Echo's eyes were the cold, perfect black of pure resolve. He didn't raise his voice; he didn't need to. The air itself seemed to carry the weight of his final decision.
"Get out of the way, Albus," Echo commanded, his voice devoid of all respect, all former admiration. "So many lives have already been taken tonight. Don't be stupid, and don't make yours another addition. This is your last chance."
Dumbledore, astride the Thestral, merely lowered his head, his silver robes shimmering faintly in the void of the upper atmosphere. "Echo, my boy, please stand down. It's not too late. We can help you, truly. We can—"
"Lies!" Echo roared, cutting him off, the word a raw, tearing sound. The dark, desolate black in his hair flared with an angry, volatile maroon. "You always lie! Lie about everything, and I won't believe you for a moment longer!" Echo slammed his hand down on Wick's scaly neck, his voice cracking with a terrifying mix of fury and anguish. "I won't tell you again, old man. Move out of the way, or be subtracted from the census!"
Dumbledore tightened his grip on his wand. "I cannot do that, Echo."
"Then you made your choice."
Echo didn't hesitate. He thrust his hand forward in a violent gesture, screaming the Dragon Spell Command: "PROPELLO!"
Wick roared, an earth-shattering sound that was lost to the high altitude. The massive dragon shot forward like a living, obsidian torpedo, flying straight at the Headmaster. Dumbledore, with a swift flick of his own wand, urged the Thestral to fly directly toward the charging dragon.
"Mister Echo, what are you doing?" Pip cried from the dragon's back, clutching Ragnarok's suit.
"I'm going to call his bluff," Echo muttered through gritted teeth, his eyes fixed on the rapidly approaching figure.
The gap closed with terrifying speed. Ragnok, his face pale and his own wand vibrating in his hand, shook his head violently. "He's not taking your bluff, kid!"
"Then he has a death wish," Echo spat, holding tight to Wick's neck, bracing for impact.
Finally, the two flying creatures got so close that a collision seemed inevitable—a massive, reptilian body slamming into a skeletal, horse-like form. But at the last, impossible microsecond, Echo tightened his mental command. Wick didn't collide. Her massive jaws opened wide, a cavern of serrated, fire-scorched teeth. Dumbledore, with a final, desperate burst of agility, jumped off the back of the Thestral. Wick snapped her jaws shut, swallowing the dying creature whole without even breaking her stride. Dumbledore landed lightly on the thick, ridged scales of Wick's back, his silver robes billowing around him.
"He's a fucking Looney!" Ragnok bellowed in utter disbelief, his eyes wide as he watched the old man land on the dragon's back.
Echo scrambled to his feet on Wick's neck, balancing precariously on the rough scales. He walked back along the spine to the area between her neck and her body, his eyes blazing with fury. Dumbledore stood in the center of the dragon's back, immaculate and serene, a strange, terrible grin beneath his half-moon spectacles. Ragnok and Pip stood huddled near the base of Wick's tail, looking absolutely stunned. The cold, unforgiving duel began.
Echo's hair whipped in the freezing gale, a volatile, high-voltage maroon. He didn't wait for a formal opening. "DIFFINDO!" he roared, the black jet of light aimed at Dumbledore's feet to compromise his balance on the shifting scales. Simultaneously, Ragnarok unleashed a barrage of sharp, staccato Goblin-magic from Sirius's wand, the spells appearing as jagged bolts of violet electricity that sizzled through the thin air.
Dumbledore moved with a fluidity that mocked his age. The Elder Wand didn't just cast spells; it seemed to command the very atmosphere. With a casual, almost lazy flick, he conjured a shimmering, translucent dome that didn't just block the attacks but absorbed them, the violet and black magic swirling harmlessly into the wood of the legendary wand. "You must understand the futility of this, Echo," Dumbledore's voice resonated, amplified by the wand to reach them over the roar of the wind.
