The heavy pronouncements of Professor Starlit hung over Echo like a shroud, a chilling premonition of a future devoid of peace. His grey hair remained dull, a tangible reflection of the despair that had settled deep within his soul. He drifted through the castle hallways, the usual boisterous energy of Hogwarts feeling distant and muted, as if he were observing it from behind a thick pane of glass. He entered the Great Hall for lunch, the cacophony of voices and clattering cutlery usually a comforting din. But today, it grated on his already raw nerves. He made his way to the Slytherin table, his steps heavy. For once, he didn't want to be at his separate table at the back of the Great Hall with all his friends. Today, he just wants to be around others and let their chatter be background noise. As he went to sit beside Severus, who was also sitting there today, a fourth-year boy, Theodore Nott, suddenly pushed his chair back, scraping it loudly across the stone floor, and stood up abruptly.
"Actually, Echo," Nott said, his voice laced with an unpleasant sneer, "we'd prefer if you sat somewhere else. Your… presence is quite distracting."
Echo blinked, his grey hair flickering with a confused, hurt pink. "Distracting?" he mumbled, utterly bewildered. "But… I just got here."
"Yes, and we'd prefer you didn't," a second-year girl, Pansy Parkinson, added, her eyes narrowed in disdain. "Some of us are trying to enjoy our meal without… that." She gestured vaguely at him with a fork.
Echo's stomach clenched. He looked at Severus, who merely gave him a slight, almost imperceptible shake of his head, a silent warning not to engage. He backed away slowly, his face flushing with embarrassment, and found an empty spot at the very end of the table, far from anyone else. Even there, he felt eyes on him, cold and disapproving.
Later, in the library, attempting to lose himself in a book on ancient magical creatures, he was met with similar hostility. He approached a table where Hannah Abbott, a usually amiable Hufflepuff, was studying. "Excuse me, Hannah," Echo communicated, his voice soft, "would you mind if I shared this table? All the others are full."
Hannah, without looking up from her scroll, replied in a clipped, cold tone, "I'd rather you didn't. I find I can concentrate better without… interruptions." Her voice carried a distinct air of dismissal.
Echo flinched. He retreated, finding a quiet corner far from everyone, the words echoing in his mind. Interruptions. Was he really that much of a nuisance?
The pattern continued throughout the afternoon. In the bustling corridors, students would actively step away as he approached, creating an awkward, silent void around him. In the common room, conversations would suddenly halt, only to resume in hushed whispers once he had passed. Even Professor Bloom, usually so kind and gentle, gave him a curt nod in the Herbology greenhouses, her usual warm smile absent, her eyes holding a strange, almost reproachful glint.
By the time evening rolled around, Echo was a shell of himself. His grey hair was dull and lifeless, his shoulders slumped, and his violet eyes, now hollow, were red-rimmed and brimming with unshed tears. He sat by the large clock under the stairs, curled up, trying to make himself as small and invisible as possible, pressing his face into his hands and knees.
It wasn't long before he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Echo? What's wrong?" Lily's voice, soft and filled with concern, drifted into his ears.
He flinched, pulling away slightly. "Go away, Lily," he mumbled, his voice thick with tears. "I just… I just want to be alone."
Lily, however, did not move. Instead, she knelt beside him, her hand gently stroking his dull hair. "No. Tell me. Is it those three girls again? Penelope, Helga, Susan? Did they do something else to you?" Her voice had an edge of barely suppressed fury.
Echo shook his head, burying his face deeper into his knees. "No," he choked out, "it's… It's worse."
Lily's brow furrowed. "Worse? What could be worse than what they did to you and your scores?"
Echo finally lifted his head, his face streaked with tears, his hollow eyes wide and filled with an unbearable pain. "Everyone, Lily," he sobbed. "Everyone is being so mean to me. The whole school. They're all… cold, callous, and rude. They don't want me near them. They look at me like… like I'm dirt. And I don't know why!" He buried his face in his hands again, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks. "The day isn't even over, and it's already getting to me. I can't… I can't take it anymore."
Severus, who had been following Lily nearby, observed the scene with a grim expression and finally spoke. "Did you do anything, Echo? Any pranks with Peeves? Any… accidents in class? Anything at all that might have provoked this?"
Echo shook his head vehemently. "No! Nothing! I promise! No pranks, no accidental magic that blew up, no summoning random creatures. I just… I just tried to talk to people, ask normal questions, and sit at a table. Socially acceptable things! But everyone just… they just turned away, or said awful things, or acted like I was contagious!"
Lily's jaw tightened, her emerald eyes flashing with a dangerous glint. But Svereus stopped her, knowing exactly what she was thinking. "No, Lily!" Severus interrupted, his voice firm. "You can't punish the entire school. You wouldn't even know where to start."
