Directly buying Cassandra with money? No, that's too low-class, and it would only deepen her suspicion.
Or raise a greedy, insatiable lion.
Intimidation? Even stupider; that would only force her into Selina's arms faster.
True control stems from need.
What he needs to do is not to give, but to make her "ask" for it herself.
He needs an opportunity, an opportunity to make Cassandra fall into a "financial crisis."
By then, he, Jerry Rosier, would appear before her as a "helpful junior," offering "interest-free" or "low-interest" help... of course, everything has a price.
Debt, once established, is not just a monetary transaction.
It is a shackle, a favor, an invisible right of control.
He can not only use this to make her shut up, but also, step by step, pull her stance from Selina's side to his own.
Turning an enemy into a follower—the benefits of this are far greater than a few Galleons.
The system quest's extra rewards, [Ancient Bloodline Awakening Degree] and the [Master of Charm] title, are fatally attractive to him.
A perfect plan quickly took shape in his mind.
Now, he just needs to wait, or rather... create an opportunity for Cassandra to walk into the trap voluntarily.
"Mr. Rosier."
Professor McGonagall's cold voice poured down like a basin of ice water, instantly pulling Jerry back to reality from his grand underground financial blueprint.
He looked up and found the whole class's gaze focused on him once again.
Professor McGonagall on the podium was staring at him with her sharp green eyes, a faint, challenging curve on the corners of her mouth.
Clearly, his distraction just now had been caught red-handed by this observant Dean.
And this Professor, whom he had just "offended" in the office, clearly did not intend to let go of this opportunity to "abuse power for personal revenge" easily.
"Since you have perfectly mastered the basic species transformation spell!" Professor McGonagall's voice echoed in the quiet classroom, every word crystal clear, "Then, surely you have an understanding of the theoretical foundations of Transfiguration that surpasses the average person. Please stand up and answer a question."
Jerry stood up calmly; he knew the real test had come.
"Please explain to the whole class!" Professor McGonagallpaced slowly, her gaze from behind her glasses locked on Jerry, "The five principal exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. And explain with examples why food is the most important exception among them?"
As soon as this question came out, a faint sound of gasping echoed throughout the classroom.
Even Hermione Granger, who had just sat down and was struggling to open her textbook to keep up with the progress, showed a confused and shocked expression.
Gamp's Law?
That was high-level theory only explored in depth during the standard Wizarding Level examinations. To a group of freshmen who couldn't even transform a matchstick well, this was simply like reading a heavenly book.
A trace of schadenfreude flashed in the eyes of the Patil Sisters.
They were waiting to see Jerry make a fool of himself.
Professor McGonagall's goal was clear.
She wanted to defeat him.
If Jerry couldn't answer, she could rightfully criticize him for being "too ambitious and having a weak foundation," thereby avenging the humiliation of being suppressed by him in that unimaginable way in the office just now.
This brat, actually...
"The five principal exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration..."
Jerry's voice echoed in the classroom, clear and calm, "They are: things that are eternal, things that cannot be permanently transformed, the limitations of complex transformation, the creation and reversal of life, and the most core one—the creation of food."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the faces that were surprised, disdainful, or expecting him to make a mistake, finally landing on Professor McGonagall, a faint smile that seemed to see through everything lingering on his lips.
"The reason why food is the most important exception!" Jerry continued, "Is because it touches upon the most profound philosophical proposition of Transfiguration. We know that Transfiguration can convert one substance into another, but food is not just substance; it carries the energy and nutrition 'required for life.' magic cannot create food that can sustain survival out of thin air. You can turn a stone into bread, but that bread has no nutrition and cannot fill your stomach. You can turn a chair into a pork chop, but that pork chop has no essence of meat and tastes like nothing. This is not just a matter of magical efficacy, but involves the deep principle of 'conservation of energy.' The source of energy required for life cannot be generated by magic out of thin air; it must come from a truly existing life cycle. Therefore, the transformation of food is more of a trick of its form, rather than a substantial creation."
He expounded methodically, with clear logic, precise wording, and references.
The whole classroom was dead silent; everyone, including Hermione Granger, listened in stunned silence.
She subconsciously looked at her textbook and found that what Jerry said was even more detailed and profound than the textbook.
Professor McGonagall's words of rebuttal and criticism, which she had prepared, were all stuck in her throat.
In those green eyes of hers, besides the initial surprise, there was a bit more genuine appreciation.
This child was more excellent than she had imagined, and his understanding of Transfiguration might even exceed some of her fifth-year students.
"Slytherin, ten points!" Her voice was still serious, but her tone uncontrollably carried a hint of obvious satisfaction, "Very good, Mr. Rosier, please sit down."
Jerry sat back down, appearing composed amidst those amazed and jealous gazes.
Professor McGonagall turned and walked back to the podium. The moment she passed by Jerry, a subtle, almost imperceptible fluctuation of magic spread from her.
The transparent Wizard's robe became even more illusory at this moment, like a thin layer of mist.
Although no one could see what was happening under the robe, Jerry keenly captured that unusual "vacuum sensation."
It seemed to be Professor McGonagall declaring to him that she was not wearing any clothing underneath at the moment.
This fleeting "display" was limited to Jerry's perception, as if it were a silent response to the earlier office incident, carrying a hint of a mature woman's unique, subtle provocation and recognition.
However, at the teaching assistant's seat, Cassandra's gaze became even more suspicious.
She could not perceive Professor McGonagall's subtle magical display, but she clearly saw Jerry's dark eyes flash with a trace of imperceptible, meaningful fluctuation when Professor McGonagall passed by him.
And Professor McGonagall's footsteps also seemed to pause for just a split second at that moment.
"This Rosier..."
Cassandra's heart rang with alarm bells, "How many more secrets does he have?"
The bell for the end of class rang on time, announcing the end of this Transfiguration Class with a huge amount of information.
Students began to pack up their books and parchment as if granted amnesty, and the classroom was filled with the noisy sound of quill pens and books colliding.
It would soon be dinnertime, and the aroma of food from the Great Hall's kitchen seemed to float in the air.
Just as Jerry was unhurriedly putting his textbook into his Undetectable Extension Charm pocket, Hermione Grangerwalked over with some hesitation.
"Mr. Rosier!" She spoke in a low voice, her intelligent eyes beneath her fluffy brown hair filled with some admiration and a trace of nervousness, "Your... things."
As she said this, she laboriously dragged a neatly folded laundry basket out of her small-looking but actually spacious beaded bag.
The basket had been washed spotless and completely dried, emitting a clean scent of soap.
Jerry took a look and nodded with satisfaction.
He took the laundry basket and casually put it into his pocket, which also had an Undetectable Extension Charmcast on it, his movements as easy as if he were just stuffing in a piece of paper.
"Very good." He evaluated simply.
"That!" Seeing him accept the things, Hermione gathered her courage, just about to ask a few theoretical difficulties about Gamp's Law, when two figures intervened.
"Hermione, what do you have to say to a Slytherin?"
Ron Weasley walked over with an unhappy face, his gaze sweeping over Jerry, filled with Gryffindor-style, unreasonable hostility and a bit of jealousy: "Stay away from this kind of person!"
Harry followed beside him, not speaking, just curiously looking at this unusual first-year Slytherin before him.
Faced with Ron's blunt mockery, there was no expression on Jerry's face, not even a twitch of his eyebrows.
He just smiled, a polite and distant smile.
He turned to Hermione and said in a gentle tone: "Thank you for your service, Miss Granger. If you have any questions about Transfiguration that you don't understand, you can come to me at any time. Of course, provided that you continue to help me do my laundry."
After speaking, he ignored Ron and the thoughtful Hermione, turned directly, and walked alone towards the Great Hall.
Meanwhile, Cassandra also packed her things and left the classroom.
As soon as she went out, she saw a grey-brown owl quietly perched on the windowsill of the corridor, with a letter tied to its foot.
During class, owls delivering mail are not allowed to enter the classroom, so they usually wait outside very patiently.
Cassandra recognized this owl.
She stepped forward and took the letter.
Unfolding the letter paper, it had her boyfriend's familiar, slightly scrawled handwriting, and the content was as brief as ever—he was hinting in the letter to remind her that next month's "subsidy" should be prepared.
Cassandra pinched the thin letter paper, her knuckles turning a bit white.
