As soon as work hours were over, Lockhart eagerly jumped up. Garr, even quicker, shed his hospital uniform, and within three minutes, both of them had bolted out of the hospital.
Apparition to get home was certainly convenient, but using such magic easily left strong magical traces, and the elite Aurors of the Ministry of Magic had mastered specific detection spells.
Moreover, using magic in areas populated by Muggles could easily violate the Statute of Secrecy. The Ministry of Magic would immediately send a letter and dispatch someone to investigate, and then they would be pleasantly surprised to discover two nationally wanted fugitives there, subsequently summoning Aurors and over a hundred Dementors...
Considering such dire consequences, Lockhart and Garr immediately abandoned all shortcuts, steadfastly refusing to risk using magic, and instead behaved exactly like ordinary Muggles.
"Let's hail a cab, it'll be faster!"
Lockhart instinctively stood by the street, extending his hand, but Garr immediately pulled him back.
"No, no, no, let's take the bus!" Garr's brow furrowed with caution and careful thought. "Think about it, what if we run into those Dementors? With more people, there are more targets, and it'll be easier for us to escape."
Lockhart retracted his hand, saying admiringly, "You're right, you always think things through."
The two walked to a nearby bus stop and waited in the cold wind for over ten minutes before finally seeing the belated bus arrive.
Lockhart rushed onto the bus first, only to find there were no seats available. He thought for a moment, then stood next to a middle-aged woman. When she looked over, Lockhart flashed his signature brilliant smile.
The Muggle woman gave him a critical look, as if he were insane, and shifted her body further into her seat, disdainfully averting her gaze.
Lockhart: "..."
He looked at his reflection in the bus window. His blond hair wasn't as radiant as before, and his once handsome face, due to the effects of magic, had slightly small eyes, a crooked nose, protruding teeth, and somewhat dark skin...
He had become disheveled and a bit ugly.
His smile was no longer charming... instead, it seemed lecherous.
Lockhart almost shed tears, deeply regretting not having properly studied Transfiguration in the past, which resulted in his current grotesque appearance.
He grumbled in a low voice to Trocar, "Blind, idiotic Muggle... If it were before, my fans could fill a whole street."
Garr, who had been jostled by him when getting on the bus, sneered and said, "It's a pity they all know your true colors now. You don't have any fans left!"
Lockhart's face turned green as he angrily accused him, "We're companions, how can you rub salt in my wounds like that?"
Garr snorted, "We're companions, and you're still fighting me for a mere seat?"
The two glared at each other with mutual disdain, then simultaneously turned their gazes away.
Not far away, Mabel, leaning against a seat, pulled her hood down further and looked at the dirty metal floor of the bus below her feet.
Dementors... Hogwarts... Muggles...
That's right, these two guys must be Wizards too.
Since escaping, Mabel hadn't encountered any Wizards. She didn't know if the Ministry of Magic had sent anyone to pursue her, nor did she know how Hailey and Luke were doing.
After spotting these two discussing Wizarding World topics at the hospital, Mabel instinctively followed them.
Even though they were Wizards, they were still working at a hospital and taking the bus, so their magical abilities probably weren't that great...
Mabel felt they likely posed no threat, but to be cautious, she only followed them from a distance, making sure they didn't see her face.
The bus swayed to a stop, and Lockhart and Garr, who had been standing the whole way, finally got off.
Just as the bus doors were about to close, Mabel quickly jumped off too.
Lockhart and Garr had quickly become wanted criminals, but they still maintained the typical Wizarding disregard for Muggles. They didn't even notice the little girl behind them.
The street was very quiet.
As they got off the bus, Lockhart saw the hem of his companion's clothes flapping open, and both of his pants pockets were bulging. Something clicked, and his face went pale.
Lockhart hurried two steps, catching up to Garr, grabbed his arm, and asked, "Did you steal blood bags from the hospital again?"
Garr immediately covered his pockets, his gaze flickering, and said guiltily, "These were expired blood, supposed to be disposed of! I just gave them a different method of disposal..."
"You're going to get us exposed!" Lockhart said, both angry and scared.
