The morning sun, streaming through the high windows of the Great Hall, painted the long tables in shifting patterns of gold and dust motes. The usual cacophony of breakfast—the clatter of plates, the murmur of conversations, the occasional burst of laughter—filled the air. At their accustomed table, set slightly apart from the bustling main throng, Echo sat hunched over a particularly thick, leather-bound Advanced Potions textbook, a fork of scrambled eggs hovering forgotten near his mouth. His black hair, a calm, focused blue, occasionally flickered with a contented green as he absorbed a complex diagram.
Perched on his shoulder, Shimmer, a faint silver ripple, meticulously unfolded a copy of the Daily Prophet, its almost-visible eyes scanning the headlines with uncanny speed. From the depths of Echo's robes, Sniffles, ever the opportunist, made a series of quick, furtive attempts to snatch a shiny silver spoon from the table, only to be met with a silent, reproving chitter from Shimmer. Above Echo's head, Peeves, a translucent, grinning menace, was having a grand time, making Echo's plate of sausages and bacon perform an elaborate, slightly suggestive dance, much to the amusement of no one but himself.
"Honestly, Echo," Amos said, stifling a yawn and pushing a piece of toast around his plate. His usually cheerful black hair was a sleep-tousled grey. "Do you ever stop studying? It's breakfast."
Lily, her green eyes twinkling, offered Echo a plate of fruit. "He's always like this when he's engrossed," she said fondly, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. Her dark hair was neatly braided, a picture of calm efficiency.
Severus, who had just arrived and was already meticulously arranging his own breakfast (a single, perfectly buttered slice of toast and a cup of black tea), let out a long, suffering sigh. His black hair was as smooth and dark as ever. "He's certainly dedicated to avoiding all forms of social interaction, I'll give him that."
Echo merely grunted, turning a page in his textbook. His blue hair remained unperturbed.
"Speaking of social interaction," Amos began, a mischievous glint entering his eyes, his grey hair brightening to a curious yellow. "Echo, you remember how I always joked that our little group needed a Ravenclaw to complete the set, right? To balance out all our Gryffindor impulsiveness, Slytherin cunning, and… well, whatever it is you are, Severus."
Echo lowered his book slightly, his blue hair flickering with recognition. "I do," he confirmed, spearing a piece of dancing sausage with his fork. "It was a running gag."
Severus groaned, pushing his untouched toast away. "You make the same joke every single day, Digorry."
Lily sighed, a soft, exasperated sound. "And it was only funny the first time, Amos. We've heard it."
"Alright, alright, grumpy lot," Amos said, unperturbed. "But what if… what if that Ravenclaw could be… Gilderoy Lockhart?"
A sudden, horrified silence fell over the table. Echo's sausage-laden fork clattered onto his plate. Lily's pumpkin juice almost spilled. Severus's perfectly arranged toast wobbled precariously. Even Peeves, who had been orchestrating a particularly intricate dance routine for a stack of pancakes, paused mid-air, his spectral face contorting in a grimace of pure disgust. Shimmer, on Echo's shoulder, crumpled the Daily Prophet with an audible rustle. Sniffles, caught in the act of trying to pry a sugar cube from the bowl, froze, his beady eyes wide with a shared sense of revulsion.
"Amos!" Echo hissed, his black hair flaring a violent, indignant red. "Don't joke about such things! That's just… wrong!" He grabbed a piece of toast that Peeves had made dance the WAP, taking a large, aggressive bite.
"Well, don't look now, but I think the universe finally heard me," Amos said, a hint of genuine panic in his voice, his yellow hair darkening to a worried orange. "Because he's heading this way."
All four heads (and one shimmering blur, one furry lump, and one translucent poltergeist) slowly, almost imperceptibly, shifted their gaze. Down the aisle, with a confident, almost theatrical stride, Gilderoy Lockhart, his perfectly coiffed golden hair gleaming, his teeth flashing in an impossibly wide smile, was indeed making a direct beeline for their table. He wore robes of a particularly vibrant, peacock blue, and carried a stack of what appeared to be signed photographs of himself.
"Not again," Lily muttered, running a hand through her hair.
"Maybe if we ignore him, he'll just go away?" Frank suggested, his voice a hopeful whisper.
Echo let out a long, weary sigh, his red hair flickering with a resigned blue. "One can only hope." He immediately plunged his face back into his Advanced Potions textbook, pretending to be deeply engrossed, his blue hair a determined shield.
Lily quickly picked up her own book, adopting an air of intense study. Severus, with remarkable speed, pulled out a scroll of parchment and a quill, furiously scribbling notes that probably made no sense. Amos suddenly became fascinated with a crack in the table. Frank dug his face into his food. Even Shimmer, with a huff, completely disappeared behind the crumpled newspaper, a silver void where its face should have been. Sniffles, with a nervous squeak, darted back into the folds of Echo's robes. And Peeves, with a mischievous POP, manifested his own, impossibly large newspaper, holding it upside down, his ghostly eyes darting over the blank pages with exaggerated concentration. The table became a sudden, unified tableau of extreme, forced distraction.
A shadow fell over their meticulously feigned disinterest. Gilderoy Lockhart, a dazzling smile stretching his face, came to an abrupt halt beside their table. His peacock-blue robes seemed to hum with self-importance.
"Ah, my dear, studious young minds!" he boomed, his voice radiating theatrical warmth. "Gilderoy Lockhart, at your service! Though I daresay you already know that, given my many, many published works." He chuckled, a self-deprecating sound that somehow managed to convey immense pride. "It's truly humbling, I find, to be so… universally recognized. Why, just yesterday, a first-year Gryffindor mistook me for Dumbledore! Can you imagine? Such a sweet child. Of course, I gently corrected him, explained the nuances of fame versus… well, versus mere academic prowess. One must be modest, after all, despite one's extraordinary achievements, don't you agree? I mean, who else has single-handedly vanquished a Bandon Banshee and a Werewolf with nothing but a well-placed smile and a timely Confundus Charm? Or outwitted a Troll, for that matter? It simply wouldn't do to brag, even if one has done all those things and more, and written best-selling books about them!"
He paused, a beatifically humble expression on his face, waiting for their inevitable admiration. The only sound was the faint thump of Peeves's upside-down newspaper against the table. Echo, his face still buried in his textbook, felt a muscle twitch in his jaw. His blue hair began to pulse with increasing agitation. The only thing on his mind was the desire for someone, maybe Lucious, to come and kill him already.
Lily, without looking up from her book, subtly nudged Echo under the table. "Don't, Echo," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "He'll take it as bait."
Echo's eye twitched. He gripped the edge of his textbook, his knuckles white. The cloying sweetness of Lockhart's voice was like a drill boring into his skull. He couldn't take it anymore. He slowly, deliberately, lowered his book, his blue hair flaring to an agitated, dark indigo. He fixed Lockhart with a glare that promised immediate and painful retribution.
"Look, Lockhart," Echo said, his voice dangerously low, each word carefully enunciated, "I appreciate that you find yourself utterly fascinating, but some of us are trying to have a quiet breakfast and maybe, just maybe, learn something that doesn't involve a vanity project. So, with all due respect to your monumental ego, would you kindly take your... talents elsewhere?"
Lockhart blinked, his impossibly wide smile faltering for a fraction of a second before it returned, even wider and more insufferable. He leaned in conspiratorially, as if sharing a profound secret. "Ah, a classic! The intimidation tactic! I understand completely, young man. It's only natural to feel a touch… overwhelmed, perhaps, by true greatness. Many feel that way in my presence. But don't you fret! I was just a second-year once, too, utterly intimidated by the sheer scope of the magical world. Though I must confess, I quickly moved past that stage myself. My natural brilliance, you see, simply couldn't be contained by such paltry emotions!"
