So... I'm back from my holiday, and the hiatus is officially over! (For now)

First of all, thanks so much for your reviews (and for being so patient).

Creelluka: More like make sure certain people are no longer in a position to help against Voldemort's side (but in Voldy terms, yes, kill them). Hmmm... What does a teenage David Tennant look like? But yes, Barty's sweet :)TheSlytherinPrincess041301: Thanks so much for your review, and glad the thing made sense!

Asho-Caro-Lynn: Yes, poor James never did have a good sense of timing, did he? Happy to hear you liked the impersonator scheme! (I have to admit it was a little extreme)Guest: The Polyjuice is red because it represents Emma: she's passionate, and there's always some kind of emotion bubbling under the surface, whether it's anger or something else. It's also vibrant, because she enjoys excitement, etc... I thought of Harry's being golden, and wondered what colour suited Emma best. If you have a better colour, please leave it as a comment! :)

xXRosexScorpiusXx: Thanks for your great review as always, and yes, Barty is trying out his unique skill set at a young age (but for a price).

Williukea: thanks for your PM, I will be replying later today ;)

19irene96, nxg, Mysterious guest, Nai and Winterlover6, thanks so much for your comments! They're much appreciated!

And of course, thanks everyone who followed/favourited/read this far! Onto the long-awaited chap!

'I can't quite believe that we're doing this,' Emma shook her head in disbelief.

They were in a pub not unlike the Leaky Cauldron in Inverness, discussing their plan. They had managed to scrounge another map of the area off of the innkeeper, which was currently spread across Emma's bed in their little room, the Dark Lord's one just next to it. Regulus had dragged his across slightly and was sprawled along the side of his, whereas Emma was sitting up, resting their notes on her legs as she jotted down useful information. Books cluttered the area around them - apparently Regulus's Sunday afternoon had been spent stealing books on Giants from the library. According to one of them, the highlands populated by giants were about a day due west: a spot now circled in red ink. Luckily, he had also thought of the Four-Point spell before they left, and they were pretty certain they'd be able to get there easily enough.

'You'd better start,' he replied grimly. 'Any idea on what you're going to say?'

'Dunno,' she replied. 'I thought I would wing it.'

This time it was Regulus who shook his head in disbelief. He pulled out one of the books he had been making her revise - about the Gurgs and tribes of Scotland. Sometimes Emma forgot that his favourite class was History of Magic. How he didn't get teased more often for that was beyond her, but she couldn't deny its usefulness.

'Who's the current Gurg of the Fachen tribe?'

'Hurrok,' Emma replied, hitting her head against the headboard of her bed. They had been over this a thousand times already.

'And he came to power...?'

'By not only killing the old Gurg, but also his wife and children.'

'And in his spare time he enjoys...?'

'Grabbing Muggle climbers off the side of the mountain and eating them,' Emma suppressed a shudder. 'He's one of the only Giants to eat humans.'

'And your plan is to wing it.'

He stared at her, unimpressed. Emma puffed up her cheeks and let out a long sigh. She felt like her brain was going numb. She also knew that she was better at assessing situations as they arose, rather than Regulus's meticulous planning. It was even taking a toll on the boy, she could see his eyes starting to close in tiredness.

'Come on, take my mind off it,' she stated. 'Tell me a story.'

'What, like the Beedle the Bard?' he snorted.

'No,' she rolled her eyes. 'Like the one about the Bloody Baron. Something you've found out from listening to Binns - you're probably the only person in the history of Hogwarts to continue that class in NEWTs.'

'That's because you can't concentrate for more than five consecutive minutes,' he gave her his best Black smirk, but obliged her, turning the light off.

Emma grinned into the darkness and snuggled down in her bed, shoving all of the books onto the floor with a clang. She could almost see his disapproving glare, but it made her want to laugh all the more.

'The Dementor's kiss is one of the worst punishments known to the wizarding world. Dying gives you a choice: to go on to what can be found after death, or to return as a ghost, forever living a half-life in the mortal realm. The Dementors can take that choice away from you, sucking your soul as you still live and breathe, leaving nothing but an empty shell in its wake. Once, a criminal wizard escaped as he was being sentenced to the kiss. This man was so dangerous that a whole horde of Dementors was sent after him. In a desperate attempt to escape, he stole a rowing boat and rowed as fast as he could to an island far out to sea. Maybe he thought the Dementors would give up, maybe he thought they couldn't cross the sea. Either way, he was horribly wrong, for as you know: Dementors are nothing if not relentless.

