Echo's eyes snapped open with a gasp, his body jolting upright in a narrow, unyielding bed. For a dizzying moment, he was disoriented, a lingering phantom pain thrumming through his head. He blinked, trying to clear the haze from his vision, and slowly, the familiar white walls and rows of beds came into focus. He was in the Hospital Wing.
"Ah, Mr. Echo, you're finally awake!" a stern but relieved voice broke through his confusion. Madam Pomfrey, her face etched with a mixture of exasperation and genuine concern, bustled over to his bedside. "You gave us quite the scare, young man. Quite the scare indeed." She placed a cool hand on his forehead, then tutted softly.
Echo's black hair flickered with a confused white. He looked around, his mind still a blank. "What… what happened?" he croaked, his throat feeling raw. He tried to remember, but the last thing he recalled was a surging, agonizing pull, then darkness.
Madam Pomfrey sighed, her lips thinning. "What happened, Mr. Echo? I'll tell you what happened. The Marauders brought you in at dawn, bleeding from every orifice, looking like you'd tangled with a particularly aggressive Bludger and lost. They were quite hysterical, I might add." She shook her head, then offered him a small, steaming goblet. "Drink this. It's a nutrient potion. You've lost a great deal of blood."
Echo took the goblet with a trembling hand, the metallic taste of blood still lingering in his mouth. He swallowed the potion. Its warmth spread through him, a jolt of energy slowly returning to his exhausted body. His white hair flickered to a thoughtful grey as he tried to reconstruct the events. The knife… the cut… Remus's screams… the dark tendril… the unimaginable pain… it was all a blur. He couldn't remember the full scope of it, but a deep, primal exhaustion remained.
Madam Pomfrey watched him, her eyes sharp. "Do you remember anything, Mr. Echo? Anything at all about how you came to be in such a state?"
Echo met her gaze, his grey hair still, his face carefully blank. He knew, instinctively, that the truth – about the werewolf, about his attempts to extract the curse – was not something he could share. "No, Madam Pomfrey," he said, his voice flat, a carefully constructed lie. "I… I think I just overworked myself. Too many late nights brewing, perhaps." He offered a weak, unconvincing shrug. "My magic… sometimes it just takes too much out of me."
Madam Pomfrey's lips thinned further, a skeptical glint in her eyes. "Too many late nights brewing, indeed," she sniffed, though a hint of relief softened her tone. "Well, your 'overworking' almost cost you your life, Mr. Echo. Though it seems a rather ill-advised prank aided it." She paused, her gaze unwavering. "The Marauders, as you call them, confessed that they added an… 'extra' ingredient to a potion you were up late brewing. Something they claimed was supposed to make your nose grow longer, if you can believe such childishness. Instead," she concluded, her voice sharp with disapproval, "it appears to have caused an internal magical backlash, almost making you bleed out."
Echo's grey hair flared, morphing into a vivid, almost incandescent blue. His hollow eyes widened with a sudden, dawning realization. The lie. They had lied. Not to protect themselves, but to protect him. To protect Remus. The memory of his furious, bleeding face, the image of them trying to pull him away, their terrified pleas… it all clicked into place. They had seen what he had done, seen the cost, and they had covered for him.
"They… they did that?" Echo murmured, his voice soft with a mixture of shock and a strange, unexpected warmth. His blue hair pulsed, then softened to a grateful black. "Where are they now?"
Madam Pomfrey snorted. "Where else? Detention, of course. Sorting and dusting every single book in the library for the entire weekend. And you know what the most peculiar thing was, Mr. Echo?" she continued, a note of genuine bewilderment in her voice. "They didn't even try to lie. Not properly, anyway. They were unusually adamant, almost begging for the punishment. It was most unlike them, truly. As if they felt they deserved it."
Echo, still processing the Marauders' unexpected act of loyalty, nodded slowly. His black hair pulsed with a quiet understanding. "They did, didn't they?" he mused softly. "Yes, well, that sounds about right for them." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I suppose I owe them a visit."
Madam Pomfrey, however, intercepted his attempt to sit up. "Oh no, you don't, Mr. Echo!" she exclaimed, pushing him gently but firmly back onto the pillows. "You are to remain in this bed for the rest of the day. No extraneous tasks, no late-night brewing, no plotting with your… unconventional friends. Just rest. Understood?"