Frank, who had been struggling to keep a straight face, let out a sudden, explosive snort, nearly choking on his orange juice. "Intimidated?" he spluttered, once he could breathe again. "Echo? By you, Lockhart? You couldn't intimidate a Demiguise wielding a feral Niffler!"
Lockhart's smile tightened, a glint of annoyance in his eyes. "On the contrary, Mr. Longbottom! I've taken on far worse than a mere Demiguise and a Niffler! Why, just last year, I single-handedly—"
Before he could launch into another embellished tale, a silver blur shot out from behind the crumpled Daily Prophet. Shimmer, now fully visible, landed on the table with a determined look on its face. With a swift, almost practiced motion, it snatched Sniffles from Echo's robes, holding the Niffler like a furry, squirming weapon. Sniffles, delighted by the sudden elevation and the proximity of shiny things, immediately began to swipe at the glittering frantically, elaborate buttons adorning Lockhart's peacock-blue robes, letting out a series of excited squeaks.
Lockhart let out a high-pitched, almost effeminate shriek, stumbling backward, his meticulously coiffed hair momentarily disarrayed. He batted wildly at the air, his eyes wide with genuine panic, utterly unprepared for the furry, button-obsessed onslaught. "Good heavens! Get it away from me! It's… It's attacking my vestments! My custom-tailored, imported silk vestments!"
A roar of laughter erupted from Echo's table. Lily, quickly recovering, snatched Sniffles out of Shimmer's grasp, cuddling the squirming Niffler protectively to her chest as it purred contentedly, a tiny, satisfied glint in its beady eyes. Shimmer, meanwhile, leaped gracefully onto Frank's shoulder, its silver fur rippling with mischievous pride. Amos, still shaking with silent mirth, reached into his pocket and produced a small, perfectly ripe plum, which he offered to the triumphant Demiguise. Shimmer accepted it with a delicate, almost human nod of thanks.
Severus, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touching his lips, merely scoffed. "Indeed," he drawled, his voice laced with biting sarcasm. "He can take them on."
Echo, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye, finally managed to compose himself. His blue hair, which had been flickering with amusement, settled into a curious, almost challenging yellow. "Alright, Lockhart," he said, his voice still a little breathless from laughter. "What in the name of Merlin's saggy left sock could you possibly want this time?"
Lockhart, his peacock-blue robes still slightly disheveled but his smile unwavering, puffed out his chest. "I, Gilderoy Lockhart, O.M. (Third Class), Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award... challenge you, Echo."
A collective groan, loud and theatrical, erupted from the table. Frank buried his face in his hands. Lily rolled her eyes so hard they almost disappeared. Amos let out a despairing sigh, and even Severus allowed a visible shudder to pass through him. Peeves, however, merely cackled with renewed vigor, already anticipating the ensuing mayhem.
Lockhart's smile tightened at the corners. "Is there a problem?" he asked, his voice losing a fraction of its usual warmth.
"Is there a problem?" Amos repeated, his voice laced with incredulity, his yellow hair flaring with exasperation. "Lockhart, you always challenge Echo! And when you do, it's always something so utterly ridiculous, something that Echo could absolutely, unequivocally fail at!"
"Yeah," Lily added, her green eyes flashing. "Like that time you challenged him to a 'friendly' game of Gobstones, knowing full well he'd never played before, and then tried to trick him into eating the exploding ones!"
"Or when you dared him to 'charm' the Giant Squid into giving you an autograph," Frank interjected, shaking his head. "You practically sent him on a suicide mission!"
Severus, to everyone's surprise, chimed in, his voice a low, bitter growl. "Let us not forget his insistence that Echo engage a Blast-Ended Skrewt in a 'debate' on the merits of Mermish poetry."
Peeves, not to be outdone, materialized directly over Lockhart's head, dangling a stray quill. "And what about that time you wanted him to teach a Hippogriff to tap-dance, eh? Said it would be 'marvelously photogenic' for your next book cover!"
Lockhart, though a faint, almost imperceptible flush colored his cheeks, merely smoothed his robes. "Well, this is different," he declared, his voice regaining its bluster. "Completely different!"
Echo, his blue hair settling into a thoughtful, almost weary black, finally looked up, a hint of genuine curiosity in his hollow eyes. "I'm listening, Lockhart."
Lockhart leaned in, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper, though it was still loud enough for the entire table to hear. "A little bird told me, Echo, that you have a girlfriend. And not just any girlfriend, but a mermaid! A real pearl of the sea!"
"Lake," Echo corrected automatically, then his eyes narrowed, and his black hair flared crimson with irritation. "And get to the fucking point, Lockhart!"
Lockhart beamed, triumphant. "I bet you," he announced, drawing himself up to his full height, "that I can win her heart away from you! Woo her, if you will!"
The table fell silent. The clatter of cutlery ceased. All eyes, including Peeves's spectral ones, turned to Echo. His crimson hair slowly, almost unnaturally, faded to a calm, icy grey. His hollow eyes, usually so expressive, became still and unblinking. His voice, when it came, was a mere whisper, barely audible above the lingering silence.
"You… you really think you can pull that off, Lockhart?"
Lockhart nodded confidently, his smile radiating absolute self-assurance. "Naturally, my dear boy! My charm is simply irresistible. No woman, or mermaid, for that matter, has ever been able to withstand the Lockhart magic!"
A strangled gasp escaped Echo, quickly followed by a low, rumbling chuckle. The chuckle grew, building in intensity, until Echo threw his head back and broke out into uncontrollable, booming laughter, tears streaming down his face, his black hair blazing with an almost manic yellow. Frank, Lily, Amos, and even Severus, after a moment of stunned silence, joined in, their laughter echoing through the Great Hall. Peeves, delighted by the pure, unadulterated absurdity of it all, clapped his hands together and zipped through the air.
"Hear ye, hear ye, all ye students of Hogwarts!" Peeves shrieked, his voice carrying clearly to every corner of the vast hall. "Gilderoy Lockhart, our very own Dunderhead of Defence, thinks he can steal Echo's mermaid girlfriend! He thinks he can woo a mermaid! The idiocy! The sheer, unadulterated idiocy!"
The entire Great Hall erupted in a fresh wave of laughter, a cacophony of mirth that drowned out Lockhart's sputtering protests. Students pointed and whispered, their faces alight with amusement at the sheer audacity of the challenge. Lockhart, for the first time, looked genuinely flustered, his triumphant smile replaced by a strained grimace. His peacock-blue robes seemed to lose some of their vibrant luster under the collective ridicule.
Echo, still breathless from laughter, wiped his eyes. His yellow hair flickered with playful delight. "Alright, Lockhart," he finally managed, his voice still shaking with amusement. "You want to serenade a mermaid, do you? You want to win Skate's heart?" He paused, a mischievous glint in his hollow eyes. "Fine. You're on."
Lily, her face etched with alarm, immediately grabbed Echo's arm. "Echo, no!" she pleaded, her voice urgent. "You can't be serious! You know what he's like! He'll make a mockery of you, and it'll be a disaster!"
Echo gently but firmly removed her hand, his yellow hair flickering with a calm resolve. "Lily, I know what I'm doing," he assured her, a glint of determination in his hollow eyes. "Trust me on this one. I have a plan." He turned back to Lockhart, his grin widening, a predatory glint returning to his eyes. "Alright, Lockhart," Echo said, his voice dropping to a low, confident tone. "If you want to challenge me, we'll do it on my terms."
