The next morning, the Great Hall buzzed with an unusual fervor. Whispers, theories, and outright fantastical tales about the previous night's detention circulated like enchanted wildfire. James, Sirius, Remus, Lily, and Severus, despite their exhaustion, found themselves at the center of a whirlwind of questions and speculative glances. Their attempts to explain were met with blank stares, polite nods, or outright disbelief.
"A griffin? You saw a griffin?" a bewildered Hufflepuff asked James at breakfast, clearly trying to suppress a giggle. "And… a dragon? In the Forbidden Forest? Don't you think that's a bit… much, Potter?"
Sirius, his voice hoarse, attempted to clarify. "No, no, not just a griffin, the griffin! The one Echo summoned in the brawl yesterday morning! And it flew off! And then… and then there was a dragon, bigger than the castle! And it was called Wick!"
A Ravenclaw scoffed. "Please, Black. Everyone knows dragons are highly territorial and exceptionally rare in Britain. And a griffin that responds to a student? Preposterous."
Severus, who was still managing a formidable sneer despite his own lingering bewilderment, merely muttered, "Precisely. Imbeciles." He then pointedly avoided eye contact with anyone who dared to question him, though he did catch Lily's eye, and a faint, almost imperceptible shrug passed between them.
Lily, however, found herself defending their story with a quiet, fierce conviction. "It's true," she insisted to a group of wide-eyed first-years. "Echo showed us. And Mooncalves! We danced with Mooncalves under the moonlight!"
The first-years exchanged skeptical glances. "Mooncalves only appear on the full moon, Lily," one of them said, clearly having read up on obscure magical creatures.
Lily sighed, rubbing her temples. "Yes, well, these apparently didn't get the memo."
Echo, meanwhile, sat at the Slytherin table, a solitary, unblinking presence. His rainbow hair, now vibrant and shimmering in the morning light, was the only outward sign of the night's adventures. He ate his breakfast with his usual detached efficiency, seemingly oblivious to the frantic discussions and incredulous stares that surrounded him. Sniffles occasionally poked his head out of Echo's robe pocket, his tiny eyes gleaming as he surveyed the glittering cutlery on the table, clearly contemplating a raid. He caught Dumbledore's eye, the Headmaster's blue gaze twinkling with a knowing, almost amused light from the head table. Echo merely gave a faint, almost imperceptible nod. He had made his point. They wouldn't believe. And that was just fine.
Later that day, a summons arrived for James, Sirius, Remus, Lily, Severus, and, of course, Echo from Professor Dumbledore's office. The familiar gargoyle at the entrance to the Headmaster's office swung aside, revealing the spiral staircase, and one by one, the seven students ascended, their expressions warring with dread and defiant curiosity.
Dumbledore was seated behind his grand, claw-footed desk, his eyes twinkling over his half-moon spectacles. Fawkes, the phoenix, perched silently on his stand, occasionally ruffling his golden feathers. The office was as chaotic and comforting as ever, filled with whirring silver instruments and the scent of lemon drops.
"Ah, my dear students," Dumbledore began, his voice calm and melodic, a stark contrast to the churning anxiety in the room. He gestured to a semi-circle of chairs that had miraculously appeared before his desk. "Do sit. Lemon drop, anyone?"
No one moved—except for Sniffles, who shot out of Echo's pocket, dropped the lemon into his pouch, and scurried back inside.
Dumbledore sighed, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Very well. I daresay you are all wondering why I have called you here." He paused, his gaze sweeping over each of them, lingering for a moment on Echo's impassive face, then on James's still-bruised jaw. "It has come to my attention that your… detention last night, and indeed, the events leading up to it, were rather… eventful."
He leaned forward, his eyes losing their twinkle and sharpening as he assessed. "I have heard many tales this morning. Of Griffins, of dragons, of dancing Mooncalves, and indeed, of unfortunate encounters with Dementors. I find myself in a peculiar position, as the accounts are, shall we say, remarkably consistent amongst you, yet utterly fantastical to anyone who was not present."
Dumbledore's gaze settled on James. "Mr. Potter, perhaps you would care to enlighten me. Begin with yesterday morning. The… incident in the secret hallway connected to Gryffindor tower."
James flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, Professor, it all started when… well, when we, uh, pranked Echo." He glanced nervously at Echo, who remained impassive. "We, uh, we dyed his hair. Rainbow."
Dumbledore's eyebrows rose slightly. "Indeed. A rather… vibrant choice, Mr. Potter. And what, precisely, was the intent behind this particular act of artistry?"
James shifted uncomfortably. "Just a bit of fun, Professor. A joke."
"A joke that resulted in Mr. Echo, who I understand was recovering from a rather severe incident, engaging in a rather public and remarkably energetic display of… magical prowess against four of his classmates," Dumbledore stated, his voice still calm, but with an underlying steel. "A display, I might add, that involved the summoning of a creature previously thought to be theoretical for a student of his age." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the Marauders. "And then, of course, the ensuing detention in the Forbidden Forest."
Dumbledore leaned back, his eyes twinkling once more. "So, Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, Mr. Lupin, Mr. Pettigrew. And you, Miss Evans, Mr. Snape. You all encountered Mooncalves, Unicorns, Centaurs, a griffin, and saw a dragon. Is that a reasonably accurate summary of your evening's endeavors?"
The Marauders, Lily, and Severus nodded, their expressions a mixture of lingering awe and renewed terror at the mention of the dragon.
Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "Remarkable. Truly remarkable. And quite unprecedented. I confess, when Hagrid informed me of your… excursions, I was intrigued. And now, having heard it from your own lips, I am… deeply impressed. And slightly concerned."
His gaze settled on Echo. "Echo, my boy," Dumbledore said, his voice softening, "I understand you have been through a great deal. The Dementor incident, as I now understand the full implications of it, was a traumatic event. And yet, you have displayed extraordinary resilience, and indeed, a unique affinity for magical creatures that I have rarely witnessed."
Echo merely nodded, his gaze fixed on Dumbledore's desk.
"However," Dumbledore continued, his voice firm, "while your abilities are extraordinary, their uncontrolled application can lead to… rather significant disruptions. And severe detentions, as you have recently discovered." He looked pointedly at the Marauders. "Therefore, I have decided on the consequences of your actions."
James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter visibly braced themselves. Lily and Severus exchanged a resigned glance.
"For Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, Mr. Lupin, and Mr. Pettigrew," Dumbledore began, his eyes twinkling, "for your rather misguided prank, and the unfortunate cascade of events it initiated, you will each serve one month of detention with Mr. Filch. This will involve the polishing of every single trophy in the trophy room and the cleaning of every single pot in the dungeons. Without magic."
The Marauders groaned in unison, their faces falling.
"As for you, Miss Evans and Mr. Snape," Dumbledore continued, turning to Lily and Severus, "while you were indirectly involved, your participation in the latter part of the evening was, shall we say, more observational than instigatory. Therefore, you will each serve one week of detention with Professor Bloom, assisting her in the greenhouses. I trust this will be a more… educational experience."
Lily let out a small sigh of relief. Severus merely sniffed, though a faint look of surprise crossed his face.
Then Dumbledore turned to Echo, his blue eyes assessing. "And for you, Echo. Your actions, while born of understandable provocation, were… powerful. Unusually so. And your ability to connect with creatures of the Forbidden Forest, while fascinating, requires… guidance." He paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Therefore, for the remainder of this term, you will join Hagrid on his duties in the Forbidden Forest twice a week. You will assist him in caring for the creatures and in understanding their habits. This will be an opportunity for you to hone your remarkable abilities in a controlled, supervised environment. And," Dumbledore added, a faint, knowing smile on his lips, "perhaps you might even introduce Hagrid to your… larger friends. He would be quite delighted, I believe."
Echo's impassive face remained unchanged, but a faint, almost imperceptible flicker of satisfaction passed through his emerald eyes. He gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod before telling in vague terms, "No need, Hagrid is very well acquainted with my larger friends."
Dumbledore smiled. "Excellent. Now, is there anything else you wish to discuss?"
Silence. The students, thoroughly chastened and bewildered, merely shook their heads.
"Very well," Dumbledore said, a dismissive wave of his hand. "You are dismissed. And do try to avoid any further… dragon-related incidents. They tend to draw attention."
The students rose, their movements stiff and awkward. As they filed out of the office, James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter cast resentful glances at Echo, who merely walked past them, his rainbow hair gleaming, Sniffles peeking out from his pocket with a triumphant chitter. Lily, however, lingered for a moment, catching Echo's eye.
