Snape glanced to the side -- down at Nill with black, beady eyes that gave no clue to how he felt about the display, or her disturbance. She was a small, frail thing and Albus, he was sure, would have adored her and showered her with sweets.

Snape could only look at her impassively, and say, "I won't be long."

The mirror was carefully wrapped in a conjured cloth, and the other items he'd had, with names and notes scribbled on them, were tucked into a messenger bag and then slung back over his shoulder.

A curt nod to Nill; as silent as she is-- then he was striding down the pews-- on the OTHER side of them, as not to bring himself in Sirius Black's reach. He trusted the man about as far as he could throw him with his bare hands.