The quiet calm of the holiday week was shattered by the distant, echoing whistle of the Hogwarts Express. Echo stood on the platform at Hogsmeade, his black hair still and calm in the brisk morning air. He watched as the great scarlet engine chuffed into view, steam hissing as it slowed to a stop. A tide of students, chattering and laughing, began to spill from the train, their trunks and cages clattering onto the platform. The air was suddenly thick with the scent of damp wool, treacle tarts, and excited adolescent energy. His eyes scanned the crowd, a quiet, analytical sweep, searching for familiar faces. It wasn't long before he spotted them: Lily's vibrant red hair like a beacon, Severus's dark, austere form beside her. Lily, her face beaming, waved enthusiastically, practically dragging a reluctant Severus towards him.
"Echo!" Lily cried, her voice bright and clear above the din. Before he could react, she launched herself at him, enveloping him in a warm, bone-crushing hug. Echo, momentarily stiff, slowly relaxed into it, a faint, almost imperceptible warmth spreading through him. When she finally pulled back, a wide grin on her face, she thrust a rather lopsided, foil-wrapped package into his hands. "I told you I'd bring it! My mum's apple pie, still warm!"
Echo, holding the pie carefully, felt a genuine smile spread across his face, reaching his eyes and making them sparkle with a rare, deep joy. "Thank you, Lily," he said, his voice soft and warm, a warmth that mirrored his expression. "Seriously. Thank you."
Lily's smile faltered slightly, her green eyes widening as she looked at him and then at Severus. "Severus, do you see that?" she whispered, a note of awe in her voice. Echo... you're smiling! And your voice... it actually matches!" She reached out, gently touching his cheek. "Your face is moving! You're showing emotions again!"
Severus, who had been observing with his usual stoic intensity, actually raised an eyebrow, a flicker of genuine surprise in his dark eyes. "Indeed," he murmured, a hint of grudging approval in his tone. "The Dementor's Kiss, it seems... has finally relinquished its hold."
Echo nodded, his black hair shimmering with a quiet, profound relief. "Yeah," he confirmed, his smile still in place. "I had a little... help. From Fawkes. And a really, really old mirror." He shrugged, a slight, self-conscious tremor in the gesture. "It appears the magic... it finally broke."
Lily clapped her hands together, a joyful sound. "Oh, Echo, that's wonderful! I'm so incredibly happy for you!" She threw her arms around him again, a quick, exuberant squeeze.
Severus, a rare, almost gentle smile playing on his lips, gave a curt nod. "Indeed, Echo. A most… significant development. I confess, I had thought that particular malady incurable."
Echo, still smiling, accepted their congratulations. His black hair pulsed with a quiet satisfaction. "Thanks, guys," he said. He then lowered his voice, a hint of his old conspiratorial tone returning. "Just… be careful when you get inside the castle, alright?"
Lily tilted her head, her brow furrowing slightly. "Careful? Why? Has something happened?"
Echo shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though his eyes twinkled mischievously. "No reason. Just… general caution. It's a big old castle, you know."
Severus, ever observant, narrowed his eyes. "Echo," he said, his voice laced with suspicion, "what exactly did you do over the holiday weekend?"
Echo met his gaze with an innocent expression. His black hair flickered with a playful green. "Nothing. Nothing at all that anyone could possibly prove."
As they walked into the castle, the familiar grand entrance hall stretched before them, seemingly serene. But Echo knew better. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor of anticipation ran through him. His green hair shimmered with barely contained mirth. He clenched his jaw, biting back a laugh as he watched the first few students enter. A plump first-year sat on a plush armchair in the Gryffindor common room entrance, only for the cushion to emit a surprisingly loud, echoing PHBBBBT. The boy jumped up, bewildered, looking around for the source of the noise.
Next to Echo, a shimmering, translucent figure materialized. Peeves, floating upside down, his tiny, wicked eyes gleaming with pure, unadulterated glee. He clapped his hands together silently, a ghostly cheer for their first victim, his entire form vibrating with suppressed laughter. He held a spectral finger to his lips, his expression one of utter delight, as if to say, Game on, little wizard. Game on.
