The Forbidden Forest, as always, was a symphony of rustling leaves and creaking branches, a stark contrast to the bustling corridors of Hogwarts. Echo, his green hair a muted forest shade, walked with purpose, Shimmer a translucent flicker at his shoulder, Sniffles a rumbling, contented weight in his robe pocket. He was gathering rare ingredients for Professor Bloom's "extracurricular activities," enjoying the quiet solitude.
Suddenly, a tiny voice, surprisingly clear, piped up from a patch of shamrocks directly in his path. "Well, hello there, tall one! A lost giant, are we?"
Echo stopped, scanning the undergrowth. His eyes, accustomed to spotting subtle movements, found the source. Perched on a toadstool no more than six inches tall was a vibrant green creature. Its tiny red beard bristled with amusement, and a miniature, emerald-green hat of leaves tilted jauntily atop its head, along with the rest of its clothing. It was a leprechaun.
Echo blinked, then blinked again. His green hair flickered to a confused blue. "A... a leprechaun?" he managed, a genuine note of surprise in his voice. "You're... you're tiny!"
The leprechaun puffed out his chest, which was barely an inch wide. "And what were you expecting, pray tell? A behemoth of the glade? A towering titan of the moss?"
Echo scratched his head, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. "Well, I don't know... maybe like, three feet at most? Two feet at minimum, I guess. You know, from the stories."
The leprechaun clapped a tiny hand over its heart, a wide, impish grin splitting its face. "Ah, you touch my heart with such kind words, stranger! Most people expect a foot at best! You, my friend, have a grand imagination!" He winked, then, with a flourish, produced a small, glittering coin from behind his ear. "For such a discerning eye, perhaps you'd like a little something? A shiny piece of my gold?"
Sniffles, sensing the proximity of something valuable, instantly poked his head out of Echo's robe, his eyes gleaming. He let out an eager squeak, trying to wriggle free.
Echo, however, was already shaking his head. "No, thank you," he said, gently but firmly pushing Sniffles back into his pocket. The Niffler let out a disgruntled whine. "I don't need any gold."
The leprechaun's grin faltered slightly. "No gold? Are you quite sure, lad? This isn't just any gold, mind you. This is leprechaun gold! Fresh from the pot at the end of the rainbow, though the rainbow was a bit squashed today, so it's a bit bent, but still! Shinier than a dragon's tear, it is!" He held out another coin, its gleam almost hypnotic.
"No, really," Echo insisted, his blue hair firming to a resolute indigo. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm good."
The leprechaun narrowed its eyes, a flicker of something mischievous replacing its earlier jolliness. "Perhaps you're not in the mood for gold, then? A pretty daisy crown, perhaps? Or a mushroom that sings sea shanties?"
Echo just sighed. "No, thank you. I'm just here to gather some ingredients."
And so began Echo's incredibly frustrating afternoon. No matter where he went, the tiny leprechaun seemed to pop up, always with a fresh offer of gold. He found it clinging to a branch above his head, showering him with glittering coins that dissolved before they hit the ground. He found it peeking out from behind a particularly rare Flobberworm, jingling a pouch of unseen riches. He even found it somehow inside his satchel, scattering gold dust over his carefully collected Dittany.
"Just a pinch, then?" the leprechaun would wheedle, its voice surprisingly persistent. "A small token? A single, solitary galleon, for your troubles?"
"No!" Echo would snap, his hair cycling through frustrated reds and exasperated purples. "Leave me alone! I don't want your gold!" He pulled Sniffles away from a particularly tempting cascade of shimmering coins for the tenth time.
Finally, as the sun began to dip below the treeline, casting long, eerie shadows across the forest floor, Echo had had enough. He was trying to identify a tricky set of Bubotuber pustules when the leprechaun appeared, balancing precariously on the largest pustule, holding up a minuscule, glowing ingot.
"Just a little taste, then, eh? For luck?"
Echo snapped. With a speed that startled even Shimmer, he reached out, grabbed the leprechaun by its tiny leaf green hat, and lifted it eye-level. His blue hair was now a furious, crackling black.
"Alright, that's it!" Echo roared, his voice echoing through the darkening forest. The leprechaun dangled, its red beard bristling, but its eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and delight. "Why are you doing this?! Why do you want me to take your gold?! Your entire thing is to guard it, to trick people, to be elusive! Not to pester me all day with offers I clearly don't want!"
The leprechaun chuckled, a dry, reedy sound that vibrated through Echo's fingers. "Ah, the lad has a temper! I like that!" It wiggled its tiny feet. "And you're quite right, you are. We leprechauns, we're meant for mischief, for guarding our treasures, for a bit of a chase!"
"Then why?!" Echo demanded, shaking the tiny creature slightly.
The leprechaun grinned, an utterly unrepentant, impish grin. "Because, my tall, serious friend," it declared, its voice filled with glee, "I was bored! And you, with your steadfast refusal and your magnificent little niffler, are the most fun I've had in years!" It winked. "A little mischief, a little fun, that's all old Cormac wanted! And you, dear boy, have provided it in spades!"
