The air grew colder as Echo walked, the vibrant hues of the Great Hall and the lingering scent of pumpkin spice fading with each step. He found himself drawn, as he often was, to the edges of the Forbidden Forest, but today, a different path beckoned. The Black Lake, usually a distant, shimmering expanse, seemed to call to him. Its vast, dark surface, disturbed only by a gentle breeze, hinted at hidden depths and secrets. Echo approached cautiously, his black hair with its constant emerald streak reflecting the muted afternoon light. He never ventured too close to the water's edge; the thought of plunging into its cold, murky embrace filled him with a primal, illogical dread. He couldn't swim, a fact he considered a glaring deficiency in his otherwise meticulously curated skill set.
He skirted the shore, his keen eyes observing the subtle movements on the water's surface and the darting shadows beneath. It was a place of quiet contemplation, a stark contrast to the boisterous castle. As he rounded a small, rocky inlet, a faint, distressed sound reached his ears—a high-pitched, almost musical cry, tinged with pain. Echo paused, his senses immediately alert. The sound came from a cluster of submerged rocks further along the shore, where the water swirled more aggressively.
Moving with silent efficiency, Echo approached, pushing aside thick reeds and damp moss. What he saw made him stop short, his usually impassive expression faltering for a fraction of a second. Tangled amidst a snarl of sharp, barnacle-encrusted rocks was a young mermaid, clearly no older than himself. Her tail, a breathtaking cascade of iridescent scales in shades of sapphire and emerald, thrashed weakly, caught fast in a narrow crevice. Her long, silken hair, the color of moonlight on water, was plastered to her pale face, revealing wide, panicked eyes the precise shade of the deepest ocean. Her delicate, webbed hands clutched at the unforgiving stone, tears streaming down her face. She was beautiful, even in distress, a creature of exquisite, otherworldly grace.
Echo's emerald hair flared, a brief, angry crimson replacing it before settling back into a determined, focused green. He couldn't swim, but he could assess the situation. The water around her was shallow enough for him to wade, but the rocks were treacherous, sharp. He saw a jagged piece of debris, likely from an old fishing boat, snagged just below the surface, its splintered edges threatening to tear her delicate scales further.
He dropped to his knees at the water's edge, oblivious to the cold seeping into his robes. "Do not move," Echo commanded, his voice flat but firm, cutting through her whimpers. "You are caught. I will free you."
The mermaid looked up, her wide, terrified eyes meeting his. She seemed to hesitate, then, recognizing the unusual clarity and intent in his gaze, nodded weakly.
Echo extended his black wand, but quickly withdrew it. A standard severing charm would work, but it might harm her. This required precision, a delicate touch. He knelt further, bracing himself against a larger rock, then plunged his bare hands into the icy water. The cold was shocking, but Echo ignored it, his focus absolute. He carefully and painstakingly began to clear the debris, his fingers brushing against the sharp barnacles and the cold, unyielding rock. The mermaid flinched with each movement, but remained still, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
It was slow, arduous work. His fingers grew numb, and a sharp pain lanced through his palm as a particularly nasty barnacle scraped his skin, but he persevered. Finally, with a soft splash, the last piece of debris shifted. The mermaid's tail, though scraped and bleeding, was free. She gave a small, choked gasp of relief, pushing herself forward with newfound strength, swimming a short distance into the deeper water, away from the treacherous shore.
She turned back to him, her eyes no longer panicked, now filled with a profound, shimmering gratitude. Her long, moonlight-colored hair floated around her like a living halo, and her face, now free of tears, was even more stunning. Echo found himself, against his will, utterly mesmerized. The emerald streak in his hair pulsed, then a faint, almost imperceptible thread of iridescent blue began to weave its way through the green, reflecting a new, unfamiliar emotion – something akin to awe, even fascination.
The mermaid swam closer, her beautiful face tilting slightly. She extended a delicate, webbed hand towards him, her fingers brushing lightly against his scraped palm. The touch sent a strange, electric current through Echo, and the blue in his hair deepened, becoming a vibrant, undeniable sapphire.
She opened her mouth, and a series of soft, melodic clicks and trills escaped her lips – a language Echo didn't understand, yet somehow conveyed profound thanks. She smiled, a radiant, captivating sight.
Echo, still kneeling, felt a strange lightness in his chest. He realized she was about to leave. She was already beginning to turn, her shimmering tail preparing to propel her back into the depths. A sudden, uncharacteristic surge of… something akin to panic, mixed with a desperate desire, flooded him. He had no protocol for this and no logical next step.
"Wait!" Echo blurted out, his voice flat, but betraying an uncharacteristic urgency. It was a dumb, unrefined question, barely escaping his lips before she submerged. "Your name?"
The mermaid paused, turning back, her ocean-deep eyes meeting his once more. She smiled again, a soft, knowing curve of her lips.
"Skate," she whispered, her voice a soft, melodic murmur that resonated deep within Echo's chest, a sound that seemed to shimmer on the surface of the Black Lake before she vanished beneath the dark water, leaving only ripples and the scent of wild kelp in the air.
Echo stood by the shore of the Black Lake long after Skate had disappeared, the sapphire thread in his hair deepening, then fading, then flaring again. The unexpected surge of feeling, the captivating image of her face, the melodic whisper of her name—it churned within him, a bewildering, persistent hum that defied his usual analytical processes. It was illogical. It was inefficient. And yet, it refused to be dismissed.
He returned to the castle, but the quiet satisfaction of his Beast Magic and the meticulous organization of his notes offered no solace. Every thought, every internal dialogue, seemed to loop back to Skate. He found himself replaying the moment she touched his hand, the strange current that had jolted through him. He recalled the flash of blue in his hair, a color he now instinctively linked to this unsettling, yet undeniably potent, sensation.
The feeling grew, not dissipating like most fleeting curiosities. It was a constant thrum beneath his usual impassivity, a persistent itch he couldn't scratch. It was… a need. A desperate, illogical need to see her again, to understand this burgeoning emotion, to… to act on it. The thought of not acting on it, of letting this bizarre, beautiful anomaly fade, began to feel like a slow, insidious form of internal decay. It was maddening. It was, quite possibly, driving him insane.
He needed data, counsel, and someone who understood creatures and perhaps the baffling complexities of human (or even mer-human) interaction. There was only one logical choice.
Later that evening, Echo made his way to Hagrid's hut, the usual distant rumble of the giant's activities a comforting constant. He knocked on the heavy wooden door, the sound surprisingly loud in the quiet twilight.
"Come in, come in!" Hagrid's booming voice rumbled from within.
Echo stepped inside, the familiar scent of woodsmoke, treacle, and various (sometimes questionable) animal byproducts filling his nostrils. Hagrid, seated by a roaring fire, was attempting to knit what appeared to be a tea cozy for a very large, possibly hippogriff-sized, teapot. Fang, the boarhound, lifted his head and gave a lazy thump of his tail.
"Evenin', Echo, me boy!" Hagrid grinned, his face ruddy in the firelight. "What brings yeh all the way out here? Not lost, are yeh? Or perhaps you've found a new creature to catalog?"
Echo shifted awkwardly, a rare display of discomfort. The emerald strand in his hair flickered, a nervous, almost imperceptible sapphire thread weaving through it. "Good evening, Hagrid," he stated, his voice flat, but a subtle tremor ran through it. "I… I have a query. A hypothetical, you understand. Purely theoretical."
Hagrid raised a bushy eyebrow. "Hypothetical, eh? Go on then, me boy."
"Let us postulate," Echo began, his gaze fixed on a crack in the stone floor, avoiding Hagrid's direct stare, "a situation. One in which a… a magical individual. Possesses a certain… affinity for creatures. And let us further postulate that this individual encounters a… a water-dwelling creature of exquisite form. And a… a profound, inexplicable sensation… emanates. From the interaction. A… a feeling that is… not entirely logical." The emerald in his hair turned a fleeting, agitated crimson, then back to emerald, then a frustrated, confused violet.
Hagrid slowly put down his knitting. "A feeling, yeh say?" he prompted gently.
"Indeed," Echo continued, pushing on, his words coming out a little faster, a rare hint of desperation in his tone. The colors in his hair now flashed a chaotic medley: emerald, sapphire, crimson, a brief, frustrated flash of yellow, then back to violet. "This feeling, it…it persists. It interferes with optimal cognitive function. It creates a… a desire. An illogical, yet overpowering, desire to… to interact further. To… to establish a… a deeper… connection." He finally looked up, his blank eyes wide, the myriad colors in his hair pulsing wildly. "Hagrid, what precisely does one do when one wants to… to smooch a mermaid?" his hair exploded into several shades of pink.
Silence.
Hagrid stared. Then, slowly, a wide, genuine, delighted grin spread across his face, shaking his massive frame with silent laughter. Fang whined softly, sensing his master's amusement.
"Smooch a mermaid, yeh say, Echo?" Hagrid finally boomed, his laughter filling the hut. "Bless yer heart, me boy! So that's what this 'hypothetical' is about, eh? You're feelin' a bit of… of love, are yeh? Or somethin' close to it, at least! Oh, that's just grand! That's the strongest magic of all, that is! Best thing fer yer desensitization, that'll be! You're making great leaps and bounds in recovering from the dementor!" He clapped Echo heartily on the shoulder, almost sending him sprawling.
