The morning sun was pleasantly warm, a stark contrast to the icy depths of the Black Lake just a few days prior. Echo strolled along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, a large burlap sack slung over his shoulder. He was humming a tuneless, cheerful melody—"Hum, hum, hum"—utterly content with his current task. The bag was heavy, pungent, and undeniably fragrant, filled to the brim with fresh, steaming dragon dung he'd just harvested from Wick. To anyone else, it was repulsive. To Echo, it was high-grade fertilizer for his magical plants and a potential snack for some of his dung-eating beetles. He turned the corner near the greenhouses, his mind occupied with thoughts of soil pH levels and beetle nutrition, when a shout shattered his peace.
"YOU!"
Echo stopped, blinking. He turned slowly, the heavy sack shifting on his shoulder. Sprinting towards him across the grass, arms flailing like a windmill in a hurricane, was a sixth-year student Echo vaguely recognized as a Hufflepuff. The boy's face was red, his robes were disheveled, and his eyes held a terrifying, desperate, manic gleam. Before Echo could even calculate the threat level or reach for his wand, the student launched himself forward. He didn't attack. Instead, he threw himself at Echo's feet with the force of a collapsing building, sliding on his knees through the dirt.
"Please!" the boy wailed, grabbing the hem of Echo's robe with both hands. "I beg you! I'll do anything! Anything at all!"
Echo stumbled back, nearly dropping his sack of precious manure. He kicked his leg out, trying to dislodge the sobbing limpet attached to his clothes.
"Get off!" Echo shouted, dancing on one foot. "Get off me, you crazy bitch! What is wrong with you?"
The student didn't let go. He clung tighter, burying his face in the fabric of Echo's robe. "Master!" he sobbed, his voice muffled. "Master, please! You have to help me!"
Echo froze. His foot hovered in mid-air, ready for another kick. He looked down at the top of the boy's head, his expression shifting from annoyance to genuine confusion.
"Master?" Echo repeated. He leaned closer, squinting. "Pip? Is that you?"
The sobbing stopped abruptly. The student lifted his head, tears streaking his dusty face. He looked at Echo with utter bewilderment. "What's a Pip?"
Echo let out a long, weary sigh. He lowered his foot. "Right. So you're not my house-elf, turned human by some horrific magical accident. Good to know. That simplifies things significantly."
With a sudden, sharp movement, Echo jerked his leg back, finally breaking the student's grip. He followed it up with a firm shove of his boot against the boy's shoulder, sending him sprawling onto his back in the grass.
"Okay," Echo said, adjusting his robes and glaring down at the intruder. "Who are you? What do you want? And why are you assaulting me near the greenhouses?" He pointed a finger towards the castle. "Go away. I have literal shit to do."
But the student was persistent. He scrambled back onto his hands and knees, ignoring the dirt and the rejection. He reached out again, his fingers grasping for Echo's ankle.
"No, wait! Please! You don't understand!" he cried, his voice cracking. "I need your help! I need you to show me your ways!"
Echo groaned. He dropped the heavy sack of dragon dung with a dull thud. Before the student could grab him again, Echo stepped forward and planted his boot firmly on the boy's chest, pinning him to the ground.
"My ways?" Echo demanded, leaning over him. "What ways? My way of collecting dragon poo? My way of almost dying every three months? What the hell are you talking about?"
The boy wheezed slightly under the pressure of Echo's boot but didn't stop pleading. "Your secret!" he gasped. "I want to know your secret! Is it a spell? A potion? An ancient ritual? Whatever it is, I'll do it! I'll pay you! I'll do your homework! Just teach me!"
Echo stared at him. "I have literally no idea what you are babbling about." He stepped back, removing his foot. "Get up. You're embarrassing yourself."
The student scrambled to his feet, dusting himself off frantically. "I'm talking about it," he whispered conspiratorially, leaning in. "How you attract... everyone."
Echo raised an eyebrow. "Attract everyone? I think 'repel' is the word you're looking for. Most people run away from me screaming."
"No, no!" the boy insisted, waving his hands. "I mean... romantically. Or... whatever it is you do. Girls. Mermaids." He paused, glancing around. "Guys, even."
Echo blinked. "There are guys attracted to me?"