Echo groaned, letting go of Cormac's hat. The leprechaun landed lightly on the Bubotuber, adjusting its leaf-hat. "You are infuriating, you know that? Utterly, completely infuriating!"
Cormac threw his head back, a tiny, high-pitched cackle erupting from his chest. "That's the point, lad! That's the point!"
Echo ran a hand through his now-blue hair, a wry smile touching his lips. "Is this… is this what it's like to deal with me? All the time?" he muttered more to himself than to Cormac.
The leprechaun, still chortling, seemed to consider this. "Ah, now, that's a question for another day, perhaps! But tell me, why the steadfast refusal of my glittering generosity? Most folk, they jump at the chance for a bit of fortune!"
Echo rolled his eyes. "Because it's not real gold, is it? It's leprechaun gold. It looks real for a few minutes, all shiny and promising, and then poof! Turns into dust. It's just a trick."
Cormac's laughter died down, replaced by a look of genuine surprise. "How in the name of the ancient oaks do you know that, lad? Most of them fall for it, hook, line, and sinker!"
Echo scoffed. "Any witch or wizard who's bothered to read a book on magical creatures knows that. It's practically in the first few paragraphs. Common knowledge, Cormac. Common knowledge."
Cormac scratched his tiny red beard, a rare moment of genuine thought on his impish face. "Common knowledge, you say? Hmph. Perhaps I should update my material." He peered at Echo more closely. "Still, even if you know it's fleeting, a little sparkle for a moment, a brief illusion of wealth... most still can't resist. Why the absolute refusal, then? No desire for fortune, even if it's brief?"
Echo simply shrugged, a faint, contented smile touching his lips. He gently patted the side of his robe. From within, Sniffles let out a happy little rumble, and the Niffler's pouch, now comically bulging with keys, coins, and other pilfered trinkets, gave a soft, unmistakable jingle.
"Because, Cormac," Echo said, a genuine warmth in his voice, his blue hair shimmering with soft satisfaction, "my treasure is real and everything I want is provided for me at Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts?" Cormac repeated, his tiny brow furrowed in thought. "Is that where you've hidden all this… real treasure?" He squinted, trying to peer past Echo.
Echo simply pointed a finger towards the distant, majestic silhouette of Hogwarts Castle, its myriad towers and spires just visible above the treeline, glowing faintly in the fading light.
Cormac followed his gaze, his eyes widening. "That… that great big lump? I thought it was just a rather craggy mountain, I did! A fine spot for a bit of moss, I reckoned!"
Echo chuckled, a genuine laugh bubbling up from his chest. "Not entirely inaccurate, I suppose. It is a pretty big lump of rock." He paused, then his expression grew serious. "Look, Cormac, don't go near there, alright?"
The leprechaun bristled. "And why ever not, pray tell? A grand new mountain to explore, perhaps a fresh vein of fools to dazzle with my glittering wonders!"
"Because," Echo said, leaning down conspiratorially, his voice low, "you'll either get stepped on by a stampede of students who don't look where they're going, or you'll be chased around all day by dumb dumbs who think your gold is the real deal and are determined to get it. Besides," he added, straightening up, "we've got two other schools visiting for the tournament. I have no idea how they'd react to a leprechaun."
Cormac tilted his head, a glimmer of genuine curiosity in his eyes. "And why would that matter, my quick-tempered friend?"
"Because," Echo explained, holding up two fingers, "the Durmstrang students are… intense. If you annoy them and get caught, they'd probably grind you up for potion ingredients without a second thought. And the French school, Beauxbatons? They've got Veela. And last I checked, leprechauns and Veela don't exactly mix well, do they?"
Cormac stopped, his impish grin fading, replaced by a thoughtful frown. He scratched his tiny red beard, his gaze fixed on the distant castle, now seeing it in a new, more dangerous light. The prospect of being potion ingredients, or worse, facing a gaggle of angry Veela, gave him pause. Echo, satisfied that he had made his point, turned and continued on his way, leaving the tiny leprechaun to ponder the unexpected perils of Hogwarts Castle.
The next day dawned clear and crisp, a welcome reprieve from the previous day's chaos. Echo, his black hair calm and neatly combed, was taking a rare break from his intensive lessons, enjoying the brisk autumn air. He strolled casually across the Hogwarts grounds, his gaze idly sweeping over the familiar landscape. As he passed near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, his eyes landed on the majestic, pale-blue Beauxbatons carriages, resting silently in a clearing. These enchanted vehicles served as both dormitories and classrooms for the French students, and their ornate designs were in striking contrast to Hogwarts' ancient stone.
Suddenly, with a violent THUMP, one of the carriage doors burst open, swinging wide with such force that it nearly flew off its hinges. A flurry of movement followed, as a cascade of the unmistakably Veela poured out, screaming in high-pitched, terrified French. Their normally captivating beauty was marred by genuine panic; hair disheveled, faces pale, some clutching small, embroidered pillows as if for protection.
Almost immediately, Madame Maxime emerged from a different carriage, her towering figure radiating authority, her face etched with concern. She began to speak in a rapid, calming torrent of French, trying to soothe the distraught Veela. Echo watched the scene unfold, a peculiar mix of confusion and mild alarm flickering in his blue hair. He couldn't understand a word they were saying, but the sheer terror on the Veelas' faces was universal.
