Tall Order

Chapter 24

Tall Order

It was quiet in Dumbledore's Wizengamot office. Moody had resorted to counting the holes in the ceiling tile to pass the time. He wanted nothing more than to take out his hip flask, were it not for Edgar Bones sitting across from him, drumming his fingertips on the tabletop.

Perceiving Moody's annoyance, Edgar took his hands off the table and placed them in his lap. "Sorry. I feel like I've been sent to Dumbledore's office for detention."

"We are in Dumbledore's office."

"True. At least we're not having to write lines in those rickety chairs."

Moody gave Edgar a knowing smile. "I didn't mind the chairs so much, but what was that smell?"

"My mates and I had this theory." Edgar snorted at the memory. "That the proctors gassed the rooms with slothbrain pollen to make us more docile."

"Meh, that's an old rumor. It didn't work in my case, besides."

"Nor mine." Quiet returned to the room and Edgar's grin disappeared. "Say, Alastor, about last night..."

Moody rolled his eyes. He was hardly in the mood to rehash the previous night's events. "I know what you're going to say, and while I appreciate that you and Billings are mates..."

"Billings and I aren't mates," Edgar chuckled. He leaned in as if someone were going to eavesdrop and said, "Between you and me Billings can be a bit of an arse."

"Sorry," Moody said with curious amusement. "What were you talking about, then?"

"I... took the liberty escorting your cousin Pomona home last night."

"My cousin Pomona?" Moody repeated, unsure if he had heard Edgar correctly.

"I just wanted to assure you that my intentions toward her are strictly honorable."

"Right." Moody smiled upon remembering that Edgar had indeed left the gala early with Pomona and was, therefore, unaware of last night's altercation. "She's a good woman, my 'cousin' Pomona, and I wish you both the best." He tried his best to look serious as he continued, "A bit of advice: my 'cousin' prefers to be addressed by her nickname 'Holly'."

"Thanks, Moody. I owe you one."

The young wizards looked to the opening doors. They rose when Dumbledore and Shacklebolt entered the office. The phoenix perched on Dumbledore's shoulder flew to its familiar roost in the ceiling. With a flourish from Dumbledore's hand, the doors magically closed.

Shacklebolt did not bother to stand on ceremony and got right down to business. She threw the scroll on the table, and it unrolled itself to reveal a topographical map of the Northern Country. She hovered her wand over the map while the other wizards looked on. "As sworn Ministry officials everything you hear from now on should be regarded Most Secret. You may have heard reports of increased giant activity in the forests of the Northern Country. Recent intelligence suggests that they are organizing in some fashion. Worse yet, it is getting to the point where concealing their movements from Muggle eyes will soon become untenable. Members of Wolf Squadron have led expeditions into their territories, but we have not heard back from them since. We fear the worst."

Edgar looked up from the map and raised his hand timidly. "Er, sorry. What exactly are we going in for, then?"

"To prevent war, Edgar," said Dumbledore.

Shacklebolt nodded in agreement. "Professor Dumbledore claims that the giant migrations are altruistic in nature and unrelated to the recent string of violence in the area."

Edgar was unconvinced. "That flies in the face of what we know about them."

"Have any of you ever heard of the First Tribe?" Dumbledore queried. He smiled when no one volunteered to answer. Nevertheless, being a teacher for so long, it was hard for him to pass up an opportunity to entertain with a lecture. "In giant lore the First Tribe is known as the 'Tribe of Tribes'. It is believed to be the progenitor from which the twelve major tribes are descended. They were informally known as the Tallest of the Tall or the Wisest of the Wise, depending on the translation."

"It sounds like a myths and fairy tales," Edgar muttered with his arms folded.

Dumbledore smiled and replied, "Myth or not, an open invitation was extended to me along with three guests for an audience with their Gurg, Ozymandias."

Shacklebolt held up her arm to present the bracelet around her wrist and added, "This Portkey will teleport us to a secure jump point from which we will Apparate to a random location within half a kilometer of the giants' camp." It remained quiet in the room as she collected the scroll. "Any questions?"

Edgar timidly raised his hand again. "Am I the only one who finds it worrisome that we're taking all these precautions?"

"I'm sure this is just standard best practice, Edgar," Dumbledore said.

"What's wrong, Bones?" Moody smirked. "You plan on living forever?"

"Not 'forever', but I would hope getting to next week isn't too much to ask?"

Shacklebolt continued to roll the scroll between her hands tighter and tighter until it magically disappeared. "Nobody wants a war. As long as nobody takes any provocative action, we should be fine."

"Define 'provocative'?" Edgar said, concerned.