Echo returned Peeves' silent salute, a genuine, wide grin splitting his face, his green hair pulsing with a vibrant, mischievous emerald. He clutched Lily's apple pie more tightly, a delightful anticipation bubbling within him. Hogwarts was back, and with it, the glorious, chaotic symphony of life, punctuated by the perfectly orchestrated discord of his and Peeves's pranks. This was going to be a good term.
The Great Hall was a cacophony of confused shouts, indignant squawks, and the rhythmic PHBBBBT of deflating cushions. Every surface seemed to harbor a hidden prank, and the entire student body was on high alert, eyes darting nervously from the largest enchanted ceiling to the smallest, suspiciously wobbly spoon. Students cautiously sipped at their pickle-juice-filled goblets, grimacing, while others found themselves briefly stuck to their chairs, yelping as they tried to stand. The suits of armor lining the walls would occasionally burst into enthusiastic applause for no apparent reason, sending shivers down spines, and a crude, unflattering caricature of Cleen's face kept flashing across the enchanted ceiling during particularly tense moments.
At a separate table at the very back of the Great Hall, away from the other tables, Echo was practically weeping with laughter. His black hair pulsed with a vibrant, uncontrollable emerald, and he was hunched over, clutching a napkin to his mouth to muffle the undignified snorts and giggles that kept escaping him. He had lost the 'not laugh' game with Peeves, who was currently performing aerial acrobatics above the Head Table, his spectral cackles echoing gleefully through the Hall.
"Echo!" Lily hissed, her voice a furious whisper as she nudged him hard in the ribs. Her own goblet was currently full of what appeared to be frothing turnip juice, and she looked utterly mortified. "Echo, you fiend! Was this all you and Peeves's doing? Tell me this instant!"
Echo just shook his head, tears streaming down his face, unable to form a coherent reply. He buried his face deeper into the napkin, his shoulders shaking with silent mirth.
Before Lily could get another word out, the grand doors of the Great Hall suddenly burst open with a crash, slamming against the stone walls. A Hufflepuff student, wide-eyed and disheveled, stumbled into the Hall, his robes torn and his face pale with terror. He looked around wildly, his chest heaving.
"Werewolf!" he shrieked, his voice raw with panic, pointing a trembling finger towards the entrance. "There's a werewolf in the dungeons! I saw it! It's coming!"
A stunned silence fell over the Great Hall, immediately followed by a wave of terrified screams and the scraping of chairs as students scrambled to their feet. Panic, cold and swift, swept through the room. Echo, however, felt a different kind of jolt. His emerald hair immediately flickered to a calm, knowing blue, all traces of laughter vanishing from his face. Remus, he thought instantly, a cold certainty settling in his gut. He knew. He absolutely knew. And he knew he couldn't tell anyone.
Echo's purple hair, still radiating annoyance, abruptly shifted to a frantic, agitated white as Dumbledore's words registered. He barely heard the Headmaster's explanation, his mind already racing. He needed to get away, to find Remus, and the chaos outside was his best chance.
Teachers, their faces grim, were attempting to herd students back into their dormitories, their voices raised in a cacophony of "Stay calm!" and "Return to your common rooms immediately!" Echo, a blur of green robes and white hair, weaved through the panicked students and harried professors, his small size and quick movements allowing him to slip past unnoticed. His white hair pulsed with a focused, determined blue.
He reached a deserted staircase leading down to the dungeons, the air growing colder and heavier with each step. The stone walls, usually bustling with students heading to Potions, were now eerily silent. He pulled out his wand, his blue hair flickering with a thoughtful indigo. "Lumos Inversus," he murmured, the spell a whisper in the quiet. Instead of light, a sphere of profound darkness bloomed at the tip of his wand, radiating outwards, absorbing all ambient light, and creating a perfect, moving shadow around him. He was effectively invisible, a void in the dimness.
He moved through the dungeon corridors, his footsteps muffled by the spell, his hollow eyes scanning every alcove and shadowed doorway. The scent of damp stone and forgotten magic hung heavy in the air. His indigo hair pulsed with a worried violet. He knew Remus was a werewolf, and the full moon was upon them. The thought of encountering a fully transformed, uncontrolled Remus sent a shiver down his spine, but the need to help, to understand, overrode his fear.
