The Last Nephilim

Chapter 34

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The Last Nephilim

Moody, Jeff and Reuben flew in the direction of the ominous clouds forming in the sky. They approached the demilitarized zone, plowing against the wind; the chill bit into their warm flesh. Four objects decloaked, and they found themselves surrounded by a team of mounted Aurors...the Medusa Squadron. The Medusas corralled the trio and forced them to set down on the east end of the front line. Once on the ground, they dismounted amidst several teams of Aurors. The primary officer on the scene, Auror First Class Simmons, stepped out from the thick fog; he didn't look happy.

"Why did you compromise our position?" Simmons said, glaring at the three of them. "You are not assigned to this area."

Moody stood out from the group and faced the elder officer. "I must speak to the maestro immediately."

"He's leading the charge on the western front"...Simmons blocked his path as Moody tried to pass him..."but, you're not going anywhere near there, Moody."

It was then that Jeff spoke up. "We have vital intelligence, Simmons."

Simmons eyed Jeff in return. "Then you should relay it through the chain of command, McKinley."

"With all due respect, sir, we don't have time for this to trickle down third hand." Moody brushed passed him.

"Stupefy!"

Moody dropped to his knees as Simmons' curse clipped him in the arm. "I don't care if the Minister herself sent you here, Moody. If you give away our position one more time, I'll have you shot." He ordered the Medusa squadron to confiscate their wands.

Moody fought against the haze and rose to his feet. "Command doesn't have all the facts; you must forestall the order to attack."

Simmons snorted. "Under whose authority? Yours?"

Moody's jaw clenched in his struggle to keep his tone respectful. "Believe me when I tell you that these are not ordinary giants, sir."

"That's precisely why this hill is our primary point of attack. Their leadership is concentrated at the summit; if we cut off the head of the snake, the remaining tribes will be easy pickings."

"If?" Moody pointed out. "If you go at them straight ahead like this, they'll cut you down!"

"Listen to him, Simmons," Jeff pleaded.

"Don't bother, brothers," Reuben said under his breath. "Tosser's already made up his mind."

"Enough!" Simmons was at the end of his patience. Nevertheless, he turned to the Medusa Squadron leader and said, "Go apprise the maestro of these claims."

The squadron leader flew off. Simmons' reprimand of the junior Aurors was interrupted when a monstrous growl echoed unseen behind the mist and trees. Everyone fell silent and looked toward the top of the hill.

Simmons went into action to rally the troops. "Aurors on the line! Wands high!"

Two rows of Aurors spanned the breadth of the open clearing, their wands held at the ready, primed with lights of every conceivable hue unique to each owner.

"Steady, Aurors."

The grunts got louder. Shapeless forms disturbed the fog. The ground shook of angry footfalls stamping in unison.

"Steady...."

One by one, they broke through the mist: fifty brutish giants, wearing loincloths of animal hide and brandishing primitive clubs and spears. They descended down the embankment toward the humans to the shouts of battle cries in strange giant-speak.

Simmons' order to fire was drowned by the terrible din. Deadly magic erupted from every wand and lit the field with a kaleidoscope of colours. The preponderance of curses descended upon the giants...an unyielding onslaught...and nothing living could withstand it.

The Aurors cheered.

Simmons smiled in satisfaction. "See there, Moody; they went down easily enough."

Moody kept his gaze fixed on the carnage of the aftermath. "I don't understand. Those domesticated brutes were servants, not soldiers."

"Unless someone wants us to think they're soldiers," Reuben said.

Simmons' attitude remained incredulous. "Tactics from giants? Nonsense."

"That's what we've been trying to tell you, sir," Moody reiterated. "You're not dealing with ordinary giants."

Simmons remained silent as he twirled his wand between his nervous fingers. Eventually he decided to err on the side of caution and addressed the front line once more, saying, "Shore up the flanks!"

The order came too late.

They attacked from the rear. Their armour shone brilliantly in the morning sun: a phalanx of titans twenty feet high, swinging their swords and reaping flesh as chaff in the field.

Moody grimaced in reaction to the bloodcurdling screams of those slain Aurors. He looked to Simmons, who, to his credit, did not falter.

Simmons pressed the tip of his wand to his throat so all could hear. "Everyone form up and return fire!"

