Echo arrived back at Hogwarts, his grey hair still heavy with exhaustion from the recent magical exertion, but steadily returning to its usual midnight black. The sprawling stone edifice loomed before him, its myriad windows glowing warmly in the night. He pushed through the massive oak doors, the familiar scent of old parchment and beeswax filling the air. His immediate objective was the Slytherin common room, to address the Severus Snape variable before any irreparable logical damage was done. He had barely taken ten steps down the main corridor when a sharp, authoritative voice cut through the quiet of the entrance hall.
"Mr. Echo! Just where do you think you're going at this ungodly hour?"
Echo stopped, sighing internally. He turned to see Professor Minerva McGonagall, her severe expression and tightly drawn bun more formidable than usual. Her emerald robes seemed to crackle with barely contained exasperation.
"Professor McGonagall," Echo stated, his voice flat, inclining his head slightly. "I was proceeding to my domicile, also known as the Slytherin common room, for the purpose of recalibrating my internal parameters and initiating a critical discussion with a fellow student."
McGonagall's lips thinned. "'Recalibrating your internal parameters,' Mr. Echo? Is that what the children are calling it these days? Because what I have just been informed, by no less than three highly distressed Gryffindor first-years, is that you 'leaped' from a window in Gryffindor Tower. And not only 'leaped,' but 'smashed through it like a rogue bludger on a rampage.' Is there a logical explanation for this entirely illogical, and frankly, destructive, behavior?" Her gaze was piercing, daring him to offer anything less than the absolute truth.
"Indeed, Professor," Echo replied, his voice unwavering. "There is a perfectly logical explanation. As you are aware, I possess a modified cartographic device, a 'Beast Map,' if you will, which provides real-time tracking of magical fauna within the castle grounds and its immediate vicinity. During my… recalibration period, I observed a significant, rapidly approaching anomaly. Specifically, a fully grown Blast-Ended Skrewt. It was, I regret to inform you, on a direct trajectory towards the main castle entrance."
He paused, allowing the information to sink in. "Given its inherent volatility and the absence of any other personnel with immediate, practical experience in managing such creatures—especially with Hagrid currently off-grounds on a supply run, as I had previously ascertained—my intervention was, logically speaking, the most efficient course of action to mitigate potential structural damage to the ancient architecture of Hogwarts. And, of course, to prevent undue harm to any unsuspecting students or staff. My exit from the Gryffindor Tower window, while visually impactful, was the most direct route to intercept the creature."
Echo inclined his head slightly, a subtle hint of apology in his flat tone. "I recognize that my method of egress was… unorthodox, and resulted in a minor, regrettable structural compromise. For that, I offer a logical apology. However, I maintain that the immediate, preventative measures outweighed the minimal property damage. Hogwarts does not, in my logical assessment, require an extension for new construction due to a rampaging Screwt, and my actions averted such a necessity."
Luckily for Echo, his hair was still returning to its natural color and was unable to shift back to its previous mode. Throughout the conversation, Echo maintained a steady voice level to avoid arousing suspicion from the professor, and with him being unable to express emotions on his face, it was quite easy to lie.
McGonagall listened, her expression unreadable for a long moment. Then, a single, thin eyebrow arched, and a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched her lips. "Mr. Echo," she said, her voice dry as old parchment. "You are an exceptionally logical individual. Indeed, your precision in recounting this… 'Blast-Ended Skrewt' incident is, shall we say, remarkably thorough."
Echo blinked, a flicker of something akin to surprise crossing his usually impassive face. His dark hair, which had just begun to settle into its usual black, wavered, a faint, questioning violet attempting to surface, but still unable to fully manifest.
"However," McGonagall continued, her gaze sharpening, "I have observed you, Mr. Echo. I have observed you closely, particularly over the last few months. Your linguistic patterns have, shall we say, undergone a significant… evolution. You now possess a far more casual register, don't you? A certain… colloquial fluency that was entirely absent in your initial, almost pedantic, presentations." She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a low, knowing tone. "You resort to this hyper-logical, excessively detailed, almost robotic delivery only when one of four conditions is met: you are nervous, you are genuinely scared, you are experiencing profound boredom, or you are attempting to manipulate someone into a specific course of action, or, in this case, a specific belief."
She paused, allowing her words to sink in. "And oddly enough, Mr. Black, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Pettigrew presented a rather similar, if far less eloquent, account of their own. 'Experimental fireworks,' 'Blast-Ended Skrewt,' and your 'fortuitous presence.' It is, I confess, a rather… synchronistic narrative, considering the rather significant injuries Mr. Potter sustained, and Mr. Snape's remarkably swift, if temporary, healing. And the fact that Mr. Lupin has yet to be accounted for this evening." Her eyes, sharp and knowing, bored into his. "Tell me, Mr. Echo, does this 'Blast-Ended Skrewt' incident, by any chance, involve a certain… furry problem? A specific werewolf problem, perhaps, residing on school grounds?"
Echo's jaw dropped. His eyes, usually so unreadable, widened in undisguised shock. The struggle in his hair intensified, a rapid, chaotic swirl of violet, sapphire, and desperate, burning gold as he fought to regain his composure. "How… how did you—" he stammered, his voice utterly devoid of its usual flat calm, betraying a rare, profound moment of unpreparedness.
McGonagall's expression remained stern, but a ghost of a weary sadness touched her features. "Mr. Echo," she said softly, "how do you imagine the Shrieking Shack came to be built? And the Whomping Willow planted?"
Echo stared, speechless, as the weight of her words settled upon him. The chaotic maelstrom in his hair stilled, replaced by a dull, almost painful, grey. The implications were immense. She knew. She had known all along. The Shrieking Shack, the Whomping Willow—they weren't just random, creepy features of the school grounds. They were deliberate installations. A containment. A secret, maintained for years.
