The Empty Chest

By the time they reached Hagrid's hut, the skies had cleared. Albus knocked, and soon the enormous man stood in the doorway.

"Oy, it's you lot! Come in, come in," he said warmly. Arya remembered seeing him at the train station—his beard was now streaked with white.

His home was small but cosy. A fire roared in the hearth, and a large furry dog dozed beside it. There was a basket of food, shelves lined with magical creature care supplies, and a pair of pristine white gloves.

"Please, have a seat. You must be the new student," Hagrid said to Arya, extending a hand. Hers looked like a teacup next to a cauldron.

He poured each of them a large glass of milk and set out a plate of raisin cookies. Arya reached for one, but Scorpius leaned over and whispered, "If I were you, I wouldn't eat anything Hagrid made." She withdrew her hand quickly.

"So, what's new, Albus? Ginny told me you two got detention. Didn't you promise your dad not to get into any more trouble?"

"It wasn't dangerous," Albus replied. "Just a silly duel."

"Ah, right." Hagrid poured more milk into a mug comically larger than the others.

Albus went on, "We came to see you on the day of our punishment, Hagrid—but you weren't here."

Hagrid coughed awkwardly. "Ah, something came up—sorry I wasn't around. But I can make it up to you with a bit of hospitality. Try one of these biscuits, young lady. What was your name again?"

"Arya."

"Ah yes, Arya! Arya, tell us a bit about the wizarding community in America."

Albus cut in quickly.

"Actually, we didn't come here just to chat."

Scorpius continued, "The truth is—we saw the Forbidden Forest on fire a few nights ago."

Hagrid visibly lost his composure. His hand knocked over his mug of milk, spilling it across the table and onto their robes.

Albus stood up to wipe himself off, while Hagrid fetched a cloth in a flustered rush.

"Er—right, well, that's Hogwarts business. I'm more surprised you lot were even awake at that hour," Hagrid muttered.

"We were doing homework," said Albus. Arya and Scorpius nodded firmly in agreement.

"Well, whatever you were doing, this matter doesn't concern you," Hagrid said gruffly. "Your father was the same, Albus—always sticking his nose into Hogwarts business. But this... this was ordered by the Headmistress."

"It was?" Arya asked sharply. "What exactly was ordered?"

"That's none of your concern. The Headmistress asked me to get rid of … well, it's done now. Best head back to your dormitories before it gets dark. Off you go now."

They exchanged glances. Clearly, Hagrid wasn't going to tell them anything more. As they left the hut, Scorpius muttered, "I knew we wouldn't get much out of Hagrid."

"Yeah," Arya replied, "But at least now we know they destroyed the creatures."

And with that, they rushed off toward the dungeons.

The following afternoon, as Arya and Scorpius made their way toward the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, Arya remarked,

"Your moving staircases are quite something. Next time I'm in Professor McGonagall's office, I ought to ask what spell keeps them going."

Climbing the steps, she added, "Honestly, why does she seem to have such a problem with me? She speaks as though I've usurped her beloved school!"

Scorpius chuckled. "Truthfully, it's not your fault. She's just... fiercely loyal."

Arya turned. "Loyal to what?"

"To Quidditch. And to the school," he replied, grinning.

As they strolled down the corridor, they spotted Albus and James deep in conversation. Arya found it odd how alike the two brothers were—when apart, they seemed entirely distinct, but standing side by side, they resembled two pieces of the same artefact.

James glanced at Arya sideways but continued speaking to Albus. Arya grabbed Scorpius by the sleeve and whispered,

"Let's go."

They entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and took seats at the very back, near the door. Arya opened her notebook to review her design—she had possibly uncovered a powerful locator spell.

Professor Weasley entered.

"Right then, everyone, today we're working on non-verbal spells. We had a go at these last year, and frankly, I didn't think you were quite ready. But this year, no excuses. Focus your mind and repeat the incantations silently. Pair up, please."

Arya and Scorpius faced each other. Arya wasn't particularly nervous—she could already cast spells non-verbally with some ease. However, it seemed Scorpius was equally skilled; as he locked eyes with her, her wand was suddenly flung from her grip.

"Well done, Mr Malfoy," said Professor Weasley. "Five points to Slytherin."

An hour into the class, most students had managed a few disarmament charms without speaking. Just as they expected the session to end, Professor Weasley leaned over Arya's desk, eyes fixed on her notes.

"Miss Calderon, would you mind visiting the Headmistress's office after break?"

Arya looked hesitant. "Have I done something wrong, Professor?"

"Not at all. Just a little chat."

"Alright then."

As she packed up her belongings, a Gryffindor girl nearby smirked.

"Better hope it's just a chat, Calderon."

Arya ignored her and set off through the winding corridors toward the Head's office, ears covered to block out Peeves's shrieking voice. Still, she muttered under her breath,

"I can't believe they let ghosts wander the school… If it were my old school, no way would creatures like that be allowed near the dormitories!"

The memory of the word creatures made her giggle involuntarily. "They're not even proper creatures," she whispered, still amused...

She spoke the password and ascended the stone staircase. She hadn't quite reached the door when voices caught her attention—coming from inside the office.

"What do you mean it's escaped, Minerva?"

"It's all very strange."

"Surely it couldn't have done this alone."

"But the students could be in danger!"

"Yes, best to inform them."

"Let the Quidditch match finish first. I'll make the announcement afterwards. For now, get on with what I told you."

Arya heard footsteps approaching the door and quickly knocked.

"Come in?"

She stepped inside. The office was full of professors—Weasley, Salavar, Spencer, and the Care of Magical Creatures teacher whose name Arya couldn't recall. Headmistress McGonagall was seated behind her desk, eyeing Arya with surprise.

"What are you doing here, Miss Calderon?"

Arya opened her mouth to speak, but Professor Weasley cut in swiftly.

"Minerva, I asked her to come—in regard to that matter we discussed."

McGonagall lowered her voice and murmured, "Ah yes, right. We'd finished anyway. We'll see you at the Great Hall."

The other professors departed, leaving only McGonagall, Weasley, and Arya.

"Professor, what did you want to talk about?" Arya asked.

Professor Weasley replied, "That thing you'd drawn in your notebook—we just wanted to know what it is. I saw it myself in the second floor lavatory—the day you cracked the ceiling."

Arya opened her mouth, but McGonagall didn't give her the chance.

"What is it? Some kind of symbol used at Ilvermorny?" she asked, gesturing at the drawing in Arya's notebook.

"Of course not," Arya said quickly. "That's my invention," and began explaining the mechanism of her magical tracker.

Professor McGonagall looked astonished—more than Arya had ever seen her.

"Oh, Miss Calderon—have you considered what could happen if this device fell into the hands of Muggles or criminals?"

Arya took a deep breath.

"It's a magical device. No Muggle could ever use it. And as for criminals, I thought perhaps the Ministry could produce a limited number for official use. Though it's not entirely finished yet, the design's nearly complete. If it's a problem, I could offer it to MACUSA instead."

McGonagall seemed to soften a bit. Clearly, she didn't want the American Ministry to outpace them.

"Alright. You may continue developing it, Miss Calderon. But speak of it to no one. If you need any materials, you may ask Bill."

Professor Weasley gave Arya a supportive smile.

"Thank you very much, Professor."

Arya turned to leave but her attention was drawn to the corner of the office—the same ornate trunk with its intricate metalwork and the image of a griffin. It appeared to be empty now.

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