"In that case, Simmons," Reuben calmly interjected. "If it's not too much trouble, might we have our wands back?"

Needing all the help he could get, Simmons begrudgingly acquiesced, and Moody, Jeff and Reuben added their magic to the cannon fodder. Every available Auror released a volley of curses into the First Tribesmen, but their magic merely bounced off that invincible armour.

The Sons of God laid into the humans, unrelenting, in a one-sided melee of magic versus metal.

Simmons ordered his forces to retreat to a position higher up the embankment. They needed air support. "Brooms, engage!"

Three broom squadrons decloaked and descended from the sky. They were fast and deadly, a force to be reckoned with...until they were met with something faster and deadlier than themselves. The thunder boomed, and bolts of lightning seared the sky, unleashing their fury on the lead broom squadron....

A crimson rain sprinkled across the battlefield.

The two remaining broom squadrons broke off and retreated to a safe distance, helpless to offer aid. The lightning redirected its assault to the Aurors left on the ground, pinched off between magic-proof steel and divine wrath.

The grisly display caused memories to rush to the forefront of Moody's consciousness. Once again, shared mental images from his bond with Titaiaja brought to the fore a glimpse of an ancient device capable of wielding unlimited power...one of the many ways the First Tribe assured compliance from their lesser subjects. He saw a control panel with a button marked in a dead language, but somehow he was able to understand the writing. Manual Override.

Simmons' voice brought Moody back into the moment. "All units fall back; we'll make our stand at the tertiary position!"

Belay that order!

Moody never thought he would be so glad to hear the maestro's voice booming over the slug line. Their leader was here, and they now had a fighting chance.

The maestro revealed himself by coming out from under his invisibility cloak. He cast it aside, holding onto a large sack...its contents unknowable. He commanded, and everyone listened.

All Aurors hold this line and treat the ground with the Engorgement Charm on my mark!

The phalanx of giants trudged ever closer. At their leader's command, the Aurors imbued the surrounding earth with magic. Mushrooms, the size of boulders, magically sprang from their hiding places amidst the giants, planted unseen by a crafty old wizard. The fungal ordnance twitched and exploded. An avalanche of armour tumbled down the mountainside.

The phalanx was routed, but it was a temporary reprieve as the lighting continued to tear into the Aurors indiscriminately. To make matters worse, another legion of armour-clad giants marched from the east.

The maestro stared blankly into the earth. He chanted and waved his wand. Within seconds, a pillar rose from deep within the ground to many meters into the air; filaments fanned out from all angles. When the lightning struck the tip of the pillar, the deadly energy was dissipated.

From a safe distance, the maestro gathered together the remaining Aurors. He walked among them, his brethren in battle, with a calm authority that gave them all a new resolve. "The soil in this area appears to be unusually fertile; it has high concentrations of iron and other trace metals. I want everyone to form a perimeter around this lightning conductor to buy us time. With their lightning shield in play, we have no air support. I need wands on the eastern ridge to take it out before the giants can regroup."

Four Aurors immediately stepped forward. Their leader spoke. "The Vandal Squadron lends you her wand-strength, Maestro!"

In acknowledgement, the maestro placed his hand upon the shoulder of the Vandal Squadron leader. "I will guide you via the slug line. Good luck."

BAM!

At the maestro's instruction, Vandal Squadron Apparated at the base of the eastern ridge fifty yards out. They were immediately struck down by lightning, being denied even the luxury of death throes.

"Bloody hell!" Reuben shrieked. "What happened?"

The maestro regarded the fallen Aurors, then lowered his eyes. "Apparently their shield is capable of targeting magical phenomena."

"That must be why they kept pushing us up the embankment," Moody said. "To get us within range."

The maestro nodded in agreement. "I'll have to go in alone...with no magic."

It was then that Simmons stepped forward to say, "I must protest, Maestro!"

"One person, with a smaller magical footprint, will have a better chance of punching through," the maestro replied flatly. "Nobody else dies today if I can help it."

The maestro's countenance invited no debate on the matter. This, however, did not stop Moody from replying, "Maestro, I know how to deactivate their lightning shield."

The elder wizard narrowed his eyes at Moody. "How can you possibly know that, boy?"

