The Great Hall buzzed with the familiar cacophony of hundreds of students, the air thick with the aroma of roasted meats and pumpkin juice. Echo, nestled comfortably at his usual, slightly apart table at the very back, felt a profound sense of peace settle over him. Around him, the comforting presences of his friends were a balm to his recently battered emotions. Amos, ever the cheerful eater, was already halfway through a mountain of mashed potatoes, occasionally offering a gentle pat to Echo's arm. Severus, looking considerably less bruised and remarkably more subdued than he had been a few hours ago, was picking at his plate with a surprisingly delicate fork. Frank, jovial and bright, was regaling Lily with a tale of his summer adventures, making her laugh with genuine mirth. Lily, her red hair a vibrant splash of color, was listening with an easy smile, occasionally glancing at Echo with a knowing, affectionate look.
Shimmer, a faint, almost invisible presence, was flitting around the ceiling, occasionally diving to snatch a stray crumb from the floor that no one else seemed to notice. Sniffles, having already made a quick, efficient circuit under the other house tables, was happily burbling in Echo's pocket, a few suspiciously shiny buttons protruding from his already bulging pouches.
Echo, for his part, was utterly engrossed in a particularly succulent pork chop, savoring the taste and the feeling of normalcy. A wave of nostalgia, sweet and melancholic, washed over him. This was where he belonged, with them. This was his anchor in the turbulent seas of his life. He smiled, a genuine, unburdened smile that reached his eyes, and took another bite of his chop.
Suddenly, a sharp tink echoed through the vast hall, cutting through the chatter like a knife. Dumbledore, standing at the head table, had tapped his fork against his goblet, his eyes twinkling as he surveyed the now-silent students.
"Welcome!" Dumbledore's voice boomed, amplified by magic, filling every corner of the room. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I see many eager faces, ready to embark on a journey of learning, discovery, and perhaps a little healthy competition." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the students, a mischievous glint in his eye. "This year, however, we have a truly special treat in store. After a long hiatus, I am delighted to announce that Hogwarts will once again be hosting the Triwizard Tournament!"
A collective gasp rippled through the Great Hall, quickly followed by a tidal wave of excited whispers and fervent chatter. Students leaned forward, eyes wide, expressions a mix of awe and unbridled anticipation. The energy in the room shifted, crackling with a sudden, electrifying excitement.
Echo, still blissfully chewing his pork chop, oblivious to the sudden change in atmosphere, looked up from his plate. He glanced at Amos, then Severus, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"Hey," he mumbled, his mouth still full. "Am I just hearing things, or did Dumbledore just say something about a… a three-way?"
Severus, who had winced visibly at Dumbledore's announcement, let out an exasperated sigh. "No, Echo, you dolt," he corrected, his voice sharper than usual. "He said the Triwizard Tournament."
Echo blinked, tilting his head. "Tri-wickle what now?"
Lily, her initial shock giving way to a bright-eyed enthusiasm, turned to Echo, her voice brimming with excitement. "The Triwizard Tournament, Echo! It's an ancient, magical competition between the three largest wizarding schools in Europe: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang! Three champions, one from each school, compete in three incredibly dangerous tasks for eternal glory and a thousand Galleons!"
Echo chewed thoughtfully, his blue hair flickering with a brief, excited green at the prospect of "incredibly dangerous tasks" and "eternal glory." For a fleeting five seconds, a mischievous glint entered his eyes. A thousand Galleons? And a chance to show off some truly spectacular magic? He mused. That sounds like my kind of chaos!
Then, a grimace replaced his grin. His green hair faded to a wary, almost sullen indigo. "Nah," he said, shaking his head. "I'm good with my own brand of chaos. This 'Triwizard Tournament' sounds like the kind of chaos that gets you locked up in Azkaban or, worse, on the front page of the Daily Prophet for 'irreversible property damage.'"
Lily laughed, a bright, reassuring sound. "Don't be daft, Echo," she said, gently nudging his arm. Her red hair bounced with her amusement. "You have nothing to worry about. The tournament is only open to seventh-year students. You're far too young to participate."
