For a moment, Lockhart thought he was already seeing heaven.
No… judging by my record on Earth… maybe I am heading to hell…
Just as the two of them were about to roll their eyes back in unconsciousness, the grip around their necks loosened a bit. Gale gasped and greedily pulled fresh air into his lungs, squinting at the little girl.
Her white eyes were cold and eerie, and the dark mist was still clawing and writhing around her—not showing the slightest sign of exhaustion or mercy.
Gale immediately abandoned any thought of resistance. He dropped to his knees and raised both hands high in surrender, while secretly nudging Lockhart with his foot.
Lockhart: "…"
He struggled a bit, and when those strange, ghostly eyes turned toward him, he didn't hesitate—he dropped to his knees too.
"Have mercy, Miss Mabel!"
Gale didn't dare speak loudly. In a strained voice, he pleaded as gently as he could:
"We're no threat to you at all! We'd never even dream of reporting you to the Ministry. Please, we're begging you—spare us!"
Mabel: "You know who I am?"
Gale: "Of course! I'm not face-blind like my uncle…"
The little girl tilted her head and looked at them silently.
Then Lockhart suddenly had a lightbulb moment. He pointed at the bookshelf and said:
"Top shelf… third newspaper from the right… just take a look and you'll understand."
A tendril of dark mist snaked out like an octopus tentacle, plucking the newspaper off the shelf and opening it in front of Mabel.
Three black-and-white photos stared back at her—two of them were the exact men now kneeling on the floor.
Gale added quietly:
"We're both Azkaban escapees… if the Ministry catches us… sigh… they'll probably let the Dementors give us the Kiss…"
Mabel (confused): "The Kiss?"
Lockhart (terrified): "Worse than death. Dementors suck out your soul… leaving nothing but a lifeless husk."
Gale: "So trust us—we really don't want to see the Ministry. We're even more scared of them than you are. If you need… uh, any help, I can…"
He wanted to sound generous, but hesitated—afraid Mabel might ask them to die for her or do something insanely dangerous. So the sentence just fizzled out.
The Dark mist retracted.
Mabel asked: "I want to contact someone. Do you have a way to help with that?"
Lockhart and Gale exchanged a glance, then asked in confusion, "Well... can't you just send a letter?"
"But I only know he goes to school at Hogwarts. I don't know the exact address," Mabel said.
Gale understood then—this girl had probably grown up in the Muggle world and didn't understand the wonders of magic.
But with the threat of death still looming, he didn't dare laugh. He stayed obediently kneeling and explained earnestly:
"Owls don't need an address. They'll deliver the letter as long as the person's residence isn't protected by a Muggle-Repelling Charm."
"Who are you trying to contact?" Lockhart chimed in, eager to show his worth:
"I... used to be a professor at Hogwarts. Maybe I can help..."
"—You? A professor?"
Mabel looked skeptically at the man still kneeling so swiftly and gracefully. She frowned and asked coldly: "Are you lying to me?!"
Sensing the danger in her tone, Gale quickly interjected: "It's true! He really was a professor! Although he later went to prison for fraud and deception... but if the person you're looking for is at Hogwarts, he probably knows them."
Lockhart nodded vigorously, not daring to mention that during his time at the school, he paid little attention to average students—especially boys—and hadn't bothered to get to know most of the reclusive professors either.
Mabel stared at him suspiciously for a moment, then asked:
"Wade Grey... do you know him?"
…
Meanwhile, Wade was in the wardrobe space, pondering Christmas gifts.
Well… originally, he had planned to just give everyone a Communication Bean—simple and convenient.
Aslan Magical Workshop had sent him a box of samples, and with a rough estimate, he'd still have two left after distributing them.
But Michael was right. Even if these items meant little to Wade personally, they were extremely valuable to others.
If every time Wade gave gifts worth dozens or even hundreds of Galleons, and others could only afford to give him a book or a box of candy, then even if Wade didn't care, the recipient—or their family—would feel immense pressure.
If Wade's goal was to recruit a few blindly loyal followers, showering them with gifts wouldn't be a problem. But when it came to friends, that wasn't the right way to go.
