The aroma of sizzling bacon, fresh pastries, and strong coffee filled the Great Hall the following morning. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air and glinting off the polished silverware. Echo, surprisingly well-rested despite his ordeal, sat at the very back table with his usual group of misfits. Shimmer was a faint silver ripple on his shoulder, occasionally nudging a piece of toast towards his mouth, while Sniffles was attempting to steal a sausage from a nearby plate. His black hair was calm, reflecting the quiet relief he felt at the temporary peace, but his mind was already turning, planning. He knew the reprieve from Peeves wouldn't last, and the threat of Lucius Malfoy still loomed.
"Echo, where were you yesterday during dinner?" Lily's bright and inquisitive voice cut through his thoughts. She stood beside their table, a slight frown on her face, her green eyes fixed on him. "I looked for you everywhere. You just vanished."
Echo blinked, his black hair flickering with a brief, almost imperceptible blue of surprise. He hadn't expected her to notice his absence, let alone care enough to ask. "Just… busy, Lily," he mumbled, trying to keep his voice neutral. He took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "Lots of things to do."
"Well, you missed quite the spectacle," she said, her frown deepening. "Peeves was absolutely insufferable. He kept floating around, whispering about a 'secret' and tormenting everyone. Especially the Ravenclaws. I swear, he nearly drove Professor Flitwick to pulling out his own hair." She paused, then her gaze sharpened, a hint of concern entering her eyes. "Echo, are you alright? You look a bit… peaky."
"I'm fine, Lily," Echo replied, perhaps a little too quickly. He pushed a stray piece of bacon around his plate. "Just a long night." His eyes, however, caught on something. Lily was still standing there, looking at him with that same knowing expression she often wore when he was trying to hide something. A thought, cold and unsettling, suddenly struck him.
"Lily," Echo said, his voice lowering, his blue hair darkening to a thoughtful indigo. "How much do you know about… Remus?"
Lily blinked, taken aback by the abrupt change in topic. Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. "Remus? What about Remus? Is something wrong with him? He wasn't at breakfast either."
Echo stared at her for a long moment, his indigo hair pulsing, trying to gauge her reaction, trying to see if she was feigning ignorance. Her confusion seemed genuine. "Never mind," he said, shaking his head slightly. "It's nothing. Just… a thought."
He turned back to his breakfast, but his appetite had vanished. He was about to try to coax Sniffles into finishing his toast when Frank Longbottom, sitting a few seats down, suddenly let out a surprised exclamation.
"What in Merlin's beard is this?" Frank asked, holding up a small, elegant note, sealed with a distinctive silver crest – a stylized, snarling wolf's head. He had found it tucked neatly under his plate.
A ripple of murmurs went through the hall as other curious students began to check under their own plates. Soon, Amos Diggory, sitting opposite Frank, found an identical note. Then, one appeared under Lily's plate, then Severus's, and finally, one materialized under Echo's own plate with a faint, almost imperceptible shimmer.
The silence that followed was thick with anticipation. Everyone had a note now, neatly sealed with the silver wolf's head crest. Students nervously eyed each other, clutching the mysterious notes.
Echo stared at the sealed note in his hand, his black hair flaring with a sudden, panicked crimson. This isn't good. This isn't good at all. Then, as if on cue, a collective gasp swept through the Great Hall. The notes, held by every student and professor, simultaneously glowed with a faint silver light, then burst open, revealing their contents. A chilling silence descended upon the hall as the words on the parchment were read. Echo's own eyes scanned the elegant script, his blood running cold.
"A wolf lurks among us. A creature of the night, hiding in plain sight. One of your beloved students harbors a dark secret. And to ensure no one forgets, every goblet in this hall has been replaced with pure silver. Soon, the culprit will reveal themselves."
The last sentence seemed to echo in the sudden, horrifying stillness. Echo's gaze snapped up, darting across the Gryffindor table. His eyes immediately found Remus Lupin. Remus was already sweating profusely, his face pale and clammy. His hands trembled, clutching his open note as if it were a death warrant. As Echo watched, a faint rash began to appear on Remus's neck and arms, quickly blossoming into an angry, red breakout of hives. His breath came in shallow, panicked gasps. No, Echo thought, a surge of adrenaline coursing through him, his crimson hair blazing with alarm. He's reacting to the silver. He needs to get out of here. Now.
Without another thought, Echo sprang into action. He needed a diversion, something big, something that would draw all eyes away from the rapidly deteriorating Remus.
"Aghk! I'm dying! I'm dying of… silver poisoning!" Echo shrieked, suddenly leaping from his separate table, sending plates and goblets clattering. His crimson hair flared wildly as he clutched his throat, his face contorting in a grotesque, exaggerated portrayal of suffocation. He wobbled precariously, knocking over a jug of pumpkin juice that splattered across the polished wood. "The… the silver! It burns! It's a conspiracy! They're trying to kill me with… with cutlery!"