The student shrugged. "Apparently. The only one I know for sure is that sullen guy from Durmstrang who keeps staring at you like he wants to either duel you or kiss you. But mostly... the Veela." His eyes widened, filled with a mix of awe and envy. "Especially them. How do you do it? How do you woo them with such ease?"
Echo let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Woo them? I haven't 'wooed' anyone. I barely talk to them."
"Liar!" the student accused, pointing a shaking finger. "I've seen you! I've seen you just... approach them. You talk to them so casually, like they're normal people! You sit by them at the lake. You let them hand-feed you grapes or whatever exotic fruit they have! I saw one of them braiding your hair the other day! And another one was just... petting your face! You make daisy crowns with them!"
He took a deep, shuddering breath, his face crumpling with frustration. "And me? I go to them with flowers. Expensive flowers! I recite poetry I spent weeks writing! I declare my undying love! And what do I get? Nothing. Not even a blink. They look through me like I'm made of glass. But you... You walk up smelling like a swamp, carrying a bag of literal crap, and they coo over you like you're a lost puppy made of gold."
He grabbed Echo's shoulders, shaking him slightly. "So tell me! What is the secret? What dark god did you sacrifice to? What pheromone potion are you wearing? Tell me, or I swear to Merlin I will scream until my head explodes!"
Echo stared at the frantic student, his patience evaporating faster than water in a cauldron. The boy's face was contorted, mouth open for another scream, eyes bulging with desperation.
"Tell me!" the student shrieked. "What is the—"
With a swift, practiced flick of his wand, Echo pointed it directly at the boy's face.
"Zip!"
A silver zipper, gleaming in the sunlight, materialized across the student's open mouth. Echo reached out, grabbed the metal tab, and with a satisfying zzzzzip, pulled it shut. The scream was cut off instantly, replaced by muffled, panicked grunts.
Echo took a deep, stressed breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay. Listen closely because I am only going to say this once, and I have fertilizer that is getting cold." He looked directly into the boy's wide eyes. "There is no secret. No potion. No dark ritual involving goat sacrifices. I just... treat them like normal people. Like I would treat anyone else I meet."
The student stared at him, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. He gestured wildly at Echo, then at himself, then vaguely towards the castle, clearly trying to convey the sheer absurdity of that statement, given Echo's reputation.
Echo sighed. "Yeah, okay. Bad example, considering my track record with 'normal people' usually involves insults or hexes. But you just have to take my word for it. Treating someone like a human being instead of a goddess usually works better."
The student glared, reached up, grabbed the zipper tab, and yanked it open.
"That's bollocks!" he shouted, spit flying. "Total bollocks! If that's true, how do you not react? How do you just stand there? I can barely hold it together when I just smell their perfume nearby!"
Unbeknownst to both of them, a small group of Veela had been walking along the path behind the hedge, on their way to the lake. Hearing the shouting—and the specific mention of their kind—they had paused. Now, hidden by the thick greenery, three of them leaned in, eyes sparkling with amusement and curiosity, eager to hear the 'Dark Wizard's' answer.
Echo adjusted the strap of his bag, looking weary. "Look," he said, his voice flat. "I'm not immune. I'm not a stone. I see them. I see their beauty. I feel the charm just as much as you do." He gestured vaguely at his own chest. "Believe me, internally? Part of me wants to act like a Tex Avery cartoon. You know, eyes bulging out of the skull on stalks, heart pounding out of the ribcage like a jackhammer, tongue unrolling onto the floor like a red carpet. The whole wolf-whistle routine."
The student blinked, struggling to reconcile this image with the stoic, scary boy before him.
"But," Echo continued, his voice firming, "I force myself not to. It's called self-control. It's a novel concept, I know, apparently completely foreign to the male and female population of this school. I see them, I appreciate that they are stunning, and then I remind myself they are people with brains and feelings, not just pretty pictures to drool over." He shrugged. "I show them the basic decency they deserve. And if they decide they want to coo over me or braid my hair or whatever, then that's their choice. Who am I to stop them? But I don't demand it, and I certainly don't grovel for it."
Behind the hedge, the Veela exchanged surprised glances. The amusement in their eyes softened into something warmer, something approving. One of them, a tall girl with hair like spun silver, smiled gently.