Echo, momentarily stunned by Hagrid's enthusiastic reaction, felt the chaotic riot in his hair subside, replaced by a deep, pulsing sapphire. "Love?" he repeated, the word tasting foreign on his tongue. "Is that… is that what this feeling is called?"
Hagrid beamed. "Aye, me boy, I reckon so! Now, tell old Hagrid all about it. Who is she? What happened?"
Surprisingly, Echo found himself doing just that. He recounted the incident at Black Lake, the trapped mermaid, his careful extraction of her, her beautiful, grateful eyes, and the whisper of her name—Skate. He described the strange electric current that ran through him when she touched him and the persistent, maddening allure she now held.
"And now," Echo concluded, his voice flat, but with an underlying current of genuine perplexity, "I wish to… to charm her. To… to woo her, as I believe the expression goes. But my knowledge of merfolk is… limited to their biological classifications and their general aversion to human contact. I am entirely lacking in anything regarding proper mer-courtship rituals. Or indeed, any form of courtship ritual." The sapphire in his hair deepened, tinged with a faint, almost imperceptible golden thread of burgeoning hope.
Hagrid listened, his gaze softening, a look of profound understanding in his kind eyes. "Ah, well, Echo, me boy," he said, leaning forward. "Merfolk are a bit… particular, alright. Secretive folk, they are. Don't much care for land-dwellers. But there's a few things old Hagrid knows. They're fierce, loyal, and proud. And they value courage, honesty, and a good heart. And… they love music. Deep, mournful music or cheerful music. And they like shiny things, sometimes. But not just any shiny things, mind. Natural, beautiful things. Like pearls, or polished stones from the deepest parts o' the lake. Or objective with stories, they love that as well. Things that show yeh've put in effort. They love trying new things, like food, give em something frok the land but you gotta make it yer self. And they don't much like loud noises, unless it's a storm. Or a whale song."
Hagrid paused, stroking Fang's head. "And they don't speak our tongue, mostly. But they understand more than yeh'd think, especially if yer honest and true. A mermaid can always tell if you're lying or honest. And they're always on the lookout for danger in the lake. Anything that threatens their home, they'll know about it." He looked at Echo, his eyes twinkling. "So, if yeh want to 'smooch' a mermaid, Echo, I reckon yeh start by showin' her yer true self. And maybe… maybe a quiet song. Or a shiny pebble from the bottom o' the lake."
Echo considered this, his face still impassive, but the sapphire and gold in his hair pulsed with a thoughtful, almost excited glow. "A quiet song," he repeated, the concept entirely foreign. "And a shiny pebble. Understood, Hagrid. Thank you for the… information."
"Anytime, me boy," Hagrid chuckled, picking up his hippogriff tea cozy. "Just remember, Echo. When it comes to love, sometimes the best magic is just… bein' yerself."
Echo returned to the castle, his mind a whirlwind of new, bewildering emotions and Hagrid's rather unscientific advice. Smooch a mermaid. Show her his true self. A quiet song. A shiny pebble. It was all so… un-Echo. But the sapphire and gold in his hair pulsed with a persistent warmth, a testament to the unfamiliar longing that now consumed him.
His first task was the pebble. Not just any pebble, but one from the deepest part of the lake, as Hagrid had suggested. This presented a logistical challenge of considerable magnitude, given his inability to swim. He spent the better part of the following morning in the Room of Requirement, meticulously researching methods for underwater retrieval. He finally settled on a combination of a modified Accio charm, infused with a minor levitation spell, and a deeply unpopular, rarely used tracking spell designed for lost Quidditch balls in submerged lakes. It was inefficient, requiring him to repeatedly cast the charm and track the minuscule magical signature of each potential pebble, but it was, he concluded, the most logical approach.
Hours later, after countless attempts and numerous soaked sleeves, he finally held it: a small, perfectly smooth obsidian pebble, reflecting the light with an almost ethereal sheen. It wasn't sparkling, but it had a deep, quiet beauty. He felt a flicker of satisfaction, the emerald in his hair briefly tinged with a confident green.
Next, the song. This was even more problematic. Echo had no musical inclination whatsoever. His voice, once capable of subtle inflections, now mostly resided in a flat monotone. He considered enchanting a small, self-playing lute, but decided against it; Hagrid had stressed authenticity, and a pre-programmed instrument felt disingenuous. He settled on a simple, wordless hum, a series of soft, resonant notes that he hoped would convey sincerity. He practiced in the empty classroom, the melody surprisingly mournful, echoing the quiet ache in his chest.
Finally, a gift from the land, something homemade. He spent a laborious hour in the kitchens, much to the amusement of the house elves, meticulously crafting a small, delicate chocolate confection infused with hints of wild berries he had carefully gathered from the Forbidden Forest. He knew Skate appreciated new experiences, and chocolate, for him, was a newfound delight he was eager to share.
Armed with the pebble, the chocolate, and his rehearsed hum, Echo returned to the Black Lake at twilight, the air crisp and still. The obsidian pebble nestled in his palm, the chocolate carefully wrapped in a leaf, and the hum, a nervous tremor, resonated in his throat. He walked to the exact spot where he had found Skate, the water calm and dark.
He stood by the shore, waiting. Minutes stretched into an hour. He cleared his throat and attempted the hum, but it felt thin and reedy in the vast silence. He held out the pebble and then the chocolate as if she could see them. The sapphire in his hair, which had been a vibrant hue of anticipation, began to dull, replaced by a frustrated, agitated violet.
He paced the shoreline, casting worried glances at the dark water. How was he supposed to get her attention? He couldn't shout her name; it would betray his location and likely startle any other creatures. He had no way of signaling her, no merfolk equivalent of a Patronus. He felt a cold, familiar wave of inefficiency wash over him, a sense of utter futility. His detailed planning had overlooked the most basic step: communication.
The violet in his hair deepened, tinged with a sharp, fleeting crimson of pure irritation at his own oversight. He was an idiot. He had come all this way, felt all these illogical emotions, and now he was stuck. He sighed, a defeated sound, and began to turn away, the weight of his failed endeavor settling heavily upon him.
Then, a ripple. A soft, almost imperceptible disturbance on the water's surface, directly in front of him. And then, slowly, gracefully, Skate emerged, her moonlight-colored hair drifting around her, her ocean-deep eyes fixed on him. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, bathed in the fading light.
Echo froze, his breath catching. The violet and crimson in his hair vanished, replaced by a sudden, breathtaking explosion of pure, vibrant pink, tinged with glittering gold.
"Skate!" he blurted out, his voice flat but imbued with an undeniable, uncharacteristic warmth, a sound he hadn't known he could produce. "You… you're here. I… I wasn't sure how to… to contact you. I'm glad you came." He then remembered, with a jolt, that he had never introduced himself. "I am Echo," he added, a faint, almost imperceptible flush rising on his pale cheeks.
He knelt, holding out the obsidian pebble. "This is a gift," he stated, his voice still flat, but earnest. "It is a pebble from the deepest part of the lake. I retrieved it specifically for you. It is smooth. And it has a story. Of its journey." He then held out the chocolate, carefully unwrapped. "And this is also a gift. It is a confection of chocolate and berries, from the land. I created it. It is… new. To your palate, perhaps. And it is delicious."
He looked at her, his pink and gold hair pulsing with a silent, overwhelming question: " Do you like them?"
Skate gazed at the gifts, then at him, her beautiful lips curved in a soft, enigmatic smile. She didn't speak. She merely tilted her head, her eyes unreadable. Echo's golden-tinged pink hair began to fade, a dull, disappointed grey seeping into the vibrant colors. His shoulders slumped.
"You don't understand me," he murmured, his voice flat once more, tinged with a profound, bitter resignation. "Of course. My vocalizations are… rudimentary. You probably think I sound like a… a dumb monkey. I knew this was illogical."
Skate's smile widened, a soft, melodic hum escaping her lips. She reached out, her webbed hand gently taking the obsidian pebble from his outstretched palm. She examined it, turning it over, her eyes sparkling with appreciation. Then, with a delicate grace, she brought the chocolate to her nose, inhaling its scent deeply before taking a tentative bite. Her eyes widened, a look of pure delight spreading across her face. She made a soft, happy trilling sound, a clear indication of approval.
Then, to Echo's astonishment, she reached forward and, with a swift, playful motion, gently booped his nose with her own. It was a light, ethereal touch, like the brush of a soft feather, yet it sent a jolt through him, a strange, electric warmth spreading through his entire being. His now grey and disappointed hair exploded once more into a vibrant, brilliant pink, tinged with shimmering gold, pulsating with a joyous, almost overwhelming intensity.
She then pulled him forward, closer to the water's edge, her eyes twinkling with a clear invitation. Echo, still reeling from the unexpected contact and the joyous explosion of color in his hair, hesitated for a moment. He couldn't swim. But then he looked into her ocean-deep eyes, and the illogical, desperate longing to be closer to her, to understand this inexplicable connection, overwhelmed him.
He took a breath, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor running through him, and stepped into the cold, dark water, utterly heedless of his previous aversion. The water instantly rose to his waist, chilling him to the bone, but he barely noticed. Skate, still smiling, took his hand and gently pulled him further, deeper, until the water was at his chest.
She then began to sing. Her voice, a cascade of melodic trills and mournful, haunting notes, filled the air, resonating deep within Echo's very core. It was a song of the deep, of shimmering currents and ancient secrets, of silent beauty and the fierce, unyielding heart of the lake. Echo, mesmerized, found himself closing his eyes, letting the ethereal music wash over him, immersing him in a world he had never known existed. He felt the sapphire and gold in his hair pulse in time with her song, a perfect, harmonious melody of color and emotion.
