The crisp, cool air of the Scottish Highlands whipped past Echo's face, a stark contrast to the indignity of his current predicament. He hung, unceremoniously, in the massive, pearly-white mouth of an Abraxan, its powerful wings beating a steady rhythm against the vast expanse of sky. Below, the rolling green hills and distant, shimmering lochs of Scotland stretched out like a patchwork quilt, a beautiful sight he was entirely too annoyed to appreciate. This was not how he'd envisioned his participation in the Triwizard Tournament festivities. Kidnapped by a giant, flying horse? Really?
"Alright, you've had your fun, now can you please put me down now?" Echo's voice, though muffled by the Abraxan's surprisingly gentle grip, carried a distinct edge of exasperation.
He tried to shift, to emphasize his point, but the horse merely continued its majestic flight, seemingly deaf to his pleas. His hair, a frustrated red, flickered with every beat of its wings. Just as he was contemplating a more forceful, magical approach – a difficult feat when one's wand was still tucked securely in a pocket, and one's body was currently serving as a giant horse's chew toy – a tiny, indignant voice pierced the wind.
"Let him go, you big brute!"
Echo craned his neck, a sliver of amusement cutting through his irritation. Perched precariously on the Abraxan's broad back, his tiny feet stomping in a futile attempt to command the colossal creature, was Pip. The house-elf, no bigger than Echo's forearm, was a furious blur of green and white, his ears flapping wildly in the wind.
"Pip, stop trying to get him to let me go!" Echo shouted, his voice a little clearer now. "We're not exactly in a place to be 'let go' of!"
Pip paused his furious stomping, his large eyes blinking in confusion. "Not… not a place, Master Echo?" He looked down, then his eyes widened to comical proportions. A small, horrified gasp escaped him as he realized they were indeed hundreds of feet above the ground, the world a dizzying blur beneath them. With a terrified squeak, Pip abandoned his valiant efforts and, with surprising agility, scrambled to grab a handful of the Abraxan's thick mane, clinging on for dear life.
Echo sighed, the red in his hair dimming to a weary black. "At least Wick isn't here to see me like this," he muttered, more to himself than to the terrified house-elf. "Otherwise, she'd definitely try to eat the Abraxan."
As if on cue, a searing ball of fire, bright green and crackling with raw magic, shot past them, narrowly missing the Abraxan's head. The flying horse whinnied in pure panic, its powerful body jolting mid-air.
Then, emerging from the swirling clouds behind them, a familiar, colossal form materialized. Wick, Echo's magnificent dragon, her scales gleaming in the sunlight, let out a deafening roar, a sound that vibrated through the very air. Her eyes, usually a warm, golden hue, blazed with an incandescent fury at the sight of her father being carried off in the mouth of a…horse.
Echo closed his eyes, his black hair flaring a desperate violet. "Speak of the devil," he groaned, the words barely audible over Wick's enraged roar. "Why did I have to open my big fat mouth? This is going to go horribly wrong."
The Abraxan, now truly terrified, began a series of desperate, bone-jarring evasive maneuvers. It twisted and turned, banking sharply through the clouds, trying to outrun Wick's relentless pursuit. Echo, still clutched in its mouth, was flung violently from side to side, its head rattling against the horse's firm palate. His hair, a chaotic storm of red and violet, mirrored the frantic chaos of the chase.
"If you want Wick off your tail, you're going to have to let me go!" Echo yelled, his voice strained as he bounced against the Abraxan's teeth. "She's not going to stop as long as you have me!"
Whether it was the sheer terror of Wick's fiery breath singeing its hindquarters or the sudden, desperate logic of Echo's words, the Abraxan made a split-second decision. With a sudden, jarring release, it opened its mouth.
"WHOA!" Echo screamed, plummeting through the air. "That's not what I meant!"