Shacklebolt eyed Moody slyly and answered, "Getting so drunk as to have no qualms about punching our host would qualify."

Moody felt his jaw clench but did not otherwise react. Dumbledore maintained his usual air of detachment while Edgar furrowed his brow thoughtfully at Shacklebolt's oddly descriptive comment.

Shacklebolt took out her wand and tapped her bracelet with it. A wave of energy engulfed them all.

BAM!

Moody opened his eyes. They were in an open clearing surrounded by several teams of Aurors. He noticed the maestro among the group along with Reuben, who sported a surprised look on his face...presumably at Moody's presence. Shacklebolt tapped her bracelet again.

BAM!

All was quiet and dark in the unfamiliar forest. Moody took out his wand. He, Edgar and Dumbledore stood alone under the shade of the many trees.

Out of habit Moody began to look about when he felt an odd energy that caused his wand to shake. Only one thing could make it do that. He looked to the trees and gasped, realizing that he was surrounded by mature Purplehearts. He placed his hand on the nearest specimen; the energy from the tree shot through his arm down to his wand, causing it to glow as if it were saying hello to an old friend.

Though the strange phenomenon caught Edward's attention, he felt it more prudent to point out that they were one member shy. "Where's Shacklebolt?"

"Concealed behind a secondary Confundus Charm, no doubt." Moody put his wand away, satisfied that the area was secure. "Protocol demands a certain redundancy when Apparating into hostile territory."

Edgar did not find comfort in the word he parroted. "Hostile?"

"Just a turn of phrase, Edgar," Dumbledore said while kneeling over to examine the flowering bush at his feet. "I am sure we are perfectly safe here."

"So, what do we do now?"

"We wait," Moody replied. He knelt next to Dumbledore to see what held the old wizard's fascination. "Is that what I think it is?"

Dumbledore nodded in answer. "Dragonsbane."

"I didn't think this species grew in the wild anymore."

"Neither did I."

"Not only that but we appear to be standing in the shade of wandlore-grade Purplehearts," Moody said. "They shouldn't be able to thrive in this soil. I wonder what else is growing around here?"

Dumbledore clipped a sample of the dragonsbane and stashed it in his robe. "A treasure trove for any herbologist, I suspect."

"Too bad it's in the middle of the giants' territory," Edgar deigned to comment, although he didn't seem to share their fascination. He failed to notice Shacklebolt when she walked through the stealth charm, and he flinched at the sound of her assertive voice.

"This way, gentlemen."

At full stride Moody was the first to come to her side. "Auror Shacklebolt, you are the superior officer; so, I should be the one to take point."

"Your role in this mission is strictly in a diplomatic capacity, Mistah Moody," she replied formally. "Therefore, you will please take you place with the others and follow my lead."

Shacklebolt maintained a brisk pace through the woods. No one spoke as they followed her single file. All the while Moody made a mental note of the various species of magical-grade flora that the forest supported.

Halfway through a steep incline, everyone stopped when Shacklebolt froze in her tracks. She raised her arm with her palm open. In understanding, Moody and Dumbledore spread out and took cover among the trees.

Edgar, on the other hand, allowed his curiosity to get the better of him and opted to stand next to Shacklebolt to gaze in wonder at the quiet, odd shadows that interrupted the rays of sunlight peeking through the bush. He took a step back when an arm the size of a full-grown man bent the trees as easily as a child would brush aside an annoying twig.

A huge figure stepped into view. He wore a vest of thick, polished leather over a fine linen shirt dyed emerald green. His pants were neatly pressed; the shoes he wore were of smooth, tanned dragonhide. He stood erect, taller than any house. His dark hair was short and kempt, save for a single braid of hair that hung down on the left side to just above his waist. In spite of his menacing size, his exquisite square jaw and fair features put everyone at ease.

Moody and Dumbledore stepped from behind the trees and joined the rest of the group to regard this Adonis who stood over them as one worthy of their worship.

Edgar cleared his throat to steady his wavering voice. "Professor, what is that?"

"That, Mr. Bones, is a giant," Dumbledore said.

"But, he looks like one of us...Er, aside from his stature, I mean."

Dumbledore grinned. "You're very perceptive, Edgar."

The giant looked down on the four humans. A smile slowly appeared, showcasing his perfectly aligned teeth. "Titaiaja, look; it's little people!"

Hearing her name, a young giantess appeared from the opening left behind in the trees. Her satin dress glistened in the dull rays of the afternoon sun. She stood next to her giant companion and beamed with joy upon seeing the small humans. "They came? Splendid!"

"Titaiaja," Dumbledore greeted. "Come, let me have a look at you, child."