Echo's indigo hair immediately softened to a profound, relieved blue. "Oh," he said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Right. Good. Excellent. Well, in that case!" He grabbed another pork chop, diving back into his meal with renewed gusto, the previous five seconds of chaotic ambition completely forgotten.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he surveyed the eager faces, allowing the excited chatter to simmer for a moment before tapping his goblet again. "The Triwizard Tournament is a grand tradition, and a magnificent opportunity for international magical cooperation and healthy rivalry." He paused, his gaze growing a little more serious. "Tomorrow, we will welcome our esteemed guests from the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and the Durmstrang Institute. I expect each and every one of you to extend them the warmth and hospitality that Hogwarts is renowned for. Treat them with decency and respect, for they are our friends and fellow students of magic, and their stay with us should be nothing short of pleasant. Any breach of this expectation will be dealt with severely." He then offered a benevolent smile, his eyes softening. "Now, enough talk! Tuck in! There are still many delights to be had this evening." With a final, cheerful twinkle, he gestured, and the Great Hall immediately returned to its lively buzz, the aroma of food filling the air once again as students eagerly resumed their meals, their conversations now peppered with excited anticipation for the morrow's arrivals.
The following morning dawned crisp and clear, a perfect autumn day that promised excitement. During breakfast, the air in the Great Hall thrummed with almost unbearable anticipation. Even the usually stoic portraits seemed to be whispering amongst themselves. Echo, despite his earlier dismissal of the tournament, found himself caught up in some of the infectious energy. His blue hair pulsed with a curious, almost eager light as he finished off a plate of sausages.
Dumbledore, once again at the head table, rose to address the school, his smile broader than usual. "My dear students, the moment we have all been waiting for has arrived! Our esteemed guests from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and the Durmstrang Institute will soon be gracing us with their presence. I invite you all to gather outside, on the front lawn, to extend them a most warm and magical Hogwarts welcome!"
A thunderous cheer erupted, and students practically stampeded from the Great Hall, eager to secure the best vantage points. Echo, Amos, Lily, Frank, and Severus followed at a more sedate pace, eventually finding a spot near the front, amidst the throngs of other students.
The morning sun glinted off the distant horizon when the first sign of their visitors appeared. A magnificent, enormous carriage, drawn by a dozen immense, cream-colored Abraxan horses with feathered wings, soared gracefully through the sky. It descended slowly, its golden body gleaming, and landed with a soft thud on the perfectly manicured lawn. The carriage doors swung open, and a line of elegant students, dressed in pale blue silks, emerged, their movements fluid and graceful. At their head stood Madame Maxime, the half-giantess headmistress of Beauxbatons, her imposing figure radiating an air of dignified authority.
A collective gasp of awe rippled through the Hogwarts crowd. Echo, however, had a different reaction. His blue hair flickered with a sudden, mischievous green, and his eyes lit up with a dangerous, calculating glint. He watched the Abraxan horses, their powerful wings beating rhythmically, and then the sturdy carriage, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face.
"A flying carriage," he murmured, almost to himself, his voice thick with unvoiced ideas. "And giant winged horses… fascinating."
Severus, who had been observing Echo with a growing sense of unease, immediately recognized that look. He nudged Echo sharply with his elbow, his voice a low, warning hiss. "Don't you dare, Echo. Don't even think about it."
Echo merely chuckled, a dark, self-satisfied sound. His green hair pulsed, almost vibrating with suppressed excitement. "Think about what, Sev? I'm not thinking anything… yet." He then paused, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "But I am wondering if a carriage could be attached to Wick. She's a rather large dragon, after all. And with enough enchanted anti-gravity charms, it could be quite… aerodynamic."
Before Severus could respond with the scathing retort he was no doubt formulating, the attention of the crowd shifted. The surface of the Great Lake, usually placid and still, began to roil. A massive whirlpool formed in the center, churning violently, and from its depths, a truly imposing ship slowly rose, its dark, sleek hull dripping with water. It was the Durmstrang ship, a vessel that looked more like a warship than a school transport, its shadowed decks filled with burly, fur-clad students. At its prow stood Igor Karkaroff, the headmasHeadmasterharp features and shifty eyes surveying the assembled Hogwarts students.