He tumbled uncontrollably, the wind rushing past his ears, the ground a rapidly approaching blur. Above him, Wick, momentarily distracted by her father's sudden descent, let out a confused roar before resuming her furious chase of the now-unburdened Abraxan. Echo watched, helpless, as the dragon's massive form disappeared into the clouds, still spitting fire. He fumbled for his wand, only to realize with a sickening lurch that it had slipped from its holster during his uncontrolled fall. He was wandless, thousands of feet in the air, and rapidly accelerating towards the Scottish Highlands. His mind raced, trying to conjure a solution, a spell, anything, but his thoughts were a jumbled mess of panic.
Just as the ground seemed to rush up to meet him, a small, green blur appeared beside him. Pip, his eyes wide with frantic determination, grabbed a handful of Echo's shirt. With a soft *pop, the world spun, and then, with an equally soft *thump, they landed. Echo found himself buried in a surprisingly soft, yielding pile of leaves and bushes. He untangled himself, spitting out a mouthful of foliage.
"Thanks, Pip," he wheezed, still catching his breath. "For the quick save."
"Pip is welcome, Sir Echo!" Pip chirped, his tiny chest puffing out with pride. "Pip is always ready to save Sir Echo!"
Echo slowly pulled himself and a still-shaking Pip out of the tangled bushes, spitting out a few stray leaves. He looked up at the sky, where Wick's enraged roars still echoed, punctuated by the faint, terrified whinnies of the Abraxan.
"Well," Echo muttered, brushing dirt from his robes, his hair a resigned black. "I hope that particular Abraxan wasn't too important. I fully expect Wick to consume it in vengeance."
Pip, who had finally regained some semblance of composure, tugged at Echo's sleeve. "Pip can apparate Master Echo back to Hogwarts now!" he chirped, eager to escape the lingering scent of dragon fire and horse terror.
Echo shook his head. "Nah, I'm really not in the mood to suddenly appear back, especially after the spectacle I unwittingly created." He glanced around at the breathtaking scenery of the Scottish Highlands, the majestic mountains rising in the distance, shrouded in a soft, ethereal mist. "Besides, this is the first time I've ever really been to the Scottish Highlands surrounding Hogwarts. I think I'll take it easy and take my time getting back to school."
With a thoughtful hum, Echo extended his wand, his black hair shimmering with a soft, ethereal blue as he focused his Beast Magic. A moment later, the air shimmered, and a magnificent unicorn, its coat a dazzling white and its horn spiraling elegantly, materialized before them.
"Hey, Skip," Echo said, a small smile touching his lips. He climbed onto the unicorn's back, Pip scrambling to settle in front of him. "Take your time taking us back to Hogwarts, okay? I want to take in the sights and scenery."
Skip, with a gentle nod of her head, did just that. She trotted at a brisk, unhurried pace down the mountains, her hooves making barely a sound on the soft earth, carrying Echo and Pip back towards the imposing castle in the distance.
The Great Hall was a dazzling spectacle, overflowing with students from all three wizarding schools. The air hummed with a mix of accents—the crisp French of Beauxbatons, the guttural rumble of Durmstrang, and the familiar chatter of Hogwarts. Long tables, laden with an array of magnificent dishes, stretched across the hall; each housed a vibrant splash of color amidst the foreign uniforms.
At their usual, slightly secluded table in the back, Lily, Amos, Frank, and Severus sat amidst the joyous chaos. But for Lily, the celebratory atmosphere felt muted. She picked at her roast beef, her eyes darting towards the massive oak doors, a frown creasing her brow.
"Not hungry, Lily?" Frank asked, noticing her untouched plate.
Lily sighed, her gaze still fixed on the doors. "I'm just worried about Echo. He's been gone longer than he should." A tiny, furry head, Sniffles, poked out from her robe pocket, chittering softly as if in agreement.
Severus, who had been idly stirring his pumpkin juice, glanced at her. "Don't worry, Lily," he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "He's perfectly fine, as usual. He's just waiting for the perfect moment to make a grand entrance, as he always does." As if on cue, a shimmering, almost invisible hand, Shimmer, reached out, deftly snatching a sausage from Severus's plate and then retreating, its eyes, or where its eyes would be, fixed expectantly on the Great Hall doors.
