Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Chapter 7: Giants

Lupin was still sleeping soundly when Harry woke up. He looked ill. Harry was careful to be quiet around him.

He was wandered the tent some more, rifling through every book and magazine he could find in hopes of another note from himself. But no more notes were to be found. Apparently that had been the first and the last of them. Maybe they had even interrupted him to obliviate him.

Finally, after perhaps half an hour of looking, he gave up and decided to wander around outdoors instead. It was cold, but he still had the brown coat, and there was a pair of gloves in the pocket. It wasn't especially warm, but then, he wasn't especially cold.

He hadn't walked far when he was stopped by Galba.

"Wouldn't want to wander off that way," Galba said. "Not unless you want to be ripped to shreds by giants, anyway. They're very territorial. Hate intruders."

"Oh," Harry said.

"Feel free to wander the camp," Galba said. "But don't leave it. If the giants don't get you, you'll get lost in the mountains. " He gave Harry a grin. It was obviously meant to be comforting. Harry didn't trust it one bit.

Instead of wandering, Harry went back to the tent he was staying in and checked on Lupin. He'd woken up now, and Harry could hear the water running in the shower. Maybe he was feeling better.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, when Lupin wandered into the living area. While his face looked a little less grey than it had before, he still didn't look well.

"Yes," Lupin said. He sat heavily in a chair at the table. "They've been giving me a potion, for my condition. I should be grateful, I know, but it has certain undesirable side-effects."

It took Harry a moment to realize that the "condition" was being a werewolf. Lycanthropy, that was the technical word, wasn't it?

"So the potion stops you from turning into a wolf, then?"

"It does."

"I thought there was no cure?"

"So did I. They seem to have developed one."

Harry thought about this for a moment. "So- they have to have researchers working for them, to have done that. Probably a lot of researchers."

Lupin nodded. "And funding. And curing lycanthropy is hardly their main goal. I can't even imagine how large their organization must be."

It was only then that Harry realized that Lupin had sidestepped the original question.

"What side-effects does this potion have?"

"Tiredness," Lupin said. "An inability to stay warm. Minor, irritating things. It's enough to make me feel unwell, but not near enough to kill me. Don't worry about that."

"It's worth it, then?" Harry asked. "Even feeling awful like that?"

Lupin looked surprised at the question. "Of course," he said. "Anything would be better than being a werewolf."

Harry was not so certain. Maybe it was different, being a vampire; but given a choice between that and the long weeks of illness, of growing certainty that he was going to die- he would pick this. It wasn't even a choice. Even captured, even with no friends anywhere near, this was better.

Being a werewolf must be much worse than being a vampire, he thought. And Lupin must look a lot worse than he feels.

But having thought that, he couldn't quite bring himself to believe it. Lupin looked terrible, and as for being a werewolf- well, werewolves were still human, except once a month. They still ate, still slept at normal hours. They could go to school, and have jobs, even if it was a bit difficult for them because of stupid laws. They were allowed.

Saying so wouldn't make Lupin feel any better, though, so Harry kept his thoughts to himself.

Around noon, Galba brought in some books and dumped them on the table in front of Harry. "You'll need to read these," he said. "I want a report on giants by the end of the week."

"A report on what about giants?" Harry asked. He didn't bother questioning the assignment. There had been schoolbooks on the shelf. Clearly, he was expected to learn here. To what end, he wasn't sure.

"Everything about giants," Galba said. "Height. Eating habits. Best methods of killing. Laws about- Pay special attention to laws, current and past- culture. Everything."

"How long should it be?"

"As long as it needs to be, to fit everything you can fit."

Galba put a large sack on the table as well. "Food for you, Lupin," he said. "Your potion should be in there somewhere."

Then he left, as abruptly as he had come.

Harry didn't start working on the report right away. Instead, he took a nap. It was bright out, and the light was making him sleepy, like a cat in a sunbeam.

Which was funny, really- Doctor Brown had said that he was almost a full vampire, but the sunlight wasn't having nearly the effect it was supposed to have on him. Where was the blinding intensity, the permanent damage? It was a little uncomfortable, but nothing like what the books had described.

He decided to ask the doctor next time he saw him.

It was late afternoon when he woke again. It was beginning to get dark out.

If I were still at Hogwarts, Harry thought, I would be getting ready to run away. The curse specialist was going to come tomorrow morning.

Ron and Hermione were probably worried sick about him. He hadn't even left a note, or said goodbye. The only thing he'd left was the note that the vampires had left him, saying to meet in the forest. And since he wasn't in the forest anymore, it wasn't even accurate.

Well. He would have to get them a message, somehow. Escaping didn't seem very urgent, yet (where would he go?), but getting a message out was.

Over the next few days, he kept his eyes open for an owl. He hadn't seen any, and it made him wonder how the vampires sent letters. They had to send some; it would be absurd to wage war without some way to talk to others.

He also made a point of asking Doctor Brown about his vision, when he next saw him.