Her beautiful eyebrows were tightly knitted together, and the composure and calmness that belonged to an honor student and teaching assistant were replaced by an undisguisable worry at this moment.
It was an expression mixed with irritability and embarrassment, as if she had fallen into an unsolvable financial quagmire.
Jerry walked past not far behind her; although he did not deliberately look at the content of the letter, his keen insight still captured the flash of gloom on her face.
"Tsk tsk... the pressure is indeed not small!"
He walked past Cassandra without squinting, continuing to advance towards the Great Hall.
The Castle's corridors were always particularly lively near dinnertime, as students gathered in twos and threes into a torrent rushing towards food.
Just as Jerry turned a corner with a tapestry of a one-eyed Witch hanging, a crisp and rhythmic sound of high heels tapping on the stone floor approached from far to near, making him stop his steps.
A tall figure walked towards him, and it was the new Professor of Magical Attack Class, Deputy Director, and the one who had a deep blood feud with Jerry—Selina.
She also seemed to have just finished class, holding a few thick textbooks in her arms.
However, the Wizard's robe she was wearing was vastly different from the traditional, conservative style of Hogwarts.
It was a meticulously tailored dark green robe, the fabric with a silky luster, tightly wrapping her mature and hot body curves, her waist tied with a thin silver chain, outlining an amazing waist-to-hip ratio.
The hem of the robe had a very high slit on the side, and with her walking movements, two long, beautiful legs wrapped in top-quality black silk stockings were looming, extending from the base of her thighs to her ankles stepping on sharp high heels.
She was wearing a pair of exquisite gold-rimmed glasses today, and the eyes behind the lenses were looking at Jerry, who was blocking her way, with a bit of playful amusement from high above.
Selina's figure was extremely tall; even though Jerry was not short among his peers, he only reached her waist and abdomen at this moment.
He needed to lift his head completely to see her face clearly.
This huge height difference brought a natural sense of oppression.
"Oh, isn't this our little genius of the first year, Mr. Rosier?"
Selina stopped in front of him and leaned down slightly. With her movements, the neckline of the robe slid down, revealing a large area of snow-white skin and a deep cleavage.
A mature woman's fragrance mixed with high-end perfume and her body heat enveloped Jerry like an invisible net.
"Class is over, not going to eat, what are you doing here?"
Her voice carried a lazy hoarseness, and every word was like a feather, gently scratching the listener's eardrum.
Jerry raised his head, his nasal cavity filled with that aggressive woman's scent, but his face still wore a polite and calm smile that matched his age.
"Hello, Professor Selina."
Jerry replied in a crisp voice, "I'm just about to go to the Great Hall."
However, beneath Jerry's calm exterior, his inner vigilance had already been raised to the highest level.
The woman in front of him was the sworn enemy of the Rosier Family.
Blood feud.
This word emerged in Jerry's mind.
Blood debts can never be resolved. Selina is a lioness wearing a Professor's robe, and he is the cub of the enemy in her eyes that must be torn to pieces.
At this moment, Jerry could clearly feel the undisguised, predatory gaze she was radiating, like a hunter looking at prey.
Her eyes, behind those gold-rimmed glasses, were scanning his every micro-expression like the most precise instrument, attempting to find even the slightest flaw in him.
Jerry was clear about his current situation.
He was still too weak, like a seedling that had just broken through the soil.
And the person before him was a deep-rooted towering tree, one of the most powerful Aurors in the Ministry of Magic.
Any rash move, any leak of emotion, could bring him a devastating blow.
But the fire in his heart burned even more fiercely because of this huge gap in strength.
He looked at Selina's beautiful face, at her condescending posture, and a crazy, dark thought took root in the deepest part of his heart.
'One day,' he said to himself in his heart, 'I will make you kneel at my feet.'
This thought was like a seed, rapidly taking root and sprouting.
What Jerry wanted was not just revenge, not just to kill her.
Jerry wanted to completely destroy her pride, break her claws, and turn this high-and-mighty woman into a bitch that could only wag its tail for pity, completely submissive to him.
But for now, he had to endure. He had to play the role of a harmless, intelligent, and even somewhat naive genius freshman well.
"Mr. Rosier!" Selina seemed somewhat surprised by his calm. She straightened up, extended a finger painted with bright red nail polish, and gently hooked Jerry's chin, a movement full of an adult woman's teasing and control over a boy,
"I heard you shone brilliantly in Professor McGonagall's class. Truly an amazing child. I am very much looking forward to what kind of surprises you will bring in my magic Offense class."
Her fingertips carried a hint of chill, and her tone was full of undisguised "expectations." Beneath that expectation was a cold, murderous intent waiting for him to make a mistake.
Jerry stepped back slightly without changing his expression, just enough to avoid Selina's ambiguous finger.
He showed no fear or revulsion, just walked past her side with an attitude so indifferent it was almost dismissive, heading straight for the Great Hall.
That thick, almost tangible murderous aura was like an undercurrent in the deep sea. And Jerry was a fish unaffected by it, swimming towards his destination on his own.
Walking into the brightly lit Great Hall, Jerry familiarly came to the Slytherin table.
Catherine had already saved a seat for him, and he sat down beside her quite naturally.
Not far away, Draco Malfoy was chattering away to Pansy Parkinson, probably bragging about what new things his father had bought for him again.
When Pansy caught a glimpse of Jerry sitting down out of the corner of her eye, her body trembled slightly for no reason, and her face turned a few shades paler.
Even though many days had passed, everything that happened on the train remained an inescapable nightmare for her.
She would never forget Jerry's cold gaze that treated human life like grass.
She wasn't afraid that Jerry would mock her like he did the Gryffindors; she was genuinely afraid, afraid that this capricious "classmate" would one day be in a bad mood and quietly "dispose" of her, an insider, just to keep her quiet.
Just as Pansy was trembling with fear, Jerry seemed to notice her gaze, turned his head, and gave her a gentle smile that revealed no emotion.
To Pansy, this smile felt colder than any threat.
Jerry ignored her further and turned to chat in a low voice with Catherine beside him.
Seeing this, Malfoy stopped harassing Pansy.
He looked at Jerry, not with much jealousy in his eyes, but more with a sense of pure curiosity and approval.
As a child spoiled in a pure-blood family, his thinking was actually relatively simple; he worshipped the strong and longed to establish connections with more powerful people.
He cleared his throat, leaned over proactively, and said in his unique, arrogant tone: "Rosier, well done. Someone should have taught those Mudbloods and the poor wretches of the Weasley Family a lesson long ago." He was actively extending an olive branch of friendship.
Hearing this, Jerry turned his head to look at Malfoy, a sincere smile appearing on his face. Of course, he had no reason to refuse.
After all... his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, was indeed a very beautiful woman.
Thinking of how that noble pure-blood lady was forced to open her clothes in front of him on the train, feed warm breast milk into his mouth, and finally, in tears of humiliation, was forcibly inserted with that cold silver anal plug by him, Jerry felt that being friends with her naive son was a very interesting thing.
"By the way!" "She's coming to see Malfoy at the end of the month!" "Hehe!"
Jerry and Malfoy chatted briefly. Afterward, Malfoy went back to Pansy's side with great interest, continuing to brag about his new broomstick.
Dinner was still a while away, and although the Great Hallwas lively, students from all houses were waiting for the food to appear.
Jerry turned his head to Catherine beside him, and the two continued to discuss how to build his lending network within Hogwarts in voices so low only they could hear.
"Hogwarts students aren't short of money, at least they aren't as savvy as adult Wizards, so our capital recovery won't be a problem."
Catherine's slender fingers tapped lightly on the table as she analyzed in a low voice, "The key is how to attract them initially, establish our 'credibility,' and at the same time... make it clear to them that the consequences of default will make them regret it."
She said the last few words very softly, but her tone revealed a chilling coldness.
After hearing this, Jerry looked at her appreciatively. This was the judgment that a member of the Rosier Familyshould have.
Just as the two were talking, a sound of footsteps filled with reluctance, mixed with the faint sound of fabric rubbing, reached Jerry's ears from afar.
He didn't even need to turn around to hear whose voices they were—the Patil sisters, Padma and Parvati.
At this moment, their faces both wore a suppressed displeasure, as well as an unspeakable, coy shyness.
It was a kind of awkwardness of being unwilling yet having to keep their promise, which made their posture look exceptionally alluring.
