Harry Potter and the Berserker

Chapter 55

Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing

Voldemort had thought the night would have been an easy one. He had temporarily left the safe house that was Malfoy Manor to travel north to meet with some of the last remaining tribes of giants currently alive in the United Kingdom. He knew that giants, no matter which tribe, respected strength above all else and he would meet with them personally since none of his followers magic could possibly compare to his own.

It was something that could be considered a menial task for someone of his power and status, but aside from strength, giants did value a leader who would fight their own battles instead of relying on followers. It was a trait that these giants had carried over from their close relatives in the more Nordic territories, the once great giants of frost and ice. But these giants were far less cultured than their Nordic brethrens.

Their camp, if it could even be called as such, was feeble, an easy target for another tribe of giants should the other attack. There giants were still massive, but seemed innately dumber than he would have ever expected. No doubt, it was due to actions put forth by the Ministry; killing giants had reduced their population by so much that they seemed to have taken to inbreeding to sustain their population. Or they might have even mated with humans like the mother of that great oaf of a gamekeeper, Hagrid. It was disgrace enough to have to be a creature of such low intelligence, being a half-breed of such would be an unbearable humiliation.

But, the thing that did impress Voldemort, albeit only slightly, was their tenacity for violence. In terms of strength, they could make up an entire division of his growing army alone, with only a few of his Death Eaters having to stay on as guards and shepards to make sure that they stayed on point with their given assignment. On the contrast, it was the reason behind the violence that led to his skepticism of using such creatures; they were violent over just about everything.

By Merlin, he saw one rip another's head off for supposedly stealing a goat. And that led to the mother of the now dead giant coming out and bashing the head of the other giant in with a club. It was really no different than seeing a couple of trolls hit each other with their clubs, and that had been the first sight he had seen upon arriving just outside of the camp. But from what legends and old folk tales told of giants, these actions were relatively tame by those standards, and it wasn't as if they were all that surprising to him anyhow.

Yes, they could be useful and surly a match for anyone who was trying to safeguard Potter. Voldemort briefly reflected on what the other apostle, Zodd, had told him before he had left the city of the God Hand to return back to headquarters; how Potter was supposedly in the company of one called the "Black Swordsman" who could fight like a vicious hellhound. What's more, this man was just a mere mundane human, nothing special about him in the slightest. Yet both apostles Zodd and Locus seemed to speak in tones that conveyed implication of an unknown danger, and in the former's case, a sense of admiration.

Voldemort had not pestered either of them before leaving the city with his followers, but if he was so dangerous he could make two other apostles waver in their own power and confidence, they were either weaker than they cared to admit, or, the Black Swordsman was the real deal. But if this swordsman was truly just an ordinary man, he could be killed just as easily as one, albeit, with some difficulty.

The thought of his pseudo-apostle Death Eaters being so easily humiliated came to the forefront of his mind as well. Loathe as he was to admit it, the hulking apostle did have truth to his words when he said that Voldemort and his followers possessed great power but lacked the skill and knowledge to master it. And with that, came the other reason for his visit here tonight.