'They caught up with him the minute his foot touched the beach, but the story did not end there. There was a colony of goblins, unbeknownst to man, living peacefully on the island. Goblins are not allowed wands, and were forced to see loved ones submitted to the kiss whilst watching helplessly from the sidelines. With the coming of midday, the Dementors retreated to the shadows, biding their time. Ragnok the Silver-handed was known for his ability to combine magic and steel together into a unique purpose. He set all of the villagers to work in order to speed up the process. Eventually a sickle was made, later known as the Sickle of Darkness. It could slice through anything, but Ragnok knew it would not be enough.

'First, he took a three drops of blood from his left arm, to symbolise the giving of his body. Next, he gathered every piece of gold he had - and you know how much goblins love their gold - and ordered the villagers to melt it. When the blade was gilded with his fortune, he took each memory of his wife and daughter from his mind and imbued them into the sickle, his love given to the creation of the weapon. Finally, with tears in his eyes, he committed the worst crime a person can, slashing his wife's throat and ripping apart his soul. This sin bound his soul to the blade, but his guilt was too much to bear. He turned the sickle to himself and gave up any hope of redeeming himself of his crime, forcing him to remain between worlds, unable to do anything but replay his crime over and over again.

'However when the Dementors returned, they were drawn to his daughter's pain. Mourning over the loss of her two parents, she picked up the first thing to hand to try and ward them off: the sickle. Much to her surprise, the weapon made contact and the Dementor burst in a shower of light. She wielded it against the rest and soon made short work of them. In order to enable the sickle to cut apart a soulless creature, Ragnok had to give his very soul to the weapon. Or so the legend goes.'

His voice faded into the night and he was almost certain his friend had fallen asleep before she spoke.

'How is it that someone so silent and secretive could keep such wondrous stories memorized in his head? I hardly ever hear you speak two consecutive sentences, and yet you have all of this locked away. Why do you keep everything so hidden away?' Emma finally let out the question that had been eating at her since they met.

'I collect stories,' he replied, as if it were obvious. 'I don't give them away.'

'Then why tell me?'

'Because you asked.'

The next day saw them up at the crack of dawn, trekking up the Mòruisg mountain towards the giant encampment. They had been exiled to the mount when wizards had magically enchanted the top of it: making Muggles believe that it was smaller than it actually was. To a Muggle, it would appear easy to climb, getting turned around when they reached the half-way mark. This made sure that they were never exposed to the giants' ruthlessness and Hurrok's greed. However, the climb would not be so easy for a wizard. Emma thanked Merlin for her rigorous Quidditch training, but she was still struggling when Regulus called for a break near midday.

As he passed her a bottle of water, she realised that she was exhausted and sweaty: not the way she wanted to look in front of Regulus, and certainly not the way she wanted to present herself to the Gurg. She needed to look as though the trip was effortless. If there was one thing the Dark Lord had taught her, it was that there was power in appearance. She needed to give out waves of confidence, as though the thought that the giants wouldn't join hadn't even occurred to her. Plus, she wouldn't be able to think straight by the time they reached the caves near the top.

'Reg,' she said, still panting slightly. 'What would happen if I tried to Summon something from the castle?'

To his credit he gave her no incredulous look, simply frowning slightly as he thought. 'Well some wizards say that it's harder to summon things the further away they are. But most say that you just need to picture the object clearly in your mind. Why, did you forget someth-'

'Accio Nimbus 1001s,' Emma said deliberately, picturing their racing brooms, imagining the grain of the wood beneath her fingers. Unconsciously, she flexed them, as though she were going to take up her broom there and then.

Regulus raised his eyebrows at her, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by two brooms zooming towards them. Emma's face lit up like a child's in a candy store. Regulus's jaw dropped.

'How did they even get here so fast?' he asked wonderingly. 'Wait, this isn't mine! I nicked mine on the stands once when I fell.' He showed her the smooth surface near the tail-brush.

'Maybe Inverness is starting their own Quidditch team,' Emma grinned, tying her hair out of her face. 'Now this should go a lot faster.'

Before he could utter a protest, she swung a leg over the broomstick and flew in the direction of the mountains. Why didn't I think of this sooner? she asked herself, enjoying the cool breeze. Nothing beat flying. In less than an hour they had spotted shapes moving down below. Regulus made a downwards motion with his hand, the wind being too strong to hear. She pulled her scarf tighter around her face. That's right, Giants are supposed to be afraid of sudden displays of magic. Well…Here it goes.

They alighted on the hill overlooking the valley's encampment, stashed everything but the boots in a small cave and walked down to the centre of the camp. Even the smallest of these Giants could crush me like a bug, Emma thought, looking at them curiously, though she made sure not to stare. She had never seen one up close before. Most of them stood at over twenty feet tall. She had thought that they would be like over-sized humans, but most of them had rounded, bulbous features and pot bellies. However, that didn't fool her. Their arms and legs, thick as tree trunks, were large and sinewy, their feet calloused from walking barefoot on the harsh mountain terrain. A couple of goats were roasting on spits above log fires. She couldn't help but glance at her travelling companion; he seemed as unperturbed as if he were walking through a spring meadow. Right, confidence. That's the key. Soon they arrived at a sort of clearing: an enormous bonfire surrounded by tree stumps and large logs and stones. She supposed that it was a meeting-place of sorts.