When her song finally ended, a profound silence descended, broken only by the gentle lapping of the water. Echo opened his eyes. Skate was still looking at him, her smile soft, her eyes full of a warm, knowing acceptance. She gently squeezed his hand, then, with a playful flick of her iridescent tail, she pulled him forward, and with a soft splash, they both submerged beneath the surface of the Black Lake.
Echo expected the icy cold, the suffocating pressure, the desperate need for air. Instead, there was… nothing. The water enveloped him like a soft, warm blanket. He could breathe. He could see. He could hear, with astonishing clarity, the faint, shimmering music of the deep, the distant hum of merfolk voices, the gentle rustle of underwater plants. His vision, usually so precise on land, seemed to expand, taking in the vibrant, otherworldly beauty of the Black Lake's depths: shimmering schools of fish, ancient, moss-covered stones, and the faint, phosphorescent glow of unknown flora.
Skate's hand was still in his, warm and reassuring. She smiled, her eyes dancing with amusement, as if she knew precisely the astonishment he felt. The golden-tinged pink in his hair pulsed with sheer, unadulterated wonder, a feeling so potent it almost overwhelmed his senses. He wasn't just observing. He was experiencing. She led him through the watery landscape, past merfolk dwellings carved into rocky formations, past schools of gracefully swimming creatures, past shimmering grottoes filled with unseen lights. He didn't know how long they swam, but time seemed to lose all meaning. It was an immersion, a complete sensory overload of beauty and wonder, unlike anything he had ever encountered.
Finally, she brought him to a secluded, shimmering cave, filled with bioluminescent algae that cast a soft, ethereal glow. Here, amidst the quiet beauty, Skate came to a stop. She turned to him, her hand still holding his. Her ocean-deep eyes met his, and a faint, almost imperceptible blush rose on her pale cheeks. She leaned closer, her moonlight-colored hair drifting around her like a veil.
And then, softly, tenderly, she pressed her lips to his.
It was a delicate kiss, brief yet profound. It was salt and cool water, the faint taste of something wild and free. It was illogical. It was inefficient. It was everything Echo had never known he needed. And as her lips met his, a silent, breathtaking explosion of every color imaginable flared through his hair—a kaleidoscope of pinks and golds, blues and greens, violets and crimsons, all swirling and blending in a vibrant, living testament to the raw, untamed, utterly overwhelming emotion that bloomed in his hollow core.
He felt it all: the awe, wonder, fascination, fear, determination, exasperation, joy, amusement, irritation, embarrassment, triumph, longing, and absolute, undeniable, bewildering, beautiful, terrifying, glorious, complete, illogical, powerful love. It was no longer just the emerald streak of detached observation. It was every color. Every emotion. Fully, irrevocably present.
When she finally pulled back, her eyes were shining. Echo stared at her, then, with a rare, deliberate movement, reached up and touched his fingers to his lips. A soft, almost imperceptible smile, utterly devoid of bloodlessness, touched his lips.
"Skate," he whispered, his voice still flat, but with a new, resonant depth, a clear, unmistakable warmth that had never been there before. "That… that was not illogical. That was… highly efficient. And entirely… necessary."
Skate giggled, and a soft, melodic sound echoed through the cave, bringing a fresh wave of golden joy to Echo's multicolored hair. She squeezed his hand once more and gently pulled him deeper into the shimmering depths, into her world. For the first time in his life, Echo felt truly, irrevocably, complete.
The familiar, oppressive scent of various brewing concoctions hung heavy in the Potions classroom, a comforting normalcy for Severus Snape, and usually for Echo as well. Today, however, the air felt charged with an undercurrent of irritation – Severus's irritation, to be precise. They were working on a complex project, a bespoke healing draught for various magical creature ailments, a task requiring meticulous precision. Echo, supposedly assisting, was, in Severus's estimation, being entirely useless.
"Stir, Echo, not contemplate the existential dread of a particularly stubborn newt eye," Severus drawled, his voice a low hiss, as he meticulously crushed a handful of moon-dew leaves. He cast a sharp glance at Echo, who was leaning over their cauldron, stirring languidly with his wand, his gaze distant, and a soft, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. His black hair, usually a stark backdrop to the emerald streak, was a riot of soft pinks and shimmering golds, pulsing with a gentle, undeniable radiance that Severus found utterly nauseating.
Echo merely hummed, a tuneless, almost content sound, his eyes still unfocused. "The newt eye, Severus, is merely a component. The true contemplation lies in the intricate interplay of molecular structures. Fascinating." The pink in his hair deepened, a vibrant, almost luminescent hue.
Severus snorted. "Fascinating, indeed. You're meant to be focusing on the solubility of the powdered dragon claw, not contemplating the hypothetical consciousness of an amphibian eyeball. We are trying to stabilize a particularly volatile Gillyweed extract, remember? This requires your undivided attention." He gestured to a small, glistening bundle of the aquatic plant on the table beside them. "This is an experimental application. The effects are… unknown."
Echo, however, seemed to register his words barely. He continued to stir, his hair a constant, shimmering display of his internal bliss. "Gillyweed," he murmured, his voice flat but tinged with an unfamiliar softness. "A fascinating plant. Adaptation. Transformation." The gold in his hair flared, briefly outlining a soft, shimmering heart shape against the pink.
Severus slammed his pestle down. "Echo! Are you even listening to me? You've been utterly… distracted all afternoon. Is this about that… that incident with the mermaid? Because I assure you, mer-courtship rituals are not conducive to precise potion-making!"
Echo turned his blank gaze to Severus, his pink and gold hair pulsing. "Skate," he corrected softly, then returned his attention to the cauldron, his wand circling slowly. "Her name is Skate. And yes, she is… a significant variable in my current cognitive processes. My estimations of her inherent beauty and captivating presence are, to put it mildly, significantly elevated. And her smile… it is quite… illuminating."
Severus let out a long, suffering sigh. This was worse than he'd thought. The boy was utterly besotted. He ran a hand through his greasy hair, trying to regain his composure. "Very well, Echo. Just… stir the potion. Continuously. And do not deviate from the instructions. I need to retrieve the crystallized Fwooper tears from the storage cabinet. They are crucial for the final stabilizing agent."
Severus turned and strode towards the back of the classroom, muttering darkly about the emotional fragility of even the most logically inclined students. He rummaged through the shelves, his back to the cauldron, lost in thought.
Echo was left to his own devices and continued to stir. His mind, however, was miles away, swimming in the warm, clear depths of the Black Lake, replaying Skate's melodic song and the intoxicating sensation of her lips on his. He stirred, and stirred, and stirred, the potion bubbling gently. Then, without thinking, entirely on autopilot, his wand, still immersed in the potion, felt sticky. A habit, ingrained from years of potion-making, took over. He pulled his wand out of the cauldron, tapped it against the rim to clean off any excess, and then, completely unconsciously, licked the tip clean. A small, satisfied sigh escaped him. The taste was… not unpleasant. A faint, almost imperceptible tingle spread across his tongue.
Severus, who had just turned back, Fwooper tears in hand, froze. His eyes, usually impassive, widened in horror. He stared at Echo, then at the still-dripping wand, then back at Echo's utterly oblivious, pink and gold-streaked face.
"Echo!" Severus hissed, his voice dangerously low. "What in Merlin's name did you just do?!"
Echo blinked, looking at him, then at his wand, then at his still-damp tongue. The pink and gold in his hair pulsed with a brief, almost comical, flicker of surprise, then settled back into its blissful radiance.
"Oh," Echo stated flatly. "Oops. I… I licked my wand. It was… a reflexive action. My apologies, Severus. My mind was… occupied."
Severus slammed the Fwooper tears onto the desk. "Occupied?! Echo, you absolute, unmitigated imbecile! Are you entirely devoid of self-preservation? We haven't even tested the effects of that Gillyweed extract! You just ingested an unknown, potentially highly volatile, experimental potion! Are you stupid?"
Echo tilted his head, his pink and gold hair radiating oblivious calm. "Statistically speaking, no. My intelligence quotient remains significantly above the average for my age group. And as for 'stupid,' I believe that is a subjective and largely unquantifiable metric. However, I concede that ingesting an untested substance was… an oversight."
Severus stared at him, torn between furious exasperation and genuine, creeping dread. "An oversight?! An oversight, Echo, could lead to spontaneous combustion, irreversible transfiguration, or even… even death! Are you feeling anything? Anything at all? A slight tingle? Numbness? A sudden urge to communicate with house-elves in their native tongue?"
Echo considered this, his face blank. He paused, then slowly, deliberately, scratched his left arm. "Apart from a slight itch," he stated, his voice flat, "I feel entirely… normal. My cognitive functions appear unimpaired. My internal organs continue to operate with customary efficiency. I assure you, I have no unusual desires to converse with household domestics."
Severus's eyes narrowed. An itch. A slight itch. That wasn't good. Not good at all. He began to pace, his voice low and rapid, cataloging potential terrifying side effects. "An itch, you say? A localized dermal irritation? That could indicate rapid epidermal calcification, leading to complete desensitization of nerve endings. Or a subcutaneous eruption of bioluminescent spores! Or, in the most severe cases, a gradual, irreversible transformation into an aquatic plant form, starting with the… the dermal layer, leading to… an unpleasantly green pallor and a constant craving for pond algae!" He shot a frantic glance at Echo's unconcerned face. "Are you sure it's just an itch, Echo? No tingling in your extremities? No sudden desire to photosynthesize?"
