The Marauders stepped inside, their initial fear replaced by utter astonishment. The Room of Requirement, in its current iteration, was breathtaking. Instead of the usual chaotic jumble of forgotten items, it stretched out before them as a series of interconnected, yet distinct, spaces. To their left, a large, plush common room appeared, complete with oversized armchairs, soft rugs, and a roaring fireplace. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with ancient tomes and modern texts, alongside peculiar artifacts and glowing crystals. A small, elegant study area branched off from this, featuring a heavy wooden desk laden with quills, parchment, and a meticulously organized collection of scrolls.
To their right, a gleaming potion-making laboratory, far more advanced than anything they had ever seen, shimmered with bubbling cauldrons and sparkling glassware. Beyond that, a vast, open space, reminiscent of a dueling club, stood ready for practice, its floor cushioned with soft, springy material. But it was the far end of the room that truly stole their breath. The entire back wall seemed to dissolve into several vibrant, living ecosystems – the vivariums. Giant, shimmering trees touched the enchanted ceiling, a clear, rushing river wound through lush greenery, and sparkling waterfalls cascaded into serene ponds. Majestic creatures, both familiar and utterly alien, moved within their carefully curated habitats. A Graphorn munched contentedly on a pile of leaves, its scars almost imperceptible, while a group of Bowtruckles meticulously tended to their miniature trees. In a moonlit clearing, a pair of luminous unicorns grazed peacefully, their horns glowing faintly.
Sniffles, who Echo had accidentally left behind when Dumbledore came to show him the mirror, peeked out from a velvet cushion on a nearby armchair, its tiny nose twitching, then burrowed back into the fabric and scurried back into Echo's robes. Shimmer, the Demiguise, manifested briefly as a silver ripple on a high branch in the vivarium, its wise eyes observing them with serene curiosity.
The Marauders stood dumbfounded, their mouths agape. James, who had momentarily forgotten about Remus, finally managed to stammer, "Wh-what in Merlin's beard is this place, Echo?" His eyes darted from the opulent study to the magical creatures, then back to Echo. "Is this… is this your room? Your personal common room and… and zoo?"
Echo, releasing Remus, gently placed the bewildered Diricawl on the floor, allowing it to wander, where it immediately began to prune its ruffled feathers. His black hair pulsed with a calm, almost possessive pride as he surveyed the space. "My room?" he mused, a faint, dry smile touching his lips. "No, James. I don't 'own' it, per se. This is the Room of Requirement. It gives me… what I need. And what I needed was a place to get away from the incessant noise, the drama, and the general… Marauder energy of the castle." He gestured around the vast space. "A place where I can study in peace, practice my magic, brew potions without interruption, and ensure the well-being of my creatures. A sanctuary, if you will." His black hair settled into a deep, contented indigo. "A place to unwind, to learn, and to just… be, without having to explain myself."
"Blimey, Echo," Peter Pettigrew squeaked, his eyes wide as he gestured around the vast, ever-changing space. "Why would you need something like this when the school has all of that?"
Echo turned, his emerald hair still pulsing with the afterglow of his mischievous morning. He looked at Peter, a faint, almost imperceptible frown creasing his brow. "Whose fault is it that I can't have peace in the castle without pranks or being mocked for my less-than-ideal spell craft?"
Sirius Black, ever the dramatic one, let out a mournful sigh. "That's sad, Echo, truly." Before he could elaborate, a heavy, leather-bound book flew from a nearby shelf and smacked him squarely on the head.
"Ow!" Black yelped, rubbing his head as the others burst into laughter. They all looked up, and a shimmering, silvery form launched itself from the bookshelf, landing with a soft thud on Echo's shoulder. It was Shimmer, the Demiguise, its large, intelligent eyes blinking slowly.
"This is Shimmer," Echo introduced, stroking the creature's matted fur. "My Demiguise."
The Marauders stared, their mouths agape. "A Demiguise?" James finally managed, his voice filled with awe. "How and where did you get a Demiguise of all creatures?"
Echo shrugged, a casual gesture. "The Forbidden Forest. Along with all the other creatures in the several vivariums." He gestured towards the far end of the room, where several shimmering, translucent walls separated different habitats.
The Marauders, forgetting their earlier shock, immediately crowded around the vivariums, their faces pressed against the magical barriers, marveling at the diverse collection of creatures within.
"Just a warning," Echo said, his voice flat, "don't go into the one on the far right."
Of course, Sirius Black, being Sirius Black, ignored the warning completely. "Why not?" he asked, already pushing open the shimmering entrance to the last vivarium. "What's in here, a fluffy bunny?"
He stepped inside, and a split second later, a bloodcurdling scream tore through the Room of Requirement. Black came hurtling back out, his hair disheveled, his face pale with terror.
Echo merely watched, a faint, almost triumphant smirk touching his lips. "That," he said, his voice utterly devoid of sympathy, "is where Grumble, the ex-druggie Bugbear, lives. For his and others' protection."
Remus, still trembling slightly, let out a low, plaintive whine.
Echo, his black hair settling into a calm, reassuring blue, turned to him. "Don't worry, Remus. Morning will come soon, and you're safe here. Make yourself comfortable." He gestured towards a particularly large, plush armchair near the roaring fireplace. "I'm going to brew you a Calming Draught. It'll help with the… lingering effects."
With a grateful look, Remus shuffled towards the armchair and cautiously eased his transformed body into its soft depths.
Echo, meanwhile, moved with practiced efficiency towards the gleaming potion-making laboratory. Shimmer, still perched on his shoulder, chittered softly, its large, intelligent eyes fixed on Echo. It then hopped onto the potion station, its prehensile tail wrapping gently around Echo's arm.
"Alright, Shimmer," Echo murmured, a genuine, soft smile touching his lips. "Looks like we have some work to do. A Calming Draught for a very stressed werewolf. And a strong one for someone of his size."
