Heroes of Humanity

"Impervius," Oleandra whispered, grasping her wand hidden in her coat pocket.

It was another bleak winter day… much to Wanderer's chagrin, since his primitive winter clothes weren't waterproof. Still, even though his drenched furs felt absolutely miserable clinging to his skin, it was a far cry better than wearing nothing— the rain felt like icy needles on his exposed bits.

"How is it," he loved to complain, "that it feels warmer here when it's snowing than when it's raining?"

Oleandra opened her mouth to respond— but just as she was about to tell him to keep a stiff upper lip, she suddenly shoved him and shouted, "Watch out!"

Wanderer's eyes widened in surprise as he toppled backward, landing hard on the ground— just as a large brown object flashed past him, hitting the earth with a heavy thud. Blinking in confusion, he sat up and looked to where he had just been standing— there, lying in a shallow crater in the mud, were the remains of the hind end of a woolly highland cow.

"Does it also rain bovines on this ruddy island!?" shouted Wanderer, shaking his fist at the heavens. "What next!? Frogs, perhaps?"

Oleandra had heard of raining cats and dogs, but cows? That was new…

"I can hear fighting nearby," said Oleandra worriedly, pricking up her ears.

"I dunno how you can hear anything with those things you call earmuffs covering your ears," grumbled Wanderer morosely, "but I can't hear anything… ah, wait— now I can hear it as well…"

Before hearing anything, the first thing Oleandra had noticed was how the ground trembled underfoot, almost as if there was a localised earthquake occurring in the region. But earthquakes didn't throw cows into the air, did they? That was more of a tornado thing, but British tornados lacked the kind of oomph American tornados possessed— they couldn't lift anything heavier than roof tiles.

Funnily enough, drunk Tutshill Tornados fans would cause more damage to infrastructure every year than actual tornados themselves, on average! Even though most Tornados supporters were just posers who'd jumped on the bandwagon because the team started winning the British and Irish Quidditch League many times in a row… in Tracey's opinion.

"Those aren't the sounds of fighting," said Wanderer, putting a hand to his ear. "A one-sided massacre, more like."

A guttural roar echoed through the valley, and Oleandra and Wanderer looked at each other knowingly. In Oleandra's era, Giants had been banished to the remotest corners of the planet, but in this time period, they still lived wherever there were mountains in Britain.

"Giants," said Oleandra gravely. "The Yorkshire Dales are just north of here— they must have come down from the mountains to replenish their larders…"

Food was scarce in the winter, so the Giants must have got hungry in their mountain caves, smelling the aromas drifting in from the Muggle villages at the foot of their homes. Today was the winter solstice, so the Muggles would have been celebrating Yule with festivals and feasts…

"Stay here," Wanderer said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Muggles don't stand a chance against those monsters, and neither do you."

A complex expression flickered across Oleandra's face as she watched Wanderer's figure grow smaller, disappearing into the distance as he ran toward danger. What would happen to the present if she saved lives that were meant to end today? Would random people appear from nowhere, descendants who should never have been? So far, her actions hadn't caused any noticeable changes to the present... but with time, one could never be certain.

The bleating of terrified farm animals and the screams of women and children continued tearing through the air. Oleandra clenched her fists— try as she might, she could not ignore the cries ringing in her ear. What good was power if you could not use it?

"Oh, Hel," Oleandra muttered to herself as she broke into a sprint.

Within moments, the dense forest and its branches and roots and brambles were behind her, and she was tearing across a field, kicking up mud as she ran. In the distance, she could see thatched roofs covered in bracken and columns of smoke rising into the sky. Gigantic figures moved among the houses, seizing the straw rooftops and lifting them up to see what lied underneath— as if popping the lid off a tin to reach for the biscuits within.

She could see Wanderer twirling his spear and thrusting it at a Giant's repulsive toes, where toenail met flesh. The Giant he had attacked was shouting in anger and in pain, searching for the culprit amidst the rubble and crushing fleeing villagers underfoot to vent his frustration.

"FOUND YOU, LITTLE HUMAN!" said the Giant, scooping up Wanderer with surprising speed, considering his immense size. "NICE TOOTHPICK!"

Oleandra drew her wand and pointed it at the fist clenched tightly around her companion, chanting, "Relashio!"

Despite his resilience to magic, the Giant's grip loosened slightly upon getting struck by Oleandra's spell. Wanderer slipped out of his grasp, plummeting from a height of thirty feet, forcing Oleandra to use a Slowing Charm to break his fall.

"Arresto Momentum!" shouted Oleandra.

"WIZARDS!" trumpeted one of the uglier Giants furiously. "I HATE MAGIC!"

Giants had nothing to fear from regular Muggles, whose bronze and iron weapons could not even break their skin. However, dealing with spellcasters was much trickier, for even though Giants could resist most of their spells, Wizards could still find other ways of causing them harm…

"Thanks," said Wanderer breathlessly, as he floated down to the ground. "But I'm afraid you've attracted the rest's attention… I was hoping to avoid that."

Even though they lived in tribes in modern times, that was only because they were forced to live bunched up together in reserves by Wizards. They much preferred solitude to each other because of their violent tendencies, so luckily, only three of them had come down from the mountains together to feast on this settlement's cattle.

"I've beaten a Dragon before," said Oleandra, slowly backing away from the approaching Giants while terrified villagers fled their homes behind her. "How bad could three Giants be?"