"You… knew about Remus?" Echo finally managed, his voice barely a whisper, devoid of its usual flatness and tinged with a profound, almost childlike disbelief. "All this time? And you… Didn't do anything? You just… let him?"
McGonagall sighed, a long, weary sound that spoke of decades of heavy secrets. Her stern gaze softened, a deep sadness etched around her eyes. "Mr. Echo, there are many things in this world, and indeed, within these very walls, that are far more complex than they appear. Professor Dumbledore has always held the conviction that Remus Lupin, despite his… affliction, deserved a chance at a normal life, a proper education. The arrangements for his transformations were made with the utmost secrecy and care, long before you arrived at Hogwarts."
She paused, her gaze sweeping over Echo, a hint of something akin to admiration in her eyes. "And you, Mr. Echo, have proven to be an… unexpected variable in that carefully constructed arrangement. Your actions tonight, though reckless in the extreme, were born of a strange, illogical sense of loyalty. And a logical, if chaotic, desire to mitigate catastrophic outcomes. You saved Mr. Potter. You saved Mr. Snape. And you ensured that Mr. Lupin, though in his transformed state, was contained without further incident."
Echo blinked, the grey in his hair pulsing with a new, complicated emotion. "So… you are not going to report us? Not going to… punish us?"
McGonagall gave a faint, almost imperceptible shake of her head. "Not tonight, Mr. Echo. Not tonight. The immediate crisis has been averted. And while I may have a few choice words for Mr. Potter and Mr. Black regarding their utter idiocy in utilizing their Animagus forms in such a perilous manner, and for all of you regarding the general disregard for the safety of yourselves and others… for now, let us simply say that a… temporary suspension of judgment is in order."
She then looked directly at Echo, her eyes piercing. "However, Mr. Echo, your magical affinity, as you term it, is a matter of considerable power. And considerable risk. The applications I witnessed tonight were… profound. And while I understand your motivations, such displays of raw, untamed magic, particularly the use of… unconventional curses, cannot become a habit."
Echo inclined his head, his voice flat. "Understood, Professor. The application of the Cruciatus Curse was… a situational necessity. And the magical drain was, I confess, quite debilitating. I do not anticipate a repeat of such a strenuous incident. In fact, I didn't want to do it, but I had to."
McGonagall gave him a long, appraising look, as if trying to decipher the true meaning behind his impassive words. "See that it does not," she said, her voice firm, but with a subtle undercurrent of something Echo couldn't quite define. "Now, Mr. Echo, I believe you require rest. And I believe I have a great many questions for Snape. Potter, Black, and Pettigrew, onceMadam Pomfrey has thoroughly examined them." She paused, a faint, almost mischievous glint in her eye. "And perhaps a word or two with Mr. Snape about his rather impulsive pursuit of his… 'acquaintances' into the Forbidden Forest."
Echo merely nodded, his grey hair now a dull, exhausted slate. He turned to leave, but McGonagall's voice stopped him once more. "Mr. Echo," she said, her voice softer now. "You truly are… a most peculiar student. And perhaps, against all logical probability, precisely what this school needs."
Echo offered no response, merely a subtle dip of his head. He resumed his walk towards the Slytherin common room, the silence of the night wrapping around him. He had saved James Potter. He had protected Remus Lupin. And he had, against all his logical predictions, gained a new, perplexing layer of understanding regarding the illogical complexities of human compassion. And perhaps, a tiny, almost imperceptible sliver of respect from his Head of House. The world, indeed, was far more complicated. And far less logical. Which, to his perpetual exasperation, was beginning to seem rather… interesting.
Echo arrived at the Slytherin common room, the familiar green glow from the lake outside a comforting, if monotonous, sight. He pushed open the heavy, concealed door to his shared dormitory, the soft creak echoing in the quiet room. The air was cool, smelling faintly of old books and something metallic – probably one of Snape's potion experiments.
He gently set Sniffles down on the floor. The Niffler, still a bit dazed from the night's chaos, let out a tiny, sleepy chirp and waddled with surprising speed towards his nest under Echo's bed, disappearing beneath the hangings with a soft rustle.
Echo glanced at the other beds. Crabbe and Goyle were already lost to the world, snoring softly. On his own bed, sprawled across the covers in his rumpled robes, was Severus Snape. A small, empty vial, clearly a sleeping tonic, lay discarded on the bedside table. Snape's face, usually contorted in a sneer or a scowl, was unnaturally peaceful in sleep, all harsh lines smoothed away. Echo felt a dull throb behind his eyes. He and Severus would need to talk in the morning. A very long, very complicated talk. But not now. Now, Snape needed rest.
Echo moved towards his own bed, pulling back the hangings. He sat down, but the thought of sleep was an immediate, illogical contradiction. His mind, usually so precise and controlled, was a maelstrom of discordant images. Remus, running wild, eyes blazing with feral hunger. Remus, the quiet, scholarly boy, was rapped within the beast. The sickening crack of James's bones. And then… the Cruciatus. The sheer, overwhelming wave of dark intent that had flowed through him, the agonizing shriek, and the brief, terrifying moment when Remus's human eyes had returned, wide with pain and recognition.
The memory was a cold, sharp blade in his mind, preventing any semblance of peace. He had caused that pain—to Remus, to an innocent. His grey hair pulsed, not with exhaustion but with a deep, unsettling agitation. He couldn't sleep. He wouldn't—not until the images faded, not until the raw edge of unfamiliar guilt dulled. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, pushing himself up. With a quiet, determined stride, he exited the dormitory, leaving the sleeping boys behind. He re-entered the common room, the dim green light offering little comfort. He stood in the center of the room, closed his eyes, and plunged deep into the well of his beast magic.
