The air at Hogsmeade Station buzzed with people leaving for the holiday, lots of laughing and goodbyes, and the train letting out steam. Echo, Lily, and Severus stood a bit away from everyone else, the cold November wind blowing their robes. Echo's black hair was a dull grey, but you could see flashes of deep, troubled blue-purple in it. His voice, clear now, had a tiny bit of sadness that didn't match his totally blank face.
"Bummer, I can't go," Echo said quietly. "I really wanted to see what pie was all about, and check out how your family acts. Would've been good to, you know, learn stuff." He sighed, a soft sound lost in the station noise.
Lily, looking super annoyed, turned to Professor McGonagall, who stood there looking serious. "Professor, please," Lily begged, sounding desperate. "There has to be a way. Echo's like family. My parents would totally love him!"
McGonagall pushed up her glasses, her look firm. "Miss Evans, I get how you feel. But the rules are clear. For a student to leave for a holiday and stay with another family, we need a signed paper from their own parents or guardians. Mr. Echo, as we all know, doesn't have that."
Lily threw her hands up, her red hair practically sparking with frustration. "But he's Echo! He doesn't have parents! What are we supposed to do? Leave him here alone? No way! Then we'll just stay here at Hogwarts! Severus and I can stay with him!"
McGonagall still looked serious. "That, I'm afraid, isn't allowed either, Miss Evans. To stay at Hogwarts during a holiday, especially when most staff are gone, requires a different, equally clear permission slip from your parents, saying you can stay. We can't just have students hanging around without proper permission and someone watching them."
"But that's just dumb!" Lily cried, practically begging now, her voice thick with emotion. "It's only a few days! Please, Professor! We can't just leave him here!"
Echo's hair flashed a bright, stressed purple, showing how upset he was inside, but his face stayed perfectly calm. "It's a tough problem, Lily," he mumbled, sounding resigned. "The official rules are just bigger than the feelings about… being with friends."
McGonagall's eyes, though still strict, softened a little. "I truly am sorry, Miss Evans. But rules are rules, and we can't afford to give the Ministry any more reasons to bother us, especially after what happened recently." The quiet mention of the Dementor's Kiss reminded them all of the seriousness of the situation. "It's just not an option."
Lily finally gave up, her shoulders slumping. She stared at the ground, a single tear running down her cheek. Severus, who had been watching quietly, put a comforting hand on her arm.
McGonagall leaned down a bit, her voice much softer. "Listen, Miss Evans, it's just a long four-day weekend. You'll be back before you know it. We can try again next year, and I'll make sure all the papers are ready for you and Mr. Echo way ahead of time. And don't worry; Mr. Echo won't be totally alone at Hogwarts. There will definitely be other students and staff here. He'll have company."
Echo's hair, which had been a mix of blue-purple and purple, calmed down to a sad but steady blue. "Yep," he said, still a bit sad but also determined. "I guess I'll spend my time studying and thinking. Maybe I can finally list all the different kinds of dust bunnies in the dungeons."
Lily let out a weak laugh, wiping her eyes. She hugged Echo tight, then Severus, before slowly heading to the train. "We'll be back before you know it, Echo! And I'll bring you pie!" she promised, sounding a little happier.
Echo nodded, a tiny, almost invisible smile on his lips. His blue hair shimmered with a mix of longing and thanks. "I'm really looking forward to that pie, Lily."
He stood on the platform, a solitary figure against the steam and departing cheers, his blue hair a beacon of quiet melancholy. He watched as Lily and Severus found a window on the train, waving enthusiastically. He raised a hand in return, a slow, almost imperceptible gesture, his blank face a stark contrast to the vivid emotions swirling in his hair. The train whistle gave a final, mournful shriek, and then, with a lurch, it began to move, slowly at first, then picking up speed. Lily's and Severus's faces, framed in the window, grew smaller and smaller until they were no more than distant blurs. Then, the train rounded a bend and vanished, leaving only the lingering smell of coal smoke and a profound, echoing silence.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward, her expression softening as she approached Echo. "Well, Mr. Echo," she said, her voice gentle. "They'll be back before you know it. Now, what would you like to do with this time off? Perhaps a quiet afternoon in the library or a stroll around the lake?"
Echo didn't answer right away. His gaze, fixed on the empty tracks, slowly tightened his grip on the leather-bound notebook clutched in his hand. His blue hair, which had been so calm, began to pulse erratically, streaks of troubled purple and agitated white bleeding through. A single, perfect tear, cold and crystalline, escaped his eye, tracing a path down his otherwise impassive cheek. Then another, and another, until his face was silently, profoundly, dripping with tears.
He looked up at Professor McGonagall, his hollow eyes brimming with an uncharacteristic, raw pain. "I need to be alone," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, utterly devoid of its usual flatness, a broken, desperate sound. And then, without another word, he turned and ran, a blur of green robes and tear-streaked face, disappearing into the cold, empty corridors of the station. Professor McGonagall watched him go, a deep, troubled frown creasing her brow, the notebook in his hand a silent testament to the burdens he carried.
The cold air bit at his exposed skin, but Echo barely registered it. His lungs burned, each gasping breath a ragged testament to the raw, visceral pain tearing through him. His feet, driven by an instinct far deeper than logic, pounded a furious rhythm against the stone paths of Hogwarts. He needed a sanctuary, a place where the crushing weight of unfairness could be unleashed without judgment, a place that understood the chaotic, untamed sorrow churning within him.