Lily sighed, running a hand through her fiery red hair. "You're right," she admitted, her voice laced with frustration. "But we can't just let this stand. We have to figure out why the entire school has suddenly turned against Echo, and not just the usual distant glares, whispers, and ignoring his presence, which, frankly, shouldn't even be the norm for him."
Just then, Amos Diggory, who had quietly joined them, cleared his throat. He looked uncomfortable, his gaze shifting between Echo and the other two. "I… I might know why," he said, his voice hesitant.
All three turned to him. "What is it, Amos?" Lily asked, her voice sharp with anticipation.
Amos wrung his hands. "There's… there's a rumor going around. It started this morning, apparently. That Echo… that he thinks he's somehow better than everyone else. That he's been keeping all his accomplishments to himself, not out of modesty, but as some kind of… backwards gloating. Like he's deliberately letting everyone else flounder while he secretly revels in his own superiority."
Echo gasped, his grey hair flaring a horrified pink. "What? No! That's not true!"
"It gets worse," Amos continued, his voice heavy with regret. "They're citing all your recent accomplishments. Your top scores are in Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, and Magical History. Saying you're kissing up to teachers and trying to play nice with Filch to break the rules more often…even your betrothal to Skate. They're saying you're acting like you're above everyone else because you're engaged to a merfolk princess and suddenly a top student."
Frank Longbottom, who had also joined the group, looked utterly miserable. "Even Alice," he mumbled, referring to his girlfriend. "She… she told me to stay away from you, Echo. Said you were becoming arrogant and insufferable. I had to give her an ultimatum; it was so ridiculous."
Echo stared at them, his hollow eyes wide with unspeakable pain. "But I'm not doing any of that!" he choked out, fresh tears streaming down his face. "I'm not! I just… I just want to be normal! I just want to be left alone sometimes, without having to fight for every scrap of peace! I would never… I would never think I'm better than anyone! And im not playing nice with Flich, I just wanted to be nice to the poor man." He buried his face in his hands once more, his body wracked with deep, gut-wrenching sobs. "It's not fair! It's not fair at all!"
Lily knelt beside him again, her eyes blazing with a fierce, protective fire. "I know, Echo," she whispered, pulling him into a tight embrace. "I know you wouldn't. This is… this is a misunderstanding. A terrible, cruel misunderstanding." She rocked him gently, her hand stroking his hair, now a mottled grey and pink. "We'll fix it, Echo. I promise. We'll find out who started this, and we'll clear your name."
Severus, for his part, looked uncharacteristically distraught. He stared at Echo, his usual sneer replaced by a look of genuine concern. "This… this is a new low, even for Hogwarts students," he muttered, his voice unusually soft. "To twist genuine accomplishment into arrogance… It's despicable."
Amos nodded grimly. "It's the kind of thing that spreads like wildfire, too. Especially when people are looking for an excuse to tear someone down."
Frank, clenching his fists, added, "And it's not like the teachers are going to step in. They'll just see it as 'student drama.'"
Lily pulled back, her eyes hard. "Then we'll have to take matters into our own hands. We need to find out who started this rumor, and then we need to prove it's false." She looked at the boys, a determined glint in her emerald eyes. "And we need to do it without making Echo feel even worse."
Severus sighed, but there was a flicker of resolve in his gaze. "Very well. I will monitor the Slytherins. They are often the source of such… malicious gossip."
Amos nodded. "I'll talk to some of the Hufflepuffs. Maybe someone heard something. And "I'll see if I can discreetly ask around among the older students. They usually have a better grasp of the rumor mill."
"I'll ask around to see who started the rumor, and maybe we can get to the bottom of this," Frank said with a curt nod.
Lily looked at Echo, who was slowly lifting his head. His eyes were still red, but with a spark of something almost hopeful. "And you, Echo," she said gently, "need to try and get some rest. Let us handle this. You've been through enough."
Echo managed a weak nod, a small, grateful sniffle escaping him. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "All of you. Thank you."
Echo slowly shook his head, a weary sigh escaping him. His grey hair, though still dull, flickered with a faint purple of deep thought. "I'm thankful, truly," he rasped, his voice still a little raw, "but… I've been thinking about this all day. And I… I think I already know who started it."
Lily, Severus, Frank, and Amos exchanged surprised glances. "Who, Echo?" Lily asked, her voice hushed with anticipation.
Echo looked up, his hollow eyes meeting theirs, and the single word that left his lips was heavy with a mix of certainty and resignation: "Lucius."
Frank and Amos exchanged bewildered looks. "Lucius Malfoy?" Frank exclaimed, his brow furrowed. But… why him? He's a seventh-year, a Slytherin. He barely acknowledges your existence, Echo. He ignores you just as much as everyone else, even in his own house, despite how clicky Slytherins are. Why would he bother starting rumors about you?"