"Moonfang, Shadow, Whisper, now!" Echo commanded, his voice a low, resonant hum in his mind, projecting his desire and thought with absolute precision.
The air shimmered and rippled, and with three silent apparating shifts, the white werewolves materialized in the common room, their pristine fur gleaming faintly in the green light. They stood, powerful and watchful, their intelligent eyes fixed on Echo, waiting for his next command.
"Look, sorry about calling you guys so much tonight," Echo said, a slight, almost imperceptible shift in his flat tone hinting at something resembling genuine regret. "You've been a huge help, seriously. Super efficient, exactly what I needed. I didn't mean to keep bothering you, but... yeah, I need one more thing from you tonight. Big deal, logically speaking. About that guy, the one we just dealt with."
Moonfang, the biggest of the three, tilted her head, her intelligent eyes fixed on Echo. A low, questioning rumble came from her chest, a silent 'what now?'
"Remus Lupin," Echo clarified, his voice dropping a bit, becoming more direct. "He's... well, he's a wolf right now, out in the Forbidden Forest. Your job? Follow him. Keep an eye on him, but don't get involved. Don't mess with him unless he's actually trying to trash the castle or hurt someone. Just... watch. And then, when the sun comes up, and he changes back, you come straight back here. You'll bring me to him, fast. I need to check him out, make sure he's okay, and get him sorted. Gotta be super quiet about it, too."
The three white werewolves nodded, silently, disciplinedly agreeing to his command. Without another sound, they vanished back into the shadows of the common room, their forms dissolving as they apparated silently. Their powerful forms now streaked through the night towards the Forbidden Forest, a silent, watchful escort for the troubled Remus Lupin.
Echo waited, pacing the common room, the silence punctuated only by the occasional distant creak of the old castle. His grey hair, slowly shedding its exhausted hue, began to pulse with a renewed, determined sapphire. He needed to act swiftly. The dawn would bring Remus back, weak and vulnerable, and Echo needed to be ready. He consulted his internal clock, a precise, innate sense of time. There were approximately seven hours until sunrise. Enough time. Just barely.
He slipped out of the common room, moving like a phantom through the darkened corridors. The moon, though now receding, still cast long, eerie shadows. Every step was calculated, and every turn was a logical trajectory. He reached the seventh-floor corridor, the familiar stretch of wall where the Room of Requirement manifested. He paced three times; his mind fixed on his need: I need a place to brew potions, a place with every ingredient, every piece of equipment, and absolute privacy.
The ornate wooden door shimmered into existence, its surface plain and unadorned. Echo pushed it open, stepping into a vast, well-lit laboratory. Cauldrons of every size gleamed on polished workstations, shelves lined with countless vials and jars filled with exotic, glittering ingredients. A roaring fire crackled in a large hearth, casting dancing shadows. The air hummed with latent magic, a perfect environment for complex potion-making.
Echo wasted no time. He found the section for advanced potions, his eyes scanning for the complex instructions for Wolfsbane Potion. It was a notoriously difficult concoction, requiring meticulous precision, constant stirring, and ingredients added at exact, often agonizingly slow, intervals. And he wouldn't be making just one. He needed twelve. A year's supply.
He began to work, his movements swift and economical, his sapphire hair flaring with analytical focus. His hands, usually so steady, trembled slightly as he measured out the first, delicate drops of aconite. The procedure was indeed unforgiving. Each addition had to be perfect, and each stirring motion had to be precisely calibrated to prevent the volatile mixture from detonating. The hours blurred. The rhythmic bubbling of the cauldrons filled the silence, punctuated by the faint clink of glass and the soft hiss of evaporating steam. His hair shifted, from sapphire to emerald with concentration, then to a focused, almost burning gold as he pushed through the fatigue.
Midway through the night, a faint chime echoed through the Room. Echo glanced up, startled. A small, golden hourglass had materialized on his workstation, its sand rapidly trickling away. A timer. The Room, in its infinite wisdom, was reminding him of his fast-approaching deadline. He gritted his teeth, pouring every ounce of his remaining magical and mental energy into the task. His movements became even more precise, almost mechanical.
By the time the first faint blush of dawn touched the enchanted windows of the Room of Requirement, Echo was utterly spent. Twelve vials, each filled with a perfectly clear, shimmering silver liquid—Wolfsbane Potion—stood cooling on a charmed tray. His grey hair was dull with exhaustion, his body aching, but a cold, quiet satisfaction settled over him. He had done it. Against all logical probability, he had succeeded. He had brewed the impossible.
He placed the vials carefully into an expanded pouch within his robes, then turned, his gaze fixed on the now-fading door of the Room of Requirement. He would need to return to the common room now to wait for Moonfang's signal. The werewolf was coming. And Echo was ready.
He then walked back to the center of the Room of Requirement, holding out his hand. "I require two large mugs of hot cocoa," Echo stated, his voice flat, his grey hair still dull with exhaustion. Two steaming mugs, rich with the scent of chocolate, materialized in his outstretched hand. He took a long, fortifying sip from one, then, with a flicker of sapphire hair, he placed both mugs on a nearby table. He raised his wand, pointing it at the first mug. "Transfiguro Maximus!" he commanded, his voice a low hum.
The mug shimmered, distorting, then rapidly shrank, transforming into a perfectly smooth, obsidian-black button. He repeated the spell on the second mug, and it, too, became an identical black button. Echo blinked, staring at the small, mundane objects in his hand. His grey hair pulsed, a faint, almost imperceptible violet attempting to surface. His spellcasting had been precise, efficient, almost… casual. The immense magical drain from earlier, the complex potion brewing, and now this seemingly effortless transfiguration.
