For a moment, Lockhart thought he'd seen heaven.
No... given his record on Earth... he'd probably be going to hell...
Just as both men were about to pass out, the restraint around their necks loosened slightly. Garr gasped for air, and through blurry eyes, he glanced at the little girl.
Her white eyes were cold and eerie, and the black mist still writhed menacingly, showing no signs of weakness or fatigue.
Garr immediately abandoned any thought of fighting back. He slickly dropped to his knees, raising his hands, while subtly kicking Lockhart twice.
Lockhart: "..."
He struggled for a moment, then, seeing those strange eyes turn to him, immediately knelt without hesitation.
"Mercy, Miss Mabel!"
Garr didn't dare shout loudly, pleading in a strained, careful voice, "We're no threat to you at all! And we absolutely wouldn't dare report you to the Ministry of Magic, please, have mercy on us!"
Mabel: "You know me?"
"Of course! I'm not like my uncle, who can't recognize faces..." Garr said.
The little girl tilted her head, watching them, but said nothing.
Lockhart had a flash of inspiration. Pointing to the top of the bookshelf, he said, "The very top... the third newspaper from the right on the top shelf, take it down and you'll understand."
A wisp of black mist extended like an octopus tentacle, pulling out the newspaper and unfurling it before Mabel.
Three black and white photos were starkly displayed. Two of the people in them were currently kneeling on the floor.
Garr whispered, "We're both escapees from Azkaban. If the Ministry of Magic catches us... sigh... they'll definitely let a Dementor give us a kiss..."
"A kiss?" Mabel asked, puzzled.
"It's worse than death," Lockhart said fearfully. "Dementors suck out a person's soul, leaving only an empty, unconscious shell."
"So please rest assured, there's no way we'd report you to the Ministry of Magic. We want to see the Ministry even less than you do," Garr added. "If you need... need any help, I can also... uh..."
He wanted to sound more impressive, but he was afraid Mabel might need them to die, or do something dangerous, so he stuttered, unable to finish his sentence.
The black mist receded.
Mabel asked, "I want to contact someone. Do you have any way to do that?"
Lockhart and Garr exchanged a glance, then asked curiously, "This... couldn't you just send a letter?"
"But I only know he goes to Hogwarts; I don't know the exact address," Mabel said.
Garr understood. This girl had probably grown up in the Muggle world and didn't understand the wonders of magic.
But the threat of death hadn't passed, so he didn't dare mock her. He simply knelt on the ground and honestly said:
"Owls don't need to know an address. They can deliver your letter—as long as the person's residence isn't protected by a repelling charm."
"Who do you want to contact?" Lockhart also actively tried to demonstrate his value. "This... I used to be a professor at Hogwarts. Perhaps I can offer you some help..."
"—You? A professor?"
Mabel looked at the wizard, who had knelt so readily, in surprise. She frowned and asked, "Are you lying to me?!"
Seeing her tone turn dangerous, Garr quickly said, "It's true, he really was a professor! Although he was later sent to prison for fraud and trickery... but if the person you're looking for is at Hogwarts, he probably knows them."
Lockhart nodded vigorously, not daring to mention that when he was at school, he didn't pay much attention to the unremarkable students—especially the boys—and he hadn't bothered to get acquainted with most of the reclusive professors.
Mabel looked at him suspiciously for a moment, then asked, "Wade Gray... do you know him?"
...
Wade was in his Wardrobe Space, pondering Christmas gifts.
Well... he had originally planned to give everyone a Communication Pea; it was simple and convenient.
Aslan's Magic Workshop had sent him a box of samples. Roughly calculated, he'd still have two left after giving them out.
But Michael was right. Regardless of whether these items were worthless to Wade, they were extremely valuable to others.
If every gift he gave was worth dozens or hundreds of Galleons, while others could only give him a book or a box of candy, even if Wade himself didn't care, the other person, and even their family, would feel immense pressure.
If Wade's goal was to gather a few subservient followers, giving them more benefits wouldn't be a problem, but that wasn't how you treated friends.
