Katherine's talent actually wasn't considered top-tier in their dormitory, which housed the most elite seventh-year girls of Slytherin.
Her family had long since declined, their bloodline's power thinning by the day. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been reduced to robbing remote Gringotts branches or knocking people out in front of Knockturn Alley bars just to survive.
She never mentioned these things to her roommates, but they had been the reality of her life during the past few years' holidays.
However, since the start of this semester, everything had changed.
The first to notice something was amiss were the other three members of the dorm—Isabella Avery, Cassandra Warrington, and Fiona Shafiq, who came from a family of Ministry officials.
The four of them weren't just roommates; they were the seventh-year Vice-Prefects of Slytherin, sharing this four-person dorm that symbolized honor and status.
The changes were glaringly obvious.
First, there were the material changes.
The plain, old wand Katherine used to carry had been replaced by an expensive new staff carved from Purpleheart wood, with a glimmering obsidian inlaid at the base.
The magical items she carried—whether it was an auto-correcting quill or protective alchemical jewelry—were all high-quality pieces that an average student couldn't afford.
What was more concerning was her internal change.
Her understanding of advanced sorcery and the remarkable growth of her mental power—now as deep as a dark pool—made her unrecognizable as the mediocre girl her roommates remembered.
The strangest thing happened yesterday during their internal combat practice.
Katherine's performance still seemed only average; her spells weren't faster than anyone else's, and her defensive barriers didn't look particularly sturdy.
Yet everyone—whether it was Cassandra as her opponent or Isabella and Fiona watching—had a lingering feeling: she was hiding her true strength.
It was a profound sensation, like watching a dragon force itself to curl up and pretend to be a harmless lizard.
Every movement and every surge of mana revealed a sense of ease that felt wrong, as if she could crush her opponent with a mere thought but simply chose not to.
This massive contrast made the already subtle atmosphere in the dorm even more turbulent.
After all, the backgrounds of the four girls were worlds apart.
Isabella Avery was a true child of destiny.
The Avery family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families standing at the apex of the wizarding world.
She was a princess born with a silver spoon in her mouth; she was far ahead in talent, wealth, and status.
Fiona Shafiq represented the backbone of the wizarding world.
Her parents held key positions in the Ministry of Magic. While not a top-tier powerhouse family, they were wealthy, and she had received an elite education since childhood—a standard middle-class young lady.
Katherine and Cassandra, meanwhile, were typical examples of "fallen nobility" within Slytherin.
They held pure-blood titles in name only; their families' glory was a thing of the past, and they had to use their own means to fight for resources and status.
In the past, Katherine had always played a somewhat silent, moderately powerful role in this dorm, needing to depend on the strong to survive.
But now, where did those mysterious changes on her body come from?
Could it be that she had been... taken in by some rich, old wizard?
Yikes.
Katherine didn't care about her roommates' subtle glances; she sat quietly on her bed.
In her hands was an ancient-looking alchemical book that smelled of leather and ink. The obscure alchemical runes and complex structural diagrams made her slender brows knit slightly.
This book from Jerry's private collection was far more profound than any alchemical treatise in the Hogwarts library. Even with Katherine's extraordinary learning ability, she could barely grasp a fraction of it with total concentration.
She had just finished a precise rune-carving exercise. Her mental energy was heavily drained, leaving a wave of emptiness deep in her mind.
Without hesitation, Katherine took a deep blue potion from the cabinet by her bed.
The potion shimmered with a mysterious luster in the dim dorm. It was clearly expensive—three Gold Galleons, enough to buy a whole set of high-quality school robes.
This magic potion, called "Arcane Recovery," could quickly and efficiently restore a wizard's mental power. It was a luxury usually reserved for Ministry Aurors on dangerous missions.
She popped the cork, and the rich aroma of mixed herbs and magical elements filled the air.
Katherine tilted her head back and drained the entire bottle.
The cool liquid slid down her throat, and a refreshing power surged into her mind like a spring tide, dispelling all fatigue and emptiness.
At the same time, the dorm door creaked open.
"Hahaha! Catch me if you can! The little Prefect is so slow!"