"I can't explain, but I swear to Merlin I can do it!" Moody persisted.

"You're going to leg it all the way to that ridge with those giants out there?" Simmons said.

"That is precisely the reason why we will depend on you to lay down exemplary suppression fire, AFC Simmons." With that, the maestro left, taking Moody along by his shoulder. As they approached the threshold of the lightning conductor's protection, he sheathed his wand and addressed Moody one last time. "If one of us falls, the other must push on. Do you understand?"

Moody nodded, and both wizards were off.

The first ten yards were unnervingly quiet. The duo trudged up the embankment under a protective blanket of various anti-projectile charms. Moody could hear his heart beating between each laboured breath.

At twenty yards out, a flash of light narrowly missed them.

"We're too close together. Separate!"

Moody obeyed. Thirty yards out, the lightning strikes became more frequent, but they were erratic, as if probing blind. It was working.

At forty yards out, they were no longer under the protection of the suppression fire.

"Incoming!"

A volley of spears impaled the earth around them. The giants had regrouped, led by one in particular whose armour was made of gold with two horns that protruded laterally from his helmet. A royal dragon guarded this Golden One who commanded the spear-throwers.

Ysbaddaden! Moody relied on speed to stay ahead of the second volley but noticed that the maestro had fallen behind; fatigue was taking its toll. He paused to regard the old wizard, who had stopped to catch his breath. The maestro looked to him, smiled and broke away toward the giants.

The maestro's gambit to draw the giants' fire paid off...Moody now had a clear line to the ridge. The last thing Moody wanted to do was abandon the maestro, but he remembered his promise to Shacklebolt: to be an Auror.

The maestro advanced upon Ysbaddaden with his wand drawn. The dragon charged in defence of his master with smoke brewing through his nostrils. Bearing down on the human, it spat a stream of orange flame. The maestro unclipped his duelling cloak and covered himself before the flames could engulf him. Then he was gone.

BAM!

The maestro Apparated underneath the dragon as it inhaled. The heavens opened up, and lightning shot down from the sky, igniting the beast.

Moody managed to climb onto the ridge before the ensuing explosion. After the ringing in his ears subsided, he took notice of the machine that commanded the lightning. It was wickedly advanced, but old. The odd contraption clicked and sputtered noisily as it struggled to acquire its next target that stood so close to it. Moody thought it odd that the machine was left unguarded. As he approached, however, he saw a giant slumped next to the device. The armour that the giant wore was stained red from the neck down. Moody sensed a presence behind him and turned with a start to face the tallest giant yet, brandishing a dripping sword.

The giant regarded the young wizard briefly while he flicked the excess blood off his sword as one would brush lint off of a sleeve. Satisfied, he sheathed his weapon and removed his helmet. It was Rogg. "Alastor Moody? Bloody, jolly good to see you again!"

Moody stayed loose as the giant strode past him to the control panel. Rogg seemed indifferent to the human's presence. "Surprised to see me, are you, Rogg?"

"Yes, to be quite frank. Whatever are you doing here on this soon to be historic day?"

"I was going to turn off your lightning shield, actually."

"My word, that would be quite unfortunate for my side. Your air superiority would, no doubt, turn the tide of battle."

"And eliminate Ysbaddaden in the process...your last obstacle to the throne." Moody smirked when Rogg eyed him suspiciously. "Isn't that why you're here, Rogg?"

Rogg smiled. "The Stick Monkey trying to use his little monkey brain, is he?" He pushed the button that deactivated the lightning shield. "There. You can tell your people you've succeeded in disabling our defences."

"First, tell me how you killed Ozymandias."

Rogg chuckled with his usual mirth. "Believe it or not, it was indeed a wizard who held that privilege."

"A wizard that you, no doubt, led into the camp past the security," Moody said. "Was that the deal: land in exchange for a kingdom?"

Rogg nodded approvingly. "Not bad, human, but still no more impressive, to me, than an ape using a stick to fish maggots out of a dunghill."

"They are your people!"

"They are devolved savages, unworthy of natural selection!"

"They're not the savages, as far as I'm concerned."

"Why do you care, Alastor Moody? You certainly have no love for us."

"I guess I just don't like seeing arseholes win, Rogg."