Lockhart, still preening from his perceived victory, puffed out his chest. "And what terms would those be, my dear boy?" he asked, a smug smirk on his face.
Echo leaned forward, his yellow hair darkening to a thoughtful blue. "Tomorrow, after classes, we will both go down to the shore of the Black Lake. There, we will both sing. But not just for Skate." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the table, making eye contact with each of his friends. "We will sing for all the mermaids of the Black Lake. They will be the judges of who is better."
Lockhart's smug expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. Singing for all the mermaids? That was a far cry from charming a single, impressionable girl. But then, his ego reasserted itself, and a confident smile returned. "Deal!" he declared, extending a hand. "A public display of my undeniable talent! I accept your terms, Echo!"
Echo merely raised an eyebrow, his blue hair flickering with amusement. "Not so fast, Lockhart. There's more."
Lockhart's hand paused in mid-air. "More?"
"First," Echo continued, his voice firm, "if the mermaids, or Skate, don't show up, the challenge is off. Mermaids are finicky at best, and they don't like crowds. And knowing you, Lockhart, you'll try to bring the whole school, plus your gaggle from the school's Daily Prophet, to watch."
Lockhart bristled, but Echo held up a hand. "Second, you can use any enchantment to make musical instruments play, or a charm that can make your voice louder, but not a charm that makes your singing better than what it actually is. Apart from that, all you have to do is sing."
Lockhart's face was a mixture of annoyance and determination. He clearly didn't like the restrictions, especially the one about crowds, but the lure of showcasing his supposed talent was too strong to resist. He finally nodded, a thin smile on his face. "Very well, Echo. I'm on."
They shook hands, a firm, almost bone-crushing grip from Echo, and a surprisingly weak one from Lockhart. The challenge was set.
"Perfect!" Lockhart exclaimed, his smile widening even further. "It's Valentine's Day tomorrow, after all! A day for romance, for declarations of affection! What better way to win a fair maiden's heart?"
Echo stared at him, his blue hair flickering with utter bewilderment. "Valentine's Day?" he repeated, his voice flat. He turned to Lily, a silent question in his hollow eyes.
Lily sighed, a small smile playing on her lips. "It's a Muggle holiday, Echo," she explained, her voice soft. "People exchange cards and gifts, usually heart-shaped, to show affection to their loved ones. It's meant to be romantic."
Echo's blue hair darkened to a thoughtful black. "So, a day to give heart-shaped objects to people you like," he mused. "Got it. Well, I've got work to do."
Lockhart, looking immensely pleased with himself, puffed out his chest and strutted away, humming a self-satisfied tune.
Frank, watching him go, turned to Echo, a worried frown on his face. "Echo, are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. "Lockhart, for all his… everything, does have the voice of an angel. And you, well…"
Echo sighed, his black hair flickering with a resigned blue. "I remember the last time I sang, Frank. I made a ghost's ears bleed, despite the impossibility of that." He rubbed his temples. "But I've been practicing. I don't sound like a troll getting shoved down a drainpipe anymore. Besides," he continued, a mischievous glint entering his hollow eyes, "I'm not singing for the school. I'm singing for the mermaids. That's a world of difference. And I have a way to at least mitigate the damage of my vocals."
The final bell for classes that day chimed, a welcome sound that signaled the end of academic obligations. Echo, his black hair a determined blue, waited patiently for the last student to file out of Professor Flitwick's Charms classroom. Flitwick, a tiny man with a booming voice and a perpetually cheerful demeanor, was busily tidying his desk, humming a jaunty tune.
"Professor Flitwick, may I have a moment of your time?" Echo asked, stepping forward.
Flitwick looked up, his bright eyes twinkling. "Ah, Mr. Echo! Always a pleasure. What can I do for you, my boy?"
Echo leaned against a desk, his blue hair flickering with a hint of exasperation. "I suppose you've already heard about the… challenge, between Lockhart and me?"
Flitwick's smile widened conspiratorially, and he gave a knowing nod. "Indeed, Mr. Echo! The news has spread faster than a bludger in a Quidditch match! It's the talk of the castle, and I daresay, Hogsmeade too. That Lockhart certainly knows how to make an announcement."
"Exactly," Echo muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Which brings me to my request. I was wondering, Professor, if you might be willing to do me a rather large favor."
Flitwick tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "A favor, you say? Of what nature, Mr. Echo?"
"Well," Echo began, his blue hair darkening to a thoughtful black, "knowing Lockhart, he's probably already got a whole band of enchanted instruments ready to play while he 'sings' to the mermaids. And as you may or may not know, Professor, my singing voice isn't exactly… angelic." He winced at the memory of the ghost's ears. "I was hoping you could enchant a few instruments for me. Nothing too elaborate, just enough to… well, to help pick up the slack for my lack of musical talent. I'd do it myself, but I don't know the spell."
Flitwick stroked his chin, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Enchant instruments, you say? An interesting request, Mr. Echo. Before I give you my answer, I must ask: why do you truly wish to undertake this challenge? Is it merely to silence Mr. Lockhart, or is there more to it?"
Echo sighed, his black hair softening to a resigned blue. "Honestly, Professor, originally it was just to get him to stop challenging me every other week. It's exhausting. But then Lily mentioned it was Valentine's Day tomorrow, and… well, now I really just want to impress Skate. She deserves something special, and I want to give it to her."
A warm, genuine smile spread across Flitwick's face, and his eyes twinkled brighter than ever. "Ah, Mr. Echo," he said, his voice brimming with delight. "A noble endeavor indeed! To impress a lady, and especially a mermaid! Consider it done, my boy. Come, let us select some instruments. We shall ensure your serenade is truly unforgettable!" He then winked. "And perhaps a few extra charms to help with… projection. We wouldn't want the entire lake to miss your heartfelt declaration, now would we?" causing Echo to blush and his hair to turn pink.
The next day dawned bright and clear, a crisp winter morning perfectly suited for a public spectacle. By the time the final classes ended, a sizable crowd had gathered at the edge of the Black Lake. Students from all four houses huddled together, their breath misting in the chilly air, a mixture of anticipation and gossip rippling through them. Teachers, too, were present, ostensibly to supervise, but many with an unmistakable glint of curiosity in their eyes. Minerva McGonagall stood near the front, her tartan shawl wrapped tightly around her, her gaze sweeping over the assembled students.
Lily, her green eyes scanning the milling crowd, fidgeted nervously beside Severus. Her dark hair was pulled back in a neat bun, but a stray strand had escaped, reflecting her inner turmoil. "He's not here," she whispered, her voice tight with worry, glancing at the empty stretch of shoreline where Echo was supposed to appear. "Do you think he chickened out at the last minute, Severus?"
Severus, ever stoic, merely grunted, his dark eyes fixed on the murky surface of the lake. "Unlikely. Echo rarely backs down from a challenge, especially one he's set himself."
Minerva McGonagall, overhearing Lily's concern, stepped closer. "Do not fret, Miss Evans," she assured her, her voice firm. "While Mr. Echo has a penchant for dramatic entrances and sometimes, indeed, dramatic exits, he rarely fails to show up for an event of this magnitude. Unless, of course, something genuinely important or… unfortunate has occurred."
Lily's face paled further. "That's precisely the part I'm worried about, Professor. The 'or unfortunate' part."
Just then, a figure burst through the treeline, stumbling slightly as he cleared the last of the bushes. It was Echo, his black hair a wild, disheveled blue, his chest heaving as if he'd run a marathon. He quickly straightened his robes, looking thoroughly winded.
"Sorry, sorry!" he gasped, holding up a hand. "I apologize for being late. I was… distributing the last of my heart-shaped objects to people I care about."
