Professor Filius Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw House and Charms Master, was a difficult man to find at the best of times. Echo, however, had a knack for locating the elusive. He found the diminutive professor in his office, perched atop a stack of enchanted tomes, meticulously polishing a miniature silver chalice with a handkerchief that seemed almost larger than himself.
Echo cleared his throat. "Professor Flitwick, do you have a moment?"
The tiny professor nearly jumped, his spectacles sliding down his nose. "Mr. Echo! My word, you appear out of nowhere! To what do I owe this... unexpected pleasure?" His voice, usually a cheerful squeak, held a hint of surprise, perhaps even wariness, given Echo's recent public antics.
Echo shuffled his feet, his blue hair a picture of rare humility. "Professor, I'm here to ask for something a bit unusual. And, well, I'll admit it's not something I'd normally do."
Flitwick, ever observant, noticed the genuine earnestness in Echo's demeanor. He levitated a small, padded stool for Echo. "Do sit, Mr. Echo. And speak your mind."
Echo sat, a little awkwardly. "Professor, after the first task... with the dragons..." He trailed off, remembering the aerial chase, the spell-slinging, the sheer, unadulterated chaos. "I realized something. My Beast Magic is powerful, and I can be resourceful, but what about your actual dueling skills? My spellcasting in a real, high-pressure situation? They're subpar. At best." He looked at Flitwick, a flicker of genuine frustration in his eyes. "I was flailing, Professor. Relying on luck and adrenaline more than skill. And with two more tasks coming up... I can't afford that."
Flitwick listened intently, stroking his tiny beard. "A most astute observation, Mr. Echo. Self-awareness is the first step towards mastery. And you are correct; while your innate magical abilities are formidable, raw power without refined skill can be a dangerous thing."
"Exactly!" Echo exclaimed, relief flooding him that he wasn't being dismissed. "So, I was hoping... well, I was hoping you might be willing to give me extra lessons. In dueling. Combat spellwork. Anything to make sure I'm not just... blindly throwing spells around."
A broad smile spread across Flitwick's face, making his small eyes twinkle. "Mr. Echo, I would be delighted! It is a rare student who actively seeks to improve their weaknesses, particularly one as uniquely gifted as you. I foresee great potential, indeed. Come to my office every Tuesday and Thursday evening after supper. We shall begin with the fundamentals, and then, perhaps, explore some more... unorthodox applications of offensive and defensive magic."
"Thank you, Professor!" Echo said, a genuine smile replacing his earlier apprehension. His blue hair brightened to a vibrant, hopeful indigo.
Leaving Flitwick's office, Echo felt a surge of determination. One down, one to go. His next destination was the greenhouses and the notoriously eccentric Professor Bloom.
He found Professor Bloom, a woman perpetually covered in soil and smelling faintly of fertilizer, humming off-key to a pot of Mandrakes in Greenhouse Three. She looked up, her round face breaking into a surprised smile as Echo entered.
"Echo, dear boy! To what do I owe the pleasure? Not here to inquire about the nutritional value of dragon dung, I hope? Though, for a Chinese Fireball, I imagine it would be quite... fiery!" She chuckled, patting a particularly thorny Snargaluff plant.
Echo managed a polite, if slightly forced, smile. "No, Professor Bloom, nothing like that. I actually wanted to talk about my grades in Herbology."
Professor Bloom's smile dimmed slightly. "Ah, yes. Well, dear, they are certainly... consistent. Consistently adequate, that is. Not quite blooming, if you catch my drift."
Echo sighed. "I do. They're abysmal. And that's precisely why I'm here. I realized, again, after the first task, that I'm completely useless when it comes to magical plants. I can talk to dragons, but I couldn't tell a Venomous Tentacula from a Puffapod if my life depended on it. And frankly, with what's ahead, it just might."
Professor Bloom's eyes widened, a flicker of genuine interest replacing her usual jovial demeanor. "A practical application, then? Not merely for academic enrichment?"
"Exactly!" Echo leaned forward. "I need to know how to use them. I learned to identify them quickly, defend against them, and make them part of my toolkit. Especially for combat, if that's even possible."
