Here's the second part of Book 2! Warnings and the like are the same as before.
Luke stayed at Hogwarts for the rest of the summer break. He and Sirius had the full run of the whole castle and the redhead enjoyed the time with his godfather. Without needing to worry about food, Sirius was free to spend all of every day with his godson. Luke was glad to have an adult that accepted him for who he was. Every few days Sirius would vanish from the grounds, presumably looking for the ever-elusive door to Luke's world. The days he spent with Luke, however, were spent teaching Luke the finer arts of what he called "sticking one to Snape."
Luke learned how to wait in a corridor for Snape to pass, then trip him with magic. He learned how to set traps and be somewhere else when they went off. Above all, he learned just how strange in the head Sirius was.
"I don't enjoy angering someone who made me cough up bugs," he muttered one day while Sirius was liberally decorating a suit of armor in pink and orange potions. Sirius had whistled his way into Snape's storeroom and had come out with an armful of the colored potions. Luke stayed safely out of the way, since he had no desire to learn that one of those potions had odd fumes or effects.
They heard footsteps echoing through the halls and Sirius nodded, dropping the bottles uncaringly on the floor. "Come on, time to get out of here. If it's Snape we'll hear it soon enough."
Luke was away through a hidden door before his godfather even finished his statement. He wasn't finding very much amusement in Sirius' favorite past times, he had to admit. While Sirius was rolling around laughing at Snape's creative swearing, Luke snuck away. After that, he didn't even try to take part in Sirius' childish pranks. He felt that his time was better spent with learning new spells in his secret room.
It was like that that the first day of the noble's second year at this school arrived. This time he wasn't shipped off so he could arrive at the school with the rest of the students, so he was already sitting at the table when Draco, Ron, and Hermione accosted him.
"I thought you were dead," the blonde accused. He was sitting at the Ravenclaw table, it was true, but he was still close enough that he could jab Luke in the head with a spoon. The noble ignored the blunt pain since he figured he deserved it.
"Yeah, mate. What's with running off and leaving us to worry all summer?" Ron frowned at him.
"It's not like I meant to," Luke shrugged, though he really didn't regret it. This past summer was much better than the one he'd had the year before. "I was kidnapped by a crazy man. Again. Why do I always get kidnapped?"
"Stop wandering off on your own and you wouldn't," Hermione scolded him. "But you're here, and safe. So what did you end up doing all summer?"
Luke told them all he could without mentioning Sirius directly, and he made no secret of just how much he'd enjoyed himself. By the time he'd finished the new Sorting had started, so they watched the new students get assigned to their Houses.
The Fabre heir was certain that he was starting to go mad. It had nothing to do with that annoying Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher that he had to tolerate. It seemed like every day, or every other day at the most, he would hear whispering in the halls. It wasn't the students he passed, nor was it the paintings. It seemed like Death's voice was rattling through the old stone around him and it chilled him each time he heard it.
When Muggle-born students started turning to stone, whispered rumors flew around the student body, of an Heir of Slytherin within their midst. These whispers merged with the ones only Luke could hear, putting him on edge. Draco got annoyed at his brooding and dragged him to the newest attraction at Hogwarts - the annoying Lockhart's Dueling Club. Lockhart was the annoying Defense teacher that Luke couldn't stand. Despite that, the blonde knew just how much Luke enjoyed anything involving combat and thought that he'd have fun.
"Plus," Draco snickered as they walked into the Great Hall, "I want to see everyone's face when you just knock them upside the head!"
"How very noble of you," Luke deadpanned. At least the idea of using some of his skills cheered him up a bit.
The Great Hall was packed with excited students. The usual tables were gone, a raised stage having replaced them. Lockhart bumbled about the stage and rambled something that sounded vaguely relevant to the topic at hand. The rest of the gathered students seemed enamored with his goofy demeanor. Snape, the other teacher assigned to this fiasco, shut him up after a moment and regarded the gathered students. As much as Luke disliked the Potions teacher, he was grateful for the interruption.