They walked to the aisle behind Jerry and Catherine and stopped softly, as if afraid of being noticed by others.
"Here... for you." Padma's voice was kept extremely low, as thin as a mosquito, but carried an inexplicable annoyance.
She quickly pulled out a small bundle wrapped in a plain handkerchief from under her wide Wizard robes. Parvatijust pursed her lips tightly, her eyes wandering, her cheeks slightly red, but she didn't make a sound.
However, her long legs, wrapped in black silk stockings, seemed to have lost their support, slightly apart and appearing a bit shaky.
Even through their clothes, Jerry noticed something wrong—their walking posture was a bit strange, their hips seemed to be deliberately clenched, and every step was taken carefully, as if afraid that something might inadvertently fall out from under their robes.
This was naturally the habitual body language of women in a "commando" state to avoid friction and exposure.
Jerry didn't open the handkerchief on the spot, just took the heavy little package expressionlessly and casually put it into his pocket.
Then, he slightly turned his head and only glanced at the sisters, who were extremely embarrassed, out of the corner of his eye.
Padma and Parvati's cheeks were already flushed red, their eyes were dodging, and even their necks were tinged with pink.
They could clearly feel the unprecedented emptiness and chill under their robes, and every slight movement brought a wave of stimulation so sensitive it made them tremble.
It was a complex emotion between shame, nervousness, and secret excitement, intertwined in their hearts.
This strange and bold experience made their bodies appear more sensitive and stiff.
They only hoped that Jerry would look at them quickly and then signal that they could leave.
This feeling of standing near the Slytherin table, barely covered, made them suffer terribly. They wanted to escape, but they had to stay here, waiting for Jerry's "inspection."
Jerry didn't put the handkerchief bundle away immediately; instead, he unfolded it slowly in front of Catherine.
Inside the handkerchief lay two small pieces of fabric, folded neatly by them.
One piece was pure white cotton, still carrying a bit of warmth from the girl's body and a faint scent of soap, with a delicate little daisy embroidered on the corner, obviously belonging to the conservative Padma, who wore white stockings.
The other piece was black lace, carrying a hint of more mature allure, with a texture so thin it was almost transparent, belonging to the open and bold Parvati.
Catherine watched with great interest, a knowing smile curling the corner of her mouth. She signaled to Jerry with her eyes: My Little Pervert Master, what wicked game are you playing again.
Jerry admired the two pairs of panties for a while, as if appreciating some work of art, before wrapping the handkerchief back up.
But he didn't let them off just like that.
Jerry raised his head, his gaze sweeping over Padma and Parvati's faces, which were filled with humiliation and anxiety. His voice was not loud, but it clearly reached their ears: "How do I know if you are keeping our bet now?"
The sisters' bodies froze at the same time.
"Don't forget!" Jerry's tone was as flat as if he were discussing the weather, "Our bet is not just about handing the panties over to me. More importantly, before dinner ends, you must both remain in a 'commando' state."
These words were like a heavy hammer, shattering their last shred of luck.
Parvati's lips moved, as if she wanted to say something, but Jerry's gaze made her swallow her words back.
"So!" Jerry leaned back in his chair, making an imperceptible gesture, "Lift your robes a little and let me check."
"You... you shameless!" Padma finally couldn't help it, whispering a curse in a breathy voice, but that voice sounded powerless due to nervousness and shame, instead sounding more like a lover's coquettish rebuke.
Parvati bit her lower lip tightly, her large eyes welling up with water, and her body swayed slightly due to resistance.
However, Jerry just looked at them quietly, without urging or threatening. That composed sense of oppression made them feel more desperate than any harsh words.
They knew they had no choice.
Under Jerry's calm gaze, any resistance seemed so pale and powerless.
Finally, after a brief and agonizing standoff, Padma was the first to give in.
Padma, with trembling hands, carefully lifted a corner of her robe's hem, just to the root of her thigh. Catherine also curiously cast her gaze over.
Under the shadow of the robe was a dazzling sight.
Above her long legs in white stockings, that most private area was exposed to the air without any obstruction.
The girl's lower parts were delicate and plump, the fine fuzz groomed very neatly, presenting a healthy, pink state.
Because of nervousness and shame, it appeared exceptionally tight, with the two soft labia closed together, forming an alluring slit.
Immediately after, Parvati also resignedly lifted her robe with stiff movements.
The black silk stockings extended upwards, forming a sharp contrast with the snow-white thigh skin, finally disappearing into the shadow of the robe.
Parvati's lower parts seemed a bit fuller than her sister's, and the fuzz was denser too, equally pink and tender, but against the backdrop of the black silk stockings, that visual impact seemed even stronger.
At this moment, in that slit, a trace of crystalline liquid had even secreted due to excessive stimulation, slightly reflecting in the dim light.
Both of them only dared to lift it for a split second before immediately putting their robes down, as if exposing it for one more second would be a great torture.
They kept their heads down, their breathing becoming rapid.
"Very good, keeping a promise is a virtue." Jerry finally nodded with satisfaction, seemingly very approving of the "evidence" he had just seen.
He didn't make things difficult for them anymore; instead, he took a small velvet box out of his pocket.
After opening it, inside lay a pair of pure gold earrings with an exquisite design, inlaid with tiny diamonds, shimmering with an expensive glow under the candlelight of the Great Hall.
"This is a reward for you." He handed the box over, "Those who keep their promises should always get some benefits."
The value of this pair of earrings was far beyond what two first-year freshmen could afford. Padma and Parvati looked at the beautiful earrings, stunned for a moment.
Shame, anger, grievances, and the surprise and a hint of secret joy at receiving such a valuable gift at this moment, all sorts of complex emotions intertwined, leaving their brains in a mess, completely not knowing how to react.
Eventually, it was Parvati, wearing black silk stockings, who was the first to extend that slightly trembling hand.
Her fingertips touched the cold velvet box, as if she had been burned, but she still quickly picked it up and gripped it tightly in her palm, as if afraid that others would see this item that represented her humiliation and "reward."
Seeing this, Padma also hesitantly reached out and took the pair of "trophies" that should have belonged to them.
The weight of that pair of earrings felt exceptionally heavy in their hands, and the shimmering light stung their eyes and also stirred up their hearts.
They didn't say thank you, and they couldn't say it either.
They only looked at Jerry with an extremely complex gaze—that gaze contained resentment, fear, but also seemed to contain a strange obedience caused by the inability to resist, which even they themselves hadn't noticed.
"Alright, go eat." Jerry's voice was very light, as if he were dismissing two children who had come to collect candy, "Remember, don't put them on until dinner is over."
This reminder, like a final brand, deeply etched this sense of shame into their minds.
The sisters couldn't stay any longer, clutching that small box, and almost fled back to the Gryffindor table.
Their movements were exceptionally stiff when they sat down, carefully keeping their legs together, afraid that any unnecessary friction would remind them of the emptiness under their robes at this moment.
Their dinner was destined to be uneatable.
"Little Pervert Master!" Catherine's voice brushed against Jerry's earlobe like a feather, with a hint of lazy charm, "They both have prizes, I want one too."
As she spoke, she used her leg, clad in black silk stockings, to gently rub against Jerry's calf under the table, her eyes full of hints and seeking credit.
Chapter 64
Jerry smiled, just about to tease them a bit, when three older students, carrying their trays, sat down opposite and next to them.
The leader was Cassandra, her face still bearing that lingering worry, thoughtfully poking at the food on her plate.
Sitting beside her was a girl with a completely different demeanor—Fiona, one of Catherine's roommates.
Fiona had neat, dark brown short hair, the ends just reaching her ears, making her appear very capable.
Her features were sharp, her eyes keen, and her every move exuded the confidence and decisiveness cultivated from a family long accustomed to being at the center of power.
As the daughter of a high-ranking Ministry of Magicofficial, she possessed a natural, imposing aura without needing to show anger.
The last person was Isabella, a seventh-year Prefect.
Isabella was undoubtedly the most striking of the three.
She had long platinum blonde hair, skin so fair it was almost translucent, features as delicate as a doll, and exuded the impeccable elegance and arrogance of a 'cherished daughter' from a noble pure-blood family.
However, when Isabella's gaze met Jerry's across the air, that arrogance was instantly replaced by a hint of complex emotions—resentment, shame, and an uncontrollable throb deep within her body.
