The familiar, reassuring tick-tock of the Transfiguration classroom clock usually brought a sense of order to Echo's chaotic life. But today, the sound only amplified his growing unease. He stood before Professor McGonagall's desk, his black hair a dull, almost lifeless grey, his gaze fixed on the intricate patterns of the polished wood. He had been summoned, and he knew exactly why. Minerva McGonagall, her spectacles perched on her nose, surveyed him with an unreadable expression. Her sharp eyes, usually glinting with a stern but fair amusement, were now clouded with concern. On the desk, neatly stacked, were several of Echo's recent assignments. The grades, stark red ink against pale parchment, spoke volumes.
"Mr. Echo," she began, her voice calm but firm, "I must say, your recent academic performance has become… troubling." She tapped a long finger on a particularly abysmal essay. "Your grades have been slipping, quite significantly, in nearly all your subjects."
Echo shrugged, trying for a casual air he didn't feel. His grey hair flickered with a faint, feigned nonchalance. "Oh, that? Yeah, that's just… the norm for me, Professor. You know, regular old Echo being bad at everything." He even managed a small, self-deprecating chuckle, hoping to defuse the situation.
But Minerva wasn't buying it. Her gaze sharpened, piercing through his flimsy facade. "Do not try to play this off, Mr. Echo," she said, her voice dropping a notch, the underlying concern more evident. "I assure you, this is far from 'normal.' Many of your other professors have voiced their concerns. They've noted a significant change in your demeanor and your work ethic."
Echo's shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly. He knew this was coming.
"They say," McGonagall continued, leaning forward slightly, her voice softer now, "that you used to be so much more engaged. You tried so hard, Mr. Echo. Even when you would fail, you gave it all you had. There was a spark, a fierce determination, that we all saw." She paused, her eyes searching his face. "We all know you had a difficult start to the year, a very difficult one. But it was apparent that things were finally turning around for you. So, I must ask, why drop it now?"
The carefully constructed walls Echo had built around himself began to crumble. The feigned nonchalance, the sarcastic humor – it all evaporated, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. His grey hair flickered erratically, a desperate, pained red bleeding into the strands. His hollow eyes, usually sparkling with mischief or defiance, now brimmed with unshed tears.
"I… I just want to be normal," he choked out, the words a raw, broken whisper. "I just want to be treated normally. Like another common face that walks these halls." He ran a trembling hand through his hair, now a frantic, fiery red. "I don't… I don't expect respect, Professor. Not anymore. But toleration… toleration would be enough. And no more whispers… that would be a bonus."
His voice cracked, thick with emotion. "People didn't hate me when I failed at everything. They just… ignored me. That was easy. Maybe," he said, looking up at her, his eyes glistening with tears, "maybe this'll bring that time back."
A single tear escaped, tracing a hot path down his cheek, followed by another, and then another. A quiet, heartbroken sob ripped through his small frame. He couldn't stand it anymore. With a desperate gasp, Echo turned and bolted, pushing past the desk, scrambling for the door.
"Echo! Mr. Echo, wait!" McGonagall called out, her voice sharp with alarm, pushing herself from her chair. But it was in vain. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving only the echoing silence and the faint, lingering scent of burnt parchment.
The hot summer air of the Transfiguration courtyard offered little comfort as Echo huddled in a dark, secluded corner, the stone walls offering a meager shield against the searing heat and his overwhelming despair. His quiet sobs echoed faintly in the vast space, each one a fresh wave of pain. His grey hair, still mournful, lay plastered to his tear-streaked face. Suddenly, a shadow fell over him. He looked up, his hollow eyes red and swollen, to see three Gryffindor students looming over him, their faces a mixture of disdain and smug satisfaction. They were older, probably third- or fourth-year students, and they immediately spread out, boxing him in.
"Go away," Echo mumbled, his voice hoarse, wiping furiously at his eyes. His grey hair flickered with a faint, resentful red. "I don't want any trouble."
"Trouble always finds you, doesn't it, half-blood?" one of them sneered, a tall, lanky boy with an arrogant tilt to his chin.
"Just like in Charms class," the second, a shorter, stockier boy, chimed in. "Getting the highest score on the final exam after bribing Flitwick with that bottle that could hold Peeves for a bit."
"Sounds pretty show-off, but then again, he is a Slytherin, so that's probably the usual," the third, a girl with a sharp, pointed nose, added, crossing her arms.
Echo bristled, his red hair flaring indignantly. "It has nothing to do with houses, and I didn't bribe the Professor! I gave it to him for some peace of mind when the Bloody Baron was too busy chasing the Grey Lady to scare Peeves off."
"Sounds like an excuse to me," the lanky boy scoffed.
"Leave me alone," Echo said again, his voice trembling with fear and growing anger.
"Oh, we'll leave you alone," the stocky boy said, a cruel smile spreading across his face.
