Kevin gave the Grangers a light version of events the next morning — Hogwarts wanted them back early, nothing to worry about. They accepted this, asked no difficult questions, and by that afternoon the camp was packed and they were on the road home.
One day to sort luggage. Then the train.
When they got back, the Hogsmeade permission slips were waiting. Ron and Draco sent theirs home by owl. Harry didn't bother hoping his uncle would sign his — experience had taught him better. Hermione signed her own with the efficiency of someone who had stopped finding the form meaningful. Kevin ignored his. He could go whenever he wanted.
He spent the last afternoon packing the rest of his supplies into his extension bag and listening to the others talk. The tension in the room had settled into a specific, familiar shape — the kind that comes from knowing something difficult is coming and not being able to hurry toward it or away from it.
"They're after Harry specifically," Kevin said. "You lot are worried like you're the ones in danger."
"The man broke out of Azkaban," Ron said. "Nobody's done that before. And he wants Harry dead."
"You've all stood in front of Voldemort. Twice. And Voldemort was only half-dead by then."
"That was different. Dumbledore was there."
"You think Dumbledore's sitting this one out?"
Ron opened his mouth and closed it.
"Snape only sent the message because Dumbledore told him to. Dumbledore is involved. Worry about your coursework instead."
He wasn't wrong, but nobody felt fully reassured. Harry, at least, had shifted from anger into something quieter and more purposeful — he was past wanting to be calmed down and was now making plans.
Morning. Platform. They boarded.
A handful of other students had come back early too. Word had got round.
Kevin found them a compartment. Six of them, snug. No Lupin this time — Kevin wondered if the Dementors would even show. He'd never had anything resembling a tragedy in this life, whatever the bracelet's history. If one came for him, it might find nothing to drink.
The train pulled out.
Rain streaked the windows. The landscape turned grey and flat.
SCREEEEECH.
Metal shrieked. The train jolted. Lights went out.
Frost crept up the glass in real time, spreading finger by finger. The cold that arrived was not weather — it was deeper than that, something that reached past cloth and skin and got into the chest.
Hermione's hand found Kevin's arm.
A scream from the next compartment. Then a horrible, rattling sound, like someone drawing air through a wet cloth.
Harry was already at the door, peering out.
Kevin was already past him.
The Dementor was in the corridor, hood turned toward a guard who had gone slack and pale. Wisps of something pale rose from the man's open mouth.
Kevin launched a kick into the Dementor's midsection. It was like hitting wet cloth over a hollow frame — the thing recoiled more in surprise than pain, its hood swinging toward him.
"Exclamation of Gods."
White energy condensed at his wand tip and hit the Dementor like a punch. No explosive force, no collateral — just direct impact, something that existed on the right frequency to bother the thing. It flew backward down the corridor.
More cold pressing in from both ends of the train. More than one.
Kevin shoved the stunned guard into the compartment. "Take care of him." He was already moving.
He went out the window and up. The roof of the train, wind tearing past him, rain cutting sideways.
Five Dementors drifting above, keeping pace.
"Expecto Patronum."
The spell rose warm from somewhere in his chest — a single goldfish, silver and trailing light, spinning up from his wand tip into the cold air. It was, objectively, the least impressive Patronus shape imaginable.
The Dementors shrieked.
Kevin flicked his wrist and sent the goldfish diving straight through the roof of the train. It passed through solid matter like it wasn't there — he could track it below, phasing from car to car, flushing two more Dementors out through the sides. They scattered into the clouds, and they didn't come back.
The lights blinked on. The cold lifted.
His goldfish surfaced back through the roof, looped twice around him with something that felt suspiciously like self-satisfaction, then dissolved.
He dropped back inside.
A guard found him almost immediately. Kevin handed the knocked-out man off and made his way back to the compartment.
"What was that?" Ron asked, slightly breathless.
Hermione was checking Kevin's hands and sleeves for injuries with her fingers, not asking, just checking.
"Dementors," Kevin said, and let her do it. "Those were Dementors. The spell's called the Exclamation of Gods. It's the one that actually works on them." He patted her hand when she'd finished. "I'm fine."
"Dementors are Azkaban prison guards," Draco said. He didn't look surprised Kevin had handled them. He looked like he was processing something more complicated. "What are they doing on a train?"
"Hunting Sirius."
Harry's fists tightened in his lap. Not fear. Determination.
"It's handled," Kevin said. "When we get to Hogwarts, Dumbledore will explain everything properly."
He'd expected year three to be quieter than year two. He was beginning to think that had been optimistic.
I'm going to dismantle every single one of those things.
"Kevin," Harry said. "Will you teach me the Patronus Charm?"
"Yes," Kevin said. "It's not impossible, just not easy. I'll show you at school — Snape doesn't have me this year, so I've got time."
Hermione perked up. More time. She tried not to look as pleased as she was and mostly succeeded.
The train rolled on to Hogwarts.