The massive oak doors of the Great Hall swung open with a dramatic creak, and all chatter instantly died. Every head turned as a creature of breathtaking beauty strode into the hall – a unicorn, its coat a dazzling white, its horn spiraling towards the enchanted ceiling. A collective gasp rippled through the students. Such a timid, ethereal beast, yet it walked with undeniable grace right into the heart of the castle, as if it were no different from any other part of the forest, its hooves making barely a sound on the stone floor.
Madam Maxime, her imposing figure momentarily forgotten, watched with wide eyes, a look of profound admiration on her face. Who was this elegant person, she wondered, capable of riding and controlling such a magnificent creature?
Igor Karkaroff, however, was less amused. His shifty eyes, which had been fixed on the bountiful feast, snapped towards the unicorn, narrowing with a mix of suspicion and outright disdain. A low growl rumbled in his chest, and his hand instinctively went to the hilt of his wand, a flicker of genuine malice crossing his features. Unicorns were creatures of pure light and innocence, anathema to everything Durmstrang, and indeed Karkaroff himself, stood for. He watched the majestic beast with an expression of profound disgust, as if it were a particularly odious cockroach scuttling across his banquet table. He was clearly trying to suppress a sneer.
The unicorn took a few more steps into the hall, then, with a gentle turn, revealed its rider. And to the shock of everyone, it was none other than Echo, sprawled face down on the unicorn's rear, using the beast's butt as a pillow. His arms were bent at awkward angles, his legs twitched occasionally, and a sound that was a cross between a snore and a choking gurgle escaped him as he apparently enjoyed a remarkably comfortable nap.
Lily's jaw dropped. Frank stared, a half-eaten roll forgotten in his hand. Amos blinked repeatedly, as if trying to clear his vision. Even Severus, who had predicted a grand entrance, looked utterly bewildered. Shimmer, perched on his shoulder, chittered in what sounded like exasperated amusement. Sniffles, still peeking from Lily's pocket, let out a tiny, indignant squeak of excitement at seeing Echo.
Echo snorted a few times in his sleep, then finally stirred. He sat up, stretching his arms above his head with a loud yawn, and wiped a trail of drool from his chin. "Ah, what a great nap," he mumbled, his voice carrying clearly in the stunned silence of the hall. He looked around, his eyes slowly focusing on the hundreds of staring faces. "Huh," he said, a puzzled frown on his face. "Oh. Am I having that kinda dream again?" He then began systematically to debunk his own thoughts. "Nope, not giving a presentation, I'm not ready for, still in my clothes. Headmaster Dumbledore's not wearing a tuna fish as a hat. Professor McGonagall doesn't have a rooster's head. And no mermaid riding a bicycle on the ceiling."
Just then, with a sudden whoosh, Peeves the Poltergeist swooped into the hall, dressed in a shimmering green mermaid costume, riding a bicycle upside down on the enchanted ceiling, loudly ringing a bell.
Echo shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Four out of five, not bad." Echo's eyes widened, a flicker of genuine alarm replacing his earlier confusion. "Wait a minute," he mumbled, his black hair flickering with a sudden, agitated red. "This isn't a dream. This is... real!" He scrambled to get a better grip on the unicorn, realizing with a jolt that he was still draped unceremoniously across its back. "Skip!" he hissed, turning his head to scold the majestic creature. "You couldn't have just left me by the front door! I was going to sneak in and not make a scene!" He gestured wildly at his current predicament. "Now I'm just sitting here, looking like some damsel in distress, waiting to be rescued atop my noble steed!"
Skip, the unicorn, let out a playful snort and gave a gentle shake, threatening to dislodge him entirely. Lily, seeing Echo's precarious position, reacted swiftly. She rushed forward, catching him before he could tumble to the ground. Echo landed in her arms with a soft thud, his red hair settling into a more subdued blue.
"Well," Echo said, a theatrical sigh escaping him as he sat in Lily's embrace, "I'm already like this, so I might as well embrace it." He then launched into a dramatic speech, "Oh, my good knight, Lily! You have rescued me from my perilous perch!" He reached into his robe, pulling out a single, slightly crushed flower that had gotten caught in the fabric. "Please, accept this token of my eternal gratitude!"