He didn't need to think, didn't need to plan. His path was etched into his very being, a desperate homing signal to the one place that had offered him solace before. The seventh floor, the familiar stretch of wall. He paced, not three times, but a frantic, blurring multitude, his mind screaming: Alone. I need to be alone. I need to break something. I need to just… cry until there's nothing left.
The ornate, ancient door, shimmering with the faint scent of magic and old wood, seemed to have always been there. Echo threw it open, the heavy oak thudding against the wall, and stumbled inside. The door, a silent guardian, closed behind him, plunging him into the blessed, suffocating quiet. He was back. The cozy study, bathed in the soft glow of enchanted lamps, the scent of parchment and old leather, was a comforting embrace. Beyond it, the subtle hum of the magical spell and potion practice area, and the gentle rustle of leaves from the creature vivarium, were faint background music to his internal storm. But he ignored it all. His eyes, swimming with hot, desperate tears, fixed on the small, inviting bed in the corner, its blue covers a soft, welcoming contrast to the turmoil in his soul.
He collapsed onto it, not gently, but with a desperate, bone-jarring impact. His face was buried in the soft pillows, and the dam he had desperately held back for so long burst. Sobs, raw and guttural, tore from his throat, each one a testament to the agony of a life he hadn't chosen, a world that continually rejected the logical parameters of his existence. He punched the mattress, hard, a furious, desperate attempt to physically expel the volcanic rage that threatened to consume him.
"It's not fair!" he screamed, his voice muffled by the downy softness. "It's not fair! Why can't I just have a family? Why can't I be normal? Why can't I…belonge?"
His body convulsed with the force of his grief, the bed shaking with his silent, profound anguish. He beat the mattress until his fists ached, until his knuckles throbbed, but the physical pain was a distant echo compared to the rending agony in his chest. He cried until his throat was raw, until his eyes burned, until his body felt heavy and hollow, utterly depleted. His normally black hair throbbed with a tumultuous, dark, bruised purple, swirling with the chaotic storm of his emotions.
Finally, the sobs subsided, leaving him gasping, hiccuping, and utterly spent. He lay there, a broken figure, staring blankly at the patterns on the blue covers. A tiny, almost inaudible rustle came from the pocket of his robes. Then, a small, furry head, with glistening black eyes and an impossibly long snout, poked out. Sniffles, his Niffler, cautiously emerged, his small body vibrating with a silent concern. He looked up at Echo, a soft, inquisitive chitter emanating from him, a sound that, for all its simplicity, held an unexpected depth of comfort.
Sniffles, with a sensitivity that belied his greedy nature, carefully climbed onto Echo's chest. He nudged his soft fur against Echo's tear-streaked face, letting out another soft, comforting chitter. Then, with an almost deliberate gentleness, he began to meticulously, carefully, collect the tears that still clung to Echo's eyelashes and cheeks, depositing them into his pouch with soft, rhythmic movements. It was a strange act, but in that moment, it was profoundly, exactly what Echo needed. Echo let out a shaky, shuddering sigh. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips, a ghost of the joy that had been so cruelly absent. He reached out a trembling hand and gently stroked Sniffles's soft, bristly fur. The rhythmic, comforting presence of the Niffler, combined with the gentle, almost maternal gesture of collecting his tears, began to soothe the last, ragged edges of his despair. He still felt the unfairness, the profound emptiness, but the sharp, agonizing pain had softened, replaced by a dull, aching throb. He was not entirely alone.
He just lay there for ages, the little sniffle-y sound of Sniffles helping him calm down. His breathing evened out, and the crazy purple in his hair faded to a chill grey. He stared at the ceiling, at the soft lights, feeling pretty much alone. First time he'd been truly by himself at Hogwarts. Four days. Not forever, but still a bunch of time. His head was still a mess from crying, but he started trying to figure out what to do with all this free time. What was the best way to spend it?
He thought about Peeves, the poltergeist. Messing around and having fun with him was always… an experience, but kinda tiring. Or maybe sneaking snacks to Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix. That bird was cool, with its fire and healing tears. Hagrid was an option, too. Go visit him, maybe hang out, and fly with Wick. Could learn some new stuff there. He could also try to make a better Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin. The current one was okay, but it had annoying side effects. He could definitely make it better. And then there was Skate, his mermaid girlfriend. He could spend time with her, maybe even meet her mom again. That was a little nerve-wracking but interesting. Or, he could just keep working on his Beast Magic project. He had his notebook right there, full of ideas. No classes, no people bugging him – perfect for focusing on that.
He closed his eyes, then opened them again. A new idea, a really good one, popped into his head. Beasts. Yeah, that was it. He had the 'Beast's Map' and his magical nab-sack. He could go into the Forbidden Forest, which was full of all sorts of magical creatures. He could catch some, or rescue them, and bring them back to the vivarium in his Room of Requirement. It'd be like his own personal lab. He could study them, learn how they worked, how their magic worked, and figure out how to use it for his own Beast Magic. Plus, he'd learn how to take care of them and heal them.
That was it. That was the plan. It made sense, it felt right, and it would be awesome. He'd be a collector, a protector, a student of all the wild magic out there. He'd turn this lonely time into something amazing. He'd fill it with beasts. He sat up, Sniffles still nestled on his chest, and ran a hand through his now calm, black hair. The tears had dried, leaving faint, salty streaks on his cheeks, but the raw edge of his pain had dulled, replaced by a keen, almost clinical focus. The Niffler, sensing the shift in Echo's mood, chittered softly, then burrowed deeper into his robes, as if offering silent approval of the new plan.