As Madame Maxime continued her efforts, one of the Veela, a striking girl with long, golden hair and eyes that usually held a captivating spark, spotted Echo. It was Empusa. Her eyes, usually so proud, were now wide and swimming with tears. With a fresh shriek, she broke free from the huddle of her fellow older Veela and sprinted towards him, her elegant Beauxbatons robe fluttering behind her.
"Echo! Oh, mon Dieu, Echo! C'est terrible! C'est affreux! Le monstre…il est partout!" Empusa sobbed, throwing herself into his arms, her words a jumble of frantic, tearful French.
Echo, completely taken aback, awkwardly patted her back. His blue hair pulsed with confusion. "Whoa, whoa, Empusa, calm down," he stammered, trying to make sense of her distress. "I... I can barely speak English on a good day, let alone French. Please, try to calm down and tell me what's wrong."
Empusa, still clinging to him, took a few shaky breaths, her grip gradually loosening. Her sobs began to subside into shuddering gasps. "D-désolé, Echo," she whispered, trying to compose herself. "I... I am so sorry. It's just... It's been horrible." She pulled away slightly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, though her captivating features still showed the strain of genuine fear.
"Okay, okay, take your time," Echo said, his voice softer now, his blue hair settling into a concerned shade. "Just... tell me what happened, as best you can."
She looked around at her still-panicked sister-kin, then back at Echo, her voice dropping to a frantic whisper. "It's a monster, Echo! An invisible one! Ever since yesterday, it has been... harassing us! We cannot eat, we cannot sleep, we cannot sit down! We cannot even... even put on our clothing properly!"
Echo frowned, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Can't put on your clothing properly? What do you mean by that?"
Empusa's face flushed crimson, even through her pallor. She wrung her hands. "It's... It's taking our undergarments, Echo! Our... our lingerie! And sometimes, it makes them... float around! In the air! It is terrible! Humiliating! We are all so afraid!" She shuddered again, fresh tears welling in her eyes.
Echo's hair, which had been a concerned blue, now cycled through a range of bewildered and then intensely frustrated purples and reds. He looked at the distressed Veela, then back at the Beauxbatons carriage, a long sigh escaping him. An invisible culprit. He considered the possibilities. Just one look at a Veela, and any witch or wizard could become smitten, or even completely obsessed. However, because the culprit couldn't be seen, they must have been invisible. There was only one person he thought it could be.
He took a deep breath, pulling away from Empusa with a gentle but firm hand. "Empusa, please excuse me for a moment. Stay here."
He pulled out his wand, his black hair flaring with a dangerous, determined red. With a silent command and a burst of his Beast Magic, he summoned a Diricawl, the plump, flightless bird appearing in a shimmer of feathers beside him. He linked to its natural apparition, and with a soft pop, Echo vanished. He reappeared a minute later with another pop, pushing a very confused James Potter forward. James stumbled, blinking, his messy black hair even messier than usual.
"What in Merlin's name...?" James began, rubbing his eyes.
Echo pushed him down onto a convenient patch of grass. "Alright, Potter, you want to explain yourself?"
James looked at him, utterly bewildered. "Explain what? What are you talking about?"
"About using your invisibility cloak to take the Veela's underwear," Echo said, his voice low and dangerous, his red hair crackling with barely contained fury. "If this is some kind of prank, or a way to make some quick Galleons, I swear, James, I am going to hurt you. Badly."
James stared at him, his mouth agape. "My invisibility cloak? Taking what now? I have no idea what you're talking about!" He looked genuinely confused, not cunning.
"You're the only one in this entire castle with a reliable invisibility cloak, and frankly, the only one with the motive to do something this utterly idiotic!" Echo retorted, jabbing a finger at him.
James blinked, then scratched his head. "Whoa, hold on a minute. Slow down. Did you just say I stole... who from what again?"
Echo rolled his eyes and pointed a finger towards the huddle of Beauxbatons students, still distraught and partially disrobed. James's gaze followed, and as his eyes landed on the group of beautiful Veela, his entire demeanor changed. His eyes glazed over, a dopey, infatuated smile spread across his face, and he let out a soft, almost moaning sound. He started to make a beeline for them, arms outstretched, mumbling incoherently.
Echo sighed, a long, exasperated sound, and pulled James back by the collar. His red hair softened to a resigned blue. "Never mind," he muttered. "It's not him."
Empusa, who had been watching the exchange with wide, tearful eyes, now looked at Echo with renewed hope. "You... you are sure?"
"Positive," Echo replied, shaking his head as he watched James, still in his infatuated trance, trying to charm a particularly prickly bush. "If it were him, he wouldn't be able to properly pull this off without acting like this. He's too… susceptible."
Empusa wrung her hands, her beautiful features still contorted with stress. "But then, who is it, Echo? What are we to do? It is truly… insupportable! We cannot return to the carriages while this… this monster is there!" She gestured wildly towards the opulent blue vehicles, as if they housed a lurking horror.
Echo's hair, still a concerned blue, twitched. "Did this just happen? Is that why you all burst out?"
