The week after Newt Scamander's visit saw a return to the usual rhythms of Hogwarts, though Echo still felt a thrill whenever he remembered the awe in the magizoologist's eyes. Classes continued, homework piled up, and the threat of upcoming exams loomed. For Peter Pettigrew, however, the past few days had been an exercise in mounting frustration, culminating in a particularly aggravating predicament this very afternoon. He stood in a seldom-used corridor on the third floor, staring up at the ceiling with a mixture of anger and despair. Perched precariously on a high, ornate sconce, just out of reach, was his favorite Gobstones set. Peeves, the infuriating poltergeist, had snatched it from him during lunch, cackling gleefully as he deposited it in its current, inaccessible location.
"Peeves, you menace!" Peter hissed, jumping futilely, his fingers brushing empty air. He tried again, a pathetic, hopping leap that barely gained him an inch. "Give it back, you ghoul!"
No response, of course. Peeves was likely off tormenting some first-year. Peter sighed, looking around for something to stand on. He dragged a nearby bench, then a stack of dusty old textbooks, precariously balancing them. He clambered onto his makeshift tower, reaching again, his fingertips just grazing the bottom of the sconce. He stretched, grunted, and strained until the stack of books wobbled precariously. With a yelp, he leaped off just as the tower collapsed with a crash, sending books and the bench sprawling across the stone floor.
Peter glared at the Gobstones set, still sitting smugly on its perch. His frustration morphed into a sudden, blinding flash of inspiration. Animagus form! How could he have forgotten? He could simply transform and climb up there! He completely overlooked the fact that he possessed a wand and could easily summon the set with a simple Accio. His mind, fixated on the physical challenge, had entirely bypassed the magical solution.
With a determined grunt, Peter concentrated. A moment later, with a soft POP, he was gone, replaced by a small, scruffy brown rat. His whiskers twitched, and his tiny, beady eyes fixed on the sconce. He scampered up the rough stone wall with surprising agility, his little claws finding purchase in the cracks and crevices. It was a dizzying climb, but soon he was there, perched precariously beside his Gobstones set. He nudged it with his snout, then carefully began to push the pieces off the sconce one by one, watching them clatter softly to the floor below.
Just as the last Gobstone tumbled, a new sound reached his sensitive ears – the unmistakable, arrogant drawl of Lucius Malfoy. Peter froze, pressing himself flat against the sconce, his tiny body trembling slightly.
"...the Dark Lord's desires, of course," Lucius was saying, his voice echoing in the quiet corridor. He was accompanied by two other Slytherin students, both taller and broader than Peter, their faces etched with the same sneering superiority. "He has a particular… interest in young Echo. The boy's peculiar magic, his connection to creatures… it could prove most useful to our master."
One of the goons, a burly seventh-year named Goyle, grunted. "But why not just grab him, Lucius? He's just a kid."
Lucius let out a contemptuous laugh. "Because, Goyle, the Dark Lord prefers to persuade rather than simply take. He wishes to see the full extent of the boy's abilities, to understand them, to eventually… guide them towards his own glorious purpose. We need to observe him more closely. And of course, the information he unwittingly provides about his so-called 'beast magic' through his… friends is invaluable."
Peter's rat heart hammered against his ribs. Echo? The Dark Lord? This was far more serious than a stolen Gobstones set. He flattened himself further, hardly daring to breathe.
"The plan, as I understand it," Lucius continued, his voice dropping slightly, "is to isolate him. To make him feel… vulnerable. Then, when the time is right, offer him a… tempting proposition. One he cannot refuse." Lucius gave a chilling chuckle. "And Severus, of course, will be instrumental in all of this. His access, his proximity… very useful indeed."
Peter's mind reeled. Snape? No, it couldn't be. Snape and Echo had that weird, grudging respect. But Lucius's words hung in the air like a venomous mist.
"This corridor is too open," Lucius suddenly snapped, his voice impatient. "Let's find somewhere more… silent to discuss the finer points of our master's strategy. Come along."