Echo's blissful expression wavered, replaced by a faint, almost imperceptible furrow in his brow. The pink and gold in his hair flickered, a faint, agitated violet replacing some of the vibrant hues. "Actually," Echo stated, his voice flat, a hint of something uncharacteristic in his tone, "I am finding it… somewhat difficult to breathe. Severus, would it be possible to… open a window? The air in here seems kinda thin."
Before Severus could respond, Echo staggered, a choked gasp escaping him. His hand flew to his throat, clawing at the collar of his robes. His eyes, wide and panicked, met Severus's. The colors in his hair exploded into a chaotic, desperate medley of dark blues, murky greens, and a terrifying, vivid crimson, pulsating with raw fear. His knees buckled, and he sank to the floor, gasping, his breath coming in ragged, desperate gulps.
"Echo!" Severus hissed, dropping to his knees beside him, all pretense of disdain vanished, replaced by stark alarm. With a swift, practiced movement, he ripped open the front of Echo's robes.
A choked cry of horror escaped Severus's lips. Along Echo's neck, just below his jawline, were three raw, red slits. As Severus watched, they began to widen, revealing delicate, feathery structures within – unmistakable, fully formed gills, already flexing and contracting in a desperate attempt to draw oxygen from the air.
"Merlin's beard!" Severus gasped, his wand already in his hand. "Aquasphere!"
With a flash of light, a shimmering, perfectly spherical bubble of clear water materialized around Echo's head, just as his desperate gasps turned into silent, suffocating chokes. Echo instinctively inhaled, and the water filled his lungs, but instead of drowning, he breathed a long, deep, shuddering intake of the liquid. The terrifying crimson in his hair began to recede, replaced by a profound, shimmering sapphire, tinged with a hint of relief.
"You… you can breathe," Severus muttered, staring at the sight, his mind racing. He couldn't sustain this indefinitely, nor could he simultaneously concoct a counter-potion. The Gillyweed extract was working far faster and more aggressively than he could have ever anticipated. "Echo," he said, his voice urgent, "we need to get you to the Black Lake. Now. It's the only place."
Echo, still breathing deeply within the watery sphere, merely nodded, his eyes wide and strangely calm. He didn't argue. He couldn't.
Severus hauled Echo to his feet, supporting him as they stumbled towards the classroom door. They burst into the corridor, Severus half-dragging, half-carrying the still-gasping second-year. They rounded a corner, making for the nearest exit to the grounds, when Echo's legs suddenly gave out.
"I… I can't feel my legs, Severus," Echo stated, his voice muffled by the water-sphere, but laced with a new, alarming flatness.
Severus looked down, his heart lurching. Echo's legs, visible beneath his robes, were no longer human. The skin was stretching, shimmering, and the bones were subtly reshaping. His feet were elongating, fusing, and from the edges of his robes, a faint, iridescent glimmer was beginning to emerge – the first, horrifying signs of growing scales. His legs were starting to take on the unmistakable, sleek, fish-like appearance of a tail. "Damn it, Echo\!" Severus snarled, scooping the rapidly transforming boy into his arms. Echo, now a dead weight, gasped silently within his water-sphere, his lower body elongating and twisting into a grotesque parody of a tail. Severus, with an uncharacteristic burst of adrenaline, broke into a sprint.
"Out of the way! Move, you dunderheads!" he bellowed, his voice raw, startling knots of students in the corridors. Cloaks swirled, books dropped, and startled cries followed in their wake as he surged past, his sole focus the shimmer of distant sunlight on the Black Lake.
He burst through a deserted corridor, the heavy oak door leading to the lakeside grounds just ahead. With a powerful kick, he sent it flying open, stumbling out onto the damp grass. The air was cold, sharp, and biting. The Black Lake stretched before them, dark and inviting.
"Hold on, Echo!" Severus gritted out, his arms straining. Echo's tail, now almost fully formed, slapped wetly against his side, scales already glinting under the pale sky. He ran towards the nearest point where the ground sloped sharply down to the water, a low cliff edge overlooking the murky depths.
He reached the edge, panting, his lungs burning. Below, the water looked impossibly far. Echo's entire lower half was now a sleek, iridescent tail, flexing weakly. His human features were rapidly receding, his nose flattening, his eyes widening unnaturally.
With a desperate cry, Severus heaved. "For Merlin's sake, Echo, swim!"
He threw the boy, gills and newly formed tail and all, out over the precipice. Echo, still encased in his Aquasphere, plunged through the air, a grotesque human-fish hybrid. He hit the water with a surprisingly soft splash, the bubble of water around his head dissolving on impact.
Severus stood at the edge, watching, his chest heaving. The surface of the lake rippled once, then settled into an eerie calm. He waited, dread clawing at his throat, for a full minute. Nothing. Had he drowned? Had the transformation been too much?
Then, a flash of sapphire and emerald. A shimmer of iridescent scales broke the surface of the water, far out in the middle of the lake. A sleek, powerful tail, undeniably belonging to a mermaid, flicked once, then twice, before disappearing into the depths.
Severus let out a long, shuddering breath, sagging against the cold stone of the cliff. "Bloody idiot," he muttered, his voice hoarse, but a faint, almost imperceptible tremor of relief ran through him. "The things I do for that boy." He ran a hand over his greasy hair, already concocting a plausible explanation for his chaotic sprint through the castle and the missing second year. It was going to be a long day.
Lily Evans, who had been chatting with friends by the lakeside path, dropped her books with a thud. Her eyes, wide with disbelief and horror, had witnessed the entire, bizarre spectacle. Severus, standing at the cliff edge, his hair plastered to his forehead, was just about to turn away when a furious shriek pierced the air.
"SEVERUS SNAPE!" Lily roared, her voice vibrating with righteous indignation as she sprinted towards him, her red hair a fiery blur. "WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?! YOU JUST THREW ECHO INTO THE LAKE! HE CAN'T SWIM, YOU GREASY GIT! HE'S GOING TO DROWN!"
She reached him, shoving him roughly, her chest heaving. "Answer me! What was that?! What did you do to him?!"
Before Severus could formulate a response, another, equally authoritative voice cut through the tense air. "Mr. Snape!" Professor McGonagall, who had clearly followed their frantic sprint, arrived, her face a mask of appalled disbelief. "What is the meaning of this?! I saw you! You just threw a student into the Black Lake! Have you lost your mind?!"
Below the surface, in the cool, murky depths, Echo continued to transform. The shimmering scales spread rapidly, covering his entire lower body in a breathtaking display of sapphire and emerald. His torso elongated, sleek and muscular, and his hands and feet, though still recognizably human, developed subtle webbing between the fingers and toes. His face was no longer quite human, softened, and his eyes were growing larger, darker, and exquisitely adapted to the low light. His black hair, still marked by the persistent emerald streak, flowed freely around him, intertwining with strands of newly grown, moonlight-colored hair that was undeniably similar to Skate's. He watched, fascinated, as his lower half solidified into a powerful, graceful tail, undeniably masculine in its form, yet perfectly scaled and shaped like that of a merperson. He was a Merman.
He looked at himself, running a webbed hand over the smooth, scaled skin of his new tail. The transformation was complete. It felt…nice…right. A faint ripple of sound reached him from above—the muffled shouts, the urgent voices. He suddenly, chillingly, realized how this might appear to the uninitiated: a student thrown into the lake, a sudden, unknown creature emerging. Logic dictated that he should surface and explain the situation.
With a powerful flick of his new tail, Echo propelled himself upwards. He broke the surface with a quiet splash, his head emerging first, his new, large eyes blinking in the dim light. He opened his mouth, ready to explain, to calm the burgeoning panic.
But before he could utter a single word, a high-pitched shriek tore through the air. "MONSTER!" Lily screamed, her eyes widening to impossible saucers as she stared at his transformed face, the moonlight hair, the glittering scales. Without thinking, pure terror overriding all reason, she punched him straight in the nose, stunning him.
Simultaneously, Professor McGonagall, her own face pale with shock at the sight of the "creature" that had just surfaced, reacted instinctively. "Bombarda!" she roared, a blinding flash of light erupting from her wand.
Echo, still trying to explain, is hit with powerful magical impacts. He was thrown backward, a stunned gasp escaping him as he plunged back into the dark water, disappearing beneath the ripples.
Lily stared at the now-calm surface of the lake, her chest heaving, her wand still trembling in her hand. The monstrous image was seared into her mind. "Where… where is Echo?!" she demanded, turning furiously to Severus. "That… that thing! It must have… oh, Merlin, Echo!" She looked ready to dive in herself, convinced the creature had harmed him. "We have to save him! He's in trouble!"
Severus Snape, who had witnessed the entire exchange with a mixture of resigned horror and growing exasperation, pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a long, slow, suffering breath, then let it out in a weary sigh. "Lily," he stated, his voice flat, yet laced with an almost unbelievable weariness. "Professor. That 'thing'." He gestured vaguely at the now still lake. "That was Echo."
Lily froze, her face draining of all color. "W-what?" she stammered, her voice a thin, horrified whisper. "That was… Echo?" Her eyes darted to McGonagall, who stood equally stunned, her wand still slightly raised, a look of profound horror slowly dawning on her features.