Amos nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it doesn't make sense. It seems like he couldn't care less about what you do, as long as it doesn't directly interfere with him."
But Lily and Severus didn't share their confusion. A quiet, knowing look passed between them. Lily's eyes narrowed slightly, and she exchanged a quick, almost imperceptible glance with Severus. They leaned closer, whispering to each other, their voices too low for Frank and Amos to catch, who were still racking their brains for a plausible motive for Lucius.
"It has to be the Dark Lord's plan," Lily murmured, her gaze flicking towards Echo, who was now staring blankly into space. "To isolate him. To make him feel utterly alone."
Severus nodded grimly. "A calculated move. Break his spirit by taking away his support system, making him question everything he believes about himself and his place here. Drive him to the Dark Lord's side."
"But without proof that Lucius started this," Lily whispered, her voice laced with frustration, "we're essentially working off guesses to the higher authority figures. They'll never believe us."
Echo, his face still pale but now etched with a grim determination, slowly pushed himself to his feet. His grey hair flickered with a surge of renewed purpose, a determined purple beginning to seep into its dull strands. He walked directly to Severus, his hollow eyes burning with a focused intensity. Before anyone could react, he grabbed Severus's arm, his grip surprisingly strong, and pulled him away from the bewildered group.
"Echo, what are you doing?" Severus demanded, stumbling slightly as Echo dragged him along, his voice a low hiss. He tried to pull his arm free, but Echo held fast, his eyes fixed on some unseen point in the distance. "Where are we going?"
Echo didn't slow his pace, his voice tight with resolve. "We're going to get all my spy creatures, Sev," he stated, his purple hair now blazing with fierce conviction. "And we're going to check their memories. If there's anything on Lucius, anything at all, we're adding it to the Pensieve. Every last bit."
He pulled Severus, who was still trying to protest, down the bustling corridor and towards the familiar, echoing halls of the dungeons.
The next morning, the Charms classroom buzzed with the usual pre-class chatter. Professor Flitwick, perched atop his stack of books, was meticulously organizing a new set of quills. The door opened and Lucius Malfoy, a picture of refined arrogance, strode in, his silver-blonde hair gleaming under the enchanted ceiling. He approached Flitwick's desk with a polite, almost deferential expression on his face.
"Professor Flitwick," Lucius began, his voice smooth and cultivated. "May I have a moment of your time, sir?"
Flitwick looked up, his bright eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy. I do have a moment, yes. Though if this is about re-entering the dueling club, I'm afraid my answer remains unchanged."
Lucius offered a small, practiced smile. "No, Professor, it is not about that. I have, of course, accepted your decision on that matter." He paused, allowing a suitable moment of earnest reflection. "No, this is about… credit, Professor."
Flitwick raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Credit, Mr. Malfoy? Please elaborate."
Lucius nodded, his gaze sweeping subtly across the classroom, as if taking in the array of young, aspiring wizards. "Well, Professor, it has come to my attention that many students, particularly the younger ones, often have their genuine achievements overshadowed or even entirely forgotten. They are not properly credited for their accomplishments, nor are they given the recognition they deserve, whether it be house points during the term or even at the end-of-year feast." He sighed, a touch of practiced melancholy in his tone. "Oh, to be sure, etiquette, spell craft, answering questions, and top marks are all well and good, and they receive ample praise. But they often overshadow the real achievements, the innovative solutions, the quiet acts of resilience, the moments of true magical ingenuity that don't fit neatly into a grading rubric."
He continued, "Even older students, such as myself, receive a great deal of recognition for our actions and accomplishments, and rightly so. However, many younger students do not receive the same treatment. I believe it is important that no student, regardless of their age or initial aptitude, should be left behind or feel unappreciated, even if they are still in school or just starting off."
Professor Flitwick listened intently, his expression thoughtful. "A noble sentiment, Mr. Malfoy. Do you, perhaps, have anyone in particular you would like to bring to my attention?"
Lucius shook his head with a subtle, practiced humility. "No, Professor, not directly. However, you are an incredibly observant wizard. Surely you've noticed at least one or two such students in your time, students whose unique contributions or unexpected triumphs might have gone unnoticed by the wider school body. Perhaps their achievements should be brought up at the end-of-year feast, as a pleasant surprise?"
Flitwick's eyes twinkled again, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "I may indeed know of one particular student, Mr. Malfoy. And rest assured, I shall keep your words in the back of my mind going forward."
"Thank you, Professor," Lucius said, a genuine (though entirely feigned) warmth in his voice. He bowed slightly and turned, making his way out of the classroom. Once safely in the corridor, out of Flitwick's sight, a slow, wicked smile spread across his face. The ruse had worked perfectly. He had manipulated the diminutive Charms Master with such effortless ease, without a single shred of suspicion being raised. Excellent.