"Right after we teach you a lesson," the girl added, her eyes narrowing. "And you should know where Slytherins belong."
All three pulled out their wands, their faces set with malicious intent. Jets of light, though uncast, seemed to hum at the tips of their wands, ready to strike. Echo, his red hair flaring with desperate panic, didn't wait. He scrambled away from the wall, his small frame darting between their legs, before any spells could connect.
He dodged a stinging hex from the lanky boy, a swift Reducto from the stocky one, and a well-aimed Stupefy from the girl, all in quick succession. Echo scrambled backward, his red hair blazing with a desperate, frantic energy. "Leave me alone!" he yelled, his voice raw. "I don't want to fight! I just want to be alone!"
The lanky boy scoffed, advancing slowly. "Alone? You're already alone, aren't you? How much more alone do you want to be?"
The stocky one snickered. "Do you want to be in your own pocket dimension, away from this reality or something?"
The girl with the sharp nose grinned, a cruel glint in her eyes. "If that's the case, that would be great for the rest of us!"
With a synchronized shout, all three launched a volley of curses. Echo, his mind reeling from the earlier conversation with McGonagall and the relentless taunts, found himself on the defensive, his shield charms weak and faltering. He stumbled backward, a spell grazing his leg, sending a jolt of pain through him.
Sniffles, sensing Echo's distress, darted out from behind him, a small, furious blur. The Niffler, with surprising speed, attempted to scale the lanky boy's leg, aiming for his wand. But the boy, quicker than anticipated, kicked out, sending Sniffles tumbling back. Before the Niffler could recover, a whispered Stupefy from the stocky boy hit him squarely, and Sniffles crumpled to the ground, temporarily stunned, a faint snore escaping him.
Meanwhile, Shimmer, with a furious chitter, materialized directly on the girl's head, its tiny hands seizing handfuls of her hair and yanking with all its might. The girl shrieked in pain and surprise, several strands of her hair tearing free. She thrashed and clawed, but Shimmer, using its future sight, dodged her desperate attempts to dislodge it. However, the lanky boy, seeing his friend in distress, quickly cast a non-verbal Protego that shimmered around the girl's head, forcing Shimmer to retreat with a frustrated growl. The Demiguise, though still a formidable presence, found itself unable to break through the Gryffindors' combined defenses.
Echo, now completely overwhelmed and without the aid of his magical creatures, felt a cold despair wash over him. His red hair dulled to a defeated grey as a powerful binding curse wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides.
"You're nothing but a Slytherin," the lanky boy sneered, taking another step forward. "You deserve this, half-blood. You're just another future Dark Wizard, just like all of them."
But before any of them could cast their spells, a figure darted forward, placing himself squarely between Echo and the three Gryffindors. It was Frank, his face grim, his usually cheerful demeanor replaced by a fierce protectiveness.
"That's enough!" Frank said, his voice surprisingly firm, echoing in the courtyard. "Leave him alone."
The three Gryffindors stared at Frank, clearly taken aback. "Longbottom?" the lanky boy scoffed, a look of confusion on his face. "What are you doing? Step aside. This doesn't concern you."
"It concerns anyone who sees three people ganging up on one," Frank retorted, his shoulders squared. "I won't step aside if it means you're going to hurt him."
"He deserves it!" the stocky boy spat, his eyes narrowed. "He's a show-off, a cheat! And a Slytherin, at that!"
"He deserves none of this treatment," Frank countered, his voice rising. "And being a Slytherin doesn't make him your enemy. That kind of talk, that kind of hatred… that's what turns good people into Dark Wizards."
The girl with the sharp nose crossed her arms. "Why are you so insistent on protecting him, Longbottom? He's a menace!"
"Because he's my friend!" Frank declared, his gaze unwavering. "And even if he wasn't, it's the right thing to do!"
"Then you're also part of the problem!" the lanky boy snarled, raising his wand again. "And it's still three against one, Longbottom. That little half-blood is useless in a fight."
Before he could finish his sentence, a flash of red light streaked past Frank's ear and hit the lanky boy squarely in the chest. With a surprised grunt, he flew backward, landing in an ungraceful heap in the dusty courtyard, momentarily stunned.
Alice, her bright red hair blazing, stepped out from behind Frank, her wand still raised, a determined glint in her eyes. "You should learn to count better," she said, her voice sharp and clear, "because now it's two against two."
"Alice?" Frank stammered, his eyes wide with surprise, clearly not expecting her.
Echo stared, his red hair flickering to a confused blue. "Alice?" he echoed, equally bewildered.
The three Gryffindors, momentarily stunned by Alice's sudden appearance, quickly regained their composure. "Two against three now, Longbottom, Fortescue!" the lanky boy snarled, pushing himself up from the ground, his wand still raised.