Before anyone could fully process this, a chorus of indignant shouts erupted from behind him. James, Sirius, and Peter came tearing out of the woods, looking ruffled and genuinely annoyed. Remus Lupin followed, looking significantly calmer, but with a faint, bemused smile playing on his lips.
"He chased us!" James hollered, pointing an accusing finger at Echo. "He was throwing rocks at us, Professor McGonagall!"
Minerva raised an eyebrow, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. "Rocks, Mr. Potter?"
Echo, his blue hair settling into a calm, matter-of-fact black, merely shook his head. "I didn't throw rocks, James. I threw heart-shaped objects that just so happened to be rocks. There's a subtle but important distinction."
Sirius, however, wasn't having it. "Then why," he demanded, stepping forward, his voice a mix of outrage and confusion. " Did you throw flowers at Remus when you threw rocks at us?!"
Echo sighed, his black hair flickering with slight exasperation. "Because Remus got heart-shaped flowers, Sirius. You got heart-shaped rocks."
Severus, who had been observing the exchange with a mixture of disdain and growing bewilderment, turned to Lily. "Did you, by any chance, explain to Echo the proper way to give Valentine's gifts?"
Lily shook her head, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. "No, Severus. Why?"
Severus let out a long-suffering sigh. "It explains a great deal, then. It appears Echo has spent the morning going around to everyone he 'likes' – including several professors – yelling 'Heart-shaped object for you!' and then throwing a paper heart or a flower, directly in their faces."
A low chuckle rumbled from the gathered students, quickly joined by the deeper sound of Hagrid's laugh. The half-giant, standing at the back of the crowd, reached up and gently patted a small, crudely cut paper heart that was tangled in his impressive beard. "A little confused, he is," Hagrid said, his voice warm, "but he's got the right spirit, bless 'im."
Minerva McGonagall, reaching into the pocket of her tartan coat, produced a slightly crumpled paper heart. She held it up, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touching her lips. "At least," she said, her voice dry, "it's better than this morning when Mr. Lockhart sent over eighty thousand Valentine's cards to himself and managed to get breakfast canceled in the Great Hall."
James, now fuming not just from being pelted with rocks but from Lockhart's mere mention, clenched his fists. "I'll give you a heart-shaped object, Echo!" he snarled, taking a step forward, his hand instinctively going for his wand.
But before he could act, Gilderoy Lockhart, resplendent in robes of vibrant magenta, pushed James aside with a dismissive flourish. He beamed at Echo, his teeth flashing in an impossibly wide smile. "Are you ready to lose, Echo, my dear boy?" he purred, his voice dripping with condescension.
Echo met his gaze, his black hair blazing with a confident yellow, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face. "Funny," he drawled, his hollow eyes gleaming. "I was just about to ask you the same thing." With that, Echo, before the challenge could officially begin, turned to Lily and Severus, his yellow hair flaring with mischievous delight. "Heart-shaped object for you!" he bellowed, and with surprising force, hurled two perfectly formed, deep red roses, shaped cunningly into hearts, directly at their faces.
Lily let out an exasperated sigh, catching one of the rose-hearts just before it hit her. Her green eyes were fixed on Echo, and she looked profoundly weary. "Honestly, Echo," she muttered, shaking her head. "I think I'd better explain to you the proper way to give a Valentine's gift before you throw whatever you have for Skate directly in her face."
Severus, who had deftly deflected his floral projectile with a flick of his wrist, merely sneered, his dark eyes fixed on the lake. "Even if he does manage to aim properly, Lily," he drawled, his voice dripping with his usual sarcasm, "Skate will undoubtedly think it's some peculiar human tradition, and then, for the next decade, the merfolk will start pelting us with various, increasingly damp and pungent, heart-shaped lake detritus every February fourteenth."
Lockhart, still radiating an aura of self-importance, finally turned his attention to the Black Lake, his gaze sweeping over its dark, uninviting surface. "Well, where are they, then, my dear boy?" he demanded, a hint of impatience in his voice. "Surely they wouldn't want to miss the opportunity to catch a glimmer of my undeniable charm!"
Echo shrugged, his black hair flickering with nonchalance. "I asked Skate to come and invite her mother and some others to join us, but as I said, there's no guarantee. Mermaids are finicky, Lockhart."
Lockhart scoffed, running a hand through his golden hair. "Nonsense! I daresay they're simply building up the anticipation. No doubt they'll surface for a truly magnificent display of talent such as mine!"
"They're intelligent beings, Lockhart, not performing seals," Lily interjected, her voice sharp with irritation. "Echo can't just dangle a fish and expect them to balance a ball on their noses."
Echo chuckled, his black hair brightening to a mischievous yellow. "Actually, I did say that as a joke to Skate once, and she asked to try it. In fact, she did a bunch of cool stuff. That was a fun lakeside date," he sighed, a nostalgic glint in his hollow eyes.
Lockhart, oblivious to the underlying sentiment, beamed. "Well, I hope you enjoyed that memory, Echo, because it will be the last one you have before I win Slate's heart!"
"Skate," Echo corrected, his yellow hair flickering with annoyance. "Her name is Skate. And that's only if they come."
As if on cue, the dark surface of the Black Lake began to stir. Ripples spread outwards, growing larger and larger, until, with a series of gentle splashes, several figures broke the surface. Mermaids, their long, flowing hair shimmering in various shades of green and blue, their tails flashing like iridescent jewels, rose from the depths. They were not merely curious but had an air of regal expectation. At the forefront, her vibrant moonlight hair flowing like a lunar halo, was Skate, her eyes fixed on Echo. A collective gasp of awe swept through the assembled students and teachers.
Echo's face broke into a wide, delighted grin. His yellow hair blazed with pure joy, and he practically vaulted over the edge of the crowd, rushing to the water's edge. "Skate! Happy Valentine's Day! I got you something!" He reached into his robes, his hand closing around a small, weighty object.
"Echo, no! Don't throw it! Just give it to her!" Lily shrieked, her voice frantic, remembering the morning's earlier heart-shaped throwing escapades.
Echo paused, his hand still poised. He looked at Lily, then back at Skate. "I wish you had told me that sooner," he mumbled, deflating slightly. Lily simply buried her face in her hands.
With a more subdued gesture, Echo presented Skate with a small, perfectly carved heart-shaped rock. "It's from the Forbidden Forest," he explained, his voice softer, a hint of pride in his tone. I carved it myself. It took me nine tries before I got it right." He held up his bandaged fingers, revealing nine neatly wrapped digits.
Peter, ever the complainer, whined from the crowd. "So his girlfriend gets a hand-carved rock, and we get rocks that are only fundamentally heart-shaped thrown at us?!"
Echo rolled his eyes, his yellow hair flickering with amusement. "That's how you know how much I care about you, Peter." He then pulled out a small, fancy box. "And here," he said to Skate, offering her the box of chocolates. "But I have to admit, I ate some already. I… I might have a problem."
Skate happily accepted both gifts, her eyes sparkling with delight. She then spoke in the mermaid tongue, a series of melodic clicks and trills, before swiftly downing the box of chocolates, a satisfied hum rumbling in her chest.
Severus, a rare, genuine chuckle escaping his lips, turned to Lily. "I'm almost not surprised," he drawled, a hint of amusement in his dark eyes. "It appears Skate is as much of a chocolate glutton as Echo. No wonder they get along so well."
Lily, her green eyes still fixed on the mermaids, sighed. "I wish I knew what she said."
Echo, his yellow hair now a soft, contented green, beamed at Skate. "She really likes the gifts," he translated, his voice warm.