"Thank you, Echo," she whispered, her voice soft. "For everything." She gave him a small thank-you kiss on the cheek.
Echo merely nodded, but stayed behind as he re-entered Dumbdore's office once more. As the gargoyle swung shut behind them, sealing off the anachronistic calm of Dumbledore's office, James Potter let out a long, aggrieved groan. "A month, Prongs!" Sirius Black exclaimed, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. "A whole month with Filch! Polishing bloody trophies!"
Remus Lupin, though paler than usual and still favoring his bandaged arm, managed a wry, bitter smile. "While Echo," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the closed stone wall, "gets to spend time with Hagrid and his 'larger friends.' Which, I assume, means more giant, castle-sized beasts that nearly give us heart attacks."
Peter Pettigrew whimpered, clutching Remus's sleeve. "He nearly killed us! He practically volunteered to stay in the forest! And he got rewarded for it!"
James slammed a fist lightly against the stone wall. "Exactly! We dye his hair a bit, and we get Filch! He sics a griffin on us, shows us a dragon that could swallow the Great Hall whole, and he gets field trips!"
"And what was that about him being 'well acquainted' with his larger friends?" Sirius added, his voice tinged with a fresh wave of bewildered horror. "He was talking to Hagrid like they were old mates, discussing his pet dragon!"
"He called it 'Wick,'" Remus interjected, a shiver running down his spine. "A dragon named Wick."
"It's completely unfair!" James protested, pacing the corridor. "We were just trying to have a bit of fun! And he almost… he almost got us eaten by a wolf! And then he showed us werewolves that weren't even werewolves, and made us dance with overgrown gnomes, and then… the unicorn! The actual, bloody unicorn!"
"And don't forget the Dementor part!" Peter squeaked. "He just casually mentioned he almost got his soul-ganked! No wonder he's… like that!"
Sirius scoffed, though his bravado was clearly forced. "Yeah, well, at least now we know. Not that anyone will believe us. 'Oh, you saw a griffin and a dragon? In the Forbidden Forest? With Echo?' They'll think we've lost our minds." He shuddered. "And I'm not sure they'd be wrong."
James sighed, rubbing his jaw. "We're going to be polishing trophies for a month, knowing that Echo is probably out there, teaching a giant spider how to play fetch." He groaned again. "This is the worst punishment ever."
Echo slipped back into Dumbledore's office, the gargoyle silently swiveling back into place behind him. Dumbledore, who had been organizing a pile of parchment on his desk, looked up, a faint, knowing smile on his lips.
"Ah, Echo, my boy," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "Returned so soon? Forgotten a lemon drop, perhaps? Sniffles was rather thorough, I fear."
Echo walked to the front of the desk, his rainbow hair gleaming. "Professor Dumbledore," he stated, his voice flat, "may we speak privately?"
Dumbledore's smile softened. "Of course, my dear boy. Do sit. I daresay this has something to do with your… rather vibrant hair?"
Echo nodded. "Part of it, yes."
Dumbledore leaned forward, his gaze thoughtful. "I confess, I have been contemplating your unique predicament. While it is certainly… striking, and indeed, rather effective at keeping certain individuals at bay, I believe I can reverse the enchantment. However," he paused, his eyes growing serious, "there may be some lingering side effects."
Echo's expression remained impassive. "What kind of side effects?"
Dumbledore gestured to a small, ornate mirror on a nearby shelf. "Come, stand before the mirror, and I shall demonstrate."
Echo, with a faint, almost imperceptible shrug, moved to stand in front of the mirror. Dumbledore rose, approaching him. He raised his wand, a soft, golden light emanating from the tip. "The spell that enchanted your hair was… deeply intertwined with your emotional state, Echo, amplified by the lingering effects of the Dementor's kiss. While I can restore its natural hue, the connection, I believe, will remain."
With a gentle flick of his wand, Dumbledore murmured, "Reparo Coloris."
A shimmering wave of golden light washed over Echo. The vibrant rainbow hues on his hair swirled and faded slowly, subtly, until they returned to their original deep, glossy black. It looked perfectly normal, indistinguishable from any other dark head of hair.
