The Hogwats Gaijin

The Gryffindor common room was filled with that special evening chaos to which Kieran had grown accustomed since autumn. The thick scent of burning logs mingled with the aroma of drying ink and fresh baking someone had smuggled from the kitchens. In one corner Exploding Snap cards detonated with loud bangs; in another Fred and George murmured over their latest new product; above it all floated the cosy hum of dozens of voices.

Hermione had completely shut herself off from the noise. She sat deep in an armchair by the fire, the book Moody had given her almost entirely concealing her face. She paid no heed to the card explosions or the feathers flying past, only occasionally tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and leaving a faint ink smudge on her cheek from her stained fingers.

‘Come on, Morgan, don’t be modest,’ Ginny Weasley leant forward, unceremoniously shoving the chessboard aside.

After Ron had regaled his sister with every detail of their training session on the clearing, Ginny had latched onto Kieran like a limpet.

‘Ron said you move like lightning. And that you box — whatever that means. And fence. Take me to training tomorrow, please?’

‘Weasley, I’m not a professor,’ Kieran made a feeble attempt to sink back into the sofa. ‘Harry and I just warm up. I don’t teach anyone; these aren’t lessons.’

‘But Moody praised you!’ Ginny shook her head, and her fiery red hair — reaching nearly to her waist — spilled across her shoulders. She poked Kieran sharply in the shoulder with a small, hard fist. ‘And if someone like Alastor Moody approves, that’s more than enough for me!’

Kieran looked at her, involuntarily noting to himself: the girl was flint. Bright freckles on her nose, stubbornly upturned chin, and a gaze so direct and combative that it was immediately clear — she would not back down. She had the same breeding as Ron, but the character seemed concentrated, stripped of his constant doubts.

‘Ooooh!’ Hermione’s sudden exclamation made the whole group start.

Hermione clutched the book to her chest, leapt up, and squeezed onto the sofa beside Kieran.

‘Harry! Here! Quickly!’ She waved urgently at Potter.

When Harry and Ron approached, she opened the book on her lap again and jabbed her finger at the middle of the page.

‘Listen! It says here about the merpeople. Their vocal apparatus is structured so the vocal cords can vibrate properly only in dense water. In open air their language becomes an unbearable screech and scrape — it’s simply physiology!’

Hermione beamed as though she had just won the Triwizard Cup. She turned her delighted gaze from one friend to another.

Kieran looked at Ron — he looked as though he had just been read a lecture on ancient runes in Latin. Harry narrowed his eyes and nodded with such a profound air that it was obvious he had understood not a word. Ginny thoughtfully twirled a lock around her finger, waiting for the conclusion.

Kieran caught himself thinking that his own face probably wore the same degree of slow comprehension.

Hermione exhaled in disappointment and pressed her palm hard to her face.

‘Is it really not obvious?’ she groaned through her fingers. ‘The merpeople’s voices on land are a screech. The golden egg on land is a screech. The merpeople’s voices, Harry, must be heard underwater! Even if those voices are magically recorded inside the artefact!’

In Kieran’s head a switch seemed to click. The sensation was so distinct he almost heard the sound.

‘Bloody hell,’ he breathed at the same moment as Harry.

Potter’s face first lit with understanding, then instantly darkened. He frowned at Hermione.

‘Wait… you’re saying I need to stick my head underwater with the egg?’

‘Exactly!’ Hermione nodded eagerly. ‘And I’m almost certain the Second Task itself will be connected to the Black Lake!’

Harry clutched his head, rumpling his already messy hair.

‘Brilliant. Simply marvellous. And what, pray tell, strengths am I supposed to use underwater? Summoning my broom isn’t likely to work down there…’

‘We need to test the hypothesis first,’ Hermione was already on her feet, resuming her commanding tone. ‘Ron, take Harry to the prefects’ bathroom. Right now — it should be empty in the evenings. Take the egg and check!’

Kieran also began to rise, thinking an extra pair of eyes could not hurt, but Hermione firmly pressed a hand to his shoulder, seating him again.

‘No, Kieran. You’re coming with me.’

‘To the bathroom?’ He raised an eyebrow.

‘To the library!’ she snapped. ‘There are still two hours till curfew. We must find everything concerning underwater survival, orientation, and swift movement. While the boys listen to the recording, we prepare the ground.’

Kieran glanced at the departing Harry and Ron, then at the resolute Hermione, who was already slinging her bag over her shoulder. The cosiness of the common room instantly gave way to the premonition of a long night over dusty tomes. At least it was an excuse to escape Ginny, though Kieran suspected the youngest Weasley would not be so easily shaken off. As he stepped through the portrait hole he could still feel her impatient gaze on his back.

Kieran followed Hermione through the echoing corridors, barely keeping up with her determined stride. It seemed the energy she drew from the new riddle could have lit half the castle.

‘Kieran, do you swim well yourself?’ she asked without turning. ‘Do you know charms for surviving underwater? Beyond the most basic ones?’

Kieran paused for a second, and before his eyes rose the grey, furious waves crashing against the jade cliffs of Minami Iwo Jima. His shoulders twitched involuntarily at the cold memory.