Isabella couldn't forget the conflict from a few days ago, nor could she forget how that night, she had inexplicably snuck into Jerry's room, hiding under his bed like a despicable peeping tom. She had watched with her own eyes as this junior, six years her junior, calmly and skillfully caressed that astonishingly large thing of his, which was certainly not fitting for his age, under the dim light.
What made her feel most ashamed and panicked was the thick bodily fluid she had inadvertently tasted.
The taste... it was like the freshest, richest sour cream, with a strange, captivating sweet and savory tang.
From that day on, that taste seemed to be etched onto her taste buds and memory, making her body uncontrollably recall that forbidden flavor whenever she saw Jerry.
Isabella, of course, didn't know that the surging, almost reason-devouring forbidden desire within her at this moment didn't just stem from that night's peeping and accidental taste.
Beneath her well-tailored Slytherin robes, pressed against her warm skin, lay an exquisite silver pendant.
It was a gift he had given her a few days ago, as an 'apology' after their conflict.
Yes!
A gift!
Fiona was always a pragmatic girl.
Having been immersed in the world of power for too long, she held different views on bloodline and allegiance compared to her peers.
The decline of the Death Eater families was an opportunity for her own family's rise, so she harbored no contempt for Jerry, a descendant of former Death Eaters, as pure-blood Wizards usually did. Instead, she regarded him with a business-like scrutiny and curiosity.
"Catherine, aren't you going to introduce your friend?" Fiona put down her cutlery, her keen eyes fixed on Jerry. Her tone was devoid of obvious emotion, yet clearly pointed.
Catherine understood, smiling as she gently nudged Jerry's arm: "This is Jerry Rosier, our Slytherin's new star first-year.
Jerry, this is Fiona, your seventh-year senior and my roommate."
"Hello, Senior!"
"Rosier?"
Fiona softly repeated the surname, a hint of amusement flashing in her eyes. "I've heard much about you. You're quite the sensation in the academy; it seems the Rosier Family's bloodline is still extraordinary."
Her words sounded like both praise and a test.
Jerry politely nodded; his impression of Fiona wasn't bad.
This short-haired senior, though not as dazzling as Isabellaor as charming as Catherine, possessed a clean and sharp beauty of her own.
He observed her, noticing that while her chest curve wasn't exaggerated, her overall proportions were balanced, making her appear vibrant and powerful, with a unique charm unlike that of an ordinary Witch.
"You flatter me, Senior; I was merely lucky."
Jerry responded courteously, but in his heart, he had already labeled her as a 'potential pawn to be won over in the future'.
The daughter of a Ministry of Magic official—that identity alone was invaluable.
Chapter 30: Senior, put on this necklace.
Dinner was lavish tonight; in fact, Hogwarts' food was always excellent.
The aroma of roasted chicken, steak, meat pies, boiled potatoes, and various vegetables mingled, wafting through the Great Hall.
The students' conversations grew lively with it.
Jerry unhurriedly cut himself a piece of gravy-covered steak, his gaze subtly drifting towards the teachers' table in the distance.
There were a few unfamiliar faces at the teachers' table tonight.
They were three men and women dressed in dark, impeccably tailored robes, their expressions solemn, starkly out of place with the relatively relaxed atmosphere of the Hogwarts Professors.
Each wore a silver badge representing the Ministry of Magic on their chest, and they were conversing in low voices with Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Selina, their eyes occasionally sweeping over the student tables below.
Just as Jerry observed them discreetly, a slightly hesitant, hushed voice came from beside him.
"They are Aurors from the Ministry of Magic!"
It was Isabella.
She looked straight at her plate, her body subtly leaning towards Jerry, and said in a voice only they could hear: "They're here to investigate the attack on the Hogwarts Express."
Catherine, who was twirling a small ball of mashed potatoes with her fork, paused at these words.
Catherine glanced at Isabella with some surprise.
Catherine knew her roommate's personality all too well.
Isabella was a typical proud pure-blood, extremely self-respecting, and usually dismissive of younger students.
Moreover, just a few days ago, Catherine had personally witnessed how mercilessly Jerry had pinned this seventh-year Prefect to the floor, with Isabella wearing only a nearly transparent gauze nightgown and no underwear. That humiliation and distress should have made her hate Jerry to the bone.
Yet now, instead of seeking revenge, she was actively providing Jerry with such crucial information, like an accomplice.
This shift in attitude was too sudden and abnormal, leaving Catherine feeling a touch of confusion and surprise.
Jerry did not immediately respond to Isabella's overture.
He merely glanced at her from the corner of his eye, showing neither gratitude nor repulsion.
It was a pure, almost indifferent attitude, as if her words were nothing more than an irrelevant whisper in the wind.
This lukewarm reaction made Isabella's heart feel as if it were tightly squeezed by an invisible hand.
Under the influence of the pendant, Isabella had developed a desire to get closer to Jerry.
But at this moment, being ignored by Jerry, and the pride of being a pure-blood noble and a seventh-year Prefect, made it unbearable for her to actively curry favor with a junior, especially after being so humiliated by him.
This intense contradiction made her restless.
Isabella's cheeks flushed slightly from suppressed emotion, and her fingers gripping the knife and fork turned a little white.
Just as this small area at the dining table fell into an eerie silence, the crisp sound of high heels broke the calm.
Professor Selina had left the teachers' table at some point and was now walking with elegant yet imposing steps towards the Slytherin long table.
Her keen gaze, framed by gold-rimmed glasses, first swept over the restless Pansy Parkinson.
"Miss Parkinson, stand up." Selina's tone allowed no argument.
Pansy jumped, unsure what she had done wrong, but hastily stood up from her seat, nervously looking at this powerful new Professor.
Selina, however, no longer looked at her, instead fixing her gaze entirely on Jerry.
A playful, yet chillingly murderous, curve appeared at the corner of her lips.
"Let's go!" she said, word for word, in her languid and husky voice, "Genius of the House of Rosier!"
The Great Hall instantly fell silent, all eyes fixed on Selinaand Jerry.
However, Selina's gaze was not solely on Jerry.
Her sharp eyes swept across the Gryffindor table, the Ravenclaw table... Following her command, more first-year students, both male and female, timidly stood up from their seats, one by one.
They all shared one characteristic: they were all witnesses to the attack on the Hogwarts Express.
"All students who were on that train, please follow me."
Selina's voice echoed in the silent Great Hall. With a gentle wave of her hand, an invisible force guided these first-years out of the warm hall and into an empty classroom next to the Great Hall.
The classroom was dimly lit, with only a few oil lamps burning. In the center stood a Diviner wearing a crimson robe, with a large eye in the middle of his forehead.
His eye had no pupil, only a chaotic gray, but it emitted an eerie glow that sent shivers down one's spine.
Ministry of Magic officials and several Professors stood solemnly on either side, the atmosphere grave and oppressive.
Every student brought in was asked to step before the Diviner.
He would gaze into the student's eyes, muttering incantations, and then a faint green glow would envelop the student's entire body.
This was the Ministry of Magic's Veritaserum, capable of easily revealing the deepest lies of the heart.
Jerry was placed in the middle of the line.
He calmly watched the students before him, each with varying expressions, being tested. Some were pale, some had sweat on their foreheads, but without exception, they all felt uneasy under the Diviner's chaotic eye.
Before long, it was Pansy's turn.
"Miss Parkinson," Professor McGonagall's voice rang out.
Pansy's body visibly trembled. She practically scrambled to her feet, her face even paler than it had been in the Great Hall.
Her steps were unsteady, each one like treading on cotton, and the walk to the center of the classroom felt as long as walking to the execution ground.
She dared not look at anyone, especially in Jerry's direction in the line. She could feel that calm gaze, like a cold knife, pressed against her back.
She stood before the Diviner, and that large, pupil-less gray eye simply stared at her, making her almost burst into tears.
The incantation began, and a faint green light enveloped her.
"State your name and year," the Diviner's voice echoed directly in her mind.
"Pansy Parkinson... Slytherin, first year..." Her voice carried a clear sob.
Everyone present believed this was a normal reaction from a frightened young Witch, including Selina, who merely observed with interest, seemingly assessing how different students reacted under pressure.
"What were you doing when the attack occurred?"
Pansy's mind was a mess, but her survival instinct made her cling to a lifeline: she didn't need to lie.
Jerry hadn't cast any memory magic on her; everything in her mind had genuinely happened.