A sudden realization dawned on Lily. Her eyes widened, and she turned back to Echo. "Wait," she said, her voice laced with surprise. "Echo, can you… Can you speak Mermish?"
Echo shrugged, his green hair flickering with a casual nonchalance. "Of course, I can, Lily. My girlfriend is a mermaid; it only makes sense that I'd pick it up and learn it."
Severus scoffed, a faint, disbelieving frown creasing his brow. "Then why on earth is she communicating in… whatever that was, if she can speak human? You just said a while back that she could."
Echo's green hair flickered with a knowing smile. "She can, Severus. She just doesn't always like to. According to her, speaking human makes her sound… well, to quote her, 'dumb.'" He looked at Skate, a soft, affectionate light in his hollow eyes. "Though I think it's cute."
Skate, hearing Echo's translation, let out a series of shy, melodic clicks and trills, her cheeks flushing a faint, iridescent pink.
Lockhart, who had been observing this exchange with a mixture of annoyance and a desperate attempt to reassert himself, puffed out his chest. "So, the boy speaks Mermish as well, does he? Well, just to let him know, my Mermish is absolutely top-notch! Quite fluent, in fact. One must be well-versed in all magical languages, you understand, especially when one is as widely traveled and acclaimed as I am!" He cleared his throat, preened slightly, and then, with a confident flourish, addressed the mermaids.
He opened his mouth and a series of strained, guttural sounds, punctuated by odd gurgles and splashes, erupted from him. It was a bizarre, almost painful attempt at what he clearly thought was Mermish. The mermaids in the lake looked at him, their heads tilted in a mixture of bewilderment and faint alarm. Echo, too, stared, his green hair slowly shifting to a confused blue.
A thick silence descended upon the gathering. The only sound was the gentle lapping of the lake against the shore. After a moment, one of the students from the back, a Hufflepuff with wide eyes, finally piped up, "Um… what did he say?"
Echo, still looking utterly bewildered, finally shook his head. "I… I honestly don't know," he admitted, his blue hair flickering with genuine confusion. "It was… all gibberish. Like a Hippogriff trying to sing opera. But what I could make out was that he said the horse needed a new tooth for the pickle ball, but her mother cat didn't have a need for a car horn in the banana split."
Skate let out a series of sharp, indignant clicks and trills, her shimmering tail slapping the water with a splash that sent spray arcing towards Lockhart. She pointed a slender, webbed finger at him, her eyes narrowing with unmistakable disdain.
Echo's blue hair flickered, and he nodded. "That's him, Skate," he confirmed, his voice a low rumble. "The one I told you about. The one who thinks he can sing better than me, and steal you away."
Skate responded with another string of rapid-fire Mermish, punctuated by a particularly dismissive gurgle, her gaze still fixed on Lockhart.
Echo's eyes widened, then he burst out laughing, a genuine, booming sound that echoed across the lake. He slapped his knee, tears of mirth streaming down his face, his black hair blazing with pure, unadulterated amusement. "You're right! Oh, you're absolutely right! He does look like an overly groomed, wet Kneazle!"
Lockhart, however, preened, adjusting his magenta robes with a smug smile. "Ah, yes! My impeccable grooming is often remarked upon! Even by the fairer, aquatic creatures of the lake, it seems! It's the secret to my undeniable charm, you see, a careful balance of effortless style and natural good looks. A wet Kneazle, you say? Why, how delightfully… exotic! I shall have to include that in my next autobiography. 'Gilderoy Lockhart: Adored by Mermaids, Compared to Exotic Felines' – it has a certain ring to it, don't you think?"
Echo, still chuckling, wiped his eyes. His black hair flickered with exasperation. "No, Lockhart, she was insulting you! She said You look like—"
"Nonsense, my dear boy!" Lockhart interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. "Modesty prevents me from agreeing outright, but I assure you, her admiration is palpable! A true connoisseur of charm, our little mermaid!" He puffed out his chest even further, beaming at Skate, who was now gripping a slender, three-pronged trident, its silver tines glinting menacingly.
Skate raised the trident slightly, her eyes blazing with a dangerous light.
"No, Skate!" Echo yelped, his amusement vanishing instantly, replaced by a sudden, chilling urgency. He took a step towards the water, his black hair flaring crimson. Then, a terrifying, small tone entered his voice, a cold, predatory edge, and he whispered. "Wait, Skate. Wait until he turns his back."
Lockhart, still basking in his perceived flattery, preened even more. "You see, Echo, my boy? Even the most discerning of mermaids can't resist the Lockhart charm. It's a gift, really, a burden at times, but a gift nonetheless. Perhaps I should consider a new book: 'Mermish Encounters: My Guide to Winning the Hearts of Aquatic Beauties.' It would surely be a bestseller! Why, I remember once, in the Amazon rainforest, I charmed a particularly fierce school of Piranha to do a synchronized swimming routine for me! Quite impressive, actually, though the local natives were utterly baffled. They thought I was a god, of course, but I humbly corrected them. One must remain grounded, even when faced with such overwhelming adoration." He gestured grandly with his wand, inadvertently letting it slip from his fingers. It clattered to the ground with a small, undignified clink.
As Lockhart bent to retrieve his wand, a silver blur whizzed past his back with incredible speed. WHIZZZZZZZZ! The three-pronged trident, hurled with surprising force, embedded itself deep into a sturdy oak tree behind him, quivering violently. A collective gasp, quickly followed by a scattering of screams, tore through the assembled crowd. Students jumped, some clutching their chests, others ducking instinctively. Even Minerva McGonagall stiffened, her hand flying to her own wand.
James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, who had been openly scoffing at Lockhart, suddenly looked wide-eyed. Sirius, recovering from the initial shock, nudged James and whispered urgently, "Note to self, and everyone else: never, ever prank Skate. And watch out for her."
Lockhart, frozen in a half-bent position, slowly straightened, his face pale with shock. He spun around, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and bewilderment. Just as he turned, Echo snapped his fingers, a sound that seemed to Echo in the sudden, tense silence.
"Darnit! So close," Echo drawled, his crimson hair blazing with a triumphant, dangerous light. He paused, then, realizing the situation and the teachers' shocked faces, quickly corrected himself, forcing a strained, unconvincing frown onto his face. "Uh-I mean, Skate! Really, that was entirely uncalled for! We do not throw sharp objects at students, no matter how… irritating they may be."
Skate, still partially submerged in the lake, managed to conjure a look of profound regret, though her eyes twinkled with ill-concealed amusement. She gave a faint, almost imperceptible shrug.
Echo leaned in towards the mermaid, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "Do you have a spare one, by any chance?"
Skate shook her head, her moonlight hair swaying. "No."
Lockhart, however, seemed to have already put the Trident incident behind him. Sweeping over the group of mermaids, his eyes suddenly widened as he caught sight of a particularly regal figure. Her hair was a cascade of deep sea green, adorned with shells and pearls. She exuded an aura of quiet power, her gaze calm and assessing.
"Ah, Queen Thalassa !" Lockhart exclaimed, bowing with an extravagant flourish, his voice booming with forced charm. "Gilderoy Lockhart, at your service! I daresay you've heard of my many exploits – particularly my work with the Grindylows of the Black Lake. Truly a perilous endeavor, but one I undertook with my usual blend of bravery and dazzling wit, if I do say so myself!"
Queen Thalassa merely rolled her eyes, a slow, deliberate gesture that conveyed an entire ocean of disdain. She exchanged a look with Skate, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touching her lips.
Echo, his crimson hair now a curious blue, turned to Skate. "Her name is Thalassa ?" he whispered, genuinely surprised.
