The early morning light dappled through the dense canopy of the Forbidden Forest, painting shifting patterns on the forest floor. Echo, perched on Wick's massive back, remained hidden just within the treeline, his eyes, still red-rimmed and heavy, fixed on the distant Hogwarts Express. His black hair, a stoic testament to his inner resolve, barely stirred in the gentle breeze. He watched as students, a colorful stream of excited chatter and last-minute goodbyes, boarded the scarlet train. He didn't want to be seen, not now. If he were to be alone, he would do it on his own terms, away from their pitying glances and disdainful whispers. He would not be shamed further.
Hours crawled by, each departing whistle a small victory, each shrinking train car a step closer to solitude. Finally, the last plume of smoke billowed from the engine, and the Hogwarts Express, a tiny red snake, vanished around a distant bend. The castle grounds, once teeming with life, now lay quiet and empty. A heavy silence descended, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the distant calls of forest creatures.
"Alright, Wick," Echo murmured, his voice hoarse, "Let's go."
Wick, sensing his somber mood, descended with gentle grace, landing softly at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, closest to the castle. They walked in silence, the dragon's large paws making barely a sound on the soft earth. Echo dismounted, giving Wick a pat on her snout before allowing her to fly back to her cave.
He entered the castle through a seldom-used side entrance, his steps echoing eerily in the deserted corridors. The thought of the Slytherin common room, even empty, brought a fresh wave of resentment. No, he wouldn't go there. He just wanted to be surrounded by his creatures, the only beings who wouldn't abandon him. The Room of Requirement. That was it. He could cry and mope there in peace.
He made his way through the deserted corridors, the silence amplifying the frantic beat of his heart. The Room of Requirement felt like his only refuge, a place where he could finally unravel the chaotic mess of his emotions. But as he walked, a new thought, cold and sharp, began to cut through the haze of his despair. Why? Why was all of this happening to him? Why did everyone hate him? Why had his friends abandoned him? Was he truly the monster Severus had called him?
He stopped, his invisible form hovering in the middle of a deserted hallway, his black hair flickering with a confused blue. He replayed every insult, every betrayal, every moment that had led him to this desolate point. The whispers, the stares, the isolation… it all started with one person—one venomous, manipulative, self-serving person who seemed to delight in making his life a living hell.
Lucius Malfoy.
The name echoed in his mind, and with it, a blinding flash of realization. It was him. It was always him. Echo's black hair flared a furious, incandescent red, pushing through the calm blue. His blood, which had felt like ice in his veins, now boiled with a rage so potent it threatened to consume him whole. Lucius Malfoy. He was the one who had started the rumors in his first year, the one who had subtly, insidiously, poisoned the well of his reputation. He was the one who had put him in impossible situations, orchestrated events to make him look bad, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Even the Dementor's Kiss, though indirectly, had been a consequence of Malfoy's actions, a desperate measure to secure a perceived victory. And this last stunt, this forged letter to Flitwick, was undoubtedly his handiwork as well, a final, cruel twist of the knife designed to shatter any remaining friendships Echo possessed.
It all made sense now. The carefully planted whispers, the subtle manipulations, the way events always seemed to conspire against him when Lucius was involved. Even if Lucius was merely acting under the orders of the Dark Lord, he was still the one who pulled the strings and took pleasure in the execution of those orders. Echo wanted nothing more than to rip him apart, to make him pay for every single instance of malice and cruelty. But it was too late for that. Lucius was a seventh-year student. This year was his last. He would be gone in a matter of hours, free to continue his dark machinations outside the protective walls of Hogwarts.
A chilling calm settled over Echo, a dangerous resolve replacing his despair. No. It wasn't too late. Not at all. For the last several months, he and his group of friends—and yes, even his begrudging allies like Severus—had been collecting evidence. Memories taken from the magical creatures Echo used to spy on Lucius, testimony, and even memories extracted from his friends, all carefully stored. All of it was meticulously gathered in one secret source: the Pensieve that he and Severus had made together.
He had planned to wait, to gather as much undeniable proof as possible, to choose the perfect moment to strike when it would hurt Lucius the most, when his reputation would be irrevocably shattered. He had even been willing to continue spying on him with his creatures after Lucius's graduation, to ensure no stone was left unturned.
But now it was different. Now, he wasn't waiting. The time for patience was over.
He would get the Pensieve. He would get Dumbledore to call the Ministry. He would show the Aurors everything he had collected, all the undeniable proof of Lucius Malfoy's dark dealings and insidious manipulations. Lucius would finally pay for his crimes. With a new, fierce determination, Echo marched, his invisible form moving with a purpose that had been absent moments before. He knew exactly where the Pensieve was. He navigated the labyrinthine corridors with practiced ease, his destination the Potions classroom, the place he and Severus had chosen for their clandestine storage. He reached the door, pushed it open, and slipped inside, the familiar scent of old potions and forgotten experiments filling the air.
He went directly to the secret space behind a loose brick in the wall, a space concealed by a complex charm he and Severus had devised. With a whispered password, the brick slid inward, revealing a small, dark recess. Echo reached inside, his fingers brushing against empty air. He fumbled, searching frantically, his heart beginning to pound a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
The Pensieve was gone.
A cold, sickening dread washed over him, far more intense than any loneliness he had felt moments before. Panic, raw and unbridled, seized him. With a desperate cry, Echo used his magic, his hair flaring a violent, agitated purple, and all but turned the Potions room upside down, searching for the missing Pensieve in a furious, desperate frenzy of fear and stress.
He ripped open cabinets, overturned cauldrons, and even blasted a hole in the far wall with a wild, uncontrolled burst of magic, his purple hair blazing like a demonic crown. But the Pensieve was nowhere to be found. It was gone. All of it. All the proof, all the evidence, all the months of careful, clandestine work—vanished.
He sank to his knees amidst the wreckage, his chest heaving, the air sucked from his lungs by the sheer, overwhelming force of this new betrayal. The rage that had fueled him moments before now dissolved into a profound, crushing despair. It wasn't just the Pensieve that was gone; it was his hope. His chance at justice. His way of fighting back. His purple hair slowly faded to a dull, lifeless grey, mirroring the ashes of his shattered plans. His eyes, wide and unseeing, stared at the chaotic mess he had made of the Potions classroom. Who? he thought, a new, agonizing question piercing through his numbness. Who would have known? Who would have dared?
