For a moment, Lockhart thought he'd seen Heaven.
No... according to his record in the Human World... perhaps he'd end up in Hell...
As the two were about to roll their eyes back, the shackle around their neck loosened slightly, and Gall struggled to suck fresh air into his chest, hazily glancing at the little girl.
Her white eyes were cold and eerie, the black mist still clawing wildly, showing no signs of exhaustion or leniency.
Gall immediately abandoned the idea of resistance, quickly kneeling on the ground and raising both hands, while sneakily giving Lockhart a kick or two.
Lockhart: "..."
He struggled briefly and, seeing those strange eyes turning towards him, quickly knelt down without hesitation.
"Spare us, Miss Mabel!"
Gall dared not shout loudly, pleading in the gentlest tone he could muster: "We pose no threat to you at all! We definitely wouldn't dare report you to the Ministry of Magic, I beg you, spare us!"
Mabel: "You know me?"
"Of course, I'm not face-blind like my uncle..." Gall said.
The little girl tilted her head, looking at them without speaking.
Lockhart had a flash of inspiration and pointed his finger at the top of the bookshelf, saying, "The top... the top layer, third newspaper from the right, take a look and you'll understand."
A wisp of black mist stretched over like octopus tentacles, pulling out that newspaper and unfurling it in front of Mabel.
Three black-and-white photos were prominently displayed; the two individuals were now indeed kneeling on the floor.
Gall whispered, "We're escapees from Azkaban, if the Ministry of Magic catches us... alas... they'll surely have the Dementors give us a kiss..."
"A kiss?" Mabel questioned.
"It's worse than death," Lockhart said fearfully, "Dementors suck out a person's soul, leaving only an empty shell without consciousness."
"So, rest assured, we cannot possibly report you to the Ministry of Magic, we want to avoid them even more than you do," Gall added, "If you need... need any help, I can also... uh..."
He wanted to sound more generous, but worried Mabel would ask them to die or do something dangerous, causing him to stammer without speaking clearly.
The black mist rolled back.
Mabel asked, "I want to contact someone, do you have a way?"
Lockhart and Gall exchanged a look, puzzled, "This... can't you just send a letter?"
"But I only know he's studying at Hogwarts, I don't know the exact address," Mabel said.
Gall understood; the girl probably grew up in the Muggle society, not understanding the wonders of magic.
Yet the threat of death hadn't lifted, and he dared not mock her, merely knelt honestly and said:
"An owl doesn't need to know the address; they can deliver the letter for you—as long as the person's residence isn't protected by a Repelling Curse."
"Who do you want to contact?" Lockhart proactively offered his assistance, "This... I used to be a professor at Hogwarts, perhaps I can provide some aid..."
"—You? Professor?"
Mabel looked surprised at this neatly-kneeling wizard, frowned, and asked, "Are you lying to me?!"
Seeing her tone growing dangerous, Gall quickly said, "It's true, he really was a professor! Although later jailed for scamming... but if the person you're looking for is at Hogwarts, he probably knows them."
Lockhart nodded vigorously, not daring to admit he paid little attention to the ordinary students—especially the boys—and hadn't really put in effort to know most secluded professors.
Mabel eyed him with skepticism for a while, then asked, "Vid Gray... do you know him?"
...
Vid was pondering Christmas gifts in his wardrobe space.
Well... he did originally plan to give everyone a Communication Pea, simple and convenient.
Aslan Magic Workshop had sent him a box of samples; once distributed, there would still be two left.
But Michael was right; no matter how worthless these items were to Vid, to others they appeared incredibly valuable.
If each time he gifted others items worth dozens or hundreds of Galleons, while they could only offer him a book or a box of candy, even if Vid himself didn't mind, the others and even their families would feel immense pressure.
If Vid intended to gather a few subordinates who obeyed his every command, giving more would be fine, but when treating friends, this approach wasn't suitable.
In that case, the time seemed too tight... luckily his Transfiguration Technique was quite good.
Moreover, Vid had experimented earlier; using magic in the wardrobe space, perhaps due to its independent magical nature forming a shielding effect akin to a Faraday cage, wouldn't trigger Ministry of Magic's Trace warning.
Vid checked the time, felt it was still early, and lightly tapped his magic wand at the nearby magic materials, forming a small broom...
...
"Ding-dong-dong..."
Vid was jolted awake by a loud alarm, quickly sat up, and saw the pile of gift boxes beside him.
He remembered that he'd completed the task he'd left for himself, yawned, with eyes brimming with sleepy tears.
The packaging next to him was done by the Poppet Vid made during his days off. It looked short and chubby, like a cube, each little cube of its body housed at least one tool and could move back and forth like a cube.