Echo, seeing the absolute finality in her gaze, knew the argument was futile. He offered a small, resigned nod. "Understood, Madam Pomfrey. Rest. I think I can manage that." His black hair settled into a calm, almost sleepy grey.
Meanwhile, in the vast, echoing silence of the Hogwarts library, the Marauders were indeed paying their penance. James, Sirius, and Peter, covered in dust and looking utterly miserable, were meticulously sorting and polishing ancient tomes under the unblinking, hawk-like gaze of Madam Pince, the librarian. Her spectacles gleamed menacingly in the dim light, and her every movement was accompanied by the rustle of her robes and the faint, rhythmic tap of her index finger on a particularly dusty shelf.
"Potter! Black! Pettigrew!" she hissed, her voice a sharp whisper that cut through the silence. "Are those first editions being treated with the respect they deserve? I see a smudge, Mr. Black! A smudge, I say!"
Sirius, who was polishing a particularly heavy book on ancient runes, flinched, vigorously rubbing at the offending mark. James groaned, running a hand through his already messy hair, while Peter merely whimpered, shrinking further behind a pile of particularly large spellbooks.
Just then, a mischievous cackle echoed from the far end of the library, and Peeves, the poltergeist, materialized amidst a stack of particularly rare and valuable volumes. With a triumphant grin, he snatched three of them – a first edition of Magical Me, a priceless tome on advanced Dark Arts, and a rather luridly illustrated book titled One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi – and zoomed off, trailing a shower of loose parchment and ghostly laughter.
"Catch me if you can, you old bat!" Peeves shrieked, his voice echoing tauntingly through the hallowed halls. "These books need a bit of a stretch, don't you think?"
Madam Pince let out a sound that was a cross between a squawk and a roar. Her eyes, usually so sharp with suspicion, widened in pure, unadulterated fury. "Peeves! You menace! Bring those back this instant!" She grabbed a heavy, leather-bound volume from a nearby trolley and hurled it with surprising force in the poltergeist's direction, missing by a mile. Without a backward glance, without a single instruction to the three still-cleaning Marauders, she tore off after Peeves, her robes flapping like an enraged bat, her shouts echoing through the library. "Those are irreplaceable! Irreplaceable, you incorrigible fiend!"
The Marauders watched her go, their jaws slack. A stunned silence hung in the air, broken only by the distant sounds of Madam Pince's furious pursuit.
A soft, sibilant whisper slithered through the suddenly quiet library, making the hairs on the Marauders' necks stand on end. "Psst… over here…"
James, Sirius, and Peter exchanged wide-eyed glances. "Did you hear that?" James whispered, his voice hushed.
"Sounded like… Echo," Sirius murmured, peering into the shadowed stacks. "Echo? Where are you, mate?"
The whisper came again, a little closer this time. "Is she gone? Completely gone?"
"Pince? Yeah, she went tearing off after Peeves," Peter squeaked, still trembling slightly. "Full-blown banshee mode, she was."
The air near them rippled with a soft shimmer, and Echo materialized, looking surprisingly refreshed, his black hair calm. Shimmer, the Demiguise, perched on his shoulder, blinked its large, intelligent eyes.
Echo let out a long, weary sigh. "Bloody hell. I'm going to owe Peeves a favor for that. Alright, Shimmer," he murmured, stroking the creature's head, "keep an eye out for Pince. If she so much as sniffs in this direction, give me a warning."
Shimmer chittered softly in agreement, its silver fur shimmering as it turned its head. Its eyes were scanning the vast library with keen attention.
James, ever the first to recover, frowned. "Echo! What in blazes are you doing here? You're supposed to be in the Hospital Wing! Pomfrey will have an absolute cow if she finds you've snuck out!"
Echo shrugged, his black hair flickering with a dismissive green. "She left to tend to someone on the Quidditch pitch, apparently, she'll be gone for a bit. Gave me a perfect window. Besides," he added, his voice softening almost imperceptibly, "I just wanted to come and… thank you three. For helping me. And for making up that ridiculous story to Pomfrey and taking detention for it." He paused, his green hair settling into a familiar, unbothered black. "But don't think for a second that means I've suddenly grown fond of the four of you. I still wouldn't trust any of you to hold an iron-clad dragon egg without dropping it."