Lockhart, overhearing, preened. "Indeed, my dear boy! A name well-known in distinguished circles! It seems, despite your supposed closeness with her daughter, you don't even know the Mermaid Queen's name! A rather glaring oversight, wouldn't you say? It speaks volumes about the depth of your… relationship!" He puffed out his chest, a smug, triumphant grin on his face. "Hardly the foundation for a lasting romance, I should think!"
Echo's blue hair immediately flared a panicked, vibrant pink. He scrambled forward, almost tripping over his own feet, and fell to one knee before Queen Thalassa, his eyes wide with genuine distress. "Queen Thalassa! Your Majesty! I—I am so incredibly sorry! The first time we met, I was so caught off guard that I was focused on making sure Skate was alright, and I completely forgot to ask your name! I swear, I never meant to be disrespectful! I always just referred to you as 'the Queen' or 'Her Majesty' or 'Skate's mom' in my head because I didn't know how else to address you, and it felt rude to just ask after the fact! And… and I'm also so sorry I haven't come to visit you again like I promised! Things have been really crazy here, honestly, they have! And now… now our second meeting has to be… like this!" His voice was a desperate, pleading rush, his pink hair almost glowing with mortification.
Queen Thalassa watched Echo with a serene, almost unreadable expression, her deep sea-green hair swaying gently. Then she turned her gaze to Skate and spoke in a series of melodic yet firm clicks and trills that resonated with authority. Skate listened, her eyes widening slightly, then she nodded, a faint blush spreading across her iridescent cheeks.
The Queen then turned back to Echo, her calm gaze meeting his panicked pink one. She spoke in a series of deep, resonant clicks and trills, her voice surprisingly powerful, yet laced with a hint of amusement. Echo listened, his pink hair slowly returning to a nervous blue as he processed her words.
Just as Queen Thalassa finished speaking, a familiar, cheerful voice boomed from the back of the crowd. "My apologies for my tardiness! A delightful, if somewhat overenthusiastic, swarm of pixies decided to redecorate my office with pineapple tarts."
Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling, and his long, silver beard gleaming in the weak sunlight. Minerva McGonagall, her severe expression softening slightly at his arrival, immediately turned to him.
"Albus," she said, her voice low, "you speak Mermish, do you not? What did Queen Merope say to her daughter? And to Mr. Echo?"
Dumbledore chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound. "Indeed, Minerva, I do." His eyes twinkled mischievously. "To her daughter, she simply said that Skate had chosen wisely, and that she approved of her choice of companion." He then looked at Echo, who was still kneeling, his blue hair now a calm, if slightly sheepish, black. "And as for young Echo," Dumbledore continued, his voice laced with amusement, "the Queen finds his honesty… rather endearing, it seems. She appreciates a man who isn't afraid to own up to his mistakes, particularly when those mistakes involve forgetting the name of royalty." He paused, a wider smile spreading across his face. "She also mentioned that she would, indeed, be amenable to a less public encounter next time. Perhaps a quiet chat over kelp tea?"
Echo, thoroughly mortified but also immensely relieved, slowly rose to his feet.
Hagrid, who had been listening intently from the back, let out a soft huff of surprise. "Never thought I'd see the day," he rumbled, scratching his beard. "The Queen o' the merfolk takin' such a likin' to a land dweller, especially one who throws heart-shaped rocks! Maybe we can finally start getting along, eh?"
Lockhart, ever eager to regain the spotlight, clapped his hands together, his magenta robes rustling with the motion. "Excellent, excellent! Now that introductions are over and the pleasantries exchanged, shall we begin the competition? I daresay the anticipation is simply electrifying!" He puffed out his chest, his gaze sweeping over the assembled crowd.
Echo merely rolled his eyes, his black hair flickering with a resigned blue. "By all means, Lockhart. You first. I wouldn't want to steal your thunder."
Lockhart beamed, clearly taking this as a sign of Echo's apprehension. He struck a dramatic pose at the water's edge, his wand held aloft. With a flourish, he cast a Sonorus Charm upon himself, and his voice, already booming, swelled to fill the entire area around the lake. Then, he began to sing.
It was, undeniably, a beautiful voice. Rich, clear, and perfectly modulated, it wove a tapestry of sound that spoke of love, heroism, and self-sacrificing deeds—all, of course, featuring Gilderoy Lockhart as the central figure. He sang of vanquishing beasts with a smile, of saving damsels in distress, of a heart so pure and golden it could melt even the coldest of glaciers. The enchanting melody, combined with his undeniably handsome features, had the crowd on land absolutely captivated. By the time he hit his final, soaring note, a hush had fallen over the students and teachers. Then, a thunderous round of applause erupted, hands clapping, shouts of "Bravo!" echoing through the air. Lockhart, basking in the adoration, bowed deeply, then turned, a triumphant smirk on his face, to the mermaids. Their expressions, however, were not of awe, but rather a spectrum of unimpressed stares, ranging from mild boredom to outright disdain. Skate, in particular, looked as though she was actively trying to stifle a yawn.
Lockhart's smile faltered only slightly. "Ah, I see!" he declared, his voice still loud from the charm. "My voice is so utterly beautiful, so profoundly moving, that you mermaids are simply stunned into silence, unable to react! A truly powerful effect, wouldn't you agree, Echo?"
As if in answer, one of the mermaids, a stern-faced individual with hair the color of deep kelp, suddenly leaned forward and spat a powerful jet of water directly at Lockhart, hitting him squarely in the face. A few muffled snorts of laughter escaped the land-dwellers, quickly followed by outright guffaws from the Marauders.
Lockhart spluttered, wiping the water from his face with a magenta-sleeved hand. His triumphant expression was now replaced by one of bewildered indignation.
Echo, his blue hair flickering with a knowing smirk, took a step forward. "No need to translate for him, Lockhart," he drawled, his voice carrying clearly even without a charm. "I think everyone got the answer."
Lockhart bristled, his eyes narrowing. "Very well, Echo," he snapped, regaining a fraction of his composure. "Let's see if you can do any better. Go on, then. Impress these… discerning critics, if you can."
Echo took a deep breath, his black hair settling into a determined blue. He walked to the water's edge, positioning himself a few feet from where the mermaids floated. He cleared his throat, then glanced back at Professor Flitwick, offering a small, confident nod. Flitwick, beaming, gave a discreet flick of his wand.
With a soft, almost imperceptible hum, a mandolin began to strum a gentle, rhythmic intro. The cheerful plucking of a banjo and the steady, comforting beat of a small drum quickly joined it. The enchanted instruments, seemingly playing themselves, established a lively, almost whimsical tempo. As the music picked up, Echo closed his eyes for a moment, taking another deep breath.
When he opened them, they were fixed on Skate, a soft, loving light in their hollow depths. His blue hair blazed with the warmth and genuine affection of gold and pink. He began to sing, his voice, though still rough around the edges and far from perfect, carried a raw, earnest emotion that transcended any technical imperfections.
"There is a flower within my heart
Daisy, Daisy
Planted one day by a glancing dart
Planted by Daisy Bell.
Whether she loves me or loves me not
Sometimes it's hard to tell
Yet I am longing to share the lot
Of beautiful Daisy Bell.
Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do!
I'm half crazy, all for the love of you!
It won't be a stylish marriage,
I can't afford a carriage,
But you'll look sweet upon the seat.
Of a bicycle built for two!"
He poured his heart into every word, his eyes never leaving Skate's. His voice, though not beautiful, was undeniably sincere, filled with a warmth and devotion that reached across the water. The students on the shore watched, some with expressions of surprise, others with a growing understanding. His friends, however, were beaming. Lily had a hand clasped over her mouth, her eyes shining, while Amos was practically vibrating with silent pride.