Professor Bloom clasped her hands together, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Combat, you say? Oh, my dear boy, Herbology is far more than just pretty flowers and tedious repotting! There is a wealth of defensive and even offensive potential within the plant kingdom! Venomous Tentaculas, Devil's Snare, Mimbulus mimbletonia for a truly putrid distraction... the possibilities are endless!" She rubbed her hands together, a genuine enthusiasm lighting up her features. "This is precisely the kind of challenge I adore! We shall make a botanist of you yet, Echo! Or at the very least, a very dangerous botanist!"
"So, you'll teach me?" Echo asked, a newfound hope blossoming in his chest.
"I certainly will!" Professor Bloom declared, pulling out a trowel from her robes. "Meet me here, in Greenhouse Three, every Monday and Wednesday morning before classes. We'll get your hands dirty, and your mind sharp! We'll start with identifying the most common dangers, then move onto their uses, and perhaps even how to cultivate some of your own for... shall we say, 'extracurricular activities.'" She winked, a conspiratorial grin spreading across her face.
Echo's smile was wide and genuine. His blue hair shimmered with a determined, vibrant green. "Thank you, Professor Bloom! You won't regret it!"
As he left the greenhouse, the scent of rich earth and strange plants clinging to him, Echo felt a surge of confidence. He might be bound to a tournament he despised, but he wouldn't face it unprepared. He would turn his weaknesses into strengths, and by the time the next task rolled around, they would all see that the Hogwarts Champion, Echo, was far more than just a madman who loved dragons. He was a force to be reckoned with.
Charms with Professor Flitwick
Echo's initial lessons with Professor Flitwick were, as the diminutive professor had promised, focused on the fundamentals. They started with basic defensive charms, Echo struggling at first with the precise wand movements and the mental focus required to conjure a truly robust Protego. His Dark Beast, so instinctive and powerful, often interfered, wanting to manifest as raw energy rather than refined spellcraft, especially if it wasn't for something spectacular, finding these mundane spells below the use of echo's magic, even when the boy commanded his wand with parseltongue.
"No, Mr. Echo, feel the magic within the spell, not just through it," Flitwick would squeak, patiently guiding Echo's wrist. "A charm is an extension of your will, yes, but it must be a controlled will."
Echo tried. He failed, sometimes spectacularly. One evening, attempting a simple Shield Charm, his magic flared, manifesting as a shimmering, unstable wall of dark purple energy that pulsed violently before collapsing inwards, nearly knocking him off his stool. His hair, reflecting his frustration, was a chaotic swirl of black and angry red.
"Fascinating, Mr. Echo, if a touch… dramatic," Flitwick had observed, levitating a scorched section of the classroom wall back into place. "Perhaps we can channel that raw power into something more… predictable."
Slowly, agonizingly, Echo began to grasp the nuances. He discovered that by first bartering with the beast, he could use a small amount of his magic for these spells, allowing the beast to give him more for bigger and bolder events without always relying on his gather and release method of spell casting. He learned to distinguish the primal surge of his innate abilities from the precise, intellectual demands of Charms. He mastered the Protego, then moved on to more offensive spells: Expelliarmus, Stupefy, and even some advanced disarming and binding charms. Flitwick, impressed by Echo's tenacity and rapid improvement, introduced him to non-verbal spellcasting, a skill Echo found surprisingly intuitive. Hearing this, the beast became excited by the spectacle of casting spells without a word. So it allowed Echo to use a bit more of his magic than usual, and a silent Stupefy from Echo carried a concussive force that startled even Flitwick and made the beast smile with desire and a lust for more.
"Excellent, Mr. Echo, excellent!" Flitwick would exclaim, his eyes twinkling. "You are not merely casting spells; you are imbuing them. A rare talent, indeed!"
Herbology with Professor Bloom
Meanwhile, in the humid confines of Greenhouse Three, Echo was literally getting his hands dirty under the eccentric but brilliant guidance of Professor Bloom. His initial disdain for plants quickly evaporated as he realized their potential.
"You see, Echo, dear boy," Professor Bloom explained one morning, as Echo cautiously prodded a Fanged Geranium, "every plant has a purpose. Even the most unassuming weed can hide a potent defense, or a valuable remedy."