"Yes!" Empusa exclaimed, nodding vigorously, fresh tears welling. "Just seconds ago! We were trying to… to retrieve our things, and then… poof! More underwear, flying around! It is outrageous!"
Echo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, alright. I think I might have one other way to help." He took a step towards the carriage, a determined glint in his eye.
Just then, Madame Maxime, having finally managed to calm her other students, strode over, her towering figure casting a formidable shadow. Her piercing gaze fixed on Echo and Empusa. "Monsieur Echo," she boomed, her voice resonating with authority. I trust you are not, shall we say, making life 'hell' for my students and me, as you so emphatically promised before?" Her eyes narrowed, a clear warning in their depths.
Echo turned to face her, his expression suddenly cold, his blue hair darkening to a steely grey. "Does this 'hell' you speak of have anything to do with your blasted tournament, Madame Maxime?"
Madame Maxime held his gaze for a moment, then, with a curt nod, replied, "Non, Monsieur. It does not."
Echo's face instantly brightened, a cheerful, almost impish grin spreading across his lips. His grey hair shimmered with a triumphant, vibrant yellow. "Then there's no hell to pay at all! Problem solved!"
With a subtle, almost imperceptible surge of his Beast Magic, Echo extended his hand. A moment later, with a soft thump and a shimmer of fur, a large, fluffy Kneazle, its intelligent eyes bright and curious, materialized at his feet.
Madame Maxime blinked, her regal composure faltering slightly. "A… a Kneazle, Monsieur Echo? And how, precisely, will this feline companion assist with the current… delicate situation?" She gestured vaguely towards her still-distraught Veela.
Echo merely grinned, scooping up the Kneazle. "Kneazles have a natural ability to detect suspicious characters and see through illusions, Madame Maxime. Especially those hiding under invisibility." He strode purposefully towards the wide-open carriage door, gently depositing the Kneazle inside. "Go on, Borb. Find us the perpetrator." He then firmly shut the carriage door with a resounding thud, crossing his arms and leaning against the side, a picture of confident, if slightly unhinged, expectation.
A violent crash, followed by the unmistakable sound of something tearing, erupted from within the carriage. The Kneazle shrieked and hissed, a furious, predatory sound, immediately countered by a high-pitched scream of pure terror. The Veela, who had just begun to calm, gasped collectively, their eyes wide with renewed fright. Madame Maxime stood frozen, her towering figure rigid, unable to act or speak, only listen and watch as Echo stood idly by, whistling a happy, off-key tune, and waited for the storm within to subside. Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the cacophony ceased. A tense silence fell over the clearing, broken only by the frantic whimpers of the Veela. After a moment, a soft pawing sound could be heard from inside the carriage door. Echo pushed the door open.
The Kneazle sat expectantly on the threshold, its fur slightly ruffled but its intelligent eyes gleaming with satisfaction. In its mouth, it held a small, disheveled pile of bright pink lace. Behind it, the interior of the carriage was an absolute mess; overturned furniture, ripped tapestries, and scattered feathers from what looked like a thoroughly destroyed pillow. And in the center of the devastation, cowering under a crumpled velvet curtain, was a small, green leprechaun, its leaf-hat askew, its tiny red beard singed, and its face pale with abject terror.
Echo bent down, gently taking the lace from the Kneazle's mouth. "Good boy, Borb, good boy", he murmured, stroking the Kneazle's head, his blue hair softening to a contented green. "You did wonderfully. Now, show us the pest, won't you?"
Borb, the Kneazle, let out a soft rumble, then delicately spat the pink lace into Echo's outstretched palm. Echo, a flicker of amusement in his green hair, carefully examined the item—a delicate, lacy brassiere. He then looked at the cowering leprechaun.
"A leprechaun!" shrieked Empusa, her voice a mixture of outrage and disbelief, her earlier terror morphing into furious indignation. "A tiny, green... leprechaun has been stealing our undergarments?"
The other Veela echoed her sentiments, a furious chorus of French exclamations rising from their group.
Echo ignored them, his gaze fixed on the cowering figure. "Cormac?" he said, a slow, disbelieving shake of his head. "Is that you?"
The tiny leprechaun, still trembling under the curtain, slowly pushed himself up. His leaf-hat was indeed askew, his beard singed, and his usually vibrant green clothing was now torn and dirtied. His eyes, though still wide with fright, held a spark of recognition.
Madame Maxime, her face a mask of astonishment, stared from the leprechaun to Echo. "You know this... this creature, Monsieur Echo?"
"Yes, Madame Maxime," Echo replied, a long, suffering sigh escaping him. "Unfortunately, I do."
Cormac, seemingly recovering his composure with astonishing speed, pushed the curtain aside entirely. He brushed himself off, straightened his hat with a minuscule flick of his wrist, and then, with a surprising leap, landed squarely in Echo's open palm.
"Top of the morning to ya, lad!" Cormac chirped, his voice surprisingly cheerful despite his recent ordeal. He beamed up at Echo, a flicker of his usual mischief returning to his eyes.
Echo just stared at him, his green hair flickering to an exasperated blue. "Cormac, it's practically noon."
