The festive spirit of Christmas descended upon Hogwarts with a dazzling, almost overwhelming force. Garlands of holly and mistletoe were strung across the Great Hall, enchanting snow fell gently from the enchanted ceiling, and towering Christmas trees, bedecked with shimmering baubles and twinkling lights, stood in every corner. The air was thick with the scent of pine, gingerbread, and magic. Students bustled through the corridors, their faces flushed with excitement, clutching packages wrapped in festive paper. Carols, sung with varying degrees of enthusiasm and tunefulness, echoed from unexpected alcoves. Echo, however, navigated this whirlwind of holiday cheer with a blank, utterly bewildered expression. His black hair, a confused grey, mirrored the utter void of comprehension in his mind. He watched, fascinated and utterly lost, as students exchanged gifts, laughed at cracker jokes, and discussed plans for the upcoming holiday break. Shimmer, usually a curious presence, now seemed equally overwhelmed, a faint silver ripple of confusion on his shoulder. In contrast, Sniffles was overwhelmed with the sight of so many shiny things to steal.
He was standing by a particularly large, brightly decorated tree in the Great Hall, watching a group of Hufflepuffs try to levitate a singing fairy to its highest branch. Lily approached him, her green eyes sparkling with genuine joy.
"Echo! There you are!" she exclaimed, her voice bright. "Aren't you excited? Christmas is almost here!"
Echo turned to her, his grey hair flickering with genuine puzzlement. "Excited?" he repeated, the word sounding foreign on his tongue. "For… what, exactly? What is all this, Lily? Why are there so many trees indoors? And why are people giving each other… wrapped boxes?"
Lily stared at him for a long moment, her bright smile slowly fading, replaced by an expression of dawning realization and a hint of gentle sadness. "Oh, Echo," she whispered, her gaze softening. "You really… You don't know, do you?"
Echo shook his head, his grey hair unwavering. "Know what?"
"Christmas," Lily began, her voice soft, as if unwrapping a precious secret. "It's a celebration, Echo. A time for family and friends, for kindness and goodwill. And… It's when Father Christmas visits." Her eyes twinkled playfully. "He's a magical person, with a long white beard and a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer, and he travels all over the world, bringing presents to all the good children on Christmas Eve."
Echo's hollow eyes widened, his black hair slowly, almost imperceptibly, shifting to a curious, innocent blue. "Presents?" he murmured, a faint, almost childlike wonder entering his voice. "For… good children? He just… gives them things?"
Just then, Severus Snape, who had been lurking nearby, ostensibly engrossed in a particularly dense Potions textbook but clearly eavesdropping, let out a disdainful snort. He looked up, his black eyes narrowed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Perhaps we should also explain the nuances of 'Father Christmas' to him, Lily. Such as the fact that the 'presents' are generally supplied by parental figures, or that the concept is largely a charming, if ultimately baseless, tradition."
Lily, with a playful glare, quickly swatted Severus on the arm. "Severus! Don't you dare! You'll ruin it!" she admonished, her voice a low, warning hiss, though her eyes held a hint of amusement. "Not a word, you greasy git!"
Severus merely rolled his eyes, but a faint, almost imperceptible smirk remained.
Echo, however, had heard Severus's words. His newly bright blue hair, which had been pulsing with uncharacteristic excitement, slowly, then rapidly, began to taper out. The vibrant blue faded, replaced by a dull, dejected grey, then a mournful black. His shoulders slumped, and the faint, nascent wonder in his eyes was extinguished, replaced by a familiar hollowness.
Lily, seeing the sudden, dramatic shift, immediately turned back to him, her playful expression dissolving into concern. "Echo? What's wrong? What happened? Are your emotions… are they draining again?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.
Echo slowly shook his head, his black hair settling into a heavy, resigned state. "No, Lily," he mumbled, his voice devoid of its earlier spark. "It's not that." He looked down at his hands, his gaze distant. "It's just… Father Christmas. And the presents. For the good children." He let out a soft, self-deprecating chuckle, a hollow, humorless sound. "There's no way. No way I'm getting anything."