Just as the thought solidified, a flash of long, platinum blond hair and dark robes flowed just out of the classroom door, disappearing around the corner. Echo blinked, shaking his head. Was he seeing things? Was the stress finally getting to him? But then, a faint, sickly sweet scent wafted into the chaotic Potions classroom—the overly priced, cloying perfume Lucius Malfoy always wore. And then, distantly, echoing down the deserted corridor, he heard it: a low, self-satisfied chuckle.
Lucius. The real deal. He was here.
Echo didn't know why he was back at the school, and in that moment, he didn't care. The despair that had threatened to drown him was instantly replaced by a cold, burning fury. He was going to end that freak once and for all.
With a guttural roar, Echo snatched his wand from the floor, his black hair blazing a violent, unholy red. "Malfoy! Get back here, you coward!" he screamed, his voice raw with rage, and launched himself out of the classroom.
He ran, a wild, untamed animal pursuing its prey. He caught glimpses of flowing dark robes, a flash of platinum blond hair just as it vanished around a corner, always just out of reach. Lucius was fast, surprisingly so, his movements agile as he weaved through the deserted castle. Their frantic game of cat and mouse led them deeper and deeper into the castle, down winding staircases and through forgotten passages, until, with a final, taunting glimpse of Malfoy's retreating form, Echo found himself bursting out into the cool, twilight air of the Forbidden Forest.
The familiar scent of pine and damp earth filled his nostrils, and a grim smile, devoid of humor, touched Echo's lips. So, you want to play in my territory, Malfoy? Very well.
Here, in the dense, ancient woods, Echo was no longer at a disadvantage. His knowledge of the forest, honed by years of traversing its treacherous paths, became his greatest weapon. He moved with the silent grace of a predator, weaving between trees, his senses heightened, tracking the faint, lingering scent of Malfoy's perfume, listening for the barely perceptible rustle of robes. He used his invisibility charm, melting into the deepening shadows, becoming one with the forest.
Minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity, the chase a silent, deadly dance through the deepening gloom. And then, he saw him. Lucius was still running, with a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting Echo to be far behind still. With a burst of speed, Echo materialized directly in front of him, leaping from behind a thick oak tree, his wand raised, his red hair blazing like a demonic fire in the encroaching darkness.
Lucius yelped, stumbling backward, his face blanching as he stared at the furious boy who had seemingly appeared from thin air.
Echo savored the look of pure terror on Malfoy's face, a cold, dark satisfaction spreading through him. "Thought you could get away from me, did you, Malfoy?" Echo snarled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Or perhaps you thought you were too foxy, too clever, to be caught in your own little game?" He took a step closer, his wand still pointed directly at Lucius's chest. "You fool. The Forbidden Forest... It's my element."
Lucius, recovering his composure with a visible effort, sneered, his silver eyes glinting with a familiar arrogance. "My element? Don't flatter yourself, boy. This forest is full of creatures far more dangerous than you. And I assure you, none of them are interested in your little vendetta." He smirked, regaining a sliver of his usual composure. "Besides, what exactly do you think you can do? You have no proof. No one will believe a word you say. You're just a pathetic, friendless half-blood, despised by the entire school, while I am a Malfoy." He let out a short, derisive laugh. "Even if you could prove anything, which you can't, it would be your word against mine. And we both know whose word carries more weight in this world."
Echo's eyes narrowed, his red hair blazing hotter than ever. "You talk too much, Malfoy." His wand flicked, a sharp, angry movement. "Crucio!"
A bolt of sickly green light erupted from his wand, striking Lucius squarely in the chest. A guttural scream tore from Malfoy's throat as he was lifted off his feet, flung backward with sickening force, and slammed into the trunk of a massive oak tree. He slid to the ground, writhing, his body convulsing uncontrollably, the proud sneer replaced by a mask of pure agony.
The curse ended, leaving Lucius gasping for breath, his elegant robes torn and dirty, his platinum blond hair matted with sweat and fear. Echo stalked towards him, his steps slow and deliberate, his wand still raised and pointed at the crumpled figure.
"You are really pushing the boundaries of my mercy, Malfoy," Echo said, his voice low and dangerous, each word laced with venom. His red hair pulsed with a cold, contained fury. "The only reason I haven't ended your miserable life here and now is because I know there are fates far worse than death waiting for you in the living world." He leaned closer, his eyes glinting with a dark, almost malevolent amusement. "And the thought of that alone... it slightly amuses me more than your death."
"Now," Echo continued, his voice dangerously soft, "give me back the Pensieve, and maybe, just maybe, I'll let you keep that pretty face of yours."
Lucius coughed, still struggling for air, his eyes wide with a desperate fear. "Wait, Echo, please! You don't understand the full story!" he gasped, scrambling backward, pressing himself further against the tree. "What I was doing, I... I was trying to help! I was being forced to do all this, I didn't want to! Please, let me go, and we can figure out a way to take down the Dark Lord together!"
Echo stared at Lucius, his red hair flickering with a mixture of disbelief and contempt, as if the young man had just told him he had a second head. Then, in a grand and completely fake display of surprise, Echo's eyes widened dramatically, and his voice became sickeningly sweet. "Oh, my dear Lucius!" he cooed, a hand pressed to his chest. "I had no idea! All this time, you were suffering? Forced to commit all those cruelties? How absolutely dreadful for you! You must think I'm some kind of moron, don't you?" The sweetness in his voice abruptly vanished, replaced by a cold, hard edge. "Because I don't believe you for one second. You must really think I'm some airhead."
Lucius, still gasping, managed a weak, almost imperceptible nod. "I… I kinda did, yes."
Echo let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Well, thanks to you, Malfoy, I decided to smarten up after you tricked me into using the Unforgivables during my first year at Hogwarts."
"If you want to thank me," Lucius rasped, a sliver of his arrogance returning, "you can let me go."
Echo threw his head back and laughed, a sound devoid of any mirth. "Not on my best day, Malfoy. Now, give me the Pensieve."
Lucius began to retort, but two new voices, thick and guttural, cut him off.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't little Echo," a voice sneered.
