Chapter 2635 - Ch: 38-43

Chapter 38

"No more than four people per boat!"

Dozens of small boats were docked automatically at the shore.

The students began to form groups and boarded the boats one after another.

Jerry naturally got on a boat with Hannah and prevented others from joining them.

Harry Potter and Ron sat together, and as a member of the trio, Hermione naturally joined their boat as well.

It was as if the gears of fate had tightly locked together at this very moment.

The trio was formed.

As soon as the freshmen were seated,

the small boats seemed to come to life; without the need for oars, they automatically glided across the calm lake surface, heading toward the Castle on the opposite shore.

Just then, a strange Witch standing among the crowd on the shore lightly raised her hand toward the lake.

An almost invisible ripple of magic, like an unseen wall, enveloped the front of the entire freshman fleet.

"Alright, children!"

The Witch's voice, carried by magic, clearly reached the ears of every freshman with a hint of unquestionable authority: "The first trial, 'Aptitude,' begins now.

There is an invisible barrier before you. Only those with sufficient magical potential will be able to pass through on their boats. Those without potential will be left on this lake forever."

As soon as she finished speaking, the freshmen immediately became nervous and began whispering to each other. All the boats seemed to hit an invisible wall, stopping not far from the shore.

After a moment of silence, the boat in the very front row, as if pushed gently by an invisible hand, suddenly passed through the barrier and continued toward the Castle.

Then, a second boat, a third... more and more boats successfully passed through.

Hannah gripped the gunwale nervously, her palms sweating.

Jerry, however, looked calm; it was impossible for him to lack Aptitude.

It was also impossible for Hannah to lack it.

And indeed.

As the boats ahead quickly crossed the barrier, clearing a path,

their boat didn't hesitate for a second, smoothly passing through the barrier.

Hannah immediately let out a low cry of joy.

However, when they looked back, they found three or four boats left isolated in place. The children on board were pale, looking as if they were about to cry.

The Witch looked at the children left behind with an expressionless face and transmitted her voice through magic once more: "The trial is over.

Those who passed, please continue to the Castle.

Those who failed, Wizards will be sent shortly to take you back to the station."

The boats docked smoothly, mooring in a damp underground cavern.

Following the light of lanterns, the students stepped onto winding stone steps and headed upward.

After passing through a heavy oak door, they arrived in an astonishingly wide courtyard. Directly facing the courtyard was the entrance to a maze made of tall, dark green hedges. The entrance was pitch black, as if it could swallow all light.

The Witch who had announced the first trial appeared before them again, her expression still devoid of warmth.

"The second trial, 'The Maze of Will'.

What you need to do is very simple: walk into it and find the exit located at the center.

There will be some small challenges within the maze to test your courage and character.

Now, line up and enter one by one."

The excitement on most of the freshmen's faces was replaced by nervousness.

Hannah's face turned even paler, and she subconsciously grabbed Jerry's sleeve.

"Don't worry, follow me."

Jerry patted Hannah's hand reassuringly; it felt soft and warm.

He pulled her along, his arm feeling the slight, uncontrollable trembling of her body.

Hannah's gaze swept over the dark maze entrance, anxious and uneasy, as she walked in small steps close to Jerry.

As they entered the maze, the tall hedges immediately swallowed the light behind them, leaving only the shadowy paths ahead.

Hannah was stiff with fear from the sudden darkness and enclosed environment, her breathing becoming rapid and heavy. Physiological terror made her whole body shake.

She stumbled, leaning forward and pressing tightly against Jerry's back.

Her chest was pressed firmly against his back. Though separated by two layers of school robes, Jerry could clearly feel the soft and elastic presence.

Her small, slightly rounded curves were squeezed and rubbed against his back, each breath accompanied by a rhythmic, slow friction.

Hannah's cheeks flushed from nervousness and embarrassment. She gripped Jerry's arm tightly, her fingertips turning white from the force.

Her eyes darted around quickly; the high walls of the maze looked eerie and terrifying in the twilight.

Jerry could feel the tremors coming from Hannah's body.

He calmly moved forward through the winding maze, while Hannah followed closely behind him like a puppet pulled by a string, her chest gently moving and rubbing against Jerry's back with her steps.

Jerry could feel the inside of her legs occasionally brushing against the outside of his thighs as they moved.

Her arms tightly gripped his school robes, her body tense and never leaving his back, as if afraid that letting go for even a second would result in being completely swallowed by the darkness and the maze.

She pressed almost her entire weight onto his back, and her warm breath occasionally brushed against the back of his ear.

At first, it seemed like an ordinary maze to Jerry. Although there were many forks, they remained on the right path under Jerry's methodical memory and logical judgment.

However, after walking for about ten minutes, the surroundings began to undergo a bizarre transformation.

The temperature plummeted, and a thick mist rolled in, carrying a decayed dampness. Black slime began to ooze from the walls, and the air filled with faint, indistinct whispers.

Hannah couldn't make out what the voices were saying, but she felt they were full of malice, making her feel cold all over.

But Jerry heard them perfectly clearly.

"...The remnant of the House of Rosier..."

"...The Dark Lord's lackey..."

"...Filthy bloodline..."

The voices were like the curses of vengeful spirits, burrowing into his ears from all directions. Then, distorted and blurry faces appeared on the hedge walls, all staring at Jerry with hollow eyes, silently accusing him.

"Boring tricks!"

Jerry shielded Hannah and walked forward calmly.

His face was composed, and his eyes showed no fear, only a faint impatience.

Behind him, Hannah followed closely, almost pressing her entire self against his back, her chest rubbing against him softly yet clearly with every step.

The difficulties in the maze began to escalate.

The stone path ahead suddenly softened and cracked open, revealing a black swamp below that was bubbling and emitting a foul, rotting stench.

Hannah let out a cry, her body involuntarily tensing up.

She subconsciously gripped Jerry's sleeve, her nails digging into the fabric.

Jerry's pace didn't falter in the slightest; he simply stepped to the side, pulling Hannah along to avoid the sudden trap.

Above the swamp, a few wisps of foul-smelling black smoke swirled upward, as if mocking their predicament.

Next, the hedges on both sides came to life.

Thick vines with sharp thorns, like living whips, lashed out at Jerry.

The whistling of the wind accompanied the sound of thorns cutting through the air, every attack precisely aimed at Jerry's vital points.

Jerry's movements were concise and efficient. He ducked, dodged, and swerved, avoiding the lethal strikes by mere millimeters every time without a scratch. Hannah was shielded securely at his side; even her robes weren't snagged by the thorns.

She could only feel Jerry in front of her, his muscles tensing and relaxing with every dodge, possessing the fluid strength unique to a youth.

The tip of her nose occasionally brushed against the back of his neck, and the fresh scent mixed with earth and moisture actually gave her a sense of peace amidst the fear.

They stopped at a three-way junction where the mist was even thicker.

Just as Jerry was about to choose a direction, the hedges above suddenly parted, and a massive dark shadow descended from the sky, crashing heavily in front of them.

It was a python as thick as a tree trunk, covered in dark green scales that shimmered with an eerie luster in the mist.

Its scarlet tongue hissed, its long neck arched, and its triangular eyes coldly locked onto Jerry.

The snake's head reared up high, almost reaching Jerry's face, with green, glowing venom dripping from its two fangs.

The air was thick with a fishy, corrosive stench.

Hannah screamed in terror, her legs going weak behind Jerry as she clung to his clothes, her body shaking uncontrollably.

"Tsk." Jerry finally stopped, seemingly considering whether to take action directly.

"Oh my, quite a performance."

A playful, languid female voice suddenly came from the side.

A tall Witch with a curvaceous figure was leaning casually against a nearby hedge. She wore a scarlet Professor's robe with a daring cut and a very low neckline.

She wore exquisite smoky eye makeup, her lips were full and plump, and she held a long, slender lady's pipe between her fingers, watching the scene with great interest.

The moment she appeared, the fierce giant python vanished into a wisp of blue smoke.

She walked over with graceful steps, her high heels clicking sharply on the stone path.

She completely ignored the shivering Hannah, her flirtatious eyes fixed only on Jerry, as if she were admiring a rare and interesting collectible.

"They really prepared quite a gift for you, didn't they, little Mister Rosier?"

She blew a beautiful smoke ring and said with a light laugh.

Jerry met her gaze calmly without saying a word.

The Witch walked up to him, reached out a lace-gloved hand, and gently lifted his chin to examine his face closely.

"To be able to protect the little girl beside you without even flinching under mental pressure and magical traps specifically strengthened several times for you... hmm, very good."

She nodded with satisfaction, then let go and lazily pointed her pipe toward a direction deep within the maze.