After what felt like an eternity, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor in the air, a subtle shift in the magical currents, drew his attention to a small, unassuming closet door tucked away in a rarely used section of the dungeon. He approached cautiously, his violet hair darkening to a troubled, analytical black. He pressed his ear to the cold wood, hearing nothing but a faint, rhythmic breathing.
"Remus?" Echo whispered, his voice barely audible, still hidden within the reversed Lumos spell. "Are you… are you in there?"
The breathing hitched. A soft, almost human moan escaped from within. Then, the closet door creaked open a fraction, and a pair of wide, human eyes, filled with a profound weariness but undeniably lucid, peered out into the darkness.
Echo gasped, a sharp intake of breath. His black hair flared with a wave of immense relief, turning to a soft, calming silver. "Remus!" he breathed, deactivating the Lumos Inversus spell with a flick of his wand. The darkness receded, revealing a pale, trembling Remus Lupin, huddled in the cramped closet, his clothes disheveled, but his eyes clear.
Echo quickly pushed the door shut, the heavy oak thudding softly, and then, with a swift movement, cast a locking charm. "Colloportus," he whispered, the spell sealing the door with an almost invisible shimmer. He turned back to Remus, his silver hair still radiating relief. "I'm glad you're okay," Echo said, his voice soft, a genuine warmth in his tone. "You took the Wolfsbane Potion, didn't you? To keep your mind. But… why the hell aren't you at the Shrieking Shack?"
Remus tried to speak, his throat working, but only a series of hoarse barks, low growls, and pained whines escaped him. He gestured frantically at his throat, his eyes wide with frustration and a hint of fear.
"Shh!" Echo hissed, his silver hair flickering to an alarmed white. "Quiet, Remus! You'll give us away!" He winced, then sighed, running a hand through his hair, which softened back to silver. "Stupid question, I know. Of course, you took the potion. Glad you still have your mind, though." He looked around the cramped, dark closet. "Looks like we're stuck here till morning, then," he murmured, a note of resignation in his voice. "I'll ask you about your little appearance in the dungeon after the sun comes up."
Remus's eyes, still wide, looked at Echo with a questioning, almost pleading expression, as if asking if he truly intended to stay.
Echo met his gaze. "Of course I'm staying," he said, his voice quiet but firm, his silver hair pulsing with a steady, comforting warmth. "Someone has to keep you company."
In with a plate of food, saying Remus still hasn't eaten. Remus's eyes softened, a deep, silent gratitude shining through the weariness. He managed a weak, almost imperceptible nod. Echo, his silver hair now a soft, steady blue, took out his wand. "Lumos Maxima," he whispered, and with a soft pop, several small, enchanted orbs of warm, flickering light appeared, hovering gently around the cramped closet, pushing back the oppressive darkness. The soft glow illuminated Remus's drawn face and the damp, close air. Echo then pulled out his Beast Magic notebook and a quill, settling onto the floor. "Well," he mused, a faint, wry smile touching his lips, "looks like we're going to be quite bored until morning. Time for some field observations, I suppose."
Just as Echo was about to start writing, a soft but distinct rap-rap-rap echoed against the closet door. Remus tensed, his eyes wide with renewed fear. Echo's blue hair immediately flared to an alarmed white. He pressed a finger to his lips, a silent command for absolute quiet. "Shhh, Remus," he whispered, his voice low and firm. "I'll take care of this."
He cautiously moved to the door, pulling it open just a crack. His face was grim, and his white hair pulsing with a warning red. "Who's there?" he growled, his voice unnaturally deep and menacing, a deliberate attempt to sound intimidating.
Through the narrow opening, he saw Professor McGonagall, her stern face etched with concern. She was holding a covered plate. "Oh, it's only you, Professor," Echo said, his voice instantly reverting to its usual, slightly flat tone. The red in his hair softened to a surprised green.
McGonagall narrowed her eyes, peering past him. "Mr. Echo, what in Merlin's name are you doing in a storage closet? And in the dungeons, no less? Is Mr. Lupin in there with you?"