Lily, trying to suppress a giggle, snorted a laugh. Then, with a mischievous grin, she simply dropped him. Echo landed on the stone floor with an "oof," much to the amusement of the entire Great Hall, which erupted in a wave of laughter. Skip, the unicorn, gave another soft whinny, then turned and gracefully strode out of the Great Hall and back outside, leaving Echo to pick himself up amidst the lingering chuckles.
Echo brushed himself off, his blue hair returning to its usual, calm hue. He glared playfully at Lily, who was still trying to stifle her laughter. "Very funny, Lil," he grumbled, though a faint smile touched his lips. He then looked around at the still-chuckling students, his gaze sweeping over the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegations. He noticed that the younger Veela, the one who had winked at him, was now covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
Dumbledore, after a moment of enjoying the spectacle, cleared his throat, his eyes twinkling. "Indeed, a most memorable entrance, Mr. Echo. Now, if you'll all please resume your feast, we have a great many delightful dishes to enjoy."
Just as Echo finished his sentence, a booming, yet elegant, voice cut through the lingering merriment. "Mr. Echo," Madame Maxime said, her imposing figure standing tall beside Dumbledore at the head table, her eyes fixed on him with a keen, expectant gaze. "Before we all truly settle into this delightful feast, perhaps you could enlighten me as to the whereabouts of my lead Abraxan? The one that seemed to take such an… unusual interest in you."
Echo paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. His green hair flickered with a sudden, anxious orange. He looked away, focusing intently on a particularly intricate carving on the opposite wall, drawing out a single, excruciatingly long "Uh…"
Madame Maxime's brow furrowed, a hint of steel entering her voice. "Is there a problem, Mr. Echo?"
"Uh… was that particular Abraxan… special, Madame Maxime?" Echo finally managed, his voice a little strained.
The Beauxbatons headmistress narrowed her eyes. "Indeed, it was. Bastien was our finest lead, the most spirited and intelligent of the entire flock. Why do you ask?"
Echo sucked air between his teeth, a high-pitched, drawn-out hiss. His orange hair darkened to a worried red, then to a profound, almost terrified black. "The problem, Madame Maxime," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "is how I'm going to try and explain it to you."
"Explain what, Mr. Echo?" Madame Maxime asked, her tone now dangerously calm.
Echo swallowed hard, his black hair swirling with a tormented mix of red and grey. "How I should… how I should tell you that Bastien… passed." He winced, waiting for the inevitable.
"Passed?" Madame Maxime repeated, her voice a low, rumbling echo.
Echo nodded miserably. "Yeah. I'm just not sure if I should tell you he passed on to the afterlife, or if he's currently passing through the digestive tract of a rather large dragon."
A collective gasp of shock ripped through the Great Hall, particularly from the Beauxbatons delegation. Madame Maxime's face, usually so composed, contorted with a mixture of horror and outrage. "You… you allowed my prized Abraxan to be eaten by a wild dragon, Mr. Echo?!" she thundered, her voice booming, causing the very Goblet of Fire to flicker.
Echo let out a nervous, high-pitched laugh, his black hair flickering with frantic red and yellow. "'Allowed' is a strong word, Madame Maxime," he stammered, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "I wasn't exactly in control of Bastien, you see. In fact, in order to save its own hide from the dragon, Bastien, um, dropped me. From several hundred feet in the air. I almost died, actually."
Madame Maxime swayed, her hand flying to her immense chest, her face draining of color. She looked ready to faint, her eyes wide with a mixture of grief and incredulity. "Mon Dieu! Eaten? My magnificent Bastien, devoured by a… a wild beast?!" She choked, utterly horrified.
Echo, seeing her distress, tried to offer reassurance, though his frantic hair, now a swirling mix of red and yellow, betrayed his own unease. "Well, Madame Maxime, it's… It's the circle of life. No one ever said it was fair." His voice was entirely unconvincing. "One moment you're flying high, the next you're… contributing to the ecosystem."