He looked up at Lily, a profound, weary sadness in his eyes. "I haven't been good this year, Lily. Not at all. I've broken rules, caused chaos, nearly killed Severus with a textbook, unleashed Doxies in the Great Hall, and I've got a Dark Beast living inside me that feeds on my inner void and my emotions." He sighed, a heavy, defeated sound. "So, no presents for me. I'll just… I'll just go wallow in butterbeer instead. Or," he added, a flicker of dark humor in his hollow gaze, "maybe I'll take the mermaid potion and cry at the bottom of the Black Lake. Perhaps both."
Lily stood there, a profound discomfort radiating from her, her green eyes wide with concern as she watched Echo's retreating form. Severus, too, looked unusually unsettled, his usual sneer replaced by a thoughtful frown. Before either of them could speak, Frank Longbottom and Amos Diggory arrived, their expressions mirroring Lily's distress.
"You… you guys saw that too, right?" Lily asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Frank nodded grimly. Amos shuddered. "Saw and heard. I almost thought a Dementor had wandered into the Great Hall; it got so cold when he said that."
Lily took a deep breath, her gaze sweeping over her friends. "Then we all know what we have to do, right?"
All three men nodded. Severus, ever the pragmatist, raised an eyebrow at Frank. "Do you really know, Longbottom?"
Frank nodded again, then, with a sheepish grin, shook his head.
Lily sighed, a small smile touching her lips despite the seriousness of the situation. "We need to get Echo a Christmas gift. A proper one. We can't let Christmas become a damper for him every year because he thinks he's 'not good enough' for presents." Her voice became firm. "And we have to make absolutely sure he doesn't find out we're behind it."
Amos scoffed, though there was a hint of warmth in his tone. "Oh, we're probably fine. He'll most likely go and cry into his girlfriend's tail. Mermaids are good listeners, I hear."
Frank chuckled. "I'll bet you ten Galleons he goes to Hogsmeade, wallowing in self-pity and butterbeer."
"You're on!" Amos immediately shot back.
"Stop it, both of you!" Lily admonished, a faint blush rising to her cheeks.
Severus, a rare, almost mischievous glint in his dark eyes, interjected. "You're both wrong, of course. He'll likely go into the Forbidden Forest to brood and cry, perhaps even seek out the Centaurs. They seem to have taken a strange liking to him. And from what I've heard, Centaurs brew a rather strong liquor."
Lily threw her hands up in exasperation. "Just stop! All of you! No more bets, no more predictions about where he's going to wallow. Just go. Pick something out for him. Something nice. And we'll sneak it into his bed tomorrow, on Christmas morning."
With a final, collective nod, the four friends dispersed, each heading off with a newfound determination to secure a suitable gift. Unbeknownst to them, a small House-Elf, having overheard their entire conversation while clearing plates from the Gryffindor table, paused, its large ears twitching. A mischievous, almost conspiratorial glint appeared in its wide eyes. With a soft pop, it vanished, eager to share this most important news with the other House-Elves.
Later that evening, long after the last carol had faded and the Great Hall had emptied, a small, disheveled figure trudged back into the warmth of Hogwarts. Echo's usually vibrant hair was a dull, resigned black, and his eyes, red and puffy, betrayed the emotional turmoil of his day. He sniffled miserably, rubbing a sleeve across his swollen nose, a visible testament to the gallons of butterbeer and tears he had consumed in Hogsmeade.
As he rounded a corner, he nearly collided with a towering figure. "Ho there, Echo! Merry Christmas, me boy!" Hagrid boomed, his face wreathed in a cheerful, if slightly dishevelled, smile. He held a small, beautifully decorated Christmas tree, clearly destined for his hut, under one arm.
Echo's head snapped up, and his already fragile composure shattered. The words "Merry Christmas," spoken with such genuine warmth and innocent cheer, hit him like a bludger. His lower lip began to tremble uncontrollably, and with a choked sob, he burst into fresh, unrestrained tears. He didn't even try to explain or apologize for nearly knocking Hagrid over. With a wail that would have shamed a Banshee, he spun on his heel and fled, his pathetic sobs echoing down the stone corridor.
Hagrid stared after him, utterly bewildered. "Did… did I say somethin' wrong?" he mumbled to himself, scratching his bearded chin, the cheerful smile slowly fading from his face. "Merry Christmas is a good thing, ain't it?"