Echo's green hair flickered nervously. He glanced back at Remus, whose eyes were now wide with trepidation. "Professor, why would you ask that? The Slytherin House is in the dungeon." Echo stammered, a high-pitched note of anxiety creeping into his voice. "What makes you think… Remus… would be in here?"
McGonagall raised an eyebrow, her gaze unwavering. "Mr. Echo, I can hear a distinct, rather wolf-like whimper coming from behind you. May I come in?"
Echo looked over his shoulder at Remus, who, despite his distress, gave a small, resigned nod. Echo sighed, then pulled the door fully open. "Very well, Professor," he said, stepping aside. "But mind the… lack of legroom."
McGonagall stepped into the cramped closet, her eyes taking in Remus's hunched form and the faint, magical lights Echo had conjured. Her lips thinned, a mixture of exasperation and grudging admiration on her face. "Of course," she said, a dry note in her voice. "I should have expected that, with the castle in an uproar, you, Mr. Echo, would be found precisely where you shouldn't be, doing precisely what you shouldn't be doing." Her gaze, however, softened slightly as it rested on Remus. "And you, Mr. Lupin, always find yourself in the thick of it."
She turned back to Echo, her expression firm. "While I understand your… unique brand of impulsiveness, Mr. Echo, you had no idea whether Mr. Lupin had his wits about him. To run into a potentially transformed werewolf, alone, is reckless in the extreme!"
Echo shrugged, his green hair flickering with a defiant yellow. "I knew the risks, Professor. I made Remus enough Wolfsbane potions to last the entire year, so I knew he'd have his mind. Besides," he added, a darker, more pragmatic glint in his hollow eyes, "I also know how to… handle a werewolf, even if I don't particularly like what I have to do to make it happen."
McGonagall merely sighed, shaking her head. She held out the covered plate she carried. "Mr. Lupin, you must be starving."
Remus's eyes, still wide and weary, immediately fixed on the plate. He let out a low, eager whine, reaching out with a trembling hand. McGonagall gently passed him the plate, and he tore into the food with a desperate hunger, wolfing down the meat and bread in hurried bites.
While Remus ate, McGonagall turned to Echo, her voice dropping to a low, urgent whisper. "We cannot stay here, Mr. Echo. The dungeons will be searched top to bottom. If I could find you this quickly, others will soon follow. Both of you are in considerable danger of being caught."
Remus, hearing her words, let out a mournful, almost human howl, his head dropping.
Echo instantly reached out, his hand gently but firmly closing around Remus's muzzle. "Quit the yelping, Remus," he murmured, his voice firm. "That's not going to happen." He looked at McGonagall, his yellow hair pulsing with a sudden, decisive blue. "Professor, could I bring Remus to the Room of Requirement? It'll be the last place anyone would think to look."
McGonagall considered this; her lips pressed into a thin line. Her gaze flickered between Echo's resolute face and Remus's anxious, wolf-like eyes. "The Room of Requirement," she mused, a hint of surprise in her voice. "A clever thought, Mr. Echo. It is indeed an excellent hiding place. But can you… manage him? In his current state?"
Echo nodded, his blue hair shining with absolute certainty. "He'll be fine, Professor. He's already taken the Wolfsbane Potion. And I have ways to… ensure his comfort and safety." He offered a small, reassuring smile. "No one will be harmed. I promise."
McGonagall hesitated for another moment, then a firm nod of her head. "Very well, Mr. Echo. Make it swift. I will create a diversion to draw attention away from this section of the dungeons. But you must be quick. And discreet."
"Understood, Professor," Echo replied, his blue hair shifting to a focused, determined purple. He turned to Remus, whose eyes were still filled with apprehension. "Alright, big guy. We're going for a little trip. Just stay calm."
He gently took Remus's arm, helping him to his feet. Remus, though still trembling, leaned on Echo, his powerful, wolf-like instincts somehow trusting the small wizard. With a final, urgent nod to McGonagall, Echo led Remus out of the closet.
McGonagall, with a resolute expression, quickly pulled out her wand. "Piertotum Locomotor!" she intoned, her voice echoing through the silent dungeon. Instantly, the suits of armor lining the corridors sprang to life, clanking and stomping with purposeful strides. Their metallic shouts of "Halt! Intruders!" created a noisy, convincing diversion as they began to march towards the main entrance of the dungeons.