"Look at him, trying to be a big man," the other added, laced with an even greater malice than the other.
Echo spun around, his red hair flaring even brighter, to see Crabbe and Goyle emerging from the shadows of the trees. Their hulking forms seemed to dwarf the already imposing trees around them. They both wore identical, cruel smirks, their eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction.
Echo's rage, already at a boiling point, now threatened to overflow. "Oh, look, Malfoy brought his house-elves with him," he scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt. "What, did you finally get tired of having no brains, so you brought some extra muscle that also has no brains? Get lost, you buffoons. This doesn't concern you."
Crabbe merely chuckled, a low, guttural sound that seemed to rumble through the forest floor. "Actually, it concerns us quite a bit, Echo."
Goyle stepped forward, his smirk widening. "In fact, we have the upper hand here, little wizard."
Echo frowned, a flicker of confusion momentarily replacing his fury. The upper hand? How? Lucius was still writhing on the ground, and Echo's power clearly outmatched him. He glanced at Lucius, then back at Crabbe and Goyle, searching for the source of their newfound confidence. His eyes finally landed on Crabbe's wand, which was pointed upwards, as if magically holding something aloft. Echo's gaze followed the direction of the wand, and his heart leaped into his throat.
Suspended magically above Crabbe's head, shimmering faintly in the dim light of the forest, was the Pensieve.
Echo gasped, a choked sound escaping him. "No!" he cried, his voice filled with a desperate plea.
But before he could utter another word, Crabbe's cruel smirk widened even further. With a flick of his wrist, he dropped his wand. The Pensieve, released from its magical hold, plummeted to the forest floor with a sickening CRACK. Glass and shimmering memories exploded outwards, scattering across the damp earth, utterly destroyed.
"NOOOOOOO!" Echo screamed, a primal roar of anguish ripping from his throat. He ran towards the shattered remnants, dropping to his knees, his hands trembling as he stared at the ruined Pensieve, his hard work now reduced to nothing but glistening shards. His black hair, which had been a furious red moments before, now faded to a dull, lifeless grey, mirroring the ashes of his hope. All his proof, all his careful planning, all his leverage – gone. He had lost his edge.
Despair threatened to consume him, but as he knelt there, staring at the shattered fragments of his justice, a new, far more dangerous emotion began to simmer. The hopelessness curdled into a cold, lethal anger. His grey hair flared, slowly shifting from a dull grey to a menacing, malevolent green, the same color as his glowing eyes.
He slowly rose to his feet, his gaze sweeping over the three cowering figures before him. "So," he said, his voice a low, dangerous whisper that carried an unmistakable chill, "if I can't have my proof… then I'll just have to make you admit to your evil doings." A chilling, humorless chuckle rumbled from his chest. "And I promise you, I'll enjoy every single moment of it. Even if I have to torture it out of you."
Just as Echo finished speaking, Lucius, who had been slowly regaining control over his body, lunged. With a surprising burst of speed, he snatched his wand from the ground and, with a desperate, guttural cry, aimed it at Echo. "Mundus Confundo!" he shrieked.
A sickly yellow spell shot from Lucius's wand, striking Echo squarely in the chest. Echo flinched, bracing himself for agonizing pain, for a curse that would rip him apart. But… nothing happened. He stood there, his green hair still blazing, his eyes wide with confusion. He felt… fine.
"Is that all you got, Malfoy?" Echo scoffed, a flicker of disbelief in his voice. "Was that supposed to do something? Because I feel absolutely nothing. You've just changed my mind, actually. I'm not just going to torture you until you confess. I'm going to break your bodies, then drag your broken forms to Dumbledore and make you admit your crimes with whatever is left of your miserable lives."
With a renewed surge of dark determination, Echo raised his wand, intending to summon his Graphorn. He flicked his wrist, concentrating, willing the powerful beast to appear. Nothing. His green hair flickered with agitation. He tried again, a more forceful movement, a muttered incantation under his breath. Still nothing. Panic began to claw at his throat. He tried a third time, his brow furrowing with desperate concentration, but his magic remained stubbornly silent.
Lucius, seeing Echo's mounting distress, managed to pull himself fully to his feet, a triumphant, sadistic grin spreading across his battered face. "Oh, it did something, you pathetic half-blood!" he snarled, his voice regaining its arrogant edge. "That spell muddies your magic! You can't cast advanced spells! You can't even use your precious Beast Magic! You're helpless, Echo! Utterly helpless!"
As if on cue, Crabbe and Goyle, their smirks now full-blown, closed in on Echo, their wands raised, their eyes glinting with predatory intent. Echo's green hair flickered wildly, his mind racing. He was trapped. But as his eyes darted around, he remembered his satchel, clipped to his pants, always ready.
With a careful, almost imperceptible movement, Echo's hand snaked towards the magic satchel. Then, with one swift, fluid motion, he yanked a potion from its depths. Without a second thought, he hurled the vial at Crabbe and Goyle. It exploded on impact, not with a burst of magic, but with a torrent of roaring, physical fire, engulfing the two cronies in scorching flames.
As Crabbe and Goyle screamed, thrashing wildly in the unexpected inferno, Echo seized his chance. He spun on his heel and bolted, disappearing into the dense, forgiving shadows of the Forbidden Forest.
He crashed through the undergrowth, his lungs burning, the triumphant shouts of Lucius, Crabbe, and Goyle echoing mockingly behind him. The dense trees, once his sanctuary, now seemed to conspire against him, branches whipping at his face, roots tripping his feet. He could hear their heavy footsteps drawing closer, their cruel laughter growing louder, practically breathing down his neck. Then, the world seemed to shrink. He burst into a small clearing, only to find it surrounded by a thick, thorny hedge. A dead end. He spun around, desperate, his back pressed against the prickly barrier. Lucius, Crabbe, and Goyle emerged from the trees, their faces flushed with exertion but alight with malicious glee. They fanned out, forming a semicircle that effectively trapped him.
"Nowhere to run, little half-blood!" Lucius sneered, raising his wand. "Looks like your little fire trick won't save you this time."