"NOT TODAY!" Echo screamed. He closed his eyes for a microsecond, fully syncing with Shimmer. Through the Demiguise's future-sight, he saw the next three seconds: Dumbledore was about to cast a multi-target Stupefy. "DIVIDE!" Echo shouted. Shimmer, invisible and intangible, vaulted over Dumbledore's head, pulling at the air to create a localized vacuum. Pip, his large eyes glowing with a terrifying green intensity, pressed his small hands against Ragnok's lower back. A visible pulse of psychic energy surged through the goblin, his veins glowing gold beneath his skin.
Ragnok, supercharged by Pip, fired a concussive blast that hit like a physical hammer. Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly as his shield buckled. The Elder Wand snapped upward, carving a line of white fire through the sky to intercept the blast. While the Headmaster was occupied with the goblin's raw power, Echo used the opening. He channeled his dark affinity, his hair turning a sickly, malevolent green. "OSSIO-DISPERSIMUS!" A jagged, bone-breaking curse streaked forward.
Dumbledore didn't just block; he counter-attacked in the same motion. He spun his wand in a complex, circular pattern, catching Echo's dark curse and mirroring it back with double the velocity. Shimmer screeched a warning into Echo's mind—Left! Drop! —and Echo flattened himself against Wick's neck just as his own spell whistled inches above his head, turning a cloud bank behind them into a fine, frozen mist. The sheer speed of the Elder Wand was blinding. Dumbledore began a rhythmic, weaving motion, sending out pulses of golden light that forced the dragon to tilt and dive, trying to throw the attackers from her back.
Ragnok, fueled by Pip's endless psychic reservoir, was a whirlwind of offensive magic. He was firing spells faster than a human wizard could think, a continuous stream of violet light that forced Dumbledore into a defensive crouch. "I'VE GOT HIM!" the goblin yelled. "ECHO, NOW!"
As Dumbledore brought his wand back to cast, Ragnok finally got a clear look at the dark, bumpy wood.
"The Elder Wand," Ragnok whispered in a shudder of surprise, his voice laced with shock. "So, it's true, you did take possession of it."
In that moment of distraction, Dumbledore hit the goblin with a powerful, silent Blasting Curse. Ragnok was flung off the dragon's back, a black and silver blur plummeting into the terrifying blackness below.
"Pip!" Echo screamed, his eyes wide with horror, the volatile maroon in his hair turning a frantic, sickly yellow. "Go get Ragnok! Now!"
Pip vanished with a soft crack of Elf-Apparition, leaving Echo and Shimmer to face the Headmaster alone.
Dumbledore didn't wait. The Elder Wand slashed through the air, conjuring a whip of white-hot celestial fire that hissed as it lashed across the dragon's scales. Echo scrambled back, his injured leg buckling, and barely managed to throw up a jagged, black-tinted shield. The impact sent a bone-jarring vibration through his teeth.
"Is this your 'help', Albus?" Echo spat, his hair flaring a violent, electric yellow.
He lashed out with a twin-stream of dark-affinity curses—one a physical concussive blast, the other a sickening, violet rot meant to erode magical defenses. Dumbledore stepped into the attack, his movements a blur of silver robes. With a rhythmic, hypnotic rotation of his wrist, he didn't just block the curses; he wove them into a shimmering vortex that he launched back at Echo. The boy barely rolled aside, the vortex tearing a furrow into Wick's tough hide. Shimmer screeched a frantic warning as Dumbledore leveled the Elder Wand again, the tip glowing with a terrifying, absolute light.
"EXPELLIARMUS!" Echo screamed, pouring every ounce of his desperation into the shout.
Dumbledore's eyes flashed with a cold, ancient power as he mirrored the movement with effortless grace: "EXPELLIARMUS!"
The two spells connected, one black and twisted, the other pale and powerful, locking together in a vibrant, shimmering stalemate. Dumbledore seized the moment, his voice softening, attempting to reason with the boy. "Echo, let go of the spell, please. It's a tragedy that it has come to this, but we can still fix it. Come to me, and we will talk this through. I know what you've been through."