James, Sirius, and Peter exchanged weary glances, then nodded in unison. "We get it, Echo," James said, a small, genuine smile touching his lips. "Loud and clear."
"So, how's Remus?" Echo asked, his black hair pulsing with a worried indigo.
"He's recovering," Sirius replied, his voice subdued. "Trying to pry the curse out was way tougher on his body than the actual transformation back. He's sleeping now in Gryffindor Tower."
"Were you… Were you actually able to remove it?" James asked, a hesitant hope in his voice.
Echo shook his head slowly, a faint, sad frown creasing his brow. His indigo hair darkened to a troubled, analytical black. "No. It was far too tough. And honestly," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper, "I'm kind of glad I didn't. For a moment, I almost thought my beast would consume Remus's soul instead of just the curse itself. It was… a lot hungrier than I anticipated."
"Well, it was worth a try, mate," Sirius said, clapping Echo gently on the shoulder. "And after all, it's apparent you can do it. You just need to practice… somehow."
Echo merely nodded, a thoughtful glint in his hollow eyes. "Indeed." He paused, then looked at them. "Did you manage to ask Remus why he wasn't at the Shrieking Shack last night?"
James sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. He said his Arithmancy project, the one he was supposed to hand in today, went missing. He had to do it all over again from scratch, and he just… lost track of time. The full moon caught him by surprise."
"He tried to hide," Sirius added, his voice grim. "But he kept seemingly getting pushed towards the dungeons, no matter which way he went. Like something was guiding him there."
Echo's black hair flared with a cold, terrifying rage, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. "Lorelle Paris," he snarled, the name a venomous hiss on his lips. "Of course. He must have planned all of this from the start. Using Remus like some sick lure at the end of a fishing line." His gaze drifted to the now-empty space where the closet had been. "It's a good thing McGonagall found us when she did. Maybe Paris Hilton was trying to corner us with his granny's wig." The marauders looked at him wildly until Echo told them, "I'm clearly talking about Lucius."
Peter, still looking pale, wrung his hands. "But how did… how did Lucius even find out about Remus being a werewolf?" he stammered. "And why aren't we telling Dumbledore or… or anyone about all this?"
Echo sighed, his black hair flickering with a frustrated purple. He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know how he found out, Peter. Malfoy has his ways, and his family has connections everywhere. As for telling anyone," he continued, his voice hardening, "we've already been through this. We have no proof. It's just our word against his. And whoever Lucius is taking orders from… their instructions are pretty clear. They want to expose Remus and get to me. We can't give them that satisfaction."
Crimson's hair was still blazing, and Echo turned, only to find a shimmering, translucent figure hovering upside down in the middle of the library. Peeves, his tiny, wicked eyes gleaming with pure, unadulterated glee, clapped his hands together silently.
"Ooh, naughty, naughty, Echo, keeping secrets again!" Peeves cackled, his voice a high-pitched, ethereal whine that grated on the nerves. He floated closer, his spectral form vibrating with malicious delight. "Pince is currently chasing a particularly convincing illusion of a sentient, self-inking quill through the Restricted Section, thanks to a little hint from yours truly. And while she's busy, I heard the most delightful news! Remus Lupin, our very own little wolfy-poo, is a werewolf! The rumors are true! And Echo knew! Naughty, naughty, keeping secrets from old Peeves! I'm going to tell everyone!" He spun in a dizzying circle, his cackles echoing through the sanctuary.
The Marauders, momentarily stunned by Peeves's sudden appearance and casual revelation, immediately sprang into action. Wands were drawn in a flash, and their faces contorted with a mixture of fury and desperation.
"You won't tell anyone, you infernal poltergeist!" James snarled, his wand pointed directly at Peeves, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"We'll sooner die than let that happen!" Sirius added, his voice a low, furious growl, his own wand trembling slightly in his hand.
Peter, though still pale, managed to point his wand with a shaky hand, a squeak of defiance escaping him.
"Stop!" Echo commanded, his voice sharp, cutting through the tense air. His crimson hair, still blazing, flickered with a sudden, exasperated purple. He stepped between the Marauders and the gleeful poltergeist, pushing their wands down. "It's useless! He's a poltergeist, you buffoons! You can't harm a non-being with a stunning spell!"
James, his jaw tight with frustration, lowered his wand slightly. "But… but we have to do something! I'll use my Patronus! That'll scare him off!"