In that case, time was too tight... Fortunately, his Transfiguration skills were quite good.
Moreover, Wade had tested it before: using magic within the Wardrobe Space, perhaps because it was an independent magical space, created a shielding effect similar to a Faraday cage, thus not triggering the Ministry of Magic's Trace warning.
Wade checked the time, feeling he still had enough. With a light tap of his Wand on the adjacent magical materials, a small broom began to form...
...
"Ding-a-ling-ling..."
Wade was woken by a loud alarm. He shot up into a sitting position and saw a pile of gift boxes next to him.
He remembered that the task he'd set for himself was complete. He yawned, tears of sleepiness welling in the corners of his eyes.
The Magic Golem packing gift boxes beside him was something Wade had made during his holiday. It looked short and stout, like a Rubik's Cube. Each small square composing its body concealed at least one tool, and it could move back and forth, up and down, just like a Rubik's Cube.
While its appearance wasn't particularly endearing, it was incredibly versatile and could do the work of ten.
At this moment, the Rubik's Cube Magic Golem extended two mechanical claws to pack the last gift box. Its circular eyes, spinning on its head, turned to Wade and asked considerately, "Did Master have a nightmare?"
"No, I just didn't get enough sleep."
Wade deeply missed his Time-Turner at that moment. He stepped over the gift boxes on the floor and quickly went to wash up. He hadn't even finished changing when he heard Michael knocking on the door.
"Hurry up, Wade! We're going to the mall after breakfast!"
"Coming!"
Wade called back, then heard Michael and Harry thudding down the stairs.
Just by the sound of their footsteps, he knew how impatient they were.
It made sense; even a small village like Hogsmeade was appealing to students, let alone a large mall in London.
Wade changed his clothes and was about to put away his Wardrobe Space when he saw the half-sorted gift boxes.
Considering they were only going shopping, and he couldn't just stuff purchased items into a bottomless backpack in front of Muggles, Wade decided against bringing his Wardrobe Space.
"Following the list I made earlier, please send all the gifts for me before dinner," Wade told the Magic Golem. "Don't forget to pack the snacks Coco made."
"Understood," the Golem said in a muffled voice. Seeing Wade yawn again as he was about to leave, it suddenly asked, "Why does Master have to make things himself? Isn't it easier to just buy gifts, like everyone else?"
Wade was surprised it would ask a question beyond simply obeying orders, then his attention shifted to its question.
"Hmm... probably because I'm looking forward to the incredibly surprised smiles they'll have when they receive their gifts, right?"
He thought for a moment, then said with a smile.
"That kind of satisfaction can't be replaced by bought gifts."
...
Wade hadn't fully understood it before—in his previous life, every winter, his mother always loved to knit him sweaters, scarves, hats, and mittens by hand.
He didn't understand why; these things didn't cost much to buy directly, had more variety, finer stitching, and weren't any worse than handmade ones. Why bother spending the time and effort to knit them herself?
It wasn't until later, when he took a pottery class and personally fired a pair of teacups for his parents, that he suddenly understood that feeling.
Preparing a gift for loved ones, anticipating their joy upon receiving it, makes every second of preparation blissful.
This isn't a one-sided process of giving or receiving; the giver themselves also gain joy and satisfaction.
—Of course, if a carefully made gift isn't cherished, the disappointment is doubled.
When Wade prepared gifts before, he focused on practicality, ensuring that even if he was somewhat perfunctory, the recipient would still be happy to receive his gift.
But this time, touched by Michael's words, he meticulously prepared each gift and once again experienced that expectant and joyful feeling of giving.
For most of the night, despite his nerves screaming for rest, his mood was too excited to stop until he finished all his work.
He entrusted the final mailing to the Magic Golem. The owls were already booked and would arrive on their own later.
Wade rubbed his eyes and confidently headed out for breakfast.
...
Most boys aren't as enthusiastic about shopping malls as girls, especially when prices exceed their expectations.
