The heavy, suffocating blanket of final exams had finally been lifted, leaving the student body in a state of collective euphoria. The June sun was relentless, baking the stone walls of the castle until they radiated heat, but down by the banks of the Black Lake, the air was almost pleasant.
Albert, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan had claimed a prime spot under the sprawling canopy of a massive beech tree. They sat in a semi-circle of mismatched deck chairs, the grass cool beneath their feet and several condensation-slicked bottles of Butterbeer resting in a bucket of magically chilled water nearby.
"To surviving another year without being turned into a teacup or eaten by a stray creature," Fred declared, hoisting his bottle high.
"I'll drink to that," Lee said, clinking his glass against Fred's. The sound of clinking glass was the unofficial anthem of the post-exam season. After a long, appreciative pull of the ice-cold beverage, the stifling heat of the afternoon seemed to retreat, replaced by a refreshing buzz and the gentle, rhythmic lapping of the lake against the shore.
A few yards away, the Giant Squid was enjoying the weather too. Its thick, rubbery tentacles broke the surface of the shimmering water, lazily undulating in the shallows like giant, sun-drenched noodles.
"Serious question," George started, leaning back until his chair creaked ominously. "How old do you think that thing actually is? It's been here since Charlie's time, and Bill's, and probably since the castle was a pile of rubble."
"Hundreds of years, easy," Lee guessed.
"Do squids even live that long?" Fred asked skeptically. "Most things that aren't wizards or turtles tend to check out after a decade or two."
Naturally, all three pairs of eyes gravitated toward Albert. He was sprawled out on his chair, his school tie loosened and his eyes half-closed as he soaked in the rare moment of leisure. He looked like he was on the verge of a nap, but he didn't miss a beat.
"Who's to say?" Albert murmured, yawning lazily. "The Giant Squid is a bit of an anomaly. I like to imagine it's a holdover from the early days—maybe a pet the Four Founders kept to keep the lake from getting lonely. Or perhaps Rowena Ravenclaw wanted a giant, multi-armed librarian for the aquatic section."
"I could see that," Lee said, picking up a fallen twig and wandering to the water's edge. He began gently poking at a stray tentacle that had drifted near the bank. "They say it's harmless. Apparently, it's got a soft spot for first-years. If someone falls out of a boat during the crossing, the squid just shoves them back in like a concerned parent."
As if on cue, the squid's tentacle gave a sudden, playful flick. A massive spray of lake water erupted, drenching Lee from head to toe.
Fred and George howled with laughter as Lee stood there, dripping and indignant, while the squid's tentacle gave a mock salute before sinking back into the depths.
"See? Harmless," Fred managed to choke out through his hysterics. "It just wanted to make sure you were hydrated, Lee."
"Normal animals definitely don't have a sense of humor like that," Fred continued, wiping a tear from his eye. "And they definitely don't live for centuries. Albert, you're making things up again."
"Not necessarily," Albert said, sitting up and taking a slow sip of his beer. "There are plenty of magical precedents. Look at the Phoenix. They're effectively immortal, provided they don't mind the occasional stint as a pile of ash."
The twins and Lee rolled their eyes in unison. "Besides a Phoenix, Einstein. Something a bit more... grounded."
Albert's expression turned slightly mysterious, a glint of genuine academic curiosity in his eyes. "Well, if you want something less majestic, look at the Basilisk. The King of Snakes is known to live for several hundred years—some records suggest even longer if the conditions are right."
"A Basilisk?" George asked, his brow furrowing. "Is that the one that hatches from a rooster's egg?"
"Exactly," Albert said, leaning forward. " 'Of the many terrifying monsters and creatures that roam our lands, the strangest and most deadly is the Basilisk... It is hatched from a rooster's egg, sat upon by a toad.' I believe that's the exact phrasing from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them."
"You've literally memorized the textbook, haven't you?" Fred muttered, staring at Albert with a mixture of awe and annoyance. "How much free time do you actually have?"
"You're focusing on the wrong part of the equation, Fred," Albert said, shaking his head. "The point is that the Basilisk isn't a natural occurrence. It's a created monster. A product of Dark Wizards experimenting with cross-breeding and magical incubation. Its gaze is its primary weapon—a direct look into its eyes is an instant death sentence."
He widened his eyes dramatically, staring at the twins until they instinctively looked away. "Just like that. Only with more yellow and a lot more 'being dead' afterward."
