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A Bend in Time

Before there ever was a boy that ever lived in a cupboard on Four Privet Drive, there was a similar boy in a far worse home that lived on Spinner’s End. We all know the tale of that abused boy who grew up to become a bitter spy. But not all tales end the same for in the many parallel worlds that exist in the universe there are far better endings, and equally as many worse ones. This is a tale of one such condemned universe that for better or for worse chooses to change its own fate at through the sacrifice of the bitter spy. (All rights to the Harry Potter world and characters belong solely to J. K. Rowling. However, I do claim creative fanfiction rights. Please do not post my fanfiction elsewhere without my express permission. This work will also be partially hosted at RoyalRoad, Wattpadd, and Archive.)

EsliEsma · Derivados de obras
Sin suficientes valoraciones
1224 Chs

Outcome of the Clash Ⅲ

The Forbidden Forest shakes from the ferocity of the battle as Wurfborg attacks his opponent baring his razor-sharp teeth at Fridwulfa. He had long since been forced into hand-to-hand combat since his club had been rendered useless entrapped by the corpse of the traitor, (Filfor, the mate of Fridwulfa). Slashing his razor hook at Fridwulfa, he gouges another deep cut into her forearms. Her forearms drip with countless gouged-out flesh wounds.

In that same breath, Fridwulfa ground her teeth in pain but swung with all her might the uprooted tree in her hand as a club and successfully pushes Wurfborg back. They continue to fiercely go at each other as the acromantuala's and centaurs continue their attacks causing the remaining giants to fall to the ground. Hagrid does his best to aid while tying down the fallen giants to the ground to stop them from rising to aid in the battle.

Glancing out of the corner of her eye, Fridwulfa sees something white and sleek darting towards them from the sky. Distracted Fridwulfa does not see the punch from Wurfborg that sends her tumbling toward the ground. Seeing his chance, Wurfborg raises his deadly hook and swings forward to slay her, when a cold blast forces his hand to drop heavily to the ground.

Shocked Wurfborg finds his entire arm encased in a block of thick ice. Seeing her opportunity, Fridwulfa sweeps Wurfborg's feet out from under him. Wurfborg heavily tumbles to the ground as Fridwulfa rises and raises the pointed portion of her club. "Challenge," Fridwulfa howled plunging the jagged end of the tree with all her might into her enemy's chest.

Wurfborg attempted to block the attack, but one of his hands is weighted down by ice and the other is easily kicked away. Time seems to slow as from the corner of his eyes he sees ice blocks being hurled from the sky at other giants pinning them to the ground or slowing them down. The sharp end of the tree oak looms closer and closer blocking out the light. A sharp agonizing pain streaks through his chest causing a scream to erupt from his chest.

The breath abruptly cuts off from his throat. His eyes feel heavy and lethargic. Yet from of the corner of his eye, a shadow that had been present all along patiently steps closer. The dark shadow purposefully approaches filling Wurfborg's eyes with a dreadful fear. And then-.

The eyes of Wurfborg abruptly become dull while his body becomes limp as the last breath of life departs from his body. Fridwulfa releases her grip on the uprooted tree and rises to her feet. "Wurborg DEAD! STOP! GRUG COMMANDS!"

The giants immediately cease to fight as they turn around to face their new Gurg some with disbelief, others with relief, and others with mixed feelings. Fridwulfa raises her bloodied cut hand into the air in triumph. The giants are silent for a moment before they begin to cheer. "Gurg!" "Gurg!" "Gurg!"

Before falling quiet as ice warningly shatters against the ground. Floating above them is a glistening, white scales, sapphire-colored eyes, and a matching gem embedded in its forehead, a juvenile Great Horned Serpent with small horns growing on the side of the serpent's head. Over 19 feet long and still growing (and as thick as a man's thigh), Nadira coolly eyes the giants. "Fridwulfa, you were granted asylum on these grounds at the request of the Hagrid and the Protector. I accommodated their request and in turn, now demand you repay the debt."

"Gurg understands," Fridwulfa proudly responded. "Peace, we will obey," she loudly emphasized. "We will not attack."

There is a loud score of grumbles among some of the giants, but primarily there is much relief on the faces of many of the giants, especially the giantesses and elderly giants. The wounded giants tiredly sit down with a thundering shake to tend to their wounds, while others plop down to rest causing the Forbidden Forest to continue to shake.

Many of the giants are wounded, but there are dead among them. The dead will later be buried in a single giant hole. The giants did not believe in burying giants separately, but rather together. Not out of laziness, but the giant belief is that those that are buried together will arrive together in the Great Beyond.

Nadira nods her head in a pleased fashion as the centaurs desist in attacking and the acromantula's click their pincers at her before retreating back into the Forbidden Forest and returning to their nest. Their dead are left behind as the acromantuala's do not bury their dead. Hagrid sniffs loudly as he carefully carries each of the giant spider's corpses to be burned in a pyre later.

Drifting lower into the tree line Nadira approaches the centaurs led by Chief Magorian. The proud, high-cheekboned centaur's face is covered in painted battle runes, while his long black hair is dusty and tangled. His long deadly spear is broken in half but still carried in one hand. His long bow is at his back with an empty quiver of arrows. His other arm hangs limply at his side clearly having been broken during the battle.

Magorian's face is unusually solemn despite the pain. However, there are many tears pouring down the faces of the surviving warriors. Much of the war paint is already smudged on their faces, but the tears smudge even further the painted battle runes. Those able to stand gather around a fleabitten grey with red blood marks. The silver hair of Aldonius is dusty as he weakly rests his head in the lap of his apprentice, Firenze.

Firenze's white-blond hair is gray and full of dust. There are fresh wounds stark against his pale swimmer's build and palomino body. He is not embarrassed or ashamed as tears drip out from the brightest and palest of sapphire-colored eyes.

Aldonius's lips are dry as he struggles to breathe. He had been carelessly tossed by a giant during the attack and had felt many things break inside him. He had hurt at the start, but now much of the pain had faded away. He felt tired and ready to rest. It was time.

Letting out a shallow breath, Aldonius with utter tranquility closes his eyes and steps into the Great Beyond. Firenze lets out a cry of sorrow at seeing the elderly shaman pass away. With trembling fingers, Firenze closes Aldonius's eyes with one hand and grabs a hand of dirt from the ground. "From Earth, we are born and to Earth, we return," Firenze whispered pouring a handful of dirt onto the shaman.

Nadira blows gently onto the body of the shaman causing the body of the shaman to become light and rise. Firenze stumbles to his feet only to be caught by other tribe members. The tribe members respectfully remove their hands and bow to the new shaman.

Firenze wordlessly thanks the serpent, before gathering the lightened body of Aldonius. Leading the way, Firenze departs as the wounded and dead are gathered to be returned to the tribe. A large funeral pyre would be held to honor and remember the fallen.

Nadira grimly watches the processions before darting away. She must capture any remaining Death Eaters and speak to the Headmaster of Hogwarts. She could feel his presence upon these lands again along with that fire chicken of his. (There is bound to be some bias since in nature serpents and birds do not naturally get along.)

“Death comes to us all; we can only choose how to face it when it comes.” ― Robert Jordan, The Dragon Reborn

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