She just needed to... excise all parts concerning Jerry.
Her fear didn't come from the Diviner or the Ministry of Magic officials before her, but from that quietly standing, first-year figure in the line.
This more lethal fear, paradoxically, made her exhibit a certain degree of 'truthfulness' in answering the questions.
"I... I was chatting with Draco in the compartment... then it got chaotic outside... I saw a group of people in black robes and masks rush in... they attacked students with spells, it was terrifying..." She spoke, genuinely sobbing as she recalled the bloody scene, her body beginning to tremble.
The green light enveloping her remained stable and pure, without the slightest change.
"Did you see any student casualties?"
Or, did you see any student inflict fatal harm on the attackers?" a Ministry of Magic official pressed.
This question hit Pansy like a hammer to the chest.
She suddenly remembered the Wizard Jerry had dismembered with a spell, and his cold eyes that regarded human life as dirt.
Immense fear almost made her faint, but it was precisely this fear that became her best disguise.
"I don't know... I don't know..."
She shook her head as if collapsing, tears streaming down her face. "I was too scared... I hid under the seat and didn't dare to look at anything... I only heard screams and explosions outside... I didn't see anything... Please, I beg you, don't ask anymore..."
Her performance perfectly portrayed a terrified girl who knew nothing.
Her pain, her tears, her fear—all were genuine, heartfelt reactions.
A flicker of movement crossed the Diviner's chaotic eyes. What he perceived was pure, immense fear stemming from traumatic memories, not the guilt of concealing a lie.
A few seconds later, he wearily waved his hand.
"Next."
The green light dissipated, and Pansy, as if granted a reprieve, her legs gave way, almost falling to the ground.
She dared not look back, stumbling back to the end of the line, finding a corner to squat down, burying her head deep in her arms, her body still trembling uncontrollably.
She had passed, but she knew well that the secret between her and that devil had become even more firmly bound.
Soon, it was Jerry's turn.
"Mr. Rosier, please step forward."
McGonagall's voice carried an undeniable tone.
Jerry walked calmly up to the Divination Wizard and looked up at that giant grey eye.
The Divination Wizard took a deep breath, and a scent of decaying herbs wafted from his body.
His chaotic eyes focused on Jerry, and he began to chant a long and ancient incantation in a low, hoarse voice.
A pale green light, more intense than before, instantly enveloped Jerry.
"Tell us, on the train, what did you see, and what did you hear?"
The Divination Wizard's voice was ethereal and deep, as if it were resonating directly in Jerry's heart.
Jerry's eyes stared straight into the Divination Wizard's giant eye, without flinching or wavering in the slightest.
Jerry began to recount calmly, "I was in a private compartment at the time and heard the sounds of the disturbance outside, but I didn't dare leave the compartment, so I don't know anything."
Every word Jerry spoke was clear and steady, his tone devoid of fluctuation, as if he were merely a bystander.
The wrinkles on the Divination Wizard's forehead deepened as he exerted himself to probe, and the chaos within that grey eye seemed to solidify.
The Divination Wizard increased his magic, and the green light of the lie detector grew brighter, attempting to pierce through Jerry's heart.
However, the green light remained pure throughout, without the slightest discoloration. This meant that everything Jerry said was the truth.
The Divination Wizard's eye twitched slightly, but the green light remained pure.
The Divination Wizard increased the intensity again and asked a deeper question: "Did you personally kill the attacker?"
Jerry did not change his expression, and his eyes even held a hint of a child's characteristic innocence: "No, I hadn't even enrolled at the time; how could I possibly kill a powerful attacker?"
The light of the spell flickered again, but the result remained the same.
The Divination Wizard withdrew the spell, rubbed his brow wearily, and did not ask any further questions.
He gestured that Jerry could leave.
Jerry shrugged, not looking at anyone, merely sneering in his heart.
Detecting lies?
Jerry nonchalantly touched the ring on his finger.
It was to prevent mind-reading and lie-detection spells.
Jerry had used Synthesis to craft this ring long ago; he hadn't expected it to actually come in handy today.
Just as Jerry turned to leave the classroom, Selina's voice, which was languid yet carried a hint of sharpness, sounded again.
"Stop."
Jerry's footsteps halted. He turned around calmly and looked at the woman who was observing him with great interest.
Selina pushed up the gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of her nose. The gaze behind the lenses was as sharp as a hawk's, yet a playful smile curled at the corners of her mouth.
"Mr. Rosier!" she said slowly, her voice not loud, yet it clearly carried throughout the oppressive room, "Are you very wealthy?"
The question came out of nowhere, causing the few Ministry of Magic officials and Professors present to show expressions of confusion.
This was an investigation into a terrorist attack; why would she suddenly ask about a student's financial status?
Jerry did not answer, merely watching her quietly, waiting for what would come next.
Selina had clearly obtained the information she wanted from Cassandra, and might have even accessed records of Jerry's spending in Diagon Alley through certain channels.
She took two steps forward; the sound of her high heels clicking against the stone floor was crisp and rhythmic, each strike sounding as if it were tapping on someone's heart.
"I remember," Selina's voice carried a deliberately drawn-out tone, "my colleague, Captain Mina, once mentioned you."
The Captain Mina she spoke of was, naturally, that Aurorcaptain.
"She said you were an impoverished child, very poor."
"So poor that even your school robes were purchased for you with her private funds."
She paused there, her gaze locked tightly on Jerry's face, not missing a single subtle change in his expression.
"So, I would like to ask," her voice suddenly turned cold, and beneath that playfulness was an undisguised interrogation, "why do your transaction receipts in Diagon Alley show... that you are exceptionally wealthy?"
Facing Selina's aggressive questioning and the scrutinizing gazes cast by the surrounding Ministry of Magic officials and Professors, not a hint of panic appeared on Jerry's face.
He just looked at Selina calmly, then slowly reached into the inner pocket of his robe.
What he pulled out was a thick billing document made of parchment.
Under the surprised gazes of everyone, Jerry unfolded the document and extracted a few yellowed land deeds and contracts stamped with magical seals.
"Madam Director, you are quite right," his voice was clearly audible in the quiet room, carrying a composure inconsistent with his age, "Before receiving my Hogwartsacceptance letter, I was indeed penniless."
He placed those deeds gently on an empty table nearby, his movements unhurried.
"The Rosier Family has been in decline for a long time, but that does not mean our former glory and... claims to debts have disappeared."
Jerry's gaze swept over the adult Wizards present, and he stated the logic of an ancient family in a flat tone, "Many Wizard families have owed our family debts of varying sizes."
"When I was considered a Squib and the family had no heir, they could naturally and comfortably put these debts out of their minds."
He paused, giving everyone present time to digest the information, then continued, "However, when I received the invitation to Hogwarts, this news spread quickly in the pure-blood circles."
"This meant that the House of Rosier had a new heir."
"Consequently, those shrewd debtors all chose this moment to 'return' the funds and properties they had owed for years to me, the future head of the family."
He spread his hands, a slightly mocking smile appearing on his face, "So, I did indeed suddenly become wealthy."
"But this wealth, every single Knut, was obtained legitimately and is the legal property of our Rosier Family."
This explanation was reasonable and impeccable, perfectly explaining the contradiction between the "poverty" in Selina's perception and the "wealth" on the bills.
The Divination Wizard's chaotic eye swept towards Jerryagain; the residual magic of the lie-detection spell did not detect any false components.
Selina stared at Jerry for a long time, seemingly wanting to find even a hint of a flaw on his overly calm face, but ultimately failed.
She slowly withdrew that oppressive aura.
"A very good explanation, Mr. Rosier."
She said finally, her tone making it impossible to tell if it was praise or a warning, "You may return."
Jerry nodded politely, without saying another word, and turned to leave the suffocating classroom first.
He had managed to pass through this difficult situation, thanks to his excellent eloquence and advance preparation, without any mishaps.
However, deep in his consciousness, the prompt representing the system quest did not display the word "Completed."
This meant that the suspicion brought about by Cassandrahad not been truly eliminated.
Everything was not yet over.
When the last first-year student left the classroom with the expression of a survivor, their steps unsteady, the door was gently closed, sealing off all sounds from the outside.
The atmosphere inside the room, however, was even heavier than before.