"Can it!" Echo yelled, straining against the combined magical force, his arm trembling violently. "I know what you're really like behind the spectacles, the lemon drops, and all the pearls of vague wisdom! You're a user!"
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed, a flicker of something dark and ancient passing behind the lenses. "What are you insisting upon, my boy?" he asked, his voice losing its customary gentle tone.
"I saw your journal!" Echo screamed, the words tearing from his throat.
A surprise—a genuine, profound shock—came upon the old man's face. His grip on the wand momentarily wavered, and the stalemate spell throbbed violently.
"That's right!" Echo yelled, forcing the Elder Wand back a fraction. "You know what I'm talking about. Two years ago, that day when you caught me in your office,e and I showed you that scary book I was reading! It wasn't a book, it was your little hidden journal that I transfigured, the one you had tucked away in a hidden compartment in that oversized desk full of silvery, glittery red-herring baubles! I read it all, Albus! Pages upon pages about me, about the Dark Beast, how it works, why it works, and all the tests you put upon me! The ones who put me in certain stressful situations or who allow certain situations to come upon me! I know it was Lucius who put my name in the Goblet of Fire, but it was you who allowed it to happen! And I don't know how, but I know that today was your doing as well! You wanted to push me to my outer limits and see how far I could bend before I break, and the Dark Beast is fully let out of me! I might be a freak of nature, a blight on the world itself, but you, Albus Dumbledore… you're a monster!"
Echo strained against the spell, the pain in his leg from Sirius's bite momentarily forgotten, replaced by the white-hot agony of betrayal. "I wish you had left me in that alleyway where you found me all those years ago!" he shouted, tears streaming from his eyes, mixing with the grime on his cheeks.
The stalemate between them finally broke with a sound like tearing silk, sending both duelists flying off their feet and landing hard on their butts on the dragon's back as Wick continued to eat the Thestral, chewing with a low, happy rumble.
Suddenly, a second later, Ragnok and Pip reappeared on Wick's back, the house elf clinging frantically to the goblin's robes. Before the old man could react, Pip and Ragnok hit Dumbledore with a stunning spell each. The stunning spells struck him simultaneously, one from the front, one from the side. Dumbledore slumped, his eyes rolling up in his head. Echo, seeing his chance, instantly barked, "EXPELLIARMUS!" The black wand shot out a crimson jet, hitting Dumbledore's slack hand, and the Elder Wand flew free.
The pale wand, true to its nature, immediately arced in the air, seeking a new master, flying straight toward the exhausted boy. However, Echo's own wand was not having it. It would not share another master. The black and twisted wand flew free from Echo's hands and met the Elder Wand head-on with a sound like a hissing snake.
The resulting impact was not a clash of wood, but a burst of magical hostility. The two wands, now sentient weapons, turned on each other in a blazing, acrobatic duel. The Elder Wand—pale, sleek, and radiating an arrogant power—flashed first, spitting rapid-fire jets of blinding, white-gold light that spun through the air like cutting blades. Echo's dark, twisted wand countered, a guttural shriek of magic tearing from its tip as it launched ragged, black-violet bolts of chaotic energy. They danced, spiraled, and dove across the night sky, their spells weaving a deadly tapestry of light and shadow high above the roaring dragon. The Elder Wand attempted a powerful Disarming Charm, a shimmering lasso of pure magic. Still, Echo's fiercely loyal dark wood snapped back with a crackling, concentrated burst of counter-magic, driving the Deathstick back. But the dark, loyal wood of Echo's wand prevailed in fending off the Elder Wand. With two final, definitive claps, both wands returned back to the hands of their rightful owners.
Echo was so stunned by what he saw that he didn't have enough time to react when Dumbledore, already recovering from the stunning spells, used a slicing spell. "Sectumsempr—"
Echo raised his own wand in defense, but the spell hit the center of his wand, slicing the twisted wood in two. Echo gasped and reeled at the sight of his wand now broken in his hands, two useless pieces of black wood.
Dumbledore stood up, adjusting his robes with a grim look of finality. "Give up, my boy."