Before he could continue his awkward explanation, a thunderous thudding reverberated through the Great Hall, growing rapidly louder. The massive oak doors, which had closed after Skip's departure, suddenly burst open with a splintering crash. Bastien, the colossal Abraxan, its pearly-white coat singed and smoking in several places, its magnificent feathered wings ruffled and charred, galloped frantically into the hall. Its eyes were wide with terror, and it whinnied in pure, unadulterated panic, nearly trampling several terrified Beauxbatons students in its desperate dash for safety amidst the tables.
A new sound, even more terrifying, followed the Abraxan into the hall: a deafening, enraged roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of Hogwarts Castle.
Echo's jaw dropped. His red and yellow hair instantly shifted to a shocked, relieved blue. "Oh, look!" he exclaimed, a wide, almost manic grin spreading across his face. "Bastien's still alive! Miracles do happen!"
Several students, recovering from their initial shock, rushed to the entrance of the Great Hall or peered out the nearest windows. A collective gasp, quickly followed by terrified shouts, erupted. Outside, a truly colossal dragon, her scales gleaming in the afternoon sun, circled the castle. Her golden eyes blazed with fury, letting out ear-splitting roars as she desperately searched for her equine prey. Her fiery breath occasionally singed the ancient stone, sending plumes of smoke curling into the sky.
Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, and Karkaroff, along with several professors, immediately sprang into action. "Students, get back! Deeper into the hall! Away from the windows!" Dumbledore boomed, his wand already in his hand, preparing for battle. "Professor McGonagall, organize an evacuation to the dungeons!" No one, apart from Echo, knew this enraged beast was his dragon.
As the professors tried to usher the panicked students deeper into the castle's safety, Echo, his blue hair pulsing with a silent, focused green, closed his eyes. He linked with Wick, projecting his will with a force born of desperation. Go, Wick! Leave! Now! Before you destroy the entire castle!
He felt Wick's immense anger, a burning wave of frustration and possessiveness, but even through her fury, she recognized her father's command. With one last, earth-shattering roar of defiance, Wick reluctantly turned. Her massive form wheeled in the sky, and then, with a powerful beat of her wings, she soared away, disappearing rapidly into the distant clouds. The school was safe, and Madame Maxime's prized Abraxan, though singed, terrified, and likely traumatized, was also safe, but definitely not unharmed.
Dumbledore, after a moment of collecting himself, cleared his throat. "Well," he said, his voice echoing through the now quieter, but still very much traumatized, Great Hall, "that was… quite the eventful evening, wouldn't you agree?" He chuckled, a faint, almost nervous sound. "Hagrid, my dear fellow, would you be so kind as to tend to our guests' magnificent Abraxan? It appears to have had quite a fright."
Hagrid, who had been standing wide-eyed at the back, nodded vigorously. "Aye, Headmaster," he rumbled, his large frame moving surprisingly gently towards the trembling Bastien. "Poor beastie. Come on now, fella, Hagrid'll patch ye right up." He led the still-whinnying Abraxan from the hall, its singed wings drooping mournfully.
Madame Maxime, however, was far from pacified. Her imposing figure advanced towards Echo, her face a thundercloud of barely contained fury. "Mr. Echo," she began, her voice a low, dangerous growl that made several nearby students flinch. "You have made quite the mess this evening. I expect you to compensate Beauxbatons for my Bastien's injuries."
Echo, his initial relief at Bastien's survival quickly replaced by indignation, bristled. His blue hair flared with an angry red. "Compensate?!" he shot back, his voice rising, no longer bothering with deference. "Your horse kidnapped me! It grabbed me and carried me off, then, when a dragon attacked, it dropped me from several hundred feet in the air to save its own skin! I didn't have my wand to save myself! If it hadn't been for my house-elf, I would be a stain on the mountainside! Instead of doing... whatever was going to happen tomorrow, we would've been holding a funeral for whatever was left of me that could be scraped off the Scottish Highlands. If anything, I should be compensated!"