Echo ran a hand over his now-black hair, his expression faint and almost unreadable. "It's… black," he stated, his voice flat.
"Indeed," Dumbledore said, a soft smile returning. "Now, Echo, I want you to stand before the mirror and think of something that stirs an emotion within you. Anything at all."
Echo hesitated for a moment, then his eyes flickered, recalling the memory of the Marauders' bewildered faces after the griffin, or perhaps the unexpected joy of dancing with the Mooncalves. He focused on a surge of cold, pragmatic satisfaction.
As he did, a single strand of his now-black hair, just above his left ear, began to shimmer. Slowly, subtly, it shifted color, taking on a faint, almost imperceptible shade of emerald green – the color of his eyes when his emotions ran high.
Echo stared, his blank expression momentarily faltering.
Dumbledore nodded, observing with keen interest. "There it is. You see, Echo, while your hair appears normal, it will now act as a living mood stone. A reflection of your inner landscape. The more intensely you feel an emotion, the brighter and more pronounced the color will be. And," Dumbledore added, a faint, amused twinkle in his eyes, "in moments of truly profound emotional intensity, your entire head of hair may briefly shift to that dominant hue."
Echo slowly raised a hand, touching the emerald strand. His lips curled into a familiar, bloodless smirk, a clear sign of irritation. "So," he stated, his voice flat, a low, almost imperceptible growl rumbling in his chest, "I am now a glorified, walking, human mood ring. Splendid." The emerald strand, as if in response to his annoyance, deepened in color, becoming a richer, more vibrant green. "Just what I always wanted. Another public display of my… tedious internal workings."
Dumbledore merely chuckled, a soft, sympathetic sound. "Indeed, Echo. A rather… unique consequence. However, I sense there is more you wish to discuss. You asked for privacy? "
And yet, Echo, I sense a change within you. A subtle shift in the currents of your being."
Echo remained silent for a long moment, then slowly reached up, his fingers brushing against a strand of his previously rainbow hair. "During the… incident," he began, his voice a low, almost imperceptible murmur, "when my hair was turned… this… I felt a rage. A pure, unadulterated fury. And it was… potent."
Dumbledore listened patiently, his gaze unwavering.
"And then," Echo continued, his eyes, usually blank, holding a faint, almost imperceptible flicker, "when I unleashed the griffin, when I… when I attacked them… There was a satisfaction. A cold, undeniable satisfaction." He paused, then the flicker in his eyes seemed to grow, almost imperceptibly. "And later, Professor… during the detention… with the Mooncalves… I felt… joy. A nascent, fragile joy. It was there. It lingered and stayed."
Dumbledore's eyes widened, a profound understanding dawning in their depths. A genuine, radiant smile spread across his face, illuminating the room. "Echo," he said, his voice brimming with warmth, "my dear boy. That is truly wonderful news. To overcome such a void, to find a spark of emotion after what you endured… it is a testament to your remarkable spirit."
Echo's blank expression returned fully, though the faint pulse of his rainbow hair remained. "Yes," he stated, his voice flat. "It is… efficient. And effective." He then leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper. "However, Professor. I must insist that you do not mention this to anyone. Especially not the Marauders."
Dumbledore blinked, a flicker of amusement replacing his warmth. "And why ever not, Echo?"
"Because," Echo replied, his voice chillingly calm, "they will take credit. They will believe their childish, irritating prank was solely responsible for 'curing' me. And I simply cannot endure the smugness of their faces, or their endless attempts to 'help' me 'find' more joy. It would be… tedious. And frankly, I would sooner make love to a bogart before I ever give credit to Potter and his ilk."
Dumbledore chuckled, a soft, rumbling sound. "Ah, I see. A most pragmatic and entirely understandable request, Echo. Your secret is safe with me. They shall never know."
Echo nodded, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touching his lips. "Excellent."
"Was there something else?" Dumbledore inquired.
Echo straightened, his annoyance fading back into his usual impassivity. The emerald strand in his hair, however, remained. "There is, Professor. It concerns… something I discovered. Something I wanted to show you. And the other professors, if they could be gathered. It is… significant."
Dumbledore's eyes sharpened, losing their amusement. "Significant, you say?"
"A new magical discovery," Echo stated flatly, his gaze direct. "Potentially a very large one."