"Alright," Echo mumbled, his voice now flat, the sadness receding into the logical parts of his mind. "The Forbidden Forest. It's got tons of creatures and magic we haven't seen before. Perfect for gathering data." He swung his legs off the bed, moving smoothly and purposefully. He grabbed his 'Beast's Map' from its usual hiding spot in his robe– a complicated, ever-changing map that pulsed with faint magic, showing where different creatures were. He also grabbed his magical nab-sack, a deceptively small, embroidered bag that could hold an entire ecosystem inside its charmed depths.
He strapped the nab-sack to his belt, the map rolled and tucked securely into an inner pocket of his robes. As he moved towards the door of the Room of Requirement, his back hair flickered with a determined, almost predatory emerald. This wasn't just a way to keep busy; it was a mission. A logical, self-assigned task designed to fill the emptiness, both inside and out. He would turn his loneliness into a hunt for knowledge, his pain into power. The Forbidden Forest was waiting. And it had no idea what was coming.
He pushed open the heavy door, the ancient magic of the Room of Requirement receding behind him, and stepped into the quiet corridor. His emerald hair pulsed with anticipation. The Forbidden Forest, a place of mystery and danger, now represented a vast, unexplored data set, a living, breathing textbook of magical biology. He walked with a renewed spring in his step, the earlier sadness completely eclipsed by the thrill of scientific pursuit and the burgeoning sense of purpose.
The sun was already dipping towards the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple as he approached the edge of the forest. The gnarled trees, ancient and forbidding, loomed like silent sentinels. A shiver, not of fear but of pure exhilaration, ran down his spine. This was a place where logic often yielded to raw magic, where the unpredictable was the norm. His usual stomping grounds. Perfect. He consulted his 'Beast's Map,' watching the faint magical pulses indicating various creature territories. His plan was simple: categorize, observe, and, if deemed necessary for study or rescue, acquire. Sniffles, now nestled comfortably in his robes, let out a soft chitter of excitement, perhaps sensing the lucrative potential of such an outing.
His first target was a cluster of glowing magical fungi, indicating the presence of a family of Fwoopers. He found them easily, their bright pink feathers a stark contrast to the deepening shadows of the forest. They were squawking their maddeningly cheerful song, a sound that could drive a wizard insane if listened to for too long.
"Fwoopers," Echo stated, his voice a low, happy murmur. "Excellent. A prime example of auditory magical influence. And their vocalizations... a fascinating anomaly in natural sound production."
He approached cautiously, his nab-sack ready. The Fwoopers, startled by his presence, attempted to flee, but Echo was quicker. He opened the nab-sack in their direction, and with a whoosh of air, they were all instantly sucked inside. As the last one vanished, a wave of satisfaction washed over him, and his emerald hair shimmered with pure, unadulterated delight.
Next, the map indicated a den of Bowtruckles, tiny, twig-like creatures known for their shyness and their ability to pick locks. He spent a delightful half-hour observing their intricate movements as they meticulously dismantled a discarded spiderweb. He appreciated their methodical approach, which was logical elegance in their miniature world. He opened the nab-sack towards a group of particularly curious specimens, and they were immediately pulled into its depths.
As darkness fully descended, the forest truly came alive. Eyes glowed from the shadows, and strange rustlings filled the air. Echo, however, felt no fear, only a heightened sense of awareness. His hair, now a vibrant, inquisitive gold, glowed faintly, illuminating his path. He encountered a herd of majestic Hippogriffs, observing their proud, almost haughty demeanor from a respectful distance. He even managed to have a brief, silent conversation with one, a creature of immense dignity, before moving on.
His attention was then drawn to a frantic red pulse on his map – a creature in distress. He followed the signal, moving swiftly and silently through the undergrowth. He found a young Graphorn, its tough hide scarred, and its two golden horns dulled with fear. It was caught in a poacher's trap, struggling desperately. Its raw, powerful magic pulsed with pain and fear.
Echo's gold hair flared with a protective, furious crimson. This was not a data point; this was a life. He quickly assessed the trap, noting its complex magical enchantments. With a series of swift, precise counter-charms, he disabled the mechanism, freeing the terrified creature. The Graphorn, initially wary, let out a rumbling whimper of gratitude, nudging its enormous head against Echo's hand.
"There, there," Echo murmured, his voice surprisingly soft, a gentle comfort that would have shocked his usual companions. His crimson hair softened to a warm, reassuring rose. "You're safe now. I'll take you somewhere you'll be protected."
He opened the nab-sack in the Graphorn's direction, and the massive creature was gently but firmly drawn into its confines, shrinking down to a manageable size. He felt a profound sense of accomplishment, a deep, illogical warmth spreading through his chest. This was more than just gathering data; it was an act of genuine care.
He continued his journey, encountering a scattering of mischievous Doxy, who buzzed with indignant energy. He opened the nab-sack, and they were instantly sucked inside. Next, he found a large flock of Diricawl. He then opened the nab-sack in their direction, and several too were 'acquired' before they could apparate. Finally, he spotted a small, iridescent Occamy that coiled itself around his arm, seemingly quite content. With a gentle motion, he opened the nab-sack, and the Occamy gracefully spiraled into the enchanted bag. Each new creature brought a fresh surge of happiness, a growing sense of purpose that resonated deeply within him.