Echo, meanwhile, continued his tear-streaked flight, not stopping until he reached the relative sanctuary of his four-poster bed in the Slytherin dormitory. With a dramatic, almost theatrical flourish, he flopped onto it, face down, limbs splayed out like a distressed Disney princess. Sniffles, who had been patiently waiting, immediately scurried out of his pocket and began patting his head with tiny, concerned paws. At the same time, Shimmer, now a faint silver ripple of worry, nuzzled against his ear.
"Sniffles, Shimmer," Echo wailed, his voice muffled by the pillow. "This… this has been one of the worst days of my life. The absolute worst!" He let out a fresh, shuddering sob. "I… I was happier not knowing, you know? Happier thinking Christmas was just… a made-up story, like the tooth fairy. Happier not knowing I was too bad for presents. Too much of a… a monster!" He sniffled again, a hollow, dry sound. "And now… now I can't even cry myself to sleep. I've got no tears left to cry."
Just then, a chorus of tiny, high-pitched squeaks and giggles erupted from beneath his bed. Echo lifted his head, his tear-streaked face a mask of utter confusion. From under the bed, a procession of House-Elves emerged, each one carrying a small, beautifully wrapped package. They formed a neat line, their large ears twitching with excitement, their eyes sparkling with mischief and warmth.
The first House-Elf, a particularly ancient and wrinkled one with a magnificent tea cozy for a hat, stepped forward, offering its package to Echo with a deep bow. "A gift for Master Echo," it squeaked, its voice filled with reverence. "From the House-Elves of Hogwarts. For being kind to all house-elves. And for the many crumbs you leave for us, even when you do not know you do so."
Echo stared, his black hair slowly, imperceptibly, shifting to a stunned grey. Another House-Elf pushed forward, this one a young, energetic female with a mismatched sock on each foot. "And a gift from the Kitchens, Master Echo," she chirped, offering a package that smelled faintly of warm treacle tart. "For appreciating our food, and for always being polite, even when you sneak in."
One by one, the House-Elves presented their gifts, each with a heartfelt, if slightly baffling, reason: a gift for his "kindness to creatures," a gift for his "unusual methods," and a gift for "making the school a more exciting place." They piled the packages onto his bed, a colorful, glittering mountain of unexpected cheer.
Echo sat up, completely overwhelmed. His grey hair began to pulse with a hesitant, almost fragile blue. "But… but I haven't done anything," he whispered, his voice still hoarse from crying. "I… I'm not good. I'm a monster."
The House-Elves, however, merely shook their heads, their large eyes filled with an unwavering affection. "Master Echo is kind," the ancient House-Elf insisted. "Master Echo is brave. Master Echo is… different. And different is good."
Then, with a final chorus of cheerful squeaks, they vanished as quickly as they had appeared, leaving Echo surrounded by his unexpected treasures. He picked up one of the packages, his hands trembling slightly. It was small, wrapped in shimmering silver paper, and tied with a bright blue ribbon. He carefully tore it open. Inside, nestled on a bed of soft velvet, was a small, intricately carved wooden bird, its wings outstretched as if in flight. It was a Diricawl, perfectly rendered. A faint, almost imperceptible warmth emanated from it.
Echo traced the delicate feathers with his finger. His blue hair brightened, and a genuine, unburdened smile slowly spread across his face, replacing the tears and the hollowness.
Just then, a rustling came from the window. Echo looked up to see a large, majestic owl perched on the sill, holding a large, rather awkwardly wrapped package in its beak. It hooted softly, then dropped the package onto his bed before flying off into the night. Echo, now completely bewildered, opened this new package. Inside, he found a brand new, highly advanced Advanced Potion-Making textbook, its cover gleaming. Tucked inside was a note, scrawled in a familiar, elegant hand: Merry Christmas, you dunderhead. Don't break this one. - S.S.
Echo laughed, a genuine, joyful sound that echoed strangely in the quiet dormitory. His blue hair pulsed with a vibrant, energetic yellow. Severus. Of course.
He looked around at the pile of gifts, then at Sniffles, who was now happily tearing into a small, shiny package, and Shimmer, who had materialized fully, a shimmering silver blur of happy chittering.