The leprechaun waved a tiny hand dismissively. "Details, details! So, how are you, my quick-tempered friend? Enjoying the sights? And what, pray tell, are you doing here?"
Echo's eye twitched. He held up the pink lace. "What am I doing? What are you doing, Cormac? And what, precisely, is this?"
Cormac glanced at the brassiere, then back at Echo, an innocent, impish grin spreading across his face. "Ah, that! Just exploring the castle, as you suggested, my friend! A grand adventure it's been, full of fascinating little nooks and crannies, and... interesting textiles!" He winked conspiratorially.
Echo's blue hair flared to a furious red. "I told you not to come near the castle, Cormac! I specifically said, 'Don't go near there, alright?' Do you remember that part?"
Cormac scratched his tiny red beard. "A suggestion, you say? Well, I thought it was more of a… friendly bit of advice, given your own penchant for mischief, lad!" He gestured vaguely with a tiny hand towards the distant Hogwarts. "And besides, I saw that big mountain, and thought, 'Cormac, me boy, a grand new place for a spot of fun!'"
Echo's jaw tightened. He lifted Cormac higher, holding the tiny leprechaun directly in front of his face, his red hair flaring with renewed anger. "Alright, Cormac, here's a new suggestion!" He then turned, pivoting towards the still-furious group of Veela and Madame Maxime. He held Cormac out to them, the tiny leprechaun squirming slightly in his grip. "Cormac, you are going to apologize to Madame Maxime and these ladies for harassing them and trying to pilfer their panties!"
Cormac, however, seemed utterly unfazed. He looked at the Veela, then back at Echo, a flicker of genuine confusion in his wide eyes. "But I thought you liked pulling pranks, lad? And causing a bit of chaos?"
Echo blinked, his red hair softening to a surprised blue. "Who told you that?"
"Peeves, he did!" Cormac declared, puffing out his tiny chest. "We had a grand chat, we did, about the finer points of mischief and mayhem! He said you were a true kindred spirit!"
Echo groaned, a hand running through his hair. "Peeves. Of course, Peeves." He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. "Look, Cormac, I do like to pull pranks, and yes, fun and chaos tend to follow me. But there's a difference. My pranks don't hurt people. They don't humiliate them or make them feel unsafe. What did you do? That was mean-spirited, rude, and quite vulgar."
Madame Maxime, who had been listening intently, nodded her towering head in agreement. "Indeed, Monsieur Echo. I quite agree with your assessment."
Cormac, however, merely sniffed, crossing his tiny arms. "I see no reason for an apology. It was all in good fun!"
Echo's eyes narrowed dangerously. His blue hair crackled, turning a deep, menacing black. Without another word, he quickly squeezed his hand around the tiny leprechaun, not hard enough to truly injure, but firm enough to make Cormac squeak in alarm, feeling as though he was being used as a stress toy.
"Perhaps," Echo said, his voice dangerously low, "I should rephrase what I'm saying, Cormac. I'm not asking you to apologize. I'm demanding it."
Cormac, still defiant despite the pressure, scoffed. "And I, my large and rather unamusing friend, am not giving one. An apology, that is. Never have, never will! It's against the very nature of a leprechaun!"
Echo let out a long, suffering sigh, releasing his grip slightly. His black hair softened to a resigned, weary blue. "Alright, Cormac. I tried this the easy way. I tried it the firm way." He met the tiny creature's gaze, a glint of something cold and calculating entering his eyes. "But if you want to do this the hard way, I'll be absolutely delighted to oblige."
He then turned his head, looking at the huddle of Beauxbatons students. His gaze swept over their still-furious faces, landing on Empusa. "Ladies," he said, his voice carrying an unnervingly calm tone, his blue hair flickering with a mischievous indigo. "Do any of you happen to know of any creatures, perhaps from the Forbidden Forest, that have a particular… fondness for eating leprechauns? Because, if I don't already have one in my collection, I'm quite certain I could locate a suitable specimen within the next hour or so."
A collective gasp, then a wave of delighted, wicked smiles spread across the Veela's faces. Empusa, her earlier terror completely forgotten, leaned against Echo's shoulder, her captivating eyes gleaming with an almost predatory glee. "Oh, oui, Echo! Many! There is the carnivorous Grindylow, though they prefer water. Or perhaps the ravenous Chupacabra, though they are more for goats… Ah! But the Bowtruckle! They are small, but they have a taste for mischief-makers! Or perhaps… the Acromantula! They love anything small and crunchy!"
Echo nodded thoughtfully, a dark glint in his eyes. "Yes, Bowtruckles are indeed quite fond of mischievous little morsels. And Acromantulas are always looking for a good snack." He patted the side of his robe. "I've actually got a few of those already, thanks to Sniffles's... enterprising spirit."
Cormac, however, still stubbornly shook his head, his tiny red beard bristling. "Still not apologizing! It's against my nature, I tell ya! You wouldn't understand, you great big bully!"