Shimmer chittered again, its silver fur shimmering as it watched Echo. Echo, with swift, precise movements, began to gather what he needed: a phial of powdered moonstone, a sprig of lavender, a vial of sleeping draught, and a shimmering, almost iridescent Bezoar.
He lit the burner beneath a small, pristine cauldron, the flame turning a gentle blue. As the water began to warm, Echo meticulously measured out the moonstone, grinding it even finer with a pestle. Shimmer, meanwhile, used its prehensile fingers to carefully select the perfect lavender sprig from a shelf, handing it to Echo with a soft nudge.
"Thanks, Shimmer," Echo said, gently crushing the lavender between his fingers, releasing its soothing aroma.
He added it to the bubbling water, watching as the liquid turned a faint, calming purple. He then poured in the sleeping draught, stirring clockwise exactly seven times, his movements precise and unhurried. Shimmer watched, its head tilted, occasionally offering a soft chitter or a gentle tug on Echo's hair, as if offering silent guidance or approval. When it was time to add the Bezoar, Shimmer nudged the small, glistening stone closer to Echo's hand. Echo carefully dropped the Bezoar into the cauldron. The potion immediately transformed, shifting from purple to a clear, shimmering blue, a delicate mist rising from its surface. He stirred it three times counter-clockwise, then removed it from the heat.
"Perfect," Echo murmured, pouring the potion into a small, corked phial. He held it up, admiring the calming blue liquid. "The best Calming Draught I've ever brewed."
Shimmer chittered in agreement, patting Echo's cheek with a soft, furry paw.
Echo handed the phial to Shimmer, who took it delicately in its prehensile fingers. "Alright, Shimmer, take this to Remus, please." Shimmer chittered softly, then gracefully leaped from the potion station, darting across the room towards the armchair where Remus sat, still trembling slightly. Remus, seeing the shimmering creature approach with the phial, took it with a grateful whimper and swallowed the calming blue liquid in one gulp. Almost immediately, his rigid posture softened, and a deep, shuddering sigh escaped him as a wave of peace washed over his transformed body.
Meanwhile, Echo began meticulously cleaning his workstation, putting away ingredients and polishing the cauldron until it gleamed. His black hair, still calm from the successful brewing, pulsed with a quiet focus. He was carefully corking a vial of dittany when a sudden, startling thought struck him. His eyes widened, and he slapped his forehead with an audible smack.
"Bloody hell!" Echo exclaimed aloud, his voice echoing in the now quieter room. His black hair flared with a wave of deep, self-reproachful purple. "We could've used Shimmer to sneak up here! Its invisibility and future sight would've been perfect! The worst thing to happen to us in that case would've been not turning invisible, but into strobe lights and knowing the exact time when your parents go poo from future sight!"
Remus, who had been slowly relaxing into the armchair, his eyes now half-closed in a daze of post-potion calm, blinked them open fully. He looked over at Echo, his wolf-like features contorting into an incredulous, almost comical, "Are you kidding me?" expression.
Echo, seeing Remus's face, winced. His purple hair softened to an embarrassed pink. "Right," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, Remus. Just… under a lot of pressure, trying to think fast, you know? My brain sometimes defaults to the most… unconventional solutions."
The Marauders, who had been observing the entire exchange with a mixture of awe and growing amusement, finally burst into laughter. James, wiping a tear from his eye, clapped Echo on the shoulder.
"Only you, Echo," James managed between gasps of laughter, "would come up with a plan that involves a two percent chance of exploding and then realize you had a perfectly invisible, future-seeing animal right there."
Sirius, still chuckling, added, "And the 'strobe lights' and 'parents going poo' part? Classic. Never change, Echo. Never change."
Echo merely rolled his eyes, his pink hair fading back to its calm black. "Hardy har har," he drawled, his voice flat. He walked over to the armchair where Remus was now slumped, fast asleep, a peaceful expression on his transformed face. "At least someone appreciates a good night's rest after a near-death experience and a healthy dose of experimental magic." He gently pulled a blanket over Remus, ensuring the werewolf was warm and comfortable.
He then turned back to the still-giggling Marauders, a serious expression settling on his face, his black hair pulsing with a thoughtful indigo. "Alright, jokes aside, we need to talk. Do you three have any idea why Remus was still in the castle? Was she in detention or something? It was handy that I made those Wolfbane positions in advance; otherwise, I'd have to do another shrieking shake scene, and I'm not doing that again!"
The Marauders immediately sobered, their laughter dying down. James, running a hand through his hair, looked at Echo with genuine concern. "No, Echo, not detention. We don't know why he wasn't at the Shrieking Shack. We thought he was heading there as usual, but when we went to meet him, he wasn't there. That's why we were out looking for him."
Sirius nodded, his usual bravado replaced by a worried frown. "We checked all his usual haunts, even the library, but nothing. It's not like Remus to just... not show up for his transformation."
Peter, still pale, added, "We were worried sick. He never misses a full moon."
Echo's indigo hair pulsed with a deep, analytical blue. He looked at the sleeping Remus, then back at the three concerned Marauders. "So, you're saying he intentionally stayed in the castle, knowing the risks? That doesn't make sense. Remus is careful. He wouldn't put others in danger, especially not by choice." He paused, a new thought dawning on him, his blue hair flickering with a curious green. "Unless... unless something prevented him from leaving. Or he was forced to stay."
James's eyes narrowed. "Forced? By whom? And why?"
Echo shrugged, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know. But it's the only logical explanation. Remus wouldn't willingly put himself, or anyone else, at risk like that. I do have a few theories, but nothing concrete. Well, we have to wait till morning for Remus to tell us."
Peter, who had been listening intently, now piped up, his voice squeaky. "Wolfsbane Potion? What does that even look like, Echo? And is it… is it hard to brew?"