He consulted his map again, a faint, curious hum vibrating through his hair, now a vibrant, inquisitive green. A cluster of faint, ethereal pulses indicated the presence of a mooncalf herd, shy creatures that emerged only during the full moon. He decided to observe them from a distance, appreciating their delicate, almost otherworldly grace as they frolicked in a moonlit clearing, their large, round eyes reflecting the silver light. He made a mental note of their preferred foraging spots and their gentle interactions, cataloging the data for future reference.
Further into the forest, the map showed a denser, more agitated cluster of magical signatures. Echo approached with caution, his green hair darkening to a protective, analytical indigo. He found a group of agitated, three-headed Runespoors, their scales gleaming in the faint moonlight. They were clearly in a territorial dispute with a family of aggressive Knarls, spiny creatures known for their ill temper. The scene was chaotic, a flurry of hissing, snapping, and flying sharp quills.
Echo, ever the pragmatist, saw an opportunity for both study and intervention. He carefully separated the two groups using a series of non-verbal, non-harmful charms, temporarily stunning the Knarls and gently corralling the Runespoors. He observed their distinct magical signatures and their differing behavioral patterns in conflict. Once the immediate danger was diffused, he opened his nab-sack towards a particularly vocal Runespoor, and it, along with a few of its companions, was swiftly and safely acquired. He then turned his attention to the disgruntled Knarls, carefully maneuvering them into the nab-sack as well.
His next discovery was a colony of vibrant, jewel-toned Flobberworms, their slow, rhythmic movements a stark contrast to the earlier chaos. He spent a few minutes observing their digestive processes, noting the subtle magical properties of their slime. He then collected a few specimens, ensuring they were transported comfortably within the nab-sack.
As the night wore on, Echo's collection grew. He came across a nest of Grindylows, their long, sinewy fingers and sharp teeth making them formidable, if small, opponents. He expertly disarmed them with a combination of surprising speed and precise charms, quickly adding them to his growing menagerie.
Finally, his map showed a faint, almost shimmering purple pulse: a group of Kneazles. Echo approached cautiously, his indigo hair shimmering with quiet curiosity. He found a small family, their fluffy tails swishing, their intelligent eyes watching him with a wary gaze. He admired their independent spirit and their acute sense of danger. With a patient, gentle approach, he managed to coax a few of them into the nab-sack, promising them a safe and comfortable new home. Nearby, a cluster of even fainter purple pulses indicated a group of large, warty purple toads. They sat unmoving, their bulbous eyes reflecting the moonlight. Echo, ever keen on expanding his understanding of magical fauna, carefully scooped a few of these docile creatures into his nab-sack as well.
His map then highlighted two stronger, more vibrant silver-white pulses, unusually isolated from any larger herd of their kind. He recognized the distinct magical signature: Unicorns. He knew of Skip and her baby, Chip, who often roamed the deeper parts of the forest. Following the signal, he found them in a secluded clearing, far from the main unicorn herd. Skip, the mare, looked agitated, her horn glowing faintly as she nudged her foal, Chip, deeper into the shadows of the trees. Echo's heart ached. He knew the risk: isolated unicorns, especially foals, were prime targets for poachers. He had personally intervened in such a situation before, and the thought of Skip and Chip enduring that terror again filled him with a fierce resolve.
He approached slowly, his indigo hair softening to a gentle, reassuring silver. Skip, recognizing him, whinnied softly, a sound of weary trust. He explained his plan, his voice soft but firm, assuring her of a safe haven in his vivarium. Skip nudged Chip, and the little foal, after a moment of hesitation, trotted towards Echo. With a gentle touch, Echo opened the nab-sack, and the two magnificent creatures, trusting him implicitly, were absorbed into its magical depths.
Echo stood in the moonlit clearing, his nab-sack feeling heavier, but his heart lighter. His silver hair pulsed with a profound sense of peace and accomplishment. He had turned a solitary, painful night into a mission of protection and discovery. The emptiness he had felt earlier was not entirely gone. Still, it was overshadowed by a burgeoning sense of purpose, a quiet understanding that even in his own unique, illogical way, he could make a difference. He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that, even if it didn't quite reach his eyes, felt warm and true. The Forbidden Forest, once a symbol of his solitude, had become a testament to his burgeoning compassion.
He started heading back to the castle, the moon high up, making long, spooky shadows on the forest floor. His silver hair was still glowing a bit, giving off a soft light. He checked his 'Beast's Map,' seeing how far he'd gone and what magical stuff was still around. As he got closer to the edge of the forest, something new popped up on the map. It was faint at first, then stronger, gone, only to show up again in the exact same spot. It was a weird little silver flicker that just didn't move like other creatures.
Echo frowned, his silver hair going from curious orange to thoughtful blue. This thing was just one spot, and it didn't move at all. It would show up, stay for a few seconds, then vanish, only to pop back up right where it started. Doesn't make sense, he thought. Something acting like that means it's either super good at hiding with magic, or it's just giving off energy in short bursts from one place.