Echo sighed, his blue hair darkening to a dangerous black. "No, you're right. I probably don't understand the joy of being slowly digested in a creature's stomach, piece by agonizing piece. That would be a fate worse than death for most, wouldn't it? But you, Cormac, you're special." He turned back to the Veela, his gaze sweeping over their eager faces. "Alright, ladies. Which one of you wants to roast the leprechaun first? I can hand him over, and you can just... get started."
A chorus of delighted, vengeful shouts erupted from the Veela. Almost as one, their hands glowed with a fierce, ethereal light, and small, incandescent balls of fire began to coalesce in their palms, shimmering with the raw power of their magic. The air around them crackled with heat and anticipation.
Cormac, who had been defiant only moments before, finally let out a piercing shriek of pure, unadulterated terror. He thrashed in Echo's grip, his tiny eyes wide with genuine fright as he stared at the growing flames. "You wouldn't dare! You're bluffing, lad! You're calling my bluff, and I'm calling yours!" he yelled, his voice cracking with fear, even as Echo slowly, deliberately, began to lower him towards the nearest ball of crackling Veela fire.
"Alright, alright, hold on!" Echo exclaimed, pulling Cormac back from the brink of fiery annihilation. His black hair softened to a conflicted blue, then a weary green. The crackling fireballs in the Veelas' hands flickered and dimmed, their faces falling into disappointed frowns. "I… I can't. Even for a pain in the arse like you, Cormac, I can't in good conscience let them do that."
Cormac, released from the immediate threat, let out a shaky breath, his tiny chest heaving with relief. He shot a venomous glare at the still-smoldering Veela.
Echo sighed, running a hand through his now green hair, thinking. Then, a slow, sticky-sweet smile spread across his face, and he snapped his fingers, a soft pop echoing in the suddenly quiet clearing. His green hair brightened to a devious yellow.
"However," Echo said, his voice dripping with false sweetness, "if you don't apologize, Cormac, I simply won't tell you my secret."
Cormac blinked, his tiny red beard bristling. "Your… your secret? What secret? Tell me! You can't just say 'secret' and not tell me! That's not how it works, you great big tease!"
"Oh, but I can't say it, can I?" Echo replied, his grin widening mischievously. "Because then it wouldn't be a secret anymore, would it? That's definitely not how it works."
"Tell me! Tell me now, you scoundrel!" Cormac demanded, stomping his tiny feet in Echo's palm.
Echo merely chuckled, shaking his head. With a gentle movement, he lowered Cormac to the ground, then turned his back on the tiny leprechaun. "Nope," he said, his voice maddeningly casual. "Can't do that. A secret's a secret, after all."
"Please!" Cormac pleaded, frantically trying to scramble up Echo's robes. "Just a hint! A tiny whisper! Is it about gold? Is it about a pot at the end of a rainbow that isn't squashed?"
Echo remained stubbornly silent, a faint, satisfied smile playing on his lips. Empusa, who had been watching the exchange with growing amusement, suddenly gasped dramatically. She clasped her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide with theatrical shock. "Oh, Echo! You mean that secret? The one that is such a big secret?" she exclaimed, her voice just loud enough for Cormac to hear.
Cormac gasped, his tiny eyes bulging. "She knows too?! Now you really have to tell me! Both of you! What is it?!" he shrieked, bouncing with frantic curiosity.
Echo and Empusa looked at each other, a shared, mischievous smile blooming on their faces. Just then, with a faint, chilling whoosh, Peeves the Poltergeist materialized between them, his ghostly form shimmering with delight. He threw an arm around each of their shoulders (or, in Echo's case, phased partially through him) and, in a surprisingly tuneful voice, began to sing:
"We know something you don't know, we know something you don't know!"
Echo and Empusa, still grinning wickedly, joined in: "We know something you don't know, and we won't tell you! No, no, no!"
The other Veela, their initial disappointment forgotten, dissolved into peals of delighted laughter, pointing at the utterly flummoxed and infuriated leprechaun. Cormac stood frozen, his tiny red beard bristling with a fury far greater than his size, torn between outrage and an overwhelming, unbearable curiosity.
Cormac's tiny face, contorted with a mixture of fear and insatiable curiosity, finally crumbled. "Alright! Alright, you big bully! I'll apologize! Just tell me the secret!" He stomped his little foot. "I'm sorry, Madame Maxime! And I'm sorry, pretty ladies! I'm sorry for the underwear! And for being a nuisance! There! Are you happy now?" He glared at Echo, though the fear in his eyes was still palpable.
Madame Maxime, her arms crossed, gave a slow, satisfied nod. The Veela, their fiery glow having completely dissipated, now looked at Cormac with a mixture of amusement and lingering indignation.
"Good," Echo said, his voice firm, his green hair softening to a business-like blue. "Now, Cormac, you're also going to promise that you'll leave these ladies alone. No more mean-spirited pranks. No more 'interesting textiles.' Just... leave them in peace. Agreed?"
Cormac grumbled, but nodded emphatically. "Agreed! Agreed! Peace and quiet for the pretty ladies! Just tell me the secret, already!"
"You'd better keep that promise, Cormac," Echo warned, his voice low and serious. "Because if these ladies catch you up to your old tricks again, I won't be here to stop them from roasting you like a chestnut on an open fire. Understood?"