'I wish to speak to the Gurg,' she said loudly, sounding better than she felt. 'Does anyone speak English here? It's important.'

There was a bit of scuffling in the pack that had started to follow them and an enormous twenty-five-foot tall giant with tusks instead of canines. Something that the descriptions in the books failed to mention: he only had one leg. Emma tried not to stare, concentrating on staring him in the face in what she hoped was an assured manner.

'I have come on the behalf of the Dark Lord Voldemort,' she said, clearly enunciating every word. 'He wishes to bring a gift, for the might of Hurrok is legend in the wizarding world.'

It was not false: everyone had heard of the people-eating giant in the mountains. Flattery seemed like the right way to go though, because the Gurg had made no move to kill her yet. She would even go as far as to think he was smiling, though it was hard to see with the tusks. She drew out the boots, thankful that Regulus had thought of enlarging them on the way down.

'These boots will fit themselves to only a worthy wearer,' she invented wildly, taking cue from Regulus's tales. She saw him shoot her an alarmed look, but continued. 'They will double his strength and speed by half of his original power. The more powerful the wearer, the more powerful the boots. Only one so mighty as the Gurg of the Fachens could manage such a feat.'

She placed the boots on the ground with a bow, backing away. And now we wait, she thought. But the Gurg seemed to have different plans, for he grunted to one of the towering beings, not even moving towards the present. The other giant moved forwards and made a slow shooing movement with large palms.

'The Gurg say you go now,' he said in broken English. 'Come back next day, Gurg see you then.'

That night saw them at the back of their small cave, huddled around Bluebell flames, though even their magic and the mountain's stones couldn't keep the chill out of the Scottish highland air, nor prevent the wind from suddenly gusting in. On top of that, neither knew if Emma's ploy had worked, though both agreed that not having lost their heads was a good sign. All the same, the two teenagers couldn't sleep well into the night. Emma found herself wishing that they had learned the Hot-Air Charm earlier in the year - Flitwick had announced it to be taught in February if they managed to keep up with the curriculum.

That would have been useful right about now, she thought, staring at the dancing shadows on the roof of their cave. Strangely, it was smooth and seamless, with none of the cracks and uneven stone common to natural caves. She wondered if they had been created by giants or humans, deciding that the latter was more probable. Maybe they felt guilty about driving the giants away and this is their attempt at making it up to them. She was saved further thought on the matter when Regulus broke the silence.

'Um... Emma... I- I'm sorry about Saturday,' he stammered out, as though unsure of whether he should speak or not. He was staring into the flames, avoiding eye contact, the faintest hint of a blush on his usually pale cheeks. 'I didn't want you to think... I'm not unsympathetic.'

'You're not unsympathetic,' Emma repeated. What on earth is he going on about?

'I kind of forced you to... What I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry,' he concluded. 'I'm sorry it happened to you and that I got there too late, and I'm sorry I didn't mention that on Saturday. I just didn't know what I could do other than help you with the flying.'

His words hovered in the air for a moment, as though the cave kept them sitting between them, letting them sink in for a second. Emma thought back to that Sorting ceremony so long ago and how it seemed to define their relationship forever onwards: understanding, but not talking, resolving the issue by flying. Hadn't she vowed never to speak to Regulus of the night she accidentally invaded his memories? Every time she discovered some hurt of his, he had actively avoided her so as to not talk about it. Should she mention it now? How could she tell him that she was sorry too?

'I... Thanks,' she ended up saying. 'I'm not unsympathetic either.'

Silence fell again, blanketing each in their own thoughts, but Emma felt that she had to add something, that she needed to convey something to her friend who seemed to always keep everything bottled up.

'I made a Bowtruckle hit Sirius in the face with a snowball,' she remembered.

Regulus's peal of laughter echoing through the cave was a good enough reply.

Miraculously, they had managed to grab two or three hours of sleep. The following morning saw the two sixteen year olds warily make their way back into the giant fold. By the time they approached the Gurg's encampment, a plan had formed in Emma's mind. It was risky, but Regulus agreed that he thought it might work, through muttered replies. Just in case, they had infused their snake-puzzles with hexes and get-away spells over breakfast. Emma held hers tightly in her left hand, slightly hidden by her scarf.

This time Hurrok was waiting for them at the centre of a group of giants. He patted the huge stone next to him and Emma found herself hoisted up onto it. If she stood, then they were of an equal height, but she would have to be careful. Any sudden movement could see her breaking a leg or worse. Lucky I'm not afraid of heights, she thought. She couldn't help but notice that he was wearing the boots.