Cassandra's wanton laughter was like a bolt of lightning, instantly breaking the silence of the dorm.
She rushed in like a gust of wind, her tall figure carrying the vitality of youth, her eyes full of triumphant mischief.
But before she could say more, Isabella, who followed close behind, covered her mouth.
"Mmph... mmh!" Cassandra protested.
Isabella's face was flushed crimson, her eyes still holding traces of embarrassment. She covered Cassandra's mouth forcefully, her voice as low as a mosquito: "Don't say it! You're not allowed to say it!"
Fiona followed them in, laughing behind her hand at the sight.
Panting, Isabella pushed Cassandra toward the bed, while the latter, having found the fun in the game, dodged and darted in the small space of the dorm.
Fiona was also drawn in, joining the "siege" on Cassandra.
The three girls began to chase and play in the room.
Dodging, Cassandra let out bell-like laughter, nimbly slipping through the gaps between the beds and desks, occasionally letting out provocative mumbles: "Mmph! Isabella, you actually... dare to touch me!"
Isabella kept a stern face, but her reddened ears betrayed her embarrassment.
She reached out to grab Cassandra's arm, trying to pin her down and stop her from saying those heart-pounding things.
"Don't you dare talk nonsense! If you keep it up, I'll tell the professor you climbed out the window to the Forbidden Forest last night!"
Fiona enjoyed the show, smiling as she feigned blocking Cassandra's path, always staying a step slow on purpose to let her slip away. She laughed occasionally, providing a soundtrack to the scene.
Long robes fluttered during the chase, occasionally brushing past Katherine's desk and stirring a breeze.
Their laughter, gasps, and the occasional light thud of a collision filled the room, making the once-cold space overflow with the reckless energy of seventh-year girls.
The chaotic chase reached its climax after a clever dodge by Cassandra.
To escape the "clutches" of Isabella and Fiona attacking from both sides, she leaped onto the nearest bed—Katherine's bed.
"Get her!" Isabella lunged after her.
The soft bed sank deeply under the weight of two people, making a mess of the bedding. Fiona followed immediately, and the three of them tumbled into a pile of laughter and limbs.
Katherine, who had been watching silently, had a flash of amusement in her eyes.
When Cassandra's hand flailed and accidentally knocked her quill off the nightstand, she finally moved.
Katherine didn't speak. She put down her book and, with an unnaturally fast speed, lunged from the side, accurately grabbing Cassandra's thrashing wrists.
Then, she reached out her other hand and began to ruthlessly tickle Cassandra.
"Ah! Haha... Katherine! You... you're cheating!"
Cassandra instantly lost all resistance, turning weak from laughter on the bed.
The tide of battle turned instantly. Seeing this, Isabella and Fiona knowingly joined the "attack" on Cassandra.
The four top girls of Slytherin discarded all their disguises and poise, wrestling on the bed like ordinary girls. Their crisp laughter nearly took the roof off the dorm.
After an unknown amount of time, the playfulness finally subsided.
All four were panting with exhaustion, their hair messy and robes crumpled.
Supporting each other, they eventually lay side-by-side on Cassandra's bed, which was the largest.
For a moment, only the sound of the girls' rapid breathing remained in the dorm.
Isabella's cheeks still bore a post-exercise flush. Fiona lay on her side, propping her head up, staring dazed at the ceiling.
Katherine closed her eyes, seemingly calming her heartbeat.
Cassandra lay on her back, her chest heaving violently.
The wanton, bright smile on her face slowly vanished as her breathing steadied.
Those eyes, usually full of mischief and charm, now lost their focus, staring blankly at the bed curtains above.
The joy from moments ago seemed to be drained away. A layer of deep, hard-to-resolve worry quietly clouded her brow like a mist.
Fiona was the first to break the silence.
She looked at the fading smile on Cassandra's face and asked softly, "What's wrong, Cassandra? Unhappy?"
Cassandra's eyes moved, but she didn't look at anyone, still staring at the dark green curtains embroidered with silver stars.
She twitched the corner of her mouth, trying to force her usual indifferent smile, but failed.
"It's nothing!"
Her voice was a bit dry. "Just thinking about... stuff after graduation."