The Divination Wizard with the giant eye on his forehead slumped wearily into his chair, wiping cold sweat from his brow with a handkerchief; clearly, performing lie detection on so many students had exhausted a great deal of his energy.
Professor McGonagall's tense face could finally no longer maintain its calm.
"Professor Selina!"
Professor McGonagall's voice was cold and hard, filled with undisguised questioning: "I truly cannot understand why the Ministry of Magic's Divination Wizard would reach the absurd conclusion that 'the murderer who killed those well-trained Aurors was a young boy'?"
Her voice echoed in the empty room, carrying a hint of mockery: "Could it be that after leaving the border battlefield, the Aurors of the Ministry of Magic have all seen their strength decline to the point where they cannot even handle an underage boy?"
"Or!"
She paused, every word piercing like an ice pick, "Are you using your public office for private gain, and under the guise of an investigation, doing something else here?"
This accusation was quite serious, almost explicitly pointing out that Selina was abusing her power and had ulterior motives.
"Minerva..."
Albus Dumbledore, seeing this, was just about to speak to smooth things over and ease the atmosphere.
However, Selina laughed before he could.
It was a light laugh, carrying a hint of mockery and weariness.
She pushed up her glasses, the lenses reflecting the dim light of the oil lamp, making it impossible to see the emotions in her eyes.
"Professor McGonagall!"
She spoke slowly, her tone so flat it was as if she were discussing the weather: "If our Divination Wizards' prophecies were accurate every single time."
"Then our recent border war against dark creatures would not have been lost so miserably."
This sentence caused Professor McGonagall's expression to change slightly.
"A prophecy is merely a direction, a possibility, not a predetermined fact."
Selina walked forward and picked up a student list from the table, her fingertips gently gliding over it: "And it is precisely because of this that we need to check and re-examine again and again."
A complex emotion flashed in Albus Dumbledore's eyes, his deep gaze fixed on Selina's nonchalant face.
This legendary Principal did not say anything more, merely sighing softly, then said in a voice that carried a faint weariness yet was full of authority:
"Then I hope this is the last time."
"Professor Selina, Hogwarts is a school, not an interrogation room for the Ministry of Magic."
"The education and safety of students will always be our top priority."
---
Jerry walked out of the classroom, and the bright light in the hallway made him narrow his eyes slightly.
His gaze immediately fell upon Cassandra, who was waiting not far away.
The moment their eyes met, Cassandra's pupils visibly contracted.
She saw Jerry walk out unharmed, his face even wearing a hint of polite calmness, as if he had only gone to answer a few simple questions.
This caused the expression she had prepared to deal with various situations to freeze on her face.
He passed?
He actually passed the Ministry of Magic's lie-detection spell and the Divination Wizard's investigation?
How is that possible?
A storm raged within Cassandra's heart, but on the surface, she tried her best to maintain her composure.
Cassandra just quickly averted her gaze, pretending to be concerned about other students nearby, but her slightly whitened fingers betrayed her panic at that moment.
Cassandra's heart was sinking continuously; her last hope had been dashed.
If Jerry was not a Dark Wizard, then the high bounty Selinahad promised would vanish like a bubble.
And without that money, her boyfriend's funds for next month would not be covered.
A vicious and desperate thought began to sprout wildly in her mind. Since one path was blocked, she would have to take another...
Cassandra's gaze, with a cold, value-assessing scrutiny, slowly landed on Catherine.
Catherine was her best friend, and she knew all of Catherine's "little secrets," including how she was "kept" by Jerry.
A bitterness mixed with jealousy and guilt surged into her heart.
Cassandra said to herself in her heart: I'm sorry, Catherine.
Just a hush money payment, a payment sufficient to solve all her problems.
If Catherine didn't pay, then she would expose this matter.
Let everyone know how the Slytherin Deputy Prefect had willingly become the plaything of a first-year student.
Cassandra knew that once she did this, the friendship they had shared for years would be completely destroyed.
But between her boyfriend and her friend, she no longer had a choice.
Cassandra withdrew her gaze from Catherine and let it fall upon her own fingertips, where the long, slender index and middle fingers seemed to still feel the sensation of the delicate cigarette that no longer existed.
Cassandra's nails were painted with a deep wine-red polish, which complemented her slightly Gothic-style makeup perfectly.
Cassandra reached out, habitually extending her hand toward the deep pocket of her wizarding robes, where she usually kept a cigarette case adorned with black tassels, as well as a small bottle of perfume used to mask the smell of tobacco—a cheap perfume with a cold, woody scent.
Catherine sensed the cold and complex gaze of her friend beside her; she turned her head with concern and asked softly, "Cassandra, what's wrong?"
"Your complexion looks so terrible, are you feeling unwell?"
Chapter 66
Or is there something you need my help with?"
Catherine's sincere concern, however, felt like a red-hot iron rod at this moment, burning a sharp pain into Cassandra's heart.
She quickly averted her gaze and shook her head, her voice slightly hoarse. "It's nothing, just... I don't have much of an appetite."
Cassandra put down her knife and fork and stood up from her seat. "I'm full. I'll go out for some fresh air."
With that, Cassandra quickly left the noisy Great Hallwithout looking back.
Cassandra expertly navigated through several corridors and arrived at a deserted, abandoned observatory terrace.
This was her secret smoking spot.
Cassandra leaned against the cold stone railing, pulled an exquisite cigarette case from the inner pocket of her robes, took out a long, slender cigarette, and lit it with a Non-verbal Spell.
Taking a deep drag, the harsh smoke rushed into her lungs, slightly relaxing her nerves which had been twitching from tension.
Staring at the silhouette of the Forbidden Forest in the distance, she rehearsed in her mind over and over how to bring it up, and how to most effectively blackmail her best friend for that huge sum of money that would relieve her from her desperate plight.
A soft sound of footsteps came from behind, interrupting her thoughts.
"I knew you'd be here," came Catherine's voice.
Cassandra didn't look back, only taking another drag of her cigarette.
Catherine had followed her, which saved her the trouble of finding an excuse to ask her out.
The opportunity was right before her; she had to seize it.
"Smoke less, it's bad for your health."
Catherine walked up to her side. Without any judgment, she merely offered a soft word of advice, then leaned against the railing just like her, looking out into the distance.
"Do you remember?
In our second year, right here, we secretly turned Filch's cat's fur pink, and as a result, Professor Snape made us polish the trophy room for a whole month."
Catherine's voice carried a nostalgic smile as she began to talk about all the fun things they had experienced together—those carefree, laughter-filled times.
Cassandra listened in silence, the cherry of her cigarette glowing and dimming between her fingers. The guilt of her impending betrayal of their friendship wrapped around her heart like vines, squeezing until she could barely breathe.
Just as Cassandra was on the verge of wavering, Catherineshifted the topic.
"Cass!" Her voice grew serious. "I know you've been in a bad mood lately because of Orion, right?"
"Do you really think he loves you?"
Catherine's voice was full of worry. "Aside from whispering sweet nothings, what has he ever done for you?
He's just constantly taking money from you!
You gave him your pocket money, and you even sold the jewelry your mother left you for him!
He is simply deceiving and using you!"
"You don't know anything!"
Cassandra was finally provoked. She slammed the half-burnt cigarette butt onto the ground and ground it out fiercely with the tip of her shoe, as if venting her inner frenzy.
"What do you know?
Orion has dreams!
He just needs a little funding to realize his great plan!
It's for our future!"
"A great plan?"
Catherine's volume rose a bit as well, her voice tinged with deep sorrow.
"His great plan is to have you cough up money for him to squander time and time again?
Cass, wake up!
Have you ever thought that every so-called 'investment' he talks about will only end up as a bottomless pit for you to fill?!"
"Shut up!"
Cassandra trembled with rage, her eyes bloodshot.
"Do you think you're so noble?
At least I'm sacrificing for love, for our shared future!
What about you? Behind everyone's back, you're secretly fooling around with that first-year little monster! Did you think nobody knew?!"
"I am not fooling around with him!"
A flash of panic crossed Catherine's face, but it was quickly replaced by a look of determination.
"That is my private business. What does it have to do with Orion deceiving you?
At least I didn't sell myself out for money!"
"Sell yourself out?"
Cassandra laughed mockingly as if she had heard the biggest joke in the world, her laughter sharp and grating.
"You say I sold myself out?
Then where is your nobility, Catherine?