Echo reached out and picked up another package. This one, wrapped in simple brown paper, felt surprisingly heavy. He opened it to find a meticulously hand-knitted scarf in the vibrant red and gold colors of Gryffindor. It was incredibly soft, and a faint, sweet scent of Lily's perfume still clung to the wool. Another note, in Lily's neat handwriting, was tucked inside: For keeping warm, and for always being you. We care, Echo. More than you know. - L.
His yellow hair softened to a warm, contented orange. He held the scarf, a profound sense of warmth spreading through him. He was not alone. He was not a monster. He was… cared for.
He opened more gifts. A set of enchanted quills that wrote perfectly on their own, from the Ravenclaws. A magically self-refilling inkwell, from the Hufflepuffs. A small, intricately detailed map of the Forbidden Forest, with markings for all the best places to observe creatures, from Remus. A box of enchanted, exploding sweets, from someone called Weasley, with a warning to "only consume in moderation, or risk exploding yourself."
By the time he finished, his bed was surrounded by wrapping paper, and his heart was full. His orange hair glowed with a soft, radiant golden hue. He lay back against his pillows, Sniffles curled on his chest, Shimmer a comforting presence on his shoulder, and a faint, peaceful smile on his lips.
Christmas. He finally understood. It wasn't about being "good" or "bad." It was about connection, kindness, and receiving, even when you thought you deserved nothing. He closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep, the golden glow of his hair filling the dormitory with a soft, warm light. Perhaps, he thought, as he drifted off, this wasn't so bad after all.
The next morning, Christmas Day, Echo awoke to a soft knock on his dormitory door. He opened his eyes, his golden hair still radiating a faint, happy glow. Sniffles was still asleep on his chest, and Shimmer was a soft, silver ripple. He got out of bed, feeling lighter than he had in years, and opened the door.
Standing there were Lily, Severus, Remus, Amos, and Frank, all looking sheepish and expectant. Lily held a plate piled high with treacle tart and pumpkin juice.
"Merry Christmas, Echo," Lily said softly, her green eyes sparkling. "We thought you might be hungry. And we… we just wanted to see if you were alright."
Echo looked at them, his golden hair pulsing with genuine warmth. He didn't need to say anything. The profound gratitude in his eyes and the soft, genuine smile on his face said it all. He just nodded, accepting the plate.
"Merry Christmas, everyone," he said, his voice quiet but firm, a newfound peace in his tone. "Truly. Merry Christmas."
Echo spent the rest of Christmas Day in a state of quiet, unadulterated bliss. He ate the treacle tart, savouring every sweet bite, then joined his friends for a leisurely breakfast in the Great Hall, which, despite the earlier chaos, was now a picture of festive cheer. He laughed, listened intently to explanations of ancient Christmas traditions, and even shared a genuinely pleasant conversation with Professor McGonagall about the finer points of Diricawl behavior. His golden hair remained a steady, comforting glow throughout the day, a visible manifestation of his newfound happiness.
As evening approached, and the last of the Christmas dinner lingered in his stomach, Echo found himself back in the quiet sanctuary of his dormitory. Shimmer, a contented silver ripple, dozed on his pillow, while Sniffles, his pouch now bulging with assorted small, shiny trinkets from the day's festivities, snored softly on his chest. Echo gazed at the pile of gifts, his heart still warm with gratitude. He picked up Lily's scarf, feeling the soft wool against his cheek, then Severus's textbook, its pages smelling faintly of parchment and old magic. His golden hair, which had been so vibrantly happy, began to flicker, a thoughtful, almost solemn blue seeping into its golden hues. A frown creased his brow. He looked at Shimmer, then at Sniffles.
"You know," he murmured, his voice soft, "I was so caught up in… in not knowing what Christmas was, and then being sad that I thought I wouldn't get anything. I was so full of self-pity, wasn't I?"
Shimmer chittered sleepily, nuzzling into his pillow. Sniffles merely snorted in his sleep.
Echo sighed, his blue hair darkening to a reflective indigo. "It's supposed to be about giving, isn't it? About kindness and showing people you care. Not just about getting presents." He looked at the pile of gifts again, a profound sense of regret washing over him. "And I… I didn't give anyone anything. Not a single thing. I just… took. And I was so selfish, feeling sorry for myself."