Given that, time was tight… Luckily, his Transfiguration skills were solid.
Plus, Wade had experimented before—casting magic inside the wardrobe space didn't trigger the Ministry's trace detection.
Maybe because it was an independent magical space, so it acted like a Faraday cage, effectively shielding magical signatures.
Wade glanced at the time. It still felt early enough, so with a light tap of his wand on the magical materials nearby, a small broomstick began to take shape…
…
Riiing—
Wade was jolted awake by a loud alarm bell. He sat up abruptly and saw a pile of gift boxes beside him.
He remembered that he'd already completed the task he had assigned himself. Yawning, his eyes brimmed with sleepy tears.
Beside him was a magic doll that Wade had created over the holiday and it was helping him pack the gifts.
It was short and chubby, shaped like a Rubik's Cube. Each little cube of its body hid at least one tool, and the segments could rotate and shift like a real Rubik's Cube.
Although its appearance wasn't particularly charming, it was highly functional—one doll could do the work of ten.
At the moment, the cube doll was using two mechanical arms to pack the final gift box. Its round eyes spun atop its head as it looked at Wade and asked with concern:
"Master, did you have a nightmare?"
"No, just didn't sleep enough," Wade replied.
He was really starting to miss his Time-Turner.
Stepping over the gift boxes on the floor, he rushed to wash up. He hadn't even finished getting dressed when he heard Michael knock on the door.
"Hurry up, Wade! We're heading to the mall after breakfast!"
"Coming!" Wade replied, then heard Michael and Harry thundering down the stairs.
Just from the sound of their footsteps, it was obvious how excited they were.
And it made sense—if a small village like Hogsmeade could be so enticing to students, then a big mall in London would be irresistible.
Wade threw on his clothes and was just about to pack away his wardrobe space when he noticed the half-packed gift boxes.
Since they were only going shopping and couldn't exactly stuff everything into a bottomless bag in front of Muggles, Wade decided to leave the wardrobe space behind for now.
"According to the list I made earlier, send out all the gifts before dinner," he instructed the cube doll.
"Don't forget to pack the snacks Coco made, too."
"Understood," the doll said in a muffled voice. Just as Wade yawned again while heading for the door, it suddenly asked: "Why is Master making all these gifts by hand? Wouldn't it be easier to just buy them like everyone else?"
Wade hadn't expected it to ask a question outside its usual programmed obedience. He was surprised for a second, then his focus shifted to the question itself.
"Hmm… I guess it's because I'm hoping they'll show a truly surprised and happy smile when they receive the gifts," he said with a thoughtful smile.
"That kind of satisfaction is something store-bought gifts just can't replace."
…
Wade hadn't always understood this— In his past life, every winter, his mother loved knitting sweaters, scarves, hats, and gloves for him by hand.
He never understood it. Those things didn't cost much in stores, came in more styles, had finer stitching, and didn't seem inferior to handmade ones at all. Why go through all that trouble?
It wasn't until he took a pottery class and hand-crafted a pair of teacups for his parents that he suddenly understood that feeling.
Preparing gifts for the people you love, hoping they'll feel joy because of it— in that moment, every second spent preparing the gift becomes its own kind of happiness.
This isn't a one-sided act of giving or benefiting—the giver also experiences joy and fulfillment in the process.
—Of course, if a carefully made gift is not appreciated, the disappointment hits twice as hard.
In the past, when Wade prepared gifts, his main focus had been practicality. He made sure that even if he put in only minimal effort, the recipient would still be happy to receive something from him.
But this time, moved by what Michael had said, he prepared each gift with genuine care and once again felt that mix of joyful anticipation that comes from giving.
For most of the night, though his nerves screamed for rest, his excitement kept him going until every task was complete.
After leaving the final delivery instructions with the cube doll—having already scheduled the owl deliveries in advance—Wade rubbed his eyes and headed out to enjoy breakfast with peace of mind.
…
Most boys don't have quite the same enthusiasm for shopping as girls do—especially when the prices exceed their expectations.
Harry's aunt had always lived frugally, and though Harry himself didn't have a strong concept of money, he did have a vault full of Galleons.