His brain, now fully awake, made him forget about wanting to rest. He changed direction, going after the signal that was there but not there. The forest got quieter as he went deeper into a less-used part, the trees getting thicker, their branches forming a dense roof that blocked out most of the moonlight. The signal got stronger as he got closer, appearing and disappearing faster. He finally reached a small clearing, really dark with shadows. The map said the creature was right in front of him, but he couldn't see a thing. His blue hair pulsed with a soft, thinking purple. He knew what that meant. He stood still, really focusing his senses. The air shimmered just a tiny bit. He waited. And then, for a quick moment, he saw it. A flash of delicate, ape-like features, big, dark eyes, and long, silky hair, before it vanished again, perfectly blending in.
Demiguise, Echo realized, a little excited. Amazing camouflage. And it can see the future, which is why it kept popping on and off the map.
He looked around the clearing, searching for any sign, any ripple in the air that would show where it was. His eyes landed on a big, ripped canvas tarp, thrown over what looked like a pile of old wood. It seemed out of place, unnatural in the forest. He walked carefully towards the tarp, his purple hair buzzing with anticipation. He reached out a hand and pulled the tarp aside with a quick, firm yank.
There, huddled underneath it, was a Demiguise. Its big, soulful eyes, usually calm and wise, were wide with a deep, almost human fear. Its long, silvery hair, which could usually make it invisible, was matted and dull, clinging to its trembling body. Around its small, delicate form, a rough, rusty chain was wrapped tightly, tying it to a heavy, spiked log. The chain dug into its skin, leaving tiny drops of blood. The Demiguise let out a soft, terrified whimper, its usually wise eyes now full of a desperate plea.
Echo's purple hair flared, not with excitement but with a fierce, protective crimson. His flat expression remained, but a chilling intensity burned in his hollow eyes. This wasn't just some creature; it was a victim, suffering because of stupid human cruelty. He knelt, quick and precise, and checked the chain. It was old and rusty, with a basic lock charm.
"It makes no sense," Echo grumbled, his low growl sharper now with anger. He pulled out his wand and aimed it at the rusty chain. "Alohomora Maxima," he said, his voice echoing a bit in the small space.
With a sharp CRACK, the old lock broke, sending rusty bits flying everywhere. The chain fell off the Demiguise, clattering against the log. The creature, still shaking, slowly uncurled, its big eyes on Echo.
Echo held out a hand, surprisingly gentle, and stroked the matted, silvery fur. "You're safe now," he said, his voice softer, the crimson in his hair turning to a comforting, warm rose. "No more stupid human badness. I can take you somewhere safe. A place where you'll be protected, where your powers will be respected, and where no one will treat you like... that."
He opened his nab-sack, the embroidered bag glowing softly with a gentle, inviting light. After a long look into Echo's hollow eyes, the Demiguise let out a soft, almost silent sigh. Slowly, nervously, it took a step towards the open nab-sack, then another, until it gracefully slipped inside.
As the creature vanished, Echo felt a huge wave of relief. His rose-colored hair shimmered, a quiet, almost tender warmth spreading through him. He stood up, looking at the thrown-away tarp and the broken chain. What started as a search for knowledge had surprisingly become a rescue mission, and the empty feeling inside him felt a little less vast, a little more purposeful. He then left the clearing, wanting to get as far away as possible between the poor creature and the memory of that awful cage.
He was almost out of the forest, his black hair a soft glow in the pre-dawn dark, when he heard a terrible wail. Echo stopped, his black hair flashing with alarm. That sound, so sad and desperate, could only be Hagrid.
Echo changed direction, moving fast and quietly towards the noise. He came out of the trees near Hagrid's hut, and what he saw made his chest clench. Hagrid, the big, usually happy gamekeeper, was hunched over his chicken coop, his huge shoulders shaking. The coop was a mess: feathers everywhere, broken wood, and a really bad, metallic smell.
Echo walked over carefully, his black hair dimming to a worried grey. "Hagrid?" he asked softly, his usual flat tone gone, replaced by real concern. "What's up?"
Hagrid looked up, his face red and tear-streaked. His eyes, usually kind, were wide with pain. "Oh, Echo, lad," he choked out, his voice thick with sadness. "It's me chickens. Somethin' got 'em when I wasn't lookin'. Killed almost every single hen and cockerel I had. Just… just a disaster, it is." He waved vaguely at the broken coop, fresh tears starting. "Me best Black Minorcas, me Rhode Island Reds… all gone. Every last one."
Echo looked around, his black hair flickering with a thoughtful blue. A lot of damage, and that smell of fear and death hung heavy. "A creature, you said?" Echo asked, his eyes scanning the ground for tracks.
Hagrid nodded sadly. "Yeah. A quick one, too. Didn't even hear it 'til it was too late. Just a blur. Came from over there," he pointed a shaky, thick finger towards a really thick part of the forest, further from where Echo had been earlier.
Echo thought about it. No classes, nothing urgent to do, and this growing, almost nagging need to have a purpose. This was a clear, logical problem that needed fixing. "Hagrid," Echo said, his voice firm, "I'll find what did this."
Hagrid's head shot up, his eyes wide. "You would, Echo? You'd really do that for me?"
"Yeah," Echo replied simply. "It fits with what I can do right now. And it's just wrong, you know?"
Before Echo could react, Hagrid gave him a huge, rib-crushing hug. "Oh, thank you, lad! Thank you! You're a good one, Echo, a really good one!"
Echo, a bit breathless, managed a tiny, almost invisible nod during the hug. When Hagrid finally let go, Echo ran a hand through his now slightly messy black hair. "Exactly where did it come from?" he asked again, more precisely.