The atmosphere in the room grew heavy because of those words.
Seventh year, graduation—those two words itself represented the uncertainty of the future.
Katherine, Isabella, and Fiona all knew that Cassandra had a boyfriend who had already graduated, Orion Blackwood.
He used to be a prominent figure in Slytherin, a former male Prefect—capable, with excellent grades, and the object of admiration for countless younger students.
After graduation, Orion used his impeccable resume to secure an internship directly in the Auror Office of the Ministry of Magic.
However, this wasn't just an opportunity; it was a brutal test.
To become a permanent, truly powerful Ministry official, one not only needed to pass the internship assessment but also needed a massive amount of Gold Galleons to grease the palms of the right people, alongside achievements on the frontline that would make superiors take notice.
And Orion's family situation was not enough to support him through this expensive path to power. He was a half-blood wizard with a Muggle-born mother, making him an outlier in Slytherin, which emphasized pure-blood supremacy.
No one knew that to win the favor of this popular senior, Cassandra had spun a massive lie.
She bragged that although the Warrington family's glory had faded, they still had deep roots and great wealth, and that her parents still held high positions in the Ministry.
Orion believed her.
Thus, from the moment he graduated and went to the frontline, all the expensive equipment, supply potions, and "gifts" used to build connections were almost entirely funded by Cassandra.
However, the truth was that Cassandra's parents had both died in the war years ago.
All she possessed was a generous sum of death compensation paid by the Ministry.
That money used to be her only reliance.
And now, to maintain that false lie and support her boyfriend's seemingly bright future, that money... was nearly gone.
She didn't dare imagine what kind of look Orion would give her when he found out she was just an orphan with nothing but a pure-blood title.
She dared even less to imagine how the love she maintained with lies and money would fall apart when she could no longer produce a single Gold Galleon.
This heavy secret weighed on her heart, making the air feel doubly suffocating after their brief playfulness.
Katherine was the first to get up.
She silently slid off Cassandra's bed and returned to her own, picking up the heavy alchemical notes again.
To be honest, although she no longer had to risk her life for a few Galleons, Katherine didn't feel the pressure lessening at all.
That pressure all came from the boy named Jerry Rosier.
Though Jerry was just a boy, in every aspect, he had comprehensively and crushingly surpassed her.
During their days at Blackfeather Castle, spell practice between Katherine and Jerry was a daily requirement, but she had never won—not even once.
That feeling of powerlessness when facing absolute talent nearly shattered all her pride.
Mmh... of course, if she counted those "sneak attacks," she had actually won quite a few times.
Flashes of images ran uncontrollably through Katherine's mind: kneeling before Jerry while he meditated, taking his half-erect cock into her mouth.
Hugging him from behind while he sweated over spell practice, swallowing his two warm, full balls into her mouth to feel their pulse against her tongue...
But those were just jokes!
Katherine shook her head lightly, trying to throw those messy thoughts out of her head, forcing herself to refocus on the complex alchemical notes.
Reading these notes, which condensed the wisdom of ancient alchemical masters, was, in a way, no less difficult or mentally draining than planning a perfect heist of a Gringotts vault.
After only a few pages, that familiar sense of mental emptiness returned.
Katherine reached out again and took another bottle of deep blue "Arcane Recovery" from her nightstand. Without a thought, she popped the cork and downed it.
This movement was caught perfectly by Cassandra, who had just opened her eyes.
Cassandra's pupils constricted slightly.
She recognized that potion.
It was "Arcane Recovery," one of the highest-volume magic recovery potions on the market. Each small bottle was priced at three Gold Galleons, and they were often out of stock.
She was all too familiar with that price.
Because Orion, fighting on the frontline, couldn't get adequate potion supplies from the Ministry; every intense battle drained his mana.
Therefore, almost every month, Cassandra had to grit her teeth and use her remaining compensation money to buy several sets of these expensive potions, sending them to the distant frontline via owl.
That was practically Orion's life.
And now... Katherine, who not long ago had to work part-time just to afford tuition, was drinking this expensive potion—the kind even official Aurors were reluctant to use—like it was water?