"Alright, you've passed the second trial."

Her voice held a hint of playfulness: "Being courageous is one thing, but being bored in the face of illusions that would make an adult Wizard break down... that's quite another.

I'm starting to get interested in you, little junior.

Here, take this and go to the finish line."

A silver badge engraved with special runes was tossed into Jerry's hand. Simultaneously, the hedges ahead automatically parted to reveal a flat, moonlit path leading to the finish line.

Jerry caught the cold silver badge, feeling the complex patterns carved onto it.

He didn't leave immediately. Instead, he looked up to meet the Witch's intrigued gaze, and the corners of his mouth suddenly curled into a smile that was unbefitting of his age, carrying a hint of deviousness.

"A senior's trial must naturally be taken seriously."

He said softly, calling her "senior" with exceptional intimacy.

Then, his free hand reached into his Wizard robe pocket and felt around.

When he pulled his hand out, lying in his palm was not a magical tool, but an exquisitely crafted gold bracelet. The small gemstones embedded in it sparkled beautifully under the moonlight.

He took a step forward and very naturally took the Witch's lace-gloved hand, placing the gold bracelet into her palm.

"A small gift from a junior, please accept it."

The Witch raised an eyebrow slightly at his bold move, the playfulness in her eyes deepening.

At the moment Jerry leaned forward to hand her the bracelet, his gaze slid downward imperceptibly.

The Witch's daring scarlet robe had a high slit that opened as she moved. Now, because of her leaning posture, it revealed a patch of skin on her thigh and, deeper within the shadows of the robe, the edge of some black lace underwear.

Jerry's gaze lingered for only half a second before he withdrew it as if nothing had happened, his face still wearing that polite smile.

Feeling the valuable gift in her palm and having caught his glance, the Witch's smile was no longer languid; it blossomed, carrying a hint of genuine pleasure and approval.

She didn't refuse, simply stroking the bracelet with her gloved fingers before blowing Jerry a kiss.

"You are much more interesting than those little brats who can only tremble."

Chapter 39

Jerry gave her a slight bow, executing an impeccable aristocratic salute, then turned, pulled the still-dazed Hannah along, and walked without looking back onto the moonlit path.

Pulled by him, Hannah stumbled along behind, her mind in chaos, completely unable to understand what had just happened.

When they emerged from the maze exit, they found quite a few new students already standing outside.

Some had pale faces, clearly badly frightened, while others were cheerfully discussing their 'heroic' performances in the maze.

Seeing Jerry and Hannah emerge safely, the cold-faced Witch who had been in charge of the first test merely cast them a faint glance before directly looking away.

Hannah was pulled along by Jerry the whole way, not even knowing how she got out of the maze.

It wasn't until they finally walked out of the maze exit and into the crowd that her tense body relaxed slightly.

The surrounding light and noisy voices brought her back from extreme fear.

She leaned close to Jerry and, in a voice almost too soft for anyone else to hear, said with a crying tone and extreme shame, "Jerry... I... I was so scared just now... I... I wet my pants..."

Jerry's steps faltered.

He looked down and saw Hannah's face was red as if on fire, and her legs were unnaturally pressed together.

He didn't speak, just pulled her and subtly moved to the back of the line, a relatively shadowed corner.

"Stand still. Don't move."

Before Hannah could react, Jerry had already turned sideways, using his body to block most of the view from the front.

Then, he reached out and slipped his hand directly under the hem of Hannah's wide Wizard robe.

Jerry's hand was warm to Hannah, his fingers not long but very reassuring.

Under the robe was the school skirt. His palm pressed against Hannah's thigh and slid upward, easily lifting the thin skirt.

What his hand met was a smooth, delicate touch—the white thigh-high stockings Hannah was wearing.

Jerry's fingertips could clearly feel the wet patch on the stocking fabric, warm with moisture.

The wet area was not small, spreading from the top of the thigh downward.

Jerry's fingers traced along the edge of the wetness and continued upward, touching the edge of the clasp connecting the stocking top to the garter belt.

Hannah's body instantly stiffened, and a short, suppressed intake of breath escaped her lips. She dared not move, only allowed Jerry's hand to roam shamefully over her most private area.

That gentle flow of magical warmth concentrated at Jerry's fingertips.

His fingers were no longer aimlessly caressing but became more purposeful.

His middle finger, through the two thin layers of fabric, accurately found the softest depression in the center of that valley—the shallow slit representing Hannah's most private domain.

He followed that slit, using his fingertip to slowly, from bottom to top, gently brush across.

Hannah's inexperienced body trembled slightly, and her legs instinctively pressed tighter together, instead clamping his hand more firmly.

A suppressed, mosquito-like whimper escaped her lips.

"Jerry... no!"

Jerry's actions did not stop.

His thumb pressed on that slightly raised, still immature mound, circling and pressing with the pad.

His movements were light but carried an irresistible penetration.

The warm magic, with the movement of his fingers, precisely seeped into the most sensitive core area, dispelling the last traces of moisture while awakening a strange, tingling heat.

Jerry could even feel, through the clothes, that the place he repeatedly stroked seemed, due to his touch and the warmth of the magic, to begin secreting new moisture representing another emotion.

When he confirmed everything was dry, his middle fingertip pressed firmly but not heavily on the small protrusion at the very top.

Hannah's waist instantly went limp, and her body leaned lightly against him, almost unable to stand.

The whole process lasted about half a minute.

When Jerry withdrew his hand, Hannah's underwear and stockings were completely dry, even carrying a trace of warmth from the magic drying.

"All done."

Jerry's voice was still calm, as if he had just done a trivial thing.

Hannah's cheeks were still flushed, but her eyes had become somewhat dazed. She kept her head down, not daring to meet Jerry's eyes.

"Thank you... Jerry!"

"You're welcome. It was my duty."

They waited in the courtyard at the maze exit for about a quarter of an hour.

The Witch entered the maze.

After another ten-plus minutes, the cold-faced Witchreappeared.

Without any unnecessary words, she simply said, "Follow me," and led the group through a deep corridor to a more vast underground cavern.

This place was different from where the new students had first boarded the boat; it was more like a secluded dock.

magic crystals embedded in the cavern ceiling emitted a soft glow, illuminating the entire space like daylight.

Before them lay an endless underground lake. The water was incredibly clear, still like a huge black crystal, without a single ripple.

Dozens of small canoes, each barely big enough for one person, floated silently by the shore, as if waiting for their owners.

The Witch's voice echoed in the silent cavern, carrying a sense of final judgment.

"The third and final test: the 'Heart Lake.'"

"The lake water before you will reflect the deepest illusions of your heart."

"It may be your fears, or your desires."

"Your goal is to steer the boat and reach the glowing lighthouse on the opposite shore."

She raised her hand and pointed into the distance of the lake.

There, a faint but clear light flickered stubbornly.

"If your will is not strong enough, you will either be lost forever in the illusions or lose control of your mind, both of which will be judged as insufficient character, and you will lose your qualification for admission."

She paused, her cold gaze sweeping over every new student's face: "Most importantly: this time, you must board the boat alone."

"Any help or traveling together will be considered cheating and result in immediate elimination..."

The words "alone" fell like a stone into the already tense crowd, stirring up greater unease.

Hannah's face turned pale again in an instant.

She instinctively looked at Jerry beside her, her eyes full of pleading and fear.

With Jerry around before, no matter how terrifying the trap, she felt she could get through it.

But now, she had to face that unknown lake, which could reflect her heart, alone.

Jerry just looked back at her calmly, giving her a reassuring look, but said nothing more.

He knew this was a necessary means for Hogwarts to screen students' character, and also a hurdle Hannah had to cross on her own.

With the Witch's "Begin," the first boy in line took a deep breath and stepped tremblingly onto the first canoe.

The canoe moved without oars, slowly heading toward the center of the lake, soon disappearing from sight.

Soon it was Jerry's turn.

He calmly stepped onto a canoe.

The boat swayed slightly, then carried him silently onto the ink-jade-like lake surface.

The noise and firelight on the shore quickly faded away, leaving only the faint sound of the boat cutting through the water.

In the real world, the new students on the shore could only see Jerry's canoe moving steadily forward, with him standing quietly on it, eyes closed, as if asleep.

But in the eyes of the witches and ghosts hidden in the shadows of the cavern, observing everything through magical water mirrors, the scene was completely different.

They saw the water around Jerry's canoe begin to distort, rising in white mist.

In the mist, graceful figures slowly emerged and approached him.

First was the red-robed Witch. With each step, her waist and full hips swayed, exuding a mature charm.

She leaned over the bow, her open robe making the pair of full, black-lace-bound breasts on her chest almost jump out of their confinement.