Hagrid, still sniffling but with a little hope in his eyes, pointed again. "Straight that way, deep into the trees. Be careful, now, Echo."
"Of course," Echo mumbled, already turning and heading in that direction. His black hair pulsed with a determined, focused green. He checked his 'Beast's Map, which immediately started showing faint, fresh traces of magic going deeper into the unexplored part of the forest. This was a new hunt, new information, and a new reason to fill the empty hours.
He followed the trail, moving quickly through the thick bushes. Along the way, his map showed a small group of magical signals near a patch of glowing moss. He stopped, recognizing the playful, almost innocent aura. He found a bunch of fluffy, round Puffskeins, happily bouncing around and purring softly. Their bright, curious eyes looked up at him. Echo, always efficient, opened his nab-sack, and with a gentle whoosh, the Puffskeins were safely inside, their soft purrs still audible from the enchanted bag. A few minutes later, he came across a single, lost Mooncalf, its big, round eyes full of gentle, confused sadness. It had clearly wandered away from its group. Echo, with a quiet, comforting murmur, coaxed it into the nab-sack, adding it to his growing collection of rescued creatures.
The trail of Hagrid's chicken killer got stronger, leading him to a clearing where the air felt strangely still, almost heavy. His black hair got brighter, now glowing with a lively, alert emerald. The map showed a strong, single magical signal, wild and aggressive. He moved forward slowly, his nab-sack ready, his senses sharp. From the shadows, a flash of movement, a blur of leathery wings, and a long, twisty neck. A dark, bird-like creature, with a long, thin snout and a big, almost mean-looking grin, swooped low, its poisonous fangs glinting in the faint light.
"A Swooping Evil," Echo said, his voice flat, but with a hint of grim satisfaction. "Good at hunting. And apparently, really likes chickens."
Without a second thought, Echo aimed his nab-sack at the creature. With a whoosh of air, the Swooping Evil, completely surprised, was sucked into the enchanted bag, its frustrated squawk quickly silenced. Echo closed the nab-sack with a firm snap, a faint, almost triumphant little smile on his face. His black hair shimmered with a deep sense of accomplishment. He had found the culprit. Justice was done.
But as he stood there, the high of it started to fade, replaced by something that just didn't make sense. His green hair flickered with a questioning purple. "Hold on," he mumbled to himself, pulling out his Beast Magic notebook and flipping through its pages. "Swooping Evils are supposed to eat smart stuff's brains, mostly human brains. Why would it go after chickens? There's not enough food in them, and chickens aren't exactly rocket scientists. It just doesn't fit."
He re-read the notes, checking what he knew about them. His purple hair pulsed faster, a worried blue showing through. Unless… it wasn't hunting. The idea hit him hard, like a really fast Bludger. It was just trying to protect itself. It was scared. But of what? What could scare a creature made to hunt thinking beings, a creature with venom that could make you forget things, out here in the Forbidden Forest? His hair flared into an angry red, showing this was way bigger than just some chicken killer. He turned slowly, super alert, looking into the shadows, his wand held loosely.
The answer didn't come from the shadows, though. It came from a sudden, hot blast on the back of his neck. A hot, raspy breath, smelling a bit like dirt and something musky, brushed against his skin. Echo froze, every logical bit of him screaming danger. He didn't need a map to tell him something huge and powerful was right behind him. Slowly, carefully, he turned, his now white hair glowing, his hollow eyes meeting the terrifying, glowing red stare of a Bugbear.
His mind, still reeling from the sudden appearance, quickly re-evaluated the situation. A Bugbear. The sheer size, the glowing red eyes, the primitive, aggressive stance—it made far more logical sense as the culprit for Hagrid's chickens. Bugbears, despite their intimidating presence, were notoriously opportunistic predators, often targeting creatures smaller and weaker than themselves. Chickens, indeed, would be a readily available and appealing meal for such a beast. The earlier anomaly of the Swooping Evil was now logically explained; it was likely fleeing this terror, its attack on the chickens a desperate act of self-preservation, a secondary consequence of the Bugbear's presence. The Bugbear, a hulking mass of shaggy fur and muscle, let out a guttural roar, its red eyes flaring with aggressive intent. It lunged, a surprisingly swift movement for its size, claws extended. Echo reacted instantly, his wand flashing.
"Stupefy!" he barked, his voice sharp with command. A bolt of crimson light shot from his wand, striking the Bugbear squarely in the chest. The creature merely grunted, shaking its massive head as if swatting away a bothersome fly, and continued its charge, seemingly unfazed.
"Expelliarmus!" Another spell, aimed at its foreleg, caused a brief flicker in its charge, but again, the effect was negligible. The Bugbear roared again, closer now, its breath hot and foul.
Echo dodged a swipe of its claw, rolling to the side. His black hair pulsed with a frantic, analytical energy. Magically resistant hide, he realized. Standard offensive spells are ineffective. He had to try something else.
He extended a hand towards the rampaging beast, his mind focusing on drawing on the raw, chaotic energy of his Beast Magic. His black hair shimmered, then bled into a soft, calming sapphire, pulsing with his intent. "Calm," he murmured, his voice low, projecting a wave of tranquil emotion towards the creature. "Peace. Relaxation."
