Wand. The word was something of an oh moment for Lock. He had never been bad at magic, but it had never, throughout his entire life, been his instinct, and he often felt rather embarrassed when someone pointed out to him that he could have done something much easier with a spell than he could have with his hands. That made him an excellent beater — where brute force was the rule and magic disallowed — and a rather shoddy referee. Hopefully his refereeing days were over now that he was back in professional Quidditch again, but even so, he did wish, from time to time, that he thought things through enough to use magic. This was certainly one of those times. His own wand was in his pocket, and why hadn't he thought to pull that out prior to her suggestion that she go and fetch his?

Maybe she supposed he was a Muggle, and that was why he'd been nearly diving in after her rather than using a very simple spell to levitate her out. They were in an area with a fair few Muggles, after all, and maybe it would be less embarrassing to just go fetch her wand and let her think that, rather than believe that he was some kind of moron. That would involve letting her sink back into the icy water again, though, and he wasn't entirely confident that he'd be able to fish her out again. On the other hand, he couldn't exactly draw his own wand, with her hanging on one of his hands and her child supported by his other.

"Mine's in my front pocket," he said, nodding down towards his coat pocket. "D'you think you can reach?"