Cassandra's brain couldn't quite process it.
How... how was this possible?
Where on earth did Katherine get so much money?
This wasn't just being "well-off"; this was spending money like water!
Katherine seemed to feel Cassandra's gaze. She smiled and held up the alchemical notes: "Do you want to read it too?"
Her smile carried a bit of playfulness, as if she saw through the doubt in Cassandra's heart but had no intention of explaining.
"I'll lend it to you when I'm done!"
She added a sentence and then returned her attention to the notes, as if the previous action was just casual small talk, and that priceless potion in her hand was just ordinary tea.
Cassandra was speechless.
That smile also made her heart itch with unbearable curiosity.
Meanwhile, in the depths of the towering Gryffindor tower, an untimely knock broke the silence of the common room.
Thud, thud, thud!
The sound was loud and rhythmic; clearly, the knocker had no reservations.
The Gryffindor students in the common room looked over.
You see, aside from professors and the very few permitted Prefects, foreign students rarely visited the Gryffindor common room, especially at night.
Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were sitting in comfortable armchairs by the fireplace, with several thick assignments spread on the table.
Hermione Granger was absentmindedly flipping through a book titled A Guide to Advanced Alchemy. Her mind still echoed with that embarrassing scene in the bathroom and the lingering warmth on her fingertips.
The knocking sounded again.
"Who is it!"
Ron complained impatiently, clearly annoyed by the disturbance.
He stood up, walked to the door, and pulled open the portrait of the Fat Lady.
The portrait swung open, revealing the person outside—Jerry Rosier.
He was holding a dirty laundry basket filled with school uniforms and robes that smelled of sweat and potions.
Jerry's face wore a harmless smile, appearing as humble and polite as always: "Good evening, everyone. I'm looking for Miss Granger."
Ron's face darkened instantly. Like a rooster whose tail had been stepped on, he puffed out his chest aggressively: "What do you want with Hermione? She has nothing to say to you!"
Harry Potter stood reservedly behind Ron, his wary gaze fixed on Jerry.
"I just... have a matter I'd like to ask Miss Granger about."
Jerry's smile remained gentle, but in those calm, deep eyes, a hard-to-capture light flashed.
His gaze moved around Ron and accurately found Hermione, who was pretending to read in the corner of the room.
Hermione's body stiffened abruptly.
Her brain was in a mess; the image of the massive thing throbbing, the intimacy in the bathroom... everything surged back into her mind in an instant.
She instinctively wanted to avoid Jerry's gaze, but she was pulled by an indescribable expectation.
Ron clearly didn't notice Hermione's abnormality. He took a step forward, nearly pressing against Jerry, his tone unfriendly: "What can't be said tomorrow? This is Gryffindor territory. What are you up to, coming here uninvited as a Slytherin?"
"I said, it's a private matter."
Jerry's tone remained polite, but there was an undeniable firmness in his green eyes. "Please ask Miss Granger to step out for a moment; it won't take long."
The atmosphere between them became tense.
In the common room, all the Gryffindors put down what they were doing, their eyes focused on the two in the standoff.
Harry also moved forward a bit, showing his support for Ron.
Jerry acted as if he didn't see Ron blocking him, not even sparing him a glance.
His gaze cut across Ron's shoulder, landing directly on Hermione in the corner. She was using a book to hide her face, but her body was positioned unnaturally.
His voice wasn't loud, but it clearly echoed through the quiet common room:
"What, are you planning to break our contract?
I've already taught you how to cast that spell.
Now, it's your turn to wash my clothes, Hermione."
This sentence was like a stone thrown into a calm lake, instantly causing a massive ripple.
Contract?
Teaching spells?
Washing clothes?
These words combined made all the eavesdropping Gryffindors look confused and gossipy.
Ron was even more stunned. The string of curses and questions he had ready got stuck in his throat; he couldn't say a word.
And for Hermione, this sentence was nothing less than a thunderbolt.
She knew Jerry was giving her a way out—a seemingly logical reason to escape this predicament in front of everyone.
But the reason itself was filled with a different kind of ambiguous, heart-pounding implication.
Under the gaze of dozens of eyes, Hermione Granger felt the blood in her face nearly boil.