Echo turned to Peter, his blue hair flickering with a brief, almost imperceptible red. He then sighed, the anger from earlier still simmering beneath the surface. "It's a clear, shimmering blue liquid, Peter, if brewed correctly. Looks a bit like liquid sapphire. And yes," he continued, his voice flat and dangerously quiet, "it's incredibly difficult to brew. It requires rare ingredients, precise measurements, and constant, uninterrupted attention for weeks. It's also incredibly dangerous if you make even the slightest mistake. Why do you ask?"
Peter fidgeted, his eyes darting nervously between James, Sirius, and then back to Echo. The casual amusement had vanished from the other Marauders' faces, replaced by a growing unease. Their gazes, along with Echo's, fell squarely on Peter.
"I-I was just… curious," Peter stammered, his voice barely a whisper. "You know, for… general knowledge."
Echo's blue hair darkened to a stormy indigo, his eyes narrowing. "Peter," he said, his voice now a low, chilling growl. "Tell me. Now."
Peter just shook his head, clamping his mouth shut, his face paling even further.
Echo's gaze flickered to Shimmer, who was still perched on his shoulder, its large eyes fixed on Peter. "Shimmer," Echo murmured, his voice laced with a dangerous edge, "a little peek into the future, if you please. What exactly did our dear Peter do?"
Shimmer chittered softly, its silver fur rippling. It then gracefully hopped from Echo's shoulder, darted to a nearby table, and picked up an empty glass phial that had been left from a previous potion. With a sudden, deliberate movement, Shimmer dropped the phial onto the stone floor, where it shattered into a dozen glittering pieces with a sharp, echoing CRASH. Shimmer then looked back at Echo, its intelligent eyes wide and apologetic.
Echo stared at the broken glass, then at Shimmer, slowly, his gaze returning to Peter. His indigo hair flared with a terrifying, enraged crimson, his eyes widening with a horrifying realization. His voice, when it came, was barely a whisper, filled with an icy, controlled fury that was far more menacing than any shout. "Peter. Did you… break the vial containing a year's worth of Wolfsbane Potions?"
Peter, trembling uncontrollably, squeezed his eyes shut. "Oops," he squeaked, his voice cracking.
Echo's crimson hair blazed. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his body visibly tensing. "Shimmer," he said, his voice strained and tight, "grab me a pillow. Any pillow."
Shimmer darted to a nearby armchair with surprising speed and returned with a large, plush velvet cushion. Echo snatched it, buried his face deep into the fabric, and let out a bloodcurdling, utterly undignified scream that was muffled only slightly by the pillow. He screamed and roared and yelled, the sound a raw outpouring of pure, unadulterated rage and frustration. The Marauders stared, wide-eyed and horrified, as Echo continued to vent his fury into the unsuspecting cushion.
Finally, utterly hoarse and spent, Echo pulled his face from the pillow, his crimson hair slowly fading back to a deep, agitated black. He tossed the cushion aside, then stalked over to a small writing desk in the study area, muttering a string of profanities under his breath in a language none of the Marauders recognized. He snatched two pieces of parchment and a quill, furiously scribbling something down on each.
He stalked over to Peter, his eyes blazing, and shoved one of the parchments into his trembling hands. "Alright, Rat," Echo snarled, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "You broke it, you fix it. Get your scrawny arse down to the Potions classroom, sneak in, and get every single one of these ingredients. Don't touch anything else, don't make a sound, and if you come back empty-handed, I swear to Merlin, I will personally ensure every single one of your future meals tastes exclusively of rotten toad spleens for the rest of your life. Now go!"
Peter, looking absolutely terrified, clutched the parchment and scurried out of the Room of Requirement, the door slamming shut behind him.
Echo then turned his furious gaze to Sirius, who instinctively took a step back. Echo strode forward, shoving the second parchment into Sirius's chest. "And you, Mutt," he snapped, his black hair still pulsing with residual anger. "You're going to the greenhouses. Use that wet-dog charm of yours, or whatever pathetic excuse for cuteness you possess, to 'acquire' these plants. Don't ask questions, don't get caught, and if you even think about substituting anything, I'll replace your entire wardrobe with Hufflepuff robes that are three sizes too small. Got it?"
Sirius, momentarily stunned by the ferocity in Echo's voice, merely nodded, then, with a nervous glance at the still-sleeping Remus, slipped out of the room.
Finally, Echo turned to James, his expression still stern, though a flicker of his usual, pragmatic intensity returned. His black hair settled into a determined indigo. "Bambi," he said, his voice flat but firm, "you're with me. As soon as those two buffoons get back, you're helping me and Shimmer brew this potion. Every single step. No complaining, no distractions."
James, who had been watching the entire exchange with a mixture of shock and mild amusement, now stepped forward, a defiant glint in his eyes. "Hold on, Echo! Why do we have to help? It was Wormtail who broke the potion! Why aren't you making him brew it?"
Echo's indigo hair flared with renewed anger, and he slammed his hand on a nearby table with a resounding THWACK, making the Marauders jump. "I don't want to hear it!" he snarled, his voice dangerously low. "Remus is your friend! He's our friend! Whether Peter's carelessness was idiotic or not, we are going to make sure he has something comparable to a normal life. This potion ensures he keeps his mind and prevents him from becoming a mindless beast, and that is not something we take lightly! Besides," he added, his voice dropping slightly, his eyes fixed on them with an unyielding intensity, "Wolfsbane Potion can only be properly made under a full moon, and the clock is ticking. So chop chop, as they say. Divided and conquered."
James, recognizing the absolute steel in Echo's voice and the unwavering resolve in his indigo eyes, finally nodded, a flicker of understanding replacing his defiance. "Right," he said, his voice softer now. "You're right, Echo. We'll help. Whatever it takes."