A strange, almost hopeful thought flickered through his mind. Minerva. He almost wished McGonagall had been there to witness it. His hair pulsed with a hint of exasperated amusement. Maybe, just maybe, with this newfound refinement in his raw magical output, he could finally experiment with transfiguring aspects of one creature onto another. The implications were… logically intriguing.
He pocketed the buttons, a small, cold satisfaction settling in his chest. He spun on his heel, exiting the Room of Requirement, the hidden door dissolving behind him. As he stepped into the silent corridor, a distant, mournful howl—Moonfang's unmistakable call—echoed through the predawn quiet of the castle. Remus. It was time.
But first.
Echo moved swiftly, his grey hair a blur in the dim light, making his way back to the Slytherin common room, and then to his shared dormitory. Snape was still asleep, his face peaceful. Echo pulled a fresh piece of parchment and a quill from his trunk and began to write, his hand moving with swift, precise strokes.
Severus,
I understand your desire to expose Remus and ruin the Marauders after tonight. However, I urge you not to. While I empathize with your pain, I offer a different path to justice.
You now possess a powerful weapon: the knowledge that Peter, James, and Sirius are unregistered Animagi. Use this secret to level the playing field and ensure fair consequences.
But I implore you not to speak of Remus. He does not deserve to be implicated in the same way as the others.
Their fate is now in your hands. Wield this information wisely, and keep this secret.
Echo
He finished the note, then placed it carefully on Snape's bedside table, weighted down by a heavy tome. He glanced at the sleeping boy one last time, a complicated mix of calculation and… something else, something akin to grudging sympathy, in his hollow eyes. He then slipped silently from the dormitory, leaving Snape and his message behind.
Echo exited the castle, the first faint hint of pale light touching the eastern horizon. The air was cold, crisp, and filled with the scent of damp earth. He looked towards the Forbidden Forest, the distant, fading howls his guide.
He lifted his hand and summoned Moonfang with a silent, focused command. The white werewolf materialized beside him, silent and majestic, her intelligent eyes fixed on Echo.
"To him, Moonfang," Echo commanded, his voice flat but urgent. "As fast as you can. It's almost dawn."
Moonfang let out a low, affirmative rumble, then dropped into a powerful, silent crouch. Echo swung himself onto her back, his grey hair blending with her pristine fur. With a powerful surge, Moonfang launched herself forward, a white blur streaking across the grounds and plunging into the deepening shadows of the Forbidden Forest, a desperate race against the rising sun.
They found him in a small, mossy hollow, curled into a tight ball amidst the roots of an ancient oak. Remus Lupin, no longer the terrifying beast of the night, lay naked and vulnerable, his human form pale and shivering in the predawn chill. His usually gentle face was etched with exhaustion and remnants of terror, and his body was a roadmap of fresh, ugly wounds. Deep gashes marred his arms and legs, torn by branches and scraped by unseen rocks during his frenzied escape. A particularly nasty, jagged tear ripped across his chest, still seeping dark blood.
Echo dismounted Moonfang, his grey hair a stark contrast to her pristine fur. He knelt beside Remus, his gaze sweeping over the fresh injuries. The sight of them, so raw and painful, caused a flicker of something akin to grim satisfaction in his hollow eyes – the chaos of the night, the successful rescue, the subsequent containment of the werewolf, all confirmed in the physical aftermath.
"Moonfang," Echo stated, his voice flat but carrying a hint of command. "Guard the perimeter. Make sure nothing weird pops up while I'm playing medic."
Moonfang let out a low rumble of agreement, then melted silently into the surrounding undergrowth, her white fur a ghostly presence in the dim light.
Echo pulled out his wand, its tip glowing with a soft, pale green light. He began to work, and his movements were precise and economical. The deep gash on Remus's chest knit together. First, the raw edges of the drawing closed as if stitched by an invisible hand. The scrapes on his arms and legs faded, the skin smoothing to an unblemished pale. Bruises, purple and angry, lightened and vanished. Echo worked swiftly, his grey hair pulsing with quiet, focused magic, until Remus's body was whole once more, albeit still shivering violently from the cold.
When the last wound had vanished, Echo retracted his wand. He then reached out, gently poking Remus's ribs with the tip of his wand. Remus groaned, stirring, then slowly, agonizingly, his eyelids fluttered open. His eyes, hazy with exhaustion and confusion, blinked against the faint light.
"Lupin," Echo stated, his voice flat. "Wakey wakey. Got stuff to do."
Remus stared, his eyes widening as he registered his surroundings, the cold, his nakedness, and then, the impassive figure of Echo hovering over him. A flush of mortification spread across his pale face. He scrambled to cover himself, albeit futilely.
Echo sighed, a long, weary sound. "Yeah, you're a bit… exposed. Can't exactly go shopping for clothes your size in the middle of the night without drawing unwanted attention. So, this is what you get." He pulled a folded bundle from his robes and tossed it at Remus. It was Echo's own oversized, dark robes, which smelled faintly of parchment and a strange, clean magic. "These will have to do. At least they're clean."
Remus fumbled with the robes, pulling them on. They were far too large, swamping his slender frame, but he gratefully pulled them tight around him, shivering less violently now. Echo then reached into his pocket and pulled out the two obsidian-black buttons. He held them out, then with a sharp, precise flick of his wrist and a silent command, the buttons shimmered, distorted, and then transformed back into two steaming mugs of hot cocoa, still miraculously warm.
"Here," Echo said, pushing one of the mugs into Remus's trembling hands. "Drink this. It'll help you perk up."
Remus clutched the warm mug, staring at the rich, dark liquid. "Hot cocoa?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. "How… how will this help?"
