Welcome to chapter two of my story, Of Flumes and Quigs and Luna Lovegood. The name is kinda stupid, so just ignore it. Thanks to TheMagesticMoose and Drusilla S. Silvers for reviewing, and all you other people for reading. Now, on to the story!
Oh, one last thing: in case you don't remember, the Batu clan is Loor's. They are darker skinned, and work mostly on the surface. They also wear brightly colored toga thingies. The Rokador clan is lighter skinned, and since Bobby is pretty pale, that's the one he pretends to belong to (when he visits Zadaa in the 2nd book). They work mostly underground, and wear white togas. Just for the record, the last book is book five: Black Water. I'm pretty much making up the sixth book's story, not taking it from that story. All settings and names belong to D. J. MacHale or J.K. Rowling (geez, what's with all the initials?).
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"… and then he shouted 'Hogwarts' and jumped into the flume, and before I could stop him, he was gone," Loor finished, finally stopping her pacing and sitting down beside Bobby at the table.
Bobby didn't look up from the clay cup he was fiddling with, and for a moment, neither of the Travelers said anything. "I should've been there," Bobby said finally. Loor placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and Bobby looked up, slightly startled. Loor wasn't exactly a touchy-feely person.
"Listen," she said quietly, "It's not your fault those Batus attacked you. They had no right." Loor sounded ashamed that her people would do something like that, but to tell the truth, Bobby was not surprised.
"I know," Bobby said heavily. "I just—I wish Spader and Gunny were here."
"Me too."
There was a thump as Bobby dropped his head onto the table. "It's all my fault," he mumbled for the zillionth time that day. Loor knew he was no longer talking about the Batu revolt. "For the last time, it is not your fault that flume collapsed. We saved Zadaa—that's what's important. Now what you have to do is go save this 'Hogwarts' place. Focus on your future tasks, not your past failures, otherwise you will never win."
Bobby took a deep breath and stood up, a weak smile on his face. "Thanks. I guess I'd better go now. Are you sure you can't come too?'
Loor nodded firmly. "Yes. You know I have to stay and help rebuild, what with being a general now and all."
Bobby sighed. "I know, but asking couldn't've hurt, could it?" He started toward the door.
"Wait!" Loor suddenly yelled, grabbing a bundle from the corner. Bobby turned as she handed the object to him. "I want you to have this."
Loor watched as Bobby slowly unwraveled it. His eyes widened as, with a thud, a sword fell into his hands. "But Loor, this is your sword."
Loor nodded solemnly. "I have others. Take it. You might need it."
"But, but…okay." Bobby smiled a little and tucked the sword into the belt of his white toga. He knew better then to argue with Loor. Besides, she didn't give gifts often.
"Thanks," he said and headed out the door.
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Choosing his footholds carefully, Bobby made his way down into the tunnels underneath the city of Xhaxhu. He had never been very good at rock climbing, and even with a couple weeks of practice, he still wasn't. Finally, he made it to the floor, and breathed a sigh of relief. Phew.
Bobby turned to head down the hallway leading to the flume, when he saw someone that made him freeze. It was those idiots who had tried to beat him up the night before. There were three of them, all dressed in red cloaks of different shades, and they were obviously plotting something. Bobby shrugged it off. Probably just complaining about the new laws and stuff. Still, he didn't want them to see him. After all, they probably wouldn't be very happy, and looking for someone to take it out on. Bobby edged around the edge of the room. Once he got to the hallway, he'd be home free. Nearly there…
"Hey, punk, what are you doing down here?" Crud.
"I was about to ask you the same question." Double crud. Why did have to say that?!
"Oh, boy, you shouldn't've said that," said the thug, stepping menacingly closer.
"I know," Bobby muttered under his breath, starting to make a break for the hallway, only to find one of the guys, the fat one, blocking his way. He turned the other way, and then a tall man was in front of him. The first thug, the really muscular one (although they were all muscular—they were warriors, after all), laughed cruelly, and sounded a lot like Saint Dane. Bobby whirled around and, much to his relief, it was not. But then there was still the matter of being surrounded by three angry warriors…
"You're not gonna get away this time," he said menacingly. "You landed us in jail. No cruddy Rokador is gonna get away with that."
Bobby took another step back, and a rock foothold jabbed into his back. Great. Cornered. "Um, listen, guys, I'm sorry about that, but I really gotta go," Bobby tried weakly. He edged a step toward the hallway, and noticed the muscular Batu fingering his sword. Uh-oh.
"Draw!"
"Huh?" Bobby blinked and suddenly, the Batu had his sword out, at the ready. Bobby panicked. A sword fight?! He didn't know how to use a sword!
The Batu moved forward, his sword slashing the air. Awkwardly, Bobby drew his sword and gripped tightly with both hands. The Batu laughed, an unnerving roar. "Is that how you hold a sword? This'll be easy!"
He dove, and Bobby held up his sword in self-defense. The swords clanged, and the Batu's sword was knocked aside, amazingly. Bobby grinned. Yes!