"Too bad there's not much you can do about it, little Stick Monkey."

"I beg to differ." Moody tossed aside his jacket; he needed to be as free as possible. Ozymandias' ring was revealed, donned as an armlet around his bicep.

"The ring...." Rogg scowled uncharacteristically upon seeing rainbow jewel. "Give it to me, little Stick Monkey, before you hurt yourself."

By this time, Moody had strategically meandered toward the slain guard, keeping the corpse positioned between him and Rogg. He drew his wand and teased, "Why don't you come and get it, chuckles?"

Rogg put on his helmet, then pulled his short sword slowly from its sheath. The polished metal glimmered. "You would dare to challenge a being of genetic perfection..."

"Who talks too much!"

The giant advanced with speed that belied his massive size.

Moody's best hexes were but charred strands of flax against Rogg's armour. He summoned the slain guard's broadsword and levitated it between him and his enemy. When Rogg parried the blade aside, Moody allowed the sword to spin, and he thrust the handle into the giant's faceplate; Rogg stumbled backwards. Moody capitalized on the advantage by flipping his sword handle-over-blade to impale Rogg's stomach, but the giant blocked. The wizard kept the pressure on as he gained ground, flipping his sword blade-over-handle to cleave Rogg's helmet.

Rogg reversed his grip on his short sword, deflecting the strike. He snatched Moody's enchanted broadsword and leapt with it, bearing down on the small human.

Moody lost his balance when he somersaulted out of harm's way; his heart raced at the sight of the ground taking the sword meant for him to its very hilt.

Rogg spun on his knees and brought his short sword about.

Moody leapt to clear the blade as it passed under him, eyeing his reflection in the polished surface. He twisted in midair to land on his back, and he pointed his wand between Rogg's feet, invoking a magical pillar of earth from the ground that rose to strike the giant square on the chin. He used the distraction to whip out his invisibility cloak. Rogg threw his short sword just as Moody disappeared underneath the folds.

It was quiet.

Rogg stood motionless, scanning the area for the slightest sign of movement: he was denied...this wizard was well trained in stealth. He retrieved his weapon that was impaled into an adjacent tree. A piece of Moody's cloak was left wedged at the sword's point. "You disappoint me, Stick Monkey. I expected more from the mighty giant killer." He swung his sword blindly about. Hitting nothing, he listened. "Where is your acerbic wit now?"

Moody didn't dare breathe as he stood directly in front of Rogg, invisibility his only protection. He very carefully positioned his wand around his vocal chords and invoked, Ventriloquus. "You never did tell us your real name, Rogg?"

Rogg bolted in the direction of the false voice to the far side of the clearing. He found nothing. "I told you it is unpronounceable in your limited language."

Ventriloquus. "Really? Because Ozymandias, Ysbaddaden, Titaiaja, and Ingrboda didn't seem to share that viewpoint." Moody stepped carefully, moving with the wind in order to mask his disturbance of the grass. "I take it that the truncation was for the benefit of the humans you worked with?"

"Of course." Rogg ventured back in Moody's direction.

Ventriloquus. "Tell me, Rogg the unpronounceable, were you there when Stoker blew open Ozymandias' chest?"

"Still fishing for maggots, eh, Stick Monkey?" Rogg again chased after the spell; he swung his sword at mere echoes. "Stoker wasn't the trigger man, and neither were your Auror compatriots; then again, I have trouble telling your lot apart."

"You might've gotten away with it, if you hadn't've made one small slip-up."

The giant stilled, his interest piqued. "Oh? Do tell."

"When you escorted us out of the camp, you told the guards not attack for thirty seconds...the exact length of time it takes for a Redirectional Jinx to initialize."

"That wasn't so much a slip of the tongue as it was rubbing it in a bit; besides, I had to be sure you'd stick around just long enough before you engaged your Portkey." The giant approached Moody's position. "My only true mistake was relying on Wolf Squadron to finish you off."

Ventriloquus. "Still, that took split-second timing. My hat's off to you, mate."

Rogg ignored the spell. "Thank you. That's very gracious, considering I'm about to kill you horribly."

Shit! Moody took notice of the frayed edge of his invisibility cloak where Rogg's sword had ripped through. The threads were unraveling before his eyes. Rogg probed the ground mere feet from where Moody stood.

