Chapter 130: The Giant's Forest
The late afternoon sun cast long, golden shadows across the grounds of Hogwarts, but in the Forbidden Forest, twilight reigned. Hagrid's large form stood before the edge of the trees, his face a mask of unusual seriousness.
"Elian," he rumbled, his voice low. "Are yeh absolutely sure about this? Once we're in there, there's no turnin' back."
Elian Throne adjusted the strap of his satchel, his expression calm. The Levitation Cloak was tucked securely within, his wand at the ready. "I'm sure, Hagrid. We have a deal with Dumbledore, and I have my own reasons."
Hagrid sighed, a great, gusty sound. "Alright then. But remember—what yeh saw with Grawp? He's a babe compared to a full-grown giant in its own territory. They're not… reasonable."
"I understand," Elian said, though his mind was already calculating strategies. The System mission, 'The Titan's Ire,' glowed steadily in his awareness. The secondary objective, 'Mage's Dominion,' was the true prize: the giants, as his first vassal race.
"Right then," Hagrid muttered, pulling a massive, folded parchment from his moleskin coat. It was a crude, hand-drawn map. "Dumbledore gave me the last known coordinates. It's deep in the Northern Range, a valley they call Karga's Maw. But it's not precise. They move. We'll have to track 'em from the edge."
Elian studied the map, then looked up at the dense wall of ancient trees. "Lead the way."
For over an hour, they trekked in silence. The forest here was older and wilder than the Forbidden Forest around Hogwarts. Trees towered like cathedral pillars, their canopy blocking most of the fading light. Strange, glowing fungi dotted the gloom, and the air was thick with the scent of damp earth and primal magic.
Finally, Hagrid stopped at the base of a sheer granite cliff face, marked with strange, crude scratches taller than a man. "This is it. The boundary marker. Past here, we're in their huntin' grounds." He turned to Elian, his beetle-black eyes full of concern. "We can still go back. Tell Dumbledore the trail's gone cold."
Elian simply shook his head. He focused, drawing a circle in the air with his fingers. Sparks of fiery orange light trailed from his fingertips, cutting through the dim forest air. With a final, decisive gesture, he completed the circle. The space within it shimmered, then tore open, revealing not a location, but a swirling, star-filled void—a portal anchored not to a place, but to a direction and a distance, using the coordinates Hagrid had provided.
Hagrid gasped, stumbling back a step. "Blimey, Elian… every time."
"The Sling Ring is for precise destinations," Elian explained, his voice steady. "This is… less precise. It will take us to the general region. A blind jump. Are you ready?"
Hagrid swallowed hard, then squared his massive shoulders. "For Grawp. For the cause. Let's go."
Together, they stepped through the shimmering portal.
The sensation was like being pulled through a cold, rushing river. There was a moment of disorienting pressure, and then they stumbled out onto hard, frost-rimed earth.
The temperature had plummeted. They stood in a high, rocky pass surrounded by jagged, snow-capped peaks that clawed at a steel-grey sky. A bitter wind howled, carrying the scent of pine and stone. Far below, in a vast, scarred valley, they could see the unmistakable signs of giants: felled trees like scattered matchsticks, and the black pits of enormous firepits.
"We're here," Hagrid whispered, his breath frosting in the air. "Karga's Maw."
Elian's senses, heightened by his mystical training, stretched out. He could feel the latent, brutish magic in the earth, the residual heat of colossal bodies. And he could feel them—huge, slow-burning embers of life and rage, clustered further down the valley.
"They're close," Elian said. "We should find a vantage point."
They picked their way down a treacherous scree slope, heading for a rocky outcrop that overlooked the valley floor. As they walked, the tension in Hagrid seemed to grow.
"Elian," he began again, his voice barely audible over the wind. "I gotta ask. What's the real plan? Yeh can't just walk up and say 'ello. Dumbledore said to 'assess,' but that's not what you're here for, is it?"
Elian didn't answer immediately. They reached the outcrop and crouched behind a boulder. Below, in a clearing near a frozen river, was the giant camp. It was a scene of breathtaking, terrifying scale. A dozen giants, each standing between twenty and twenty-five feet tall, moved with a slow, ground-shaking ponderousness. Their skins were like grey leather, scarred and calloused. They wore pelts of mammoth creatures and carried clubs made from entire tree trunks. One was roasting what looked like a woolly rhinoceros over a firepit the size of a swimming pool.