As the Durmstrang ship emerged fully from the lake, a wave of unease rippled through Echo and Amos. Both boys instinctively took a step back, their faces grim, their blue hair darkening to a concerned indigo.
Frank, noticing their sudden discomfort, looked at them, his brow furrowed. "What's wrong, you two? You look like you've seen a Grindylow."
Echo and Amos exchanged a look, a shared concern passing between them. "It's… It's just the lake," Amos finally said, his voice a little strained. "They just came out of the lake."
"Yeah," Echo added, his indigo hair pulsing with genuine worry. "I just hope the mermaids don't get scared or offended by this. They're basically trespassing through the mer-village, aren't they?"
Amos nodded gravely. "Especially since it's the Queen's domain. Mermaids don't take kindly to unannounced visitors, let alone large, noisy ships."
Echo ran a hand through his hair, his indigo deepening to a troubled black. "I just hope Dumbledore at least warned the mermaids about this," he muttered, his gaze fixed on the Durmstrang ship. "And asked for permission for them to pass through the lake. I'd hate to think how Skate and her mother, the Queen, would react to such a blatant disregard for their territory." He shivered, a sudden chill unrelated to the autumn air running down his spine. The wrath of the merpeople, especially the Queen, was not something to be taken lightly.
Dumbledore stepped forward to greet Madame Maxime with a wide, welcoming smile. "Madame Maxime, it is a true delight to have you and your accomplished students grace our humble halls once more!" he boomed, his eyes twinkling.
Madame Maxime, her deep voice resonant, returned the greeting. "Albus, always so charming. It is indeed a pleasure to be back at Hogwarts. And I must say, your grounds are as exquisite as ever." As they exchanged these pleasantries, the Durmstrang ship finally reached the shore, its massive hull scraping against the bank with a soft thud. Ropes were expertly thrown, and the burly Durmstrang students began to secure them, their movements precise and efficient.
"We have brought a special treat this year, Albus," Madame Maxime announced, a hint of pride in her voice, as she gestured back to her carriage. "A group of our finest Veela. They will be acting as cheerleaders for our champion and for all of Beauxbatons throughout the tournament."
As if on cue, the doors of the carriage swung open once more. A vision of ethereal beauty descended, a group of young women with cascades of shimmering, golden hair and eyes that sparkled like precious jewels. Dressed in flowing, iridescent gowns, they moved with an enchanting grace, their every step radiating an almost palpable allure. A collective gasp swept through the Hogwarts crowd, and a low murmur of awe spread, particularly among the male students, who seemed instantly captivated, their faces slack with admiration.
Echo, too, was in awe, his blue hair flaring with a sudden, intense green. But his fascination was of a different kind. He watched the Veela, his eyes narrowed, a strange mix of curiosity and scientific observation in his gaze. Before he could move, Severus, ever vigilant, grabbed his arm with a surprisingly strong grip.
"Don't you dare, Echo," Severus hissed, his voice low and urgent. "Don't run off, you fool. You're not going to flirt with them."
Echo pulled against Severus's grip. "Flirt with them? Severus, come on! I have Skate! The mermaid princess, remember? I'm not romantically interested in them, even if they are strikingly beautiful. I just want to ask them some questions."
"Questions can wait," Severus insisted, tightening his hold. "You can talk to them later."
But Echo was already making a decision. His green hair pulsed, and he linked with Shimmer, a silent command passing between them. With a subtle shimmer, Echo's form blurred, and he vanished, becoming completely invisible. Severus groaned, releasing the empty space where Echo's arm had been.
Echo reappeared a few yards closer to the Beauxbatons delegation, almost at the edge of the Veela group. He noticed something else, too. Amongst the taller, more mature Veela, there was one much younger, her movements slightly less refined, her features still holding a hint of childish roundness. She couldn't have been much older than Echo himself.
He chose one of the older Veela, a woman whose golden hair seemed to catch every available ray of sunlight. His blue hair settled into a curious, appreciative green as he materialized fully, his presence startling a few of the nearby Hogwarts students who hadn't noticed his earlier disappearance. He approached the Veela with a deferential bow, a genuine look of awe on his face.
