Approach

As the evening approached a thick fog had descended to cover the streets of London. It was as though the world had transformed full of moving shadows. It was bitterly cold and many of the residents were home or in nearby pubs. The streets were largely empty, but every now and again sickly yellow lights would appear as vehicles would slowly creep through the streets lest they wrap themselves around a lamppost. The sidewalks were clean, but piles of dirty snow lay on the sides of the road revealing the recent snowfall. Despite the weather, there is a hint of cheer in the air as Christmas garlands and wreaths hang from lampposts. Through window-shops, festive Christmas lights can be seen twinkling dimly despite the heavy fog.

On the outskirts of London, many of the residents have retired to bed. A fair-haired eight-year-old in blue striped pajamas peers through the mist-covered window and out into the dark gray fog. David McGregor was unable to sleep and found himself restless. As he'd gotten older, his memories of the past began to return as his magic grew stronger. He recalled his dad, (Douglas McGregor) being murdered by a werewolf when he was just six, and the brave witch, who died and saved him. He also remembered the plumb wizard with sad eyes, who had held him and brought him back to his mum.

A wizard called an obliviator had erased his memories, but they hadn't completely gone away. He knew that magic was real because he occasionally did things that simply couldn't be explained. None of his older siblings ever had such peculiar things happen to them except him. After they moved away to the outskirts of London near their aunt and uncle, everything seemed like it had gone back to normal.

Yet over the past summer, when they had returned to back to Caithness, he'd played with his friends including Hugh McGonagall and Hugh's older sister, Morag. He'd finally started to remember that terrible night, when he saw Hugh jump out of the swing and float in the air, before gently floating down. Morag was so angry with Hugh, but David began to remember that terrible night. He didn't mean to cry; it was just scary to remember!

David shivers in embarrassment and pushes the memory of him wailing like a baby into the back of his mind. Still, it was nice because he now could talk to Morag and Hugh about magic. They thought that he'd probably get a letter from Hogwarts in a few years too. Morag was turning eleven in the upcoming year and would be sure to get a letter to start next year in the fall. She could hardly wait and was convinced she'd be a Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw.

Personally, David thought Morag would be a Slytherin since she was VERY sneaky. He didn't know much about the four Hogwarts houses except for what Hugh and Morag had told him. It wasn't that he didn't think Morag was nice or bold or smart, but she was just far too sneaky for her own good.

David sighs causing his breath to cloud the windowpane further. Feeling sleepy and a bit cold, he scurries away back to bed. He curls back into bed and fails to see the windowpanes faintly quivering from an unknown source of vibrations. He wasn't the only one as enormous dark figure silently marched through the fog and descended on the shrouded city of London.

Leading at the helm of the giant is much larger than normal, gray-skinned giant over 30 feet tall. Wurfbog, the Gurg of the giants snarled revealing jagged filed shark-like teeth. He knew that his giants were hungry to taste human flesh, but they had an important task to fulfill tonight. Afterward, they would be able to feast until their heart's content.

Wurfbog's muscular body is kept warm by dragonhide clothing made from the prey that he had hunted with his own bare hands. Barely rattling on his neck hung a heavy necklace made of dragon fangs and teeth of his vanquished foes. The recent collectibles are still coated in dried blood and tissue. His thick, black coarse hair is chopped at the earlobes. His face is strangely kept shaven an oddity among giants for sure. A characteristic of his existence as a half-giant that none ever dared to mention if they wished to keep their lives.

Although now only one hand could still hold the giant club encrusted with deadly spikes forged from dragon talons and bones. The other hand was missing having been forcibly removed to ensure Wurfbog's survival. Even now, his eyes would fill with rage at the actions of the wizard known as Antonin Dolohov. In his hand's stead, there now lay a cruel sharp metal hook from which he could hang humans and watch the breath of life depart from their bodies.

Wurfbog's hook gleamed hungrily as he turned his bloodthirsty eyes towards the wizard flying before them on a broom. The long pale face of Antonin Dolohov is twisted with a malicious arrogant expression. The dark-haired wizard flexed his broad shoulders as if in taunt causing Wurfbog's expression to further darken.

In a bored voice as if facing a lesser existence, Dolohov says, "Wurfbog, you still recall the plan do you not? I would hate to be forced to remind you of your place again." He emphasized his last words by visibly twirling his wand in his hand.

Wurfbog eyes narrowed dangerously causing the giants following behind to shiver unconsciously. "Did I not say before that the Dark Lord may find other envoys? Do not try my patience, wizard, it is limited."

Dolohov's eyes glitter with a strange wildness. "I would like to see you try, half-breed," he earnestly said with a rush of hunger and bloodthirst evident in his gaze.

Wurfbog hand clenches the club in his hand but forced his hand to relax. He was strongly tempted to kill the wizard and avenge his lost hand. However, he required the wizard to provide cover for them. The Dark Lord acutely perceived that the giant was not wholly to be trusted and had not included any of the Death Eaters as part of the giant attacks with the exception of Dolohov, who could be trusted not to betray the Dark Lord to the giants.

Dolohov loathed half-breeds especially those mixed with magical creatures. It utterly disgusted Dolohov to see any witch or wizard of good breeding lay with mere BEASTS. It was against nature and these abominations simply could not continue to be condoned nor permitted to occur.

Not that Wurfbog could blame the Dark Lord as his intentions had been to betray the Dark Lord. It was a true pity that he could not rid himself of his infuriating keeper, but an accident could still be arranged for Dolohov. In the heat of battle, a stray club would easily kill the wizard. He would just need to bid his time and vengeance would soon be his.

Dolohov's lips twisted in a cunning smirk at the cold gleam found within the giant's eyes. He understood well enough that the half-breed would attempt to kill him during battle. However, the best of prey is those that are even capable of hunting the hunter. He would enjoy the hunt and he would ensure that the giant perished at his hands. It would be his most dangerous kill yet.