‘No,’ he replied, catching up. ‘While I studied at Mahoutokoro, the sea around the island was our main boundary. It was too dangerous, too stormy, with unpredictable currents. Surviving in such water without special preparation was almost impossible, so we had no practice. The sensei considered it unjustified risk.’

Hermione nodded as she walked, listening intently.

‘There were mad ones, of course,’ Kieran continued, remembering the past. ‘Students who tried partially Transfiguring themselves into aquatic animals. There was one girl Animagus… she turned into an otter.’

At the mention of Yumi a pang struck his chest. He remembered how she would vanish into the surf, and how in otter form the eternal wariness vanished from her eyes. There, in the water, she seemed far freer and happier than within the tight walls of the school, where every step was governed by tradition.

‘But even they didn’t venture far,’ he added. ‘It was more a matter of challenge: “Look what I can do.” There were no deep-sea explorers among us.’

At a turn towards the main staircase they nearly collided with Professor Snape. He froze like a black shadow materialising from nowhere. His cold, displeased gaze lingered for a second on Hermione, then shifted to Morgan.

‘Good evening, Professor,’ Kieran greeted politely.

Looking at the Potions master, he caught himself thinking that this man appeared either mortally weary or deeply unhappy with his daily occupation. In his stoop and the harsh lines about his mouth lay some long-standing bitterness.

‘And where are you rushing at such a late hour, Mr Morgan? Miss Granger?’ Snape enquired with venom. ‘Another world-saving mission that brooks no delay?’

‘We’re going to the library, sir,’ Hermione answered, not even attempting to hide her impatience.

Snape gave a short, dry sound resembling a sneer.

‘To the library…’ he repeated with an intonation of “who would have thought”. ‘How rare and unexpected a destination for you. Go on. And try not to tear the doors off their hinges.’

He swept past, robes billowing. Kieran watched him go for a long moment, but Hermione was already tugging his sleeve.

‘Quickly, Kieran! Madam Pince won’t let us stay after curfew!’

They burst into the library. Hermione, like a self-guided spell, darted along the bookcases. She did not select books — she swept them up. One heavy volume, a second, a third… All landed in Kieran’s arms, and he felt with horror how the pile grew taller and heavier. His arms began to ache under the weight of magical knowledge.

Merlin, does she carry such loads every day? he thought, barely seeing the way past the mountain of bindings.

At last they reached the furthest table in the depths of the hall. Hermione gestured for him to set the books down and immediately set to work. She opened three massive tomes at once, spreading them in a fan, and began leafing through them simultaneously, eyes darting from page to page with alarming speed.

Kieran sat opposite and simply watched her. In her concentrated face, in the way she bit her lip and rapidly jotted notes on a scrap of parchment, there was such passion and strength that he felt something like awed terror. Here, among the dusty shelves, Hermione Granger was in her true element.

Half an hour later the silence was rudely shattered by running footsteps. From behind the stacks emerged Harry and Ron. Both looked as though they had just taken a swim: hair wet, shirt collars soaked beneath their robes, breathing hard, eyes fever-bright.

They collapsed into chairs beside Hermione and Kieran, panting.

‘Well?’ Hermione instantly set down her quill, fixing them with a stare. ‘What happened? Did it work?’

‘You were… absolutely… right,’ Harry gasped, wiping a drop of water that had rolled from his forehead onto his glasses. ‘Underwater it sings. A proper song.’

‘We listened to it so many times I nearly drowned holding that blasted thing,’ Ron added, trying to smooth his wet red spikes. ‘But Harry finally made out the words.’

Hermione tapped her fingers impatiently on the table.

‘Get to the point! What does it sing about?’

‘Something precious will be taken from me,’ Harry sobered. ‘And I’ll have only one hour to find and retrieve it. Obviously we’ll be searching on the lake bed.’

Ron scratched the back of his head thoughtfully.

‘Only what could they take? Your broom? Or your Invisibility Cloak? But how would they get into the tower?’

‘What if they take you, Ron?’ Harry gave a weak smile.

Ron gave a short laugh but waved the idea away.

‘Oh, come off it. I’m not that valuable, but your broom…’

‘Quiet!’ Hermione hissed, glancing nervously towards Madam Pince’s desk. ‘This is no joke. If the task is underwater, another problem arises that you two, as I see, haven’t even considered.’

Harry and Ron turned to her in unison.

‘You can’t speak underwater,’ Hermione enunciated clearly. ‘Which means casting spells the usual way won’t work. You… that is, you, Harry, will have to practise non-verbal magic. Silent spells are sixth-year material, but we have no choice.’

She swept a sceptical gaze over her friends.

‘And does any of the present merry company know how to cast without opening their mouth?’

Harry and Ron exchanged looks and hung their heads. Silence descended over the table, almost tangible.

Kieran slowly raised his hand, feeling oddly awkward.

‘I know a little about it,’ he said quietly but confidently.

All three — Harry, Ron, and Hermione — froze, turning their heads to him as one.