A beat of silence passed between them. Dumbledore studied Echo's unwavering gaze, then slowly nodded. "Very well. I shall summon them immediately. Please wait here."
Within minutes, the Head of Houses and several other senior professors began to arrive, their expressions ranging from curiosity to mild irritation at being summoned so abruptly. Professor McGonagall arrived first, her lips a tight line. Professor Flitwick bustled in, peering over his spectacles. Professor Sprout, looking a bit disheveled, gave a nervous glance at Echo. And Professor Cleen, his face a mask of profound disdain, entered last, his eyes immediately narrowing on Echo.
"Albus, may I inquire as to the urgency of this summons?" McGonagall asked, her voice crisp.
Dumbledore, however, turned to Echo, a rare, almost expectant look on his face. "Echo, my boy, you said you had a significant discovery to share with us."
Echo stepped forward, his newly black hair with its single emerald strand glinting faintly in the office light. He surveyed the assembled professors, his expression unreadable.
"Indeed, Professor," Echo stated, his voice flat, yet carrying an unusual weight. "I have discovered a way to… extend the reach of magic. To connect with a creature on a level previously thought impossible for a human." He paused, letting his words hang in the air. "A level that allows for a new form of… interaction. What I call 'Beast Magic.'"
A ripple of skeptical murmurs ran through the professors. Cleen merely scoffed. "Preposterous. Childish fantasies."
Echo ignored him. He raised his black wand, his hand steady, his eyes fixed on the empty space before them. The emerald strand in his hair seemed to intensify, a vibrant flicker against the dark. He didn't speak a spell, but a low, guttural hum, almost a vibration, emanated from him. It was a sound that resonated deep within the very fabric of the room.
The air in the office grew thick, charged with an invisible energy. The silver instruments on Dumbledore's desk whirred faster, their delicate mechanisms spinning wildly. Fawkes, on his perch, let out a soft, melodious trill, his golden feathers glowing with an inner light.
Then, slowly, shimmering into existence from thin air, forms began to coalesce. First, faint, ethereal outlines, then growing substance, until a full-grown unicorn and a small unicorn foal, their coats of pure, incandescent white gleaming, their spiraling horns catching the office light, stood before them. They were magnificent, their intelligent eyes wide and calm, their powerful bodies radiating an aura of profound purity and ancient magic.
Silence, profound and utter, descended upon the room. The professors stared, their faces a mixture of disbelief, awe, and utter astonishment. Cleen's sneer had vanished completely, replaced by a look of shocked, unadulterated horror. McGonagall gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Flitwick's spectacles nearly fell off his nose.
Echo lowered his wand, his expression as blank as ever. The emerald strand in his hair, however, pulsed with a vivid, undeniable green.
"As you can see," Echo stated, his voice flat and calm, as if conjuring unicorns was an everyday occurrence. "It is indeed possible. This is Skip, the mare I rescued from poachers. And this," he added, gesturing to the foal now nuzzling against Skip's flank, "is Chip, her baby."
Chip whinnied softly, nuzzling its head against Echo's leg. Echo reached down, stroking the foal's head with an almost imperceptible tenderness. Sniffles, peeking out from Echo's pocket, chittered excitedly, his tiny eyes fixed on the shimmering creatures.
Dumbledore was the first to speak after a long moment of stunned silence. His eyes, usually twinkling with amusement, were wide with profound awe. "Echo, my boy," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "this is… this is truly extraordinary. A patronus, perhaps, but with tangible form? A summoning of immense power?"
Echo shook his head. "Neither, Professor. It's… a connection. A bond forged through intent and affinity, allowing me to draw them to me, even across great distances. It's not a spell in the traditional sense. More like… an extension of my will, a bridge between minds." He paused, looking at the marveling professors. "It is, as I said, Beast Magic."
Professor Cleen, however, finally found his voice, a sneer twisting his face. "Nonsense! A parlor trick! A clever illusion, nothing more! You cannot simply conjure creatures from the Forbidden Forest into the Headmaster's office! It defies every known law of Transfiguration and Conjuration!"
"It defies your known laws, Cleen," Echo stated flatly, his emerald-tinged hair flickering with annoyance. "Perhaps your understanding of magic is merely… limited."
Cleen's face flushed a furious red. "How dare you, you insolent brat! I have studied magic for decades! I know what is possible and what is not!"