With her breathing, the snowy peaks rose and fell slightly. Through the thin fabric, one could even imagine their astonishing elasticity and soft touch.

When she reached out a finger, with its polished nail, and lightly traced it across Jerry's chest, the cool, sharp sensation was followed by the pressure of her warm fingertip, a tingling feeling seeping through the skin.

Next, the cold-faced Witch leading the group appeared.

Her soaked dark robe clung to her body like a second skin, fully revealing her hidden, powerful, and graceful curves.

Water droplets slid down her firm inner thighs and disappeared into the lake.

When she knelt on the gunwale, the curve of her buttocks was rounded and perky under the fabric. As she reached up to undo the frog buttons, the wet lapels slid open, revealing not soft fat, but clearly defined, healthy, glowing tight skin and slightly raised abdominal muscles.

Finally, Hannah appeared on the right side of the boat.

Her school robe slipped off, revealing one round, delicate shoulder.

Her skin was that milky-white smoothness untouched by the sun, as if a pinch would leave a red mark.

She was still in early development, her chest only slightly raised into two cute little mounds, with two pink tips showing at the top.

She shyly wrapped her arms around herself, an action that instead made her immature chest more prominent. Her bare feet gently swayed in the water, and she exuded a sweet scent like an unripe fruit.

Biting her lip, she looked at Jerry with a mixture of shyness and longing.

In the illusion, Jerry opened his eyes.

He scanned the beautiful women surrounding him, both real and illusory, showing no sign of wavering or fear, but instead revealing a knowing smile.

He did not resist or indulge, but accepted it all calmly. He reached out, first pinching the red-robed Witch's finger offered to his lips, then pulled her into his arms.

At the same time, he unfastened the ties of his Wizardrobe and trousers.

Under the gaze of the witches and ghosts through the water mirror, a huge, throbbing meat root, contrasting sharply with Jerry's still-youthful teenage form, stood erect in the illusion.

It was full of vibrant life, the tip trembling slightly with excitement, oozing clear fluid.

The Jerry in the illusion made no extra moves, simply letting the women surround him.

The red-robed Witch knelt down and took the massive tip into her mouth.

The cold-faced Witch removed her clothes and straddled his lap.

Hannah shyly reached out and touched his firm abdomen.

"Gulp~"

"Gulp~"

Those two gulping swallowing sounds came clearly from between Jerry's legs.

Fiery red hair fell down, covering her face, but not hiding the up-and-down movement of her throat as she eagerly sucked.

She took that huge meat root to the deepest part, her warm, wet mouth tightly wrapping it, her tongue skillfully circling the shaft. Each swallow brought a strong sucking sensation.

At the same time, the cold-faced Witch straddling Jerry's lap trembled slightly.

She braced her hands on Jerry's shoulders, her straight back arching into a beautiful curve from the sensation below.

She bit her lower lip, as if enduring something, but her cold eyes were already misted over.

It seemed that as Jerry's huge member entered the red-haired Witch, it also fully entered her tight, warm body, stretching and filling her never-before-so-satisfied passage.

Jerry reached out and steadily grasped her rounded waist, then began to slowly lift her up and down.

Hannah's exclamation, accompanied by another effortful swallow from the red-robed Witch, seemed to be the last straw.

"Mm... ah..." The cold-faced Witch could no longer maintain her haughty demeanor, letting out a sweet moan.

Hannah's hand was still on Jerry's abdomen, and she could clearly feel his stomach muscles tightening and hardening from exertion.

Her cheeks burned hot, but her eyes involuntarily looked down, watching the astonishing scene.

She saw clear saliva at the corner of the red-robed Witch's mouth, and under the cold-faced Witch, a wet, muddy sheen.

"Want... to touch it?" Jerry's voice sounded in her ear, carrying a hypnotic magic.

His hand had somehow covered Hannah's, guiding her trembling little hand slowly downward, past the immature abdominal muscles, to the dense thicket.

Chapter 40

Finally, it stopped at the base of that massive shaft, the very place that was being tightly devoured by the cold Witch.

Hannah's fingers, just like that, touched that boiling hot, rock-hard...

...and violently throbbing base that pulsed with every thrust.

"So hard... so hot..."

"*Gulp!*"

Hannah's gasp of admiration, accompanied by the red-robed Witch's strained swallowing sound once more, seemed to become the straw that broke the camel's back.

Just then, Jerry let out a low, muffled groan from deep within his chest.

A boiling, thick torrent, with an unstoppable momentum, erupted from the tip of the massive shaft, fiercely and unreservedly pouring into the deepest depths of the red-robed Witch's body.

The volume of the liquid was so astonishing.

The red-robed Witch's belly swelled slightly with a visible curve, and she could clearly feel her throat being washed over again and again by the burning torrent.

The terrifying sensation of being filled, stretched, and even burst open instantly brought her to an unprecedented climax. Her eyes rolled back, her body twitched violently, and she could only make broken 'hegh... hegh...' sounds from her mouth.

But this was only the beginning.

The torrent was endless. After completely filling her body, it actually overflowed from the corners of her mouth, turning into a white fluid that trickled down her neck.

It flowed slowly past her neck, pooling into a small, milky-white lake in the deep cleavage of her chest.

And Hannah, whose small hand was still pressed against the base of Jerry's shaft, was the first to bear the brunt of it.

The warm, thick liquid splashed all over her hand, even trickling down her wrist and into her sleeve...

This water mirror, capable of peering into the illusions of the "Heart Lake," was not directly cast by the Professors; its existence relied on the abilities of several resident ghosts of Hogwarts.

The Grey Lady hovered to one side of the water mirror, her translucent fingers lightly tapping the mirror's surface to maintain the stability of the image.

It was her spiritual power that projected the candidates' deepest inner desires for the living to examine.

"The Grey Lady, are you sure... this is a true reflection of that child's heart?"

The Grey Lady did not look back, her ethereal voice echoing in the cavern: "The Heart Lake never lies; it only reflects what exists.

This boy... he did not resist; instead, he turned the illusion into his own playground."

The images in the water mirror continued, becoming increasingly explicit.

The red-haired Witch was being held by Jerry, letting out soft, fragmented groans with every thrust of the boy's hips.

Though Jerry's body looked slender, the strength of his hips and waist was astonishingly powerful. Every impact was deep and forceful, causing some of the invigilating witches to stare blankly, subconsciously swallowing their saliva.

"No... let me go... this is wrong..."

The illusion struggled, but her voice sounded completely drained of strength.

Faces of various styles pressed close to Jerry's thighs. The base of that massive shaft was right before her eyes, swinging powerfully with Jerry's movements, exuding a rich masculine scent.

"It's just a game!"

Jerry's voice was very soft, yet carried an irresistible magic, "Relax, you'll like it."

"Let him... pass!"

On the shore, the young invigilating Witch's face was so red it looked ready to bleed.

She unconsciously adjusted her posture, crossing her legs even tighter.

She could tell that although everything in the illusion was fake, the skill and control the boy displayed within it were reflections of his true nature—an innate talent for mastering the female body and desire.

The scenes in the illusion became clearer and increasingly scandalous.

In the water mirror of the witches and ghosts, Jerry's still-slender teenage body formed a stark contrast with the majestic object between his thighs.

No one knew who said it.

"The shameless descendant of Rosier."

While evoking resonance, it also made everyone look over involuntarily, only to find that the speaker's cheeks were flushed with an abnormal blush, her breathing somewhat hurried. She subconsciously squeezed her legs tight, yet her eyes remained glued to the vivid, sensual scenes in the water mirror.

But in reality, Jerry's small boat was getting closer and closer to the destination's lighthouse.

His body still stood perfectly straight, without any unnecessary movement.

Only the slight upward curve of his lips seemed to silently speak of how effortlessly at ease he was in that feast that no one could see.

Finally, the canoe carrying Jerry silently docked at the stone wharf beneath the lighthouse on the opposite shore.

Jerry stretched his somewhat stiff neck, hands, and feet, and only then slowly opened his eyes.

His eyes were as clear as ever, without a hint of the confusion or fatigue that comes after being deluded by illusions, as if he had really just closed his eyes to rest on the boat for a short while.

Stepping calmly onto the wharf, before him was a damp stone staircase extending upward.

At the end of the steps was a more spacious platform, where a dozen or so freshmen who had passed the trials were already gathered, naturally including the Harry Pottertrio.

They conversed in small groups in hushed tones, obviously feeling relieved and excited about successfully passing the final trial.

Jerry's appearance immediately drew the gaze of everyone on the platform.