"But… but the tail," Lily whimpered, her hands flying to her mouth. "The… the eyes…"
"We were making a potion with gillyweed, which was sunfinned, and Echo, stupidly tasted some without thinking. Thus turning that…thing. If I hadn't thrown him in the lake, he would've suffocated on dry land."
"Indeed, Miss Evans," McGonagall stated, her voice tight with self-reproach. "Mr. Snape is correct. Given the nature of the potion Mr. Echo so carelessly ingested, a merperson transformation was… a highly probable, if not entirely foreseen, side effect." She looked from Lily's horrified face to the still lake, her shoulders slumping. "We… we just assaulted a student, Lily. My word. I… I believe I need a very strong cup of tea. And possibly a calming draught."
Lily, however, was already in motion. "Echo!" she shrieked, tears springing to her eyes. "Oh, Echo, I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry! I didn't know it was you! I thought… I thought you were a monster! Please, Echo, are you alright? Say something!" She stumbled forward, peering anxiously into the dark water, ready to dive in despite her earlier fear.
A ripple disturbed the surface, and then, with a graceful flick of an iridescent sapphire and emerald tail, Echo's head popped up. His new, large, merperson eyes blinked, and his now black, but still multicolored, hair flowed around his face. His expression was, as ever, completely unreadable. Still, the array of colors in his hair—a vibrant mix of soft pinks, shimmering golds, and tranquil sapphires—indicated a state of serene calm, tinged with a faint, almost amused, glow.
"I am fine, Lily," Echo stated, his voice flat, yet carrying a surprising resonance across the water. He pushed a stray strand of moonlight-colored hair from his face. "And I forgive you both. It was an understandable, if somewhat overly aggressive, reaction to me in my…current state." He paused, then, his lips curving into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk, he added, "Although, Lily, your right hook is pretty good. Seven out of ten. Needs work on the precision, however. But a commendable effort for an amateur."
Lily stared, then burst into a watery, relieved giggle. "You… you rated my punch?" she exclaimed, half-laughing, half-crying.
Echo merely inclined his head, his multi-hued hair shimmering. "Accuracy in assessment is paramount, regardless of the circumstances. The cnetaurs taught me how to fight properly."
Professor McGonagall, meanwhile, stood utterly speechless, torn between profound relief, professional mortification, and a sudden, overwhelming urge to rub her temples. This boy. This utterly, impossibly infuriating, and undeniably fascinating boy.
"Now, you stay right here, Echo," Severus commanded, his voice sharp, pointing a stern finger at the water. "I need to brew an antidote immediately. This… this condition is certainly not permanent. Do not, under any circumstances, go off on one of your illogical escapades. Stay put. Last thing we need is for you actually to drown."
Echo, still floating serenely, blinked. "Go off like what, Severus?" he asked, his voice flat but tinged with a faint, almost amused curiosity.
Severus, already turning to stride back towards the castle, muttered, not thinking, "Like taking advantage of this highly inconvenient transformation to visit your new… girlfriend."
A beat of stunned silence.
Echo's multi-hued hair, which had been a tranquil sapphire and gold, abruptly flared into a vibrant, brilliant pink, tinged with a mischievous, almost triumphant, yellow. His lips, no longer bloodless, curved into a slow, undeniable smirk. He cast a quick, calculating glance at Lily and McGonagall. Lily's eyes widened, a dawning comprehension, then profound amusement, spreading across her face. McGonagall, who had just been recovering her composure, looked from Severus's retreating to Echo's suddenly gleeful expression, and then back to Lily, a horrified realization slowly blooming. Echo, with a graceful, almost imperceptible flick of his iridescent tail, began to glide silently, slowly, backward into the deeper water.
"Echo!" Lily shrieked, snapping out of her momentary stupor. "Don't you dare! You stay right here!"
He paused, a mere ripple on the surface, his pink and yellow hair pulsing with a silent, internal debate. Then, with a subtle shift of his body, he continued his slow, deliberate retreat.
"Mr. Echo!" McGonagall roared, her voice regaining its full, authoritative boom, startling a flock of nearby birds. "I said, stay put! If you so much as move another inch, you'll have detention for the rest of the year! Do you hear me?!"
Echo merely inclined his head, his smirk widening almost imperceptibly. With a sudden, powerful surge of his tail, he vanished beneath the dark surface of the Black Lake, leaving behind only widening ripples and the faint, triumphant echo of unspoken mischief.
Severus returned to the Potions classroom, his face a mask of furious determination. He paced before the still-bubbling cauldron, muttering to himself, his long fingers already retrieving various vials and ingredients.
"Oh, for the love of everything," McGonagall huffed as she rubbed her eyes.
Then, Lily, sharing in her exasperation, suddenly stopped as she asked, "Wait, when did Echo get a girlfriend? And who is she?"
Lily turned to Severus, a fresh wave of panic washing over her as a new realization dawned. "Wait! Sniffles! Where's Sniffles? He didn't—he didn't get thrown in the lake, too, did he?" Her voice was tight with renewed fear, her eyes frantically scanning the ground around them.
Just then, a faint, muffled squeak reached Lily's ears. She looked down, and there, nestled safely beside her foot, was a tiny, trembling ball of fluff – Sniffles, looking rather overwhelmed but thankfully intact.
A wave of profound relief washed over her. "Oh, Sniffles, you're alright!" she cried, scooping him up gently. She pressed the fluffy creature to her cheek for a moment, then, with a determined nod, carefully tucked him into the deep pocket of her robe. "You stay right there, little one. We'll get him back."
"A simple oversight," Severus snarled, mimicking Echo's flat tone. "An oversight that has now condemned him to… aquatic hedonism! And just when I was on the verge of perfecting the antidote for those troublesome wrackspurt infestations!" He slammed a jar of powdered Graphorn horn onto the desk. "This requires speed. Precision. And a complete lack of… romantic distraction."
He set about brewing, his movements sharp and efficient, but his mind raced. The Gillyweed extract. It had been amplified by something, but what? And why had it produced such a complete and apparently stable merperson transformation? He remembered Echo's hair. The colors. The sheer, unadulterated bliss that had emanated from him. He scoffed. Love. Sentiment. Utterly illogical. And entirely inconvenient. It simply must've been the fact that they hadn't finished brewing the actual potion, making for something entirely different. He will write this new position down later.
He added a shimmering, viscous liquid to the cauldron and stirred vigorously. The potion began to turn a sickly shade of violet. "This will be a strong one," he muttered. "It will reverse the effects. Immediately. And perhaps," he added, a faint, vindictive smirk touching his lips, "it will also serve as a temporary aversion to… merfolk. A gentle reminder of the perils of spontaneous ingestion."
He continued to work, his brow furrowed in concentration, occasionally glancing towards the window as if expecting a triumphant, scale-covered Echo to burst through, singing tunelessly. He would not be deterred. He would restore Echo to his entirely human, entirely illogical, entirely un-smooching self. It was his duty. And besides, he needed his assistant back. Someone had to crush the newt's eyes. And now he had to lasso that fish up from the lake.
Beneath the dark surface of the Black Lake, Echo felt a profound sense of liberation. The water, which had once represented an insurmountable barrier, was now his domain. His new merman tail, strong and agile, propelled him effortlessly through the depths. It was like flying, he realized, but better. Better than soaring on the back of a hippogriff or a dragon, better than the fleeting thrill of a well-aimed Wingardium Leviosa. This was inherent, a part of him, a seamless extension of his being. He found that his remaining clothes were cumbersome in the water, and since most of them were destroyed during his transformation, he decided to discard them. After all, he technically had nothing to be ashamed of or cover up in this form.
He spun and twisted, reveling in the sheer grace of his movements. The pressure, the cold, the suffocating need for air – all gone. He could breathe deeply and freely, the water feeling like cool, nourishing air in his new gills. His enhanced vision pierced the murky darkness, revealing a vibrant, alien world he had only glimpsed. Schools of luminous fish darted past, their scales shimmering like scattered jewels. Ancient, gnarled trees, submerged centuries ago, stood like silent sentinels, their branches draped with swaying, phosphorescent moss.
He saw merfolk dwellings, carved into the rocky lakebed, their entrances adorned with strange, glowing symbols. He noticed a giant squid, its massive tentacles drifting lazily in the distance, and felt no fear, only a detached, scientific curiosity. The sapphire and gold in his hair pulsed with unadulterated exhilaration, a sensation so potent it almost made him laugh—a sound he wasn't sure he could even make in this new form. He was fluid, powerful, perfectly adapted. He was home. And then, a familiar presence, a gentle current guiding him, reminded him of another reason for this extraordinary new reality. Skate.
He swam faster, driven by an eager, almost childlike impulse to find her and share this astonishing new experience. The thought of Skate's reaction, her ocean-deep eyes widening with delight at his transformation, filled him with a potent, unfamiliar warmth. He pictured her smile and the way her hair drifted around her like moonlight. He was a merman now, like her. This would bridge the gap and dissolve the illogical barriers between them.
Then, he stopped. His powerful tail, once a tool of liberation, now felt heavy, burdened by a sudden, chilling wave of uncertainty. The joyous pinks and golds in his hair dulled, replaced by a flickering, agitated violet, tinged with a sharp, unwelcome crimson.