"This club," he said after a moment of silence, "is a means for you all to practice your combat skills in a controlled environment. I shall give a demonstration of the preferred manner of dueling, and then I will call up a pair of you to ensure that my demonstration stuck. Pay attention."
Everyone gulped. Snape showed them how to take positions on the opposite side of the stage, showed them the proper bow, and then set about humiliating Lockhart until the idiot gave up. Once the Defense teacher dragged himself off the stage Snape's icy gaze swept the audience.
"Potter, Zabini, get up here," the Potions professor ordered. "Potter, leave that silly muggle weapon of yours with Malfoy. This is wizarding duelling."
Luke, already up on the stage, glowered and obediently unbuckled his sword. Draco strained a bit at the weight of the weapon but luckily didn't drop it. Left with only his wand, Luke stared down the Slytherin that was speaking testily to Snape.
After a moment they adopted the duelling stance. Luke had no intention of sticking to wizarding spells, though he wondered which of his artes wouldn't kill the boy in front of him.
Judging by the smirk on the other's lips, Blaise Zabini wasn't thinking such kind thoughts. At least the redhead was going to be able to test out that shield arte he'd been studying.
Under Snape's watchful eye they bowed. Before the call to start came, though, Blaise had already launched into an offensive spell. Luke's first reaction was to call on the fourth fonons in the air and he spun, hand tracing a wall of ice in front of him that the spell impacted against. Then he dispelled the ice and launched a spell of his own through the water droplets. Blaise dodged, but Luke was following up with the Energy Blast arte. Halfway through the incantation he was forced to dodge, interrupting his spell, because Blaise managed to get a shot off. Without his sword, he lamented, he couldn't use any of the strike artes that he'd taught himself.
They paused in their mock-battle, Luke grinning while Blaise frowned at him. "Having fun yet?" the redhead asked, enjoying himself in this moment.
"You're cheating!" Blaise accused hotly.
"None of my spells or artes have been lethal," Luke pointed out cheerfully.
Blaise frowned, then spun and shouted a spell. Luke dodged backwards, but the magic wasn't pointed at him. Instead it coiled into the shape of a serpent, and then it was a serpent. The redhead was already shaping fifth fonons with his words when the snake glared at him.
"Is that any way to greet an elder?" it spat at him in a perfectly understandable voice. Luke stared at it.
"What?" he asked blankly. He'd just heard a snake talking to him. There was something that wasn't quite right with that. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Blaise readying another spell and he impatiently summoned another ice wall. The snake was trapped on his side of the wall, but that was exactly what Luke was going for.
"I said," the snake repeated venomously, "Is that any way to greet an elder, boy?"
"You were just born," Luke pointed out, but he crouched so he was closer to the snake's eye level. "I've never talked to a snake, anyway. There weren't too many in Baticul."
The snake hissed at him, coiling around so it could regard their audience solemnly. "Insolent hatchling," it scolded him, even as it eyed a boy that went white.
"I could say the same," Luke replied, though he smirked a bit. "Now stop looking at that Hufflepuff. I've enjoyed this conversation but I can't let you attack him." Hesitantly he reached out to the snake. "Tell you what. I'll take you outside and let you go off and do what you want if you promise not to bite a human. Fair?"
The snake regarded the poor Hufflepuff, then turned so it could slither around Luke's arm. Without even caring that his ice wall was collapsing, he turned and marched off of the stage. The students in front of him parted without him needing to glare at them, Draco tagging along behind him. They were allowed to leave in peace.
Once they were outside and away from the castle, Luke leaned down and rested his hand against the grass so the snake could dismount.
"Thanks for the ride," it hissed as it left him behind.
"You're welcome," Luke returned, bemused. He stood so he could retrieve his sword, but the stunned look on Draco's face stopped him. "What is it?" he asked curiously.
"Why didn't you ever tell anyone you were a parselmouth?" the blonde asked, voice faint. "Everyone's going to think you're Slytherin's heir now."