Echo moved quickly, supporting Remus as they navigated the now-bustling corridors. The sounds of the animated armor and McGonagall's sharp commands echoed from below, effectively drawing away most of the search parties. His purple hair pulsed with a frantic, determined energy. Remus, despite his weakened state, moved with surprising speed, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he tried to keep up.
"Alright, Remus," Echo murmured, his voice urgent, as they finally reached the main staircase. "We're out of the dungeon. Now all we have to do is make it up to the seventh floor. Just keep moving."
They started their ascent, careful to avoid the streams of students still being herded by prefects and teachers. The castle was in a state of controlled chaos, and their unusual appearance drew more than a few wide-eyed stares. Still, most students were too preoccupied with their own fear to truly register the peculiar pair truly. Just as they reached the fourth-floor landing, a small, wide-eyed first-year, separated from their group, turned a corner and froze. Their gaze, fixed and terrified, darted from Echo's pale, determined face to Remus's disheveled, wolf-like form.
Echo and Remus froze too, a shared moment of suspended animation. Echo's purple hair flared wildly with panic, his mind racing for a solution. Remus let out a low, involuntary whimper, his eyes wide with desperate hope that the child wouldn't scream. Before the first year could even draw breath to unleash a terrified shriek, Echo's mind clicked into gear. His purple hair instantly shifted to a brilliant, mischievous emerald. He put on his most theatrical, exaggerated smile, a broad, almost manic grin that, for the first time since he'd regained his expressions, felt entirely fake.
"Remus, old boy!" Echo declared loudly, his voice booming with a forced cheerfulness that belied the internal panic. "It looks like our after-Halloween prank didn't go quite as planned, did it? All that hard work on this costume, and people still think it's a real werewolf!" He winked conspiratorially at Remus.
Remus, catching on with surprising speed, nodded vigorously, his wolf-like features contorting into what was probably meant to be an amused grin, but came out as a rather terrifying display of teeth.
The first year blinked, their terror momentarily replaced by confusion. "C-costume?" they stammered.
"Exactly!" Echo exclaimed, stepping forward with an air of mock exasperation. His emerald hair pulsed with the effort of feigned joviality. "It's all fake, kiddo! Just a little prank that went a bit out of hand. We worked tirelessly on the animatronics for the moving fur, the scent of stale dog biscuits for authenticity, the realistic… growls!" He gestured vaguely at Remus, who let out another, slightly more convincing, deep growl. "Now, run along back to your room. There's nothing to see here but a couple of harmless pranksters."
The first-year, still looking a bit bewildered but seemingly convinced by Echo's over-the-top performance, slowly backed away, then turned and scampered down the corridor, presumably back to their common room.
Echo let out a long, shaky breath, his emerald hair immediately reverting to a panicked white. He leaned against the stone wall, his forced smile dropping instantly. "Bloody hell, Remus," he whispered, running a hand through his hair. "That was too close. Way too close." He pushed himself off the wall, his gaze sweeping up the remaining staircases. "We'll never make it to the seventh floor at this rate. Next time, it won't be an easily tricked first year. It'll be a prefect, or worse, a professor."
Remus whimpered, a low, frustrated sound.
"I know, I know," Echo muttered, his white hair pulsing with agitation. "And we can't just fly. Everyone would see a werewolf on the back of a griffin, and I can't apparate us both. Don't even know how." He paced for a moment, his mind racing, then stopped dead. His white hair flared, suddenly shifting to a brilliant, thoughtful blue. "Wait. I can't apparate, but I know someone who can."
With a swift movement, Echo pulled out his wand. "Accio Diricawl!" he whispered, focusing intensely. A moment later, with a soft pop, a plump, fluffy Diricawl, looking utterly bewildered, appeared hovering in the air beside him. It blinked its large, innocent eyes at its new surroundings as Echo caught it in his arms.
Remus looked at the Diricawl, then at Echo, a confused whine escaping him. He tilted his wolf-like head, clearly asking what the plan was.
Echo turned to Remus, his blue hair shimmering with an almost manic excitement. "Remus, you're a creature of magic, right? Well, in theory, I can link with a magical creature and use their own aspects and biology, including their magic, to achieve… well, things. With the Diricawl, we can teleport. We can teleport directly to the Room of Requirement without anyone else seeing us."