Echo took a long, fortifying sip from his own mug, the rich scent of chocolate filling the cold air. His grey hair flickered with a faint, almost imperceptible sapphire. "Chocolate," he stated, his voice flat, his eyes fixed on some unseen point in the distance. "Good for the body, good for the head. Especially after a run-in with Dementors. Or, in your case, turning into a giant furry beast and then getting all banged up." He paused, then added, his voice dropping slightly, a rare, almost vulnerable admission. "I've got… a lot of experience with its healing power. After the Dementors' Kiss, when I was basically just a soul floating around, I kinda got hooked. Anything with chocolate, really. It just… sorts me out." He took another long sip, his gaze unwavering. "You'll see. It works."
Remus took a hesitant sip, then another. A faint warmth spread through him, chasing away the chill that had seeped into his bones. He took a larger gulp, the sweetness and richness a surprising comfort. He sighed, a soft, almost contented sound. "You're right, Echo," he admitted, his voice a little stronger. "It… it actually does help. A lot. Thank you." He took another long drink, finishing half the mug in a single swallow.
He looked down at the voluminous robes he was wearing, then glanced at Echo, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "Echo," he began, a touch of embarrassment in his tone, "these robes are… very generous. But do you think… could you perhaps transfigure them into something a bit more… form-fitting? And perhaps warmer? It's quite chilly out here."
Echo paused in mid-sip, his grey hair flickering with a brief, analytical sapphire. He considered Remus's request, then nodded slowly. "Makes sense, Lupin. You're looking a bit… underdressed. A better fit would probably be a good idea. I've actually gotten a bit better at transfiguration lately. I'll give it a shot. No promises, though. Clothes are tricky when you're trying to change everything about them at once."
He set his mug down, then raised his wand, pointing it at Remus's oversized robes. His grey hair pulsed with a focused, almost impatient gold. "Transfiguro Vestimenta!" he commanded, his voice a low, precise hum.
The robes shimmered, then began to contort. Instead of shrinking and conforming, the dark fabric rippled, turning from brown to green and expanding. Within moments, the robes were gone, replaced by a tangled, rustling pile of… leaves. Large, damp, autumn leaves, still slightly clinging to Remus's body. Remus stared down at his leafy predicament, his eyes wide with disbelief. He looked up at Echo, who stood equally still, his grey hair now a faint, embarrassed violet, his eyes wide with rare, undisguised surprise. The silence stretched, broken only by the rustling of leaves as Remus inadvertently shifted.
"Oh," Remus finally managed, his voice a soft, bewildered whisper. "Leaves."
Echo blinked. "Yup. Leaves. Well, that's not what I was going for, is it? Sorry, Lupin. Guess I'm still not perfect. This is… not great."
Without another word, Echo unfastened his own outer robe, a plain, dark garment that, while not as voluminous as the one he had given Remus, was still a decent size. He handed it to Remus, his face completely impassive, though his violet hair still pulsed with a frustrated glow. "Here. Wear this. We are definitely not trying that again. The chances of getting it right are clearly pretty low."
Remus, still wrapped in Echo's second robe, eyed the surrounding darkness nervously. "Echo," he whispered, his gaze darting towards the rustling in the trees where Moonfang had disappeared. "Are… are those the same white wolves from the Shrieking Shack? The ones you summoned?"
Echo nodded, taking another slow sip of his cocoa. "Yeah, Lupin. That's Moonfang out there keeping watch. And the others, Shadow and Whisper, are probably around too. I sent 'em to follow you after you bolted from the Shack. Just in case. To make sure you didn't, you know, do more damage to yourself or the castle."
Remus's eyes widened, a fresh wave of mortification washing over him. "You… you sent them to follow me?"
"Well, yeah," Echo replied, his voice flat. "It made sense. They help me keep tabs on you and step in if I need to. But look, if being close to them is freaking you out, just tell them to scram. They listen to me, but they've got their own thing going on, too. They'll do what you say, as long as it doesn't mess with something more important I told 'em to do."
Remus stared at him for a moment, then, surprisingly, a faint, weary smile touched his lips. "No," he said, shaking his head. "No, it's… It's fine. It's actually… kind of comforting, knowing they're out there. But," he added, shivering slightly despite the robes, "are they… warm? It's really cold out here."
Echo paused, his gaze sweeping over the forest. He set his mug down. "Warmth," he stated, his grey hair flickering with a brief, analytical sapphire. "Gotta have it to, you know, function. Moonfang, Shadow, Whisper!" he projected, his voice a low hum in his mind. "Come over here and warm him up."
Almost instantly, the undergrowth rustled, and the three white werewolves materialized from the shadows, moving with silent, fluid grace. They approached Remus, their intelligent eyes fixed on him. Then, to Remus's astonishment, they curled themselves around him, one large, furry body pressing against his back, another against his side, and the third resting its head gently on his lap. Their pristine white fur, thick and dense, radiated a comforting warmth that immediately began to chase away the chill. Remus, wide-eyed, tentatively reached out a hand and stroked Moonfang's soft fur. She let out a low, contented rumble.
"See?" Echo stated, his voice flat, picking up his cocoa again. "Toasty. Now, Lupin, we need to talk about what happened. I need to know everything you can remember, as much as your werewolf brain lets you."
Remus nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. He took another gulp of cocoa, the warmth spreading through him. "Right," he said, his voice a little stronger. "I… I remember running. Feeling the change coming over me. And then… It's mostly flashes. Rage. Hunger. But… what happened to everyone else? Where are James, Sirius, and Peter? And Severus? I remember… a lot of snarling. And pain." He looked at Echo, his eyes wide with dawning horror. "Did I… did I hurt anyone?"
Echo took a long sip of his cocoa, his gaze unwavering. "Yeah, you pretty much roughed up a few people, Lupin. Your animal instincts were… strong. James, Sirius, and Peter were there. And Snape, who was also there, just happened to be in the wrong place."