Echo merely gave a curt nod, his indigo hair still radiating determination. "Good. Now, while we wait for those two to return with the ingredients, we need to set up the lab. James, help me clear this workstation. And Shimmer," he added, turning to the Demiguise who had returned to his shoulder, its large eyes watching the proceedings intently, "keep an eye on Remus. Make sure he's still resting peacefully."
Shimmer chittered softly in agreement, then gracefully hopped off Echo's shoulder and settled onto the back of the armchair where Remus was sleeping. Its silver fur was a comforting presence.
Echo and James began to prepare the potion-making laboratory meticulously. Echo, with his characteristic precision, instructed James on sterilizing the cauldrons, arranging the various stirring rods, and preparing the intricate weighing scales. James, usually so boisterous, worked with a rare, quiet focus, following Echo's every command, occasionally glancing at the sleeping Remus with a worried frown. The urgency of the situation had finally pierced through his usual lightheartedness.
As they worked, Echo's mind, ever analytical, began to piece together the fragments of the puzzle. Peter breaks the potion vial, and Remus is found in the dungeons. It is all too convenient and too interconnected to be a mere coincidence. His indigo hair pulsed with a deep, unsettling suspicion. He knew Peter was easily swayed, easily manipulated. But by whom? And for what purpose? The thought sent a cold shiver down his spine. This wasn't just about a broken potion; it was about something far more sinister.
"This isn't just about a broken potion, James," Echo said, his voice low, almost a growl. His indigo hair flared with a darker, more intense blue. "This is about someone intentionally sabotaging Remus. Someone knew. Knew about the potion, knew about the full moon, and knew about the consequences if Remus didn't have it."
James stopped polishing a stirring rod, his eyes wide. "Sabotaging Remus? Who would do something like that? And why would Peter…?" He trailed off, the implication hitting him.
Echo nodded grimly. "Exactly. Peter is many things, but he's not malicious. Careless, yes. Easily frightened, absolutely. But to intentionally break something so vital for a friend… no. He was either coerced or he was a pawn in someone else's game." His blue hair pulsed with a thoughtful, analytical green. "And the timing. The werewolf panic. It all points to a deliberate attempt to expose Remus. To hurt him."
"But… who?" James whispered, looking around the Room of Requirement as if the culprit might be hiding in the shadows.
Echo shook his head. "I don't know. Not yet. But I will find out. And when I do," his green hair darkened to a chilling emerald, "they will regret the day they decided to mess with my friends. And my creatures." He paused, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. "For now, though, we focus on the potion. We have to. Remus's safety depends on it."
Just then, the door to the Room of Requirement hissed open, and Sirius Black, looking triumphant and slightly muddied, strode in, clutching a bulging sack. "I'm back, ladies and gentlemen!" he announced, striking a dramatic pose. "And I come bearing gifts!" Straight from the greenhouses, I present… one very annoyed Mandrake, several rather prickly Tentacula leaves, and a rather pungent collection of Asphodel roots!" He winked. "Professor Sprout was… otherwise occupied with a particularly stubborn Fanged Geranium."
Echo merely nodded, a flicker of approval in his emerald eyes. "Good work, Mutt. Now get over here and start prepping those ingredients. James, go help him. Peter should be back any minute."
As if on cue, the door opened again, and Peter Pettigrew, looking like he'd been dragged through a hedge backward, stumbled in. His robes were askew, his hair was a mess, and his face was streaked with what looked suspiciously like soot. He clutched a handful of glass vials and a small, intricately carved wooden box.
"I got them, Echo!" Peter gasped, collapsing onto a nearby stool. "I got everything!" But… I think I might have accidentally set off the fire alarm in the Potions storeroom. And Cleen was not happy. He tried to turn me into a ferret!"
Echo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. His emerald hair pulsed with a weary, exasperated purple. "Of course you did, Peter. Of course, you did." He turned to James and Sirius, who were already trying to suppress their snickers. "Alright, you two. Less laughing, more helping. We have a potion to brew, and a very short window to do it in."
The four of them gathered around the gleaming potion station. Echo, with Shimmer perched on his shoulder, became a whirlwind of precise instructions and swift movements. James, under Echo's stern guidance, meticulously chopped Mandrake leaves, while Sirius, still occasionally muttering about "bloody geranios," carefully extracted venom from the Tentacula leaves. Peter, with trembling hands, ground the Asphodel roots into a fine powder. From a separate, delicate satchel, Echo carefully removed several vibrant purple Wolfsbane flowers, their petals almost glowing in the dim light. The room filled with the pungent, earthy smells of the ingredients, mingling with the faint, metallic tang of magic. Echo's purple hair pulsed with intense focus, shifting between a deep, contemplative indigo and a vibrant, energetic blue as he oversaw each step, correcting small errors, offering encouragement, and occasionally a sharp, exasperated glare.
"Listen closely, all of you," Echo said, his voice low and firm, cutting through the quiet hum of the brewing potion. His purple hair pulsed with a serious, almost stern indigo. "Potions like this aren't just hard to make because of the ingredients. They're hard because they demand absolute precision, complete focus, and an understanding of the subtle shifts in magic. One wrong move, one misplaced ingredient, and you don't get a life-saving antidote; you get a potent poison, or worse, an inert liquid. So watch. Watch every step. You never know when this knowledge might save a life – or your own."
He stirred the cauldron, and the blue liquid within began to shimmer with an increasingly intense, almost electric glow. The air in the lab grew thick with magic, and the scents of the ingredients intensified. Finally, with a soft, resonant hum, the potion shifted. The shimmering blue deepened, becoming a rich, vibrant sapphire, almost glowing from within.
"There!" Echo exclaimed, a triumphant note in his voice. His indigo hair flared with a relieved blue. "It's ready. Now, all we need is a touch of moonlight." He looked up, his gaze fixed on the enchanted ceiling of the Room of Requirement. "Room," he murmured, his voice clear, "I require a window. A window to the full moon."