His indigo hair pulsed with a sudden, fierce determination. He couldn't let the day end like this. Not after all the unexpected warmth and generosity he had received.
"Alright, you two," Echo whispered, gently nudging Sniffles. "Wake up. We have work to do. Before the day is out, everyone who has shown me kindness, everyone who matters, is getting a gift from me. And a small apology for being so selfish."
Sniffles blinked, then let out an indignant squeak, clearly annoyed at being roused from his post-feast nap. Shimmer, however, seemed to sense the shift in Echo's mood, and its silver ripple brightened, a subtle tremor of excitement running through it.
Echo jumped out of bed, his indigo hair blazing with purpose. He began to pace, his mind racing. What could he give? He didn't have much, certainly not in the traditional sense. But he had his magic. And his unique talents.
"The House-Elves first," he decided, his voice firm. "They gave me so much and asked for nothing in return. They appreciate crumbs, so… something for them to truly appreciate."
He rummaged through his trunk, pulling out a small, intricately carved wooden box. It was a relic he had found in a dusty corner of a forgotten classroom, imbued with a faint, comforting magic. With a flick of his wand, he whispered an ancient charm, imbuing the box with the scent of freshly baked cookies and warm, clean linen – a House-Elf's ultimate luxury. He added a small, hand-drawn card, depicting a smiling House-Elf, and a note that read: For your selfless work and endless kindness. Please forgive my earlier self-pity. - Echo. He left it just outside the kitchen doors, knowing they would find it.
Next, his friends. Lily, Severus, Remus, Amos, Frank. Each deserved something special, something that spoke to their unique bond, and an apology for his earlier wallowing.
For Lily, he sought out a rare, shimmering petal from a moonpetal plant he had been cultivating in secret – a flower known for its ability to amplify positive emotions and ward off negativity subtly. He carefully enchanted it, shaping it into a delicate, ever-blooming hair clip, leaving it on her bedside table in the Gryffindor common room. A small note read: For your unwavering light, and for forgiving my blindness. I'm sorry for being so wrapped up in myself. - Echo.
For Severus, he created a potion – not one to cure, but one to enhance. A potent, deeply aromatic blend that would, for a short time, make all his ingredients sing, their properties clearer, their reactions more predictable. It was a potion that made brewing a joy, even for the most jaded Potions Master. He slipped a small vial into Severus's private stores, along with a note: For those rare moments of peace, and a sincere apology for my self-pitying display. Don't tell Dumbledore. - E.
Remus received a small, beautifully bound journal, its pages enchanted always to provide fresh, clean parchment no matter how much he wrote. Echo knew Remus found solace in chronicling his thoughts, and this would ensure he never ran out of space. He left it discreetly, using Sniffles, on Remus's desk in the Gyrffindor quarters, with a note: For your stories, and for your patience with my complicated emotions. Forgive my earlier selfishness. - Echo.
Amos and Frank, for their unwavering loyalty and, occasionally, their comedic relief, each received a magically enhanced quaffle, charmed to be perfectly weighted and respond to their touch with unparalleled precision. They would be the envy of every Quidditch player. Echo managed to sneak them into their respective trunks with surprising ease, each accompanied by a note: For your friendship, and for always having my back. Sorry for being such a mope earlier. - Echo.
The professors, too, deserved recognition. Professor McGonagall received a self-correcting quill that would subtly fix any grammatical errors in student essays, saving her countless hours of exasperation. Professor Cleen found a small, exquisitely crafted model of a Boggart that, when poked, would transform into a perpetually confused, roller-skating chicken, a silent nod to their shared, bizarre experience. Each gift came with a small apology for his earlier display of self-pity.
Finally, there was Skate. Echo paused, his indigo hair softening to a deep, thoughtful blue. What could he give the girl who lived under the lake, the one who held a unique place in his heart? He couldn't give her a material object, not really. How could he convey his feelings, his gratitude, his newfound understanding of connection, to a mermaid? Then it hit him. The angel on top of the Great Hall Christmas tree. It had been so beautiful, so ethereal, a beacon of light amidst the twinkling branches. Even if he couldn't give Skate a tree, he could at least give her the ornament. A symbol of light and hope, made just for her.