Harry's aunt was always thrifty, and while Harry didn't have a very clear concept of money—even though he had a vault full of Galleons—the thought of having to live off that money for the next four years of school, and knowing he wouldn't have a high income right after graduation... Harry didn't dare spend money recklessly on luxuries.
Michael's allowance was only slightly more than average, but when it came to disposable income, he had less than Harry.
The group wandered around Harrods for a while, bought nothing, and then tacitly moved on to a nearby budget supermarket.
This time, the prices were much more reasonable. Most of the items they liked were under two pounds, and buying a bunch wouldn't hurt their wallets. Each of them pushed a shopping cart towards their preferred sections.
Wade bought a few boxes of fruit, then looked at the meat section nearby.
Roast turkey was essential for Christmas Eve, and even though Fiona spent an entire day smoking and marinating it every year, the turkey's taste was still indescribable.
Every year around this time, Wade would ponder how to convince his parents to switch from roast turkey to roast chicken, or even roast duck...
But they always said, Christmas wasn't complete without turkey.
Wade was holding a box of steak, looking down at the label, when a bald old man pushing a cart passed by him. Wade stepped aside.
A supermarket employee pushed a small cart, passing behind both of them. The boxes on the cart were stacked high, almost reaching the ceiling, filled with pre-processed turkeys ready to be put on shelves.
As the cart passed, the previously wide aisle immediately narrowed. Wade instinctively stepped aside again, looking at the roasted chicken pictured on the cardboard box, and yawned once more.
He heard a hoarse voice beside him—
"Didn't sleep well last night?"
Wade's consciousness suddenly blurred, and his body involuntarily slid downwards. A withered, bony hand supported his arm.
"Get some rest," the person said.
...
As the cart passed, the bald old man casually clapped the boy on the shoulder. The previously listless boy immediately stumbled forward.
Before he could fall, the old man caught him and poured a bottle of Potions down his throat.
The tall, slender figure instantly shrunk, vanishing from the spot in the blink of an eye, leaving only a few pieces of clothing behind.
The old man's branch-like fingers tapped the pile of clothes, and they too shrunk in an instant.
On the floor lay a palm-sized, unconscious little person, looking like an exquisite Magic Golem.
The old man bent down, picked up the small figure from the ground, tucked it into his pocket, then hunched over and shuffled towards the checkout.
Just two or three seconds later, a cart piled high with boxes rattled past, leaving behind only a shopping cart with a few boxes of fruit.
This happened incredibly fast. Neither Harry and Michael, who were selecting items a few feet away at a display, nor Lupin, who was just looking but not buying due to his meager funds, nor the mall security guards, sales clerks, or nearby shoppers noticed a thing.
Only the staff member, who was about to put turkeys on the shelf but found most of the boxes on his cart empty, paused for a long moment. He then scratched his head, assuming he was just too busy and confused.
The bald old man didn't buy much. He quickly paid and left the supermarket. A black sedan waited outside the door, and the car door immediately opened as he approached.
The old man got in and sat down. As the car door closed, his appearance also changed—
His face was as gaunt as a skull, his eyes deeply sunken, his body frail. Yet, his eyes still burned brightly, as if he were still young, filled with the fervor of idealism, though the deep lines on his face spoke of indifference.
This old man was none other than the Dark Wizard who had made all of Europe tremble—Grindelwald!
He had escaped much earlier than the news from Nurmengard suggested.
The driver immediately started the car. The person in the passenger seat eagerly turned around and asked, "Sir, did you... succeed?"
Grindelwald coughed as he pulled the unconscious young Wizard from his pocket.
The passenger's face immediately lit up with joy. "You truly are amazing! Many people have been after this boy, but none have succeeded!"
"I merely took advantage of Dumbledore being preoccupied and bullied a child. There's nothing to be proud of."
Grindelwald said indifferently, but he didn't hand the young Wizard to the passenger. Instead, he put him back into his own pocket.
"I hope the value this boy brings me matches the risk I took for him."
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