Crabbe and Goyle chuckled, their wands also pointed at Echo, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. Echo's green hair blazed with impotent fury. He raised his own wand, a desperate, last-ditch effort. He tried to summon another Graphorn, then a Hippogriff, anything. Nothing. The Mundus Confundo still had its grip, scrambling his more complex magic. He gritted his teeth, forcing every ounce of his will into his wand, focusing on the simplest, most basic spell he knew.
With a grunt of pure effort, a weak, sputtering bolt of red light, barely more than a spark, shot from his wand. It struck Crabbe squarely in the chest, but instead of sending him sprawling, it merely made him stumble, grunting in annoyance.
Lucius let out a triumphant cackle. "A Stupefy? Is that all you've got? How utterly pathetic! You truly are helpless, Echo. Your advanced magic is useless, and your little beast tricks won't work now. You have nothing left!"
Echo straightened, a grim, defiant glint in his green eyes, his hair flickering with renewed defiance. "You really think that spell muddies all my magic, Malfoy? You think I'm that easily incapacitated?" A cold, dangerous smile touched his lips. "You clearly haven't been paying attention."
"Still alone, aren't you?" Lucius countered, his smirk unwavering. "No friends, no powerful beasts to hide behind. Just you and us."
Echo glanced around the darkening forest and then back at Lucius, a flicker of something almost predatory in his gaze. "Alone? Oh, Malfoy," he whispered, a low, chilling chuckle rumbling in his chest. I'm never truly alone in my forest."
Just then, from Echo's discarded satchel, Shimmer suddenly shimmered into visibility. With a furious chitter, the silver creature, brandishing its beating stick, launched itself at Crabbe, pummeling his shins with surprising force. Crabbe roared in pain and surprise, stumbling back. Simultaneously, Sniffles, a blur of fur and mischievous intent, darted out from behind Echo, aiming straight for Goyle's feet, trying to snatch at the buttons on his robes and trousers. Goyle yelped, hopping wildly as he tried to kick the creature away.
Echo let out a sharp, piercing whistle, a sound that cut through the sudden chaos. From every direction, the forest floor erupted. A swarm of tiny, shadowy forms, rustling leaves, chittering sounds, and flashing eyes burst forth. Pixies, gnomes, Puffskines, Jobberknolls, and even a few angry-looking Bowtruckles all poured into the clearing, their tiny forms a furious, living wave. They swarmed the three young men, nipping at their ankles, pulling at their robes, and generally causing utter pandemonium.
Lucius, Crabbe, and Goyle, overwhelmed by the sudden, unexpected onslaught, yelled in frustration and pain, flailing their wands wildly. "Get off me, you pests!" Lucius shrieked, swatting at a particularly persistent pixie that was trying to pull his hair.
"Expelliarmus!" Crabbe bellowed, a desperate attempt to disarm the tiny creatures, but the spell merely fizzled uselessly against the swirling mass.
For a few frantic moments, the clearing was a whirlwind of tiny, angry creatures and flailing, cursing teenagers. But the three older boys, despite their initial shock, quickly recovered. With a concerted effort, Lucius, Crabbe, and Goyle began to fire off wide-area spells – mostly disarming and stunning charms, aimed more at the general mass than any specific creature. The small magical creatures, unable to withstand the continuous magical assault, began to scatter, chittering in frustration as they retreated into the deeper shadows of the forest.
Shimmer, with a final, valiant whack to Crabbe's knee, darted back to Echo's side, its tiny chest heaving. Sniffles, having managed to liberate a button from Goyle's trousers, proudly presented it to Echo before also retreating to his feet.
Lucius, Crabbe, and Goyle, now free of the creature swarm, advanced once more, their faces contorted with renewed fury. "You'll pay for that, Echo!" Lucius snarled, spitting on the ground.
Echo, his green hair still blazing, braced himself, his wand held steady. He fired off another weak Stupefy, catching Goyle in the shoulder, but the burly boy merely grunted and pushed forward. He was almost on him.
Just as they were about to overwhelm him, a volley of arrows, sharp and swift, whizzed past Lucius's ear, burying themselves with a soft thwack into the trees behind him. Another set landed precisely at Crabbe and Goyle's feet, pinning their robes to the ground. The three pure-bloods froze, their eyes wide with fear as a dozen centaurs, their muscular forms emerging from the deeper shadows of the forest, filled the clearing. Ronan, his noble face etched with a fierce protectiveness, stood at the forefront, his bow drawn, an arrow nocked and aimed directly at Lucius.
"Back away from him, humans!" Ronan's deep and resonant voice boomed, a warning that echoed through the trees. "He is under our protection!"
Lucius, Crabbe, and Goyle, visibly terrified, scrambled to free themselves, their faces pale. But before Ronan could give the command to charge or to abduct them as per centaur tradition for those who trespass and cause harm, Lucius, with a desperate, cunning glint in his eyes, pointed his wand at the centaurs. "Confundo Maxima!" he shrieked, a powerful, swirling charm erupting from his wand.
The spell slammed into the centaur ranks, and for a moment, confusion reigned. The centaurs, usually so stoic and clear-minded, whinnied in disarray, their movements becoming erratic. Their bows drooped, their eyes glazing over with a sudden, inexplicable disorientation. With a final, desperate burst of energy, the three young men broke free. They sprinted into the confusion of the centaurs, scattering them further as they vanished into the depths of the Forbidden Forest, leaving Echo alone once more. Echo watched, helpless, as the centaurs galloped off into the deepening shadows of the forest. He saw Lucius Malfoy's retreating, and just before the platinum blond hair vanished, a triumphant, self-satisfied grin flashed across his face. It was a grin that promised retribution, a smirk of pure, unadulterated malice.
Something inside Echo snapped. The despair, the frustration, the feeling of utter powerlessness – it all coalesced into a blinding, volcanic rage. With a guttural cry that was more animal than human, he dropped his wand to the forest floor. His green hair blazed with an infernal fire, and he launched himself at the three retreating figures, a blur of pure, unbridled fury.
Lucius, Crabbe, and Goyle, still basking in their brief victory, were caught completely off guard. Echo hit Lucius first, a wild, unscientific tackle that sent the pure-blood sprawling. Before Lucius could even register what was happening, Echo was on him, a whirlwind of fists and feet. Lucius shrieked, flailing wildly, completely outmatched. He was a duelist, accustomed to elegant spells and precise movements, not a brutal brawl in the dirt. He tried to cast a spell, but Echo's fist connected sharply with his jaw, sending his head snapping back against the hard earth.