Luke shrugged. "I didn't know I could talk to snakes before today, so the point's irrelevant. I'm no more Slytherin's heir than I am Peony's." When Draco looked confused Luke elaborated, "That's the emperor of Malkuth, the other country in my world. If I really were his son there wouldn't be any need for a war." He paused before adding, "Or the whole world would be destroyed. I really don't know."
Draco shrugged. "Well, it's on your head."
True to Draco's word, people began whispering about Luke immediately. The petrification incidents around school were all attributed to the Heir of Slytherin, and now everyone thought that Luke was him. As Luke told several people when they dared to confront him about it, he hadn't known he could talk to snakes. That didn't stop word from spreading and pretty soon Luke was the newest pariah.
The only ones that didn't abandon him were Draco, Ron, and Hermione. They assured him that they believed them, and Hermione spent every waking moment in the school library to find a solution to the attacks. Luke kept hearing that strange whispering and he resorted to avoiding everyone, camping out in his hidden room. Of course, though, that only fuelled suspicion of his guilt.
He didn't care. He heard that voice nearly every waking moment. It whispered about death and destruction and Slytherin while he tried to plug his ears and block it out. It came to the point that he was about to tell Sirius or Albus about it if they could only get it to stop.
One day he walked into Gryffindor Tower to see a tearful Ron and an angry Draco. Death's Voice fading into the halls behind him, Luke was able to focus all of his attention on the pair that was studying a bit of parchment. "What's wrong?" he asked, drawing the attention of both boys. He wondered why Draco was in the tower but figured that he should stick to one question at a time.
"It's Hermione," Ron started to say. His voice trailed off as he started to cry again and Luke instead turned to Draco. The Ravenclaw patted Ron on the back awkwardly as he explained.
"Hermione's been petrified," Draco said. "They found her in the corridor outside the library with a mirror and this bit of paper. The good news is, no one thinks you're Slytherin's Heir anymore. The bad news is, whatever's doing this is still out there."
Luke understood Ron's mood now and gripped his friend's shoulder. "She's not dead," he encouraged. "Madame Pomfrey's making the potion soon, right? She'll be cured in just a few days."
"Until then we have to figure out how to deal with this," Draco said grimly, handing the bit of parchment to Luke. "Hermione figured out what the culprit is - it's a giant snake called a basilisk."
Luke looked over the paper and felt a bit of relief. "So Death's Voice has really just been a snake," he realized. "A giant snake hiding out in the walls and stalking me. Why does that make me feel better?"
"You've been hearing voices?" Ron and Draco yelped.
"A voice, I thought I was hallucinating it. I called it Death's Voice because it needed a name and it was downright terrifying," Luke admitted. "Now that I know it's just a snake, though, it explains why no one else could hear it."
Draco nodded. "Only you, Fabre," he said fondly. "Anyway, we have to figure out what we're going to do about it now. We have to find out where the Basilisk is hiding and then tell the Headmaster about it."
"Bad news on that front," the Weasley twins chorused behind the trio. Ron glared at his siblings as he tried to scrub away his tears.
"What is it?" Luke asked.
"Dumbledore's been called away for questioning," one of the twins said.
"Hagrid's been taken to Azkaban," the other added.
Draco scowled, though Luke couldn't really bring himself to feel sorry for Dumbledore. Hagrid was a nice guy but he wouldn't call them close, but he knew that Ron was friends with him. "Then what can we do?"
"We can take care of the basilisk ourselves if it comes to it," Luke decided. He had his magic artes and was reading up on strengths and weaknesses - a snake was cold-blooded so it was vulnerable to ice.
"How?" Ron demanded while the twins sidled off to confuse someone else. "It can kill you with just a look!"
"Or petrify you if you happen to look at it in a reflection," Draco pointed out.
"On my world there are plenty of things that can petrify you," Luke said dismissively. He pulled out a book and flipped through it. "We have things called basilisks too, though they're really large lizards. I was reading up on protective artes while I was hiding, there are some charms that can protect you from petrification for a short time. If I could get back home," and he glared at the ceiling, "I could get enough of those charms for the whole school."