Remus paled, his hand flying to his mouth. "Oh, Merlin. No. Did I… did I bite them? Did I infect James?" His voice was a choked whisper, raw with terror. "Please, Echo, tell me I didn't. I couldn't bear it if I'd done that to James."
Echo met his gaze, his grey hair shifting to a calm, steady sapphire. "You bit James Potter, Lupin," he stated, his voice flat, but with a new, subtle cadence that was oddly reassuring. "Got him pretty good on the shoulder, actually. But," he continued, cutting off Remus's horrified gasp, "the werewolf thing? I handled it. I pulled the curse out. He's not gonna be a werewolf. He's back at the castle, getting better. The cut, even though it was nasty, has healed. He's alive, and he's fine. You're welcome."
Remus stared, his mouth slightly agape, the hot cocoa forgotten in his hand. "You… you cured him? You removed the bite? How? No one… no one can do that!"
"Just my weird magic," Echo replied, his voice flat. "It was… a pain. And it took a lot of… focus. But yeah. He's not gonna turn. It was super important to keep him from becoming a werewolf."
Remus's eyes, filled with a fragile, desperate hope, fixed on Echo. "Then… then can you… Can you cure me?" he whispered, his voice trembling. "Can you… Take it out of me, too?"
Echo set his mug down, the sapphire in his hair dimming to a troubled grey. He met Remus's pleading gaze, his own eyes flat and unreadable. "Look, Lupin," he said, sounding a bit weary, "your situation and Potter's? Totally different. Night and day are different, like night and day. Honestly, the chances of me pulling off the same trick for you are basically zero. Not gonna happen."
He paused, picking his words carefully. "James got bitten just after the moon was full. We kept him out of direct moonlight when I did it, and the curse had only just started to settle in. It was a fluke, really, that I even managed it. A one-in-a-million shot. You, though? You've had this thing for years. This isn't some fresh scratch, some new bug. Your lycanthropy is… It's part of you now. It's woven into your whole being, your magic, everything. Trying to yank it out of you wouldn't just be 'removing a curse.'"
Echo's voice dropped, becoming a low, grim hum. His grey hair shifted to a deep, ominous black. "It'd be like ripping out a piece of your soul. It'd need magic I don't even know exists, some kind of soul magic. Seriously, I have no clue how to do that, and I'm not even sure if it's a real thing. The closest magic we've got to messing with souls is the Killing Curse, and that's not going to 'cure' anyone, obviously. It'll just… end you. Permanently. So, no, Remus. I can't. Not without destroying you in the process. And that's just not a road I'm willing to go down."
Remus deflated, the fragile hope in his eyes extinguishing as Echo's words sank in. He huddled deeper into the warmth of the white werewolves, the empty mug of cocoa forgotten in his hands. A profound, weary sadness settled over his features, far heavier than any physical pain could be. "So, that's it then," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Forever. Like this."
Echo, his black hair still ominously dark, watched him for a moment, then sighed. "Look, Lupin; it's not ideal. Logically speaking, it's pretty inefficient. But it's also… a known quantity. You've managed thus far. And speaking of managing, why the heck didn't you have a Wolfsbane Potion with you?" Echo's voice, though still flat, held a hint of exasperated inquiry. "If you'd taken it, even if you still transformed, you would have retained your mind. You wouldn't have been… quite so aggressive."
Remus looked up, a flicker of something almost defensive in his eyes. "I did, Echo!" he insisted, his voice raw. "I swear, I took it before moonrise! I made it myself. But it… It didn't work. Not at all."
Echo blinked, his black hair shifting to a sharp, analytical blue. "It didn't work? That is… super illogical. Wolfsbane Potion is a meticulously balanced magical construct. It doesn't just 'not work' unless a critical component is absent or altered. What ingredients did you use? Give me the list, precisely as you remember it."
Remus frowned, attempting to recall the precise, nauseating details. "Well, the main ones, obviously… Aconite, Dittany, powdered silver, a few drops of moon dew… and then the specific wolfsbane root, harvested under the full moon…" He trailed off; his brow furrowed in thought. "And… and dried mandrake leaves. Yes, definitely dried mandrake leaves, finely powdered."
Echo stared at him, his blue hair flaring with a sudden, dreadful realization. His eyes widened, and he slapped his own forehead with a sharp, resounding thwack that made Moonfang flinch. The sound echoed through the quiet hollow.
"Mandrake leaves, Lupin?!" Echo practically snarled, his voice a low, furious growl, his blue hair blazing with incredulous exasperation. "Mandrake leaves?! You utterly, catastrophically illogical individual! It's mistletoe berries! It's always been mistletoe berries! The mandrake leaves are for the Antidote to Uncommon Poisons! You swapped out a vital, calming ingredient for a highly reactive one! You didn't just mess up, Lupin, you essentially brewed a highly volatile, potentially aggressive, and utterly useless concoction for the purpose of controlling a werewolf! No wonder it didn't work! It's a miracle it didn't make you worse!"
Remus flinched, his face paling even further. "But… but it said so in the Advanced Potions textbook!" he stammered, pointing vaguely towards the castle. "Page 347, 'Preparation of Lycanthropic Suppressants.' It clearly lists dried mandrake leaves! I checked, Echo, I swear!"
Echo stared at him, his blue hair flickering with a furious, exasperated realization. "The Advanced Potions textbook," he repeated, his voice dangerously flat. "Lupin, you're using a first edition. There was a misprint. A huge, totally ridiculous misprint about the Wolfsbane Potion. It was fixed like forty years ago. But Hogwarts, being Hogwarts, never bothered to update the cover. The right ingredient is, and always has been, mistletoe berries." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "And on top of that, Professor Cleen, the Potions Master, should've totally told you about this during classes. His screw-up is a major fail on his part, and a huge oversight."