Crabbe and Goyle, momentarily stunned by the ferocity of Echo's assault, rushed forward. But Echo was a force of nature. He ducked under Crabbe's clumsy swing, pivoting to deliver a swift, hard kick to the larger boy's knee. Crabbe buckled with a grunt of pain. Before Goyle could react, Echo spun, catching him with a brutal elbow to the side of the head. The two hulking boys, for all their size, were completely unprepared for such raw, untrained violence. They stumbled, groaned, and finally collapsed under the relentless, furious assault.
Echo stood over them, chest heaving, his green hair flickering with a triumphant, albeit terrifying, intensity. His knuckles ached, and his breathing was ragged, but a dark, primal satisfaction surged through him. He had laid them low. He had made them pay.
But just as that dark satisfaction threatened to consume him, Lucius, who had managed to recover his wand in the chaos, erupted with a weak, sputtering charm. "Confundo! " he gasped, his voice strained, aiming it at Echo.
A faint, sickly yellow spell, weak but effective, struck Echo in the chest. His green hair flickered erratically, and his eyes glazed over slightly. He felt a sudden, dizzying disorientation, as if the world had tilted on its axis. His head swam, and he swayed precariously.
Seeing his chance, Lucius, with a desperate burst of strength, pointed his wand again. " Levicorpus! " he shrieked.
Echo gasped as he was suddenly yanked into the air by his ankle, hanging upside down, his head swimming even more violently. His wand, which he had dropped in his initial charge, lay tantalizingly close on the ground.
Shimmer, with a furious chitter, darted forward, its tiny beating stick brandished, aiming for Lucius's legs. But with a sneer, Lucius flicked his wand. " Incarcerous! " A thick rope, shimmering with magical energy, erupted from his wand, binding Shimmer tightly to a nearby tree.
Sniffles, seeing Shimmer trapped, let out an angry squeak and launched itself at Goyle, attempting to bite his hand. But Goyle, still dazed but recovering, managed to raise his wand. " Cagio! " he grunted, and a small, shimmering magical cage materialized around Sniffles, trapping the creature mid-leap.
Lucius, with a triumphant, cruel smirk on his face, flicked his wand again, and Echo plummeted to the ground. He landed with a sickening thud, his head striking a protruding root. There was a blinding flash of pain, and then everything swam. He was dazed and confused, the forest floor spinning around him. He groaned, instinctively reaching for his wand, which lay just out of reach.
Crabbe, still nursing his bruised knee, kicked the wand away with a vicious grin. "Looking for this, half-blood?" he sneered.
Goyle, seeing the discarded wand, shuffled forward, his hand outstretched. "I'll take that!" he grunted, bending to pick it up.
"I wouldn't do that," Echo mumbled, his voice slurred. He was still dazed, but his eyes flickered with something almost like a warning.
Goyle merely smirked, ignoring the incoherent warning, and wrapped his fingers around Echo's wand.
The moment Goyle's hand closed around the elder wand, it reacted violently. Not sensing its master, not accepting the touch of another, the wand pulsed with a malevolent green light. A searing bolt of emerald energy erupted from its tip, striking Goyle square in the chest.
"AARGGHH!" Goyle shrieked, his body convulsing as if struck by a powerful electrical current. The wand, still clutched in his hand, continued to zap him relentlessly, the Cruciatus Curse, raw and uncontrolled, ripping through him. He thrashed, screamed, and finally, with a desperate cry, flung the wand away, his hand smoking slightly.
Echo, still lying on the ground, his head aching, blinked slowly. His green hair flickered with a brief, almost bewildered, blue. "Well," he mumbled, a weak, humorless chuckle escaping him, "I didn't know what to expect, but even that was definitely a surprise."
Lucius, his face contorted in a mixture of anger and disgust, spat on the ground. "Of course! Of course, the little monster's wand is just as cursed as he is!" He glared at Goyle, who was still writhing on the ground. "Get up, you idiot! And help me hold him!"
Crabbe, still pale, hauled Goyle to his feet. Together, the two boys grabbed Echo, roughly pulling him upright, each clamping a hand tightly on one of his arms. Echo swayed between them, his head still swimming, his black hair flickering with confused blue.
"Why, Lucius?" Echo rasped, struggling to hold onto his consciousness, his voice barely a whisper. "Why are you doing all this? What's the point?"
Lucius Malfoy stepped forward, a smug, triumphant grin spreading across his face, completely unconcerned by the lingering green glow of Echo's wand on the forest floor. He reached into his inner robe pocket and pulled out an ornate black medallion on a string. He held it up, displaying it to Echo.
"This, half-blood," Lucius sneered, his silver eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction, "is the whole reason."
Echo's blurred vision focused on the medallion. His blue hair flickered with a sudden, knowing red. "I know that," he mumbled, a bitter twist to his lips. "It's a magical artifact. The Dark Lord gave it to you, didn't he? Said it would 'ignite a spark' in me. Said it was part of his plan for me." He let out a weak, derisive laugh. "But you tried it on Peter, didn't you? It didn't work. Or you don't know how to use it properly. I knew you were stupid, Malfoy, but this... this is beyond belief."
Lucius's smirk didn't falter. If anything, it widened. "Perhaps it did work, and perhaps it didn't," he purred, his voice dangerously soft. "But Peter was a very good testing rat. And now, I know exactly how to use it. And it is all... for you, Echo."
Echo frowned, trying to clear his head. "What do you mean?"
"Every insult, every slight, every rumor, every time I pushed you, manipulated you, made you feel like an outcast, like a freak, and then made you that in the eyes of the school..." Lucius leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, his breath foul. "It was all leading to this moment, Echo. Right here, right now. To have you join the Dark Lord. To serve him. To embrace the power you so desperately try to deny from him."
Echo's red hair blazed, and a raw, guttural growl rumbled in his chest. "I'd rather eat dragon shit, Malfoy."