With renewed purpose, Echo pulled out a piece of driftwood he had collected from the Black Lake months ago, its surface smooth and worn by the currents. His blue hair pulsed with a focused, artistic intensity. He found some iridescent shells, bits of polished sea glass, and even a few strands of shimmering seaweed. He began to work, his nimble fingers shaping, carving, and enchanting. He envisioned an angel, not a traditional, winged figure, but something that reflected Skate's own unique beauty and the magic of their shared world beneath the waves.
He worked through the night, his concentration unwavering. He etched intricate patterns onto the driftwood, giving it the appearance of flowing robes. He carefully affixed the iridescent shells to form delicate, shimmering wings that would catch the light. The sea glass became a halo, glowing with a soft, internal luminescence. He imbued it with a silencing charm so that it wouldn't disrupt the tranquility of her underwater world, and a subtle warmth, a constant, comforting presence. He made it heavy, too, so it wouldn't float away. As the first rays of dawn touched the horizon, illuminating his dormitory, Echo finally held up his creation. It was undeniably charming, but in a way that was uniquely his. The wings were crooked, the halo slightly off-center, and one of the shell's eyes was a tad larger than the other. It was, in short, an absolute disaster from an aesthetic perspective. But it was his disaster, imbued with genuine effort and heartfelt intention. His blue hair settled into a tired but satisfied black. He yawned, stretching his aching back.
The next morning, the day after Christmas, the great hall was bustling once more during breakfast. Lily, Severus, Remus, Amos, and Frank stood there, their faces a mixture of surprise and concern.
"Echo?" Lily asked, her green eyes wide as she took in his dishevelled appearance and the strange, lopsided angel in his hand. "Did you… Did you sleep at all?"
Echo shook his head, a faint, weary smile touching his lips. "No. But it was worth it. Look." He held out the angel tree topper. "I made this for Skate. The one in the Great Hall was so pretty, and even if she doesn't have a tree, I figured she could have the ornament. Do you think… do you think it's good?"
Amos and Frank stared at the crooked, shell-encrusted angel, their eyes widening, a tremor of suppressed laughter running through them. Frank's lips twitched, and Amos looked like he was about to burst.
Before either of them could speak, Lily, with a lightning-fast movement, clamped a hand over Amos's mouth and simultaneously pushed Frank's head down, glaring at them both. "It's perfect, Echo!" she exclaimed, her voice bright and a little strained. "Absolutely perfect! Skate will love it, I promise!"
Severus, for his part, merely raised an eyebrow, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. Remus offered a gentle, understanding smile.
"I made it heavy, too," Echo continued, completely oblivious to the near-explosion of laughter from his friends. "So it won't float away. I'm going to take it to her now." With a nod, he turned and headed out of the dormitory, cradling his unique, imperfect, and utterly heartfelt gift.
The moment Echo's footsteps faded down the corridor, Amos and Frank erupted. They clutched their stomachs, bent over double, tears streaming down their faces, and howled with uncontrollable laughter.
"Oh, Merlin!" Amos gasped, wiping a tear from his eye. "That was… that was the ugliest thing I have ever seen in my life! I swear, I almost swallowed my tongue trying not to laugh!"
Frank, still red-faced and gasping for air, managed to add, "I don't think Echo actually knows what an angel is supposed to look like! I mean, those wings! And the eye!" He dissolved into another fit of giggles.
Even Severus, despite himself, let out a low chuckle, a rare sound of genuine amusement. "It was… a bit much, I'll admit," he conceded, a faint smirk returning to his lips.
Remus, though still smiling gently, couldn't help but crack. "I… I have to agree, it had a certain… charm, but it was certainly unique." A small laugh escaped him.
Lily, though she too was struggling to suppress a smile, glared at them, feigning indignation. "Stop it, all of you! That was clearly a labor of love! He clearly put his heart and soul into that!" Her voice wavered, a hint of her own amusement breaking through. "You're all terrible! You don't deserve the gifts he got you! Next year, I'm getting you all coal!"
This only sent the others into fresh peals of laughter, filling the hall with a joyous, if slightly mean-spirited, sound.