Skate. She had seen him. She had accepted him. But she had accepted Echo. His true self. Not this… this thing. He looked down at his new, scaled tail, then raised a hand to his face. It was still human. His black hair, even with its riot of colors, was still his. He wasn't a true merperson, not like her. He was a mockery. A clumsy, terrestrial imitation. Lily and McGonagall's screams, their horrified reactions, echoed in his mind. He had been a monster to them. What if he were a monster to Skate, too?
The thought, illogical though it might be, lanced through him with surprising force. He had wanted to show her his true self, to be courageous and honest, as Hagrid had advised. But this? This was a deception, a temporary, magical veneer over his human form. She had liked him, the awkward, logical boy who couldn't swim but had braved the cold water for her. Not this… this strange, half-formed creature. His excitement drained away, leaving behind a cold, desolate ache. The violet in his hair deepened, almost black, pulsating with a profound, bitter regret. What if she thought he had done this to mock her? To invade her world, not to join it? The thought was unbearable. He spun around, his powerful tail churning the water, driven by a desperate need to escape this beautiful, alien environment and return to the familiar, if inconvenient, confines of his human form. He had made a grave miscalculation. This transformation was not a bridge; it was a chasm. He didn't want to see her, not like this.
He swam blindly, propelled by a raw, primal surge of panic, heedless of direction or the shimmering beauty around him. His new tail, which had felt so liberating moments before, now thrashed with desperate, almost frantic energy. He needed to be out. He needed to be human. He needed to explain. But to whom? Severus was brewing an antidote; McGonagall and Lily were still on land, undoubtedly horrified. The thought of surfacing, of facing their terror again, was almost as unbearable as the thought of facing Skate in this grotesque, half-formed state. The black in his hair pulsed with a frantic, agitated violet, tinged with a sharp, burning crimson of sheer, unadulterated fear.
A sudden, strong current swirled around him, pushing him off course. He struggled against it, disoriented, but it was too powerful. He was carried, helpless, through a shimmering kelp forest, past ancient, moss-covered rocks, until he was gently but firmly deposited in a secluded grotto bathed in a soft, ethereal bioluminescent glow.
And there she was.
Skate.
She hovered gracefully in the center of the grotto, her moonlight-colored hair fanning around her. Her ocean-deep eyes were wide with concern, and a soft, questioning trill escaped her lips. She had clearly sensed his distress, drawn to him by an unseen connection.
Echo froze, his newly transformed gills constricting with a sudden, paradoxical gasp, even though he was underwater. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the grotto. The black and violet in his hair exploded into a chaotic, terrified rainbow, reflecting the raw, untamed emotions churning within him. He was trapped. He couldn't escape. He was a monster.
Skate swam closer, her expression shifting from concern to a gentle, unwavering curiosity. She reached out a delicate, webbed hand, her fingers brushing softly against the iridescent scales of his new tail. The touch, usually so electric and comforting, now sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated shame through him.
He flinched, pulling his tail away, instinctively trying to hide himself amongst the glowing flora. He opened his mouth, a desperate, gargled noise escaping him. How could he explain? How could he, the perfectly logical, perfectly articulate Echo, convey this profound, humiliating, yet utterly illogical, truth to a creature who didn't entirely speak his language or speak it well?
He pointed to himself, then to his new tail, then back to his still-human face, making a frantic, circular motion with his webbed hands. His hair flickered wildly: crimson with mortification, violet with self-loathing, a brief, desperate flash of gold for the hope that she would understand. He then mimed drinking from a cup, then gagged, then made a vague gesture of something changing, transforming. He looked at her, his large, transformed eyes pleading for comprehension.
Skate watched him, her head tilted slightly, her eyes unreadable. A low, melodic hum escaped her lips, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the water, soothing him and calming the frantic riot in his hair. She slowly, deliberately, swam closer until she was directly in front of him, her beautiful face mere inches from his.
She reached out again, this time placing both of her delicate, webbed hands gently on either side of his face. Her ocean-deep eyes, warm and accepting, searched his. Then, she smiled. A soft, knowing, utterly radiant smile. She let out a soft, melodic trill, a single, crystal-clear note that resonated deep within his core, filled with an unmistakable understanding. She then lightly touched his new, moonlit hair, tracing the path of his emerald streak, then brushing her fingers over the shimmering scales of his tail.
And then, she did something that utterly stunned him. She began to mimic his frantic gestures, but with a grace and clarity that conveyed profound comprehension. She pointed to his tail, then to his human face, then made a swirling motion with her hand, a clear indication of change. She then mimed drinking and made a gesture of something going "wrong"—or perhaps "right." She pointed to him, then to herself, and then made a gesture indicating that they were similar and connected. She understood. She understood everything.
Echo stared at her, the chaotic storm in his hair slowly subsiding, replaced by a profound, shimmering sapphire, tinged with a delicate, breathtaking pink of pure, unadulterated relief. He felt a choked, silent laugh escape him, bubbling up from a place he hadn't known existed. He had miscalculated. He had been an idiot. She didn't see a monster. She saw him.
He took a deep, shuddering breath of the cool, clear water. "Skate," he whispered, his new, resonant voice still flat, but now imbued with a profound, raw vulnerability. "Yes. Precisely. A potion. It went… wrong. Or perhaps," he added, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touching his transformed lips, "it went… entirely right for now. I am… like this. For a while."
Skate's smile widened, her eyes dancing with amusement. She let out another series of melodic trills, a soft, encouraging song that flowed around him like a gentle embrace. She then took his hand, her fingers intertwining with his webbed ones, and with a playful flick of her iridescent tail, began to pull him deeper into the shimmering heart of the grotto, into her world. In this world, his new form was not a mistake, but a beautiful and unexpected reality.
The grotto's ethereal bioluminescence pulsed around them, casting soft, shifting shadows on their faces. Echo, still reeling from the profound relief of Skate's understanding, felt a new surge of curiosity, potent and undeniable. His sapphire and pink hair shimmered with eager anticipation. He was here, truly here, in a world he had only ever observed from a distance, a world now made accessible by this incredible, accidental transformation.
He squeezed Skate's hand gently, his large, transformed eyes sweeping over the shimmering walls and the subtle currents that hinted at further wonders. "Skate," he began, his voice flat but infused with an almost childlike wonder, "this place…It's amazing. I only knew about Black Lake from looking at it from above or from magic books. But now… now I can actually be in it."
He paused, then, a faint, almost imperceptible flush rising on his pale cheeks, he added, "Could you… Would you mind showing me around? I've always wanted to see what's under the water – the plants, the animals, how the ground is shaped… but I couldn't breathe or swim before." He gestured vaguely at his new tail. "Now, I can! I really want to see everything." His multi-hued hair pulsed with a vibrant, almost insistent, yellow of intellectual hunger.
Skate's radiant smile widened, her eyes sparkling with delight at his eagerness. She let out a series of soft, melodic trills, a joyful, affirmative response that echoed through the grotto. Taking his hand once more, she propelled them gently forward, leading him deeper into the shimmering heart of the Black Lake.
The tour was everything Echo had imagined. Skate, a graceful guide, led him through vast, swaying forests of bioluminescent kelp, where schools of tiny, glittering fish darted like living constellations. She pointed out ancient, gnarled submerged trees, their bark covered in soft, velvet moss, and showed him hidden crevices where shy, luminous crustaceans scuttled. Echo's new, enhanced vision absorbed every detail, his mind meticulously cataloging the complex ecosystem of the lake. His multi-hued hair, particularly the sapphire and yellow strands, pulsed with an insatiable hunger for knowledge and a profound sense of awe.
They paused at a colossal, rocky outcrop, riddled with dark, cavernous openings. Skate gestured towards one, a playful glint in her ocean-deep eyes. Echo, intrigued, peered into the darkness. A moment later, a colossal, bulbous eye, the size of a dinner plate, blinked slowly in the gloom. Then, a massive, muscular tentacle, thicker than Echo's waist, unfurled with languid grace, drifting past them. It was the Giant Squid.
Echo felt no fear, only a surge of pure, unadulterated fascination. He reached out a hesitant, webbed hand, and the tentacle, surprisingly soft, brushed gently against his fingers before slowly retracting back into the shadows. Skate let out a soft, trilling giggle, a clear sign of amusement at his reaction, and squeezed his hand. The connection was undeniable, a silent understanding passing between them, a shared moment of wonder in the presence of such a magnificent, ancient creature.
Skate then led him on, her movements fluid and purposeful, guiding him along deep-water currents and through shimmering underwater canyons. The light grew dimmer, but the bioluminescence of the flora and fauna intensified, painting their path in shifting hues of green and blue. Echo realized they were descending, moving towards the very bedrock of the lake.
Suddenly, a vast, majestic city unfolded before them. Carved entirely from iridescent black rock and adorned with pulsating, phosphorescent coral, it rose from the lakebed like a submerged mountain range. Merfolk, in all their varied forms, swam through its intricate streets, their scales shimmering, their melodic calls echoing through the watery expanse. Structures of breathtaking beauty—grand halls, delicate spires, and sprawling communal areas—were seamlessly integrated into the natural contours of the lakebed, humming with a quiet, vibrant energy.
Skate led him directly to the heart of the city, to a magnificent palace carved from obsidian. Its entrance was guarded by two imposing mermen, their tridents glinting in the ethereal light. As they approached, the guards bowed deeply to Skate, their expressions deferential. Echo felt a flicker of confusion, the emerald in his hair pulsing with detached observation. This was more than just a home; it was clearly a place of immense importance.