She slowly put down her book, stood up, and with her head lowered, walked out from the corner step-by-step. She passed through the crowd and came to stand before Jerry.
"You Slytherin mongrel, what nonsense are you talking about..."
Ron finally snapped out of it, his instinct to hurl an insult rising.
But before he could utter a word, Hermione had already reached out and taken the pile of laundry from Jerry's arms.
The moment the fabric landed in her grasp, Hermione felt it clearly—amidst the robes and shirts, right on top, was that pair of dark men's underwear she had seen on Jerry's floor.
She didn't even dare to imagine if the pure white pair was hidden further down in the pile.
Hermione's cheeks burned a shade of red so deep it looked as though she were bleeding; she clutched the clothes to her chest as if they were a hot potato.
Keeping her head low, avoiding Jerry's gaze and the eyes of everyone in the room, she spoke in a voice as thin as a mosquito's hum:
"I... I'll bring them back to you once I've washed and dried them... I..."
"I would truly appreciate that."
Jerry didn't wait for her to finish. He gave a light, crisp clap, a flawless and brilliant smile blooming on his face.
In his eyes, there was a glint of a successful prank that only Hermione could truly decipher.
He turned, offering a polite and elegant nod to the stunned Gryffindor students, acting as if he hadn't just engaged in a tense standoff but had merely attended a friendly tea party.
"Goodnight to you all."
With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the Gryffindor common room with unhurried grace, all while the house watched in silence.
Throughout the entire exit, he didn't spare Ron or Harry Potter so much as a single glance.
If Jerry was incapable of missing Isabella hiding under his bed, then letting Hermione browse through his room was entirely a deliberate part of her training.
It was clear that the young Hermione possessed an incredible capacity for being molded; her lack of knowledge regarding the carnal intimacy between men and women delighted Jerry. This meant that future system missions regarding her "further education" would be significantly easier to execute.
Just then, a system notification chimed deep within Jerry's mind, interrupting his pleasant thoughts.
[Emergency Mission: Peeping]
Mission Description: Katherine's unintended display of extraordinary wealth at Hogwarts has triggered the suspicion of her roommate, Cassandra Warrington.
The Threat: Cassandra is closely tied to Selena, the Head of the Auror Office. Selena has utilized her influence to enter Hogwarts as the Combat Magic Professor. Her primary objective is to target the Rosier bloodline—specifically you—in an attempt to find a weakness and send you to Azkaban.
The Stakes: Given Selena's deep-seated hostility, if Cassandra's suspicions continue to ferment and she provides any leads, Selena will likely find sufficient evidence to destroy you. You must resolve Cassandra's doubts or redirect her attention immediately.
Mission Objective: Eliminate all suspicion and vigilance from Cassandra Warrington as soon as possible.
Rewards:
Basic: One [Random Dark Magic Knowledge Scroll].
Extra: If you successfully pull Cassandra into your faction and turn her into a loyal follower, you will gain +5% Ancient Bloodline Awakening and unlock the title [Charm Master].
Failure Penalty:
You will immediately become the Ministry's Most Wanted, hunted by the Auror Office. All plans will halt, Family Prestige will drop by 200 points, and you will face a year of life as a fugitive with all mission rewards halved.
The suddenness of the mission caused the smile on Jerry's face to stiffen.
Selena. He knew that name all too well.
The hatred and madness in that woman's eyes on the train to Hogwarts remained etched in his memory.
But who was Cassandra?
Jerry didn't recognize the name at all.
Fortunately, the mission briefing specified that she was Katherine's roommate. It seemed his "little kitten" had let her wealth slip, drawing unwanted eyes—a troublesome development indeed.
However, Jerry was far more interested in the "Ancient Bloodline Awakening" reward.
In the wizarding world, "Ancient Bloodline" was a concept as mysterious as it was vital. It referred to pure-blood families with lineages reaching back to deep fusions or contracts with powerful magical creatures, elemental spirits, or ancient arch-wizards.
Such bloodlines contained a source of power far beyond that of ordinary wizards—a higher tier of magical talent and potential.