However, as he walked up the steps unhurriedly, his figure fully exposed to the light of the magical torches, a platinum-haired freshman in the crowd suddenly seemed to recognize something and let out a suppressed gasp.

"Rosier... he's from the House of Rosier!"

This surname was like a pebble thrown into water, immediately causing a stir among the pure-blood students.

Whispers broke out everywhere, and the looks directed at Jerry instantly turned complex, mixed with fear, curiosity, and undisguised hostility.

Ron Weasley had clearly heard the discussions around him, and his freckled face was instantly filled with disgust and disdain.

He took a step forward, his voice neither too loud nor too soft, but enough for most people present to hear clearly.

"What?

So he's the remnant of a Dark Wizard!"

Ron's hostile words sounded exceptionally jarring on the platform, causing the original whispering to fall silent.

Almost at the same moment his words fell, Hermione Granger, standing beside him, changed expression. She immediately reached out and tugged hard on the sleeve of Ron's Wizard robes.

"Ron, don't talk nonsense!"

She lowered her voice, warning him in a hurried and tense tone.

Then, she carefully raised her head to look at Jerry, who stood calmly at the top of the steps.

Her gaze was highly complex, containing both apology for her friend's loose tongue, but even more so, a deep wariness and aloofness.

Obviously, in the time from boarding the Hogwarts Express until now, this "magical girl" from the Muggleworld, with her insatiable thirst for knowledge, had crammed a lot of common sense about the wizarding world through various means—whether from books or from conversations with children from other wizarding families.

And the notorious surname "Rosier," along with the history of the Dark Arts, Death Eaters, and followers of Lord Voldemort it represented, had clearly left a deeply profound and negative impression on her.

She looked at Jerry as if she were looking at a known hazard. Although she felt uneasy about Ron's recklessness, deep down, she had undoubtedly already classified Jerry—a boy-next-door she originally had a good impression of—into the category of people "to keep at a distance."

Chapter 21: Who Gives Underwear the First Time They Meet!

Jerry turned a blind eye to Hermione's complex gaze, and he didn't even spare Ron a second glance, as if that provocative remark had never existed.

He did not wait on the platform for any guiding Wizards, nor did he pay attention to the awe-struck or hostile gazes of the surrounding freshmen.

Under the astonished gazes of the crowd, he walked up the spiral stone steps leading to the upper levels of the Castleall by himself.

In the eyes of the other freshmen, this action was undoubtedly one of extreme arrogance.

They had just strained themselves to pass three trials and were now gathered obediently, terrified of being disqualified for any rule-breaking behavior.

Jerry's attitude of disregarding the rules immediately sparked strong dissatisfaction in many hearts, but in the end, no one dared to emulate him. They could only watch helplessly as his tall, straight back disappeared around the dim corner of the stairs.

Jerry didn't care about others' opinions. He walked up the stone steps unhurriedly, his footsteps echoing in the empty tower.

Just as he rounded a bend, a clear sound of footsteps belonging to an adult female came from above.

A moment later, a figure wearing dark green Professor's robes appeared in his line of sight.

Although Jerry did not recognize her.

But she was clearly coming down to guide the students who had passed the trials.

She wore the traditional dark green robes of Hogwarts, well-tailored, but unlike the loose, figure-hiding style of other Professors, hers seemed to have been meticulously altered. The waistline was cinched extremely tight, unreservedly outlining the waist-to-hip curves unique to a mature woman.

Beneath the robes was a pair of slender calves wrapped in black silk stockings.

Jerry's gaze unconsciously drifted downward, spotting the pair of black pointed high heels on her feet, which were somewhat aged but still polished to a shine.

The narrow space of the spiral staircase forced her to take small steps. With each step down, she had to turn slightly, a movement that caused the hem of her robes to sway, occasionally revealing a section of her shapely thigh through the slit. The black silk stockings extending over that skin exuded a quality both ascetic and seductive.

She didn't seem to expect to run into a student head-on here, a flash of surprise flitting across her eyes.

She looked at the boy below, who was raising his head and staring at her with burning eyes, his line of sight clearly fixed right up her skirt.

A rare blush quickly crept up her cold face. She instinctively pressed her legs together, but her eyes, which carried a trace of anger, softened subtly the moment they met Jerry's face.

"Does it look good?"

Her voice carried a trace of hard-to-detect teasing and suppressed laughter. The curve of her brows and eyes held a bit more cunning than usual, completely different from her typical stiffness when facing other students.

Jerry nodded without hesitation, a natural curve forming on his lips: "Very good."

As if pleased by this answer, the Witch chuckled softly, the sound like a cat purring in its throat.

Right before Jerry's eyes, her body began to blur, the edges of her dark green robes rippling in layers. In the next second, she instantly transformed into a tabby cat, landing lightly on the stairs.

Surprisingly, however, as her body shrank and transformed, the white cotton underwear she was wearing—printed with pale yellow cat paw prints—did not disappear with her. Instead, at the moment of transformation, it gently drifted down from the air in a spinning motion.

Jerry was quick-handed. He reached out and firmly caught the underwear, which carried a warm body temperature and a faint scent of soap, in his hand.

To the touch, it had the soft texture of cotton, with the small lace on the edges gently brushing against his fingertips.

He could even vaguely feel the lingering warmth of her body left within the fabric.

The instructor, now back in her feline form, elegantly circled around Jerry, gently brushing his calves with her fluffy tail as if rewarding him.

Then, completely beyond Jerry's expectations, she transformed back into human form once more amidst a cloud of white smoke.

She still wore the dark green robes, only this time, it felt completely empty between her legs. As she stepped downward, the slender and shapely lines of her legs could be vaguely seen beneath the hem, revealing a wild charm of a mature woman in their fleeting glimpses.

She brushed past Jerry, the fragrance of a mature woman wafting past his nose.

She turned her head, winking in Jerry's direction, a different kind of allure in her eyes.

"Alright, little guy, keep walking up.

Also, remember to call me Professor McGonagall next time!"

Her voice became even softer, as if her previous sternness and the transformation were just a little prank: "Go wait upstairs for everyone to enter the Great Hall together. As for that..." She cast a mischievous glance at the underwear Jerry was still holding, "...it's yours, little guy of the Rosier Family."

With that, she leisurely continued walking down, leaving Jerry standing there alone.

"So, she's McGonagall!"

(Sure enough... things like Family Prestige Points have an all-around buff...)

Jerry thought to himself.

Weighing the underwear in his hand, the curve of his lips deepened.

Jerry carefully tucked the soft underwear away, continuing upward with that meaningful curve on his lips.

When he stepped onto the very last step and arrived at the spacious Entrance Hall in front of the Great Hall, his vision suddenly opened up.

More older students were gathered here than below, in groups of three or five, wearing robes representing their respective house colors, either talking and laughing loudly or scrutinizing every incoming freshman with burning gazes.

This was one of Hogwarts' traditions: older students would "recruit" freshmen in advance at the entrance of the Great Hall, recommending their own houses to those talented or well-connected half-bloods and Muggle-born young Wizards, thereby exerting some influence before the Sorting Hat made its choice.

However, Jerry's appearance instantly shattered the originally lively but slightly noisy atmosphere in the Entrance Hall.

His identity as the "remnant of the Rosier Family" had clearly been learned in advance by those well-informed older students.

The whispers of the freshmen below turned into more direct and intense discussions here.

Those looks were no longer just curious or wary, but mixed with more complex emotions.

A few students had eyes filled with undisguised hatred.

Jerry could sense the strong emotional fluctuations in their memories—obviously, their family members might have died at the hands of Death Eaters during the wizarding war, or been harmed by followers of the Dark Arts Alliance.

For them, the surname "Rosier" was an indelible scar, a synonym for pain and betrayal.

But at the same time, in a corner of the crowd, several older Slytherin students wearing green robes nodded to Jerry with meaningful smiles on their lips.

Their eyes carried a kind of tacit understanding and scrutiny of their own kind, seemingly welcoming the boy who inherited the ancient bloodline in silence.

Chapter 41.

After all, the vast majority of pure-blood Wizard families, to a certain extent, had all been inextricably linked to the Dark Arts at one point or another.

Many of them had simply chosen to "switch sides" at the right moment, which prevented their names from being nailed to the pillar of shame, allowing them to enjoy the fruits of victory in the war.

Jerry walked through the crowd, which was interwoven with hostility and secretive scrutiny, without changing his expression. His gaze was calm, without a ripple, neither responding to those hateful stares nor paying attention to the meaningful smiles.

He simply walked straight toward the entrance of the Great Hall, the place where the crowd was densest.

There, a tall girl wearing Slytherin House robes was standing in the center of the crowd.

It was Catherine.