Echo quickly grabbed onto Wick's back scales for stability. Seeing this, Ragnarok and Pip did the same, clinging tightly to the dragon. Echo gripped the broken halves of his wand, pouring his desperate magic into Wick. "AGITABIT CORPUS!"
The dragon violently shook her back. It was a vicious, serpentine movement that was impossible to cling to. Dumbledore was flung off. He free-fell from the sky for a moment before managing to catch and save himself by first using a powerful Depulso on the ground below, followed by a soft Spongify spell to cushion his landing. Once Dumbledore managed to collect himself, floating in the dark high above the castle grounds, he looked up and saw Wick, with Echo, Ragnok, Shimmer, and Pip, flying off into the protective night. A grim, defeated thought settled in the old man's mind: his research had been discovered.
Back on Wick's back, Echo looked at his broken wand in his hands, his face a mask of profound, desolate grief. Ragnok, his eyes still wide with awe, came up to him. "So sorry about your wand, kid. But you can use mine."
Echo gave a weary shake of his head. "Thanks, Ragnok, but it's technically Sirius Black's wand, and I can't really use any other one besides my own. Otherwise, it'll explode."
As he spoke, he looked down at the two halves of his cursed wand. Then, something amazing and unexpected happened before Echo, Shimmer, Ragnok, and Pip. The broken wand in Echo's hands began to mend itself back together, the two halves twisting and rejoining until it looked good as new.
All of them were surprised by this. Ragnok leaned in, his sharp eyes fixed on the now-perfect wand. "Did you know your wand could do that?"
Echo, who was turning the newly mended wand over in his hands, looked up, the charcoal in his hair softening to a confused, thoughtful gray-blue. "It had been mentioned once," he admitted, a faint, dry chuckle escaping him, "but I kind of forgot about it. Also, I never broke my wand until today, though with how roughly I treat it, I'm surprised I haven't broken it earlier."
With the repaired wand held tight in his hand, a small, stubborn spark of hope returned to the boy's exhausted eyes. He was alive, he was free, and he was finally flying away from Hogwarts, his small, strange family with him. However, the quiet was short-lived. From the churning bank of dark clouds behind them, a dozen streaks of silver light cut through the gloom. The remaining Aurors, hunched low over their racing brooms, surged into view with wands leveled.
"Aw man," Echo groaned, his shoulders sagging for a split second. "Don't these guys know when to give up?" He leaned forward, pressing his chest against the dragon's neck. "Speed it up, Wick! Max power!"
Wick roared, her wings beating with a frantic, rhythmic thunder, but the distance between them and the pursuit began to shrink. The brooms were built for agility and raw velocity, far outstripping even a dragon's top speed in a straight line. Spells began to pepper the air around them—streaks of red and blue light meant to shred Wick's wings and bring the great beast down.
"Pretago!" Ragnok barked, snapping Sirius's wand upward. A shimmering violet dome flickered into existence, catching a pair of Stunning Spells that would have hit Pip. Wick twisted her long neck, snapping her jaws and lobbing spheres of white-hot fire at the closest flyers, while Pip's fingers snapped in a rapid-fire staccato, his elven magic deconstructing oncoming hexes before they could impact. Echo, synced deeply with Shimmer's wide, clouded eyes, yanked on Wick's scales, steering her through a chaotic slalom to avoid the most lethal trajectories. Yet, the Aurors were relentless, closing in from both flanks.
"You got a plan, kid?" Ragnok yelled over the whistling wind. "Because we can't keep this up forever!"
"If we can get into that storm cloud ahead, we can vanish!" Echo shouted back. "But we need an opening and some space; otherwise, they'll just follow our thermal trail or use Tracking Charms."
"You got something to make that opening?"
"I do!" Echo reached into his magic satchel, his hand disappearing into the pocket dimension. He hauled out a heavy, clattering bundle and dumped dozens of various wands onto the dragon's back. Ragnok stared at the pile of wood, his jaw dropping.
"Where the hell did you get all those?"