"Doesn't matter," Alice declared, her voice firm, as she and Frank took up defensive positions in front of Echo. "You're still outnumbered when it comes to decency."
With a shout, the three Gryffindors launched another volley of curses. Frank and Alice, though skilled, found themselves on the defensive, parrying and dodging, their combined efforts barely holding off the relentless assault. Spells flew, colorful flashes of light illuminating the courtyard as the skirmish intensified.
Sniffles, having finally recovered from the Stupefy, shook his head, then, with a furious squeak, darted forward. He began frantically untying the shoelaces of the three Gryffindors, attempting to trip them up in the chaos. Meanwhile, Shimmer, unable to get close enough to attack through the barrage of spells physically materialized and dematerialized around Alice, using its future sight to subtly push or pull her out of the path of particularly dangerous curses, was a silent, invisible guardian.
Echo, still bound by the curse, saw his wand lying just out of reach on the ground. He lunged for it, but a swift Depulso from the sharp-nosed girl sent it skittering further away. That brief moment, however, left her open. Frank, with a powerful Expelliarmus, disarmed her, sending her wand flying, while Alice, seizing the opportunity, hit her with a non-verbal Petrificus Totalus, freezing her rigid.
This momentary advantage was enough. Sniffles, with surprising speed, scrambled across the ground, snatched Echo's wand, and darted back, thrusting it into Echo's bound hand just as the remaining two Gryffindors, enraged, began to push Frank and Alice back with renewed ferocity.
With his wand now in hand, Echo felt a surge of familiar magic, but his mind was still a chaotic whirl of emotions. Dueling was beyond him right now. Instead, he reached for something deeper, something primal. His black hair blazed with a fierce, untamed red as he tapped into his beast magic.
From the air above him, with a sound like tearing silk, a small, dodo-sized, bird-like, dragon-like creature materialized. It had large, intelligent eyes and tiny, hummingbird wings that beat at an incredible speed. This was Balloonie, the Wyvern.
Balloonie fluttered up, hovering just above Echo's head. Then, with a soft WHOOSH, it inflated its chest and wings, growing massive in size, its dodo-like body becoming as large as a small hippogriff. With a bellowing torrent of wind, it opened its beaked mouth. It let loose a powerful gust, blasting the two remaining Gryffindors off their feet and sending them flying backward, slamming into a far wall of the courtyard with a resounding THUD. They lay there, dazed and groaning, effectively out of the fight.
Their groans of pain quickly morphed into snarls of renewed anger as the two remaining Gryffindors pushed themselves to their feet, their eyes blazing with a vengeful fury. The lanky boy, rubbing his bruised back, staggered forward, his wand now aimed at Balloonie. "You… you overgrown pigeon!" he spat, clearly disoriented. "You'll pay for that!"
But his bravado died in his throat as Balloonie, sensing the continued threat, inflated further, its dodo-like body swelling to the size of a small dragon. Its hummingbird wings, now massive and powerful, beat the air with a thunderous WHUMP, sending gusts of wind rippling through the courtyard. The Wyvern let out a piercing, bird-like squawk that echoed off the stone walls, its large, intelligent eyes fixed on the three Gryffindors with an unwavering, predatory glint. The sight of the monstrous, feathered beast, its shadow suddenly eclipsing them, was enough. All three Gryffindors, their faces pale with pure terror, shrieked in unison and bolted, scrambling for the nearest exit – the heavy wooden door leading back into the castle.
They barreled towards it, convinced of their escape, but just as they reached the familiar archway, all three slammed head-first into the unyielding wood with a resounding THUD. The door, normally unlocked during the day, was firmly shut, sealed by an invisible force. Before they could even question what was happening, a low, guttural hiss echoed from one side of the corridor. , her red eyes gleaming with malevolent satisfaction, slunk into view, her fur bristling. From the opposite direction, Argus Filch, no longer holding his lantern or his dangling rusty keys, appeared. In his hand was a familiar, intricately carved wooden wand – a birthday gift from Echo – which he now pointed at the locked door. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer around the frame confirmed that one of the pre-enchanted locking spells had just been activated.
Filch, his face a mask of stern confusion, approached the petrified Gryffindors. "Just what exactly is going on here?!" he demanded, his voice raspy. His gaze swept over the chaotic scene of scattered wands and groaning students.
"This is none of your business, Filch!" the lanky boy spat, finally finding his voice, his eyes narrowed with defiance. "Just some stupid schoolyard scrap!"
"Indeed?" Filch rasped, his eyes gleaming with a particularly unpleasant satisfaction. "Troublemakers are precisely my business, you insolent whelps! And I saw, with my own two eyes, what you just did. Ganging up on a fellow student? Why, that's a prime target for a good, old-fashioned punishment, wouldn't you say? And since I caught you in the act, it's only fair that I get to choose the punishment, wouldn't you agree?"