The Bugbear paused, its head tilting slightly, its glowing red eyes flickering. For a moment, a flicker of hope ignited in Echo's chest. Then, with a frustrated bellow, the creature lunged again, its charge even more furious than before. The sapphire in Echo's hair dissolved into a troubled grey. No effect, he concluded, his jaw tightening. The creature's aggression overrides emotional influence.
As the Bugbear closed in, Echo caught a glimpse of something around its thick neck—a heavy, studded leather collar, black and ominous, with faint, almost imperceptible magical runes etched into its surface. A fight collar, the recognition slammed into him with chilling clarity. Unethical beast trainers and beast fighters used these rings, designed to enhance aggression and control through a potent, addictive cocktail of magical drugs. The Bugbear wasn't inherently savage; it was being systematically poisoned, driven to a frenzy by a manufactured addiction. It was lashing out because it was in withdrawal, desperate for its next 'fix.'
His black hair flared into a furious, protective crimson, blazing with indignation. This wasn't a wild beast; it was a victim. And its tormentor was still out there. This wasn't just a hunt anymore; it was a rescue—a dangerous, personal intervention. He wouldn't just subdue this creature; he would free it. But first, he needed to take that collar off.
"Alright, big guy," Echo muttered, his voice low and firm, the crimson in his hair blazing with renewed determination. "Let's see about getting you some help."
He feigned a retreat, drawing the Bugbear further into the clearing. As the creature pursued him, its roars echoing through the trees, Echo began a complex series of evasive maneuvers. He dodged, weaved, and spun, always keeping just out of reach, his eyes fixed on the thick leather collar around its neck. He needed an opening, a moment of stillness, to disarm the enchantment.
The Bugbear, driven by its enforced aggression and withdrawal, became increasingly frustrated. It swiped, snapped, and lunged with savage abandon, tearing at the undergrowth. Echo, despite the peril, moved with a strange, almost fluid grace, anticipating each attack. His mind worked at lightning speed to predict its next move. His crimson hair flickered with bursts of analytical blue, processing every detail of the beast's movements.
Finally, the Bugbear, tiring from its relentless assault, paused for a fraction of a second, its massive chest heaving. That was all Echo needed. With a burst of speed, he closed the distance, his hand shooting out. He didn't aim for the creature itself, but for the collar. His fingers brushed against the rough leather, and he felt the faint, insidious thrum of dark magic radiating from the runes.
"Finite Incantatem Maxima!" Echo roared, his wand blazing with a powerful, focused light. The spell hit the collar squarely, and a jarring, almost painful magical feedback coursed through it. The runes flared, then crackled and sparked, releasing a puff of acrid smoke. With a final, agonizing SNAP, the collar broke, falling to the forest floor in two charred pieces.
The Bugbear staggered, its eyes widening, the aggressive red fading to a bewildered, pained yellow. It let out a confused whine, shaking its massive head as if clearing it of a thick fog. The magical drugs, no longer being pumped into its system, were leaving its body, and the full, crushing weight of withdrawal slammed into it. It sank to its haunches, a pained growl rumbling in its throat as its body trembled.
Echo approached cautiously, his crimson hair softening to a gentle, healing rose. He knelt before the massive beast, its raw vulnerability now laid bare. Echo projected his emotions once more through his magic, giving a sense of calm and ease. "Easy there, big guy," he murmured, his voice soft, almost a lullaby. "It's over. No more pain."
He extended a hand, not holding his wand, but offering it open, a gesture of pure, unconditional trust. The Bugbear watched him, its yellow eyes clouded with pain and confusion, but also a nascent flicker of something akin to gratitude. Slowly, hesitantly, it lowered its enormous head, nudging it gently into Echo's outstretched palm. Echo stroked its thick, shaggy fur, a wave of profound empathy washing over him. The Bugbear, a creature of fear and aggression, was just another victim, trapped in a cycle of suffering it couldn't understand. He ran a comforting hand over its scarred hide, feeling the tremors that still wracked its massive body.
"It's going to be okay," Echo promised, his voice thick with genuine emotion and his rose hair shimmering with compassion. I'm going to help you. I'm going to take you somewhere safe, somewhere you can heal."
He opened his nab-sack, the embroidered bag glowing with a soft, inviting light. The Bugbear, its trust seemingly complete, slowly, deliberately, nudged its head towards the opening. With a gentle whoosh, the massive creature was absorbed into the magical confines of the bag, shrinking down to a manageable size, its pained whimpers replaced by a soft, almost contented sigh.
Echo closed the nab-sack, a deep, abiding sense of peace settling over him. His rose hair pulsed with warmth and profound satisfaction. He had come into the forest as a student, but he was leaving as a rescuer, a protector. The emptiness in his chest, which had felt so vast and cold only hours before, was now filled with a quiet, powerful purpose. He looked at the discarded tarp, the broken chain, the lingering scent of despair. This was a dark corner of the forest, a testament to human cruelty. He would ensure no other creature suffered here.
With a final, lingering glance at the now-empty clearing, Echo turned and headed back towards the castle, the first faint hints of dawn painting the eastern sky. His footsteps were lighter, his spirit renewed. He still had four days of holiday, four days to explore, learn, and heal. And with the heavy nab-sack at his side, filled with the promise of new life and new knowledge, he knew exactly how he would spend them.