The sheer, brute physicality of it was a shock, even after seeing Grawp. This was a tribe of apex predators.
Hagrid was staring, his face pale. "See? See what we're up against? Dumbledore sent me to talk to 'em, to reason. It was hopeless. Their chieftain, Korg, he just laughed. They follow strength. Only strength."
Elian finally turned to look at Hagrid, his grey eyes calm and utterly focused. "Then that's what I'll show them."
"What d'yeh mean?"
"I'm not here to talk, Hagrid. I'm not here to make friends or treaties." Elian's voice was quiet, but it carried a finality that chilled Hagrid more than the mountain wind. "I am here to conquer them. To make them submit."
Hagrid froze. For a long moment, the only sound was the distant, thunderous noise of the giants and the moan of the wind through the pass.
"You…" Hagrid stammered, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Yeh can't be serious. Conquer? Submit? Elian, have yeh lost your mind? Look at them! One swipe and—"
"I am serious," Elian interrupted, his gaze returning to the valley. "The centaurs saw it. Magorian's vision. A giant's severed head. A new king crowned. He saw me, Hagrid. This is the path. The giants will be the first pillar of the new order. And Grawp will be their chieftain."
Hagrid's jaw hung open. The pieces clicked into place with a terrible clarity. Elian's interest in Grawp, his questions about giant hierarchy, his calm acceptance of the mission. It wasn't to undermine Voldemort's alliance. It was to steal it. To build his own army.
"Grawp… as chieftain?" Hagrid whispered, horror and a strange, reluctant awe warring in his voice. "You… you planned this from the start. When you pushed Hermione toward him…"
"She needs to bond with him," Elian said simply. "When I am not here, she will be the one to manage him. To guide him. She has the authority, the intelligence. She just needed to discover it for herself."
Hagrid sat back heavily against the rock, his face ashen. He thought of Hermione, small and fierce, shouting at a confused Grawp. He thought of the centaurs kneeling in the forest. He thought of Dumbledore's words about shifting prophecies.
This wasn't a student on a dangerous mission. This was a warlord, claiming his first territory.
"Dumbledore…" Hagrid managed.
"Knows that the old ways are failing," Elian finished. "He trusts me to change the game. This is how it changes, Hagrid. Not with secret meetings and defensive spells. With power. With dominion."
He stood up, brushing frost from his trousers. "Stay here. If this goes wrong, get back to the portal point and return to Hogwarts. Tell Dumbledore… tell him I understood the stakes."
"Elian, no! Yer just one lad! They'll crush yeh!" Hagrid scrambled to his feet, reaching out a massive hand.
But Elian was already walking down the slope towards the giant camp, his cloak flapping in the wind. He didn't draw his wand. Instead, he raised his empty hands, and golden light began to coil around his fingers—the intricate, geometric patterns of the Rings of Raggador, forming shimmering discs of energy on the back of each hand.
Hagrid watched, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was torn between a desperate urge to drag Elian back and a stunned, terrifying curiosity. He saw Elian stop at the edge of the clearing, a tiny, dark figure against the monumental giants.
One of the giants noticed him. It let out a grunt, a sound like boulders grinding together, and pointed a finger as thick as a man's torso.
All movement in the camp ceased. A dozen massive, brutish heads turned. Deep-set eyes, small and cunning with malice, focused on the lone human.
The largest giant, sitting on a throne of stone and skulls, slowly rose to his full, terrifying height. Korg the Chieftain. He hefted a spiked club that could flatten a house.
A roar erupted from the giant, a wave of sound and foul breath that swept across the clearing. It was a challenge. A promise of violence.
On the slope, Elian Throne did not flinch. He took one more step forward, the golden mystic rings on his hands blazing like captured suns.
"Hagrid's shock," Elian murmured, too low for anyone but himself to hear, "is only the beginning."
(End of Chapter)
✨If you're enjoying this story, consider supporting me on Patreon —
Patreon.com/TofuChan
Where you can read Extra Advance Chaters
Bonus Chapter For Every 100 Power Stones
Lets hit the goal of 300 Patreon Members now for 5 Extra Chapters 💕