"And yet," Echo countered, his voice chillingly calm, "here they are. Are you implying they are not real? That the magic emanating from them, the very life force you can feel, is a fabrication?"
As if on cue, Skip, the mare, lowered her head and nudged Professor Cleen's outstretched, trembling hand with her soft muzzle. Cleen recoiled as if burned, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and utter disbelief.
Professor McGonagall, recovering her composure, stepped forward, her eyes fixed on the unicorns with a deep, almost reverent fascination. "But how, Echo? How did you achieve this? What is the incantation? The wand movement?"
Echo shrugged. "There is none. It's a process of… deep understanding of connection. I spent the summer, after my… incident, learning to communicate. To feel what they feel. To share my will with theirs. By using my magic, unusual nature, my drak affinity, my connection to a certain creature, and the baseline understanding of apparition, I made a spell that can allow me to summon a creature at will from any distance." He looked at the unicorn mare. "Skip had her baby, Chip, after the poachers trapped her. I found her injured. I helped her. And now… we are connected."
Professor Flitwick, his small frame almost quivering with excitement, bounced on the balls of his feet. "Fascinating! Truly revolutionary! A new branch of magic! This… this could change everything we know about magical creature interaction!"
Professor Bloom, still a little disheveled but her eyes shining with wonder, nodded vigorously. "Indeed! Imagine the possibilities for conservation! For understanding the natural world!"
Dumbledore, his gaze still fixed on the majestic unicorns, finally let out a soft sigh, a profound, almost joyful sound. "A magnificent gift, Echo," he murmured, his voice filled with warmth. "A testament to the resilience of magic, and indeed, to your own remarkable spirit." He turned to the assembled professors. "Gentlemen, Professor Cleen, I believe what we are witnessing here is not a trick, but a profound evolution. Echo has indeed discovered something extraordinary."
Cleen, however, remained rigid, his face a mask of furious denial. "This is irresponsible, Albus! Bringing untamed beasts into the castle! And encouraging such… such reckless abandonment of traditional magical practice! This boy is dangerous!"
Echo's emerald hair flared, and his lips curled into that terrifying, bloodless smile. "Dangerous?" he purred, his voice a low, menacing whisper. "Perhaps. But also… effective. Would you prefer I had left the poachers to their work, Professor Cleen? Or allowed the forest to remain a place of utter fear for these students?" He gestured vaguely towards the door where the Marauders and Lily had left.
Dumbledore raised a hand, his eyes sharp. "That is enough, Echo. Professor Cleen, while I understand your… apprehension, I assure you that Echo's abilities are a gift, albeit one that requires careful nurturing. And as for the safety of the castle, I trust Echo implicitly."
He turned back to Echo, his expression thoughtful. "This 'Beast Magic,' Echo. Is it applicable to all creatures? Or only those with whom you have forged such a bond?"
Echo paused, considering. "It deepens with a bond, yes. But the initial connection… it seems to be inherent. A natural affinity. Some creatures are more receptive than others. And some require a… different approach." He thought of Wick, then of the Mooncalves.
"And is it only for magical creatures?" McGonagall asked, her brow furrowed.
Echo shrugged. "I haven't tried with non-magical creatures. They're usually… boring."
Cleen scoffed again, though his voice was less confident. "And what purpose does this 'Beast Magic' serve, other than a grandstanding display?"
Echo looked directly at Cleen, his eyes blazing with a cold, piercing intensity. "It serves to protect," he stated, his voice flat and cutting. "To understand. To bring balance where chaos prevails. And," he added, a faint, chilling smirk touching his lips, "to remind arrogant fools that there is always more to magic than they can ever imagine. Also, consider that if you're in a pinch and need a new ingredient that you can't otherwise find. Summon that beast you have a connection with and collect it. Or if you're in a fight for your life, imagine if your enemies' faces when they see you bring outa Graphorn to mow them down."
Cleen would never say it aloud, but he did like the sound of that.
The unicorns, as if sensing the shift in mood, began to shimmer, their forms growing translucent.
"They're leaving," Flitwick whispered, his eyes wide.
"Indeed," Echo said, his voice softer now. "They have served their purpose. Thank you, Skip. Thank you, Chip." He gave a final, gentle stroke to Chip's head, and with a final, ethereal shimmer, the two unicorns vanished completely, leaving only the scent of wild jasmine and the faint hum of residual magic in the air.
