The summer holidays, for Echo, were a canvas of endless blue sky and the rhythmic beat of dragon wings. He spent his days far from the familiar spires of Hogwarts and the bustling streets of Hogsmeade, soaring on Wick's broad back, venturing south to explore the hidden tapestry of small towns and hamlets that dotted the landscape. From his aerial perch, the world unfolded beneath him in miniature – patchwork fields, winding rivers, and clusters of cottages like scattered pebbles. His black hair, often a vibrant green with the thrill of flight, streamed behind him as Wick cut graceful arcs through the clouds.
One sweltering afternoon, as they drifted over a particularly verdant valley, a discordant clamor rose from below. An uproar, so loud and frantic, carried on the wind, reaching Echo even at their considerable altitude. His green hair flickered with concern. This wasn't the usual hum of village life; this was raw panic and anger.
"Hold steady, Wick," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the rush of air. With a focused flick of his wrist, his hair flared a vibrant green, and Nibbles, the Chupacabra, shimmered into existence on his shoulder. "Time to see what's happening, little one." He linked himself to the beast, and the world snapped into sharp, terrifying focus. Through Nibbles' telescopic vision, the distant hamlet became startlingly clear.
A mob of villagers, their faces contorted with rage, surrounded a central pole. Tied to it, an old woman, her clothes tattered, her grey hair disheveled, struggled against her bonds. At her feet, a small fire had been set, its flames already licking at the dry kindling. A collective gasp of horror escaped Echo's lips. This was barbaric. He couldn't stand by. He broke the connection to Nibbles, the world blurring back to its normal scale, and de-summoned the Chupacabra back to its vivarium in the Room of Requirement. His green hair pulsed with cold fury. He then linked to Shimmer, who was already perched on his shoulder, and with a thought, he became invisible, melting into the air atop Wick's back.
"Down, Wick! And make some noise!" he commanded, his voice a low growl.
Wick, sensing the urgency in his tone, folded her wings and plummeted towards the hamlet, letting out a deafening roar that echoed through the valley. The villagers, already on edge, looked up to see the colossal dragon circling overhead, a terrifying silhouette against the afternoon sun. Panic erupted. Wick landed in the center of the clearing, breathing a controlled burst of fire that scorched the ground before letting out another ear-splitting roar. The villagers, screaming in terror, scattered like startled mice, vanishing into their homes and the surrounding woods.
Once the clearing was empty, Echo turned visible. His hair, still blazing green, softened to a determined blue. With a flick of his wand, a torrent of water erupted, dousing the flames at the old woman's feet. Sniffles, who had been peeking out of Echo's robe pocket, skittered out and, with surprising speed, gnawed through the ropes binding the old woman. Echo rushed forward, helping her off the pile of kindling. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice laced with concern, but even as he spoke, a strange sensation prickled at the back of his neck. The old woman was human, undoubtedly, but something in his body, an old, primal instinct, was telling him something was off.
She coughed, her voice raspy, but managed a weak smile. "Aye, lad, just a bit shaken up. Thank you, truly. The name's Ethel, Granny Ethel."
"Why were they trying to burn you alive, Granny Ethel?" Echo asked, his blue eyes searching her face.
Granny Ethel sighed, a weary sound. "In simple terms, dearie," she said, her eyes, though kind, holding a glint of something ancient and knowing, "I'm a hag."
Echo blinked, his gaze sweeping over Granny Ethel. Her face was indeed a roadmap of wrinkles, her nose slightly hooked, and a few prominent warts dotted her chin. Her disheveled grey hair, straggly and thin, did little to enhance her appearance. His blue hair flickered, a faint blush of embarrassment for his own thoughts coloring it red.
"Well, Granny Ethel," Echo began, choosing his words carefully, "you're certainly no spring chicken, and definitely not the prettiest flower in the field, but I wouldn't go so far as to call you a hag."
Ethel let out a cackle, a dry, rustling sound that seemed to age her another twenty years. "Oh, bless your heart, dearie. You misunderstand. I'm not some old, unsightly woman. I am an actual hag."
Echo's eyes widened, his red hair flaring to a deep, astonished purple. The realization clicked into place. Hags. Beings that looked almost identical to regular witches, but often old, warty, and with a particular affinity for dark magic, though not necessarily evil. And Ethel, with her warts and ancient appearance, certainly fit the description.
"Oh," he breathed, the embarrassment returning. "Right. An actual hag. My apologies." His purple hair softened to a more thoughtful blue. "So, why exactly were they trying to burn an actual hag alive, Granny Ethel?"
She sighed, a weary sound. "They believe I've been kidnapping their children. Eating them, performing rituals to gain their magic, all that nonsense."
Echo's blue eyes narrowed. "And did you?"
"Did I what?" Ethel asked, her own eyes twinkling with a strange mix of annoyance and amusement. "Kidnap and eat their children? No, dearie, of course not! It was wolves. A pack of particularly aggressive ones has been preying on the village. I was trying to use my magic to make the wolves go away, to protect the children."
