"Welcome to the second task of the Triwizard Tournament."
Dumbledore's amplified voice rolled across the water and all three towers, carrying clearly across the cold air.
"Last night, something precious was taken from each of our four champions. That treasure rests now at the bottom of the Black Lake."
"Your task: dive to the bottom, find what belongs to you, bring it back to the surface. You have one hour."
"Miss your window — and what you've lost stays lost."
The cannon fired.
Krum and Fleur went into the water before the echo had settled — possibly half a second before the cannon, if anyone had been counting closely enough to matter. They were gone, the lake closing over them.
Harry shot a look at Kevin, still completely dry in his heavy robes.
Kevin looked back. Then planted a boot firmly between Harry's shoulder blades.
Harry went in.
Kevin remained on the platform. The crowd assumed he'd been caught off guard. Voices started calling out. A few officials moved.
Kevin raised his wand.
The surface of the Black Lake directly ahead of him began to freeze. Not sheeting across the water — building upward, shaping itself, a sleek narrow form solidifying out of the chop. An ice canoe, floating perfectly level.
He stepped onto it.
The stands went quiet. Then very loud.
The canoe glided out from shore without any visible propulsion, moving fast — faster than a running pace — and everywhere within ten metres of it, the water smoothed absolutely flat. Not a ripple. Like he was crossing glass.
From the towers, Omnioculars tracked the blue cloak disappearing across the water. Hermione, up in the stands, was already gripping the railing.
On the canoe, Kevin closed his eyes. He reached for that faint compass-pull and focused until it sharpened. Not precise to the centimetre, but enough. Directly below. Thirty metres down.
He opened his eyes. The towers were small in the distance. The castle a smudge.
The canoe stopped.
He raised his wand.
"Water God's Command."
From the towers, Omnioculars caught it: the lake ahead of the canoe didn't splash or surge — it tore. Like an invisible hand had ripped through fabric, the water split along a clean vertical line, opening a dry corridor straight down into the dark. The walls held, lake water pressing against invisible barriers on either side, the pale lake bed visible far below.
Kevin stepped off the canoe and dropped in.
The corridor sealed behind him.
"What was that?"
"The lake opened—"
"Did he just—"
Up in the stands, students who'd caught it were talking very fast. Even Karkaroff's expression had lost its careful composure. One of the Beauxbatons girls had both hands pressed to her mouth.
In the stands, Hermione's knuckles had gone white on the railing.
The passage through the lake was cold and absolutely silent. Kevin moved down it quickly, following the pull like a thread. Grindylows scattered from the walls as he descended — the pressure differential of the open corridor apparently alarming enough that nothing wanted to be near it.
He found Hermione in the merpeople village, tied to a stone post by a length of weed, hair floating in the current, eyes closed in the enchanted sleep. He untied her, put an arm around her, took her weight.
Then he went straight up.
The column of water that erupted from the lake surface was visible from the shore. It shot upward eight metres, and Kevin came with it — Hermione cradled against him, both of them riding the crest — and landed on the ice canoe with perfect balance.
The stands erupted.
"OHHHH!"
"Kevin! Under ten minutes!"
He looked at Hermione. Then waved his wand once, and every drop of water peeled off her clothes and hair. Bone dry before the cheer had finished. He shrugged out of his cloak and wrapped it around her, and the canoe began its return glide.
Hermione came around gradually as they moved, blinking, disoriented. She looked up at him. Around at the lake. Up at the grey sky.
"Kevin." Soft exhale. "I couldn't see anything down there. But I knew you were coming." She paused, something wondering in her expression. "I wasn't frightened at all."
He'd felt the same — even with the bracelet taken, certainty rather than hope. Not a guess. Knowledge.
He looked down at her and filed the question away for later.
The canoe reached the platform. Staff rushed out with towels and steaming flasks. They took in Kevin and Hermione — completely dry, Hermione already with colour in her cheeks — and stood there with the resigned expressions of people whose planning had been thoroughly overtaken by events.
Kevin reached into his bag and produced a small vial. Hermione took it without being asked and drank.
The staff exchanged a look.
Ron pushed through the crowd with a huge grin. "Kevin, that was brilliant!" He launched into a detailed account of what it had looked like from the stands — the corridor, the eruption, Hermione arriving bone dry while everyone else was still wringing out their sleeves.
Kevin mentioned, casually, that there had been two other figures tied down in the merpeople village. He hadn't touched them. Krum and Fleur needed to find their own.
Ron sobered slightly. Right. Still a tournament.
Harry surfaced twelve minutes in, Ginny beside him — both soaked, both shivering, both grinning. The staff descended on them with genuine purpose and Kevin resisted the urge to hand over another batch of vials.
Harry had navigated the grindylows, found the merpeople village, untied Ginny cleanly. He hadn't touched the other hostages. Done right.
Harry clapped Kevin's arm when he was dry enough. "You cleared everything out in front of me. The grindylows scattered completely."
"Side effect of the corridor. Didn't plan it."
"Still." Harry smiled.
Twenty minutes after Harry, Krum and Fleur broke the surface in quick succession. Both task-complete. The judges ranked the results in order of return: Kevin first, Harry second, Krum third, Fleur fourth.
The Hogwarts section of the stands had not stopped making noise for the better part of an hour.