As he reached the midpoint, a few of the mermaids, captivated by the heartfelt delivery, began to hum along, their melodic voices weaving a soft, ethereal harmony with his. Skate, her moonlight hair shimmering, watched him with wide, lovestruck eyes and a beatific smile on her face. Queen Merope, her earlier disdain for Lockhart forgotten, wore a gentle, appreciative smile, her gaze warm as she watched her daughter and Echo.
"We will go tandem as man and wife
Daisy, Daisy
Pedaling away down the road of life
I and my Daisy Bell
When the road's dark, we can both despise
Policemen and lamps as well
There are bright lights in the dazzling eyes
Of beautiful Daisy Bell
Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do!
I'm half crazy, all for the love of you!
It won't be a stylish marriage,
I can't afford a carriage,
But you'll look sweet upon the seat.
Of a bicycle built for two!"
Echo finished, a little breathless, his face flushed, his blue hair now a soft, contented green. A profound silence fell over the lakeside. On the shore, a few scattered claps erupted—Lily, Amos, Frank, Remus, and to everyone's astonishment, even Severus offered a quiet, almost imperceptible tap of his hands. Hell, even the other three Marauders looked impressed but didnt clap. Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore, Hagrid, and Professor Flitwick also clapped, their expressions warm with approval.
But then, the lake erupted. The mermaids, a shimmering explosion of green and blue, cheered and clapped with unrestrained enthusiasm, their tails splashing, their melodic cries of approval filling the air. Skate, in a burst of joy, propelled herself forward, leaning over and planting a soft, wet kiss directly on Echo's cheek. Lockhart, along with many of the other students and a few of the more reserved teachers, stood utterly stunned, their faces masks of bewildered surprise.
Echo, still beaming, carefully lifted Skate out of the water, holding her gently in his arms as she pressed a second, even softer kiss to his cheek. His green hair pulsed with pure, unadulterated happiness.
Then, Queen Thalassa spoke, her voice a series of deep, resonant clicks and trills. Echo's smile faltered, his green hair flickering to a confused blue, his brow furrowing slightly.
"Echo? What's wrong?" Lily asked, stepping closer, her voice laced with concern.
Echo blinked, looking genuinely bewildered. "The Queen said something… weird."
"What did she say?" Lily pressed.
Echo shook his head. "All she said was… approve."
Queen Thalassa then spoke again, a longer, more elaborate series of Mermish sounds. Echo listened intently, his blue hair shifting to an even deeper, more puzzled indigo.
"And now she says… she blesses," Echo translated, his voice trailing off, a faint, almost imperceptible blush rising on his cheeks. "But I'm not sure what that… what that actually… means…"
Echo's brain seemed to buffer, a silent, internal free-form jazz melody playing out in his mind. His eyes widened, his blue hair suddenly blazing a mortified, vibrant pink.
"Oh," Echo breathed, the realization finally hitting him. A deep, scarlet blush spread across his face, making his pink hair seem pale in comparison.
A collective gasp rippled through the onlookers. Several students, having picked up on the gist of the conversation, stared, their mouths agape, eyes wide with shock at the Queen's unexpected declaration. Even Severus's perpetually sneering expression seemed to soften into one of utter disbelief.
Echo, almost freaking out and nearly dropping Skate back into the lake, quickly stammered, "Queen Thalassa! Your Majesty! I… I am so incredibly honored that you would… that you would say that, truly! But… but we're a bit too young for that right now. Definitely in the future! Definitely!" He gave a frantic, reassuring nod, his pink hair practically vibrating with embarrassment.
Just then, the distinct click of a camera shutter cut through the stunned silence. Echo's head snapped up. There, at the edge of the crowd, a young Hufflepuff student with sharp, knowing eyes and a camera held aloft was Rita Skeeter, the head editor of the Hogwarts Daily Prophet.
"Rita Skeeter!" Echo yelled, his voice a desperate, horrified plea, his pink hair flaring a violent, indignant red. "Don't you dare take that out of context and put that in the paper!"
Rita Skeeter merely cackled, a triumphant, malicious sound that sent a shiver down Echo's spine. "Too late, my dear boy! Far, far too late! This is front-page news! 'Hogwarts Student Betrothed to Mermaid Queen's Daughter! Royal Wedding Bells for the Black Lake and Beyond!' Oh, the headlines practically write themselves! And just imagine the exclusive interviews with the happy couple! The Queen herself! My quill is practically quivering with anticipation!" She snapped another photo, her camera flashing brightly.
Echo then yells, his voice dripping with venom, "If you dare do that, Rita Skeeter, I will personally see to it that Cornish pixie pheromones find their way into your shampoo bottle!"
He stopped, his red hair flickering to a horrified orange as he realized he'd just bellowed this threat in front of Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, and several other teachers. He quickly cleared his throat, forcing a strained smile. "But of course," he added, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper only for Rita, "I'll find a more… subtle method, one that no professor would ever detect."
Rita Skeeter merely cackled, ignoring the threat. Lockhart, however, puffed out his chest, stepping forward. "Yes, yes, front page news indeed!" he exclaimed, beaming at Rita. "But perhaps, for the sake of journalistic integrity, you might consider a slight alteration? My face, of course, on the front! Not… not Echo's. And as for the rest," he turned to Echo, his smile tightening, "I demand a recount! A redo of the votes, as it were! Clearly, there was some sort of… magical interference. My performance was objectively superior!"
Echo rolled his eyes, his pink hair settling into a calm, dismissive blue. "Lockhart," he drawled, "a zero added to itself is still zero. A zero multiplied by itself is still zero. You started with nothing, and you ended with nothing."
Skate, still in Echo's arms, giggled, a series of melodic clicks and trills that were surprisingly clear and full of mirth.
Lockhart bristled, his face reddening. "Ah, but what about division, Echo? What then? A zero divided by itself could be… anything!"
Echo stared at him, his blue hair flickering with utter disbelief. "Do you honestly understand how profoundly dumb that question is, Lockhart?" He shook his head. "Just get to the point."
Lockhart, ignoring the insult, practically shrieked, his voice rising in indignation. "The point, my dear boy, is this! Why, in Merlin's beard, did the mermaids prefer your… your utterly subpar, tone-deaf warbling to my perfectly modulated, angelically beautiful, exquisitely performed melody?! It defies all logic! All musical appreciation! I demand to know why!"
Dumbledore, who had been observing the entire exchange with a calm, almost serene expression, stepped forward, his long, silver beard swaying gently. He placed a gentle, reassuring hand on Lockhart's shoulder.
"My dear Gilderoy," Dumbledore began, his voice soft yet carrying a profound weight that instantly drew the attention of everyone present, "you raise a most excellent question. One that delves into the very essence of the merfolk, and indeed, into the nature of genuine connection."
Lockhart, still fuming, bristled slightly under Dumbledore's touch, but the Headmaster's tone compelled him to listen.
"Mermaids, Gilderoy," Dumbledore continued, his blue eyes twinkling with ancient wisdom, "are unique creatures, not solely for their appearance, as beautiful and diverse as it may be. Their uniqueness lies in a far more profound ability: they can see beyond the surface. They possess an innate gift for discerning what lies within a person's heart and mind. You see, Gilderoy, you can never truly lie to a mermaid. They will always know."
A ripple of murmurs went through the crowd as Dumbledore paused, his gaze sweeping over the assembled students and teachers.