Draco stared at the book and its Ispanian letters. "I keep forgetting you're not from around here," he said ruefully. "I know you have an accent, but it's still jarring when you mention it."
"Where do you keep getting those?" Ron wanted to know. "You keep showing up with books in that language and you got a real sword last year somehow. How do you keep getting them?"
Luke hesitated - he really didn't want to give up his sanctuary. At the same time, he knew it was suspicious that he was keeping secrets. He debated with himself over it until, at last, he decided. "You have to promise to keep it a secret," he said sternly. "It's my hiding place and my training room and it's the only place I have to myself. If Dumbledore found out about it then he'd keep it from me and I can't have that. You have to promise me that you won't tell anyone else about it."
"This place is awesome!" Ron breathed, taking in the bookshelves and the training dummies and the racks of swords and staves and other things that hadn't been there before. Luke went to shelve his books while his two friends explored the room.
"It is," Draco agreed, tugging a sword from its place. He unsheathed it halfway and stared at the cruel metal. "How can it be here, though?"
Luke shrugged. "I found it my first day here. I was exploring the castle and wanting someplace where I could train, and this room popped out of the wall. It's where I go when I don't want to be found. There are a whole bunch of books in my language, as well as all these weapons."
"Necklaces?" Draco asked, holding up three gems that glittered in the light. Luke finished putting his books away and went to see what Draco had found.
"They weren't there before," he frowned. "The room just puts stuff in here though, stuff it thinks I'll need. It'll have books on the table for me sometimes."
"And what were we just needing?" Ron asked. "You think those are those petrification charms you mentioned?"
"They look like what I saw in the book," Luke noted, taking one in his hand. When he focused a bit he could feel the second fonons clustered about the gem and he nodded. "You know, I think these are. I wonder how the room got them, though?"
"At this point who cares?" Ron shrugged, taking a gem and slipping it over his head. "Now come on. Luke, if you start hearing voices again, let us know."
Hermione's paper had one clue for them - follow the spiders. And they did, all the way to the Forbidden Forest and a giant spider. On the plus side, it gave them their most important clue. The downside was that it tried to eat them after spilling its secrets. Only Luke's fifth fonic artes saved them from being lunch.
Maybe it would have been better to let the spiders take them, Luke thought as he darted into a damp, moldy tunnel. Fangs as long as his arm sank into the stone above his head and shook dust into his hair. Safe from the basilisk's gaze, he took the sunglasses he'd borrowed from a random Hufflepuff off. They had been a calculated move on Ron's part.
"Well," he'd said while they were planning this insane trip, "maybe we don't have to use mirrors. Muggles have these things that they use to block out the sun. They wear them on their faces. Since Nearly Headless Nick blocked out that guy's view, he only got petrified. Do you think that would still work?"
Luke had mused it over and agreed. "I think they need to be seen with the naked eye in order to kill instead of petrify."
The Hufflepuff had been the first wizard they found wearing the odd things. Luke had that pair, while Draco had another the Hufflepuff borrowed from a friend. Ron's, equally borrowed, was useless now thanks to their stupid Defense teacher.
"I hope that memory spell killed his brain cells," Luke muttered as he surveyed his surroundings. The tunnel was nondescript and wet. His feet were numb from the cold water spilling over the tops of his boots. Water dripped into his hair from the damp stone over his head. "Why did that idiotic headmaster hire that obvious fraud in the first place?"
Now they were down one fighter with one pissed off Basilisk and Voldemort's ghost as opponents. Luke turned back to the tunnel entrance once he heard the large mass behind him shift away. Large chunks of rock tumbled from above the entrance. Luke shoved his sunglasses back on and dove out of the tunnel an instant before it collapsed.
"Oi, you scaly brute!" Draco's voice shouted. "Why don't you try me on for size?"
Luke's sunglasses were scratched but not broken by his tumble. He rolled to his feet and searched for his friend. Draco sent bolts of red light at the giant snake, but they uselessly bounced off the thick scales.