Cormac gulped, his tiny eyes darting to the still-smoldering Veela. "Understood! Loud and clear! Now, the secret! Tell me!"
Echo leaned down, bringing his mouth close to Cormac's ear. Just then, Peeves, with a mischievous grin, materialized beside them, holding a ridiculously oversized, gleaming brass listening horn to his ear. Echo, with a swift, almost imperceptible flick of his wrist, nudged the poltergeist away, sending him spinning in a dizzying circle.
"Psst," Echo whispered to Cormac, the sound barely audible above the faint rustling of leaves.
Cormac's eyes widened, his jaw dropping. "No! That's... that's a big secret! A really, really big secret!"
Peeves, having recovered from his spin, zoomed back, his ghostly face alight with renewed curiosity. "Ooh! What is it, Cormac? Tell Peeves! Tell Peeves the big, juicy secret!"
Cormac clutched his leaf-hat, shaking his head vehemently. "Never! It's my secret now! And I'll never tell!" He stuck out his tiny tongue at Peeves.
"Echo!" Peeves wailed, turning his attention to the Hogwarts champion. "Tell Peeves! You know the secret!"
Echo simply shrugged, a faint, enigmatic smile playing on his lips, his blue hair shimmering with mischief. "Sorry, Peeves. I don't have the secret anymore. Didn't you know? If you tell a leprechaun a secret, they take it. It becomes theirs. I literally don't know what it is anymore."
Peeves' ghostly eyes widened to the size of saucers. "What?! That's not fair! Give it back, Cormac! Give Peeves back his secret!"
"Can't! Won't! It's mine, all mine!" Cormac cackled, dancing a triumphant jig on the forest floor.
"Well, then," Echo said to Peeves, a glint in his eye, "I guess you'll just have to bother Cormac for it, won't you? He's the only one who knows it now."
Peeves, with a furious shriek, lunged at Cormac. "Give it! Give it to Peeves, you little green cheat!"
Cormac, squealing with laughter, darted away, a tiny green blur disappearing into the undergrowth. Peeves, roaring with frustration, phased through trees and bushes, hot on his trail, their shouts and cackles fading into the distance.
Empusa, along with the other Veela, watched the chase with wide, incredulous eyes. When the sounds of Peeves and Cormac had completely vanished, she turned to Echo, her captivating features still creased with confusion. "Echo," she began, her voice soft, "is that thing true? About telling a leprechaun a secret, and then you no longer know it?"
Echo winked, a finger rising to his lips. "Not a word of it," he whispered conspiratorially, his blue hair twinkling with devious amusement. "But Peeves doesn't know that."
Empusa giggled, a delightful, silvery sound. "So, then... what was the secret, Echo? The one that is now Cormac's?"
Echo leaned closer, and the other Veela, their curiosity piqued, instinctively gathered around, their beautiful faces intent. Echo lowered his voice, just a breath above a whisper, and murmured the 'secret' into Empusa's ear.
Empusa stared at him for a moment, then burst into a peal of laughter, quickly joined by the other Veela, their joyous sounds echoing through the clearing. "Echo!" Empusa exclaimed, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye. "That's not a secret! That's common knowledge!"
Echo put a finger to his lips, his eyes gleaming with triumphant mischief. "Precisely," he whispered, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "But Cormac doesn't know that either."
Madame Maxime, still shaking her head in a mixture of bewilderment and relief, strode forward. "Monsieur Echo," she boomed, her voice softened now with genuine gratitude. "While your methods are, shall we say, utterly unconventional, I must commend you on your efficiency. You have, how you say... handled this most delicate situation with remarkable speed, even if not with... cleanliness." She gestured with a long finger towards the interior of her carriage, now a scene of utter destruction.
The Kneazle, Borb, having meticulously licked its paws clean, let out a satisfied purr. Then, with a sudden heave, it yakked up a rather impressive hairball directly onto the plush, velvet carpet of the carriage.
Echo's eye twitched. He met Madame Maxime's exasperated gaze and then looked at the mess. With a sigh, he raised his wand. "Repairo!" he murmured, his voice resonating with Parseltongue. With a soft, shimmering flash, the carriage interior snapped back into pristine condition, even the hairball vanishing without a trace.
The older Veela, having recovered from their ordeal and now marveling at the restored carriage, approached Echo, their captivating eyes soft with gratitude. "Monsieur Echo," one of them purred, her voice like distant chimes, "you have saved us from such... indignity. Is there anything, anything at all, we can do to thank you?"
Before Echo could even consider an answer, his gaze drifted to the edge of the clearing. James Potter was still there, standing utterly hypnotized, a blissful, vacant smile on his face as he stared at the Veela. He swayed slightly, mumbling to himself.
Echo sighed, a long, weary sound. His green hair flickered to a resigned blue. He walked up to James, grabbed him by the shoulder, and with a sharp, open-handed smack, slapped him across the face. "Snap out of it, Potter!"
James blinked, a red mark blooming on his cheek. He looked around, disoriented, then his eyes landed on the Veela once more. A dopey smile returned to his lips. "Pretty ladies," he murmured, a completely loopy tone to his voice.
Echo groaned, pushing him aside with a shove. "You're a lost cause, James."