"No, some Muggles steal blood too..." Garr weakly argued, then immediately became indignant. "You eat every day, so why should I starve?"
"Don't try to argue! You can clearly eat normal food too!" Lockhart said. "Besides, your uncle bought you live chickens!"
"How much chicken blood is that for anyone to eat? I'm dying for human blood." Garr licked his lips, then suddenly looked at Lockhart. "To avoid exposure, why don't you let me drink some of your blood?"
Lockhart immediately recoiled several steps, covered his neck, and shouted, "Don't even think about it!"
"Alright... alright... don't be so dramatic," Garr said. "I was just joking."
Lockhart huffed, but after two seconds, the two were walking together again.
He needed Garr's extensive experience navigating society, and his current residence was also at Garr's uncle's house. At the same time, Garr needed his magic to cover their tracks and avoid being found by the Ministry of Magic.
If they hadn't consistently helped each other, they wouldn't have been able to evade capture for so long and still live relatively normal lives.
The two quickly arrived home. Upon entering, they saw Garr's uncle, Ryan Trocar, sitting in front of the fireplace, holding a letter, his face full of worry.
"Uncle Ryan, what happened?" Garr asked nervously. "Is the Ministry of Magic sending someone to search?"
"Foolish child, if the Ministry of Magic were going to send someone to search, why would they send a letter in advance to inform us?"
Ryan Trocar said helplessly, "Besides, the last time I contacted your father was over a decade ago. They wouldn't think you'd be hiding here—this is a letter from Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts?" Lockhart, who was changing clothes by the door, turned around in alarm and asked, "Have we been discovered by Dumbledore??"
Ryan Trocar: "..."
How did these two cowards manage to break out of Azkaban?
The world truly is amazing.
"Dumbledore isn't as omniscient as you think," Ryan Trocar said. "He just invited me to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts."
Lockhart's face subtly twisted. "That class is getting a new professor again?"
"Yeah, the previous professor supposedly had some family matters, and resigned to Dumbledore right after the holidays ended," Ryan Trocar sighed.
"Resigned?" Lockhart was stunned. "Just resigned? Didn't die? And didn't go to prison?"
"Of course not." Ryan Trocar gave him a strange look. "That professor didn't do anything bad, and I heard he did pretty well at his job... If it's just being a professor, why would he go to prison?"
"Listen to me, Uncle Ryan!" Garr said seriously. "That class at Hogwarts is cursed. No one has ever lasted more than a year, and now they've had three professors in just two years! The curse must have gotten stronger, you absolutely can't go!"
Lockhart nodded silently, feeling a pang of bitterness—Yes, if only I had known this earlier, I wouldn't have gone from being a world-renowned bestselling author to a fugitive living day to day.
"I'm not too bothered by curses or anything. Many professors, like Professor Abigail, left their positions safely after working for a year."
Ryan Trocar said calmly, "As long as I work hard, don't break the law, and don't harm others, the Ministry of Magic can't just throw me in prison for no reason."
Lockhart clutched his chest and silently sat on the sofa, feeling like he'd been shot with several arrows.
He didn't want to say another word.
Garr was silent for a moment, then asked, "Uncle Ryan, do you want to go?"
Ryan Trocar sighed and said, "You know, as a Vampire, such an opportunity is very rare... Only Dumbledore would hire someone like me to be a professor without considering my identity."
He looked around his house—the TV, the carpet, the fireplace, the oven in the kitchen, the coffee machine, and the humming refrigerator.
The Daily Prophet on the dining table was the only object in the room that had a connection to the Wizarding World.
Ryan Trocar said, "Garr, Muggle life is good, but... I don't want to be too far from that world."
Garr asked, confused, "Since you want to go... why are you still worried?"
"If it were the old Hogwarts, I would have accepted the invitation without hesitation. But..."
Ryan Trocar sighed, "I heard Dumbledore is training a large army at the school, preparing to unseat Fudge—getting involved in such a conflict, I don't know what consequences it would bring—so I'm still hesitating."
Lockhart was drinking tea and almost spat it out when he heard that.
"Does Dumbledore need to train an army to unseat Fudge?" he asked, astonished.