Peter heard their footsteps recede, their voices fading into the distance. He waited, utterly still, for a full minute after the last sound had vanished. Then, with a frantic scurry, he clambered down the wall. This information was vital. He had to tell James, Sirius, Remus, Lily, or… Echo!
He transformed back, shaking slightly, and scooped up his Gobstones, his heart still thumping. As he debated which direction to run, his eyes darted to a nearby alcove. There, curled up on a dusty pile of robes, was a sleek, ginger-furred Kneazle, its intelligent green eyes blinking slowly. One of Echo's 'sentry beasts,' as he called them, was often left in strategic locations around the castle.
Peter, desperate, rushed over. "Psst! Hey! Kneazle!" he whispered urgently. "You've got to help me! I just overheard Lucius Malfoy talking about Echo and… and the Dark Lord! They have a plan! He thinks Snape is helping them! You have to follow them! Find out where they're going, what they're saying!"
The Kneazle stretched, its lion-like tail flicking, its eyes narrowing slightly as it seemed to process Peter's frantic words. With a silent, graceful bound, it slipped out of the alcove and sped off in the direction Lucius and his goons had taken, its form almost invisible against the stone.
Peter breathed a sigh of relief, then immediately deflated. "Wait," he muttered, burying his face in his hands. "He's going to see that a mile away. Malfoy's too smart for a simple tail. Oh, I've messed it up, I've really messed it up."
He didn't have time to dwell on it. He had to find Echo. Peter scrambled back up the wall, transforming into a rat again, and raced along a flat, narrow ledge near the ceiling, a less-frequented route he knew. He peered down into the bustling courtyard below, searching frantically for a flash of vibrant, colored hair. There! Echo, his black hair a calm, focused blue, was walking briskly across the courtyard, heading towards the castle's main entrance. No time to get his attention subtly.
Peter took a deep breath, steeling himself, and leaped.
Meanwhile, Echo was deep in thought about a particularly complex rune sequence when he heard a faint squeaking sound above him. He glanced up, his blue hair flickering with mild curiosity, and saw a small brown rat plummeting directly towards him.
"Uh-oh," Echo mumbled, his eyes widening in the split second before impact.
With a soft POP and a sudden, rather substantial weight, the rat transformed mid-air into Peter Pettigrew, who landed squarely on Echo, driving the air from his lungs.
"Oof!" Echo gasped, the impact nearly knocking him off his feet.
Shimmer, with a silvery ripple of indignant alarm, immediately launched itself from Echo's shoulder, a streak of agitated silver fur disappearing behind a nearby statue. Sniffles, who had been nestled in Echo's pocket, let out a terrified squeak, narrowly avoiding being crushed as Peter's bulk settled on Echo.
"Get off me, Peter!" Echo wheezed, pushing the breathless boy off him. His black hair was now a furious, indignant red. "What is your major malfunction?! You nearly crushed me! And Sniffles! And you sent Shimmer flying!"
Peter scrambled to his feet, his face pale, his eyes wide and frantic. "Echo! The Dark Lord! Malfoy! Snape! Gorgon! Candles! Plan! Secrets! Dungeon! Kneazle! SPIES!" he bumbled, words tumbling out in a completely incoherent rush.
Echo stared at him, his red hair flickering with disbelief. He reached out, clamping a hand over Peter's chattering mouth. "Breathe, Peter!" he commanded, his voice firm. "Just breathe. And then speak. Slowly."
Peter gulped, his eyes still wild. Echo released him. Peter took a deep, shuddering breath, then another. "Malfoy," he finally managed, his voice still trembling but coherent. "He was talking about you. And the Dark Lord. He said they have a plan. To… to isolate you. To use your beast magic. And he said… he said Snape was helping them." Peter recounted the conversation he'd overheard, his eyes darting nervously around. "They want to 'guide' your abilities for their master's 'purpose.' And he thinks you're unwittingly giving them information through your friends."
Echo's hair, which had been a furious red, now settled into a cold, thoughtful indigo. His hollow eyes, usually gleaming with amusement, were sharp and serious. The gravity of Peter's words settled over him, chilling him to the bone. This wasn't some silly prank. This was deadly serious.