They entered a vast, echoing chamber, its walls adorned with murals depicting the history and myths of merfolk. At the far end, seated on a throne of shimmering pearl and black coral, was a mermaid of breathtaking beauty and regal bearing. Her scales were a deeper, richer sapphire than any Echo had seen, and her long, flowing hair, like Skate's, was the color of moonlight, but woven with intricate strands of glimmering gold. Her eyes held an ancient, knowing wisdom. She was undeniably the Queen. Skate swam forward, pulling Echo gently with her, and bowed deeply before the Queen. Echo, following her lead, bowed awkwardly, unsure of the correct merfolk protocol.
The Queen's gaze, regal and piercing, swept over Echo, assessing him with an intensity that made the pink and gold in his hair flicker with a faint, almost nervous, violet. She then spoke, her voice a series of deep, resonant clicks and trills that, while still unintelligible to Echo's conscious mind, somehow conveyed authority and a profound, measured curiosity.
Skate turned to Echo, her beautiful face serious, yet with a faint, almost imperceptible tremor of something akin to mischievous amusement. She reached out, gently touching the emerald streak in his hair. Then, she let out a series of melodic trills, seemingly translating the Queen's questions. Echo, focusing intently, realized she was asking about him, his presence, and his sudden transformation.
He took a deep breath of the cool water. "My name is Echo," he stated, his voice flat, but unwavering, infused with a newfound sense of self that surprised even him. "I was… human. But due to an accidental potion ingestion, I have… temporarily transformed. I am a merman. And I am with Skate. She's… she's someone I find very special to my heart." He gestured vaguely upwards. "And she brought me here."
Skate listened, her expression unreadable, then turned back to the Queen, translating Echo's words with a series of quick, precise trills. The Queen listened, her gaze never leaving Echo. When Skate finished, the Queen's eyes narrowed slightly, then, with a subtle shift in her posture, she spoke again, a single, sharp trill directed at Skate.
Echo noticed with a jolt that Skate's cheeks flushed a faint, almost imperceptible green beneath her pale skin. She turned back to him, her ocean-deep eyes now sparkling with a mixture of apprehension and an undeniable, almost triumphant, glimmer of amusement.
"My mother…" Skate began, her melodic voice resonating with an unfamiliar, nervous inflection. " My mother asks… how you came to be in my presence and… why you are here with me. She… she also states that she is the Queen of the Merfolk. And I am…" She paused, her eyes dancing, then, with a playful flick of her tail, she finished, "…her daughter. The Princess."
Echo froze. His multi-hued hair, which had been a serene sapphire and gold, erupted into a chaotic, dizzying kaleidoscope of every color imaginable—crimson with shock, violet with confusion, bright yellow with utter bewilderment, and a sudden, brilliant, overwhelming pink of… something akin to desperate, illogical elation, mixed with an equally potent, terrifying dread. He stared at Skate, then at the regal Queen, then back at Skate, his jaw, despite his transformed features, almost dropping.
Princess? His mind, usually so meticulous, so logical, reeled. He, Echo, the boy who had no social graces, no concept of normal human interaction, had just… smooched a mermaid. And not just any mermaid. The Princess of the Merfolk of the Black Lake. He looked back at the Queen, who was still watching him with that piercing, ancient gaze.
Had he just hit the jackpot? Or was he in deep, profound, inescapable trouble?
The colors in his hair swirled, settling into a desperate, agitated crimson tinged with a faint, almost sickly green of pure, unadulterated fear. He had no protocol for this, no logical contingency. He, Echo, the master of calculated risks and precise outcomes, had stumbled into a diplomatic incident of potentially catastrophic proportions. He had, in essence, accidentally romanced royalty.
Skate, sensing his profound distress, let out a soft, questioning trill, her hand gently squeezing his. The Queen, however, remained impassive, her ancient eyes still fixed on Echo, a silent challenge in their depths. Echo took a metaphorical breath. This was it—honesty, courage, and perhaps a touch of strategic deflection.
"Your Majesty," Echo began, his voice flat, but imbued with a new, almost desperate earnestness, "my presence here with your daughter, the Princess Skate, is entirely… serendipitous. I encountered her when she was in distress near the surface. Her tail was entangled in debris. I… I assisted her. I freed her." He gestured vaguely to his transformed gills and tail. "And as for my current form, it is, as I explained, a temporary, accidental result of an experimental potion. I did not… seek this transformation to gain access to your world. I merely wished to… to ensure her well-being. And then…" He paused, looking at Skate, his pink and gold hair pulsing with a brief, vulnerable flash of absolute, undeniable truth. "And then, she chose to show me the beauty of her home. And she chose to share… herself. And I find her… utterly captivating."
Skate's eyes widened, a soft blush spreading across her cheeks. The Queen's expression, however, remained unreadable for a long moment. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, a faint, almost amused glint entered her eyes. She let out a deep, resonant trill, a complex melody that flowed through the grotto.
Skate turned to Echo, her own eyes now sparkling with suppressed mirth. "My mother says… she says that you are surprisingly direct. And that… she finds your candor… refreshing. She also says that Skate… has always been drawn to the… unusual." Skate paused, her smile widening. "And she says that she has seen enough of your… 'true self' in your eyes to know that you are… honorable. For a land-dweller." She squeezed his hand. "And she thanks you for saving her. And for… being here with her."
Echo stared, his hair flickering from fear-tinged green to a surprised, profound sapphire, then a triumphant, brilliant gold. He hadn't just avoided a diplomatic incident; he had, somehow, achieved… acceptance. From a Queen. The Queen of Merfolk.
He managed a faint, almost imperceptible smirk, a genuine one this time, devoid of its usual bloodlessness. "I am… gratified, Your Majesty. And I assure you, my interest in your daughter is… entirely genuine. And highly logical, given her inherent qualities."
The Queen let out another trill, this one shorter, sharper. Skate translated, her voice now brimming with open amusement. "My mother says that she sees your 'logic.' And she also says that if you ever, ever cause her daughter distress, or if you ever disrespect her, your 'transformation' will be made permanent. And you will reside here. As a very small, very unhappy, very dead fish in the deepest, darkest, most giant-squid-infested trench of the Black Lake. Permanently. Do you… understand, Echo?"
Echo's triumphant gold hair vanished, replaced by a terrified, agitated crimson, tinged with a sharp, warning black. He swallowed, the cool water suddenly feeling like a suffocating weight. "Perfectly, Your Majesty," he stated, his voice flat, but now laced with a very clear, very distinct, and very genuine note of abject terror. "My understanding is… absolute. And my desire for permanence in my current state, particularly under those… conditions, is… negligible."
Skate giggled, a bright, melodic sound. For the first time, the Queen smiled fully, a breathtaking, ancient smile that softened her regal features.
Her smile lingered, then faded into a more serious, contemplative expression. She let out another series of trills, her gaze fixed on Echo. Skate turned to him, her own expression a mix of gentle persuasion and mild apprehension.
"My mother," Skate translated, her voice softer now. " She asks… if you would share a song with us—a song from your world, perhaps. She has heard tales of land-dweller music but has rarely experienced it herself, especially not… from one who has recently become connected to our waters. She is curious.
Echo froze, his terror-tinged crimson hair giving way to a new, agitated violet. He looked at Skate, then at the Queen, then back at his own hands. A song. He had practiced a hum for Skate, a simple, mournful melody that barely qualified as music. The thought of performing it now, before merfolk royalty, in this grand chamber, filled him with a rare, profound sense of inadequacy. And then, the memory of his last, disastrous attempt at musical expression surfaced.
"Your Majesty," Echo stated, his voice flat, a hint of genuine mortification in his tone. The violet in his hair deepened, almost black, with a sharp, humiliated crimson streak. "I… I can. I have… a rudimentary grasp of vocalizations. However, I must confess that my skill is… underdeveloped. My last attempt at… artistic expression… resulted in unforeseen biological consequences for a spectral entity."
He glanced at Skate, then back at the Queen, as if trying to gauge their reaction to this bizarre confession. "A ghost," he clarified, feeling compelled to provide full disclosure, "its ears. They… they bled. Even I was unaware that it was a feasible physiological response for a non-corporeal being. It was… intensely distressing for all parties involved. Including myself." The crimson in his hair flared with remembered embarrassment. "I am still… practicing control."
Skate's eyes widened slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible flicker of concern crossing her face, quickly replaced by a mischievous glint. She translated Echo's stammered explanation, and as she spoke, the Queen's ancient eyes, which had initially widened with a hint of surprise, now held a definite, undeniable sparkle of fascination. When Skate finished, the Queen let out a single, clear, resonant trill, accompanied by a regal sweep of her hand.
Skate turned back to Echo, her smile now utterly unsuppressed, a silent challenge in her ocean-deep eyes. "My mother says," she relayed, her voice brimming with delight, "that she is… intrigued. And she would still very much like to hear your song, Echo. Bleeding ears or not."
Echo took a deep, shuddering breath, the cool water filling his gills. His multicolored hair, a vibrant mix of anxious violet and determined gold, pulsed with the internal struggle. He closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself, and opened his mouth, a soft, mournful note beginning to form in his throat.
But before the sound could fully escape, an invisible, incredibly powerful force seized him. It wrapped around his new merman body with sudden, brutal efficiency, yanking him violently upwards. Echo gasped, a choked, watery sound. His eyes flew open, wide with shock and a sudden, primal terror. The serene bioluminescence of the grotto, Skate's concerned face, the Queen's regal gaze—all blurred into a frantic, upward rush. He thrashed, his powerful tail lashing out, instinctively trying to hold on to anything, to the shimmering coral, to Skate's outstretched hand. His webbed fingers clawed at the water, desperate to anchor himself, but the force was overwhelming, inexorable.