"While your voice, Gilderoy," Dumbledore resumed, turning back to Lockhart, "was undeniably beautiful, perfectly modulated, and indeed, very good… the mermaids knew. They knew that you were not singing simply to sing, nor were you singing for their entertainment, or even for the heart of the fair Skate. You were, in fact, singing primarily for yourself. To bask in your own perceived glory, to inflate your already considerable ego."
Lockhart opened his mouth to protest, but Dumbledore held up a hand, a gentle but firm gesture that brooked no interruption.
"Echo, on the other hand," Dumbledore said, his gaze shifting to the young boy, a warm, almost paternal smile gracing his lips, "while his voice was perhaps… not quite award-worthy…"
"That's the nicest way anyone has ever told me I don't completely suck, Professor," Echo cut in, a genuine, albeit slightly surprised, grin spreading across his face, his blue hair flickering with amusement.
Dumbledore chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "Indeed, my boy. But it is true. Your voice, while perhaps not reaching the heights of vocal perfection, held something far more precious. You sang with your whole heart, Echo. You sang for the mermaids, for their delight, and specifically, for the genuine affection you hold for Skate. You were not singing to win a competition, nor were you singing for personal gain or adoration. You were singing with pure, unadulterated sincerity. And that, Gilderoy, is a melody that mermaids, with their unique gift, can truly appreciate and respond to."
Lockhart, his face a furious shade of magenta, scoffed. "Preposterous! A song, however heartfelt, is but one arrow in the quiver of a truly charming individual! If a mere melody will not sway her, then my pure, unadulterated charm and expertly crafted words shall surely prevail!" He puffed out his chest, completely undeterred, and began to stride towards the water's edge.
Echo, with a gentle smile, carefully placed Skate back into the Black Lake. She floated gracefully, her moonlight hair fanning out around her, her eyes fixed on Echo. As Lockhart approached, she tilted her head, an air of amused curiosity about her.
"Ah, my dear, enchanting mermaid!" Lockhart boomed, extending a hand as if to offer a delicate caress, though he wisely kept a respectful distance from her trident-wielding kin. "Gilderoy Lockhart, at your service! I must say, your beauty is simply unparalleled! Your shimmering scales, your exquisite hair, your… your undeniably aquatic grace! Why, you put even the most dazzling of sea-nymphs to shame! A true pearl among the kelp, if I may be so bold!" He winked, flashing his impossibly white teeth. "Such a vision of loveliness should not be confined to the murky depths of a lake, my dear! Come, let me whisk you away to a world of endless adoration, of exclusive interviews, and perhaps even a chapter dedicated solely to your mesmerizing allure in my next bestseller!"
Skate stared at him, her expression unchanging; a single, slow blink was her only reaction. Then, she let out a series of short, sharp clicks and trills that, even to those who didn't speak Mermish, clearly conveyed utter disinterest, if not outright contempt. She then turned her back on Lockhart, casually flicking her iridescent tail, sending a spray of water directly into his face.
Lockhart spluttered, wiping his face with his sleeve, his meticulously coiffed hair now dripping. "Well! I never!" he exclaimed, a mixture of shock and indignation on his face.
Echo, his blue hair flickering with a triumphant, mischievous yellow, stepped forward, gently nudging Lockhart aside. "Alright, Lockhart," he drawled, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Move over. Let a professional show you how it's done." He cleared his throat, then, with a simple, slightly dopey smile, looked directly at Skate. "I love you," he said, his voice soft but clear, devoid of any pretense or grandiosity.
Skate immediately went rigid, her moonlight hair seeming to stand on end. Her eyes widened, her cheeks flushing a deep, iridescent pink. She began to saw back and forth in the water, her tail thrashing gently, a series of embarrassed, melodic clicks and trills escaping her lips. She waved a webbed hand at him, as if to say, 'Oh, stop it, you!' A beatific, almost giddy smile bloomed on her face, and she ducked her head, clearly flustered and utterly delighted.
Lockhart, completely missing the genuine affection and the mermaid's reaction, scoffed. "Preposterous! Such blatant favoritism! My dear creature, be honest with yourself! Who would you rather be seen with? A world-renowned wizard, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, a man of unparalleled elegance and sophistication, or"—he pointed a disdainful finger at Echo—"that… that unkempt, scruffy boy who clearly has no idea how to conduct himself in polite society?"
Skate looked from the beaming, if slightly flustered, Lockhart to Echo, who, in a moment of absentmindedness, had begun to lick the tip of his wand, only to yelp in surprise as a small jolt of residual magic shocked his tongue. He shook his head, then, after a brief moment of recovery, resumed licking the wand tip with a thoughtful expression. Skate's eyes, wide with amusement, finally settled on Echo. Lockhart, still utterly convinced of his own irresistible charm, extended a hand to Skate, a grand, expectant gesture. He seemed to genuinely believe she would choose him, that his outstretched fingers would be met with an eager, delicate touch. Skate, however, merely smiled back at him, a slow, wide, chillingly evil baring of teeth that sent an involuntary shiver down the spines of several onlookers.
"That's not a good smile," Echo whispered to himself, a hint of genuine unease in his voice, his blue hair flickering with mild apprehension.
Even Lily, usually so composed, nudged Severus, her green eyes wide with alarm. "She's going to drown him, Severus," she whispered, a grim certainty in her tone.
Severus, a rare, almost pleased smirk on his lips, merely shrugged. "At least the Grindylows will have a good meal," he drawled, his dark eyes fixed on the unfolding drama.
Even Dumbledore, sensing the imminent danger, took a step forward, a gentle warning forming on his lips. "Gilderoy, perhaps it would be wise to—!"
But he was too late. With a speed that belied her serene appearance, Skate lunged. She grabbed Lockhart's outstretched arm, spun him around with surprising force, and then, with a powerful heave, flung him clear of the water. Lockhart, a blue and golden blur, soared through the air, letting out a high-pitched shriek before landing with an undignified CRASH in the branches of a nearby oak tree, where he hung, tangled and disheveled.
A stunned silence fell over the gathered crowd. Every eye, from the students to the professors, was fixed on the sight of the self-proclaimed hero dangling helplessly from the tree.
"HA!" Echo crowed, a triumphant, unadulterated burst of laughter escaping him, his blue hair blazing with delight.
But his victory was short-lived. Skate, her evil smile now softened into a playful grin, reached out and grabbed Echo, pulling him off his feet with a powerful tug. Echo let out a yelp of surprise as he was dragged towards the water. Simultaneously, the other mermaids, their faces alight with amusement, dove back into the murky depths, leaving only ripples on the surface. Before he was fully submerged, Shimmer, with a graceful leap, sprang from Echo's shoulder and landed with a soft thump on Severus's shoulder, its silver fur rippling with a hint of its usual mischief. Sniffles, with a nervous squeak, launched itself from Echo's pocket and burrowed into the comforting folds of Lily's arms.
As he was pulled under, Echo, still clinging precariously to the last vestiges of air, turned his head towards the flailing Lockhart, who was still trying to untangle himself from the tree branches. "See ya later, loser!" Echo yelled, his voice muffled by the water. "I'm gonna go mermaid smooching with my girlfriend!"
Before his head disappeared completely beneath the surface, Minerva McGonagall's sharp voice cut through the air. "Mr. Echo!" she called out, a hint of exasperation in her tone.
Echo let out a dramatic sigh, bubbles rising to the surface. "Let me guess," he said, his voice now a mere gurgle. "Detention for throwing heart-shaped objects at James, Sirius, and Peter?"
"Precisely, Mr. Echo," Minerva confirmed, her lips twitching with a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
"Fair enough," Echo conceded, just before he was completely pulled under, disappearing from sight into the dark waters of the Black Lake.