He walked out of the trees just as the sun was coming up, painting the sky in pretty colors. His pink hair still glowed a bit, happy about rescuing everyone. He headed straight for Hagrid's hut, where he could still smell the burnt chicken coop. Hagrid was still there, sitting on an upside-down bucket, looking really down.
"Hagrid," Echo said softly, getting his attention.
Hagrid looked up, his eyes all red and puffy. "Echo, lad! Any luck?"
Echo gave a small nod. "Yeah. I caught the bad guy." He opened his nab-sack, and with a soft whoosh, the (much smaller now) Swooping Evil popped out for a second before going back in. "It was a Swooping Evil. It was pushed here because something bigger scared it off."
Hagrid blinked, confused. "A Swooping Evil? But… they don't usually eat chickens, do they?"
"Exactly," Echo confirmed. "It was super desperate, running from something else. The real problem, Hagrid, was a Bugbear. It had this magic collar, making it aggressive, probably going through withdrawals. I… took care of it and brought the Bugbear back to help it recover."
Hagrid's mouth dropped open. "A Bugbear? And you…you fought it by yourself? And then you… saved it?" He looked at Echo with huge respect. "Echo, lad, you're a proper hero!"
Echo just shrugged, his pink hair flickering a little, almost embarrassed. "It was the smart thing to do, Hagrid. The creature was a victim." He paused, looking a bit softer. "I also… grabbed a few other critters. Fwoopers, Bowtruckles, Doxys, Diricawls, an Occamy, Runespoors, Knarls, Flobberworms, Grindylows, Puffskeins, a Mooncalf, some Kneazles, big purple toads, and Skip and Chip, the unicorns."
Hagrid's eyes got even wider, and a huge smile slowly spread across his face. "Blimey, Echo! That's a right proper collection! You'll have that vivarium of yours stuffed full!" He clapped Echo on the back, a gentle but strong whack. "Thanks, lad. Really. You did a good thing."
"No problem, Hagrid," Echo replied, his voice getting back to normal, but with a real warmth underneath. He turned, already planning his next steps. "I need to get back to my Room of Requirement now. The creatures need my attention right away."
He left Hagrid still amazed and hurried back to the castle. The sun was fully up now, shining golden light on the old stones. He went up to the seventh floor, his mind buzzing with everything he had to do.
Inside the Room of Requirement, he walked past the comfy study and headed straight for the creature vivarium. With a few quick movements, he let everything out of his nab-sack. One by one, the creatures appeared at their normal size, blinking in the soft light of the magical habitat. The Fwoopers immediately started their happy chirping, the Bowtruckles climbed miniature trees, the Doxys zipped around, and the Diricawl pecked at enchanted seeds. The Occamy curled gracefully around a branch, its scales sparkling. The Runespoors and Knarls, calm now, found their own spots. The Flobberworms slowly oozed, the Grindylows splashed in a small, magical pond, and the Puffskeins bounced playfully. The Mooncalf shyly looked around. The Kneazles and purple toads got comfortable. Skip and Chip, the unicorns, stood proudly in a quiet, moonlit clearing in the vivarium, their silver horns softly glowing.
Finally, it was the Bugbear's turn. With a soft whoosh, the huge creature appeared. It stood there, confused, its yellow eyes blurry with pain. It let out a low, sad growl, its body shaking as the withdrawals really hit.
Echo walked closer carefully, his pink hair glowing with caring warmth. "Easy there, big guy," he mumbled. "It's gonna be tough for a bit, but you're safe now. No more collar. No more hurting." He had already set up a private, big space in the vivarium, full of soft hay and a large, calm pool of water. He spent the next few hours carefully looking after the Bugbear, giving it special calming potions, watching its breathing closely, and gently stroking its fur as it whimpered and struggled through the withdrawals. He named it 'Grumble,' because of its first, confused growls, hoping it would make happier sounds someday. As the sun got higher, Echo realized one creature hadn't come out of his nab-sack. The Demiguise. He reached into the bag, and the silvery monkey-like creature slowly, carefully, appeared. Its eyes, though still a little scared, weren't as full of fear now. But its matted fur was still dirty and clumped together.
"You don't want to stay in there, do you?" Echo said softly, a rare, gentle understanding in his voice. His pink hair shimmered. The Demiguise shook its head with a small, almost invisible gesture.
"Alright," Echo agreed, a faint, genuine smile on his lips. You're too smart for a vivarium anyway." He then began to heal and clean the creature, carefully picking out the matted bits from its fur, applying soothing cream to its raw skin, and gently washing away the dirt until its silvery coat shone. While he worked, he spoke to it in low, comforting tones, explaining its new home and freedom in the Room of Requirement.
Once the Demiguise was clean and calm, it looked up at him, its smart eyes filled with silent thanks. "I'll call you 'Shimmer,'" Echo decided, the name matching its beautiful, camouflaged fur. "You can stay here, in the main part of the room. You'll be safe, and you'll have all the space you need."
Shimmer, as if it understood, gave a soft chirrup and, with a graceful move, disappeared, reappearing moments later on a high bookshelf, its big eyes watching Echo with a calm, knowing look. Echo smiled, a real, happy smile that reached his eyes, making them sparkle with a rare, deep joy. His pink hair glowed with warmth and happiness. The Room of Requirement, once a lonely place, now felt wonderfully alive, filled with the soft rustle of creatures, the hum of magic, and the quiet, watchful presence of Shimmer. He wasn't alone anymore. And he couldn't wait to share all of this with his friends.