"Fee. Fi. Fo." Rogg raised his sword and sneered. "Fum!"

Moody threw off his cloak; his wand was already primed. "EXPELLIARMUS!"

Rogg's short sword flew through the air to stab the ground on the far side of the clearing. Human and giant faced each other.

"I don't need my sword to stamp the life out of you!"

Moody levitated off the ground to Rogg's eye level, his arms folded. "Do you know what I like about your armour, Rogg?" He pointed his wand at the control panel. "It's metal." And he reactivated the terrible weapon.

A bolt of lightning came down from the sky and struck Rogg, followed by a deafening thunderclap. Hot orange sparks shot everywhere, and the ground around the immediate vicinity was scorched. The giant collapsed to the ground.

Moody deactivated the weapon and sent word to his compatriots over the slug line. He waited a full minute before descending. He approachied Rogg's still body, casually stamping out a few smouldering embers as he walked around to the giant's head. He removed the helmet; he thought it odd how the air smelled more of ozone than seared flesh.

Rogg's eyes snapped open. Moody gasped, but before he could react, Rogg grabbed him and began to crush him in his arms. Moody screamed and summoned all of his strength to repel the giant's deadly grip. But, Rogg was stronger.

The giant's mirth belied his sinister intent. "Allow me to impart upon you a fundamental law in electrostatics: the charge that resides along a uniform, enclosed surface...namely, metal armour...exerts no electrical force on particles inside said surface." Rogg could feel Moody's Shield Charm waver as the Auror struggled to breath. "Do you now see why you were doomed to fail, little Stick Monkey? I am better than you in every way." He sneered as his fatal embrace tightened around the human. "Goodbye, Alastor Moody."

Two giants, each wielding a broad sword, pointed their weapons at Rogg, unawares. When they stopped short of impaling his neck, Rogg released his grip on Moody, and the human fell to the ground.

Moody struggled to his feet, but his limbs failed him. The familiar energy of the Levitation Spell cradled him and drew him to safety. He still couldn't breathe, and he started to pass out.

The maestro's familiar, cantankerous voice stirred him. "Easy, boy."

Moody's head nestled in a soft warmth that put his broken body at ease. Delicate hands graced his collapsed chest; Shacklebolt's voice spoke the soothing words. Her magic repaired his ribs and expanded his lungs. His eyes opened at the influx of fresh air and came into focus on her beautiful face; his head rested in her lap.

Shacklebolt's Patronus approached and licked Moody's face. She smirked when he sat up with a start. "I think she likes you."

Moody regarded her and rose to his feet. "Thanks." And he brushed himself off. "What's going on?"

The maestro, covered in dragon entrails, put his finger to his lips, shushing the young Auror. "The soap opera is about to start."

Humans and giants alike crowded around. The giant in gold armour stood over the detained Rogg, removing the helmet to reveal the face of Ozymandias' son, Ysbaddaden.

Rogg, still held at sword point, didn't dare move. "Ysbaddaden, what is the meaning of this?"

"Ysbaddaden, what is the meaning of this?"

The echo of his voice caused Rogg to look about for the source. The Patronus of a hyena...the transmitter...came out from its hiding place in the brush.

Everyone then looked to Shacklebolt. The Patronus at her side...the receiver...at her mistress' command, replayed a portion of Rogg's speech.

"They are devolved savages, unworthy of natural selection!"

Rogg remained silent.

The sting of Rogg's treachery was evident in Ysbaddaden's face. "Why did you betray our Gurg? My beloved father?"

"The betrayal was his," Rogg said in defiance. "The Sickness is not a sickness; it is a cleansing purge, rooting out the impurities in our bloodline. Our 'beloved' Ozymandias knew this, yet he didn't have the stones to take out the garbage. Instead, he nurtured it."

"So, you conspired to kill him like a savage!"

"I'm the Savage? Look at you... all it took was to trigger your lust for revenge, and you're already regressing, just like your brother did eight years ago."

"I am in complete control..."