With a soft, almost imperceptible ripple, a section of the ceiling directly above the cauldron dissolved, replaced by a circular pane of clear, invisible glass. Through it, the brilliant, argent orb of the full moon shone down, casting its pure, ethereal light directly onto the sapphire liquid. As the moonlight touched the potion, it shimmered, then pulsed, a delicate, almost musical thrum vibrating through the room. The sapphire deepened further, then slowly began to resolve into four distinct, smaller whirlpools of liquid, each one a perfect, crystalline blue.
"It's done," Echo declared, a profound sense of satisfaction in his voice. His blue hair softened to a contented black. "Quickly, grab the phials! We have to cork them before they cool too much."
James, Sirius, and Peter, now moving with a newfound efficiency born of the intense concentration and urgency of the past hour, scrambled to grab the small, empty glass phials from a nearby rack. Echo, with swift, practiced movements, carefully siphoned the glowing blue liquid into each one. As soon as the last drop was transferred, he snapped the corks into place with a series of sharp pops.
He looked at the four corked phials, a long, weary sigh escaping him. "Four bottles," he murmured, a faint, genuine smile touching his lips. "Not a year's worth, but still better than nothing. I can always make more at a later date, now that I know I have a somewhat competent, if still rather clumsy, brewing team."
Sirius, panting slightly, leaned against the potion station, running a hand through his now-sweaty hair. He looked at the gleaming phials, then back at Echo, a new respect in his eyes. "Blimey, Echo," he gasped, still catching his breath. "I think I finally understand why Severus always looks so utterly constipated and angry all the time. Potions like this… this is no small task. I actually feel like my brain just got wrung out and hung to dry."
James nodded in agreement with Sirius, his own usually carefree expression replaced by a look of profound exhaustion. "Tell me about it, Padfoot. I thought Potions was supposed to be fun. All the bubbling and exploding... but this? This was like trying to solve a particularly difficult Charms exam while being chased by a Niffler and having a Boggart of my worst fear in the room with me." He ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair, which was now even messier than usual. "I'm never looking at a cauldron the same way again."
Peter, still slightly pale from his close encounter with Cleen, managed a weak nod. "And the fire alarm! I nearly got turned into a ferret, all for a bit of root! It's not fair!"
Echo, his black hair still calm and collected, fixed James with a flat stare. "Fun, James? You think brewing is fun? You must be making first-year concoctions that only require stirring and a pinch of fairy dust. I've had to work twice as hard and concentrate three times as much when it came to brewing even the easiest potion to mend paper cuts." He crossed his arms, his gaze unwavering. "And don't even get me started on the time I tried to make a simple anti-acne potion and nearly turned my entire face into a living, pulsating wart. Or that other time I turned my head into the human fly. Severus was yelling at me the whole time he brewed a reversing agent."
The Marauders stared at him, their expressions a mix of disbelief and growing understanding. Sirius, for once, was silent, a thoughtful frown on his face. The casual ease with which Echo described turning his head into a "human fly" gave them pause.
"So," James finally said, his voice subdued, "you actually... struggled with potions? Like, proper struggled?" He sounded genuinely surprised, almost as if the concept of Echo failing at anything was a foreign one.
Echo snorted, his black hair flickering with a dismissive purple. "Struggled? James, 'struggled' is an understatement. For the first few months, my potions looked like something a Bowtruckle had thrown up. Much like my magic, no matter what I did, nothing would work until I found a way. The only reason I'm any good now is because I dedicated every waking hour to it and found that work around and Severus, despite his constant insults, actually became a fairly decent, if incredibly reluctant, tutor."
Sirius, still somewhat shell-shocked by the revelation, finally broke the silence. "A workaround? What kind of workaround, Echo? You mean like... a secret ingredient? Or a new incantation?"
Echo merely fixed him with a bland stare, then slowly, deliberately, raised his wand. He gestured towards the empty cauldron. "I stir them with this."
The Marauders looked at each other, then back at Echo, their faces a collective mask of utter bewilderment. James's jaw dropped. Peter squeaked. Sirius, for once, was speechless, his eyes wide with incredulity.
"You... you stir your potions with your wand?" James finally managed, his voice barely a whisper, as if Echo had just announced he communicated with house-elves through interpretive dance. "Echo, that's insane! Everyone knows you don't stir potions with your wand! That's... that's practically Potion-making 101! It's dangerous! It messes with the properties!"
Echo merely shrugged, his black hair flickering with an unbothered green. With a swift, almost casual movement, he brought the tip of his wand to his lips and licked away a minuscule residue of the sapphire-blue potion that still clung to it. He savored the taste for a moment, his eyes half-closed in contemplation.
"If a dumb idea works," Echo said, his voice flat but firm, as he lowered his wand, "then it's not dumb at all. Besides," he added, a faint, mischievous glint entering his hollow eyes, "it saves on cleaning stirring rods. And it tastes quite good, actually."
James stared, then slowly shook his head, a bewildered smile spreading across his face. "You know, Echo," he said, looking from Echo to the still-sleeping Remus, and then to Sirius and Peter, "sometimes I think you and Severus are the two weirdest people I've ever met. And that's saying something, considering I hang out with a werewolf."
Echo's black hair flickered with a thoughtful indigo. "Speaking of Severus," he mused, a faint, troubled frown creasing his brow, "why do you three always pick on him so much? It's gotten to the point where I'm ready to snitch on you to Lily so she can deal with it. And we all know you can't beat or say no to her." He crossed his arms, his gaze sharpening. "Sev is anything but incompetent, James. In a one-on-one duel, none of you would stand a snowball's chance in a dragon's maw of beating him."
James, caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic and Echo's unwavering defense of Severus, actually winced. He exchanged a nervous glance with Sirius and Peter, who suddenly looked very interested in their shoes. "Well, I mean... It's just a bit of fun, Echo," James stammered, running a hand through his hair. "He's always so... gloomy. And he's a Slytherin. And he calls Lily a Mudblood, sometimes. It's just a rivalry, you know? And he started it, half the time!"
Echo scoffed, his black hair flaring with an angry red. "And you fed into it because…?" He let the question hang in the air, unanswered, his gaze challenging each of them in turn. "As for the 'Mudblood' comment, I'll be having a very stern discussion with Severus about that particular vocabulary choice, not that I know what it means. It's completely unacceptable." He crossed his arms, his voice hardening, his red hair deepening to a furious crimson. "But let's be clear, James. You three need to stop using Severus as a punching bag for your own insecurities and redefine what you consider 'fun.' A dragon may not feel the sting of a stunning spell, but if you hit it enough times, it'll breathe fire eventually. And I may not know a lot about everything in this world, but I know enough about the people in it. And what I know is that you, James Potter, are intensely jealous of Severus's relationship with Lily. So much so that you constantly try to drive a wedge between them and make his life a living hell. Grow up. If you want Lily so bad, show her that you've grown up."
Crimson hair still blazing, Echo turned his furious gaze to Sirius and Peter. "And you two? Do you think it's 'fun' to stand by and watch? To participate in the bullying of someone who, quite frankly, is far more intelligent and capable than both of you combined? Or perhaps you just enjoy the reflected glory of James's idiocy?" He scoffed, a look of profound disgust on his face. "You call yourselves friends? You call yourselves Marauders? You're just a bunch of overgrown schoolyard bullies, hiding behind your blood status and your self-proclaimed popularity. It's pathetic."
Sirius, his face pale, finally looked away, a flicker of shame in his eyes. Peter, already trembling, sank further into his stool, trying to make himself invisible.
James, however, despite the sting of Echo's words, still tried to defend himself. "That's not fair, Echo! We're not bullies! We're just..."
"Just what, James?" Echo cut him off, his voice dangerously low. "Just trying to impress Lily? Just trying to prove something? You think making someone else miserable will make you happy? Will it make you look better in her eyes? Let me tell you something, James. Lily Evans is one of the smartest, kindest, and most perceptive people I know. She sees through your childish antics. She sees the cruelty in your 'pranks.' And she certainly sees how utterly insecure you are. If you want her respect, if you want her love, then earn it. Don't demand it by tearing someone else down. Honesty, as they say, is the best policy; it's how I got a girlfriend who can see right through me and my intentions."
He paused, taking a deep, shuddering breath, the crimson in his hair slowly receding to a more controlled, but still intense, indigo. He gestured towards the sleeping Remus. "Now. We have a friend to look after. And you three have a lot of thinking to do about what kind of people you want to be. Are you going to be the boys who tear others down, or the men who lift them up? The choice is yours. But I promise you this: if you continue this crusade against Sev, I won't just glare at you from the sidelines."
Echo then turned his attention to Peter, his indigo hair still radiating with a controlled intensity. "And you, Peter," he said, his voice surprisingly calm now, but with an undercurrent of steel. "We have other matters to discuss. You are many things – clumsy, easily panicked, yes. But you are not so clumsy as to shatter an entire year's supply of Wolfsbane Potions by accident. And you are certainly not wicked enough to do it intentionally, not to a friend. So," he paused, his gaze boring into Peter's, "who put you up to it? Who forced your hand?"
Peter, who had been trying to shrink into his stool, just shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin, trembling line.
"Wormtail, mate, come on," James urged, his voice softened with concern. "You've got to tell us. We're your friends. We can help."
Sirius nodded, his earlier bravado completely gone. "Yeah, Peter. Whatever it is, it can't be worse than what Remus nearly went through because of it. Tell us."
Peter flinched, tears welling in his eyes. "I… I can't," he stammered, his voice choked with fear. "Otherwise, they'll… they'll…" He shuddered, unable to even repeat the threat aloud.
Echo's indigo hair pulsed with a thoughtful, analytical blue. He considered Peter's genuine terror. Someone truly powerful, truly malicious, had to be behind this. His eyes narrowed. "Who is 'they,' Peter? Was it that pompous peacock with the good hair?"
Peter looked up, confused, his eyes red-rimmed. "Who?"
Echo rolled his eyes, his blue hair flickering with a brief flash of exasperation. "You know, the one who looks like he bathes in expensive hair gel and thinks he's superior because his family tree is longer than his actual intellect, even though it's shaped like a wreath? The one who struts around like a malnourished Niffler who just swallowed a gold galleon?" Echo paused, seeing Peter's blank stare, then sighed. "Honestly, Peter, do I have to spell it out for you? Lucius Malfoy."
Sirius barked out a laugh, the tension momentarily breaking. "'Malnourished Niffler who swallowed a gold galleon'? Blimey, Echo, I'm writing that one down! Can I use it on him?"
Echo fixed Sirius with a bland look. "You may. And if you want more, just ask. I've got a whole list of choice epithets for him. Just make sure to tell him his hair is a wig, too. He absolutely hates that."
James, however, remained serious. "But why Lucius? Why would he want to go after Remus?"
Echo's blue hair darkened to a chilling emerald. "He doesn't want Remus, James. He wants me."
Sirius barked out another laugh, a little less forced this time. "He wants you? Blimey, Echo, I didn't know old Lucius swung that way! Or liked 'em young!" He nudged James with a mischievous grin.
Echo rolled his eyes, his emerald hair flickering with exasperation. "Hardy har, Sirius. Very amusing. No, he doesn't want me in that way. He wants me for what I possess: my magic. It's… unfiltered, different, raw. And extremely terrifying, even to myself." He looked down at his hands, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow as his emerald hair deepened to a troubled blue. "I don't even know its full reach of potential. The things I've done, both on purpose and by accident… they surprise even me." He met James's gaze, his eyes serious. "Lucius sees me as a threat, yes, but someone else sees me for my potential. Lucius says it's his 'father,' but I think that's a cover-up for someone else entirely. Someone far more dangerous."