It was a distraction Luke was grateful for. Voldemort was hidden from his view by the basilisk's mass and so couldn't interrupt his spell. "Coldblooded," Luke repeated as he gathered the fourth fonons to him. They were luckily very plentiful in the Chamber of Secrets. The fonic arte he focused on was like the one he used last year to save Hermione. He poured more power into it this time. The basilisk was a lot larger than a troll.
"Any time now!" Draco yelled in a panic. "I lost my sunglasses!"
Words helped shaped the arte, he remembered, and there wasn't any formal incantation. "Let the ice strike you down!" he cried. There was a spell name he remembered reading about, so he decided it was good enough to use. "Freeze Lancer!"
Instead of manifesting as an icicle like he expected, the arte formed an icy vortex in front of him. From this vortex shot a dozen shards of ice as long as Luke was and almost as tall. The ice pierced the basilisk's hide, pinning it and causing it to roar in pain. As it reared its head back, the last shard struck it between the eyes.
"Shit!" Draco yelped as he skidded into Luke's view on the far side of the basilisk. It flopped to the ground, presumably where his Ravenclaw friend had been standing only seconds before.
"How?" Voldemort roared. Luke drew his sword and turned away from the dead creature. He'd been too busy running for his life to draw it before then. He took off his sunglasses and stalked around the corpse until the main source of their problems was in sight. It was this ghost of Voldemort that had drawn Ginny Weasley into this dark place. It had been the thing to control the basilisk and send it to murder students in the school. It was only purely dumb luck that had kept there from being any casualties.
"Give up," he said coldly. "Your beast is dead. Give Ginny back and I won't kill you."
Even as he said those words, he remembered Quirrel and nearly choked. To be reminded of that now, when he couldn't afford to be distracted! Not when the most pressing of his reasons for being here was lying prone on the floor next to Voldemort – or rather, his younger self.
Luke couldn't remember the name the tall, black-haired teenager had given. He was Voldemort's shadow, a ghost trapped in a diary. Ginny had held that diary the whole school year and found herself possessed. Now, the ghost was sapping her life force to bring himself back to life.
All this Voldemort had told them when they entered the Chamber. Luke didn't know how long they'd been fighting for their lives. It could have been hours or days.
He raised his sword into a ready stance. "Last chance," he said coldly. He wouldn't balk this time. Voldemort had killed the Potters and countless others. He'd nearly killed Luke last year. He couldn't hesitate and let this monster kill again.
Yet, his heart was heavy because of this choice.
Voldemort sneered. "I don't know what spell you used to kill the basilisk, but that won't stop you. Your corpse will lie in the Chamber along with hers!"
"Expelliarmus!" Draco yelled. It surprised Voldemort, though not Luke. He knew he could count on his friend. The disarming spell worked, sending Ginny's wand flying across the room. Voldemort had barely a second to look enraged before Luke lunged.
He wouldn't forget the feel of his blade as it sunk deep. Blood sprang forth, though not as much as he expected. He knew he hit his target when his enemy slumped without another word. With the heart torn asunder, it was an instant kill. A stopped heart couldn't force blood out of the wound.
It still hurt, but it wasn't crippling this time. Luke averted his eyes from the body and looked at Draco. He didn't want to see what look his friend would give him, but it would have been cowardly to shy away. "I didn't have a choice," he said. It was a futile justification.
Draco grimaced but nodded. Even though he tried to look calm, Luke could see his hands trembling around his wand. Instead of pointing it out and making Draco lose his pride, he turned away and washed some of the blood from his hands. The water was cold and did little more than smudge the red into pink.
"How's Ginny?" he asked while he scrubbed.
There were footsteps, then the rustle of cloth. "Oh no," Draco whispered. The horror in his voice was enough to make Luke's stomach sink. The noble knew what was wrong, but he couldn't help but ask.
"What?"
Draco gathered up the ratty journal in his cloak while Luke handled Ginny. Her face was pale and peaceful in death. It was scarcely hard to believe he'd only seen her in the common room that morning! Only the numbness from his murder of the Voldeghost prevented the grief he felt from pouring down his face.