Giggling, Titaiaja twirled gracefully before the old wizard. "Uncle Albus," she said with a pout. "I'd give you a hug, but you've grown so short."

"Oh, I think I've remained pretty much the same, my dear."

The male giant knelt in front of the humans and bowed. "Hello, I'm Rogg."

"Rogg?" Dumbledore repeated, quizzically.

"Yes. Forgive its rather guttural quality, but I've recently discovered that most humans find my birth name unpronounceable. Hence, Rogg."

"Quite understandable, Rogg," Dumbledore said. He removed his hat and bowed in kind. "I am Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore."

"Your reputation precedes you, sir. My cousin Titaiaja here has told me a lot about you. I must say it's bloody good to finally be able to put a face to the name!" Rogg looked to the witch standing next to Dumbledore. "And who might you be, madam?"

"Queenie."

"Jolly good!" Rogg bellowed. He then acknowledged Edgar. "And you, sir?"

"...Uh."

"Bloody jolly good to meet you, Uh! I have an uncle Uh in Finland. You two would get along well."

Tataiaja peeked over Rogg's shoulder. She smiled when Moody regarded her. "Are all wizard males as handsome as you?" She stepped closer and leaned over to get a better look. "We would make pretty children."

"Manners, Titaiaja. Don't embarrass our guests," Rogg scolded. He turned back to the wizards to say, "Titaiaja is not as versed in human greeting customs, I'm afraid."

The giantess averted her eyes. "I have caused offense. For that I am sorry."

Moody bowed to her saying, "Don't be... I'm not." He returned her blush with a smile.

Rogg eyed the curious young Auror. "And you are?"

"Alastor Moody."

"Alastor Moody?" Rogg slowly rose to his feet. "The Alastor Moody?" He placed his hand over his heart and bowed respectfully. "Peace and reconciliation. Come with us, please. Ozymandias awaits."

The giants led them to the top of the embankment. At its summit was an encampment...a grand, elaborate arrangement of shiny silk tents and robust temporary structures. They were allowed through the main entrance, guarded by two stout giants brandishing spears as thick as tree trunks.

The wizards were given a tour of the bustling tented community, escorted by Rogg and Tataiaja. Despite the nature of their camp, the underlying infrastructure proved to be deceptively cutting edge.

Moody had never felt so insignificant: an ant among gods.

Their tour ended at the guest tent. At Rogg's command two giants meekly attended to him. These giants were of the sort to which the wizards were more accustomed, being more brutish in nature with disproportionate limbs and prominent foreheads.

After giving the docile brutes their instructions, Rogg said, "You may refresh yourselves here. These natives will see to your needs. They're a bit slow, but they're well trained."

Edgar's eyes narrowed. Although these more familiar giants seemed well ordered, he did not venture any closer. "Are these your slaves?"

"No, they pay us tribute of their own free will," Tataiaja answered matter-of-factly.

"Ozymandias commands the respect of all the other gurgs," Rogg said.

"And in return we provide them with clothing, medical treatment and basic literacy," Tataiaja elaborated.

"So, your tribe is not native to England?" Edgar said.

"No," Titaiaja snorted. "The last time we were on this island was about...." She trailed off, struggling to remember.

"Eight years ago," Rogg said, completing her thought. He, along with Tataiaja, left the wizards to attend to their duties.

Dumbledore greeted their brutish attendants and entered the tent. Moody, Shacklebolt, and Edgar, however, were more circumspect in their ambition and opted to remain outside at a respectful distance.

"Interesting," Shacklebolt muttered to herself.

Moody gave her a sideways glance while keeping one eye on the brutes. "Something you care to share, Auror Shacklebolt?"

Shacklebolt kept her voice low when she replied, "There is an obscure theory that posits the notion that the First Tribe is nomadic. Furthermore, they must survive on the 'hospitality' of whosever territory they encroach upon at the moment."

"This is not a popular theory, I take it?"

Shacklebolt nodded. "It was always discounted because it was assumed that they operated at a comparable level of technology as competing subtribes. But, to see their level of sophistication...not to mention their dress and manner...the evidence is incontrovertible."

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL!"

A young girl, easily four meters tall, held a screaming Edgar in her arms as she disappeared between the tents. Moody, Shacklebolt and Dumbledore, roused by the commotion, gave chase, but they had trouble keeping up with the youngster who was able to skip along with a stride several times that of a human.

A stern voice stopped the child in her tracks. "Ingrboda, put him down this instant!" The little girl turned to the giantess who glared down at her and spoke with a series of serene clicks to which the giantess replied, "You're supposed to speak English, remember?"

"Sorry, Mummy." The child-giant presented the human in her arms. "Can I keep him?"