The vibrant colors in his hair exploded into a frantic, terrified crimson and black, pulsating with pure, unadulterated panic. He was being dragged, ripped from Skate's presence, from the safety of her world, from the very element that now sustained him. He could feel the growing pressure, the increasing thinness of the water around him as he was hauled upwards, faster and faster, towards the distant, blurred surface.
Skate shrieked, a high, piercing trill of alarm, and propelled herself upwards after him, her own tail lashing furiously, but the force was too fast, too strong. The Queen, majestic and furious, rose from her throne, her ancient eyes blazing with wrath, letting out a deep, powerful trill that vibrated through the entire city, a call to arms for her merfolk.
Echo was pulled inexorably through the water, the light above growing brighter, harsher. He could feel the cold, sharp air beginning to press in, a suffocating weight against his newly adapted gills. He was leaving the water, leaving his new home. Leaving Skate. His lungs, accustomed to the cool, liquid embrace of the lake, began to burn with a terrifying, desperate need for oxygen. He was still half-merman, not fully human, and the sudden shift between environments was a brutal shock. He could feel his tail beginning to stiffen, his gills clamping shut, a new, agonizing pain lancing through him. He reached out one last, desperate hand, as if trying to grasp the fading image of Skate's face, before he burst violently through the surface of the Black Lake.
He landed with a wet thud on the damp grass, gasping, his gills constricting painfully in the sudden, thin air. His tail, slick with lake water and already beginning to lose its iridescent shimmer, smacked against the ground, stiffening into an agonizing parody of human legs. He clawed at his throat, desperate for breath, the world blurring around him. Then, a sharp, familiar voice cut through the haze of pain and disorientation.
"Echo! You insufferable imbecile! What in Merlin's name did you think you were doing?"
Echo blinked, forcing his vision to clear. Looming over him, a scowl etched deep into his features, was Severus Snape, his wand still pointed accusingly. The realization hit Echo like a physical blow, a sudden, burning wave of indignation washing over his fear.
"Severus!" Echo choked out, his voice hoarse, his multicolored hair flaring with furious crimson. "What the hell is wrong with you?! I was making an impression! A good impression! On my potential future mother-in-law!"
Severus merely sniffed, his eyes narrowing as he took in Echo's sodden, bare torso. "Future mother-in-law? You're a second-year student, Echo, not a suitor for merfolk royalty. And speaking of which," he added, his gaze flicking disdainfully over Echo's still-transforming lower half, "you are in a state of extreme undress. This will not do. Here."
With a flick of his wand, Severus conjured a spare, black robe—his own, by the looks of it, judging by the faint scent of stale parchment and potions clinging to it. He shoved it at Echo. "Put this on. Minerva can transfigure you into something more appropriate once we've reversed this… condition."
Echo, still gasping, clutched the robe, too disoriented to argue further. As he clumsily tried to pull it over his head, Severus, with ruthless efficiency, uncorked a vial containing a shimmering, sickly violet liquid. Before Echo could protest or even register the potent aroma, Severus shoved the vial to his lips.
"Drink, you ungrateful wretch!" Severus commanded, tilting Echo's head back.
Echo swallowed, the potion burning a strange path down his throat, a bitter, metallic taste blooming on his tongue. Almost immediately, an intense, unpleasant warmth spread through him, followed by a sensation of intense compression and rapid, painful reshaping. He cried out, not from physical pain, but from the visceral, agonizing reversal of his brief, glorious liberation. The scales on his tail began to recede, his webbed fingers and toes shrinking, his gills closing with a sickening pop. His body twisted, bones shifting with a dull ache, and the beautiful, moonlit hair interwoven with his own black strands withered, replaced by the familiar emerald streak.
He gasped, a purely human sound, as his legs reformed, his feet pressing against the cold, solid earth. The suffocating pressure in his chest eased, replaced by the familiar, comforting ability to draw air into his lungs. He was human again. Completely. And utterly, inexplicably bereft. The vibrant kaleidoscope of colors in his hair had dulled, leaving only the familiar, detached emerald, tinged with a deep, frustrated violet.
Echo scrambled to his feet, pulling the oversized robe tighter around him. He swayed, feeling oddly top-heavy without the familiar weight of his tail. He looked from his now-human hands to Severus's impassive face.
"You have to hide," Echo stated, his voice flat, but imbued with a new, frantic urgency.
Severus raised a disdainful eyebrow. "Hide? From whom?"
"From Skate," Echo snapped, the emerald in his hair flaring with a desperate, agitated crimson. "And her mother. The Queen. You just dragged me out of her palace, Severus! In front of her! It does not bode well for you! Unless you want death by angry mer-royalty, you need to hide. Now. I'll try to explain something to them, but you have to be scarce."
Severus merely snorted, then, with a flash of his wand and a muttered incantation, vanished from sight. The faint shimmer of a Disillusionment Charm momentarily distorted the air where he had stood. The timing was impeccable.
From the depths of the Black Lake, a furious, echoing trill resonated, followed by a torrent of melodic, yet unmistakably angry, merfolk voices. The surface of the water churned, and then, with a dramatic splash, Skate burst forth, her sapphire and emerald tail lashing, her moonlight hair plastered to her face, her ocean-deep eyes blazing with fury. Behind her, several other merfolk, their faces grim, breached the surface, their tridents held at the ready.
Echo, still clad only in Severus's oversized black robe, which hung awkwardly on his now-human frame, stepped forward, raising his hands in a placating gesture. His emerald hair, tinged with a determined gold, pulsed with a calm, reassuring glow. "Skate!" he called out, his voice flat but clear, carrying across the water. "I am fine. Entirely fine. The… the transition was merely somewhat abrupt."
Skate, seeing him, gasped, her fury immediately dissolving into profound relief. She swam closer, her eyes scanning him, her delicate webbed hands reaching out to touch his face and his arms as if to confirm his solidity. Soft, concerned trills escaped her lips, a worried stream of questions.
Echo gently pushed her hands away, a faint, almost imperceptible blush rising on his cheeks. "I am unharmed, Skate. Merely… reverted. The individual I was working with on the potion, he… he came to retrieve me. Not, I concede, with any particular grace or politeness. He merely administered the reversal potion. And then… he expressed a need to address other, less urgent, matters. A prior engagement, one might say." He gestured vaguely towards the castle. "He ran off. He is no longer here."
Skate's gaze lingered on him, her concern slowly giving way to a poignant sadness as she took in his fully human form. A soft, mournful trill escaped her lips.
"I understand," Echo stated, his voice flat but softened by an unfamiliar empathy. It is… inconvenient. For both of us, perhaps." He paused, then, a flicker of nervous anticipation replacing the sadness in his multi-hued hair, he asked, "Skate, was my… first impression on your mother… satisfactory? Did I… conduct myself appropriately?"
Skate's sadness dissolved into a soft, radiant smile. She let out a melodic trill, then turned to Echo, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "My mother says that you were… surprisingly charming, for a land-dweller. And that your candor was… unusual, but appreciated. She found your… 'account of spectral ear-bleeding' particularly intriguing. She is… open to further interaction."
Echo felt a wave of triumph, the gold in his hair flaring. "Excellent," he stated. "Then, if you would be so kind, Skate, please inform your mother that when next we meet, I shall be prepared. I will sing a song. A more… refined song. I will also perform a magic demonstration. For her. And for your people. It will be… impressive. And entirely without adverse physiological effects on non-corporeal entities." His lips curved into a slow, confident smirk, the pink and gold in his hair pulsating with newfound determination and a hint of something undeniably mischievous. Skate giggled, a bright, melodic sound that echoed across the lake. She swam closer, her eyes shining with warmth. "I would like that very much, Echo. And I look forward to your song and your impressive magic."
Echo's confident smirk softened, replaced by a more subdued, yet still earnest, expression. The gold in his hair remained, tinged with a thoughtful sapphire. "But Skate, I gotta head back to school now. My classes need me, and Professor Cleen will probably take points if I'm late." He pointed vaguely towards the distant Hogwarts. "I'll come back. When I can. Maybe tomorrow. Or the day after. I'll figure it out."
Skate nodded, a hint of sadness in her ocean-deep eyes. She reached out, placing a delicate, webbed hand on his cheek. Her touch was cool against his skin yet sent a familiar electric current through him, causing the pink in his hair to flare momentarily. She leaned forward and, with soft, gentle pressure, pressed her lips to his.
It was a brief, tender kiss, a promise lingering on his lips. When she pulled back, her smile was soft and knowing. She let out a final, melodic trill, a sound of farewell, and then, with a graceful flick of her iridescent tail, she submerged. The other merfolk followed, their forms dissolving into the dark water, leaving only widening ripples and the faint, lingering scent of kelp in the air.
Echo stood by the shore, the oversized robe clinging to him, his human feet once again planted firmly on the damp grass. His multi-hued hair, particularly the pink and gold, pulsed with the lingering warmth of her kiss and the quiet ache of her departure. He watched the ripples fade, then, with a long, slow sigh, turned and began to walk back towards the imposing silhouette of Hogwarts Castle, his mind already figuring out the best way to get back to the Black Lake.