"But they didn't understand," Echo surmised, his voice low. "They just saw a hag, an old woman known for dark magic, with mind-controlled animals around her, and jumped to the worst possible conclusion."
"Precisely!" Ethel huffed, crossing her arms. "And for the record, no hag eats children or uses them for rituals anymore. That's only something that happened back in the Middle Ages. All hag covens abolished the practice long before the Ministry of Magic was even founded, and we were classified as beings. Now we just use creatures and magical beasts for rituals. Much more efficient, and far less messy, I assure you."
Echo considered this, his blue hair flickering with a faint, dark amusement. "That's fair," he said. "Completely fair."
Then, a thought struck him, a subtle shift in his understanding. "So, when you said you were 'using your magic to make the wolves go away', you didn't mean scaring them off, did you? You meant… controlling them?"
Ethel's eyes twinkled. "A hag's magic, dearie, is deeply tied to the natural world. And sometimes, the most efficient way to 'make something go away' is to, shall we say, persuade it to go in a different direction. Permanently." She gave a knowing wink, and a faint, earthy scent of ancient magic seemed to emanate from her.
Echo chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. "Right. I understand perfectly." His blue hair flickered with a shared, mischievous understanding. "So, what will you do now, Granny Ethel? These villagers clearly aren't going to welcome you back with open arms."
Ethel sighed, a weary sound. "That, dearie, is the perennial problem of a hag in a human village. We are misunderstood, feared, and often persecuted. I suppose I'll do what I always do: pack up my meager belongings and move on. Find another isolated patch of wilderness where I can practice my craft in peace, until some other ignorant folk decide I'm the cause of their woes."
A sudden idea sparked in Echo's mind, bright and daring. His blue hair flared with excitement, then settled into a determined green. "What if you didn't have to?" he asked, leaning forward. "What if you had a place, a sanctuary, where you could live and practice your magic without fear of persecution?"
"What do you mean, dearie?" Ethel asked, her eyes narrowing slightly, a flicker of suspicion replacing the weariness. "There's no such place for a hag like me, not in these parts."
Echo's green hair pulsed with conviction. "There is," he insisted. "The Forbidden Forest, right next to Hogwarts Castle. It's vast, untamed, and brimming with ancient magic. It's the perfect place for someone like you to make a home, a true sanctuary." He paused, then his smile faltered slightly. "So long as you don't mind the giant spiders, of course. And the unicorns, though they usually keep to themselves. And a few stray magical creatures that clearly get dumped there by idiots. Oh, and the centaurs. They're a bit… territorial, but mostly harmless if you respect their boundaries."
Ethel's eyes widened, her already wrinkled face contorting into a mask of pure horror. "Giant spiders?" she croaked, her voice barely a whisper. "And centaurs? And… other creatures?" She visibly shivered. "That sounds like a death trap, lad, not a sanctuary!"
Echo chuckled, a slightly embarrassed sound. "It's really not that bad, I promise. I spend a lot of time there myself. And you wouldn't be entirely alone. Plus, you're a hag! You have powerful magic. You could easily ward off anything that truly threatened you." His green hair settled into a calm, reassuring blue.
Ethel stared at him for a long moment, a complex mix of fear and desperate hope warring in her ancient eyes. Finally, she let out a long, slow breath. "And what do you want in return for this, dearie?" she asked, her voice tinged with the cynicism born of centuries of harsh experience. "A hag never gets something for nothing. What's your price?"
Echo frowned, his blue hair flickering with mild annoyance at her assumption. "My price?" he repeated, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, Granny Ethel, unless you can magically give me back my friends and at least a begrudging respect from my school peers, then I really don't want a thing from you. This is just… a good deed for a person down on their luck."
Ethel's eyes, however, gleamed with an unexpected intensity. "Oh, but I can, little one," she hissed, her voice a low, knowing rumble that sent a shiver down Echo's spine. "I can certainly do that. I know of ancient hag rituals, long forgotten, that can subtly sway perceptions, mend broken bonds, and… influence the tides of fortune. It would take time, and a little of your magic, but I could do it."
Echo's blue hair flared a violent, defiant red. "No!" he declared, his voice ringing with absolute conviction. "Absolutely not! I don't want to force my situation to change. If things are going to get better, if I'm going to get my friends back, if my peers are going to respect me, then I'll work for it. I'll earn it. Otherwise, nothing happens at all." He took a deep, steadying breath. "This isn't about me. This is just… a good deed. For a person down on their luck."
Ethel studied him for a long moment, her ancient eyes piercing, as if trying to discern the true depths of his resolve. Finally, a slow, almost imperceptible smile spread across her face, a genuine warmth replacing the initial cynicism. "Very well, dearie," she said, her voice softening. "A good deed, then. And a place in the Forbidden Forest. I accept."
Echo beamed, his red hair settling into a relieved, contented blue. "Excellent!" he exclaimed. "Now, have you ever flown before?"