He was genuinely asking the question, but Ryan Trocar heard the answer.
"Oh, right... you're right... Dumbledore doesn't need to at all."
Ryan Trocar looked at the letter again, finally making up his mind. "I'm going to write back to Dumbledore now—there's pizza in the oven, help yourselves."
Ryan Trocar hurried upstairs to his study. After watching his back disappear up the stairs, Garr pulled out a blood bag he'd stolen from the hospital from his pocket, bit open a corner, and carefully sipped from it.
He wouldn't dare let his uncle see him drinking human blood, or he'd definitely get scolded.
Lockhart went to get the pizza himself, placed it on the table, set out the cutlery, tucked in a napkin, and was about to eat dinner while reading the newspaper, when he realized the stack of Daily Prophet newspapers on the table was gone.
"Garr, did you take all the newspapers?" Lockhart asked.
"What?"
Garr, who was secretly hiding the remaining blood bag, didn't hear clearly and asked, confused.
"The newspapers! The newspapers are gone!" Lockhart said.
"I didn't take them... go ask Uncle Ryan!" Garr said.
"Never mind then..." Lockhart said dejectedly, turning to switch on the TV.
A photo of a girl with thin cheeks and cold eyes appeared on the screen.
The news anchor was introducing the girl on the screen—
"It is reported that Mabel Roland, who has murdered multiple adults, is currently on the run in Britain. This teenager is extremely dangerous; do not approach... Anyone who can provide valuable information to assist the authorities in apprehending Mabel Roland will receive a reward of one thousand pounds..."
"She's killed so many people at such a young age," Lockhart murmured. "Truly terrifying..."
...
The terrifying teenager was currently sitting cross-legged in the Trocar family's attic.
She didn't dare to turn on the light. Using the faint glow of the streetlamp outside the window, she read the contents of the newspaper word by word.
There were many unfamiliar words, and Mabel read with great difficulty. She read and guessed, going through all the recent newspapers.
Not a single report mentioned Hailey or the other children's names, but she saw Rita Skeeter in the corner of the news.
Could I find Rita Skeeter to inquire about information?
But Mabel didn't know where the newspaper's editorial office was... and besides, reporters weren't always at the newspaper office.
Mabel's finger traced line after line on the newspaper, finally stopping on another familiar name.
[Shocking Release! Genius Alchemist Wade Gray's Latest Creation—The Communication Pea, Bringing You a New Realm of Communication!]
[Say goodbye to cumbersome handwritten letters and expensive Two-Way Mirrors! The Communication Pea allows you to easily maintain close contact with anyone, anytime, anywhere! Even across thousands of miles, direct communication is possible!]
[Lightweight and portable body, sleek and beautiful design, multiple trendy colors, stable and efficient connection! This is a groundbreaking product, a bridge to future living!]
To celebrate the launch of new products, Aslan's Magic Workshop is offering a special limited-time discount! First come, first served!
How to purchase: Starting December 23rd, Communication Peas will be available simultaneously in fifteen countries! Consumers can purchase them at the following locations—London, Britain: Aslan's Magic Workshop, 118 Diagon Alley; New York, America…
…
Wade sat in the Wardrobe Space, creating a new Magic Golem.
Under the effects of Transfiguration, the clay flowed, rolling upwards from bottom to top, gradually forming a short figure—
Sparse, yellowish hair, not too much of it, clung to its scalp, making it look disheveled. Its eyes were sunken, its skin pale. Although it was still an inanimate object, its round eyes seemed like they could roll around at any moment.
It had a hunched back and wore clothes like a tattered sack, resembling a street vagrant, or perhaps a large, bipedal rat.
Wade tapped it with his Wand, making its nose turn slightly upward, then nodded.
This was pretty much how he remembered it…
"Ding-a-ling… Master, you have a visitor."
The golden bell hanging on the wall chimed a few times and spoke.
Wade stopped making the Magic Golem, put away the Wardrobe Space, and went downstairs.
At that moment, Harry, having heard the doorbell, had already opened the door and exclaimed in surprise, "Remus!"
Remus Lupin, dusty from travel, stood at the doorway with a suitcase, smiling at them.
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