Lucius chuckled, a cold, humorless sound. "Oh, I know that, Echo. We all know that. Which is why the Dark Lord gave me this." He gestured to the medallion. "To ignite that spark of darkness within you. To bring you to his side, willingly or not. After all," he said, his eyes glittering with triumph, "if a monster won't listen, the best thing to do is put it on a leash."
With a final, cruel flourish, Lucius snapped the medallion against Echo's chest. A deep, cold, utterly evil aura spilled out, rushing towards Echo like a physical wave. It permeated his very being, a chilling, insidious tendril of darkness that wrapped itself around his magical core. Echo screamed, a sound torn from the deepest parts of his soul, his body arching, his green hair flaring with a violent, agonizing intensity as the ancient, malevolent magic began its terrible work.
He writhed, convulsing in the grip of the medallion's dark power, every nerve ending screaming in protest as the foreign magic invaded his core. His green hair, a desperate banner of his inner struggle, flickered wildly, cycling through a dizzying array of colors—red for fury, blue for despair, black for the encroaching void. Shimmer and Sniffles, still trapped in their magical restraints, chittered and squeaked in frantic distress, pulling desperately at their bonds, but to no avail.
Lucius watched, his face alight with a horrifying satisfaction, a triumphant sneer fixed on his lips. Crabbe and Goyle, though still bruised and disheveled, grinned with malicious glee, their grip on Echo tightening to ensure he couldn't escape the agony.
The world blurred, a chaotic symphony of pain and despair. Echo's mind screamed, his inner self a battleground where his own vibrant magic fought a losing war against the encroaching darkness. He felt it, a cold, predatory presence settling deep within his magical core, a parasitic entity latching onto his very essence. It wasn't just draining his magic; it was twisting it, corrupting it, reshaping it to its own malevolent will. Then, just as he thought he would shatter, a new sensation pierced through the agony. A familiar, ancient warmth, deep within him, stirred. The Dark Beast, which had been momentarily dormant, now roared. It wasn't a roar of pain or fear, but of pure, unadulterated rage. It recognized the invading magic, a familiar and despised rival.
With a surge of power that defied the medallion's grip, the Beast lunged, not at Echo's core, but at the parasitic tendrils of Lucius's magic. A silent, internal battle raged, far more destructive than any physical confrontation. Echo's green hair suddenly flared an impossible, brilliant white, momentarily blinding Lucius, Crabbe, and Goyle. The force of the Beast's retaliation sent a shockwave through the forest, the very trees seeming to shudder. The medallion, still clasped to Echo's chest, began to hum, then vibrate, its dark aura flickering wildly. Lucius's triumphant smirk faltered, replaced by a look of growing alarm. The medallion was reacting in a way he hadn't anticipated, as if the power it was meant to control were fighting back with a vengeance.
A guttural growl, deeper and more primal than any dragon's roar, erupted from Echo's chest, a sound that seemed to shake the very ground. His white hair pulsed, then with a final, blinding flash of emerald green, the medallion shattered, exploding outwards in a shower of obsidian dust. Lucius, Crabbe, and Goyle were thrown backward, screaming as fragments of the cursed artifact embedded themselves in their skin, burning like molten lead. The magical ropes binding Shimmer and Sniffles snapped, dissolving into wisps of smoke.
Echo stood, chest heaving, his green hair still blazing, his eyes glowing with an intense, raw power that seemed to emanate from his very soul. The pain was gone, replaced by a profound, almost dizzying, sense of energy. He felt… unbound. Unfettered. The Dark Beast within him, rather than being weakened, seemed to have absorbed the medallion's magic, twisting its corrupting influence into something new, something terrifyingly potent, yet under his command.
He looked down at the three cowering figures, Lucius groaning, Crabbe and Goyle writhing in pain, covered in the stinging dust of the shattered medallion. A cold, dangerous smile, devoid of mirth, spread across Echo's lips.
Echo, his red hair blazing, his chest heaving. He looked at the three figures, then at the destroyed remnants of the medallion on the forest floor, and a cold, humorless laugh escaped him. "Is that it, Malfoy?" he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Is that all? Is that the best the Dark Lord could make to try to turn me? If so, the Dark Lord's darkness must be a shadow compared to the void within myself." He gestured dismissively at the medallion's remains. "I almost can't believe I thought that mystery medallion was actually a threat, ever since Severus was telling me all those months ago about how dangerous this magic was, how dark it was, how it was so old and ancient that tomes are written about its tomes. But I guess that's what happens when the blind lead the blind, and then send the incompetent to do the dirty work."
As the three young men scrambled to their feet, their faces contorted with surprise and growing anger, Echo's wand appeared in his hand, having clattered to the ground earlier. He twirled it once, a dangerous glint in his glowing red eyes. "If you're quite done mucking about," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "perhaps it's time for a real wizard's duel." His red hair pulsed, almost vibrating with the raw power contained within him. "I'll show you three real Dark Magic from a wizard whose magic is as deep and dark as a void in his soul."
With a guttural roar, Crabbe launched the first attack, a sickly green jet of light erupting from his wand. Echo, moving with surprising agility, sidestepped the curse, simultaneously unleashing a powerful, crackling purple hex that slammed into a nearby tree, causing it to splinter and groan. Goyle followed suit, a barrage of dark jinxes flying towards Echo, who parried them with a series of shield charms that shimmered with an unnatural, almost black, energy.
Lucius, his face a mask of aristocratic rage, joined the fray. "Crucio!" he shrieked, the Unforgivable Curse tearing through the air. Echo, his red hair blazing, met it with a counter-curse of his own, a blinding flash of emerald light that collided with the Crucio, causing a shockwave that rattled the ancient trees. The clash of magic was immense, far more powerful than any student should be capable of producing.
Crabbe and Goyle, emboldened by Lucius's presence, pressed their attack, their spells coming faster and with more malicious intent. Echo, a whirlwind of motion, deflected, dodged, and countered, his own curses and hexes flying with a ferocity that seemed to defy his young age. A dark, swirling orb of energy, born of pure shadow, erupted from his wand, slamming into Crabbe and sending him sprawling backwards, groaning in pain. Goyle, momentarily stunned by the display, found himself caught in a tangle of thorny vines that erupted from the ground at Echo's command, binding him tightly.