"Thank you, Peter," Echo said, his voice quiet but firm. "You did well. You didn't mess up. You did exactly what you needed to do."
Peter, however, wrung his hands. "But I think I might've messed up anyway. I… I saw one of your Kneazles, one of your sentry beasts, and I told it to follow Malfoy. To spy on them. But Malfoy's smart, Echo. He'll see that a mile away."
Echo paused, his indigo hair flickering with rapid thought. Then, a faint, almost predatory smile touched his lips. "Maybe," he said slowly, his voice laced with a newfound cunning. "Maybe that's exactly what we want. Malfoy will see the Kneazle. He'll expect it to be a spy. And he'll focus all his attention on that. Keeping his eyes busy… while something else watches. Something smaller." Echo's eyes glinted. "Something he'd never even notice."
Lucius Malfoy and his two hulking companions, Crabbe and Goyle, continued their haughty march down a deserted corridor, their whispers echoing in the stone hallway. Behind them, several paces back, the ginger Kneazle padded along with an almost unnerving nonchalance. Its tail twitched idly, its ears occasionally swiveled, but its intelligent green eyes remained fixed on the trio.
"Lucius," Crabbe grunted, his voice a low rumble, "that cat's still followin' us."
Lucius merely sneered over his shoulder. "Of course, it is, you oaf. Do you think Echo would send a spy that was easily deterred?" He sped up his pace slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't look at it. It's trying to mislead us, to make us think it's just a common feline. I'm certain it's one of Echo's. We just need to find somewhere it won't follow."
As if on cue, the Kneazle halted, sitting down abruptly in the middle of the corridor. It began meticulously grooming a paw, occasionally glancing up with wide, innocent green eyes, like any ordinary, self-absorbed cat. Crabbe and Goyle exchanged bewildered glances, but Lucius merely gritted his teeth.
"See?" Lucius hissed, without looking back. "It's a distraction. A clever ruse. It knows we're watching it."
Unbeknownst to them, their every movement was being observed from above. High in the rafters, almost invisible against the dusty wooden beams, a shimmering, serpentine form slithered silently. This was Shrink, Echo's Occamy, its normally iridescent eyes now a deep, dark violet – Echo's own hollow gaze, focused and unwavering. Echo had linked his senses to Shrink, effortlessly following the Slytherins as his entire attention was concentrated on their conversation. Lucius, completely consumed by his conviction that the Kneazle was his only concern, remained blissfully unaware of the true spy.
Lucius led them to an unmarked door, tucked away in a rarely used section of the dungeons. He produced a heavy, ornate key and, with a series of grating clicks, unlocked it. "This way," he commanded, ushering Crabbe and Goyle inside. The moment they were through, he slammed the door shut, the heavy oak thudding closed, and then, with a final, triumphant flourish, he engaged a series of intricate locking spells and wards, designed to keep out any prying eyes – or paws.
The Kneazle, still sitting patiently outside, simply blinked, its green eyes unreadable. But high above, Shrink merely paused for a moment. With a gentle shimmer, its serpentine body contracted, growing smaller and smaller, until it was no bigger than a large earthworm. It then slithered gracefully through the narrow gaps in a ventilation grate, disappearing into the darkness beyond, a silent, unseen witness.
"Put a Silencing Charm on the door, Crabbe," Lucius commanded, his voice barely a whisper, even though they were now enclosed within the warded room. "I want to ensure absolute privacy for this discussion."
Crabbe, though not the sharpest tool in the shed, was competent enough in basic charms. He raised his wand, muttered, "Silencio Maxima," and a shimmering, invisible barrier rippled across the heavy oak door. The subtle hum of the dungeons outside completely vanished.
They settled around a small, circular stone table in the center of the room, the flickering torchlight casting long, dancing shadows. Lucius reached into his robes and drew out a small object. It pulsed with a faint, dark energy. "The Dark Lord himself bestowed this upon me," he announced, his voice filled with reverence as he laid it on the table. "It will aid us in our… persuasion of young Echo."