A collective gasp swept through the Great Hall. Students and professors alike stared at the spectacle, completely blindsided.
"He's the werewolf!" someone shrieked from the Hufflepuff table, pointing a trembling finger at Echo. "He's allergic to silver!"
"Impossible!" Severus Snape's sharp and authoritative voice cut through the clamor. He had risen from where he sat next to Echo, his black eyes narrowed, a rare flash of concern in their depths. "Echo was at dinner last night. The full moon was present then. How could he be the werewolf if he was eating roast beef and pudding just days ago?"
As Severus spoke, Echo let out one final, theatrical gurgle, his eyes rolling back dramatically. He then pitched forward with a loud thwack, sprawling across the table amidst the spilled juice and scattered food, completely still. Just as the first shouts of alarm began to ripple through the hall, a familiar, high-pitched cackle echoed from above. Peeves, now sporting a ridiculously oversized top hat and a bloodstained apron, materialized over Echo's prone form.
"Make way! Make way for the esteemed Doctor Peeves!" the poltergeist shrieked, brandishing a comically large, feather-duster-shaped thermometer. He poked Echo vigorously with it, then peered at his still face with mock gravity. "Hmm, yes, a classic case! I diagnose this patient with… utterly, completely, irrevocably DEAD!"
A fresh wave of panic erupted. Amidst the chaos of screaming students and bewildered professors, the Marauders, their faces a mixture of horror and grim determination, seized their opportunity. James and Sirius, moving with practiced stealth, each grabbed one of Remus's arms, practically dragging his now-limp body towards a side door. Peter, still pale, scurried behind them, his eyes darting nervously. As the Great Hall dissolved into pandemonium, Remus was spirited away, unnoticed, amidst the theatrical death of Echo.
"Peeves!" Professor McGonagall's voice, sharp and laced with a rarely heard fury, cut through the din like a knife. She strode purposefully through the chaos, her lips a thin, white line. "That is quite enough! Remove yourself this instant, and put that… that prop away!"
Peeves, momentarily taken aback by the sheer force of her anger, actually faltered. "Oh, Professor Minerva, always such a spoilsport!" he whined, but with a less enthusiastic cackle. He saluted comically with the feather duster and vanished with a final, mischievous "Tootle-pip!"
Madam Pomfrey, having finally pushed her way through the bewildered crowd, knelt beside Echo's prone form, her face a mask of concern. She quickly ran a diagnostic charm over him, her wand glowing faintly. "He's not poisoned, thank Merlin," she muttered, a wave of relief washing over her. "Just… a rather dramatic fainting spell, it seems." She shot a withering glare at the still-scattered plates and pumpkin juice. "And a complete mess."
Echo, sensing his cue, slowly, dramatically, fluttered his eyelids open. His crimson hair, which had remained stubbornly crimson during his "death," now softened to an embarrassed pink. He sat up, rubbing his head with an exaggerated groan. "Ugh, my head," he mumbled, trying to look as disoriented as possible. "What… what happened? Was it the silver? Did I… did I defeat the evil cutlery?"
Professor McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mr. Echo," she said, her voice dangerously calm, "you are a menace. And you are going straight to the Hospital Wing."
Echo sighed dramatically, his pink hair fading to a resigned black. "Already been there, done that, got the questionable t-shirt, Professor. Can't I just get a quick check-up here? I promise to be… moderately less dramatic next time."
Madam Pomfrey, however, was having none of it. "Hospital Wing, Mr. Echo! And don't think for a second I'm letting you out of my sight until I'm sure you haven't done any permanent damage to yourself with your… theatricality." She began to levitate him gently off the table, ignoring his protests.
As Echo was floated out of the Great Hall, he managed to catch Lily's eye. She was still standing by their table, her expression a mixture of bewilderment, concern, and a faint, almost imperceptible hint of a knowing smile. He gave her a subtle, almost imperceptible wink, his black hair flickering with a brief, grateful blue. She blinked back, then a small, genuine smile touched her lips. She understood.
Safely in the Hospital Wing, Echo found himself back in the familiar, narrow bed. Madam Pomfrey was clucking over him, force-feeding him another nutrient potion, while simultaneously berating him for his "utter recklessness."
"Honestly, Mr. Echo," she tutted, waving her wand over a bruise he didn't remember getting. "Do you have any idea what panic you caused? And all for… what? A bit of dramatics?"
Echo, his black hair settled into a calm, almost innocent grey, just shrugged. "Sometimes, drama is necessary, Madam Pomfrey. Especially when there's a… a crisis afoot." He left the implied meaning hanging in the air, knowing she wouldn't press further.