The older Veela, still purring with gratitude, repeated her offer. "Is there anything, anything at all, we can do to thank you, Monsieur Echo?"
Echo, still weary from dealing with James, paused. His blue hair shimmered with a thoughtful green. "Well, since you're offering... do any of you fancy making some daisy crowns? They're still in season, and I did offer at the beginning of the year."
A collective gasp of delight rippled through the Veela. Empusa clapped her hands, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, oui! We would be delighted, Echo! To make the daisy crowns with you! It would be truly charming!"
Echo smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through him. "Great. And since you're all so keen to help, are any of you good at baking? I still have that Hag chocolate I got from Granny Ethel during Halloween, and I've been meaning to do something with it."
Empusa's eyes widened. "The hag chocolate? Mon Dieu, Echo, I remember you mentioning it! But... is it truly okay? For us to have something so special, so valuable?"
Echo waved a dismissive hand. "It's fine. If I want more, I can always ask Granny Ethel for another batch. She's surprisingly generous when you bring her shortbread."
Madame Maxime, who had been listening to this exchange with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, cleared her throat. All the Veela instantly turned their captivating gazes upon her, their faces eager and hopeful.
"Bien sûr, my dears," Madame Maxime said, a soft smile gracing her lips. "You may go and make your 'daisy crowns,' as Monsieur Echo calls them. But I expect you to behave yourselves. No more... mischief. Understood?"
A chorus of "Oui, Madame Maxime!" rippled through the group.
Echo raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his green hair. "Is that a rule for me, too, Madame Maxime?"
Madame Maxime fixed him with a look that was both stern and slightly amused. "Especially for you, Monsieur Echo. I have a feeling you are often the instigator of said 'mischief.'"
Echo just grinned, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "Understood, Madame Maxime!" He turned to the Veela, his smile widening. "Alright, ladies, who's ready to make some truly magnificent daisy crowns? And then, perhaps, we can delve into the mysteries of hag chocolate!"
The Veela cheered, their ethereal beauty radiating pure delight. With Echo leading the way, and James Potter still muttering happily to himself about "pretty ladies" in the background, the group set off towards a sun-dappled meadow, their laughter and excited chatter filling the autumn air.
The sun was a warm caress on the meadow as Echo, his green hair a vibrant, contented hue, sat amidst a semicircle of giggling Veela. Daisy chains, intricate and fragrant, were already beginning to take shape, woven with nimble fingers and soft laughter. Sniffles, a furry green blur, zipped erratically across the grass, letting out frustrated squeaks as he tried, and consistently failed, to snatch strands of the Veelas' shimmering hair. Each time he almost succeeded, a graceful head would tilt, a cascade of silver or gold hair would slip from his grasp, and he'd tumble onto his back in a comical heap, only to spring up and try again.
Perched delicately on Empusa's shoulder, Shimmer, his translucent form almost invisible against her dark hair, happily munched on a miniature chocolate cupcake. It was a marvel of tiny baking, made from Granny Ethel's hag chocolate, its rich aroma mingling with the sweet scent of daisies. Now and then, Shimmer would pluck a fresh daisy from Empusa's crown and nibble on its petals, his tiny stick-like body vibrating with pleasure.
Echo, for his part, was in a state of blissful surrender. Two Veela were gently braiding his blue-green hair, weaving in the freshly made daisy chains, their soft fingers occasionally brushing against his scalp. Another, sitting opposite him, would occasionally pick up a mini cupcake, made with the special hag chocolate, and delicately feed it to him, wiping a stray crumb from his cheek with a tender finger. Pip, meanwhile, was a whirlwind of diligent service, zipping around with a tray of pumpkin juice and various fruit tarts, all while sporting his own tiny, impeccably crafted daisy crown.
Unbeknownst to them, a drama of entirely different proportions was unfolding within one of Hogwarts' ground-level courtyards. Dozens of students, their faces contorted with a mixture of disbelief and furious jealousy, watched the idyllic scene before them. Whispers and indignant exclamations rippled through the crowd.
"It's not fair!" a Hufflepuff boy whined, nearly tearing at his hair. "He just gets to sit there with all the Veela, getting fed cupcakes!"
"Look at him, with his stupid daisy braids!" scoffed a Slytherin girl, crossing her arms tightly. "That should be us! We're the ones who actually tried to get their attention!"
Then, a particularly dramatic Ravenclaw student, watching as a Veela gently wiped a crumb from Echo's lips, let out a heart-wrenching sob. "He's living my dream! My entire dream! This is an outrage!"
The commotion, though distant, finally caught the attention of the meadow party. Echo looked up, a half-eaten cupcake in his hand, his daisy-braided hair a testament to the Veelas' artistry. Empusa, following his gaze, squinted at the agitated figures in the courtyard.
"What is wrong with all of them?" she asked, her voice tinged with genuine confusion, her head tilted. "Are they perhaps... unwell?"
Echo merely shrugged, a slow smile spreading across his lips, his green hair flickering with a mischievous blue. "Could be the full moon, Empusa," he said, taking another bite of his cupcake. "Makes some people a bit... emotional."