"No, baby cousin. Even now you struggle to cling to what's left of your intellect, but you feel yourself slipping, don't you?" When Ysbaddaden lowered his eyes, Rogg raised his voice to ensure everyone around could hear. "In less than a week, you'll be like one of them. Everyone will then turn to me, and I will take our people to the next stage of our evolution!"

"Is that what this is about, Rogg? You want to be the Gurg of Gurgs?"

"Gurg?" He smiled. "I want to be God."

Ysbaddaden looked into Rogg's eyes; his voice was quiet but deadly. "I see now that the Sickness has indeed taken its hold on you but in more insidious ways, dear cousin."

"On the contrary, I have proven to be its master." Rogg sneered. "Something your lovely, fertile sister and I have in common."

Ysbaddaden drew his sword and swung it at Rogg. "YOU WILL NEVER HAVE HER!" But, at the last possible moment, he stilled the blade before it would have severed Rogg's head from his neck.

The two stared into each other's eyes, neither backing down.

"No." Ysbaddaden finally withdrew his sword. "This is not our way. This is not the way of any civilized society." He relinquished his sword and placed it at the maestro's feet. At his command, the other giants followed suit; they dropped their weapons and removed their armour. Satisfied, the young Gurg addressed the humans, saying, "I have already ordered all tribes to stand down. You have our unconditional surrender."

"I accept," the maestro replied. He sheathed his wand and commanded every wizard to do the same. "My forces will likewise stand down, your highness. There will be no war between us."

Ysbaddaden averted his eyes. "My people... are sick."

"We will help you." Shacklebolt captured Ysbaddaden's gaze, and she smiled.

Ysbaddaden bowed respectfully. He spoke to his people, and the giants retired from the battlefield, leaving their implements of war behind.

Moody left Shacklebolt's side and caught up to the young Gurg. "Ysbaddaden." The giant regarded him. "Ozymandias chose well." He removed the giant ring from around his arm and levitated it to Ysbaddaden's waiting hand.

Ysbaddaden slipped the ring on his finger; the encrusting jewel glowed brightly. "Peace and reconciliation, Alastor Moody."

Moody stood there until the last of the giants disappeared into the fog. He was surprised when he found Reuben and Jeff had been standing next to him.

Reuben put his arm around Moody's shoulder brusquely. "That was abso-fucking-lutely brilliant, brother!"

Jeff slapped him on the back in similar fashion. "How do you feel, old man?"

"Like a tube of toothpaste." Moody massaged his wounded shoulder.

"Well, suck it up, brother. The first round of Firewhisky is on me!"

Jeff snorted. "What are you so chuffed for, Reuben?"

"Am I the only one that was paying attention?" Reben said, exasperated. "We saved the world, and it's not even lunchtime!"

"What? That hullabaloo?" Jeff waved his hand dismissively. "It's just all in a day's work, Reuben."

"Yeah, mate. This sort of thing is in our contract, if you'd bother to read it," Moody added.

"Who'd bother to read all three-hundred pages of that gobbledygook?"

Jeff shrugged. "I had a solicitor go over mine."

"Really, Reuben, you shouldn't be so high strung. It's unseemly."

Reuben started to respond but changed his mind. "I'll catch up to you tossers later."

"And where are you off to?" Jeff smirked as Reuben walked off.

Reuben didn't bother to look over his shoulder when he replied, "I have to go take a shit!"

Jeff snorted. "He's certainly in a foul mood."

Moody replied with a knowing smile. "I think we enjoyed that a little too much."

"Bah, it's the only way he's going to learn."

The two men were then joined by Shacklebolt, escorted by her pet Patronuses. She spoke when they stood at attention. "Good work, you two." She looked to Moody. "I'm glad to see you took my advice for once, Auror Moody."

"Yes, sir." Moody returned her smile. "Speaking of which, I wouldn't mind taking a few pointers on that Patronus trick of yours. That was very slick."

Shacklebolt patted Moody's sore ribs, and he winced. "By the looks of things, you would do better to take remedial courses in strengthening your Shield Charm, Auror Moody." She took her leave of the two men, parting with, "I'll sign you up for classes next week."

Moody snorted. "Thank you, sir." He continued to eye her as she walked away.

Jeff, taking note of Moody's lingering gaze, said, "What are you looking at, old man?"

"Er...Shacklebolt's... twin Patronuses."