Peter, still trembling, finally found his voice. "What… what do we do, Echo? Should we tell the professors? Dumbledore?"
Echo snorted, his blue hair flickering with a cynical purple. He shook his head slowly. "And say what, Peter? That Lucius Malfoy, son of one of the richest and most influential families in the wizarding world, tried to sabotage Remus's potion and expose him? They'd laugh us out of the office." He gestured dismissively. "Lucius has money, he has influence, and he has power that is simply incomparable to ours. Black is an outcast in his own family, the Potters' family name may as well be a worldwide brand name no one looks at, and Pettigrew… well, the less said about that, the better."
He paced for a moment, then turned back to them, his eyes grim. "He's gotten away with this sort of thing before. During the summer, he and two Death Eaters attacked me before the start of the school year. My testimony was the only proof, and even that wasn't enough. This time, we're working off theory. It would be like screaming at a wall and expecting it to fall."
"So that's it, then?" James asked, his voice laced with frustration, his hands clenched into fists. His expression was a mix of anger and despair. "We just… give up? Do nothing? Let Malfoy get away with trying to hurt Remus?"
Echo shook his head slowly, his purple hair shifting to a determined indigo. "No, James. We don't give up. We watch. We wait. Lucius is smart, cunning, and resourceful, but he's not perfect. He'll make a mistake. He always does. And when he does, we'll be there to expose him." He paused, his gaze hardening. "Besides, it's his last year at the school. He's not going to leave without trying something big, something to prove his worth to… whoever he's working for. He'll make his move."
Sirius, who had been listening intently, frowned. "But why, Remus? Why would Lucius use Remus to get to you? What's the connection?"
Echo looked at the sleeping Remus, then back at Sirius. His indigo hair pulsed with a thoughtful, troubled blue. "It must have been a test," he murmured, more to himself than to them. "To see what I would do under pressure. To see how far I would go to protect someone I care about. To gauge my… capabilities." He shrugged, a grim line to his lips. "Whether I passed or failed that test… is still unknown."
A heavy silence descended upon the Room of Requirement as the Marauders absorbed this new, unsettling information. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, and the gentle hum of the magical vivariums filled the background. Shimmer, ever the diligent helper, gracefully darted around the common room area, offering each of them a steaming mug of tea, its silver fur shimmering in the dim light. It then settled near the Marauders, its intelligent eyes carefully watching their every move, occasionally batting away Sniffles, who, despite the somber mood, was still attempting to raid their pockets for stray sweets.
After a long moment, James finally broke the silence, his voice softer now, tinged with curiosity. "Echo," he began, looking at the small wizard, "why do you care so much about Remus? I mean, you've always been… well, you, but you never seemed to take such a strong personal interest in anyone before."
Echo looked at James, his blue hair settling into a deep, contemplative indigo. He glanced at the sleeping Remus, then back at the Marauders. "I relate to him," he said simply, his voice low but clear. "More than you know." He paused, taking a sip of his tea. "We both have… beasts inside of us. Hungry things that are almost uncontrollable without proper measures." He met James's gaze, his hollow eyes filled with a profound, almost ancient understanding. "But while Remus only has to deal with his for one day out of the month, I… I have to deal with mine every single day."
As Echo spoke, a strange, almost imperceptible shift occurred in the ambient light around him. The Marauders, their eyes drawn by an inexplicable pull, looked down at Echo's shadow, stretching long and distorted on the plush rug before the fireplace. For the first time, they truly saw it. It wasn't just a darker silhouette of Echo's form. Within its depths, something pulsed, something vast and formless, yet undeniably alive. It seemed to writhe and undulate, a hungry void that swallowed the light around it, its edges occasionally sharpening into phantom claws or dissolving into swirling, shadowy tendrils. And within that living darkness, they felt it – a profound, insatiable hunger. A hunger for desire. A primal, raw yearning that made the hairs on their arms stand on end. They stared, mesmerized and terrified, at the beast reflected in Echo's shadow, a silent testament to the constant, internal struggle he faced.
"No!" Remus suddenly cried out, his voice a raw, choked sound of pure agony. The calm, peaceful expression on his sleeping face was shattered, replaced by a mask of excruciating pain. He thrashed in the armchair, his transformed body arching violently, his wolf-like features contorting in a silent scream.
Peter, startled, jumped to his feet. "What's wrong with him, Echo? What's happening?!"
James, his eyes fixed on the struggling werewolf, felt a sudden, cold dread. He looked up at the enchanted ceiling, where the last vestiges of the full moon were fading into the soft grey of predawn. "The sun!" he exclaimed, his voice hushed. "It must be coming up! He's… he's transforming back!"
Indeed, Remus's large, wolf-like paws began to shrink, his fur receding, his snout shortening. His bones audibly cracked and shifted, a horrifying, guttural symphony of discomfort. His body convulsed, sweat beading on his pale skin as the monstrous form slowly, agonizingly, reverted to human.
Echo, who had never witnessed a werewolf transformation before, stared, utterly repulsed. His black hair flared with a wave of sickening green. The sight was far more terrifying, far more visceral, than he could have ever imagined. It wasn't a magical effect; it was a brutal, biological torment, a violation of the very body. He felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to look away, to escape the horrific spectacle, but his eyes remained fixed on Remus, a knot of revulsion tightening in his stomach.
Then, amidst the horror, an idea, sharp and sudden, struck him. His green hair flickered, then solidified into a brilliant, electric blue, all traces of revulsion momentarily forgotten, replaced by intense, manic focus. "Hold him down!" Echo shouted, his voice cutting through the sounds of Remus's suffering. "All of you! Now!"