Remus's eyes widened, and a sound that was half a delighted bark and half a joyous growl rumbled in his chest. He actually took a step forward, looking ecstatic.
Echo, however, held up a hand. His blue hair flickered with a hesitant green. "Now, before you get too excited, I should mention… I've never actually tried to do this with another living being. I'm still working on my transfiguration, specifically, copying and temporarily pasting aspects of one creature into another. It's… experimental."
Remus's expression instantly shifted from joy to profound worry. His wolf-like features contorted with apprehension.
Echo offered a reassuring, if slightly unsettling, smile. "It's fine, it's fine! Don't freak out. There's only a 2% chance that we'll explode. And a five percent chance that one of us loses a limb. One of those limbs being… our heads." He quickly added, seeing Remus's terror-stricken face. "But those are still good odds, and I've been practicing a lot! Now, stand close to me, and keep a hand – er, paw – on the Diricawl."
Remus, still looking utterly terrified, but with no other options, shuffled closer to Echo, carefully placing a trembling paw on the bewildered Diricawl. Echo took a deep breath, his green hair pulsing with intense concentration, then firmly grasped Remus's arm with one hand and the Diricawl with the other.
"Alright," Echo mumbled, his voice tight with focus. "Here goes nothing. Or, well, hopefully, something."
He closed his eyes, visualizing the Room of Requirement, the exact spot in the vivarium where he wanted to land. He felt the familiar surge of magic, a raw, untamed power that now seemed to flow through him with less resistance. He channeled the Diricawl's innate ability, pushing it through Remus and then himself, focusing on the instantaneous spatial displacement.
There was a sickening lurch, a sensation like being squeezed through a very tight tube, followed by a dizzying disorientation. For a split second, Echo felt a strange, primal fear, a brief, horrifying connection to a wild, untamed magic. Then, with a soft pop, the sensation ended.
They found themselves standing in a deserted, dimly lit corridor on the seventh floor, directly opposite the familiar, unassuming stretch of wall where the Room of Requirement usually appeared. The Diricawl, still clutched in Echo's arm, let out a nervous little chirp, its feathers ruffled. Remus, still in his semi-transformed state, swayed slightly, his eyes wide and a little glassy.
Echo, his blue hair slowly fading back to its calm black, blinked, then looked around, a faint frown creasing his brow. "Well, that was… not precisely the target coordinates," he murmured, adjusting his grip on the Diricawl. "I was aiming for inside the vivarium, not outside the door. Still," he added, a wry, self-deprecating smile touching his lips, "given the two-to-five percent chance of catastrophic dismemberment, I suppose we shouldn't look a gift Hippogriff in the mouth. This is, by far, the best possible outcome."
Just as he was about to rap on the wall for the Room to appear, the Diricawl in his arms suddenly honked loudly, a sharp, warning sound that startled them both. Echo and Remus spun around, Echo's wand already leaping into his hand, his black hair flaring with an alarmed crimson. His hollow eyes narrowed, scanning the empty corridor, bracing for the sight of a professor or, worse, a fully transformed werewolf.
But there was no monstrous beast, no stern-faced teacher. Instead, standing a few feet away, looking utterly bewildered but undeniably human, were the remaining Marauders: James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Petigrew. James, his usually impeccably styled hair now slightly mussed, held a half-eaten pumpkin pasty, while Sirius, ever the dramatic, was mid-yawn, his long black hair falling over his eyes.
Echo and Remus both let out a simultaneous, profound gasp of relief, the tension draining from their bodies almost visibly. Echo's crimson hair instantly softened to a grateful, almost sheepish green.
"Oh, thank Merlin's saggy left ear," Echo breathed, lowering his wand. "I am so incredibly glad it's just you three. I was genuinely not ready to knock someone out and hope they'd chalk it up to a particularly vivid bad dream."
Sirius, having finally processed the sight of a disheveled Remus and a relieved Echo holding a Diricawl, raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Knock someone out, eh, Echo? And how exactly did you plan on doing that? With a stern lecture on the importance of spatial awareness?"