"Ah, I see." Jeff looked her way and added, "Yes, they are odd, aren't they?"

Moody grinned. "Hypnotic would be a better word, I think." His brow then furrowed as he recalled Jeff's earlier comment. "Say, did you really get a solicitor to go over your service contract?"

Before Jeff was able to answer, a putrid odour alerted them to the maestro's arrival. The young Aurors stood at attention, resisting the urge to cover their noses.

"Auror Moody. I just want to make clear that you are to make no mention of any of the details that you and Shacklebolt uncovered regarding the Rotfang Land Trust."

"Understood, Maestro."

"Who else knows about the subject of your investigation?"

"I only mentioned it to Edgar Bones, but chances are Professor Dumbledore is also in the loop."

"I'll take care of them." He looked about. "Where did that gossip Auror Ledley go to?"

"He went to go take a shit, Maestro," Jeff replied.

The maestro's eyes narrowed. "Bully for him."

As the maestro turned to leave, Moody couldn't resist to ask him, "Er, Maestro, may I ask how you knew about the iron in the soil?"

"You may ask." The maestro sneered. "Do you care to share how you knew about the operation of their lightning shield?"

Moody smirked. "You wouldn't believe me, Maestro."

"I look forward to reading your report." He approached closer. "You look like hell. Take the rest of the day off." He left them, leaving pieces of dragon guts in his wake.

Jeff exhaled in relief. "Well, that was actually nice of him." As the rest of the Aurors cleared out, they started to walk back down to base camp. "So, what do you have going on today, mate?"

"I'm pretty much wide open seeing as how I had a war pencilled in for most of the day."

"Yes, it's a bit of a letdown for an otherwise eventful day, isn't it?" Jeff replied. "Wanna grab a bite, then?"

"I am famished, come to think of it," Moody said. "Do you want to eat at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"If you don't mind, I've been wanting to try this Muggle bistro that Poppy told me about."

Moody arched a curious eyebrow. "Poppy? You mean the nurse who works at Hogwarts?"

"Yes."

"Been chatting her up, have you?"

"No!" Jeff's reply was rather abrupt.

"You're a terrible liar, Jeff." Moody nudged him playfully. "Have you shagged her, yet?"

"I, unlike you, am a gentleman, Alastor."

Moody smirked. "She's seen me naked, you know."

Jeff stifled a yawn. "Really, Alastor. Who hasn't seen you naked?" He failed to notice that Moody was no longer walking beside him. "There's nothing to tell, really.... The only thing we've done so far is talk. But, I think I'd have a shot if I decided to make a go at her..." Jeff stopped when he heard a groan. He looked over his shoulder to see Moody a few paces back doubled over. He ran to his side. "Alastor, are you all right?"

Panic had inexplicably overcome Moody. His hand clutched his chest as he thought his heart might stop beating. Though there was no enemy about, he felt like he was in mortal danger. He then realized that he wasn't the one in danger. Titaiaja! And he brandished his wand.

BAM!

He Apparated at the entrance of the giant strong hold. There was no one at the gate, so he ventured inside. He gasped at the sight of dead bodies strewn about the camp, mangled and burned. He paused to inspect one the victims; the wounds appeared to be magically inflicted. There were no signs of life as he explored the camp. He stopped to regard the giantess that helped Edgar the day before. She was left curled at the entrance of her tent; a tiny, still hand jutted out from under her.

He bolted when he heard a scream and raced toward the source. He found Ysbaddaden struggling against seven wizards. Their curses pelted him, and the Gurg screamed. With their attention focused on the giant, Moody engaged them, wielding a wand in each hand.

Your world is frightening...

Do you even know who you are?

Afraid of love, you embrace wrath

Blind to the woe that awaits on your path.

You prisoner of despair.

Unsatisfied, Moody profaned the assassins who were prostrated before him. He spat on them; his words were vulgar. A flash of red disarmed him of his primary wand. Moody looked to the wizard who disarmed him, and he reached for his reserve wand. When the wizard attacked again, Moody blocked the curse and disarmed him on the counter attack.

Though wandless, the wizard bored into Moody like a tank. He picked the Auror up and slammed him onto the ground. Moody nimbly vaulted to his feet, but the wizard picked him up again and slammed him onto the ground, causing Moody to drop his wand...that one hurt.

