Chapter 868 - Giant Attack on the Ministry of Magic (1/2)
The earth began to tremble and shake as the giants entered London. Most of the citizens were already sound asleep and the rest paid no mind to the shaking ȧssuming it was the metro or some sort of late-night construction. With the thick cloud of fog hanging over London, the giants were able to safely enter London and make their way through the streets. Some of the streets cracked and broke under the weight before they arrived at the seedy pub neatly sandwiched between a book shop and record shop that hadn't been there before.
”Destroy the pub, half-breed,” Dolohov viciously ordered revealing a bloodthirsty grin on his pale face.
Wurfbog sneers in irritation revealing his shark-teeth filled mouth, before raising his giant club overhead. With a loud whistling sound, the giant club encrusted with deadly sharp dragon talons and spikes descends upon the Leaky Cauldron. The Leaky Cauldron lets out a painful groan as the wards in place activate. Inside the grubby bar wizards and witches begin to scream and shout in panic.
The hunched-back bartender throws the back door open and shouts, ”FLEE FOOLS!” The bizarre ȧssortment of customers hurries out through the back door and towards the wall that leads into the Diagon Alley. A panicked customer taps their wand three up and two across as a small hole appears. Screams of panic and terror suddenly are heard as the customers turn back to see a giant club descent directly overhead.
From the shop directly in front of the Diagon Alley entrance, the shopkeeper who was just closing the shop emerges from the front door to lock the front door with a large bronze key. The wizard with very bushy eyebrows mouth flops at seeing the sight before him. In his panic, he crashes into the brightly glistening stack of cauldrons for sale of his neighbor causing the neighboring shopkeeper to emerge in a fury to give the clumsy clout a piece of his mind. The neighboring shopkeeper's mouth snaps shut before he can even begin to rant upon witnessing the horrific sight before them.
The wards of the Leaky Cauldron flare one last time as the entrance to the Diagon Alley widens until a large archway forms leading to the cobbled street on the other side. The bizarre ȧssortment of customers scrambled for safety. The two shop owners begin to flee with the rabble but pause only to knock on the door of a few neighbors to warn them, before hurrying away in terror. Screams and shouts can be heard as the crowd nearly tramples over each other in their haste to escape.
A few patrons that had escaped from the Leaky Cauldron came to a halt further down the street halt believing that they are finally safe. These breathless patrons pause to catch their breath only to see still trailing behind them at a distance is the hunched back figure of Tom, the old bartender, and owner of the Leaky Cauldron.
One of the customers lets out a shriek and points as the club descends for a third time upon the Leaky Cauldron. The exhausted wards of the Leaky Cauldron fail and with a crushing mȯȧn, the Leaky Cauldron is pulverized into smithereens. Not all the customers had gotten out of the Leaky Cauldron especially, those residing for the night upstairs in the inn's bedrooms. The resting guests had elected to ignore the shaking of the Leaky Cauldron until it was too late. They were unwittingly dead just like that without ever so much as having a chance to defend themselves.
A bitter sickly metallic scent fills the air as red liquid creeps out of strange and obscure places. A few customers turn green and hastily turn aside and begin to spew onto the cobbled stone streets. The end of the spiked club had reached past the Leaky Cauldron and easily caught and smashed Tom, the old bartender of the Leaky Cauldron into nothing but a red messy smear. The rest of the observers begin to flee as the word from the fleeing crowd begins to spread like wildfire through Diagon Alley past Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and even into Knockturn Alley.
The sharp club rises with a hungry groan into the air dripping red mush onto the broken cobblestone ground. Wurfbog's eyes gleam in a predator manner and ċȯċks his head at the giants following them. ”Widen the entry,” he growls in order.
Two large giants move forward in obedience among them is a younger giant named Karkus. The giant was twenty-three feet tall with his weight equivalent to several bull elephants. His skin was as tough as rhino hide with powerful forearms for crushing. Despite his girth, he was rather nimble for his large size. However, unlike Wurfbog, Karkus took no pŀėȧsurė in the events that were to take place that night. That is not to say he was not violent nor homicidal, but he rather liked wizardkind. He found wizardkind food tasty and their gifts interesting. For that sole reason alone, he was interested in the reconciliation of giants and wizards.