The stone corridors of Hogwarts seemed to stretch endlessly as Echo made his way towards the Potions classroom, the weight of Peter's frantic revelations pressing heavily on him. His black hair, a calm yet resolute dark blue, reflected the seriousness of his purpose. In one arm, he cradled the ginger Kneazle, which purred softly, occasionally nudging its head against his chin. Shrink, still in its iridescent, serpentine form, was coiled discreetly around his other arm, its scales shimmering faintly under his robes. He pushed open the heavy oak door to the Potions classroom, the familiar scent of bubbling cauldrons and pungent ingredients immediately assaulting his senses. Severus Snape, his black hair falling across his face, was hunched over a simmering cauldron at the front of the room, meticulously stirring a viscous, purple liquid. The rest of the classroom was empty, save for the occasional hiss and pop from the various concoctions.
"Severus," Echo said, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the room.
Snape didn't look up immediately, his concentration unbroken. "Echo. What is it? As you can see, I'm rather busy." His voice was a low, dismissive drawl.
"I have some new evidence for the Pensieve," Echo continued, holding up the Kneazle slightly. "And I brought the Kneazle and Shrink so that you can transfer the memories directly. It's pretty urgent."
Snape finally stirred, pushing a stray lock of hair from his face. "Hold on. I'm almost finished with this. It's a rather delicate process, and I cannot afford any distractions." He stirred the purple potion once more, his brow furrowed in intense focus.
Echo's blue hair flickered with impatience. "I also need to speak with you about something important. Something… vital."
Snape let out an exasperated sigh, still not meeting Echo's gaze. "I said, wait, Echo. This potion will spoil if I don't complete it in the next few minutes."
Echo's eyes, usually hollow and unreadable, narrowed slightly. He glanced at the potion, then at a shelf filled with various vials. Without another word, he reached for a small, clear bottle containing a colorless liquid. With a swift, almost imperceptible movement, he uncorked it and poured a few drops into Snape's simmering cauldron.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Snape roared, abandoning his stirring spoon and lunging forward, his face contorted with fury. "YOU FOOL! YOU'VE RUINED IT!"
Echo merely held up a placating hand, his blue hair flickering with a confident, almost mischievous yellow. "Relax, Severus. I added a temporary base. It'll hold the potion's current state for about an hour. It'll revert to normal when the effect wears off. Gives us plenty of time to talk."
Snape stared at the cauldron, which now sat motionless, its purple surface oddly inert. He then looked at Echo, his eyes blazing with a mixture of outrage and grudging respect. "You… you ingenious, infuriating brat! How in Merlin's name did you even come up with that?"
Echo merely shrugged, his yellow hair softening to a thoughtful blue. "Improvisation. Now, can we talk?"
Snape stalked over to a cabinet, pulling out a stone basin engraved with runes – the Pensieve. "Fine," he grumbled, though a flicker of curiosity was evident in his dark eyes. "Let's get this over with. Transfer the memories, and then we'll discuss whatever 'vital' information you've stumbled upon."
Echo stopped him, a hand on Snape's arm. "No. Before we do that, we have to talk. Right now." His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. The Kneazle in his arms looked up at him, its intelligent eyes mirroring his intensity.
Echo then recounted Peter's overheard conversation, the words tumbling out quickly: Lucius Malfoy, the Dark Lord, the plan to isolate and exploit Echo's beast magic, and, most damningly, the mention of Snape's supposed involvement. He watched Severus's face intently, searching for any telltale signs.
"So," Echo finished, his blue hair darkening to a challenging indigo, "are you somehow a part of whatever this Dark Lord person and Lucius are doing? Because if you are, I need to know, and I need to know now."
Severus scoffed, turning away to retrieve a crystal vial for the memories. "Don't be ridiculous, Echo. You shouldn't listen to everything that insipid little Pettigrew tells you. He's a troublemaker, easily swayed, and prone to histrionics. For all we know, he's making it up for attention."
"He wasn't noticed, Severus," Echo countered, his voice sharp. "He was in Animagus form, a rat, hiding on a sconce. Lucius didn't know he was there. This wasn't something said to get him off their scent. He heard it all. Including your name."
Snape paused, his back still to Echo, his shoulders stiff. "Even if he did, Peter has a vivid imagination. He could have misinterpreted something or added details for dramatic effect. You know how he is."
Echo took a step closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. His indigo hair blazed with a cold, unwavering determination. "Cut the crap, Severus. Just tell me. Are you involved with them? Because if you are, if you're working with them, then our trust… everything we've built, however grudging it might be… it shatters. Irreparably. And you know, as well as I do, that having me as an enemy is far worse than dealing with the Marauders and all their pathetic pranks and humiliations."
Snape finally turned, his face a mask of carefully controlled emotion. "It's not as simple as you think, Echo. You're still a child."
Echo let out a humorless laugh. "A child? You're barely a teenager yourself, Severus. Don't you dare pull that on me."
Severus's eyes narrowed, but a flicker of something akin to resignation crossed his features. He took a deep breath. "Yes," he said, his voice low, "I am involved."
Echo's blue hair flared with a shocked, furious red. He opened his mouth to retort, but Snape held up a hand, a rare gesture of appeal.