The Batu slashed again, and Bobby gripped his sword tighter. However, at the last minute, the muscular man's twisted to the side, leaving a long, deep cut in Bobby's right arm instead. Bobby cried out in pain and gripped his arm with his other hand. When he pulled away, it was covered in blood.
Bobby swung his sword, but missed, of course. After all, the warrior was an experienced swordsman, and Bobby was an amateur who couldn't even hold a sword right.
The Batu hacked again, almost lazily, and ripped a gash in his toga, leaving a thick line of blood across his midriff. Bobby shouted again and buckled over slightly, his sword dropping to the dirt. Gasping, he folded his arms over his stomach, trying to stop the pain. He gritted his teeth as the Batu's gravelly laugh rang in his ears. "Has the maggot had enough yet?"
Out of the corner of his eye, Bobby saw the fat man, the one who had been guarding the hallway, move away from his "post" to stand by the muscular Batu. Seeing a chance to escape, Bobby grabbed Loor's sword and blindly ran towards the hallway.
"Hey!" one of the warriors shouted after him, but Bobby only sped up. Behind him, he heard someone say, "If someone sees him, we'll go to jail again!"
There was a pause, and then the muscular one's voice rang through the large room. "GET HIM!"
Bobby sped up as he ran through the underground halls. He had memorized the way by now. Turn left, then right, left, left, left, right, and then…
Bobby sped up as he spotted the dead end. Nearly there… Bobby skidded to a stop and dropped into the sand, ignoring the burning as it settled into his wounds. Where was that latch?!
Bobby scrabbled around in the sand, and then his hand closed around something cool and round. Yes. Bobby wrenched the trap door open and lowered himself down onto the rock wall as quickly as he could. Then, slamming the door shut behind him, he began to climb down the wall and into the flume. The rock closed him in, but in a few seconds, the stone boxing in his sides and back curved away, and Bobby could see the flume. He breathed out a sigh of relief. And then his foot slipped.
He reached out his foot, and placed his weight on it, only to find that it was supported by nothing. He was thrown off balance, his other foot slipped, and suddenly, he was sliding down the rough, rocky surface, scratching and cutting whatever he hadn't already injured in the fight. His hands desperately grappled for a handhold, and finally, his left hand managed to grab one. Bobby's fall stopped abruptly, and his body was slammed back against the rock. He yelled in pain once again, then (painfully) looked down. His feet were about a foot off the dirt floor.
Bobby groaned, and dropped rather ungracefully onto the ground. He stood up and turned toward the flume, grinding his teeth together as every part of him cursed him for making them do yet another thing that day. Bobby walked into the rocky tunnel and gasped out, "Hogwarts." As the jumbled music filled his ears, Bobby let out a sigh of relief, and then promptly passed out.
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He woke up sometime in the middle of the flume ride. Bobby was floating down a transparent tunnel in the middle of space. For a second, he wondered where he was, and then it all came rushing back to him, and he let out a loud groan. Oh, his aching muscles…
Bobby glanced down at himself, and let out another moan. He looked horrible. He was dirty and bloody, and he had a sword. These people were gonna think he was a barbarian or something.
Bobby did a bodily check. Arms? Still there. Legs? Check. Injuries? Aching, but he'd survive. He checked out the gash on his stomach. Dried blood surrounded it, and stained his toga reddish brown. But the blood had clotted, and luckily, the cut wasn't too deep.
Vaguely, Bobby noticed the mixed up musical notes growing louder again. He was nearing his destination. Bobby gripped the sword tightly, preparing for the new territory. Please don't let it be like Zadaa or Eelong, Bobby silently prayed. I don't think I can handle another warrior-based society.
The music was getting louder—he was nearly there…
There was a flash of light, and Bobby Pendragon stumbled into an empty classroom on the sixth floor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
However, the empty classroom Bobby was now in was not so empty after all. Bobby dropped his sword in exhaustion, and put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Having accomplished that, he straightened up, and froze. Before him were three teenagers, two boys and a girl, all three of their mouths open in shock.
"Who are you?" he asked slowly.
"We were about to ask you the same question," the girl replied in a British accent, and stepped forward, leveling a long, thin stick at his head. The boys did the same, and Bobby put his hands up in the air in surrender. "You're not a supporter of Voldemort, are you?" asked the red-headed boy suspiciously. Huh?
"Who the heck is he," asked Bobby, utterly confused, "and why are you pointing sticks at me?"
The raven-haired boy with glasses blinked in surprise. "You don't know who Voldemort is?" There was an edge of hatred in the boy's voice as he spoke Voldemort's name.
"Um, not really, but I'm guessing he's bad?"
The red-haired boy snorted, a bitter laugh escaping his throat. "Bloody hell he is."
The girl in the middle, who was short, with incredibly bushy brown hair, slowly lowered her stick. Phew. "So, who are you?
Bobby smiled slightly and stuck out his hand. "Bobby Pendragon, at your service."