As a Prefect of the Slytherin House year group, she was undoubtedly the focus among the older students, currently performing her duty of recruiting new students as a matter of course.

However, her beautiful face currently wore a trace of obvious, forcibly suppressed impatience.

This was because a young man wearing Gryffindor robes was following closely by her side, like a buzzing fly.

The young man had slicked-back hair, his chin slightly raised, and was rambling on, boasting about his family's history and his "glorious" achievements on the Quidditchteam, trying to attract Catherine's attention.

"...So my father said, our Macmillan family and families like the Weasley family are completely different; we are the true Gryffindor..."

"This senior, we meet again!"

A clear, youthful voice, not loud, yet precisely interrupted the Gryffindor youth's rambling.

Jerry had arrived close by at some point, a polite and distant smile on his face. His gaze went straight over the young man, whose expression had instantly turned ugly, and landed on Catherine.

A flash of surprise passed through Catherine's icy eyes. When she saw that the person approaching was Jerry, that impatience quickly faded, replaced by a touch of amusement.

She parted her red lips slightly, her voice carrying a unique huskiness and teasing tone: "Oh? I don't recall us ever meeting, this... little junior from the House of Rosier?"

Catherine's words carried obvious mockery. She tilted her head slightly, her silver hair cascading down like a waterfall. Those ice-blue eyes scanned Jerry up and down, as if she were truly looking at a stranger, a freshman who didn't know the height of the sky or the depth of the earth.

This attitude of pretending not to know him immediately gave the Gryffindor youth beside her a chance. Seeing that Catherine didn't seem interested in the boy who had interrupted, he regained his confidence, an arrogant smile appearing on his face. He stepped forward, blocking Jerrywith a condescending posture.

"Hey, brat, didn't you see we were talking? This isn't the place for you; get lost back to the pile of new students."

He waved his hand as if shooing away an annoying fly.

However, Jerry didn't spare him even a glance. He seemed to have completely ignored the young man's words, walking straight past him and standing in front of Catherine once again.

His movements were fluid and natural, carrying an unquestionable sense of intimacy as he extended his right hand.

Before the crowd could be surprised by his boldness, they saw his palm open upward, with an exquisite silver ring lying quietly there. In the center of the ring was embedded a pigeon-blood red gemstone, which shimmered with a deep and bewitching luster under the light of the magictorches in the entrance hall.

"Beautiful senior!"

Jerry's voice was not loud, yet it clearly reached the ears of everyone present. His gaze remained locked on Catherine's face, carrying a composure and aggression that did not match his age: "I am particularly interested in Slytherin House; I wonder if you could introduce me to more about it? Of course, before that, I think this ring would suit you perfectly."

The completely ignored Gryffindor youth, Cormac Macmillan, had his face turn from white to red, and then from red to blue.

Jerry's words, that ring, and that intimate posture as if no one else was around, were blatant humiliation to him.

He felt the gazes of everyone around him pricking his body like needles, especially those of the Slytherin House, who made no effort to hide the ridicule on their faces.

"You damn little half-breed!"

Macmillan's anger finally exploded. His thick arm, belonging to a Quidditch Beater, shot out, not to push Jerry, but to viciously slap at the ring in Jerry's hand. He wanted to knock this "gift" and its owner's face onto the ground together.

However, his palm missed. Jerry seemed to have eyes in the back of his head; just before Macmillan's palm swung down, he nimbly flipped his wrist, not only avoiding the attack but also using the momentum to move half a step closer to Catherine.

From beginning to end, he did not look at Macmillan once, simply offering the ring to Catherine in a more inviting gesture.

"It seems this senior doesn't quite understand basic etiquette."

Jerry's voice remained calm, but the sarcasm in his words was as piercing as an ice pick. "Is this how the Macmillan family education allows its descendants to shout and be physical in front of a lady?"

"You dare mention my family?"

Macmillan was completely enraged, his face flushed, his chest heaving violently like an angry bull.

"A remnant of a Death Eater, a piece of Dark Wizard scum hiding in the gutter, what right do you have to stand here and talk to Catherine? People like you should be locked away in Azkaban!"

"Death Eater?"

Jerry finally turned his head, looking directly at Macmillan for the first time, but there was no anger in his eyes, only a pity and contempt like looking at a clown: "If I remember correctly, on the eve of Lord Voldemort's fall, many families swore allegiance. The Macmillan family... seemed to be among them, right? It's just that your ability to trim your sails is a bit more clever than that of the Rosier Family."

These words were like a sharp blade, precisely piercing through the unspoken facade of many pure-blood families present. Macmillan's face instantly turned ashen, because what Jerry said was the truth.

"You... you're spouting nonsense!"

He said, embarrassed and angry, actually drawing his wand directly, the tip pointing straight at Jerry's throat. "I want to duel you!"

The surrounding students were in an uproar. A seventh-year student challenging a first-year student who hadn't even enrolled yet to a duel was simply the biggest joke in the history of Hogwarts.

The playful smile on Catherine's face finally faded. Her icy gaze swept over Macmillan's hand holding the wand, and a hint of chill entered her voice: "Macmillan, put your wand away. Do you want to bring shame upon the entire house because of yourself?"

Scolded by Catherine, Macmillan seemed to just snap back to reality, but he was already riding a tiger and couldn't get off. He knew he had lost his composure, but he couldn't bear to be so humiliated in front of the woman he loved by a "Dark Wizard" boy.

He turned his head, looking at Catherine with a complex expression that was almost pleading, mixed with jealousy and anger, his voice trembling slightly from excitement. "Catherine! Tell me, how are you going to choose?"

He pointed at Jerry with his empty hand, then pointed at himself: "Are you going to choose this descendant of a dirty Death Eater who crawled out from who knows what gutter, or choose me, a righteous, glorious Gryffindor?"

Catherine's eyes slowly shifted away from Jerry, landing on the face of Cormac Macmillan, which was distorted by excitement.

There was no anger in her eyes, not even the slightest disgust. It was a pure gaze, as if looking at an incomprehensible, inferior creature, carrying a profound, almost clinical dissection-like pity. It was as if she were asking: How could anyone be this stupid?

Her hand slowly raised, her slender fingers tracing an elegant arc in the air. She did not draw her wand, nor did she make any aggressive movements, simply using her fingertips, painted with dark nail polish, to tap twice on the silver snake crest on her chest that represented Slytherin House.

This action was clearer and louder than any words. It silently declared: You are questioning me with that set of so-called "glory" and "light" of Gryffindor? Have you forgotten who I am?

Immediately after, under the gaze of Macmillan, which had instantly turned exceptionally ugly, Catherine turned her head, her gaze falling back onto Jerry.

The icy expression on her face melted, replaced by a bewitching and charming smile. She reached out, her movements without a hint of hesitation, and picked up the pigeon-blood ruby ring from Jerry's palm.

She didn't even admire it much before naturally slipping it onto her fair, slender ring finger. The size of the ring was a perfect fit. The red of the gemstone complemented the dark nail polish on her fingertips, appearing exceptionally bewitching and harmonious.

"As a seventh-year Prefect of Slytherin House!"

She raised her ring-wearing hand, admiring it against the light, her voice lazy yet clear, enough for everyone around to hear clearly, "I am very happy to introduce the long and glorious traditions of Slytherin House to every outstanding new student who wishes to join our Slytherin House."

As soon as these words were spoken, the Slytherin Houseupperclassmen who had originally been watching the show instantly erupted into a warm response.

"Well said, Catherine!"

"Slytherin House welcomes true powerhouses!"

"Glory! Ambition! Strength!"

Several tall Slytherin House students even shouted in unison that long-inherited short slogan that represented the core spirit of the house: "Slytherin seeks those of greatest cunning!"

This uniform shouting was like a loud slap, fiercely hitting Cormac Macmillan in the face, and also allowed students from other houses to once again experience the chilling cohesion and exclusivity of this ancient house.

Cormac Macmillan's face was as pale as paper, but he no longer had the courage to challenge. The Gryffindorcompanions who had once supported him now avoided his gaze, as if standing with him was a shameful thing. Amidst the unified chanting of the Slytherin House students, he, like a clown stripped of his clothes, sheepishly put away his wand and squeezed out of the crowd in embarrassment amidst the suppressed ridicule.

The farce was over.

Jerry's smile remained unchanged. He strolled to Catherine's side, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her in an extremely natural posture. This position was exactly what the Gryffindor youth had dreamed of but could not obtain.

As he approached, Jerry's palm swept past his side, seemingly casually. No one noticed that his slightly youthful fingers made an extremely small and hidden gesture in the air.

