people's skool where they learned to wave their funny magic sticks. Hagger showed him that the sticks could not hurt Grawp. He was moon to magic, Hagger used to say. Well, he would not be moon to the giants' great hammers and their hulking fists, and there was no one to protect him anymore.
Grawp had watched the killing of Harry, Hermy and Ron. He had held Hagger by the scruff of his neck to keep him from running to help them. The strange white man with the black magic stick and the voice of a snake would kill Hagger, and where would Grawp be then? Hagger had cried afterwards, and hugged Grawp tight. Grawp had cried too -- he did not like seeing Hagger so sad.
"War's over," Hagrid had said on that day, but he had not seemed happy. Grawp did not understand why -- war was a bad thing, and if it was over, then a bad thing was over. He didn't think he would ever understand the little people. They stood everything on its head -- war was bad, magic sticks were good. It was not what Grawp had learned growing up, but he loved Hagger and wanted to make Hagger happy. So he tried to understand.
Hagger took good care of Grawp. He showed him all the roads in the forest and told him not to kill the trees. He made him bow to the horsemen so they would not throw those nasty needles at Grawp anymore. Life was much easier without the needles. Grawp stared at the horsemen lined up on the other side of the clearing. Did they really think they could protect their forest from giants? Grawp would try to help them, but he knew it would be a waste. There were too many of the giants, and they were too big. The horsemen and Grawp were too few and too small. They would all die here today.
Grawp was not afraid of dying. After death, giants went to the Great Southern Mountain, where they could live in any caves they wanted, and eat as much as they could. Death would be welcome after this forest with nothing but trees for food. Hagger had been the only thing that kept Grawp here, but Hagger was dead. After Grawp had fallen asleep on the day of Harry's death, Hagger went to the skool and tried to kill the white snake man. He never came back.
There was a great crash, and a giant's foot trampled two of the horsemen to death. Golgomath, the Gurg Himself, had come. The other horsemen began shouting and throwing their needles, but there were four more giants approaching, attracted by the noise. Grawp stood firm and hefted his club into the air. Golgomath pointed at him and laughed a great, roaring laugh.
"There you are, maggot," he said. "We wondered what happened to you. Kill him, Sharti."
Grawp did not feel the blow of the hammer his sister had thrown.
He was already walking along a beautiful green road, towards the Great Southern Mountain. Hagger was sitting at the foot of it and roasting a large, juicy bird over a blazing fire.
"What took yeh so long, Grawpy?" he shouted, and Grawp laughed as he ran to him.
P.S. I know giants aren't completely immune to magic, but for some reason my brain insists that a full-blooded giant raised amongst giants would have trouble understanding relativity (and, by extension, relative invulnerability).