"Excuse me," Echo began, his voice surprisingly gentle. "I just wanted to say… You are incredibly pretty. And weird."
The Veela, her shimmering eyes widening slightly, offered a soft, musical laugh. "Merci, little one," she said, her voice like wind chimes, tinged with a thick, melodious French accent. "I appreciate ze compliment, but… 'weird'? If you please, define 'weird.'"
Echo's green hair pulsed thoughtfully. "Well," he explained, gesturing vaguely, "it's just… you're not related to humans, right? Like, at all? But you look so much like us, only… shinier. It's truly fascinating. Other humanoid beings, like hags, always give off the sense that they're not quite what they seem. But you… You're just so effortlessly human-like, yet distinctly not. It's a very unique kind of weird, in the best possible way, of course."
The Veela giggled again, a harmonious sound like wind chimes catching a gentle breeze. "That is indeed the most... unique statement on our appearance we have ever received, little one," the golden-haired Veela replied, her shimmering eyes sparkling with amusement. "But perhaps there was something else you wished to inquire about?"
Echo's green hair pulsed, and he nodded eagerly. The Veela, anticipating a flirtatious remark, or perhaps even a bold invitation to a date or a marriage proposal – they had encountered all manner of human men, after all – subtly adjusted their posture, a faint, almost imperceptible air of practiced grace falling over them.
Instead, Echo, with an almost alarming speed, took out a small, leather-bound notebook and a quill from his robes. His green hair intensified, glowing with intense academic curiosity. "Yes!" he exclaimed, his voice brimming with unbridled enthusiasm. "There is! How do you keep your populations up?"
The Veela exchanged bewildered glances, their expressions shifting from expectant allure to utter surprise. One of them, a darker-haired Veela with striking blue eyes, let out another soft giggle, covering her mouth with a delicate hand.
"You see," Echo continued, oblivious to their astonishment, already scribbling furiously in his notebook, "from what I understand, Veela are all female. So, how do you prevent your species from simply... dying out? Is it asexual reproduction? Do you, perhaps, take a human man as a husband, and if so, how does that work genetically? Or is it some kind of magical process entirely? Like, a magical birth, or maybe a magical transformation of a human female?" He looked up, his eyes wide and earnest, his green hair pulsing with the intensity of his inquiry.
The entire group of Veela looked at one another, then burst into a fresh peal of laughter, a sound so genuinely delighted that it seemed to fill the air with shimmering light. The golden-haired Veela, her eyes still twinkling, stepped forward.
"Oh, little one," she said, her voice rich with amusement. "That, I must say, is the most sincere and certainly the most different kind of question we have ever received from a human. Most simply stare, or try to offer us flowers." She smiled, a genuine, warm smile that softened her ethereal beauty. "We would be more than happy to answer that, and any other questions you may have, later during the feast."
Echo's eyes widened, and his green hair flared with pure excitement. "Really?" he practically squeaked.
The Veela nodded, their golden hair shimmering. The golden-haired one even extended her little finger. "We pinkie promise."
Echo, with an earnestness that bordered on adorable, linked his pinkie with hers. "Pinkie promise!"
This entire exchange, however, had not gone unnoticed. Several older Hogwarts boys, their faces a mask of awe and longing as they had watched the Veela, now stared at Echo with a potent mix of jealousy and simmering anger, their eyes narrowed in disbelief at the audacious, question-wielding third-year who had somehow captivated the beautiful creatures.
Echo grinned, his green hair flickering with playful delight. "Excellent! But, just so you know, I was still going to offer you flowers anyway, even if you hadn't agreed to answer my questions." He gestured vaguely towards the ground, where a few daisies dotted the manicured lawn. "We could make daisy crowns!"
The Veela, who had been expecting a smooth, charming line, or perhaps a more conventional declaration of admiration, exchanged another set of bewildered glances. Then, a collective "Awwwww!" rippled through the group, their faces softening with an almost maternal tenderness. The golden-haired Veela, her pinkie still linked with Echo's, squeezed his finger gently. "Oh, little one," she cooed, her voice even sweeter than before. "You are truly a unique specimen."