"That?" Doctor Brown said. "Oh, we worked out how to stop that from happening. A potion, taken frequently, combined with a slow transformation- didn't you wonder what the chocolate bars were for? Of course, it would have worked better if you'd taken it exactly once a day. I'm afraid you'll always be a little sensitive to light, still, among other things- but not as bad as the rest of us, I must say! The next step. I never thought I'd live to see the day when I could call us a true species, but we're working our way there, one bit at a time." Then he bustled off, in an awful hurry for something or other. Harry had no idea what Doctor Brown did all day (vampires were almost never ill, and Harry had trouble imagining that enough were injured to keep his time occupied, even in a camp this size) but he always seemed like he was short on time.

Maybe he was one of those researchers, working on a cure for something or another. Or perhaps he brewed Lupin's potion.

It wasn't just Brown that seemed busy all of the time, though. Everyone was always bustling around, at every hour of the day and night, carrying packages or patching a tent that had a hole, or bringing Lupin some food (not as often as they ought to, so Harry tried to keep track of how much there was in the cupboards, and remind someone when supplies were running low).

They kept him busy, too, making him write report after report on giants, and testing him constantly. It was like school, but more demanding. They gave him more blood when he did well, and less when he did poorly, and since hunger for blood was startlingly strong, he learned to do well. He would have compared it to the Dursleys for the withholding of food, but the tasks the vampires set him were possible, unlike Aunt Petunia's giant list of chores. This was to be preferred.

"Why do you care so much, anyway?" Harry asked, after about a week.

"These are things you'll need to know by heart, someday," Galba said. "You'll thank me later. One day, you'll be a great diplomat."

Harry very much doubted this, but remembering the note he had written to himself, and seeing the beginnings of annoyance in Galba's eyes, he said nothing.

Lupin seemed to get better for a while, but after a couple of weeks, worsened. Probably due to the phases of the moon, Harry decided. Hadn't it been near full moon, when he'd looked worst? The potions were keeping him from changing into a wolf, but the moon was still having an effect on him.

Harry kept careful track of the time that passed. He drew himself a calendar, and put it on the wall. The lines were crooked, and the dates barely legible, but it served. (Though Lupin, flipping through it during one idle afternoon, had needed to remind Harry that there were thirty-one days in March, not thirty)

On the day exactly one month after Harry arrived at the vampire camp, he had not yet seen a single owl. He was beginning to despair of ever sending a message to Ron and Hermione.

They probably thought he was dead.

Then came the day when Lupin wouldn't wake up. He was very pale, and seemed to be having trouble breathing. Harry fetched Doctor Brown straight away, and they forced some potions down his throat, and that made some of his color return.

Harry heard Doctor Brown mutter to himself about decreasing doses, and interactions, and various other things, but none of it made any sense, so he focused on Lupin and ignored Brown.

He hadn't realized until this moment just how much he relied on Lupin. They talked sometimes, about Harry's parents, or Lupin's friend Pettigrew, who had died soon after Harry's parents had. But even if they had never said so much as good morning to each other, they stood with each other against the vampires. Harry wouldn't have been able to stand it here, on his own. He would be too alone. He didn't even know the names of any of the people here, other than Galba.

So, after one month and six days of staying with the vampires, Harry decided it was time to leave. He began looking for escape routes.

His chance came sooner than he had imagined possible.

"There's one giant tribe left," Galba said to him, that very afternooon. "They're a small group, and probably the least important to our plans. It's time to see if you're up to the task of diplomacy."

They left the very next morning. Luckily, the giants were close enough to walk to. Harry didn't think he could stand side-along Apparition again.

Galba came, and the blonde woman who had given Harry his coat on that first day. Marissa, he had heard someone call her since.

It was very cold. Harry's hands were numb after a few minutes walking. A few minutes searching in the pockets of his coat gave him a pair of gloves. Underneath the gloves, he felt something else- a crumpled piece of paper.

Was it another note? He didn't dare take it out. He didn't dare let anything show on his face. He put the gloves on, and tried not to think about it.

Instead, he tried to remember everything he had read over the past month about giants. Did they have to bring a gift for the leader of the giants- the grog- every time, or just the first time they contacted the tribe? Neither Galba nor Marissa seemed to be carrying anything, so he decided that it was only the first time.

He thought for a moment about sabotaging this talk, of doing his worst and most offensive job at it, but soon squelched the thought. The note had said not to anger Galba- and even if he did sabotage this, what good would it do? Galba had been very clear that this wasn't an important talk.

No. He would do his best, this time. And if an opportunity presented itself, maybe he would do something then. He still hadn't made up his mind. Certainly he wasn't harboring any fond feelings for these vampires, but- they were trying to establish equal rights for magical creatures, even if they were doing it in a way he didn't agree with. Was it his job to stop it?

It was all very confusing, and he wished Ron and Hermione were there. It was like missing a piece of his brain. He'd find himself having imaginary conversations with them, but his imagination always failed when he asked them for advice on what to do.

After a good twenty minutes of walking, they finally arrived at the giant's camp.

"I'll do most of the talking," Marissa said as they approached. "You're just here to watch, really. We brought the grog gifts last week, and by now he should have had time to think things over."

The terrain was very rocky here- not small rocks, either, but huge hillocks, just barely too small to be called mountains. They walked over the top of one of these, and saw the giants.