For a wizard, especially one aspiring to stand at the apex of the magical world, awakening meant shattering the shackles of ordinary magic to touch deeper mysteries. It wasn't just a boost in mana output; it was a fundamental epiphany regarding the nature of magic itself. It unlocked ancestral spells, unique resistances, and bizarre abilities capable of rewriting history.
Pure-blood wizards were esteemed not for their morality, but because "pure-blood" meant their lineage was more likely to maintain the purity and potency of these ancient strengths.
As a member of the ancient House of Rosier, Jerry's blood carried staggering ancient power; it simply needed a catalyst.
For half-bloods, awakening was far more difficult. Dilution meant a dulling of talent, and many ancient powers simply went dormant, never to be found by descendants again. But once a half-blood succeeded, their height often exceeded all expectations, as their blood became a wildcard of infinite possibilities.
Awakening meant Jerry would no longer be limited to common charms and hexes. He would have access to something much darker and far more potent.
Now, Cassandra was not just a threat; if handled correctly, she was his ticket to that power.
Jerry pulled his thoughts back from the distant past and refocused on the reality at hand. This new pawn had disrupted his plans, but it also offered a new path.
As he contemplated his next move, he walked back to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons, passed through the empty halls, and arrived at his dormitory door.
Just as he was about to push it open, he paused.
A sliver of warm light—light he hadn't left on—seeped through the crack in the door.
A faint scent, a mix of tea and a high-end perfume, drifted into the corridor.
Someone was inside.
Jerry's eyes went sharp. His finger instinctively brushed an alchemical trinket at his chest. With a pulse of mana, a hidden defensive array activated, wrapping him in a nearly invisible shield.
But a second later, he identified the scent. His wariness turned into a smirk.
After a moment's hesitation, he deactivated the shield.
He pushed the door open.
What met his eyes was a tall, mature figure with her back to the door.
It wasn't the back of a young girl.
She was standing at his desk, seemingly inspecting the books spread across the surface.
She wore a dark green silk nightgown.
The style was conservative—reaching her ankles, with long sleeves covering her wrists and a high neckline that hid every inch of skin.
Yet, conservative did not mean unappealing.
On the contrary, the smooth, soft material perfectly outlined the voluptuous and enchanting curves unique to a mature woman.
The gown was cinched at her slender waist with a matching silk belt, making the swell of her full breasts above and the round, perky curve of her buttocks below look even more striking.
With her slight movements, the silk rippled in the light like water, flowing over her curves and clinging to every inch of her skin, revealing the "scenery" beneath the fabric in a way that invited deep imagination.
Just from her silhouette, she radiated the composed, elegant aura of a noblewoman accustomed to high status.
Jerry's gaze lingered on that rounded, perky rear for a moment, a knowing smile curling his lips.
Who else could appear in his room at this hour, in such a state, other than the Transfiguration Professor who favored cat-paw lingerie?
"Up so late, Professor McGonagall?"
Jerry closed the door. His voice wasn't loud, but it shattered the silence of the room. "Are you here to check on student discipline... or is there something else?"
At his voice, the mature figure slowly turned around.
Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts and Head of Gryffindor, did not have her usual stern classroom expression.
Her features looked much softer in the lamplight, and those sharp, hawk-like green eyes now held a complex, nameless emotion.
Jerry stepped forward, his gaze landing on the desk.
He realized then that Professor McGonagall had been examining the various magical accessories he had left there.
They were alchemical products he had created using synthesis—rings, pendants, bracelets—each shimmering with a restrained magical glow.
Considering the low risk of danger within the school, Jerry didn't like carrying them all. Despite their negligible weight after alchemical treatment, they were still a hassle.
McGonagall had come specifically to see him. As the best friend of Jerry's late mother, her feelings for the boy were immensely complex. She remembered holding him as an infant, seeing those same green eyes in his swaddling clothes.
But Dumbledore's warnings rang in her ears, making her question if her favoritism was right. Jerry's father was a notorious Death Eater, and his family name was synonymous with Dark Magic.
McGonagall was terrified that the child she had watched grow up would follow his father's path.
So, she had come tonight. Unable to find peace before sleep, she wanted to talk to him, even just casual chatter, hoping to understand his true character.