Echo then reached into his robe pocket, pulling out one of the shimmering silver vials of Wolfsbane Potion he had painstakingly brewed. He held it out to Remus. "Here," he stated, his voice flat, but with a new, quiet finality. "This is proper Wolfsbane. Enough for the rest of the year. One dose, nightly, for a week before the full moon, and on the night of the transformation itself. It'll keep your head on straight during the change. And when you come back next year, you let me know, and I'll brew up some more for you, easy."
Remus stared at the vial, then at Echo, his eyes wide with stunned incomprehension. He gently took the vial, his fingers brushing Echo's. "You… you brewed this for me?" he whispered, his voice thick with disbelief. "But… why? Why are you helping me so much, Echo? After everything tonight? You were so angry…"
Echo met his gaze, his sapphire hair softening, the blue deepening to a profound, quiet hue. "Lupin," he stated, his voice flat but with a subtle, unmistakable sincerity that was rarely present in his tone. "I meant what I said, even if you were being a bit of an idiot. I really do want to be your friend. Even with those three totally illogical, but apparently loyal, nitwits you hang out with." He paused, taking a slow, deep breath. "And honestly, after tonight, I get your situation way more than I thought I would. You've got a beast inside you, a wild, untamed thing that you have to watch and manage constantly. I've got a similar… 'monster' inside me, a dark, untamed side that, if I let it loose, could cause some serious, completely destructive trouble."
His eyes, usually so hollow, held a flicker of something akin to shared burden, a profound, quiet understanding. "We both, Lupin, have to go to extremes to control what's inside us. We both walk a really thin, really dangerous line. And while your thing turns you into a monster, and mine is… well, a dangerous urge for some seriously forbidden magic… the main idea is the same. The need to control it. The need to keep it in check. And sometimes, the need for a friend who actually gets what you're dealing with."
Remus stared, his eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and a faint, dawning horror. "Your… your monster? What do you mean, Echo? What kind of extremes? And what's this about forbidden magic?" His voice was a low, urgent whisper, laced with a new kind of fear. "I thought your magic was just… really powerful. And kind of weird. What are you talking about?"
Echo sighed, a long, weary sound that seemed to carry the weight of countless unspoken burdens. His sapphire hair flickered, then settled into a deep, intense indigo, almost black, reflecting the gravity of his words. He set his mug down, his gaze fixed on Remus, his hollow eyes holding a depth of ancient, unsettling knowledge.
"My magic, Lupin," Echo began, his voice flat but resonating with a quiet power that made the air around them hum, "is… a complicated entity. It's not just a force I wield, or a tool I command. It possesses a consciousness and a will. It's practically sentient, a dark affinity that hums perpetually beneath my awareness, a 'monster,' as I refer to it. It has its own preferences, its own demands."
He paused, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor running through his hand. "And like my wand, it's incredibly fussy. Terribly particular. For me to cast even a simple spell, something as basic as a Lumos, it requires… a grand gesture. A dramatic display of intent. If I try to cast it simply, efficiently, the way you or any other wizard would, it simply… doesn't work. The magic won't cooperate. It refuses to manifest."
Echo leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper. "And even when it does work, when I give it the 'show' it demands, the spell often doesn't produce the results I intend. It twists them, perverts them, to suit its own… dark aesthetic. For instance, my Lumos spell."
He raised his wand, pointing it vaguely towards the still-dark forest. There was no incantation, no flourish, yet his indigo hair flared with a sudden, intense burst of energy. A ripple, almost invisible, emanated from him, and then, a localized sphere of absolute, unnatural darkness erupted around him. It swallowed the faint predawn light, creating a void that seemed to absorb all illumination. Remus gasped, his eyes wide with shock and a hint of terror, yet he could still clearly see Echo within the oppressive gloom.
"See?" Echo stated, his voice flat, completely unmoved by the dramatic effect. "A Lumos. But instead of casting light, it casts a perfect, impenetrable darkness. It renders me essentially invisible to any observers outside this immediate sphere, yet allows me to see in the dark with perfect clarity, as if it were broad daylight. Incredibly useful for stealth, but incredibly inconvenient for tasks like lighting a pathway. It's an act of defiance, a magical temper tantrum from my own power. It simply refuses to be… conventional."
"We both, Lupin, have a beast inside us," Echo continued, his voice taking on a grim, almost philosophical tone, his indigo hair pulsing with an ancient understanding. "And both our beasts… they crave a particular sin. Yours, the werewolf, embodies Gluttony. It hungers. For flesh, for blood, for raw, untamed instinct. It devours, consumes, leaving nothing but satiation in its wake."
He turned his gaze fully on Remus, his hollow eyes burning with an unsettling intensity. "My beast, on the other hand, yearns for Lust."
Remus, still wide-eyed in the unnatural darkness, blinked. He processed Echo's words, then a faint, bewildered flush crept up his pale face. "Wait, Echo," he whispered, a nervous laugh escaping him. "So… so your beast wants you to, like, bang all the time? Is that what you're saying? You're just… constantly in the mood?"
SMACK!
Echo's hand, moving with impossible speed, connected with a sharp, resounding thud against Remus's forehead. The sound echoed through the sphere of darkness, and Remus yelped, rubbing the spot where Echo had struck him. Echo's indigo hair exploded into a frantic, furious crimson, a color Remus had never seen on him before. A deep, unnatural blush, so potent it was almost visible even in the absolute darkness, spread across Echo's usually impassive face. It was the first time Remus had ever seen him display such an unfiltered, emotional reaction.