The golden-haired Veela, her eyes sparkling, leaned down, her voice a soft murmur. "We will see you at the feast, little one." With a final, shared laugh and a rustle of iridescent gowns, the group of Veela turned and, with their headmistress, began to move towards the castle, their captivating presence slowly receding. As they walked away, the younger Veela, the one with the hint of childish roundness to her features, turned her head slightly and gave Echo a quick, knowing wink before disappearing around a bend in the path.
Echo, his green hair still pulsing with delight, watched them go. "They're so nice," he mumbled to himself, a genuine smile still gracing his lips.
His gaze drifted almost magnetically towards the magnificent Abraxan horses that stood patiently on the lawn, their immense, feathered wings occasionally ruffling in the breeze. His eyes, now a bright, curious green, fixed on the lead horse, a truly colossal creature whose coat gleamed like polished ivory. He slid through the thinning crowd of students, drawn by an irresistible urge, until he stood directly in front of the lead Abraxan. He craned his neck, looking up at the creature's immense form, his own height barely reaching to the top of its elephant-sized knee. A gasp of genuine awe escaped him, and his green hair softened to a shimmering, appreciative blue.
The winged horse, sensing his presence, lowered its massive head slightly. Its large, intelligent eyes, the color of warm honey, focused on Echo. The Abraxan then noticed the peculiar, ever-shifting colors of Echo's hair. Thinking it was either a particularly interesting type of food or perhaps just something new and intriguing to investigate, the horse nudged its soft, velvety muzzle forward. With a gentle, exploratory motion, it took a tuft of Echo's long, blue hair into its mouth, not chewing, but simply holding it, seemingly enjoying the unusual texture.
Echo giggled, a surprised, delighted sound. His blue hair pulsed with playful yellow. "Hey!" he exclaimed, his voice muffled slightly as the horse gently tugged at his hair. "That tickles!"
The Abraxan continued to hold a tuft of Echo's hair in its mouth, gently mouthing it, its warm breath ruffling his face. Echo, still giggling, tried to disengage gently. "Okay, okay, that's enough, big guy," he murmured, trying to pull his head back. "You can let go now."
But the Abraxan seemed rather pleased with its new chew toy. It tightened its gentle grip, and when Echo tried to step back further, the horse simply held firm, pulling Echo onto his tiptoes. His blue hair, still yellow with amusement, flickered with a hint of confusion. Sensing his mounting distress, Shimmer, a faint shimmer on his shoulder, solidified. With a flurry of translucent hands and a soundless huff of annoyance, she began to pull at the horse's velvety muzzle and lightly smack its face. Simultaneously, with a soft pop, Pip materialized out of thin air, clinging to the Abraxan's magnificent mane.
"Bad horse!" Pip squeaked, his tiny emerald suit a blur of indignation. "Release Master Echo at once! You are a very bad horse!" He tugged fiercely at the mane, trying to pull the immense creature's head away.
The Abraxan, however, found this newfound attention rather amusing. It let out a soft snort, a puff of warm air, and then, with a surprising burst of strength, it broke free of its tackle. With a shake of its massive head, it dislodged both Pip, who landed with a surprisingly soft thud on the grass, and Shimmer, who re-blurred into invisibility. Before anyone could react, the Abraxan dipped its head, carefully but firmly grabbed Echo by the front of his robes, lifting him clean off his feet. The sudden movement sent Sniffles flying from Echo's pocket, the Niffler landing with an indignant squeak near Lily's feet. With Echo dangling precariously from its mouth, the winged horse began to trot purposefully towards the edge of the lawn, clearly intent on taking flight.
Lily, who had been watching the entire bizarre scene unfold, gasped, her eyes wide with horror. She immediately realized that none of the headmasters, still deep in their diplomatic greetings, had noticed the escalating situation.
"Headmaster Dumbledore!" Lily shrieked, running towards the Headmaster's hair, streaming behind her. "Headmaster Dumbledore, sir, you have to help!"