The stocky boy snorted, crossing his arms. "Yeah, right. You say nothing. Like you have any real power. You're just some squib Dumbledore took in out of pity." The other two Gryffindors nodded in agreement, a smug look on their faces.
"If Argus Filch has no power," a new voice cut through the air, sharp and clear, making all three Gryffindors jump, "then what, pray tell, do I have?"
Minerva McGonagall stood in the archway, her face a mask of furious disapproval, her wand held firmly in her hand. Her eyes, usually a stern grey, now blazed with righteous anger. The three Gryffindors immediately began to stammer, their faces paling.
"P-Professor McGonagall! We… we were just…" the sharp-nosed girl began.
"Save it!" Minerva snapped, her voice cracking like a whip. "I saw enough. I watched three students gang up on one who was clearly minding his own business. I watched him try to de-escalate the situation, only to be forced to defend himself. And I watched as two brave Gryffindors had to step in to protect him from your thuggery! You are an insult to everything the house of Gryffindor stands for!"
The Gryffindors flinched.
"Twenty points will be taken from House Gryffindor, by each of you!" Minerva declared, her voice ringing with authority, "for attacking a fellow student without provocation." She then turned to Frank and Alice, her expression softening slightly. "Mr. Longbottom, Miss Fortescue, twenty points will be awarded to Gryffindor, from each of you, for your bravery in protecting a fellow student."
She then looked at Echo, who was still holding his wand. His red hair was slowly fading back to black, and Balloonie, now deflated to his dodo-like size, sat at his feet, chirping softly.
"Mr. Echo," Minerva continued, her voice less severe, "fifteen points will be awarded to Slytherin for not immediately engaging in combat, for attempting to de-escalate the situation, and for employing a non-lethal creature in self-defense."
Then, Minerva turned back to Filch, a knowing look on her face. "And as for these three," she said, gesturing to the still-stunned Gryffindors, "since you were the one to catch them in the act, Argus, you may choose the punishment."
A slow, malevolent smile spread across Filch's face, a glint of pure glee in his eyes. "Excellent, Professor. Excellent indeed." He turned to the three trembling Gryffindors. "You three will be spending the next month scrubbing every single trophy in the trophy room, by hand, without magic, with only my specially formulated, extra-gritty cleaning solution! And if I see so much as a smudge, you'll start all over again!"
The Gryffindors groaned in despair.
Minerva, however, raised a hand. "Before you begin your arduous task," she said, a hint of steel in her voice, "all three of you will be joining me in my office for a rather lengthy discussion about appropriate behavior and the true meaning of House unity." She then turned sharply and strode back towards the castle, her robes billowing behind her. The three Gryffindors, looking utterly defeated, slowly shuffled after her.
Before following them, Filch paused and gave Echo a small, almost imperceptible nod. Echo, a faint, genuine smile touching his lips, returned the gesture.
Alice then turned to Echo, her bright red hair falling around her shoulders, her eyes still blazing with a fierce protectiveness. "Echo," she began, her voice softening now that the immediate threat was gone. "How did you get Filch on your side? Normally, he'd be giving out punishments to all parties involved, wouldn't he?"
Echo shrugged, his black hair flickering with a casual yellow. "Oh, that? I just don't treat him like human trash, that's all. Turns out, people respond better to kindness than to being called a squib." He cast a pointed glance at the still-groaning Gryffindors.
Frank, however, wasn't interested in Filch. He turned to Alice, a puzzled frown on his face. "Never mind that, Alice. Why did you help me protect Echo? You told me not long ago that you didn't want me hanging around him anymore."
Alice flinched, her gaze falling to the ground, a wave of self-disappointment washing over her face. "I… I did say that, didn't I? And that's why I'm here. Originally, I just wanted to apologize to Echo. But then… all that happened." She gestured vaguely at the lingering chaos in the courtyard. "I don't know what got into me to make me say that to you, Frank. Maybe the peer pressure? Or… or your ultimatum."
Echo, his black hair flickering with surprise, looked from Alice to Frank. "Ultimatum? What ultimatum?"
Frank sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I told her that if she didn't stop talking about me not hanging out with you anymore, then I'd break up with her."
Echo let out a low whistle, his yellow hair blazing with genuine astonishment. "Wow. Now that's something that would make most people's heads spin."
Alice nodded, a faint, almost rueful smile touching her lips. "It did. Because it apparently spun my head in the right direction. I don't know, it's not an excuse. That night you took us flying on Wick's back was more magical than anything the school could produce. I should've known what you were like after that, and getting us together on top of it." She looked up, her eyes meeting Echo's, filled with genuine regret. "So… I just wanted to say that I was sorry."
Echo's black hair softened to a warm, comforting yellow. He stepped forward, pulling Alice into a tight hug. "I forgive you, Alice," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "And thank you. For your words, and for helping. It… it means a lot, with so many people hating on me right now."