James, Sirius, and Peter, still reeling from the sight of the transformation, stared at him, bewildered. "What?" James asked, confused. "Why? What are you going to do?"
"Just do it!" Echo commanded, his voice urgent, his blue hair pulsing with absolute conviction. "I have a… a dumb idea! But it might just work!"
Without further argument, the Marauders, their faces etched with confusion but spurred by Echo's desperate tone, lunged forward. James grabbed Remus's shoulders, Sirius took his legs, and Peter, still trembling, held down his flailing arms. Remus, halfway between wolf and man, whimpered, his eyes wide and unfocused with pain.
"Remus!" Echo yelled, leaning close, his voice firm. "Show me! Where were you bitten? Where did the curse pass to you?"
With a supreme effort, Remus, his face contorted in agony, lifted a shaky hand and pointed a trembling finger to a spot just above his left hip, a faint, ragged scar barely visible on his now-human skin.
Echo's gaze snapped to the spot. His blue hair pulsed with a fierce, determined purple. He pulled out a short, razor-sharp hunting knife, a wicked gleam in its polished blade. "Hold him absolutely still!" Echo ordered, his voice grim. He looked at Remus, his expression softening for a fleeting moment. "I'm sorry, Remus. This is definitely going to hurt."
With a swift, precise movement, Echo drew the knife across the indicated spot, cutting a clean, shallow line through the skin, just over the old scar. Remus screamed, a raw, animalistic sound of pain that tore through the room.
"Echo! What the blazes are you doing?!" James yelled, his eyes wide with horror as he tried to keep Remus pinned. "What are you going to do?!"
Echo ignored him, his eyes fixed on the small, bloody line. His purple hair pulsed, deepening to a fierce, almost predatory crimson. He held his free hand over the cut, his fingers splayed, and a low, guttural growl, entirely unlike his own, rumbled in his chest. "I'm going to try and pull the curse out of him."
Sirius, his face pale, stared at Echo, aghast. "But… you said it was impossible! You said the curse was embedded!"
Echo's crimson hair blazed. He met Sirius's frantic gaze, his hollow eyes filled with a terrifying, ancient knowledge. "I did say that," he admitted, his voice strained with concentration. "But the curse… it's in a transitional period. It's trying to shift. Maybe… just maybe… I can pull it out from there."
Peter, his voice a terrified squeak, looked from Echo to the writhing Remus. "Your… your beast… can it really take out the werewolf beast, Echo?"
Echo's lips stretched into a thin, predatory smile, his crimson hair pulsing with a dark, hungry energy. "My beast," he growled, his voice a deep, resonant hum that vibrated through the very bones of the room, "is always hungry, Peter. And the werewolf curse… it's looking awfully juicy right now."
He pressed the tip of his wand to the fresh cut, and with a surge of dark, raw magic, a tendril of inky blackness, thin and sinuous as a serpent, slithered from the wood. It plunged into the wound, burrowing deep, seeking purchase on the unseen curse within. Remus screamed again, a guttural, choked sound, his body convulsing even harder in the Marauders' desperate grip.
"Echo!" James yelled, his face pale with alarm. "Can't you do that a bit more gently?! You're hurting him!"
Echo's crimson hair blazed, his eyes narrowed with intense focus. "Gently?!" he snarled, his voice tight with effort. "This isn't like ripping off a Band-Aid, James! This is ripping out a primal curse! There is no 'gentle'!"
He concentrated, channeling every ounce of his burgeoning power into the dark tendril. He felt it connect, a parasitic hook sinking into something cold, ancient, and deeply embedded within Remus. A fierce tug-of-war began, an invisible battle of wills and magic. Echo's body strained, his muscles coiling, his crimson hair pulsing with frantic energy. He could feel the curse fighting back, a malevolent force attempting to reassert its hold, to drag his own magic into its depths.
Slowly, agonizingly, Echo began to pull. He felt something shift, something resistant beginning to yield. A dark, smoky mist, barely visible, began to seep from the wound, coiling around the tendril. It's working! Echo thought, a surge of desperate triumph momentarily overriding the immense strain. I can pull it out!
But as the dark mist emerged, a horrifying transformation began. Echo's crimson hair pulsed violently, then shifted to a frantic, sickening black. Blood, thick and viscous, began to stream from his eyes, his ears, his nose, and even his mouth, painting his pale face in grotesque streaks. He was bleeding heavily, yet he barely registered it, his focus absolute.
Unbeknownst to him, the Marauders were screaming, their voices hoarse with terror. "Echo, stop!" James shrieked, his face contorted with horror. "You're killing yourself! Stop!"
Sirius, tears streaming down his face, was frantically trying to pull Echo away, but the smaller wizard was rooted to the spot, possessed by an unyielding will. "Echo, please! You'll die!"
Even Peter, utterly paralyzed with fear, managed a whimpering plea. Remus, despite his excruciating pain, was thrashing, trying to pull away from Echo, his eyes wide with a desperate, unspoken command to stop.
Shimmer, the Demiguise, had leaped onto Echo's head, chittering frantically, its silver fur sparking with agitated magic, trying to bat at the dark tendril. Sniffles, roused from Echo's robes, was squeaking wildly, nipping at his collar, its tiny body vibrating with alarm.
But Echo heard none of it. He saw nothing but the dark mist, felt nothing but the immense, agonizing pull. He was lost in the struggle, consumed by the primal battle within.
Then, with a sudden, violent SNAP, the connection broke. The dark tendril recoiled, vanishing back into his wand with a soundless hiss. Echo's eyes rolled back in his head, his black hair flaring once, then fading to a dull, lifeless grey. His body went limp, and he crumpled to the floor, unconscious, the blood still oozing from his face, forming a crimson pool on the plush rug.