Echo rolled his eyes, his purple hair pulsing with a weary exasperation. "No, James, you won't. A Patronus only works on Lethifolds and Dementors. Peeves is neither. He's a magical manifestation of chaos, not a soul-sucking fiend."
Peeves, delighted by their futile attempts, merely laughed louder, his translucent form shimmering with glee. "That's right, little wizards! You can't touch old Peeves! And now, I'm off to spread the delightful news! Ta-ta!" He began to float towards the door, a triumphant smirk on his spectral face.
"Wait!" Echo called out, a sudden, mischievous glint entering his hollow eyes. His purple hair shifted to a brilliant, thoughtful blue.
Peeves stopped, hovering just before the door, a flicker of curiosity in his tiny eyes. "Oh? And why should old Peeves wait, little Echo? Got another secret to share?"
Echo's smile widened, a genuine, almost predatory grin. "I have a better idea, Peeves. A much, much better idea."
Peeves tilted his head, his interest piqued. "Oh? Do tell, do tell!"
"No, Peeves," Echo said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, his blue hair darkening to a calculating indigo. "No secrets to share. Just… a proposition. One that I think you'll find far more entertaining than simply blurting out the news."
Peeves, ever the showman, folded his translucent arms. "Oh, really? And what could be more entertaining than a good old-fashioned scandal, little wizard? The cries! The gasps! The sheer, unadulterated panic! It's music to old Peeves's ears!"
Echo's indigo hair pulsed, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touching his lips. "Telling everyone would bring a momentary uproar, yes. A flash in the pan. A fleeting burst of chaos. And then… it would be over. Done. Old news within a day." He paused, letting his words sink in. "But imagine, Peeves, if you were to draw it out. To prolong the agony. To stretch the tension until it snaps."
Peeves tilted his head, his tiny eyes narrowing in thought. "Draw it out, you say? But how? If I don't tell them, where's the fun?"
"Precisely," Echo murmured, his voice laced with a dark, persuasive charm. "You don't tell them by telling them. You tell them by telling them nothing."
Peeves blinked, his ghostly form flickering with confusion. "Peeves is confused, little wizard. How does one tell nothing by telling nothing? That sounds… boring."
Echo chuckled, a low, dry sound. His indigo hair brightened to a vibrant, almost wicked purple. "Oh, but it won't be boring, Peeves. Not for you. And certainly not for them. Here's what you do: you go around, to every common room, every corridor, every single student and professor you can find. And you tell them, in your most tantalizing, most maddening whisper, that you know something. Something truly scandalous. Something that would turn the school upside down. Something about a secret… a secret that someone in this castle is desperately trying to hide."
Peeves's eyes widened, a slow, malevolent grin spreading across his face. "Ooh, I like where this is going, little wizard!"
"But here's the crucial part," Echo continued, his voice firm, his purple hair pulsing with a compelling energy. "When they ask you what it is, when they beg and plead and bribe you with cauldron cakes and promises of endless pranking opportunities… You say nothing. Not a single crumb, Peeves. Not a hint. Not a whisper. You just… look at them, with a knowing smirk. And you float away, leaving them to wonder. To guess. To scheme."
Peeves let out a delighted, silent gasp, his ethereal hands clasping together. "To wonder! To guess! To scheme! Oh, the torment! The delicious, delicious torment!"
"Exactly," Echo said, his purple hair settling into a triumphant, mischievous emerald. "They will speculate. They will whisper. They will accuse each other. They will tear themselves apart trying to figure out what you know. And the more you refuse to tell, the crazier they'll get. Especially the Ravenclaws," he added, a glint of genuine malice in his hollow eyes. "The sheer lack of information will utterly shatter their logical minds. It will drive them absolutely mad."
Peeves let out a high-pitched, gleeful cackle, his translucent form vibrating with unholy delight. "Oh, little wizard, you are truly a genius of torment! I love it! I love it!" He spun in a dizzying circle, then began to chant, his voice echoing eerily through the vast library:
"I know something you don't know!
A secret that will make you low!
I know a secret, dark and deep!
A secret that you'll try to keep!
La-la-la-la-la"
He stopped abruptly, hovering directly in front of Echo, his tiny eyes gleaming with admiration. "Thank you, little Echo! Thank you for the most magnificent idea for mischief! Old Peeves will not forget this!" With a final, triumphant cackle, he vanished in a faint shimmer of spectral light, leaving behind only the lingering echo of his song.