Coughing blood, Moody managed to his knees to regard his enemy. His eyes widened upon recognizing Norman, the wizard who pledged with him during his academy days...before Shacklebolt's Killing Curse prodded him to quit, that is.

Norman's eyes narrowed in mutual recognition. "Alastor Moody?"

"Couldn't make it as an Auror, so you decided to take up with the Hit Wizards, eh, Norman?"

"You Aurors think you're such hot shit, but it's always left to the Hit Wizards to clean up your lot's messes."

"The war was called off!"

"What?"

"THERE IS NO WAR!"

"That's not what I was told. We're just following orders, Alastor."

Moody squared off, though he staggered. "Tell me, Norman. Did those 'orders' involve the wholesale slaughter of the women... AND THE CHILDREN!"

Moody rushed him, and Norman held him by the scruff of his collar. Moody wailed his fists into Norman's abdomen then spun out of his grip; his backfist clipped Norman on the side of his ear. Two quick jabs from Norman made Moody's legs wobble, but he saw the follow-up...a right cross...and he ducked. Moody answered with a left hook aimed at Norman's nose.

The burly Hit Wizard caught Moody's arm and hoisted him off his feet. He dropped him, but on the way down, Moody hooked his arm behind Norman's neck, and they both tumbled into the dirt. Norman prevailed on top, and Moody covered up as Norman rained down blow after blow, punishing the Auror's forearms.

Enraged, Moody took a shot to the face so he could grab Norman's wrist; he bit into the Hit Wizard's hand. Norman screamed in pain, and he rolled off Moody.

The two scrambled to their feet. Norman found his wand.

"I oughta burn you were you stand," Norman spat. He pointed his wand at Ysbaddaden, its tip glowed green. Moody put himself between the Hit Wizard and the fallen Gurg. "One side, Alastor; I have a job to finish."

Moody did not move. "Over my dead body."

Norman's chest heaved. His lip curled when he saw the deadly determination in Moody's eyes; he eventually lowered his wand.

BAM!

They were suddenly surrounded by a team of Aurors led by the maestro. Jeff and Shacklebolt Apparated soon after, leading a second team. They proceeded to secure the area, but the gruesome scene gave them all pause. Shacklebolt dropped to her knees.

The maestro stared Norman down. "What is the meaning of this?"

The Hit Wizard stood tall and addressed the head Auror with confidence. "Hit Wizard Division Seven carrying out operation Green Purge, Maestro."

"No such order was given for the Hit Wizards!" the maestro said in a steely tone. "Hand over your slug." Norman complied. "Today's color is red, not yellow!"

"We were your backup, Maestro," Norman persisted. "The color was changed on the quarter-hour in order to coordinate the... cleansing."

"Are you telling me that the order to exterminate the giants has been given?"

"Yes, Maestro," Norman replied, nonplussed. "Surely, you gave the order, didn't you?"

"No. Interference from their lightning shield cut off my link to the outside."

"Then who gave the order?"

"It wa'n the Minister; I can tell you dat!" Shacklebolt said, her voice wavering.

Norman averted his eyes. "Merlin, what have we done?"

The maestro inserted the yellow slug into his ear. "This is the maestro speaking...all units listening on this slug line will stand down immediately! I repeat: Operation Green Purge is a no go..."

The frantic voices dulled in Moody's mind; the rest of the world seemed to slip away. Someone, maybe Jeff, tried to help him walk, but he shrugged him off angrily. His gait unsteady, he meandered over toward Ysbaddaden. The Gurg was dead...the ring on his finger dormant...everything was for naught. If only he arrived a minute earlier.

"Akha...."

The weakened voice roused him; he started searching for the source. Moody had never heard the word in his life, but he knew its meaning from a shared memory. Brother.

His heart led him to a nondescript pile of debris. He found his wands and used their magic to uncover Titaiaja, who was carefully hidden in the rubble, concealed by a brother's love. She lay there, restless, her mind struggling for consciousness. Moody waved his wand over her forehead to heal the wound that trickled blood. Her eyes fluttered open.

They beheld each other.

She touched him.

He allowed his tears to fall.

"Hello."

"Hi."