He draped her in his robe and carried her through the Chamber. It was his burden to bear as the one who'd failed to save her. She was heavy in his arms but he refused to falter. Never back away, his father had taught him. This was his responsibility.
Ron knew as soon as they came into view. Bad luck had trapped him on the other side of a minor cave-in, but in the time it took the battle to be won (lost?) he'd cleared the worst of the rubble away. He took one look at Luke and dropped his wand. "Ginny!" he cried, his voice cracking.
The Fabre heir didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. He couldn't imagine what Ron was feeling. It had to be worse than the turmoil he himself was feeling. The other redhead touched Ginny's pale, cold cheek and tried to stifle sobs. Luke closed his burning eyes. This was a loss, he felt with all his heart. Was this was Father had meant as a pyrrhic victory?
"Come on," Draco said quietly. "Let's get back up and…" His voice trailed off with a suspicious hitch.
Luke expected some kind of reaction once the shock wore off. His throbbing face and likely-bruised eye didn't hurt as much as the betrayal he felt. He cradled his face and looked impassively at Ron. There were so many emotions warring inside him that he didn't know which to show. His back hurt from its impact against one of Dumbledore's many small side tables. It was in ruins now under him.
The teachers now assembled in the office had met them outside the entrance to the Chamber. Professor Sprout had whisked Ginny's body away without a fuss. The rest of the trip to this room had been made in silence. No one knew what to say while they walked.
It was only when they got to the office, after Luke finished recounting their battle, that Ron had snapped. The Fabre heir couldn't blame him. He didn't have siblings and couldn't imagine how his friend felt.
"You could have saved her!" Ron shouted. He knocked trinkets and knickknacks off of shelves as he thrashed in Snape's and Minverva's grasps. Dumbledore's office was gaining a striking variety of debris as Ron struggled to get to Luke. "You killed her, you- you- you mudblood!" he shrieked.
Luke couldn't hold his gaze and looked away. Ron was right. If only they'd gotten there sooner. If only they hadn't stopped for the stupid sunglasses. If only…
His eyes burned with grief. Even now, the tears didn't want to fall. There was nothing he could say. What sort of apology could he give? Three lives were on his head now. They were surely going to haunt him to his grave. Yulia help him, he was going to have to live with it for the rest of his life. It was a weight that settled into his gut and heart, as heavy as Ginny's body had been.
"Enough," Dumbledore's voice cut in. The Headmaster was back, summoned with all haste once Ginny had been taken. "Mr. Weasley, calm yourself or we will be forced to do it for you."
Draco put a hand on Luke's shoulder. "You all right?" he asked softly.
"No," Luke said bitterly. What else could he say? "Ron's right." There was that, yeah. He stood and offered the redhead his sword. "I failed in my duty as a noble. I killed Ginny with my inaction. If he wishes retribution," and here his voice faltered, but he forged on, "it is his right to take it."
Ron spat in his face and threw the sword to the floor. "You're a filthy Muggle," he said coldly. "Brutish and unrefined. If I ever see you again, I'll do worse than punch you!"
Luke watched his former friend storm out of with a tinge of a regret and betrayal. There was nothing he could do, so he turned back to Dumbledore. As much as he tried to say that there was nothing to be done, he just wanted to sit and sob like the child he knew he was. His upbringing kept him from doing so. A noble had no time to be a child.
"Yet again you get a real sword and again people died," Dumbledore mused after the silence stretched on for too long. "That said, you prevented many more lives from being lost. It was only a matter of time before the basilisk caught a student who had no mirror to look in."
Luke couldn't meet the man's eyes. The broken shards of mysterious items were a much more interesting sight. "People still died. It doesn't matter if the Basilisk killed her," he bit out.
"Two second-year students against a centuries-old creature? My boy, we are lucky that we are not searching for four more bodies in the Chamber. Speaking of, you said Lockhart tried to Obliviate you?" Dumbledore asked.