However, while waiting for him to return, she had stumbled upon a secret that made her heart race.
She didn't answer his question. Instead, she raised her hand and gave a light beckoning motion toward Jerry's wardrobe.
The wardrobe door swung open silently, and an exquisite gift box flew out, hovering in the air. The lid popped open, and that neatly folded pair of cotton panties—the ones with the cute cat-paw pattern—drifted into her hand.
McGonagall looked away from the trinkets and locked her eyes on Jerry's face. Her voice was calm, yet it carried an imperceptible chill.
"Do you like the gift I gave you?"
To be honest, McGonagall herself didn't know why she had acted so frivolously that afternoon, performing an act so completely beneath her status.
But in examining these magical trinkets, she had found her answer.
Jerry had infused these seemingly harmless accessories with an extremely rare and insidious alchemical substance—something with the properties of a "Succubus Crystal."
The substance emitted a faint, nearly undetectable magical ripple that subtly influenced the minds of those nearby, amplifying their hidden desires and causing them to feel an inexplicable attraction and closeness to the owner of the charms.
The discovery made her blood run cold, followed immediately by a surge of rage at being toyed with and manipulated.
Facing McGonagall's hidden fury, Jerry didn't panic.
He took two steps forward, standing directly before her.
The eleven-year-old boy hadn't hit his growth spurt yet; he wasn't tall even among his peers. He had to tilt his head back significantly to see Professor McGonagall's face.
McGonagall, a tall adult woman, looked down at him, their height difference creating a strange and intense visual contrast.
"You're angry, Professor McGonagall."
Jerry spoke, his voice carrying the clarity of youth, yet his tone was as steady as an adult's. "You feel that I used these toys to manipulate your mind, making you do things... inappropriate for your status, correct?"
He didn't deny it. He met the issue head-on, admitting the trinkets' purpose.
"You know the reputation of the Rosier family better than I do."
Jerry's gaze was honest, his green eyes reflecting McGonagall's cold face. "What my father and grandfather did made almost the entire wizarding world hostile toward us. As a Rosier, making friends at Hogwarts—or even just receiving a shred of kindness—is a hundred times harder than for a normal student."
He paused, his voice taking on a touch of calculated helplessness and self-mockery. "I admit, it's a shortcut. A less-than-honorable method. But what else could I do? I can't expect people to cast aside their prejudice and actively try to understand what kind of person a Death Eater's son really is."
Then, his tone shifted abruptly, and his gaze became direct and bold.
"Besides, you might not know this, but I have no interest in power or the Dark Lord's ways."
Jerry's eyes began to roam shamelessly over McGonagall's lithe, nightgown-clad body. "Rather than ruling the world, I prefer... beautiful things."
His gaze slid from her full breasts to her slender waist, finally resting on her aging but still beautiful face.
It was a look that mixed a boy's pure curiosity with a lecherous aggression that defied his age.
Before McGonagall could react to his blatant words, Jerry made an even bolder move.
He reached out and, with a gentle but irresistible motion, took the cat-paw underwear from her hand.
Then, right in front of her, he brought the soft cotton fabric to his nose. He closed his eyes and took a deep, intoxicated breath.
"Mmh... it smells so good."
Jerry opened his eyes, a satisfied smile on his face. "It smells just like you, Professor."
The air in the room seemed to freeze.
McGonagall had never expected a boy to dare treat her with such frivolity or speak such insolent words.
Jerry was like a reckless little carriage attempting to tame a mature, noble, yet secretly wild mare.
The sheer contrast caused McGonagall's mind to go blank for a moment.
She stared at the boy who was more than a head shorter than her, yet whose eyes shone with such startling intensity, and for a moment, she didn't know how to respond.
Should she scold him like a stern professor, or... acquiesce to this absurdity?
McGonagall looked at the boy with a complex expression.
In those clear green eyes, there was undisguised desire, yet it was wrapped in the innocence of a child discovering a new toy. These two conflicting traits merged into a paradoxical whole.
Was this really a disguise? Or was an eleven-year-old child merely expressing his longing for "beauty" in the most primal way he knew?