"So you think the squid is a 'created monster' too?" Lee asked, rubbing his face with his sleeve to dry off.
"It makes sense, doesn't it?" Albert suggested. "Think about the Founders. They built this school in an age of constant conflict—the Dark Ages weren't exactly known for their hospitality. They needed defenses. A giant, semi-sentient squid in the only navigable path to the castle is a brilliant deterrent. Any invading army trying to cross that lake in wooden boats would be at the mercy of something that can capsize a ship with a single limb. It's a biological security system."
"You make Hogwarts sound like a fortress instead of a school," George noted.
"It is a fortress," Albert reminded them. "Look at the architecture. Narrow windows, thick stone, gargoyles that can come to life, and suits of armor that aren't just for decoration. When the chips are down, a wizard can animate those knights into a literal army of hollow soldiers. The Founders weren't just teachers; they were survivors."
The twins shared a glance. "You're making it sound like we're living in a war zone, Albert. It's just a castle with some dusty armor."
"A thousand years ago, the world was a very different place," Albert said, his tone turning reflective. "Muggle armies, rival dark wizards, ancient creatures... order didn't exist. If a king decided he didn't like the look of a magical school, he'd send five hundred men to tear it down. The Founders had to be prepared to hold the line. Though," he smiled, breaking the heavy mood, "I've checked the library archives pretty thoroughly, and I haven't found a single record of a full-scale siege. So either they were very good at defending, or very good at hiding."
"So basically, you just spent ten minutes spinning a giant yarn to distract us," Fred said, rolling his eyes. "Classic Albert."
"It's an educated guess!" Albert defended himself with a grin.
"Forget the history lesson," Fred said, dropping his voice and glancing around to ensure no one from the staff or the Slytherin table was lurking nearby. "When are we actually going after it? The real prize. Gryffindor's secret cache."
Albert's playful demeanor vanished, replaced by the sharp, focused energy he usually reserved for high-level transfiguration. "Tomorrow morning. First light, while the rest of the school is still recovering from the post-exam parties."
"How are we getting deep enough into the woods without being spotted by Hagrid or the centaurs?" George asked. "It's a long walk to the coordinates you found."
"We aren't walking," Albert said simply. "We're going by broom."
The three of them stared at him. "By broom?" Lee asked. "I thought the treasure was hidden in a cave or something underground."
"It's in the heart of the Forbidden Forest, Lee. Do you have any idea how thick the undergrowth is in there? Trying to navigate that on foot is a suicide mission. You'd stumble into a nest of Acromantulas before you could even draw your wand." Albert gestured toward the dense, dark treeline in the distance. "Flying is the only logical way. We fly over the canopy, pinpoint the location from above, and then drop down once we're certain of the terrain."
"Then what was the point of all that dueling practice?" Lee complained. "I've spent three weeks learning how to blast spiders into next Tuesday, and now you're telling me we're just going for a scenic flight?"
"The practice was for the 'just in case' part of the trip," Albert explained patiently. "If something goes wrong—if we have to land in a tight spot or if something flies up to meet us—I'd rather you be able to defend yourselves than just scream and fall off. It's about insurance, Lee."
"I feel like an idiot," George muttered. "Fred and I were planning our route through the brambles for weeks. We never even thought about the brooms."
"To be fair, we didn't have decent brooms back then," Fred pointed out. "And we certainly didn't have the Silver Arrow."
"Speaking of which," Lee said, sounding a bit anxious. "I'm the only one without a ride. Are you expecting me to just grow wings, or am I hitching a lift?"
"George can carry you," Fred said instantly, a mischievous glint in his eye. "He's got the broadest shoulders."
"Idiot," George snapped. "Albert's still got the Silver Arrow, doesn't he? We'll just double up. Lee can ride with one of us, or we can use the Silver Arrow as a secondary transport."
"Is that thing even safe?" Lee asked, looking toward the castle where Albert's antique broom was stored. "It's practically a museum piece. What if the charms fail mid-air? I don't want to be the first student in history to die from an antique broom malfunction."
"It's fine," Albert said, waving a hand dismissively. "It's built for durability. Besides, if you fall, I've been practicing my Arresto Momentum. I'll catch you before you hit the trees. Probably."
Lee groaned, sinking into his chair. "If you can't offer actual comfort, just shut up. I really don't want my 'Special Contribution' to the school to be a crater in the middle of the Forbidden Forest."