Lucius, seeing his cronies incapacitated, let out a furious snarl. "You little monster! You'll pay for that!" His eyes blazed with a murderous intent, and with a chilling whisper, he uttered the words that struck fear into the hearts of all wizards. "Avada Kedavra!"
A blinding flash of emerald green light, the Killing Curse, shot from Lucius's wand, tearing through the darkness of the forest, aimed directly at Echo's heart. Time seemed to slow. Echo, his red hair flaring to a brilliant, almost blinding violet, stood his ground. Instead of dodging or shielding, he raised his wand. To Lucius's horror, the emerald light of the Killing Curse slammed into Echo's wand tip, not dissipating, but absorbing into him through it, a dark, swirling energy that pulsed within his being.
Lucius gasped, his face draining of all color. "What—what was that?! You—you shouldn't be able to survive the Killing Curse!"
Echo, his violet hair now a calm, almost serene black, smiled, a chilling, predatory glint in his hollow eyes. "My magic is different, Malfoy. It always has been. My dark affinity makes it so that I understand jinxes, hexes, and Drak Magic better than anyone else." With a flick of his wrist, the absorbed energy of the Killing Curse, now twice as potent, shot back towards Lucius, a terrifying emerald projectile.
"No!" Lucius shrieked, his eyes wide with pure terror. He desperately threw up a massive boulder from the forest floor, conjuring it with a desperate surge of magic. The boulder, ancient and moss-covered, materialized just in time, taking the full force of the amplified Killing Curse. It exploded into a shower of dust and rock, leaving a gaping crater in its wake.
Lucius, breathing heavily, stared at the destruction, his face pale and drawn. His fear, however, was quickly replaced by a furious resolve. "You may have survived one, Echo," he snarled, his voice trembling with a mixture of terror and unyielding hatred, "but you won't survive another!"
With a renewed burst of manic energy, Lucius unleashed a barrage of curses, each one deadlier than the last. Dark, swirling hexes, bolts of blinding light, and slicing jinxes rained down on Echo. Crabbe and Goyle, having managed to free themselves, joined their master, their own wands spitting curses. The clearing became a whirlwind of destructive magic, a deadly dance between the four young wizards.
Echo, a dark blur of motion, met every spell with a counter-spell, his violet hair flaring with each powerful deflection. He wove through the onslaught, his movements fluid and precise, his face a mask of grim determination. He was no longer just defending; he was pressing his advantage, seeking an opening. He launched a series of complex, dark jinxes that glowed an eerie purple, forcing Lucius to retreat as his elegant shield charms barely held. Crabbe and Goyle, less skilled than their master, found themselves overwhelmed, their spells becoming increasingly desperate and erratic.
With a final, explosive burst, his magic spilled out from his own shadow, causing it to take shape, form, and solidity, allowing Echo to send Crabbe and Goyle flying backward, their wands clattering to the ground as they landed with sickening thuds against the ancient trees. They lay there, groaning, momentarily incapacitated. Now, it was just Lucius and Echo. The air crackled with raw, untamed magic, the very trees seeming to hold their breath.
"This ends now, Malfoy," Echo said, his voice low and dangerous, his black hair slowly fading to a menacing, vibrant green. You took everything from me—my friends, my proof, my peace. Now, I'm taking yours."
Lucius, his face contorted with a mixture of fear and rage, scoffed. "You think you can defeat me, half-blood? I am a Malfoy! My blood is pure!"
Echo laughed, a cold, humorless sound that sent shivers down Lucius's spine. "And my magic, Malfoy," he retorted, his green eyes burning with an infernal light, "is a void. A void that will consume you whole."
With a chilling whisper, Echo began to cast a spell, an ancient incantation that seemed to resonate with the forest's darkness. The air grew heavy, the shadows deepened, and a swirling vortex of emerald and black energy began to coalesce around his wand tip. Lucius watched, his eyes wide with a terror he had never known, a terror that went beyond mere physical fear. This was primal. This was a force he couldn't comprehend, let alone fight.
"What… what is that?" Lucius stammered, his voice cracking, his wand trembling in his hand.
Echo's smile widened, a terrifying, predatory grin. "This, Malfoy," he purred, his voice a low, dangerous rumble, his green hair blazing like a demonic crown. This, Malfoy, is the true nature of my darkness. And you, Lucius Malfoy, are about to become intimately acquainted with it."
Just as the shadowy figure coiled, ready to strike, and the vortex of energy around Echo's wand reached a crescendo, Echo paused. His eyes, still blazing green, flickered, and a faint tremor ran through his body. The predatory smile slowly faded, replaced by a more complex, troubled expression. The vibrant green of his hair softened, slowly dimming, and the shadowy form of his doppelganger, which had been growing larger and more solid, wavered, shrinking back into his own shadow, becoming formless once more. The swirling vortex of energy around his wand dissipated, leaving only the quiet rustle of leaves. Lucius, though still trembling, slowly lowered his wand, a flicker of confusion mixing with his relief.
Lucius's eyes darted frantically around, searching for any sign of escape, but there was none. He tried to speak, but only a choked whimper escaped his throat. Echo took a deep breath, a slow, deliberate intake of the cold forest air in the heat of summer. His red hair softened to a calm, almost thoughtful black. He then walked slowly towards the terrified Lucius, his gaze never leaving the older wizard's face.
"But I have a better idea," Echo said, his voice now surprisingly gentle, yet no less menacing. "As I said before, there are fates far worse than death. And even though you've muddled my magic core with that spell you cast, and I can't summon creatures to my aid, there is one thing I can call upon regardless of my magic."
With a casual flick of his crooked wand, a chilling gust of cold swept through the clearing. The air grew heavy, and a formless shadow began to coalesce from the deeper gloom of the forest. Lucius gasped, a strangled sound of pure terror, as the spectral figure of a Dementor materialized before them, its tattered cloak billowing in the sudden, unnatural wind.
"No… no, it's impossible!" Lucius babbled, his voice trembling uncontrollably. "You can't… You can't tame a Dementor!"
Echo merely chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. His black hair blazed with a triumphant, dangerous yellow. "Oh, but I can, Lucius. I found a loophole." He gestured to the Dementor, which floated silently, its unseen gaze fixed on the terrified wizard. "You see, after you sent this very Dementor after me last summer, and it sucked all but my soul out, I realized something. I could still use the Unforgivable Curses, despite lacking the emotions needed to cast them."
