Chapter 861 - Giant’s Rampage Ⅴ

The grounds outside of the Potter home are covered in sheets of snow. The large, but toasty warm red brick home is surrounded by an enchanted-looking forest covered in snow. Smoke drifted from the various chimney's keeping the home cozy warm. The small lake on the grounds is largely frozen over with the ducks having long migrated further south for the winter. The only birds that upon occasion can still be seen are crows and ravens, who are stubborn creatures by nature.

Inside one of the parlor rooms sits Mrs. Potter with a knitted blanket around her shoulders and covering her ŀȧp. She eagerly reads a popular muggle novel all the rage in muggle society called, "Jane Eyre." She rather liked the protagonist, the female protagonist was plucky but understood her own set of circumstances. Though she wasn't certain about how she felt Mr. Rochester, he seemed to care for Jane and then would act like a complete cad. She rather hoped that Jane fell for another, but she had an unhappy inkling that Mr. Rochester, in the end, would be the romantic lead rather than the handsome, St. John Rivers.

Feeling much more recuperated from her cold, Euphemia Potter glanced optimistically up at the clock. Her husband, Fleamont, and James would certainly already be at the presentation ball. She knew that her son liked Lily Evans since his second year at Hogwarts, a mother's intuition. But her son had changed over the summer much more solemn and quiet. She thought, he had mȧturėd after his fall, but at times, he seemed to act much older than his age. There was a world-weariness and cynicism that had never been there before and that should not be present in her innocent son.

Euphemia would have put her worries aside, but the concerned letter from the Hogwarts Matron, Madam Pomfrey had convinced her otherwise. Even more, so when she saw how thin her son truly was and the deep eyeshadow on his face upon his return for the winter holidays. It was through her son was drowning in despair and guilt unable to find solace not even in his slumber.

As a mother, Euphemia was severely concerned. The birth of their son, James had come to her and Fleamont late in life. The pregnancy had been a high-risk pregnancy, but she had been graced to birth James safely. They might have spoiled James a bit much when he was young, but he was their most precious and long-anticipated of miracles.

Euphemia lets out a sigh and feeling a bit restless glances up at the time. Convinced that she has time, she rises from her perch and proceeds to don on a pair of warm gloves, scarf, and thick winter robes. She had been invited by her husband's belated cousin's wife, Dorea Potter to visit her Narcissa Malfoy and Andromeda Tonks along with Molly Weasley, who would not be attending the ball due to their small children. It had been a kind gesture on Dorea Potter's part, but she knew it was Yule and she did not want to further impose on the Black family.

Since it was Yules, she knew that Fleamont and James would return later that night to burn the yule log together in the fireplace as a family. She wanted to surprise her husband and son by purchasing some of their favorite treats. The winter festival at Mould-on-the-Would would be full of shoppers and vendors at this hour. She could stop by to pick up a tidbit or two while enjoying the festive ambiance.

Dressed very warmly, Euphemia stops to gaze at her reflection in the mirror. She sees a warm-looking grandmotherly witch with toffee-colored eyes. Euphemia makes a face at her wrinkles and chuckles to herself. Where had all the years gone? She still remembered the lively girl she had once been, and yet an old woman with deep grooves gazed back at her now. Time truly was one of the most baffling of things.

Standing in front of the front door, Euphemia pauses and cries out. "Nimmy!"

A loud pop is heard to reveal a salt-peppered house elf with small bat-like ears, a long-pointed nose, and large blue eyes the size of tennis balls appears. Nimmy and her brother, Dobby looked rather similar. "Nimmy is here!" The house elf squeaked drying her little hands on her clean apron.

"Nimmy, I will just pop out for a bit to pick up a few treats for tonight," Euphemia instructed her house elf. "I will be back not before long."

"Nimmy obeys," the house elf obediently answered, before vanishing with another loud pop.

Satisfied, Euphemia departs from her home and strolls down the snow-cleared path until she is able to safely apparate to Mould-on-the-Would. There is laughter and the scent of delicious snacks in the air. She tilts her face up and smiles at the scents reminiscent of her youth.

Chuckling quietly to herself, Euphemia adjusts her scarf, before venturing to the crowded masses. She first stops to buy a bag of freshly roasted ċhėstnuts to enjoy for herself. She happily chews on the warm treat and stops to watch vendors create moving forms animal forms of cotton candy. The children were happily lined up with their parents to purchase dragons, eagles, and countless of other sugar creature creations.

Euphemia moves to turn away when a loud clattering sound is heard as various icicles fall to the ground. No one pays much attention to them, but small vibrations can be seen on the ice on the ground that shifts without aid on the ground. She continues on her merry way only to abruptly pause at spotting a slender witch with dark hair and sharp features. She furrows her brow in confusion for the witch looked remarkably like that of Eileen Prince, but according to Fleamont, Reginald Prince's daughter was long dead. However, that must have been a lie as this clearly was Eileen Prince with a man that seemed to be her husband carrying their young son.

Before Euphemia can move in for a closer look to satisfy her curiosity and confirm her suspicions, the ground begins to violently tremble and caused the crowd to shriek panic. Suddenly, loud screams can be heard as various members of the crowd point into the distance, before frantically running away.

The crowd abruptly begins to push and shove causing Euphemia to be nearly trampled by the fleeing crowd. Thankfully, she is pushed into a cold pile of snow, but she felt her bottom and sides bruise at the harsh fall. She wasn't young anymore and even a small fall now could easily break her hip or another bone.

Grimacing at the fleeing crowd, Euphemia struggles to her feet. She carefully dusts the cold, wet snow off her clothes, before turning around. Her eyes widen in horror at seeing large humanoid figures over 20 feet tall easily visible over the tops of the buildings. Giants!

Euphemia's eyes widely dart around as she moves to flee when the giants begin to throw large boulders at the fleeing crowd. The ground in front of Euphemia explodes sending rock shrapnel through her body. The impact of the bolder easily tosses her into the air like a rag doll against the side of a brick building. Letting out a pained groan, she weakly slides to wet, slippery, cobbled stone ground.

Groaning in pain, Euphemia tries to rise to her feet, when she hears something whirling sound. She glances up only to see something dark approach her before she knows knowing but pain, and then only darkness. She did not even have a chance to breathe nor think as her body is pulverized by a massive boulder. The only untouched remnant of her body is her wrinkled hand that remains uncrushed lifted upward as if pleading to the sky.

The crowd continues to flee and scream as the dead continue to pile up with the town being destroyed around them. Leading at the helm of the giants is a tall, broad-shouldered giantess with a large ċhėst and curved bottom, Iwara. Her golden hair is braided with fangs, claws of kills. Iwara nods her head in approval of the attack as her pale face is painted with the blood of her enemies. She was still weak and unable to use much of her magic, but still, she was strong as her hands were more than capable of crushing bones with her bȧrė fists. She grins revealing her sharp teeth and nails that can easily tear through flesh.

"The Auror's will be here shortly," Iwara instructed the giants at her side. "Ready the poison," she coldly ordered. Unlike her mate, Wurfbog, she preferred to destroy her enemies with the least amount of energy possible. The Auror's would be unable to defend against the attack and would die without their ever needing to raise even a single finger.. They would show their might and power usher in the dawning of a new era, the era of the Giants! But best of all, wizardkind the deadly cost of underestimating their foes.