A breeze, almost imperceptible to ordinary people, arose at his thought. It did not blow anyone's hair, nor did it stir anyone's clothes, but like a living little snake, it silently slipped under Catherine's dark green robes.

The breeze climbed up along the curves of her slender, well-proportioned calves, carrying a touch of perfectly measured coolness, gently brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Eventually, it reached its destination, playfully circling and caressing that mysterious area wrapped in black lace panties, which was firm and plump.

The fine mesh of the lace was passed through by the wind, stirring up an unspeakable, faint, and tingling itch.

Catherine's figure did not waver in the slightest. Her beautiful face remained cold, with no expression leaking out, as if nothing had happened.

However, the corners of her originally slightly pursed red lips uncontrollably curled upward into an almost invisible arc. Clearly, she was extremely satisfied with Jerry using this secretive and bold method to help her drive away that annoying fly, and in doing so, performing this little "teasing" on her.

This was both Jerry, the little master, declaring his ownership, and a kind of intimate game that only the two of them understood.

With the surging of the crowd, the remaining first-year students also gradually boarded the platform of the entrance hall.

The upperclassmen who had been watching immediately took action, like vendors in a market soliciting customers, walking towards those new students who looked promising or had prominent family backgrounds, enthusiastically introducing the advantages of their houses. For a time, the entrance hall was filled with all kinds of noisy lobbying.

This lively scene came to an abrupt halt only when the last figure slowly walked up from the spiral staircase.

It was Professor McGonagall.

She seemed to be walking at the very back of all the new students on purpose, currently taking steps that were different from usual, slightly slower and more cautious.

Her expression remained serious, her gaze scanning the entire room sharply, carrying an unquestionable authority.

However, if there were a sufficiently keen observer, they would be able to detect a trace of unnaturalness from her overly straight back and slightly tightened gait.

With every step she took, the dark green robe fabric would gently rub against the movement of her thighs—a sensation that was in direct contact with her skin and could not be ignored.

Especially in this somewhat chilly Castle entrance hall, the breeze passing through the hall seemed to be able to easily penetrate the thin fabric, bringing a chill that made her core involuntarily contract.

Her complexion had a hint of an imperceptible blush compared to usual, but it was perfectly covered up by an even sterner expression.

She cleared her throat, her voice sounding a bit deeper and huskier than usual.

"Alright, Prefects, take the students of your houses through the side door to enter the Great Hall and get into position."

She gave the instruction, but her gaze swept intentionally or unintentionally toward the direction of Jerry and Catherine, a complex ripple passing deep in her eyes that only they could read.

Hearing this, the upperclassmen immediately stopped their introductions, turned around, and guided their companions, walking into the brightly lit Great Hall from the side door in an orderly manner, leaving the position of the main entrance hall to the new students who were about to begin the Sorting Ceremony.

"First-year students, follow me."

Professor McGonagall's voice echoed in the empty entrance hall. She turned and was the first to push open the huge oak doors leading to the Great Hall.

As she walked, the hem of her robes swayed rhythmically with her movements, and under that dark green fabric, the empty silhouette became even more obvious against the candlelight, adding a bit of an unspeakable, ambiguous aura to her stern back.

The new students followed her in awe, stepping into the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

The four long house tables were already filled with students. High above, thousands of candles floated in the air, illuminating the entire Great Hall.

Further up was the enchanted ceiling, which was currently displaying a starry night sky.

Professor McGonagall led the first-years to the staff table at the end of the hall, where a four-legged stool sat, holding a ragged, patched, and dirty pointed Wizard's hat—the Sorting Hat.

After a brief silence, a rip near the brim of the hat opened like a mouth and began to sing the annual Sorting Song. When the singing ended, Professor McGonagall unrolled a scroll of parchment and began to read the list.

"Hannah Abbott!"

A girl with flushed cheeks and two pigtails nervously stepped forward and put on the hat. The hat shouted almost immediately: "Hufflepuff!"

The Hufflepuff table erupted into enthusiastic applause. Hannah breathed a sigh of relief and trotted over to join them. Her gaze subconsciously searched the crowd, and when she saw Jerry's calm figure, her cheeks flushed red again involuntarily.

"Draco Malfoy!"

Malfoy walked up. Before the hat had even touched his meticulously gelled platinum-blonde hair, it shrieked: "Slytherin!"

The Slytherin table erupted in equally enthusiastic cheers. Catherine sat at the secondary seat of the long table and gave a subtle nod in Malfoy's direction, a gesture of acknowledgment for the descendant of a powerful pure-blood family.

"Ron Weasley!"

The freckled Ron walked up nervously. The hat remained on his head for a moment before finally shouting: "Gryffindor!" The Gryffindor table erupted in thunderous applause, and his brothers waved vigorously at him.

"Hermione Granger!"

Hermione practically ran to the stool and nervously put on the hat. The hat pondered for a long time on her head, seemingly unable to decide between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.

Finally, the hat shouted: "Gryffindor!" Hermione jumped off the stool with a sense of relief and ran to Ron's side.

"Harry Potter!"

When this name was read, the entire hall fell silent, followed by a buzz of discussion. "Is it Harry Potter?" "The Boy Who Lived?"

Under the gaze of everyone, Harry walked forward nervously.

The hat remained on his head longer than anyone else's, and the hall was so quiet that the crackling of the candle flames could be heard.

Finally, the hat shouted: "Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindor table went into an uproar. The Weasley twins shouted: "We got Potter! We got Potter!"

The list continued, name after name.

Finally, Professor McGonagall read the last name, her voice slowing down slightly, carrying a complex tone. "Jerry Rosier!"

If the name Harry Potter brought curious and admiring discussion, then the surname "Rosier" brought a deathly silence, filled with fear and hostility.

Everyone's gaze focused on Jerry. Amidst this heavy silence, he walked forward slowly with a calm and unhurried pace. There was not a hint of nervousness on his face, only a polite smile.

As he climbed the steps, his gaze met Catherine's. She gave him an encouraging and flirtatious smile, the ruby ring on her ring finger gleaming with an eerie light.

He sat on the stool, and Professor McGonagall picked up the ragged hat. The moment she placed it on his head, her fingertips seemed to brush against his temple, whether intentionally or not.

The moment the hat settled, an aged and surprised voice echoed in Jerry's mind. "Oh... an... an interesting soul. Ambition... yes, I see ambition comparable to Salazar Slytherin himself. Cunning, intelligent, and... this power... this power does not belong to a child... you..."

The voice paused, carrying a hint of confusion, and even a trace of awe. "...You do not belong here... or rather, everything here cannot contain you. But since you are here, only one place can be your springboard, rather than your cage..."

Outside, only a few seconds had passed. The ragged Sorting Hat used all its strength to scream the only answer to the entire hall, hoarsely yet with absolute clarity: "Slytherin!"

The Sorting Hat's roar echoed through the hall, the clear syllables almost lifting the roof. Applause and cheers came from the Slytherin table; it was Catherine and the upperclassmen cheering for him.

Jerry gently removed the hat and returned it to Professor McGonagall, still wearing a perfectly measured smile. He turned, ready to walk toward the sea of green.

However, at the very moment he turned, a cold gaze filled with intense pressure, like a materialized ray, locked precisely onto his back. Jerry's footsteps faltered slightly.

He could feel the malice and scrutiny contained within that gaze. It reminded him of some unpleasant memories.

He turned his head slowly, his gaze sweeping past the Slytherin table and landing on the staff table at the very front. A group of Hogwarts teachers sat there.

Dumbledore sat in the golden high-backed chair in the center, his long silver hair and beard cascading over his chest. He wore his signature kind smile, and his deep blue eyes peered at Jerry through half-moon spectacles.

Hagrid's massive frame was squeezed into his chair. There was also Professor Flitwick's small figure, Professor Sprout, Professor Quirrell with his eccentric purple turban, and various other Wizards and witches—some kind, some stern, some hateful, some curious—all observing the last one of the Rosier Family.

However, none of these familiar or unfamiliar faces were the source of that gaze. The gaze came from the second seat to Dumbledore's right. That woman.

She wore a black Wizard's robe that resembled an evening gown, its tight design outlining her curvaceous figure. The hem of the skirt flickered over her high heels, revealing a pair of sheer black stockings that encased her long, shapely legs.

The top of the stockings disappeared beneath the skirt, but that glimpse of black was enough to incite a desire to peek at hidden things. Her posture at the moment carried a deliberate languor. One leg was extended, the skirt slightly parted by the movement to reveal more of the stockings.

Her body was slightly angled toward Jerry, one hand resting on her chin, while the slender fingertips of her other hand tapped rhythmically against the edge of the table, her nails painted in the same seductive black as her stockings.