"But not in the way you think," Severus continued, his voice softer now. "I'm a double agent. I'm working for the Dark Lord, yes. But only to play both sides."
Echo stared, his red hair slowly fading to a bewildered pink. "Double agent? You're… what? Which side of the line are you on, Severus?"
Snape's gaze hardened, a grim determination in his eyes. "The one Dumbledore asked me to be on."
Echo's jaw dropped. His pink hair flashed a shocked, vibrant yellow. "Dumbledore? He asked you to do this?"
Severus nodded, a bitter twist to his lips. "He did. Though I have my own priorities and my own reasons for doing this, beyond Dumbledore's directives."
"How far in are you?" Echo asked, his voice barely a whisper, a strange mix of horror and grudging admiration.
Severus deliberately pushed up the sleeve of his left robe. There, stark against his pale skin, was a dark, serpentine mark, subtly pulsing with an inner malice—the Dark Mark.
Echo recoiled slightly, his yellow hair draining to a pale, horrified white. "What… what is that?"
"It's my mark of acceptance," Severus said, his voice flat. "I'm already working in their inner circle. Collecting what I can."
Echo shook his head, a ghost of a smile touching his lips, tinged with disbelief. His white hair flickered back to a resigned blue. "You have a lot of nerve, Severus. Always calling me reckless."
Severus met his gaze, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touching his lips. "Then we are equal, Echo. But trust me," he added, his voice low and intense, "I'm on your side. Always have been. Always will be."
Echo held his gaze, a profound sense of understanding passing between them. "Alright, Severus," he said, his blue hair settling into a determined indigo. "I believe you. Now, let's get those memories into the Pensieve. We have a lot of work to do."
Echo and Severus stood over the Pensieve, its shimmering surface swirling with silvery thoughts. The soft glow illuminated their faces, one etched with concentration, the other with a familiar, almost reluctant intensity.
"Ready?" Severus drawled, his voice low.
Echo nodded, his black hair a focused indigo. He placed both his companions on the table and told them to hold still. With a soft pollop, Shrink slithered onto the table, its iridescent scales and feathers gleaming. The Kneazle sat on the table and stared up at him, its intelligent eyes blinking in the dim light of the dungeon.
Echo took a deep breath, his wand touching his temple. He connected the thread to both animals' heads, forming the memory connection. After this, he touched his wand to his temple again, and a silvery strand, thick with memories of the creatures, began to extract itself from his mind. He carefully guided it towards the Pensieve, his brow furrowed with effort.
"Steady, Echo," Severus murmured, holding his wand aloft, a faint, stabilizing charm emanating from its tip. He watched, his dark eyes narrowed, as the memory flowed into the basin, mingling with the existing thoughts. "Don't let your connection waver. The integrity of the memory is paramount."
Echo grunted, the effort palpable. He connected his mind to Shrink, feeling the Occamy's vibrant energy and playful curiosity, and then to the Kneazle, sensing its keen awareness and quiet loyalty. He drew out the essence of their memories regarding Lucius and, gently, with Severus's subtle guidance, transferred them into the Pensieve. The silvery mass swirled, deepening in color, now holding the vivid imprints of both creatures.
Finally, with a soft sigh, Echo withdrew his wand. The silvery strand snapped back into his head, leaving him feeling slightly drained but accomplished. His indigo hair softened to a contented blue.
"Done," he said, a faint smile touching his lips.
Severus nodded, a flicker of something akin to approval in his eyes. He waved his wand, and the Pensieve, along with its precious contents, shimmered and vanished, presumably back to its hidden location.
Echo turned to the Kneazle. "Alright, you. Back to your patrol. Keep an eye out for anything… unusual." The Kneazle purred, rubbing against his leg before disappearing with a silent bound. He then looked at Shrink. "And you, little one, back to the vivarium. Don't cause too much trouble." Shrink chirped as Echo waved his wand and sent her back to the vivarium. Before leaving, Echo turned to Severus, his blue hair settling into a thoughtful black. "Severus," he began, his voice softer than usual, "even though you're a part of this crazy conspiracy, I know you didn't do it by choice, just like me. I hope whatever reasons you have for putting yourself willingly into the line of fire are worth it. For whatever it's worth to you, Severus, I consider you a good friend."
Severus said nothing, his expression unreadable, but Echo saw a faint tremor run up his body, a subtle ripple beneath the smooth black of his robes.
Echo left the dungeon, the lingering silence a stark contrast to the chaos of his morning. As he approached the Potions classroom, he saw a figure slumped against the wall, head bowed. It was Peter Pettigrew. Echo nearly jumped, startled by his unexpected presence.
"Peter?" Echo asked, his voice laced with surprise. "What are you doing here?"
Peter didn't react immediately. He looked distant, hollow, like Echo himself after a Dementor's Kiss. His eyes were wide and unfocused, staring at nothing.
Echo waved a hand in front of Peter's face, then snapped his fingers. "Peter? Are you still there?"
After a long delay, Peter finally blinked, his gaze slowly focusing on Echo. "The… the rats," he mumbled, his voice a reedy whisper. "They're… they're everywhere. And they're singing."
Echo's blue hair flickered with concern. "Singing rats? Peter, that's… unusual." He placed a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Come on, I'm taking you to Madam Pomfrey," all without seeing the little flickers of green that gleamed across his eyes.