High above, nestled within the gloomy rafters, Shrink subtly extended its head, its iridescent eyes, still a profound violet, fixed on the locket.
"Goyle," Lucius then said, his voice sharp, "the Revealing Charm. I want to be absolutely certain we have no unexpected visitors or listeners."
Goyle grunted, pulling out his wand. "Revelio Omnia!" he intoned, and a wave of shimmering, golden light began to emanate from his wand, spreading rapidly outwards, illuminating every hidden nook and cranny of the dungeon room.
Shrink, recognizing the imminent danger, knew the jig was up. With a swift, silent motion, its serpentine body zipped backward, pulling away from the ventilation grate just as the golden light reached its position. It slithered with incredible speed, a blur of shimmering scales, finding a high but surprisingly small window opening overlooking the castle's exterior. It squeezed through the narrow gap, morphing back to its original size as it emerged into the open air, and then, with a powerful beat of its wings, it flew off, a silver streak against the evening sky, before the charm could fully reveal its presence.
Shrink flew back to Echo at frantic speed. He was still in the courtyard, where Peter, looking thoroughly anxious, was hovering nearby, occasionally poking at Echo's shoulder. Echo remained perfectly still, his eyes closed, his face a mask of intense concentration, his indigo hair flickering with the borrowed senses of the Occamy.
With a soft, almost imperceptible landing, Shrink wrapped its shimmering, serpentine body around Echo's arm. Echo, feeling shrunken on his ram and seeing his own body in third-person view, took out his wand and tapped his head, breaking the connection. Echo's eyes snapped open, his indigo hair immediately shifting back to its normal, calm black. He blinked, the disorientation of returning to his own senses momentarily overwhelming him.
"Echo! Are you alright?" Peter blurted out, relief flooding his face. "Did you… Did you get anything?"
Echo slowly shook his head, a faint frown creasing his brow. "Lucius was far too careful this time, Peter. Very cautious. I couldn't stay linked for long, and I didn't get much. He had Crabbe cast a Silencing Charm, and then Goyle was about to use a Revealing Charm. Shrink had to abscond pretty fast." Echo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Not much use, I'm afraid."
Peter's face fell. "Oh. So… it was all a waste then? I messed up twice."
Echo, seeing Peter's despondent expression, clapped him gently on the shoulder, a faint, mischievous glint entering his hollow eyes. His black hair flickered with a confident blue. "Not entirely, Peter. Don't underestimate yourself. And don't underestimate the stupidity of some people, even when they think they're being clever."
Peter looked up, bewildered. "What do you mean?"
Echo leaned in conspiratorially. "Lucius Malfoy, for all his aristocratic airs and cunning, is utterly blind to certain types of magic and curriculum. Particularly, the care of magical creatures. He has no idea, for instance, that Kneazles possess a natural magical ability to see through illusions and, more importantly, to hear through silencing charms. Completely, utterly oblivious." A slow, knowing smile spread across Echo's face. "He thinks the Kneazle is just a distraction. A red herring."
Outside the heavily warded dungeon door, the ginger Kneazle sat patiently, its lion-like tail flicking gently against the cold stone. Its intelligent green eyes were fixed on the solid oak, which was unreadable. But then, it lowered its head, pressing one tufted ear delicately against the wood. Inside the room, through the impenetrable Silencing Charm, Lucius Malfoy's arrogant voice began to speak, clear as day, directly into the Kneazle's sensitive ears. Every word, every conspiratorial whisper, was perfectly audible.
Peter's eyes widened, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Then… then we got him! We got Lucius, Echo! This is brilliant!" He practically bounced on the balls of his feet, an uncharacteristic surge of confidence radiating from him.
Echo, however, held up a hand, his blue hair flickering with a calmer, more strategic indigo. "Hold your hippogriffs, Peter. Don't get ahead of yourself just yet. We still need to wait for the Kneazle to return and hope what it heard is enough. Even with its heightened senses, there's no guarantee. And Lucius did say something about the Dark Lord giving him an object, but I couldn't get a clear look at it while I was connected to Shrink."