Slytherin's Deputy Prefect, actually lying obediently in a first-year brat's bed, letting him do whatever he wants to you!
What is that? Is that not selling yourself out?
Is that not being a kept woman?"
Catherine's face instantly filled with killing intent. She never expected Cassandra to say such things.
The secret she had been so carefully guarding was brutally torn open like a scar, exposed to the bloody air.
Shame, anger, and the agonizing pain of being betrayed by the person closest to her made her chest tighten in suffocation.
"Cassandra!"
Catherine's voice betrayed an unbelievable despair. "Do you know what you are saying?
That is slander!
How could you attack me with such words?"
"Slander?"
Cassandra took a step forward, almost pressing into Catherine's face, her bloodshot eyes filled with madness: "Whether it is slander or not, you and I both know the truth!
Did you think you hid it well?
I saw him pinning you to the ground with my own eyes, like a ragdoll!
Did you think you were being discreet?
Did you think I didn't know about your 'pleasure'?
Or do you just particularly love eating... his cock!"
Cassandra's words were like poisoned daggers, precisely and mercilessly carving open Catherine's deepest wound.
The humiliation and secrets forced into the depths of her heart were so brutally torn apart in public, instantly igniting something hidden deep within her bloodline.
On Catherine's face, the pain and despair born of betrayal faded completely within a single second.
In its place was a bone-chilling, absolute calmness that Cassandra had never seen before.
Her eyes changed. She was no longer the gentle, worried friend, but an apex predator locking onto its prey in the dark of night.
A cold wave of killing intent emanated from her without warning.
"Say that again."
Catherine's voice was very soft, yet it carried a chill that seemed to freeze the surrounding air.
Beneath the wide sleeves of Catherine's Wizard robes, a dagger as thin as a cicada's wing and shimmering with a dark light slid down silently, stopping precisely in her palm.
Catherine's grip on the dagger was as practiced and natural as breathing.
If Catherine wanted to, she could completely slit Cassandra's throat with this dagger before she could even react.
Lest anyone forget, Catherine had another identity—a ruthless cat.
Just as her wrist was about to exert force, she paused.
It was as if a silent command, or a cold thought, echoed directly in the depths of her mind.
That freezing killing intent vanished without a trace in an instant, so fast it was as if it had never existed.
Catherine let go of the dagger, allowing it to slide silently back into her sleeve.
Looking at Cassandra before her, a strange smile actually curled at the corners of her mouth—one tinged with a hint of pity and playfulness.
What a fool,
Catherine thought.
She doesn't even know what kind of entity she is talking to.
"You want money, don't you?"
Catherine's tone returned to calm, even cheerful, as if everything just now had been nothing but Cassandra's hallucination.
Cassandra was taken aback by this sudden turn of events and nodded subconsciously.
The threat of death from just a moment ago had chilled her to the bone, but Catherine's change in attitude reignited her hope—perhaps her threat had worked?
"How much do you want?" Catherine asked with great interest, as if teasing an ignorant mouse.
Cassandra's greed overpowered her remaining fear. She tremblingly extended five fingers and said in a hoarse voice, "Five hundred... five hundred Galleons!
Give me five hundred Galleons, and I'll act like I saw nothing and know nothing!"
"Five hundred?" Catherine chuckled and nodded. "Sure."
From the inner pocket of her robes, she pulled out an exquisite small pouch cast with an Undetectable Extension Charm and casually threw it at Cassandra's feet.
The pouch landed on the stone floor, making a heavy clinking sound of gold coins.
"There are one hundred Galleons in here!"
Catherine's tone was full of amusement. "Consider it a... deposit to keep your mouth shut."
Cassandra eagerly picked up the money bag. Opening it, she saw that it indeed contained glittering gold coins.
A wave of immense ecstasy surged in her heart.
"What about the rest?" Cassandra asked urgently.
Catherine took another item out of her pocket—a smooth snapshot stone—and threw it beside the money bag as well.
"Getting the remaining four hundred Galleons is very simple."
Catherine's voice was full of temptation. "Take some footage of yourself in your underwear, posing provocatively, and give it to me.
Don't think about fooling me. The moves have to be slutty enough, and the expressions cheap enough, to be worth this price."
Her words made Cassandra's face turn from red to white, and then from white to green.
"You don't need to feel wronged either."
Catherine took two steps forward, looking down at her with eyes full of playfulness. "Actually, even if you spread my business around, it doesn't matter.
I still have endless money, and the school won't expel me over such a 'minor matter'.
At most, it'll just be some gossip, and after a while, no one will remember."
She leaned in close to Cassandra's ear and whispered the most lethal words in a voice only the two of them could hear:
"But you... a bitch who blackmails her best friend, and... all those pathetic, simp-like things you did for Orion. If I 'accidentally' let that slip... do you think your snobbish boyfriend would still want you?"
Catherine stood up straight, looking at Cassandra's face, which was distorted with fear and humiliation, and let out a string of bell-like laughter.
"Hehehe!"
Catherine turned and walked away, the crisp, rhythmic clicking of her high heels on the stone slabs sounding like a triumphal song of victory.
She didn't look back once at her former friend who stood there, her face as pale as paper.
Turning a dark corner, a thin, small figure was leaning quietly in the shadow of the wall, as if merging with the darkness.
Chapter 67
It was Jerry.
The moment she saw him, the cold, playful smile on Catherine's face vanished without a trace.
It was replaced by an expression of infinite grievance and a desire for comfort, like a kitten that had been bullied outside and returned home to its master.
Jerry didn't speak, but simply opened his arms to her.
The next second, Catherine quickly stepped forward, bent down, and effortlessly lifted Jerry entirely from the ground with her arms.
She was tall and voluptuous, while Jerry's figure was still youthful. Held in her arms, his feet off the ground, his head was perfectly nestled against her soft chest.
This immense physical contrast, however, created a peculiar, inverted scene at this moment.
Jerry's cheeks were pressed against her ample breasts, feeling their astonishing elasticity and warmth.
Jerry unceremoniously buried his face, taking a deep breath of air imbued with a maiden's scent.
Catherine leaned down, found his lips, and they began to kiss passionately in the dim corridor.
Her kiss was tinged with eagerness and flattery; her tongue skillfully pried open Jerry's teeth, intertwining with his tongue, sucking, and exchanging their saliva.
Meanwhile, Jerry freed one hand and skillfully reached into her voluminous Wizards' Robe, accurately grasping the full, perky snow peak of her breast, unrestrained by clothing.
He mercilessly kneaded it with force.
The soft, elastic fat changed various shapes in his palm, and his fingertips could even clearly feel the bud at the tip, which had long since hardened with excitement.
"Mm..." Catherine's kiss became somewhat intermittent due to this rough caress, and a satisfied moan escaped her throat.
While kissing her, Jerry murmured indistinctly in her ear, a hint of laughter in his voice: "My kitten, how long do you think Cassandra will give you that snapshot stone?"
Catherine steadily supported Jerry's buttocks with one arm, holding him even tighter, pressing his entire body against her burning form.
Catherine's other hand was not idle; it slid down the inside of Jerry's thigh, slipped into his trousers, and gently grasped his two warm testicles, rubbing and toying with them with her fingertips.
While delicately licking Jerry's chin and neck with her tongue, leaving wet traces, Catherine replied in a sticky voice: "Soon... very soon, my Little Pervert Master..."
Catherine's breathing quickened, her body trembling slightly, "Leave this matter to me. I will make her kneel at your feet like the lowest bitch.
My Little Pervert Master... consider it... my gift to you, alright?"
Jerry smiled contentedly, no longer speaking, but responding to her loyalty with action.
He reached out his hands and unbuttoned the front of her Wizards' Robe, then the buttons of the shirt underneath.
As the clothes opened, the astonishingly white hemispheres, uplifted and squeezed by a tight corset, were exposed to the air, their two rosy tips already hard as stone.
Catherine understood, leaning back slightly against the cold wall while holding his body, providing a stable support for his next actions.
She adjusted her posture, actively thrusting her chest forward, bringing her ample breasts closer to Jerry's lower body.
Jerry unceremoniously unzipped his trousers, releasing his fully awakened and erect meat root.
He gripped its base, aiming the scorching head at the deep, soft cleavage of Catherine's chest.
"Mm..."
When the hot tip of his flesh touched the skin of her chest, Catherine let out an uncontrollable gasp.