Echo's eyes, usually hollow, now held a chilling, almost detached intensity. "So I thought to myself: what happens when you can use a spell that requires a component of an emotion, but you don't have any emotions? The answer, Lucius, is that you can harm non-beings like Dementors."
Lucius, his face ashen, tried to argue, "But… but you do have emotions! I've seen them! Even right now."
Echo's smirk widened, a cold, predatory glint in his eyes. "The void in my magic, Lucius, was created when that Dementor sucked all the joy and light from me. I managed to pull myself out, but at times when necessary, I can dip myself back inside. And this Dementor knows it."
He turned to the Dementor, his voice dropping to a low, commanding tone. "Go ahead," Echo said, a wave of his hand encompassing Lucius, Crabbe, and Goyle. "Eat up. But don't kill them. I still need them alive."
The Dementor, as if understanding, slowly drifted towards the three cowering figures, and a collective, terrified whimper escaped their lips as the chilling aura of despair began to engulf them.
The Dementor glided closer, its chilling presence causing the very air to thicken with despair. Lucius, Crabbe, and Goyle all winced, their bodies recoiling involuntarily as the creature began to feed. Their faces, already pale, became ashen, and their eyes, once filled with defiance or fear, now held a vacant, hollow look. A silent scream seemed to emanate from them, a profound sense of joy and hope being siphoned away. Echo watched, a dark, triumphant glee flickering in his eyes, his red hair blazing with satisfaction. He let it continue for what felt like an eternity, savoring the sight of their torment.
Finally, with a sharp, almost imperceptible flick of his wrist, Echo commanded, "That's enough."
The Dementor immediately ceased its feeding, hovering silently, its tattered cloak still billowing in the unnatural chill. Echo leaned down, his face mere inches from Lucius's. The older wizard's eyes, though still wide with terror, held a flicker of something akin to defiance.
"Ready to admit your crimes before Dumbledore and the Aurors of the Ministry, Lucius?" Echo's voice was a low, dangerous whisper.
With a sudden, unexpected surge of strength, Lucius managed to gather a glob of saliva and spit directly into Echo's face. Echo flinched back, wiping the spittle away with a slow, deliberate motion, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits.
"Very well," Echo said, his voice dangerously calm. "It seems you still need a little more convincing." He turned to the Dementor. "Continue, then. Feed until Lucius feels like talking."
The Dementor resumed its grim work, and the three Slytherins once again contorted in silent agony, their bodies writhing against their invisible bonds. Echo watched, his dark glee returning, his hair flickering with a triumphant yellow. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the only sounds the rustle of leaves and the faint, almost inaudible moans of the suffering wizards.
Then, a small, young voice, sharp and clear, pierced through the oppressive atmosphere. "Echo!"
Echo's head snapped up, his triumphant grin faltering. His eyes, which had been fixed on Lucius, now darted to the source of the sound. Standing at the edge of the clearing, his small face etched with pleading, scared eyes, was young centaur colt, Frieze.
A sudden, jarring moment of self-reflection stabbed through Echo's dark satisfaction. He saw himself through Colt's innocent eyes: a boy, his face contorted with a cruel glee, commanding a creature of pure despair. The image was stark, ugly, and utterly unlike the hero Colt believed him to be.
With both Echo and the Dementor momentarily distracted, a faint shimmer of light erupted from Crabbe's bound form. With a grunt of effort, he managed to pull his wand free from his robes. "Expecto Patronum!" he croaked, his voice strained but resolute.
A shimmering, incorporeal light burst from his wand, its form glowing softly silvery. The Dementor, caught off guard, shrieked, a sound of pure agony and aversion, and recoiled, dissolving back into the shadows of the forest.
Seizing the opportunity, Goyle, who had also managed to free his wand, grabbed hold of Crabbe and a still-reeling Lucius. With a desperate surge of magic, the three Slytherins vanished with a faint *pop, apparating away from the clearing and the terrifying scene they had just endured.
The shimmering light of the Patronus faded, leaving the clearing in the Forbidden Forest once again cloaked in shadows and the lingering scent of fear. Echo, his red hair slowly dimming to a confused black, blinked, the last vestiges of his dark glee evaporating. He looked around, his hollow eyes searching for the three young men, but they were gone. The rustle of leaves, the distant hoot of an owl – these were the only sounds that greeted him. They had vanished.
A primal roar ripped from Echo's throat, echoing through the silent forest. "Lucius!" he screamed, his voice raw with a potent blend of fury and frustration. "Lucius, you coward!" He screamed until his voice was hoarse, the words tearing from him like jagged shards of glass. "You had better run\!" he shrieked, his voice cracking with venom. "Never show your face again, or I will hunt you down to the ends of the Earth and make you pay!"
He stood there, chest heaving, his body trembling with spent rage. Slowly, he turned, his eyes falling on the young centaur, Colt Frieze, who still stood at the edge of the clearing. Colt's eyes, wide and filled with a mixture of disbelief and fear, stared back at him. A profound, unsettling terror replaced the innocent admiration that had once shone in them.
"Frieze…" Echo whispered, his voice suddenly weak, a pathetic plea. He reached out a trembling hand, trying to bridge the chasm that had suddenly opened between them.
But it was too late. With a frightened whinny, Frieze turned and bolted, his hooves pounding a frantic rhythm against the forest floor as he disappeared into the deeper shadows.
"Frieze!" Echo cried out, his voice choked with despair, but the forest's vast, indifferent silence swallowed the sound.
His hand, still outstretched, fell uselessly to his side. The realization crashed over him, heavy and undeniable. He had lost him. Another friend, another chance at redemption, gone. He sank to his knees, the cold, damp earth seeping through his robes, his shoulders shaking with a silent, profound grief. The darkness of the forest seemed to press in on him, mirroring the despair that now consumed his soul. His black hair, a wild tempest of despair, slowly settled into a dull, lifeless grey. He was truly, utterly alone now. No friends, no proof, no hope. Just the echo of his own screamed rage and the chilling image of Frieze's frightened eyes. The Forbidden Forest, once a sanctuary, now felt like a tomb.