Peter's eyes gleamed. "An object? We should snag it! I can go in my Animagus form, sneak in, and grab it! He'd never know what hit him!"
Echo shook his head, the indigo in his hair deepening with a thoughtful frown. "No, Peter. Not now. Lucius is already aware and suspicious. He's expecting us to make a move, to try and get information. Getting that object would be incredibly valuable, but not when he's expecting it. We'll snag it at some point, but patience is key. I live in Slytherin House, which already gives us an advantage. I can use another creature, or even get Peeves to snag it for me, but I'll have to figure out what to trade for it. Peeves always wants something of equal value or better, usually better."
Peter puffed out his chest. "But I can do it! I can get it! I'm small, I'm fast, he won't even see me!"
"No, Peter," Echo repeated, his voice firm. "We can't be hasty. I appreciate your… Gryffindor bravery, but even bravery should be laced with caution; otherwise, your actions become suicidal."
Peter deflated, his shoulders slumping. "Oh."
Echo clapped him on the shoulder again. "It was a good idea, Peter, a very good idea. Just not the right time to use it."
Suddenly, with a soft rustle, the ginger Kneazle reappeared around the corner, padding silently towards them.
"Speak of the furry devil!" Peter exclaimed, a flicker of renewed hope on his face.
Echo stooped down, scooping the Kneazle up into his arms. "Did you get something good?" he asked the creature softly. The Kneazle, nestled in his arms, almost appeared to smile, its intelligent green eyes blinking slowly.
"Good," Echo said, a grim determination setting into his features. His blue hair sharpened to a decisive dark blue. "I'm going to find Severus. We'll need to add all this new evidence to the Pensieve."
As Echo turned to leave, Peter grabbed his arm. "Echo, wait! Be wary of Snape!"
Echo paused, his blue hair flickering with mild surprise. "Why?"
"I… I overheard a bit from Lucius," Peter stammered, his voice laced with concern. "He said something about Severus and using his proximity to you. He sounded… important to their plan."
Echo sighed, his blue hair settling into a thoughtful, almost weary indigo. "I'll keep that in mind, Peter. But even though Severus doesn't like to admit it, and our relationship doesn't go any further than a close acquaintance, I still see him as a friend. Besides that, during my time of being hollow and emotionless, I've been able to read people quite well. So even if Severus has a way to hide his emotions and true feelings, I'll figure it out when I confront him about this and see how much he's involved." With that, Echo, carrying the Kneazle, strode purposefully towards the castle, leaving a worried Peter alone in the courtyard.
Peter watched Echo disappear into the castle, a fresh wave of self-loathing washing over him. No, Peter, Echo had said, not now. Always "not now" for Peter. Always being told what not to do, what he couldn't do. He was a follower, a sniveling coward who let his friends do all the brave things while he cowered in the background. The gorgon prank, the candles, even just listening to Malfoy – it was always someone else taking the risks, someone else being clever.
Not this time.
A spark of defiance, fueled by shame and a desperate need to prove himself, ignited in Peter's chest. Echo might be smart, but he underestimated Peter's unpredictability. Lucius wouldn't be expecting a rat. He'd be looking for grand, sweeping plans, for clever diversions. He wouldn't expect a small, insignificant creature to slip past his guards.
With newfound resolve, Peter clutched his Gobstones tighter, then scurried behind a large oak tree, transforming with a soft POP into his rat form. His tiny heart hammered with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. He was going to do it. He was going to snag that object.
He raced towards the dungeons, following the faint scent of Lucius Malfoy's expensive cologne. He found the unmarked door, still pulsating faintly with the residual magic of the Silencing Charm. He could feel the wards, a slight tingling sensation on his whiskers, but they were designed to keep out wizards, not small rodents.
He squeezed through a minuscule crack beneath the door, his lithe body barely fitting. Inside, the room was dimly lit by the flickering torches. Lucius, Crabbe, and Goyle were still gathered around the stone table, though Lucius was now meticulously polishing the dark, pulsing object.