Dumbledore nodded slowly, a profound understanding in his eyes. "Echo," he said, his voice deep with conviction, "this is indeed a momentous discovery. We must… we must discuss this further. Much further. Perhaps a dedicated course of study? Or perhaps a joint research project with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?"
Echo merely shrugged, his expression returning to its usual impassivity. The emerald strand in his hair, however, remained a vibrant green. "Whatever you deem necessary, Professor. As long as it is not… tedious."
"With continued study in this branch of magic," Echo stated, his voice flat, "I believe I can achieve even more. For instance, by integrating principles of Transfiguration, it may be possible to selectively transfer aspects of one creature to another, or even to myself. Imagine the applications: increased strength, enhanced speed, superior durability, or even heightened magical resistance."
Professor Flitwick, his eyes sparkling with renewed excitement, bounced up and down enthusiastically. "Remarkable! Oh, to be taller! Or to have wings! Or even to breathe fire!"
Professor McGonagall, however, gave a stern look. "You cannot turn yourself into a dragon for amusement, Filius."
Flitwick waved her off, a mischievous glint in his eye. "No fun at all, Minerva, no fun at all."
Echo's lips curled into a faint, bloodless smile. "Exactly, Professor Flitwick. Though perhaps not breathing fire, at least not without… significant preparation. But the potential is immense. Imagine the capacity to enhance the natural abilities of our Aurors, for example. Or to aid in healing, by temporarily imbuing a weak patient with the regenerative properties of a Fwooper, or the resilience of an Ashwinder, even if for a temporary time."
Professor Bloom, who had been listening intently, gasped. "That… that would be extraordinary, Echo! The possibilities for Herbology, too! Imagine enhancing plants with increased growth rates or resistance to diseases! If you could rewrite the spell to add the effects permanently."
"Indeed, Professor Bloom," Echo stated, his voice flat. "The applications are widespread. And with further refinement of the Beast Magic, combined with other branches of magic, I believe we could achieve even greater feats. Perhaps even… the creation of entirely new magical creatures, combining the most desirable traits of existing ones."
A stunned silence filled the room. This concept bordered on the sacrilegious, pushing the boundaries of magical understanding beyond anything they had ever conceived.
Professor Cleen finally broke the silence, his voice tight with outrage. "This is madness! Playing God with magical creatures? This is not magic; this is an abomination! You speak of engineering life, boy!"
Echo turned his blank gaze to Cleen, his emerald hair flaring with a cold intensity. "And what, pray tell, is wrong with that, Professor? Isn't every new spell, every new potion, a form of engineering? Isn't the very act of growing a magical plant, or breeding a new familiar, a form of shaping life?" His voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "Perhaps you fear what you do not understand, Cleen. Perhaps you fear progress."
Dumbledore, sensing the rising tension, cleared his throat. "That is enough, gentlemen. Echo, your proposals are… revolutionary. And indeed, quite audacious. But they merit careful consideration. This is not a discussion to be rushed." He turned to the other professors, his eyes serious. "We will convene a special committee to study this 'Beast Magic' further. Echo, you will, of course, be instrumental in this endeavor."
Echo merely nodded, his expression unreadable.
Professor McGonagall, her stern expression softening, stepped forward and placed a firm but gentle hand on Echo's shoulder. "Echo," she said, her voice unusually quiet. "If you are truly intending to pursue this path, this… integration of creature abilities, then I insist you come to me. For Transfiguration. Repeatedly. We cannot have you accidentally giving someone, or indeed yourself, a permanent set of horns. Or worse." Her lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. "This is a delicate and potentially dangerous branch of magic, and precision is paramount."
She paused, her gaze thoughtful. "Furthermore, you must begin to document all of this. Every theory, every experiment, every observation. This is not merely extra credit, Echo; it is a new opportunity. A groundbreaking one. By the time you graduate, should your research prove sound and safe, I will personally take your findings to the Ministry to advocate for its implementation. But you must thoroughly research every avenue this may bring, positive and negative."
Echo merely nodded, his expression unreadable, but a faint, almost imperceptible gleam of satisfaction shone in an emerald-tinged streak of hair. "Understood, Professor."