Madame Maxime's eyes, usually pools of dignified calm, now blazed with a fierce, almost primal fury. Her immense frame seemed to expand, and the air around her crackled with suppressed rage. "My Abraxans are not mere horses, Mr. Echo! They are noble, intelligent creatures, and Bastien is particularly sensitive! To suggest that he would 'kidnap' you and then 'drop' you from the sky is an outrageous fabrication! He was merely... expressing his unique affection!" She gestured wildly towards the singed and trembling Abraxan, who had now been led away by Hagrid, leaving behind a faint smell of burnt feathers.
Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the storm in her eyes began to recede. The furious flush on her cheeks slowly faded, and her shoulders, which had been drawn up in indignation, slumped slightly. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and the tension visibly drained from her. Her gaze softened, moving from the empty space where Bastien had been to Echo, who still stood, arms crossed, defiantly glaring back.
A long moment of silence passed. Then, Madame Maxime let out a weary sigh, her voice surprisingly subdued. "Perhaps… perhaps you are right, Mr. Echo," she finally conceded, the words seeming to pain her. "Bastien… he has always been known for his… peculiar nature. His fondness for shiny objects, for unusual textures… and for carrying off anything that catches his fancy. I should have had someone watching them more closely, especially with a new group of students arriving." She paused, her eyes meeting Echo's. "I apologize, Mr. Echo. My outburst was… undignified. The safety of any student should always come before my personal feelings for my creatures. I am truly sorry that you were put in such a perilous situation."
Echo blinked, genuinely surprised by her sudden change in demeanor. His red hair, which had been mirroring his indignation, softened to a calm, appreciative blue. "Apology accepted, Madame Maxime," he said, a small, genuine smile touching his lips. "And for the record, he did have surprisingly good taste in hair. It just got a little... singed."
Dumbledore, who had been observing the exchange with a thoughtful, almost knowing expression, stepped forward, his eyes twinkling. "Well said, both of you. I could not have phrased it better myself. It seems even in moments of peril and misunderstanding, we can find common ground and learn a valuable lesson." He spread his hands, his smile encompassing the entire, still-stunned Great Hall. "Let us all, therefore, take this… eventful experience to heart. Let us learn from our mistakes, forgive our momentary passions, and return to this magnificent feast as closer friends, united in our shared love of magic, even if it is sometimes a little… chaotic. Now, truly, let the feast continue!"
With Dumbledore's pronouncement, the spell of awkward silence was finally broken. Students, still a little wide-eyed, slowly returned to their conversations, though now with a fresh, somewhat bewildered topic of discussion. Beauxbatons students whispered amongst themselves, casting curious glances at Echo, while Durmstrang students seemed to eye him with a mixture of suspicion and grudging respect.
Echo, his blue hair settling into a contented hue, returned to his table, a satisfied grin on his face. He had faced down a raging dragon, been kidnapped by a giant winged horse, and had a surprisingly civil argument with a half-giantess headmistress, all before dinner was truly over. It had been, by all accounts, a rather excellent evening. He looked at Lily, who was still shaking her head with a mixture of exasperation and amusement, then at Severus, whose usual scowl had softened into a resigned, almost fond expression.
"See?" Echo said, grabbing another pork chop with renewed enthusiasm. "Nothing a good meal can't fix."
Lily just laughed, a soft, warm sound. "You're impossible, Echo," she murmured, but there was no real heat in her words. "Absolutely impossible." She glanced at Severus, then back at Echo, a thoughtful look on her face. "You know, for someone who claims they don't want to be in the Daily Prophet, you certainly do have a knack for making headlines."
Echo shrugged, his blue hair flickering with a mischievous green. "Hey, I just attract chaos, you know that," he said, taking a large bite of his pork chop. "It's not my fault if my special brand of chaos is particularly dramatic." He then caught the eye of the younger Veela from the Beauxbatons delegation, who was now seated at one of the Beauxbatons tables. She gave him another quick, playful wink. Echo waved back, then turned his attention back to his food, already planning his questions for the feast. After all, a pinkie promise was a pinkie promise.