Peter moved with astonishing speed and stealth, a brown blur against the dark stone. He darted under the table, his eyes fixed on the locket. This was it. He sprang onto Lucius's leg, a tiny, furry projectile, and began to scramble up his robes, aiming for the hand holding the object.
He was almost there, his tiny claws just brushing the gold chain, when a lightning-fast hand shot out and clamped around his tail.
"Well, well, well," Lucius drawled, his voice a low, dangerous purr. Peter hung upside down, dangling precariously, his heart pounding like a drum against his ribs. Lucius brought him closer, his pale, sneering face inches from Peter's terrified rat features. "It seems we have a rat amongst us."
Peter squeaked, trying to wriggle free, but Lucius's grip was like iron.
With a flick of his wrist, Lucius tossed Peter, mid-transformation, into a dusty storage closet in the corner of the room. Peter hit the back wall with a soft thud, his body reforming into human shape just as the heavy wooden door slammed shut, plunging them into near-darkness. Crabbe and Goyle lumbered in behind Lucius, their massive forms filling the small space.
Peter scrambled to his feet, trying to project an air of nonchalant innocence, though his knees felt like jelly. "Oh! Mr. Malfoy! What a… pleasant surprise! I was just… looking for some cheese, you see. Bit of a craving, you know. The dungeons always smell so… cheesy." He managed a weak, disarming smile. "Lovely room you have here, very… atmospheric. And that object you have there is quite striking. Is it a new fashion accessory? Very bold choice for a man of your… refined taste."
Lucius merely raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Do you truly think I am that gullible, Pettigrew?"
Peter swallowed hard. "Well," he stammered, "what answer will let me go, Mr. Malfoy?"
Lucius's smirk widened, chilling Peter to the bone. "Let you go? My dear Pettigrew, we haven't even begun. You see, I know about you. I know about the Marauders. And I know about your little… arrangement with Echo. Even that girl, what was her name, Juniper? Or something. She's just another mudblood anyway."
Peter's eyes, wide with fear moments before, suddenly blazed with an unexpected, furious anger. "Her name is Lily!" he snarled, his voice cracking with indignation. "And don't you dare call her a mudblood, you pompous peahen in a wig!"
Lucius growled, a low, guttural sound vibrating with suppressed fury, his eyes narrowed to slits as he stared at Peter. Peter, in turn, visibly shrank away, his face paling. After a moment, Lucius reined in his anger, a sneer replacing his snarl. "You've been taking verbal sparring lessons with Echo, haven't you, Pettigrew?" he drawled, his voice laced with disdain.
Peter, still trembling slightly, managed a weak nod. "Even though his spell work is… lame, his words cut deeper than any Diffindo," he admitted, almost to himself.
Lucius, to Peter's surprise, actually gave a grudging nod. "On that, we can agree," he muttered, a flicker of unpleasant memories crossing his face – all the times Echo's verbal assaults had left him wanting to croak. He straightened, his expression hardening. "But it doesn't matter. Now, we have to figure out what to do with you."
Peter, however, seemed to find a sudden surge of courage. He puffed out his chest, though his voice still wavered slightly. "Do your worst, Malfoy. It won't matter. You won't get away with it. We've been collecting evidence on you, enough that not even your family's power and money will be able to get you out of it. Soon, the school and the Headmaster will know before you graduate this year."
A slow, evil smile spread across Lucius's face, a chilling sight that made Peter's newfound bravado falter. "My worst, Pettigrew?" Lucius purred, his voice dangerously soft. "Oh no, I won't do my worst. I'll do my *best*." He stepped closer, his gaze piercing. "Tell me, Pettigrew, what do you think of the Dark Arts?"
Peter, caught off guard, stammered, "I… I think it's wrong. Evil. It corrupts people, makes them do terrible things."
Lucius chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. "So narrow-minded. You think Dark Magic is so bad? You just need to open your mind." With a sudden, swift movement, he grabbed Peter by the face, his fingers digging into Peter's cheeks. He then pointed the tip of his wand directly at Peter's eyes, a chilling glint in his own. "I'll help you see things from my perspective," he chuckled darkly, his grip tightening.