They were huge. But that wasn't what caught Harry's attention. Because standing in front of Harry, apparently about to walk into the giant encampment with a gift in his hands, was Hagrid.

There was a moment when Harry froze, but then he was running faster than he had ever run before.

"Hagrid!" he said. "Hagrid, it's me!"
Hagrid turned, slowly- at least, it seemed slowly, but perhaps Harry was moving so quickly that Hagrid only seemed slow in comparison.

"'Arry?" Hagrid said. "What're ya doin' 'ere?"

Hagrid caught Harry up in a huge hug. But there was no time for explanations. Marissa and Galba caught up almost immediately.

"Harry," Galba said. "Get back here."

Harry did no such thing. "It's Hagrid," he said. Then, turning back to Hagrid, he said, "You won't believe all that's happened to me- it's insane-"

Galba moved so quickly that he was a blur. Harry had the horrible sensation that his arm was being pulled off as Galba grabbed him and pulled him away.

"Hagrid!" Harry said. But he was being dragged away still, and Marissa was holding Hagrid back- it would have been funny in other circumstances, the small blonde physically retraining Hagrid- and then they were once again over the hill and Hagrid was out of sight.

"You are not to talk to anyone you know," Galba said, almost in a hiss. "We have plans in place. You'll disturb them. Do I make myself clear?"

"You're hurting me," Harry said, in what was meant to be an angry voice but actually ended up as more of a whimper. His shoulder, when he looked at it, looked funny. Dislocated, maybe. It hurt badly, to say the least. He had been jerked so fast- and Galba was still gripping his arm much too tightly.

Galba's grip loosened slightly, so that it only barely hurt. The shoulder was still excruciatingly painful.

"We're going to obliviate him, you realize," Galba said. "He's a half-giant, so it won't be easy. They're resistant to spells. We might wipe more than we intend. We might damage his mind. If you'd stayed back, this wouldn't have happened."

"My shoulder," Harry said, in too much pain to absorb the lecture. "It hurts."

Galba looked at it. "Good," he said. He smiled grimly. "That should hammer in the lesson all the better. You don't do anything without permission, either from me or from… others." Harry got the impression that he had meant to say something quite different, but couldn't think about it long, because at that moment, Galba started to walk away, pulling Harry along by his damaged arm.

The pace on the way back was brutal; it was halfway between a run and a walk, and Harry couldn't quite get it right, so that he was constantly falling behind, then catching up- and in falling behind, his arm was pulled.

The walk back seemed much, much longer it had been in the other direction. Galba finally released him outside Doctor Brown's tent.

"Fix yourself up," he said. "And next time, don't be so hasty."

The arm was, indeed, dislocated. Setting it to rights was just as painful as dislocating it had been, if not worse.

"Not quite transformed yet," Doctor Brown said, with a sigh. "Or maybe the potions we gave you had another effect, made you more human, more prone to injury. They weren't tested enough, but there wasn't time- well, what's done is done, and we'll soon see. But still- a bit of injury would be worth it, to take back the day, wouldn't it?"

Harry nodded absently.

"Here- have some blood. You aren't going to recover properly if you don't eat right!"

Harry took the blood that was offered. As always, it was labeled AB positive, and in a plastic pouch.

"Where does this come from?"

"Oh, blood banks and hospitals. I'm sorry to say that there wouldn't be such a need for it in muggle hospitals, if we weren't around. Still- we only take what is least needed. Do you know about blood types, at all?"

Harry didn't, of course, not having gone to muggle school since he was ten years old.

"Well- I'll spare you the details. But AB positive blood can only go to patients who themselves have the blood type AB positive- and those patients are able to accept any other type of blood. So this is the least useful of all the blood types. We're still draining the supply, but we're trying to do as little harm as possible while we do it. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded. "Better than getting it directly, I suppose."

"There are still some of us who advocate that. But it attracts too much attention. Once, the muggles were isolated, each group in their little village. Now they live in huge cities. They have mobile phones, and news programs. It doesn't matter how fast we are; if we eat like animals, we will be caught like animals. Even to be caught on film would be problematic. It just isn't practical anymore, not in this area of the world."

Harry nodded again.

"Besides," Doctor Brown said. "I've rather lost my taste for screaming victims. This is much cleaner."

He stood. Harry had finished his blood.

"Off to bed with you," he said. "Be careful of that shoulder for a few hours."

Harry left, troubled.

On one hand, there were vampires like Doctor Brown- a bit odd, and perhaps a few cards short of a full deck at times, but not evil.

And then there was Galba.

If they were willing to damage Hagrid, just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, than this was going to be a very ugly war. The good vampires wouldn't be able to stop it. They would try to make it humane, but it would be useless, because Harry could tell that arguing with Galba was likely to get you hurt, or maybe killed.

Well, Harry wasn't going to be any part of this. He was going to get away. He didn't know where, he didn't know how, but he was going to. He had to.

And then, he was going to stop them. Because someone had to protect the Hagrids of the world.

-

A/N:

Yes, I fail at Hagrid's accent.

Please Review!