Her gaze swept the alchemical trinkets on the desk. The craftsmanship was a bit raw, but the magical circuits within were quite exquisite. The "Succubus Crystal" material had been perfectly integrated without causing any magical conflict.
If Jerry had done this alone... his talent was nothing short of terrifying.
Truly a child of the House of Rosier.
A silent sigh passed through McGonagall's heart. She thought of Jerry's mother, Lily. She had been her best friend—a woman equally brilliant and bold in love and hate.
McGonagall had promised her she would look after her son.
If... if she could provide the right guidance...
Or, even if she guided him toward other interests, as long as he didn't become another cold-blooded Rosier Death Eater, she would have done right by Lily's soul.
A bold thought, unlike any she had ever had, took root in her mind.
As she thought this, her body, previously tensed with irritation, slowly relaxed.
A well-maintained hand of a grown woman gently brushed across her own chest. She didn't look at Jerry; her gaze seemed fixed on some void in the air.
Her fingertips undid the first button at the top of her nightgown.
The silk slid softly to the sides, revealing her elegant collarbones and the creamy skin beneath.
Jerry's breath hitched.
McGonagall didn't stop.
The second button, then the third...
The neckline was fully opened, and the pride and fullness of a mature woman, previously tightly bound, finally broke free, revealing heart-stopping curves. Large patches of snowy, full flesh shimmered like ivory in the lamplight.
Finally, she lowered her head, using her deep green eyes to stare at Jerry, who stood a head shorter than her.
In that gaze, there was no more anger, no more confusion. It was stained with a condescending scrutiny that carried absolute dominance.
Then, an invisible ripple of mana spread out, centered on her body.
Jerry watched with wide eyes as the dark green silk nightgown underwent a magical transformation.
It didn't vanish. Instead, it was as if it were being infused with water; the color faded from deep to pale, and the texture shifted from solid to phantom-like.
In just a second or two, the entire gown became a layer of nearly transparent magical gossamer, carrying a faint green tint, draping softly over her perfectly proportioned body.
Now, everything was displayed unreservedly before Jerry.
Those full breasts, shaped perfectly by gravity, hung softly; the two crimson buds at the tips stood slightly erect from the surge of her emotions.
Below her flat, firm stomach was the mysterious area covered by meticulously groomed black hair. Her long, sturdy legs were pressed together without a single gap.
All the beauty and secrets a mature woman possessed were presented to the boy in an incredibly high-impact way.
In a voice that was almost a whisper, yet filled with magnetism, she asked softly:
"Mr. Rosier, in light of your excellent performance in class this morning, this is your reward. Now tell me... which gift do you think is better?"
Her index finger lightly hooked the edge of the transparent nightgown.
The gown clung almost entirely to her alluring form; the curves that had been hidden were now completely visible.
Jerry's Adam's apple bobbed.
He pretended to be mesmerized, staring unblinkingly at the round, full snowy peaks tightly wrapped by the transparent silk on McGonagall's chest.
They stood proud without a hint of sagging, as if containing infinite vitality.
He could see clearly through the thin fabric that her nipples were poking out slightly due to tension or excitement.
"Can I... can I touch it?"
The boy spoke with hesitation, his voice carrying an irrepressible tremor.
The corner of McGonagall's mouth curled slightly.
She didn't answer. She merely gave a light wave of her hand.
The layer of gossamer-thin transparent silk instantly returned to its original state.
The dark green silk became opaque once more, shielding that alluring body entirely and leaving only an exquisite silhouette to stir infinite imagination.
Then, she nimbly plucked the cat-paw underwear from Jerry's hand.
Before Jerry could react, she draped the underwear gently but firmly over his face. The unique scent of tea and the fragrance of a mature woman instantly occupied all of Jerry's senses.
"If you can satisfy me in tomorrow's Transfiguration class!" McGonagall's voice returned to its usual stern yet teasing tone, though her pitch was much lower than before. "Then... it is not impossible. Mr. Rosier!"
She pressed the underwear tighter, blocking Jerry's vision, allowing him only to feel the soft fabric and the lingering scent deep within the threads.
"But today... no."