The Marauders stood in stunned silence, their wands still half-raised, their faces a mixture of relief and utter bewilderment.
"Blimey," James finally breathed, lowering his wand. "How in Merlin's name did you do that, Echo? How do you… control Peeves?"
Echo merely shrugged, his emerald hair settling into a calm, almost dismissive black. "Control? No, James. It's not about control. It's about speech. You just have to know how to talk to Peeves. And for what it's worth, it's quite simple once you understand his headspace."
Before Echo could say anything else, Sirius, his face still pale but now beaming with relief, lunged forward and enveloped the smaller wizard in a bone-crushing hug. "Echo! You are an absolute legend! Thank you! Thank you so much! I could almost kiss you right now!"
Echo, stiffening in the embrace, managed to pry one arm free and pat Sirius awkwardly on the back. His black hair pulsed with a brief, annoyed red. "Don't be ridiculous, Sirius. You're not my type."
Sirius, still grinning, released Echo, then clapped James on the shoulder. "You heard the man, Prongs! He's not my type! Guess you're still the only one I'm allowed to kiss." He winked at James, who rolled his eyes, a faint blush touching his cheeks.
Peter, meanwhile, was still looking at Echo with a mixture of awe and bewilderment. "You… you just saved Remus from being exposed, Echo. And us from… from expulsion." He swallowed hard. "Thank you."
Echo merely shrugged, his black hair settling into a calm, unbothered grey. "Don't thank me yet, Peter. This is just a temporary reprieve. Peeves will eventually spill the beans if he gets bored enough, or if someone offers him a truly irresistible bribe. We still have to figure out how to deal with Malfoy and who he's taking orders from." He looked at James and Sirius, his grey hair darkening to a thoughtful indigo. "And you two still need to figure out how to stop being utter gits to Severus."
James and Sirius both winced, but before they could respond, a soft chitter came from Echo's shoulder. Shimmer, the Demiguise, had turned its head, its large, intelligent eyes fixed on the library's entrance. Its silver fur rippled, a silent warning.
"Pince," Echo murmured, his indigo hair flashing with a brief, alarmed red. "She's coming back. And she's not happy. Alright, you three, scatter! And try not to make it obvious I was here."
With a final, urgent nod, Echo vanished with a soft shimmer, a mere silver ripple on his shoulder. The Marauders, startled but quick to react, immediately fanned out, grabbing books and polishing shelves with renewed, frantic energy, trying to look as innocent as possible.
Madam Pince, her face still red with fury from her chase after Peeves, stormed back into the library a moment later. Her eyes, like a hawk, immediately swept over the three boys. She paused, sniffing the air suspiciously, her gaze lingering on a particularly shiny section of ancient scrolls.
"Alright, you dunderheads," she snapped, her voice still laced with a lingering edge of rage. "Less dawdling, more dusting! I expect this entire section to be spotless by supper, or you'll be spending the rest of the month in here with me, organizing the forbidden section by the rarity of their curses!"
The Marauders merely nodded, their heads bowed, as Madam Pince stalked through the library, muttering darkly about "incorrigible poltergeists" and "priceless tomes."
Meanwhile, Echo, having rematerialized invisibly outside the library, made his way back to the Hospital Wing. The adrenaline of confronting Peeves and the relief of the temporary solution had begun to wear off, leaving him utterly drained. He slipped back into his bed, pulling the covers up to his chin just as Madam Pomfrey bustled back in, still muttering about a bludger-induced concussion.
"Alright, Mr. Echo," she said, her voice surprisingly gentle as she checked his pulse. "You seemed to have managed your rest quite well. No more shenanigans, mind you."
Echo merely offered a weak, tired smile. "Of course, Madam Pomfrey. Just… resting." His grey hair settled into a peaceful, calm black as he closed his eyes, pretending to drift off to sleep. His mind, however, was still racing. Peter's fear, Malfoy's hidden agenda, the unknown master pulling his strings… it was all connected. And he knew, with a chilling certainty, that this was just the beginning. The bell for the end of the school day chimed, and students began to pour out of classrooms, their excited chatter filling the corridors. Echo, still feigning sleep, heard the familiar, distant sounds of Hogwarts coming to life. But for him, the real battle was only just beginning.