Still, the idea that he had to stretch that money over four more years of school—and likely wouldn't start earning immediately after graduation—kept him from splurging on luxuries.
Michael's allowance was a bit more generous than most kids', but in terms of disposable wealth, even he was worse off than Harry.
After making a round through the upscale Harrods department store without buying anything, the boys wordlessly agreed to head for the nearby discount supermarket instead.
This time, the prices were far more reasonable. Most of the things they liked were under two pounds, so even buying a pile of them didn't cause too much pain. Each of them grabbed a shopping cart and headed off to their favorite section.
Wade picked out a few boxes of fruit, then glanced toward the meat section.
Christmas Eve wouldn't be complete without roast turkey. Even though Fiona spent a whole day every year marinating and roasting it, the end result was... hard to praise.
Every year around this time, Wade found himself wondering how to convince his parents to switch from roast turkey to roast chicken—or even duck.
But they always said, "It's not a proper Christmas without turkey."
Wade picked up a box of steak and was reading the label when an elderly bald man pushed a cart past him. Wade instinctively stepped aside.
A store employee passed behind the two of them, pushing a tall cart loaded with boxes—stacked so high they nearly touched the ceiling. Inside were prepped turkeys, ready to be shelved.
As the cart passed, the once-roomy aisle suddenly felt cramped. Wade reflexively turned his body sideways again. He glanced at a box illustrated with roast chicken and yawned.
Then, a raspy voice whispered in his ear—
"Didn't sleep well last night?"
Suddenly, Wade's mind went foggy. His body started sliding downward against his will— A thin, bony hand caught him by the arm.
"Get some sleep," the man said.
…
As the cart passed by, the bald old man casually patted the boy on the shoulder. The already weary-looking boy immediately collapsed forward.
Before he could hit the ground, the old man caught him and poured a potion into his mouth.
In an instant, the tall and lanky figure began to shrink. In the blink of an eye, he vanished from the spot—leaving behind only a pile of clothes.
With fingers like withered branches, the old man tapped the clothes, and they too shrank in the blink of an eye.
Lying on the floor now was a palm-sized, unconscious little figure, looking like a delicately crafted doll.
The old man bent down, picked up the tiny boy, stuffed him into his pocket, and hunched over as he slowly shuffled toward the checkout.
Within just a few seconds, the cart stacked with boxes clattered past, and the only thing left in the aisle was a shopping cart holding a few boxes of fruit.
It had all happened so quickly that no one noticed—
Not Harry or Michael browsing a few meters away,
Not Lupin, who was only window shopping because he was short on money,
Not the security guards, store clerks, or any nearby customers.
Only one staff member, who had been preparing to stock turkeys on the shelves, noticed that most of the boxes on his cart were empty.
He stood there dazed for a moment, scratched his head, and chalked it up to being overworked and scatterbrained.
The bald old man hadn't bought much, so he quickly paid and left the supermarket. A black sedan was already waiting outside, and the door opened as soon as he approached.
Once inside, and as the door shut, the man's appearance began to change—
His face became gaunt like a skull, eyes sunken deep, body became thin and frail. Yet his eyes still burned with intense fire, as if youth and idealism still coursed through him. But the deep lines on his face told another story—one of cold indifference.
This old man was none other than the dark wizard who once made all of Europe tremble—Gellert Grindelwald!
He had, in fact, broken out of prison long before the world caught wind of it.
The driver started the car immediately. The man in the front passenger seat couldn't hold back and turned around eagerly.
"Sir, did you… succeed?"
Grindelwald coughed lightly, then pulled the unconscious young wizard from his pocket.
The passenger's face lit up with joy. "As expected of you! So many people have been after this kid, and none of them managed it!"
"It was just a matter of taking advantage of Dumbledore being preoccupied and bullying a child. Nothing to be proud of," Grindelwald said coldly.
He didn't hand the boy over to the man in the front seat—instead, he slipped him back into his own pocket.
"I just hope this kid is worth the risk I took."
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⭐Harry Potter: Becoming a Study God (HP:BSG)- +235 Chapters
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