"He is... uniquely grounded," she murmured, her blue eyes soft. "It is rare to find a wizard who sees the soul before the skin."
"I think I am actually falling for him," another Veela whispered, clutching her hands to her chest, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. "Did you hear him? 'Basic decency.' He defends our humanity when others only see a prize."
A third Veela, a striking brunette with eyes like polished amber, turned to the figure standing silently at the back of their group. "I admit, I had my doubts before," she said quietly to Empusa, who was watching Echo through the leaves with a proprietary, burning intensity. "But now... I finally understand why you took such a shine to him. He is not like the others."
Empusa's lips quirked into a small, satisfied smirk. "No," she agreed, her voice a purr of dark vindication. "He certainly isn't."
Back on the path, unaware of his expanding fan club, Echo was still dealing with the Hufflepuff. The boy wiped his nose on his sleeve, looking up at Echo with renewed, albeit confused, hope.
"Okay," the student said, his voice trembling slightly. "I think I get it. Treat them like people. Don't drool. But... what should I actually do? How do I start?"
Echo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose again. "First of all, stop being so pushy. Do not chase them, do not corner them, and definitely do not throw yourself at their feet screaming. They get pressured constantly. It's exhausting."
He gestured to the surrounding gardens. "Gifts are nice, sure, but don't make it a grand production. You don't need expensive bouquets or handwritten sonnets. Keep it small. Simple. A small bag of chocolates. A single flower you found that looked nice. A cool rock."
The student blinked. "A... cool rock?"
"Yes, a cool rock," Echo said defensively. "Who doesn't like a cool rock? The point is the gesture, not the value. Then, just talk to them. About class, about the weather, about the giant squid—it doesn't matter. Just talk to them like you would talk to a friend. And for the love of Merlin, control your reactions. If they smile at you, don't faint. If they touch your arm, don't propose marriage."
The student nodded frantically, absorbing the information like a sponge. "Okay. Small gifts. Cool rocks. Normal conversation. Self-control." A wide, eager grin spread across his face. "And if I do all that... then they'll go out with me?"
Echo laughed, a sharp, barking sound. "No."
The student's grin vanished instantly. "What?"
"Absolutely not," Echo said, shaking his head. "Look, do the math. Most of the Veela in the delegation aren't students. They're older. Some of them are at least twenty, maybe older. I don't know what the consent laws are in France, but we are currently standing on British soil, which means we are under British laws." He gestured between himself and the student. "And you and I? We are minors. Jailbait. Illegal."
He held up two fingers. "Second, the only one who is actually in our age bracket is Empusa. And let me tell you, her eyes are... firmly elsewhere. Trust me on that."
The student slumped, his shoulders dropping as the reality of the situation crushed his romantic fantasies. He looked down at his dirty robes, utterly defeated.
"So..." he whimpered, his voice small. "It's hopeless? I stand no chance?"
Echo softened slightly. He reached out, patting the boy awkwardly on the shoulder.
"It's not hopeless," Echo corrected gently. "You may not be able to date them—legally speaking, and for your own safety—but that doesn't mean you can't interact with them. You can still make friends. You can forge a bond based on mutual respect and shared interests rather than just infatuation."
He picked up his sack of dragon dung, hoisting it back onto his shoulder. "And at the end of the day," Echo added, offering the boy a rare, genuine smile, "aren't lovers just the best kind of friends anyway? Start there. See what happens."
The student stared at Echo, his mouth slightly open, processing the unexpected wisdom. Slowly, a new kind of determination replaced the manic desperation in his eyes. He nodded, once, firmly.
"Friends," he repeated, testing the word. "Start as friends."
"Exactly," Echo said, turning to leave. "Now, if you'll excuse me, these beetles aren't going to feed themselves."
As Echo walked away, whistling his tuneless tune, the Hufflepuff watched him go, a newfound respect on his face. Behind the hedge, the group of Veela watched him too, their expressions soft and thoughtful. And Empusa, still hidden in the shadows, watched him with a smile that was equal parts adoration and possessive hunger, her hand drifting to her pocket where the empty potion vial still rested.
"Oh yes, Echo," she whispered to the retreating figure. "Lovers are indeed the best kind of friends. And we are going to be such good friends."