Her face was exquisitely made up, her lips a deep, blood-red, and the corners of her eyes were deliberately lined to create a foxy, upturned allure. Those eyes, clearly cold and sharp, were now rendered with an unmasked aggression, accentuated by the frivolous demeanor she had deliberately cultivated.

A mocking smile played on her lips as her gaze slid unashamedly from Jerry's toes upward, finally coming to rest on his face. It was as if she were using her eyes to strip away all his pretenses, leaving an invisible mark on him, as if claiming sovereignty, or perhaps telling him: "Little bastard, do you really think you can escape?"

This was none other than the woman who had wantonly humiliated and tormented Jerry with magic on the train, the Head of the Auror Office at the Ministry of Magic—Selina.

The way she looked at Jerry was both the scrutiny of a hunter toward its prey and the disdain of a lover toying with her captive, displaying her dominance without reservation in public.

Under Selina's unmasked, aggressive gaze, Jerry merely met her eyes calmly for a moment, then withdrew his gaze, a slight, almost imperceptible curve forming at the corner of his lips.

He walked down the steps with composure and headed straight for the Slytherin table. His arrival caused a stir at the Slytherin table.

Catherine had already saved a seat for him right beside her, on her left. Draco Malfoy sat on her right; although he didn't say anything, his look toward Jerry carried a hint of scrutiny and competition.

Jerry sat down calmly, and Catherine leaned in, asking with a languid smile in a voice only the two of them could hear: "How does it feel, little junior? Becoming one of us."

Before Jerry could answer, Dumbledore stood up at the head table. He spread his arms, a kind smile on his face, and the noisy hall immediately quieted down.

"Welcome!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Welcome to Hogwarts for a new school year! Before the feast begins, I'd like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

As soon as these words were spoken, enthusiastic applause and laughter erupted in the hall. Jerry noticed that Harry Potter and many of the newly enrolled half-blood Wizards clearly didn't understand the headmaster's meaning. They just followed the upperclassmen around them in applause with confused expressions.

However, soon, the smile on Dumbledore's face faded slightly, and he became serious. "Additionally, there are a few things to note. First-years, please note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all students. Some of our older students should also remember this well." His gaze swept over the direction of the Weasley twins.

"Finally, I am very pleased to announce that this school year, our curriculum will undergo some major adjustments." Dumbledore's voice rose slightly, successfully capturing everyone's attention. "Given the increasingly complex situation, knowing merely 'how to defend' is no longer enough. Therefore, we have decided to add a new course, open to all middle and upper-year students—the 'magic Offense' course."

"magic Offense?" This term caused an uproar among the students, who whispered to each other, a mix of excitement and confusion.

"That's right!" Dumbledore raised his hand to signal for quiet. "To ensure the professionalism of this course, we have specially invited an extremely outstanding expert from the Ministry of Magic, who possesses extensive experience in the field of combat." He turned to the side, extended his hand, and pointed at the seductive woman.

"Let us give a warm welcome to the Deputy Head of the Auror Office at the Ministry of Magic, your new Professorfor the magic Offense course—Ms. Selina!"

Selina stood up slowly amidst the applause. She didn't just nod in acknowledgment like the other Professors; instead, she walked to the podium with a cat-like stride.

Her long dress swayed with her movements, her long legs encased in black silk shimmering beneath the hem, every movement exuding the hormones of a mature woman.

Her red lips parted, her voice not loud, yet carrying a strange, piercing quality that clearly reached every corner of the hall: "I am very happy to be at Hogwarts. In my class, what you will learn is not the outdated theories from books, but how to use your wands to make your enemies shut up, in the most direct and effective way. I hope you are prepared."

Her gaze swept across Jerry's face, with a pointed implication.

Dumbledore waited until Selina finished speaking before continuing the announcement: "At the same time, I am pleased to tell everyone that your Potions Professor, Professor Snape, will also serve as the Professor for the 'magic Defense' course starting this school year."

This news caused another stir, especially at the Slytherintable, which erupted in suppressed cheers. On Professor Snape's perpetually gloomy face, a trace of imperceptible satisfaction seemed to flash.

Offense and defense, two Professors, two independent courses. The new school year at Hogwarts seemed, from the very beginning, to herald some unusual changes.

"Quiet!" Under Dumbledore's gesture, the last bit of noise in the hall subsided into silence. The familiar, slightly mysterious, kind smile reappeared on his face.

"Well, children!" His voice was gentle and resonant, echoing throughout the hall: "Since all the important announcements have been made, the next part is our pleasant start-of-term feast. Please enjoy!"

With his declaration, countless delicacies instantly appeared on the tables. On the previously empty golden plates, mountains of roast beef, succulent roast chicken, fragrant lamb chops, as well as golden, crispy roasted potatoes, colorful vegetable salads, and steaming fresh bread appeared out of thin air.

The dessert section was also dazzling, with pumpkin pasties, Chocolate Frogs, treacle tarts, and colorful puddings in abundance. The rich aroma of food instantly filled the entire hall, tantalizing the taste buds of every student. Cheers erupted once again, but this time it was heartfelt, accompanied by the clinking of knives and forks as the hungry students dug in.

The atmosphere at the Slytherin House table remained the most vibrant.

Some senior students had already begun toasting each other, celebrating the "status boost" their house had achieved in the new school year.

Jerry picked up a silver knife and fork, elegantly cutting a piece of roast beef into small bites and putting it into his mouth.

The meat was delicious, cooked to perfection.

He showed no signs of nervousness or restraint, as if he were born for such occasions.

He glanced casually at the other tables.

Over at the Gryffindor table, the trio of Harry Potter was devouring their food; Ron's mouth was stuffed, while Hermione appeared more refined, though her eyes were also filled with a longing for the delicious food.

The Ravenclaw students were eating while whispering about the potential magical theory challenges that the new courses might bring.

The Hufflepuff table, where Hannah was sitting, was peaceful, with everyone enjoying the pure joy that the food brought.

However, amidst all this bustle, Jerry's peripheral vision swept toward the teachers' table once more.

Selina still maintained her previous posture; the food on the plate in front of her had hardly been touched.

Her gaze was like an abyss, carrying a playful yet dangerous scrutiny. It would occasionally land on Dumbledore, then wander around, but it always, so inadvertently, once again, as if without any intention, fell upon Jerry.

That gaze was like a transparent thread, firmly connecting her to him.

"Tsk tsk!"

"You brought this upon yourself."

"Selina... Professor."

"Ding!"

[Monthly Mandatory Task] 'The Crown of Slytherin' has been completed.

A new monthly mandatory task is being generated.

Chapter 22: Senior, you really are a white tiger!

Just as the clamor of the banquet began to subside, the desserts on the plates were dwindling, and students began to show signs of post-meal fatigue, a melodious and ethereal sound pierced through the thick walls of Hogwarts, echoing in everyone's ears.

It was not the rough whistle of a steam locomotive, but more like a melodious call woven from wind and strings, carrying the tranquility and majesty of the deep, ancient forest.

The noise in the Great Hall came to an abrupt halt.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and, following the source of the sound, looked in unison toward the massive, closed oak doors that led to the outside world.

Even Selina, whose playful gaze had been locked onto Jerry, shifted it away for the first time; she raised one of her delicate eyebrows slightly, a flash of genuine curiosity and scrutiny in her eyes.

"What is going on?"

Catherine also sat up straight; for the first time, her face, which usually carried a look of laziness and confidence, revealed clear confusion.

Based on her experience, she was well-versed in every tradition and procedure of Hogwarts, but the scene before her had never appeared in any records.

Before anyone could react, Dumbledore, who was at the main seat, had already stood up.

The blue eyes that always twinkled with wisdom now held a touch of profound inquiry.

In the next moment, his figure transformed into an orb of soft, bright silver light, instantly crossing the entire hall and appearing silently in front of the massive oak doors.

Without the slightest hesitation, he reached out and gave it a gentle push.

"Creak!"

The heavy doors slowly opened inward.

As the doors swung open, an indescribable, incredibly rich aura of life, like the first breeze in a forest on a spring morning, brushed against their faces.

This aura was pure and vast, carrying the fragrance of vegetation, the stillness of ancient trees, and the sweetness of clear springs.

Under the influence of this aura, the flames of the candles in the Great Hall seemed to burn even brighter.

Everyone held their breath and craned their necks.

An unprecedented curiosity drove every student and teacher at Hogwarts to want to find out what was happening.

However, just as the door opened a crack, Dumbledore's tall figure blocked everyone's line of sight.

Then, a majestic voice filled with a hint of dissatisfaction came from outside the door: "Dumbledore, you should be aware of how much energy this journey cost, and the importance of these children to the Wizarding World.