"He is not a toy. Release him or you'll get no grilgagrish for dessert." When Ingrboda put Edgar down, the mother softened her voice. "Now apologize to the man."

Ingrboda looked down at Edgar, crestfallen, and said, "I'm sorry."

The mother sent the child on her way and knelt in front of Edgar. "Sorry about that; you know children."

Visibly shaken, Edgar continued to brush himself off. "It's quite all right."

"Did she injure you? I'd be happy to carry you to the hospital tent." She leaned forward to offer her hand, unaware that her chest was at his eye level.

Edgar stood mesmerized but had the presence of mind to hop back before he was knocked over. He averted his eyes, and his face turned a bright pink. "That won't be necessary, madam."

The mother continued to regard Edgar and smiled weakly when the human acknowledged her stare. "She's right; you are adorable. We would make beautiful babies." Twirling her hair, she rose and placed her other hand over her heart, an awkward task given her large bust. "Peace and reconciliation."

Eyeing her as she went, Edgar failed to notice Moody, Shacklebolt and Dumbledore as they gathered around him. Edgar blinked when Moody waved a hand in front of the stunned wizard's blank expression.

"Are you all right, Edgar?" Dumbledore said with a smirk.

Edgar cleared his throat. "No worse for wear, Professor."

Moody folded his arms, trying not to snigger as he said, "Our fault, I suppose, for being so adorable."

Shacklebolt put her wand away and rolled her eyes at the three men, who continued to gaze in the giantess' direction. "All of these... females appear to be in estrus."

Edgar nodded. "Well, fatherhood proposals aside, these are hardly your normal everyday giants. "

"Why? Because they can form complete and coherent sentences?" Dumbledore said. He turned to Moody. "What say you, Alastor? You have yet to comment."

Alastor pursed his lips in thought. "I'm... reserving judgment, Professor."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Fair enough."

A shadow cast upon the wizards prompted them to look up. A giant, dressed in formal robes, stood over them with an ominous countenance. His birth-braid hung down to his chest. Though the sun was at his back, it was easy to reckon the glower in his eyes.

Dumbledore was first to speak. "Hello, Ysbaddaden. It's been a long time."

"Professor," Ysbaddaden greeted aloofly. He regarded the other three wizards, his eyes resting on Moody the longest. "You and your party are to come with me now. My father, Ozymandias, is ready to receive you."

The giant, Ysbaddaden, escorted the humans to the largest tent, located in the center of the city-camp. Once inside they were instructed to take off their shoes. The curtain to the entrance was drawn, and they were greeted with the scent of sweet, fragrant spices. The giantess at the threshold plucked an exotic stringed instrument. Their feet sank into the plush rug as they followed the path to the throne on which sat Ozymandias, the king of all giants.

The muscular frame that bulged underneath his surcoat belied Ozymandias' advanced age, made evident by the thick birth-braid that draped over his shoulder and looped several times around his massive forearm. On his left sat Rogg and Titaiaja. The other attendants of the court had their places along the periphery. He sat relaxed on his throne with his chin rested atop his fingertips. Ysbaddaden approached and kissed the jeweled ring on the king's hand. Ozymandias waited until Ysbaddaden took his place at the right of the throne before speaking.

"Young Albus Dumbledore. Still little, yet all grown up."

"Live forever, Ozymandias, Gurg of Gurgs."

"And you, wise Albus." Ozymandias smiled. "Now, who have you brought before me this day?"

Upon introduction Edgar stepped forward with confidence. "On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, I send you greetings, Gurg Ozymandias. It is my hope that the alliance we forge today will usher in a new era of peace for our two peoples..."

Ozymandias raised his hand, cutting Edgar off. "Well spoken, but we can talk politics later, Mr. Bones." He pointed, then curled his finger at Shacklebolt; she approached him warily. "Did Albus bring you here solely to drive the women of my tribe to jealousy, my child?"

"That, and to protect us from you," Dumbledore said with a smirk. "No offense intended."

"Oh?" The old Gurg chuckled as he stroked the stubble on his chin. "Then this must mean that you are obliged to dine at my pillow tonight in order to keep a close watch on me with those beautiful eyes?"

Shacklebolt curtsied. "That is correct, your majesty."

"In that case, no offense is taken." Ozymandias' eyes settled on the next wizard in line. He didn't need an introduction for this one. "Alastor Moody."

Moody stepped forward and bowed formally. "I am honored, sir."

Ozymandias put his hand over his chest and bowed in return. "Peace and reconciliation."

Moody looked around, perplexed, as all the other giants in the tent bowed in a similar manner...all except Ozymandias' son, Ysbaddaden.