'The Gurg has hear of Lord Voldemort. Good things,' the translator said from behind her. 'What does Lord Voldemort want of the Gurg?'

'The Dark Lord believes that all magical creatu... beings have a right to the world as much as the Muggles. Why should we hide away, just because they're weak?' She knew from Regulus's lessons that Giants were very big on strength. 'This Ministry has failed us. They look at Giants with hatred, they think you are stupid and need to be controlled and monitored. They have spoken of destroying Giants altogether.'

At this the Gurg roared and stood, taking a step in her direction. Instinctively she stumbled back and was saved from falling off the ledge by Regulus shoving her back forwards. She shot him a thank you glance and noticed that he was gripping his wand beneath his sleeve. She hadn't even noticed him being lifted up next to her.

'Lord Voldemort doesn't want that!' she had to yell to make herself heard. Her heart was pounding and she knew that she was taking a risk. She had spoken of her plan to Regulus, who had an Apparition plan ready just in case. However that would mean failure worse than not trying; it would mean incompetence. 'He wants to get rid of the Ministry and all of their doctrines. He wants a strong, magical leadership. He wants Giants to go wherever they want, not stay confined to caves in the mountains.'

Hurrok shoved his head next to hers, his breath so strong that she had to brace herself from the wind... and the smell.

'That's why he hopes that Hurrok, Gurg of the Fachens, will use this Sickle of Darkness by the Dark Lord's side when he takes control of the country.'

She unwrapped the sickle from its trappings. Again, Regulus cast a surreptitious engorgement charm for it to fit the hand of a Giant. Emma found herself barely able to lift it, until Regulus muttered "Wingardium Leviosa" next to her. At first Hurrok looked impressed at her "strength", before his eyebrows met dangerously in the middle and he growled something intelligible.

'The Gurg ask why he use "Sickle" when he has weapons and hands of own. Do wizards think Giants need help fighting?' the interpreter asked menacingly.

'Try it out: it can slay even a Dementor,' Emma managed to squeak out. 'That's something bare hands can't.'

The other giant spoke and the Gurg looked at her for a long while. She waited with baited breath, the tension raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She was reaching into her pocket for the head-part of her snake puzzle, maybe it was time to Apparate out of here, when suddenly a hand lurched forwards to grab the Sickle. In one fluid motion, the Gurg beheaded one of his attendants. Emma blinked and felt her heart start to beat in her throat, backing into Regulus and grabbing his arm.

'On the count of three, think of the Three Broomsticks,' he whispered. 'One...Two...'

The Gurg roared with laughter, his tusks rubbing against his top lip in an alarming way. Blood trickled down his chin, but he didn't seem to mind. Soon many Giants joined in, and the interpreter leaned forwards to explain, grinning with his square, yellow teeth the size of Emma's hands.

'The Gurg say that giant stole his food. He say: if Sickle cut Giant steel like soft flesh, Gurg finally cut seat the way he want it.'

Emma and Regulus shared a confused look, but just then Hurrok swept the sickle along the stone he was sitting on, making it completely flat. He then made a show of sitting down, swinging the Sickle onto his shoulder. Several attendants jerked their heads back in alarm, for fear of being beheaded. Emma took a deep breath to calm herself before attempting to speak.

'So the Gurg likes the gift?' she asked hopefully. The giant translated.

Hurrok's big head swung forwards once more, until Emma found herself face to face with beady yellow eyes.

'Gurg like de gift,' he grunted, jutting his blood-red fangs out in content.

'I'm not going back there tomorrow,' Regulus said, shaking his head.

They had respectfully walked out of the encampment with their heads held high, as though it had been nothing more than they had expected. Once out of sight, they had hightailed it back to their secluded cave, gasping for breath and wondering how they had made it out alive.

'I'm not asking you to,' Emma shuddered, dousing out the fire. 'Let the Gurg play with his new toy for a while: I'm sure the Dark Lord will hear of it.'

Surely the Dark Lord doesn't expect a sixteen-year old to bring back the giants as proof, she thought. I don't even know where he keeps his army, when he isn't assaulting the Ministry.

'Let's get out of here.'

'Couldn't agree with you more,' Emma said. 'Good thing we signed up for those apparition classes!'

She pictured Hogsmeade clearly in her head and started to turn on the spot.

'Wait!' Regulus grabbed her arm. 'Don't you think it would be a little suspicious for the Ministry to detect underage magic near the mountains? We created the Bluebell flames in the inn, and there's so much magic hiding the encampment that they wouldn't have noticed anything, but here...'

'Oh right,' Emma's face fell as she lowered her wand. 'Back to brooms and trains?'

'I'm afraid so.'