Ethel's eyes widened, a genuine flicker of fear in their depths. "Flying? As in, up in the air? On that… that massive beast?" She gestured towards Wick, who had settled majestically in the clearing, her scales glinting in the afternoon sun. "Dearie, I haven't flown on anything but a broomstick in a hundred years, and even then, it was mostly just to get over particularly thorny bushes!"
Echo chuckled, his blue hair sparkling with amusement. "Don't worry, Granny Ethel, Wick is very gentle. And you'll be perfectly safe. Think of it as a grand tour of your new home!" He helped the old hag onto Wick's back, carefully positioning her between two of Wick's large, sturdy spines, ensuring she had a firm grip on his robes. Shimmer, sensing a new adventure, zipped excitedly around them, while Sniffles peered cautiously from Echo's pocket.
With a powerful beat of her wings, Wick rose into the air, the wind rushing past them. Ethel gasped, clutching Echo's robes tightly, her eyes squeezed shut. "Oh, my stars and garters!" she shrieked, her voice thin in the wind. "This is much faster than a broomstick!"
Echo laughed, his voice ringing with exhilaration. "Just open your eyes, Granny Ethel!"
Slowly, hesitantly, Ethel opened one eye, then the other. Below them, the Forbidden Forest unfolded like a magnificent, emerald carpet, stretching for miles in every direction. The ancient and gnarled trees formed a dense canopy, broken only by winding rivers and the occasional glimmer of sunlight on a hidden pond. In the distance, the majestic spires of Hogwarts Castle rose, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun.
A gasp of genuine awe escaped her lips. "It's… It's beautiful," she whispered, her fear momentarily forgotten. "I've never seen it like this before."
Echo smiled, a warm, contented feeling spreading through him. His blue hair shimmered with quiet joy. "Welcome home, Granny Ethel." He spent the next hour soaring over the Forbidden Forest, pointing out various landmarks, explaining the different magical creatures that resided there, and patiently answering all of Ethel's awestruck questions. He showed her the highest peaks of the ancient trees, the hidden glades where unicorns sometimes gathered, and the winding paths that led deeper into the forest's heart.
Finally, as twilight began to deepen, he brought Wick down to a secluded, ancient-looking clearing, nestled beside a babbling brook. The air here was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, and tiny, glowing flora illuminated the forest floor.
"This looks like a good spot," Echo said, helping Ethel dismount. "It's far enough from the main paths to be undisturbed, but still close enough to the magic of the castle."
Ethel looked around, her eyes wide with wonder. "It's perfect, dearie. Absolutely perfect." She took a deep breath, the ancient magic of the forest seeming to seep into her very bones. "Thank you, Echo. Truly. You've given an old hag a new beginning."
Echo smiled, a genuine warmth in his blue eyes. "You're very welcome, Granny Ethel. And remember, if you ever need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me." He then turned to Wick, ready to take off into the sky and leave.
"Wait, little one," Ethel called out, her voice softening. "Before you go, there is something I wish to give you. A gift, in return for your kindness."
Echo turned back, his blue hair flickering with curiosity. "You don't have to, Granny Ethel. It was just a good deed."
Ethel merely smiled, a knowing glint in her ancient eyes. "Perhaps. But a gift is freely given, not a payment demanded. Come closer, dearie."
Echo, intrigued, stepped closer. Ethel reached out a gnarled hand and gently touched his forehead. A faint, earthy green glow emanated from her fingers, seeping into his skin. Echo felt a strange sensation, a subtle shift within him, as if a new pathway was opening, a deeper connection to the living world. His blue hair pulsed with a soft, vibrant green, mirroring the magic.
"What… what was that, Granny Ethel?" he asked, his voice a little breathless.
Ethel's smile widened, revealing surprisingly white teeth. "A hag's blessing, little one. A gift of foresight, of intuition. You will now have a clearer sense of the natural world, of its creatures, and the subtle currents of magic that flow through it. It will help you understand the unspoken and the hidden truths others miss. It will help you choose your path, without requiring…other means to help guide you." She paused, her eyes twinkling. "And perhaps, it will even help you distinguish between true danger and mere misunderstanding."
Echo stood there, stunned, his green hair now glowing steadily. He could feel it – a subtle enhancement to his Beast Magic, a deeper resonance with the forest around them. It was a profound and unexpected gift.
"Thank you, Granny Ethel," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. "Thank you so much."
"Now go, little one," Ethel said, shooing him gently. "Go and enjoy your summer. And do be careful with that magic of yours. It's a powerful thing, and the natural world, while forgiving, can also be quite… unpredictable."
Echo nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. He gave her one last smile, then turned to Wick and flew out of the clearing, his mind already buzzing with the implications of Ethel's gift. Shimmer clung to his back, and Sniffles, having grown brave, sat closer to Wick's neck. As he disappeared into the sky, a soft, contented sigh escaped Granny Ethel. She looked around her new home, the glowing flora, the babbling brook, and a faint, ancient hum of magic that resonated with her very soul. She was home. And for the first time in a very long time, she was not alone.