"The stupid bloke took credit for everyone else's work," Draco answered. "When we were going to get his help, he decided to try and run. Weasley's broken wand backfired on him."
Dumbledore nodded sagely. "I had my suspicions about the man, but there was no other who could fill the position in time."
Luke was okay with Draco taking charge of the conversation now. He listened silently while Dumbledore asked a few follow up questions, then ushered them out of the room. They dutifully reported to the Hospital Wing to be looked over. Ron was there as well, seated next to a covered lump in the bed. He refused to look acknowledge their presence while Madame Pomfrey fussed over them.
It was only with the help of a Dreamless Sleep potion that Luke was finally able to drift off.
"We can't ask you to stay with us this summer," Arthur Weasley said flatly. He didn't seem angry as he faced Luke. His expression was one of grief and resignation. "Ron… well, you know already. I'm sorry."
"No, I am," Luke replied bitterly. The lack of anger from the Weasleys irritated him. Why weren't they blaming him? It was his fault their youngest daughter was dead. The funeral had been held a few days afterwards. Hermione had gone, but Luke and Draco weren't welcome.
The rest of the school year had passed in a haze. Exams came and went, and now they were back in London. Draco, upon seeing the elder Weasley, had excused himself and gone to where his parents waited patiently.
Luke, dressed once again in Muggle clothes, was more irritated with the unfamiliar garb than usual. It might have been his dour state of mind but the jeans felt like they were weighing him down. What was with Muggles and heavy clothes? London was certainly cold, but this felt more like Keterburg attire.
"Dumbledore's found you another place to stay," Arthur continued. "Don't wander off and your guardian will find you." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Luke to his own devices.
Wandering off had led him to Sirius and a wonderful summer away from Dumbledore and his influence. Luke wouldn't mind another like it. Thinking of Sirius made him wonder where his godfather was. There had been no letters during the school year, which was understandable. What fugitive could send owl post?
He didn't see any sign of a large black dog. Wherever Sirius was, it wasn't in London. Luke dragged his trunk off to the side and sat on it. For lack of anything better to do, he pulled out a book on fonic artes and started to read it.
The train station grew quieter as fewer people made their way through it. The sun was starting to angle low through the windows when a shadow fell over Luke. He looked up, hand settling on his wooden sword, to see a giant of a man. This man, with his perfectly slicked back hair and bushy mustache, was a giant in a different way than Hagrid. He was rather round in the middle and his belt looked like it would give out at any moment.
They locked gazes for a moment before the man huffed. "You don't look the way I expected you to," he grumbled. "Good. Red hair is better than black. If it was black you'd look like him."
Luke wasn't sure who the man was referring to so he didn't react. He marked his page and put his book away instead. "You're the one I'll be staying with?" he asked.
The man made a face. "That accent is horrible. He said you'd speak English, not mangle it."
The Fabre heir glowered at him. "Idiot," he said in Ispanian.
"There will be none of that while you're staying with me!" the man thundered. "I have a reputation to keep. You're to stay out of the way and out of trouble. Do everything that's asked of you and, for God's sake, put that sword away!"
Luke ignored that command and instead lifted his trunk. "Lead the way," he sighed.
The man growled and stormed off. Luke followed him out of the station and to a muggle fontech machine, one that was shiny metal and rounded corners.
"Put your trunk in the car and we'll be going," the man huffed. "Don't dally or we'll be late for supper."
Luke did as he was instructed, seething all the while. This was the man Dumbledore had pawned him off on? It was punishment for his actions, he was sure of it.
One the trunk was in the odd device, he walked up to the man and stuck out his hand, in the same manner as he'd seen British folks before. "I'm Luke fon Fabre," he introduced. "Thank you for taking care of me." Though, with the man's attitude, he wondered if he wanted to be cared for by him.
The man looked at the hand like it would bite him. "Vernon Dursely," he replied gruffly. "Now get in the damn car! If supper's cold when we get home, I'm going to be cross."
Luke got into the muggle machine – a car, how strange – and buckled in the belt as he was instructed. So this was to be his life for the next two months? It was going to be a trial.