Once Madam Pomfrey had finally bustled away, satisfied that he wasn't, in fact, dying of silver poisoning, Echo sat up, his grey hair pulsing with a thoughtful indigo. He knew what he had done for Remus, but the thought of the note, the orchestrated revelation, still churned in his stomach. Lucius Malfoy. He was making his move. And he wasn't holding back.
His gaze drifted to the window, where the morning sun was now shining brightly. He had bought Remus some time, but it wouldn't last forever. The entire school now knew a werewolf was among them, even if they didn't know who. The seed of suspicion had been planted.
"You're thinking very loudly, you know," a quiet voice observed from the foot of his bed.
Echo's head snapped up. Severus Snape stood there, a book clutched in one hand, his usual scowl firmly in place. But his black eyes, usually filled with disdain, held a rare, almost unreadable expression of… something akin to concern.
Echo blinked, his indigo hair flickering with surprise. "Severus? What are you doing here? Don't tell me you've finally managed to catch a rare strain of dramatic fainting disease."
Severus merely sneered. "Hardly. I came to retrieve a copy of 'Advanced Potion-Making' that Pomfrey confiscated from a particularly clumsy first-year." He gestured vaguely towards a pile of books on a nearby trolley. "Though, I admit, the spectacle you created in the Great Hall was… memorable. Even for you." He paused, then his gaze, sharp and penetrating, met Echo's. "You played quite the fool, Echo. But I saw. Your hair… it was crimson. You knew. You knew what that note meant, didn't you?"
Echo's indigo hair settled into a firm, unyielding black. He met Severus's gaze directly. "I knew enough."
Severus's lips thinned. "Enough to stage a rather convincing performance of an allergy to silver, thereby drawing attention away from the actual person who would be reacting to it." He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low, intense whisper. "Remus Lupin. It's him, isn't it?"
"I assumed you already knew," Echo said, his voice flat, his black hair flickering with confusion. "After that night in the Shrieking Shack… and the note I left for you… it seemed pretty obvious."
Severus snorted, running a hand through his greasy black hair. "Obvious? Echo, all I saw was some… creature transforming into a werewolf in a very messy, very traumatic fashion. It was a lot to process, frankly. I honestly tried to forget the entire horrific ordeal. And your note," he added, a sneer returning to his lips, "merely stated that I shouldn't let Remus suffer the consequences of his other idiotic friends. It didn't explicitly say that Remus Lupin was a werewolf, did it?"
Echo remained silent, his black hair unwavering.
Severus sighed, a sound of profound exasperation. "Still, I suspected as much beforehand. His frequent illnesses, his absences around the full moon… it all fits. And now, Malfoy. He always did enjoy a good exposé." He looked around the Hospital Wing, then back at Echo. "So, what's the plan, Echo? How do you intend to keep this under wraps now that the entire school is looking for a 'wolf among us'?"
Echo leaned back against his pillows, a faint, dry smile touching his lips. His black hair pulsed with a thoughtful, analytical blue. "The plan, Severus, is quite simple. We use Peeves. The longer he draws out the 'mystery,' the more convoluted and ridiculous the rumors will become. Eventually, they'll cancel each other out. And in the meantime…" He paused, his gaze hardening. "In the meantime, we figure out how Malfoy got his information, and we find out who he's working for."
Severus raised an eyebrow, a flicker of grudging respect in his eyes. "You're using a poltergeist to spread misinformation. Bold, even for you. But what about the source? Malfoy wouldn't have just stumbled upon this information."
Echo nodded grimly. "Exactly. And I have a strong suspicion about how. It all comes back to Peter. He was coerced. And Malfoy's father is a convenient cover. Someone far more dangerous is pulling the strings." He looked at Severus, his blue hair darkening to a chilling emerald. "I need your help, Severus. You know the dark arts better than anyone in this castle. You know the politics, the undercurrents. Help me find out who is truly behind this."
Severus stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, a slow, almost imperceptible nod. "Very well, Echo. I will help you. Not because I care for the well-being of a werewolf, but because I have a vested interest in exposing anyone who uses such underhanded tactics within these walls. And because," he added, a hint of something darker in his voice, "I despise Lucius Malfoy."
A small, almost predatory smile touched Echo's lips. His emerald hair settled into a determined black. "Excellent. Welcome to the team, Severus. Just try not to scowl too much. It'll scare the Demiguise."
Severus, about to turn and leave, paused as Echo's voice stopped him. "Severus, wait a moment," Echo called out, his black hair flickering with a hesitant blue. "There's actually something else I needed to speak with you about."
Severus turned back, his scowl deepening slightly, but he gave Echo his full, albeit impatient, attention. "What is it now, Echo? My patience, unlike your dramatics, has its limits."