Echo merely fixed Sirius with a bland, unwavering stare. He then slowly and deliberately reached out and placed his hand flat against the ancient stone wall beside him. With a soft, almost imperceptible flexing of his fingers, a spiderweb of fine cracks spread outwards from his palm, radiating across the seemingly impenetrable stone. A tiny shard of rock detached itself and fell to the floor with a soft clink. Sirius and James stared, their jaws slightly agape, at the now-cracked wall, then back at Echo's impassive face.
James finally found his voice, a high-pitched squeak. "Echo! What in blazes are you doing with Remus? And what's with the… the chicken?" he pointed a trembling finger at the bewildered Diricawl.
Echo merely raised an eyebrow, his green hair pulsing with a hint of dry sarcasm. "Funny, James. I was about to ask you the same thing. Last I checked, you lot were supposed to be his caretakers when he gets all… snarly and man-hungry. Where were you when a first-year was screaming about a werewolf in the dungeons, eh?"
Sirius, recovering his composure, bristled. "We were looking for him! We split up. We couldn't find him anywhere near the dungeons, so we figured he'd panic and try to get as far away as possible."
Echo's green hair flickered with an amused, knowing blue. "And so, you thought to yourself, 'Ah, yes, the seventh floor! The most logical place for a panicked werewolf to make a beeline, even though the screams were coming from the dungeon!" he finished, a flat, unimpressed tone in his voice.
From behind James, a small, squeaky voice chimed in. Peter Pettigrew, pale and trembling, finally emerged from behind his taller friends. "W-we thought… he'd try to get to the upper floors. To… to hide. Away from everyone." He gestured vaguely upwards. "We were… kinda right."
James, ignoring Peter, stepped closer to Echo, his face a mixture of accusation and genuine concern. "Alright, Echo, enough with the smart remarks. What were you doing with Remus? What were you planning?"
Echo sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. His blue hair pulsed with exaggerated patience. "Oh, you know," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I was planning to butcher him, obviously. Then I was going to wear his hide like a very fashionable, if slightly hairy, coat. Perhaps make a nice set of wolf-fur slippers to complete the ensemble." He paused, fixing James with a pointed stare. "Or, and this is just a wild theory, I was attempting to hide him in the Room of Requirement, given the entire castle is currently in a state of terrified panic and searching for a werewolf."
"We're not leaving you with the likes of Echo, mate!" James stated, pulling Remus's werewolf arm away from Echo with a possessive tug.
Echo rolled his eyes, his black hair flickering with a brief, annoyed red. "What do you think I'm going to do?" he asked, his voice flat, gesturing to Remus. "Even if he's still mild-mannered Remus Lupin under all the teeth and claws, he's twice my size and five times my strength. Do you honestly think I'm going to use the Crucio Curse on him?" Echo scoffed. "He could blindside me before I could even wind up and speak the first syllable."
Remus whined softly, a low, embarrassed sound.
Echo blinked, his red hair softening to a troubled orange. "Oh, right," he mumbled, a faint blush touching his cheeks. "I forgot you weren't entirely in your right mind last month. But yeah, I did have to use the Crucio Curse so you wouldn't tear James in half, or, Merlin forbid, kill Sniffles, after a certain group of imbeciles tried to use your condition as a prank." His black hair flashed with anger as he turned his gaze, now sharp and accusatory, to the thoroughly embarrassed Marauders.
Black, recovering slightly, crossed his arms. "Still not leaving him alone with you."
Echo sighed, running a hand through his hair. His grey hair settled into a resigned black. "Fine," he relented, pulling open the heavy door to the Room of Requirement. "You can come in. But if any of you tell anyone about this, or mess up my sanctuary, I will replace your shampoo with Cornish Pixie pheromones. And just so you know, Cornish Pixies have extremely violent orgies when mating."
The Marauders blanched, a collective shiver running through them. "Violent… orgies?" Peter squeaked.
"Indeed," Echo confirmed, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touching his lips as he gestured them inside. "Consider yourselves warned."
The Marauders exchanged nervous glances, then, with much trepidation, followed Echo and Remus into the Room of Requirement. The door swung shut behind them with a soft thud, sealing them within its ever-shifting walls.