Dumbledore, mid-bow to Igor Karkaroff, straightened, his eyes twinkling with mild irritation. "My dear Miss Evans, I am in the process of exchanging greetings with my esteemed colleagues. This behavior is most…"
"Echo's being kidnapped!" Lily cut him off, her voice cracking with desperation. "Horsenapped! Kid-horsenapped! He's being kidnapped by a horse!"
Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, and Igor Karkaroff all stared at one another, a beat of profound bewilderment hanging in the air.
"What?" they chorused, a simultaneous expression of utter confusion on their faces.
Just then, Echo, still held firmly in the Abraxan's mouth, passed directly by them. His blue hair, though flickering with a panicked green, had settled into an almost unsettling calm.
"Professor Dumbledore, I appear to be in the process of being abducted by the French," Echo stated casually, his voice slightly muffled but remarkably clear. "Send help, please."
With a powerful beat of its colossal wings, the Abraxan launched itself into the air, soaring gracefully upwards, carrying a dangling, oddly composed Echo into the bright autumn sky. Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, and Igor Karkaroff watched in stunned silence as the Abraxan, with Echo still clutched in its mouth, became a rapidly shrinking speck in the vast blue. Lily stood, her mouth agape, staring at the empty sky. "He's… he's really gone," she whispered, her voice laced with disbelief.
Severus, who had recovered from his initial shock, let out a frustrated groan. "Of course, he's gone, Lily! He's been carried off by a giant, winged horse! Did you expect him to simply wave goodbye? Merlin, I knew something would happen," He turned to Dumbledore, his face a mask of exasperation. "Headmaster, are you simply going to stand there? Echo has just been… horsenapped!"
Dumbledore, his eyes still twinkling despite the bizarre turn of events, chuckled softly. "Indeed, Severus. A most… unexpected development. But I assure you, Mr. Echo is quite resourceful. And Abraxans, while spirited, are not malicious creatures." He then turned to Madame Maxime, a faint, apologetic smile on his face. "My sincerest apologies, Madame Maxime. It seems one of your magnificent steeds has taken a particular liking to one of our… more unusual students."
Madame Maxime, who had watched the entire spectacle with an expression of stoic surprise, merely shrugged her immense shoulders. "He is… spirited, this boy. He will be returned. My Abraxans are very particular about their passengers."
Igor Karkaroff, however, let out a booming laugh. "Ha! Hogwarts' finest, abducted by a beast! Perhaps this bodes well for Durmstrang in the Tournament, eh, Albus?"
Dumbledore merely smiled, a knowing glint in his eye. "Time will tell, Igor. Time will tell."
Shimmer, a blur of shimmering silver, solidified on Severus's shoulder, burying his translucent face in the side of Severus's neck, a soft, anxious whimper escaping him. Simultaneously, Sniffles, the Niffler, who had been launched from Echo's pocket, scrambled across the lawn and, with a desperate squeak, burrowed into Lily's waiting arms, his tiny paws clutching at her robes.
"Severus, what do we do?" Lily asked, her voice tight with panic, clutching Sniffles to her chest. "We can't just let him be carried off by… by a French winged horse!"
Suddenly, with a faint shimmer, Shimmer, still perched on Severus's shoulder, produced a miniature crossbow, perfectly scaled to his size. He cocked it with a tiny, almost inaudible click, the bolt glistening menacingly, and aimed it threateningly at the rapidly disappearing Abraxan.
"No, Shimmer!" Lily exclaimed, her eyes widening. "We are not shooting the horse out of the sky! We'll kill Echo!"
Shimmer let out a soft, melodious groan of disappointment, lowering the crossbow with a visible slump.
Severus, running a hand through his dark hair, sighed, a weary, resigned sound. "He'll have to figure this out on his own, Lily," he stated, his voice flat. "As he usually does, when he invites trouble, or when trouble finds him." He paused, then added, a hint of grudging respect in his tone, "Though I daresay, he's probably enjoying the view."
Lily then looked down, realizing that she only had Sniffles. "Wait, where's Pip?" she asked, her eyes wide with a new kind of panic.