She actively tightened her arms, clamping the fiery shaft tightly with the soft flesh of her breasts.
"Ah... Master..."
She tilted her head back, her neck forming an elegant curve, her eyes hazy as she looked at Jerry's youthful yet commanding face.
Jerry began to thrust his hips slowly and powerfully.
That meat root, quite considerable in size for his age, began to slide between the two soft, slippery snow peaks.
Each thrust caused Catherine's ample breasts to shake and deform violently, while the head of the meat root at the tip repeatedly rubbed and ground against her soft skin.
"Puchi... puchi... mmm ah..."
Accompanied by sticky, wet sounds.
Catherine's moans became increasingly seductive and bone-melting. Holding Jerry's body, she actively cooperated with his movements, using her pectoral muscles to clench and suck the invading meat blade.
"Oh... so good... Master's... so big... it's filling my breasts... ah ha..."
Her breathing grew more rapid, her face flushed with passion, and her body constantly twitched slightly from pleasure.
Jerry sped up, each thrust fierce and deep, then quickly withdrawing, bringing forth a glistening liquid.
Her snow peaks swayed back and forth from his impact, slapping against his lower abdomen with crisp "pa-pa" sounds.
Catherine's cries grew more excited, filled with the ultimate pleasure of a female being conquered.
"It's coming... Master... it's... ah ah!"
Just as Jerry was about to reach his climax, Catherineseemed to possess a beast-like intuition.
Catherine felt the small body in her arms suddenly tense, and his breathing grew heavy.
Without the slightest hesitation, Catherine slightly adjusted the angle of her arms, lowering him by half a point.
This movement allowed her to easily tilt her head back.
From an observer's perspective, this scene was full of intense visual impact: the tall, maturely curved Catherine, holding a much smaller boy in her arms, now tilted her graceful neck back, actively bringing her mouth to the base of the rampant, engorged meat root ravaging her breasts.
Her lips parted, her tongue slightly extended, like a flower awaiting dew, or a most devout believer, preparing to receive the deity's blessing.
Jerry let out a muffled groan, his body suddenly thrusting forward.
Almost simultaneously, Catherine's mouth accurately met it.
The hot, strongly pungent liquid was caught entirely in her mouth, not a single drop wasted.
The powerful impact caused her tilted head to jerk back slightly.
Catherine did not swallow immediately, but held the mouthful of essence, making a "gurgle... gurgle..." sound in her throat, savoring the vital essence of her master.
Catherine's cheeks puffed out slightly, her hazy eyes narrowing in satisfaction, looking at Jerry, who was close at hand and trembling slightly from extreme pleasure.
Then, Catherine's throat bobbed, and she swallowed the thick liquid in large gulps.
Even a few drops, due to her eagerness, overflowed from the corners of her mouth, sliding down her smooth chin to her long neck, leaving a glistening trail.
After swallowing, Catherine was still not satisfied. She extended her tongue, carefully licking clean the residue from the corners of her mouth, then raised her head again, using the tip of her tongue to meticulously clean the top of the already softening meat root in circles.
Having done all this, Catherine finally raised her face, flushed with desire, a glistening trace at the corner of her mouth, and said in a hoarse, satisfied voice:
"Little Pervert Master... are you satisfied with my performance...?"
Catherine asked softly, her voice filled with a longing for praise.
Jerry had not fully retracted his still warm meat root.
It still pulsed slightly and unwillingly between Catherine's snow-white mounds, now even more alluring with sweat and bodily fluids, as if responding to her question.
"Then you need to take her down faster."
Jerry's tone was calm, with an undeniable firmness: "I don't have much patience."
Chapter 31: Why is there a hole in the wall of the Girls' Lavatory!
As the morning bell echoed melodiously over HogwartsCastle, dispelling the last trace of chill from the corridors, Jerry finally closed the thick ledger in his hand, which appeared to be bound in parchment but was actually Dragon Hide.
After an entire night of sorting, the contents of this ledger, which recorded a century of the Rosier Family's glory and disgrace, had been roughly divided into several clear sections by him.
The largest portion consisted of loans made to other Pure-blood Families.
The sheer volume of the loans and the multitude of entries were enough to show how influential and well-connected the Rosier Family was in the pure-blood circle during its heyday.
Otherwise, those equally self-important families would never have owed such an astonishing amount of wealth.
The remaining portion was lent to Wizards who were then famous or had close personal ties with the Rosier Family.
However, the facts cruelly proved that so-called "closeness" and "friendship" became worthless after the family's power collapsed.
Most of the names in the ledger had become pillars of the wizarding world, but they seemed to have collectively suffered from amnesia, never mentioning these old debts.
Just as Jerry's fingers brushed over the last yellowed page, a cold, emotionless voice sounded directly in the depths of his mind:
[Ding—Host detected to have completed the preliminary inventory of core assets. Long-term mission triggered.]
[Mission Name: Lost Glory]
[Mission Objective: Within 365 days, recover eighty percent of all debts recorded in the Rosier Family ledger.]
[Mission Reward: Based on the total recovered amount, if it exceeds eighty percent, it is considered a success, unlocking the special bloodline ability 'Golden Rule'.]
[Failure Penalty: Host will be stripped of current identity and randomly cast into any 'High-Risk Otherworld' to fend for themselves.]
The cold system prompt faded, but Jerry's face showed no ripples.
Jerry just quietly watched the campus outside the window, which was beginning to stir, a cold smile, utterly unbefitting his age, curling on his lips.
Penalty?
Jerry hadn't even considered it.
Jerry only saw the immensely generous reward.
One year to make those pure-blood nobles and elite Wizards, who had long regarded this wealth as their own, spit out the meat they had eaten, principal and interest.
That sounded like a very interesting thing to do.
Jerry's fingertips tapped lightly on the rough cover of the ledger, making a dull, rhythmic sound.
The smile at the corner of Jerry's mouth was cold, yet carried a hint of pure pleasure.
Jerry pulled out a brand new, blank piece of parchment from his desk drawer.
The pristine whiteness of this parchment contrasted sharply with the yellowed, aged texture of the ledger's inner pages.
A silent sticking charm, with a light tap of his wand tip, firmly attached this blank paper to the last page of the ledger.
It was like a brand new chapter, waiting for the writer to imbue it with content.
Jerry unscrewed a bottle of ink and dipped the tip of his quill into it.
The pen tip glided across the new paper, leaving smooth and elegant ink strokes that formed a name:
Cassandra.
Jerry looked at the name as if admiring a perfect work of art.
The old ledger recorded the past of the Rosier Family, the debts owed by others that needed to be recovered.
And this new page would be personally written by him for the future, recording those "new debtors" who, actively or passively, pledged everything to him.
Cassandra was this first "investment."
Jerry believed that before long, this ledger, symbolizing the family's history, would become thicker and heavier because of him.
Just as he closed the ledger, a hurried and forceful knocking sound rang out, almost shattering the door.
"Jerry, hurry!"
Draco Malfoy's distinctive, drawn-out yet barely concealed excited shout came from outside the door: "This year's Wizards' Chess Tournament is going to be held at Hogwarts!"
Before his words had faded, a dull, rhythmic tremor emanated from deep underground.
At first it was faint, but it quickly grew violent, as if some sky-piercing Giant was rapidly moving step by step outside the Castle.
Dust sifted down from the stone walls of the room, and even the ink bottle on the desk swayed slightly.
Jerry put away the ledger, his face expressionless, and got up to open the door.
Malfoy stood excitedly at the doorway, followed by several other Slytherin young Wizards who also looked curious.
"Did you feel that? The commotion!"
Malfoy's eyes were shining. "Quick, let's go see!"
The group followed the bustling crowd in the Castle, passing through the chilly dungeons and ascending to the open area outside the Castle.
The morning mist had not yet completely dispersed, but the sight before them made everyone stop in their tracks and gasp.
On the familiar grass next to the nearby Quidditch Pitch, dozens of towering behemoths had inexplicably appeared.
They were Giant statues of Wizards' Chess pieces.
Each was carved from massive rock, their height even surpassing the trees surrounding the field.
Majestic Kings, Queens holding scepters, Knights in heavy armor riding colossal stone horses, and Rooks like small fortresses.
They stood silently, their surfaces covered with ancient weather marks. Though motionless, they exuded a chilling, heavy, and immense sense of oppression, casting huge shadows in the morning light.