We expected a clear arrangement, not this kind of hasty chaos."

That was the voice of the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge!

Dumbledore's signature gentle voice now carried a rare touch of firmness: "Minister, I am equally aware of the rules of Hogwarts, and that the safety of all students is my primary duty.

I cannot treat an unannounced late-night visit lightly."

Although their voices were not loud, the tension they contained was enough for everyone in the hall to feel.

The Professors, including Selina, immediately stood up and walked quickly toward the door, preparing to deal with this sudden turn of events.

"All students, return to your dormitories!" Professor McGonagall's voice carried unquestionable authority as she barked at the Prefects of each house, "Prefects, take all students back to their respective house common rooms immediately.

Strictly no loitering!"

Upon the order, the Prefects of each house immediately sprang into action.

The first-years' faces were filled with reluctance, but facing the stern gazes of the Professors, they could only leave dejectedly, following the senior students.

They looked back every few steps, hoping to catch even a glimpse of what was outside.

Catherine walked straight to Jerry's side, her hand resting on his back without any hesitation.

"Let's go, little junior." Her voice carried a unique allure as she whispered, "The Slytherin dorms are far more interesting than here."

Jerry was indifferent to the commotion outside; he simply nodded slightly and followed Catherine's pace, walking against the flow of the crowd toward the small door on the side of the hall.

Passing through a secret door hidden behind a fireplace, they entered a long, narrow corridor.

The walls on both sides of the corridor were covered with all kinds of portraits.

The characters in these portraits were not rigid, lifeless objects, but were filled with an aura of life.

In some portraits, there were lavishly dressed Wizards who were flashing a mysterious smile at Jerry.

Others depicted a Witch holding a wand, extracting magicfrom a Potion cauldron.

In some frames, there were not only Wizards but also some Elves with slender figures and handsome faces.

Some portraits were even particularly bold.

In a portrait framed with intricate gold, a pair of male and female Wizards were dancing in the air; their robes fell away as they spun, revealing the tangled bodies beneath.

Their body curves were vividly outlined by the brush; the Witch tilted her neck back, her face flushed with desire, while the Wizard hugged her from behind, planting a deep kiss on her shoulder—the scene was incredibly vivid and sensual.

Another depicted a Centaur frolicking with a naked Forest Elf in the woods; the Centaur's strong pectoral muscles shone in the sunlight, while the Elf giggled and dodged his "touches," the ambiguous interaction between their limbs rendered to the fullest.

As the two passed by these moving scrolls, the characters in the paintings would stop their "movements" and cast curious or inquisitive gazes at Jerry.

Of course, this was only temporary; once the crowd passed, they would return to their "bedtime activities."

Catherine seemed to have become accustomed to this.

Her gaze did not linger on those bold paintings; instead, it turned to Jerry's face, and with a meaningful tone and those sexy lip lines, she whispered:

"How about it? Is Slytherin, um... much more 'real' than you imagined?"

She deliberately emphasized the word "real," a hint of teasing in her eyes, as if observing his reaction to being impacted by this "reality."

Jerry just smiled imperceptibly, saying nothing.

His gaze did not deliberately pursue those scenes, but he did not avoid them either.

He could feel the interest, curiosity, and even a hint of slight dissatisfaction from the characters in the paintings after being disturbed.

But besides these art scrolls full of "the flavor of life," there were many other types of paintings hanging on the walls of this corridor.

They depicted, in a grander and more fantastical way, the worlds that Wizards had once conquered or explored, which belonged to them.

A huge scroll unfolded, depicting an endless sea of stars.

Countless colorful nebulae, like flowing paint, wrapped around planets that flickered with eerie light.

Deep in this vast universe, ancient, uniquely shaped spaceships were shuttling through; they were not creations of metal, but vessels woven from giant vines, with complex magical runes carved into their sails, flowing with mysterious radiance against the starlight.

Standing on the ships were Wizards clad in star-robes; they held no wands, yet they could invoke the power of the stars, steering these vine-ships, skimming past the tails of comets, and exploring unknown star sectors.

A painting next to it showed a land cut by rivers of lava. Scorching magma, like blood vessels, wound its way across the charred earth, the air filled with the smell of sulfur and fire.

However, in this hellish scene, huge, crystal-like cities rose from the ground.

These cities were crystal clear, shimmering with strange lusters in the red light of the lava, with countless lava behemoths crouching at the feet of the cities, as if tamed by invisible magical chains.

On the city walls, Wizards rode massive Fire Lizards, appearing and disappearing in the steam of the magma; their gazes pierced through layers of flames, looking toward a volcano in the distance that seemed to be made of pure energy.

Walking further ahead, a painting depicting the deep-sea world came into view.

It was utter darkness and depth, with only the light of countless deep-sea bioluminescent creatures dotting the space, like stars on the seabed. Huge underwater cities were hidden deep in the trenches, carved from coral and giant shells, with countless Merpeople and Ocean Elvesweaving through them.

At the heart of the painting was an octopus-like Ancient God, bound by chains and slumbering in the deep abyss; its tentacles extended out of the frame, as if one could feel its heavy and powerful breathing.

These scenes were magnificent and grand, every stroke filled with endless imagination, extending the Wizarding World to an unprecedented breadth and depth.

They were not just works of art, but silent epics, recording the desire for exploration and the omnipotent ambition that flowed through the bones of this ancient group, the Wizards.

Catherine's pace slowed with Jerry's gaze; she did not urge him, but instead watched his profile with great interest as he studied the magnificent scrolls.

When Jerry's gaze shifted from the painting of the deep-sea Ancient God, she spoke slowly.

"Spectacular, isn't it?"

Her voice carried a hint of echo in the empty corridor, pulling Jerry's thoughts back to reality.

"Gryffindors talk about courage, Ravenclaws are obsessed with knowledge in books, and Hufflepuffs... oh, Hufflepuffs are busy making friends."

Catherine chuckled, her laughter carrying obvious disdain.

Her fingertips lightly traced the edge of the painting depicting the sea of stars, as if stroking a piece of history that belonged to her.

"But these!"

She emphasized her tone, looking at Jerry with burning eyes: "All of these... the star-lanes, the core of the lava, the territories of the deep sea... are all worlds that were conquered or pioneered by our predecessors in Slytherin."

This sentence was like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, making the meaning of those paintings instantly become completely different.

They were no longer the general achievements of "Wizards," but a wall of merit exclusive to Slytherin House, branded with ambition and power.

She pointed to the crystal city, "Ravenclaw would go and study the magical composition of the lava, Gryffindorwould go and challenge those Fire Lizards, but only Slytherin would think about how to tame those behemoths, use the energy of the earth's core lava, build an unfallen city there, and turn the whole world into our source of Potion ingredients."

"What we pursue is never individual glory, but absolute power and influence that can be passed down from generation to generation."

Having said this, she turned around to face Jerry, the distance between them so close that they could almost feel each other's breath. Her eyes were deep, reflecting the bizarre and magnificent light and shadow from the paintings.

"Welcome to the top of the food chain, welcome to Slytherin."

Jerry tilted his head, sizing up the woman before him, who was trying hard to display her queenly aura, with a look of almost pure curiosity.

His eyes were calm and waveless, but he couldn't help but smile inwardly.

Little wildcat.

He really hadn't expected that this little kitten, who not long ago was like one that had been frightened yet dared not disobey orders, could today speak such words full of philosophy and ambition.

This strong sense of contrast was really... too interesting.

Watching her straighten her back at this moment, trying to use grand words like "top of the food chain" to try and overwhelm him, Jerry could even clearly recall how she had trembled slightly from shame and nervousness, yet had to obey orders.

The expression of humiliation and excitement intertwined on her face was far more charming than this current, affectedly profound posture.

"So..." Jerry finally spoke, his voice very light, yet like a precise key, easily prying open the aura Catherine had carefully constructed, "Is this the reason you, Senior, chose Slytherin? To stand at the 'top'?"

He deliberately slowed his speed on the words "top," giving them a different meaning.

Catherine's breathing stalled for a moment.

'Little pervert!'

Catherine rolled her eyes in her heart without a trace, but her face quickly returned to that signature, seductive smile.

Her body swayed slightly, like flowing vines; she extended her finger, her long nails carrying a hint of slight chill, gently sliding across Jerry's back in a seemingly unintentional tease.

"Of course!" Her voice returned to that perfectly seductive tone, only the end of the sentence was drawn out longer, carrying a hint of imperceptible hoarseness, "Only at the top of the food chain can one taste the most... ultimate flavors, right?"

"Let's go, little one. You still need to familiarize yourself with your territory properly now."