"You utter idiot, Lupin!" Echo snarled, his voice a low, furious growl, laced with a mortified embarrassment that was entirely new to Remus. "That is not what I meant! Lust, in its truest, most dangerous form, is not merely about… physical acts! It is about a relentless, unquenchable longing! A desire so profound that it consumes everything in its path! My beast is a bottomless pit, Remus! It always wants more! More power, more knowledge, more control! It is never satisfied!"
Echo paced within the sphere of darkness, his crimson hair blazing, the blush still staining his cheeks. "I always knew it was there, this… void. This incessant demand for more. But it was always a theoretical concept, a logical inconvenience. Until the Dementors' Kiss." His voice dropped, becoming a low, grim hum. "When I was… just a soul, adrift in the void, I felt it. The true, terrifying depth of that emptiness. That unquenchable longing. That's when I truly understood. My beast is a void, Remus. A constant, unyielding hunger for… everything. And after experiencing true emptiness, I realized just how deep that void goes. And how much it truly desires."
Remus, still rubbing his forehead, blinked, his eyes adjusting to the unnatural darkness. He looked at Echo, pacing, his crimson hair a furious blaze in the void. And then, he saw it. It was not Echo's shadow, but something far more terrifying and far more real. Looming behind Echo, a monstrous silhouette writhed, a dark, shifting form outlined against the absolute blackness. It was vast, its limbs contorted into predatory angles, and two wicked, curving horns sprouted from its head, scraping against the invisible ceiling of the darkness. Its eyes, impossibly bright, blazed with an eerie, hungry luminescence, fixed not on the surrounding void, but on Remus. They were eyes that wanted. Always wanted more. And in that terrifying moment, those eyes turned on Remus, gazing at him with an unsettling intensity, as if he, too, were something to be consumed, something to be taken hold of.
Remus, still staring at the huge, dark shape, finally looked away from its bright eyes and back at Echo. A deep, tired thankfulness settled on his face, for a moment making him forget his fear. "Echo," he whispered, his voice thick with feeling, "thank you. For everything. For James, for Snape, for the potion, for… for understanding." He took a shaky breath. "And for keeping my secret. I… I'll keep yours too. About… all of this. About your… monster." He waved vaguely at the shifting darkness. "No one will hear it from me."
Echo's red hair softened, and the flush slowly left his face, making him pale again. However, the dark bubble around them stayed strong.
Remus moved, pulling deeper into the warmth of the white werewolves, still holding the forgotten mug. He looked at Echo, his eyes full of fragile hope. "Echo," he began, his voice barely a whisper, "can someone like me… have a normal life? A normal job? Maybe even… someone who could love them? Love them for all they are, even… even with the monster?"
Echo took a long, last sip of his hot chocolate, its warmth comforting him. He emptied the mug, then held it out. With a small flick of his wrist and a silent thought, the mug shimmered, changed shape, and then quickly shrank, turning into a perfectly smooth, black button. He put it in his pocket, his gaze blank and hard to read.
"Lupin," Echo said, his voice flat, his blue hair pulsing with a dry, almost mocking amusement. "You forget. My girlfriend is a mermaid. Lots of people dream about mermaids. If someone as… strange as I can get a mermaid to like me, then anything's possible. Even for a werewolf. Love doesn't make sense, but it happens even when you don't expect it."
Remus blinked, a faint, almost confused smile touching his lips. He let out a soft, wet chuckle. "A mermaid, huh?" he mumbled, shaking his head slightly. "Right. I… I guess that makes sense. Coming from you, anyway." He looked around the heavy, dark bubble, the quiet, comforting warmth of the white werewolves next to him. "Echo," he said softly, "can we… can we just stay here for a bit longer? In the quiet? Before… before everything else?"
Echo thought about this, his blue hair dimming a little. "Staying still for a bit helps your mind settle," he agreed, his voice flat. Okay, we can stop for a short time."
The silence returned, broken only by the soft rustling of the white werewolves' fur and Remus's gentle, steady breaths. Then, after a few long moments, Remus moved again.
"Echo?" he whispered, his voice soft, almost unsure.
"Yes, Lupin?" Echo replied, his voice flat.
"Could… could you do one more thing for me? As a friend?"
Echo paused. His blue hair flickered briefly with a clear blue. "What is it?" he asked, his voice still flat but with a faint, almost unnoticeable hint of question.
Remus looked at him, his eyes begging. "Could you… Could you just hold me?"
Echo stared at him, not blinking. His clear blue hair wavered, then turned a deep, troubled gray. It didn't make sense. Touching, especially with feelings involved, was usually not helpful. But a part of him… understood. He sighed, a long, tired sound, then slowly and carefully took a step towards Remus. He knelt, then reached out, pulling the shivering boy into an awkward hug.
Remus fell against him, burying his face in Echo's shoulder, and the cries, held back for too long, finally broke free. Raw, wrenching sounds of pain, fear, and huge relief tore from his throat. He clung to Echo, shaking, as the invisible claws of the werewolf inside him seemed to scratch at his mind, trying to pull him back into anger. However, the warmth of Echo's hug and the quiet presence of the white werewolves kept him steady.
And then, a strange, utterly illogical thing happened. As Remus's tears soaked into his robe, Echo felt pressure building behind his own eyes. A cold, sharp feeling. His gray hair flickered, then began to glow with a soft, shimmering purple, a color he rarely let show. A single, perfect tear, cold and clear like glass, ran down his pale cheek. Then another. And another. He felt the tension in his own body loosen, a strange, new feeling of relief. He didn't have to be logical. He didn't have to be calm. Not now. Not with Remus.
He squeezed Remus tighter, his voice a low, raw whisper, completely without its usual flatness, for the first time in a long time, truly human. "It's… It's okay, Remus. It's okay."