"Stockpiled them from fighting wannabe dark wizards and poachers," Echo said, his voice tight with focus. "Not important right now. Ever heard of a carnival game called 'Hit the Target'?"
Ragnok gave a grim nod. "Yeah, Goblins invented that game to cheat wizards out of their hard-earned Galleons by offering cheap prizes for their whiny kids."
Echo sighed. "Yeah, that tracks. Look, I'm going to pass my magic through these wands."
"Didn't you just say that makes them explode?"
"Yes," Echo said, grabbing a hawthorn wand and channeling a surge of dark, unstable energy into it. The wood began to glow a violent, pulsing purple. "I hope you've got a good aim!" He tossed the vibrating wand to Ragnok.
The goblin caught it and hurled it like a javelin at the nearest cluster of Aurors. The moment the wand reached the center of their formation, it detonated in a massive, searing explosion of fire that lit up the sky. Ragnok's eyes went wide with shock.
"Gawk later, keep throwing!" Echo shouted, priming another and tossing it. Ragnok threw it true; this one burst into a jagged web of freezing ice, slowing the brooms to a crawl. For several seconds, the sky became a chaotic field of elemental hazards—concussive blasts, lightning arcs, and freezing mists. The organized dogfighting style of the Aurors dissolved into a frantic mess, looking more like flies trying to dodge a swatter.
"More!" Ragnok demanded, his predatory instinct taking over. Echo handed him two at once, but when the goblin reached back again, Echo's hand came up empty. "I'm out!"
"What do you mean, out?"
"I'm out! I don't have an infinite supply! I passively collect these things—I was a student, not a dark wizard hunter!"
Suddenly, the air behind them shivered. Mad-Eye Moody, having used the elemental chaos as a distraction, dived from a high altitude and slammed onto Wick's lower back. "Got you now!" he growled, raising his wand.
Wick, however, wasn't having it. Tired of being used as a floating stage for human duels, she whipped her powerful tail around, snaring Moody around the waist. With a guttural snarl, she flung him under her body, arched her head downward, and clamped her massive jaws onto the man's leg. Moody let out a ragged scream before Wick bit down with bone-crushing force, chomping his leg clean off. She spat the screaming Auror into the void, forcing three of his comrades to break formation to save him as he entered a terminal free-fall.
The opening was there, but two Aurors remained glued to their tail. "They're still coming!" Pip cried.
"I know, let me think!" Echo's mind raced. He remembered a fragment of theory he'd experimented with in the Room of Requirement. "Everyone, mentally prepare and don't scream!"
"For what?" Ragnok asked.
"Shadow magic. I accidentally made a variation—I can use it to invert spells!"
"And how the fuck does that help?"
"Just watch!" Echo held his wand out toward the sky and roared: "Tenebris Inversio Lumos Maxima!"
Instead of a blinding flash of light, a thick, oily cloud of absolute darkness erupted from his wand, expanding instantly to wrap around the entire dragon. They plunged into the storm cloud, and the inversion spell swallowed their forms completely. Wick stopped her frantic flapping and began to glide silently on the thermal currents.
They hovered in the belly of the storm, invisible and hushed. Below them, the two remaining Aurors flew in confused circles. "Where did they go?" one shouted. "They just vanished!"
"We can't just lose track of a fucking dragon!" the other yelled back, but after a minute of fruitless searching, they turned their brooms toward the ground. "Looks like they got away. Let's regroup."
As the Aurors dived away, a collective sigh of relief echoed on Wick's back. Ragnok wiped sweat from his brow. "I can't believe that worked."
"Master Echo is the greatest!" Pip squeaked.
Echo, however, remained grim, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the sun would eventually rise. "We're not out of the woods just yet. We have to make ground, and lots of it."
"Where are we even gonna go, Mister Echo?" Pip asked.
"Somewhere far," Echo whispered. "Anywhere but here."
He signaled Wick, and the dragon began a steady, silent flight toward the horizon. Echo kept the inverted Lumos active, cloaking them so they appeared as nothing more than a stray dark cloud drifting across the midnight sky.