Echo learned to identify a dizzying array of magical flora. He spent hours memorizing their properties, their uses, and their dangers. He learned how to extract the venom from a Tentacula without losing a limb, how to harvest Mandrakes safely, and how to cultivate various magical components for potions and even spell enhancements.
His first attempt at creating a defensive barrier using Snargaluff pods ended with him covered in sticky, glowing green sap, much to Professor Bloom's booming amusement. Another time, while attempting to re-pot a particularly aggressive Venomous Tentacula, it lashed out, narrowly missing his face and leaving a deep scorch mark on the greenhouse wall.
"A learning experience, dear boy, a learning experience!" Professor Bloom had declared, dabbing a soothing balm on the singed canvas. "Always respect the flora! They may seem rooted, but they are never truly passive."
Echo discovered a surprising aptitude for understanding the "feel" of plants, a connection that resonated with his dark affinity, as if his very magic was a core aspect of nature in some odd way. He learned to sense their needs, their distress, even their hidden defenses. He could tell by a subtle shift in color or a faint tremor in a leaf when a plant was about to react. He experimented with using his magic to accelerate growth, or even to influence aggressive plants to become temporarily docile subtly, a feat that utterly captivated Professor Bloom.
"Remarkable, Echo, truly remarkable!" she gushed, watching as a Devil's Snare recoiled slightly from Echo's extended hand. "You have a true gardener's touch, but with an unparalleled magical… nuance!"
He also learned how to weaponize them. Professor Bloom, with a gleeful glint in her eye, showed him how to strategically deploy choking vines, how to prepare a potent exploding fungus, and how to create blinding dust from certain enchanted flowers. He wasn't just learning Herbology; he was learning battlefield Herbology.
Echo's final stop was less about academic improvement and more about a desperate, slightly unorthodox gamble. He clutched a small bag of surprisingly delicious-smelling, slightly-too-sweet shortbread biscuits as he made his way towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest, a place he knew Granny Ethel, the hag, favored. His green hair was a mix of nervous anticipation and grim determination. He found her, as usual, hunched over a bubbling cauldron, muttering to herself, surrounded by various unsavory ingredients.
"Granny Ethel?" Echo ventured, holding out the bag of treats. "I brought you some shortbread."
The old hag, her eyes like glinting beads in her wrinkled face, looked up, a slow, toothless smile spreading. She sniffed the air, her nostrils flaring. "Ah, good boy, Echo. Always thinking of old Ethel." She snatched the bag with surprising speed, cackling as she bit into a biscuit. "What do you want, then? Your hair tells me you're not here for a social call."
Echo shuffled his feet. "Granny Ethel, I was wondering… if you could teach me some of your magic."
The hag paused mid-chew, her eyes narrowing. "My magic? What for? You've got your fancy wand and your beasties. Hag magic is… different."
"I know," Echo said earnestly, his green hair darkening to a determined blue. "But it's still magic. And I need every advantage I can get for this tournament. Even something simple. Like… like that trick you used on those Aurors, making their wands grow wild."
Granny Ethel cackled, a dry, rattling sound. "Ah, that one. A touch of my special brew, combined with a little… persuasion of the natural world. It was quite amusing, seeing their faces as their precious sticks turned to branches!" She paused, taking another bite of shortbread. "You've got the affinity for plants now, haven't you? I can smell it on you, all that rich earth and strange growth."
Echo nodded eagerly. "Professor Bloom has been teaching me. I'm getting better at understanding them, even influencing them a little."
Granny Ethel considered him, her gaze surprisingly astute. "Hmph. Alright, boy. Come to me every Friday evening, after the moon has touched the highest tree. I'll teach you some of my simpler tricks. Nothing too grand, mind you. You're no hag. But I can show you how to truly bend the flora to your will, beyond what your professors would dream of. We'll start with encouraging a bit of… enthusiastic growth in normal plants. The wand trick? That will come later, once you've learned to listen to the whispers of the green things truly." She winked, a glint of genuine mischief in her ancient eyes. "And bring more shortbread. Ethel likes shortbread."
Echo grinned, a surge of renewed hope coursing through him. "Thank you, Granny Ethel! I'll be here!" His blue hair brightened to a hopeful, excited green as he turned to leave, already planning his weekly shortbread deliveries.