Lunch was over quickly.
Katherine elegantly wiped her mouth with a napkin. Beneath the tablecloth, a slight commotion stirred, and Cassandra slithered out from the darkness like a startled snake, sitting back in her chair with her head lowered and silent.
Her face was pale and her lips were swollen, but she had already tidied her robes; aside from the faint, lingering musky scent of sex on her breath, there was nothing unusual about her appearance.
Katherine placed the money order on the table and said to Cassandra, "Don't you dare take it off. It has my curse mark on it; if you remove it, I'll know!"
Jerry wiped his mouth, gestured to Katherine, and they stood up together to leave the noisy Great Hall.
They left Cassandra sitting alone in her original spot.
There was no official schedule for the Wizard Chess tournament today, but Hogwarts did not quiet down because of it.
On the contrary, when they stepped out of the castle, a wave of even more feverish bustle hit them.
On the massive open ground next to the Quidditch pitch, a grand-scale engineering project was underway.
A large number of wizards were waving their wands in unison, directing those gargantuan Wizard Chess pieces.
Each piece was like a small mountain, levitated by charms and moving slowly through the air.
Many other wizards flew around these pieces like industrious worker bees, using the tips of their wands to spray them with brilliant, colorful coatings.
Golden crowns for the Kings, silver armor for the Knights, and jewel-encrusted miters for the Bishops... all flashed dazzlingly in the sunlight.
Further away, giants standing seventy or eighty meters tall used their massive palms to assemble heavy stones and wooden planks into high stands.
It was said these giants were all "borrowed" from a certain pure-blood family's world-farm nearby; they were herding slave-laborers, but now they were silently and efficiently executing the wizards' commands.
A gargantuan chessboard was taking shape, surrounded by a sea of seats that wrapped around it in layers like a Roman Colosseum.
Starting tomorrow, every match of the Round of 16 would take place here, featuring live duels with these massive pieces.
The Slytherin first-years had no classes in the afternoon. Malfoy and his group of freshmen had already grown restless and headed to the town next to Hogwarts in a group.
Because of the tournament, the town had undergone a transformation; it was heard that the streets were incredibly lively, with plenty of Wizard Chess merchandise for sale.
Of course, Malfoy's primary goal was to promote their betting pool.
With the Round of 16 starting tomorrow, even more wizards would be arriving from the outside. He was bold and wanted to earn more, so after discussing it with Jerry, he took his people to town to expand the business.
Jerry should have gone for a stroll as well; after all, the town looked the same as always when he had dinner there that night.
But unfortunately, Jerry had more important things to attend to.
He said goodbye to Katherine at the corridor junction.
Katherine and the other seventh-year students had classes in the afternoon.
After all, they were fast approaching the N.E.W.T.s (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests), and if they failed, it wouldn't be as simple as just repeating a year.
Jerry walked toward the third floor alone.
After parting ways with Katherine, Jerry headed for the third floor.
The seventh-year students still had classes this afternoon.
After all, they were about to face the N.E.W.T.s that would decide their future fates; failing wasn't just about repeating a grade, it would likely affect their chances of entering the Ministry of Magic or finding a decent job in the wizarding world.
The staircase to the third floor was narrower than those below, and there were fewer people walking on it.
When Jerry stepped onto the carpeted corridor of the third floor, the noise from below was almost completely cut off, leaving the surroundings in total silence.
Jerry soon found his destination—the third-floor girls' washroom.
Pushing open the heavy door with its brass handle, the scene inside was completely different from the one on the first floor.
The space was much smaller, appearing more compact and private.
The floor was no longer cold stone but smooth black-and-white marble tiles, polished until they were spotless, clearly reflecting the few magical lamps on the ceiling that emitted a soft glow.
The faucets on the vanity were not ordinary iron but gleaming brass, elegantly shaped.
The air lacked the damp, musty smell of disinfectant from the first floor, replaced by a faint fragrance like premium essential oils mixed with steam.
This place was specifically reserved for professors, female staff, and student leaders like House Prefects.
Ordinary young wizards wouldn't bother climbing so many stairs just to wash up or use the toilet, so there wasn't a single bit of graffiti on the walls; everything was maintained with the cleanliness and decency unique to the adult world.
Deep within the washroom, there was a frosted glass door.
From behind the door came the faint sound of dripping water and even denser, humid steam.
Evidently, that was the women's bathhouse, accessible only to those with specific status.
However, although it looked clean, Jerry noticed some overlooked details upon closer inspection.
A thin layer of dust had settled at the joints where the vanity met the wall, at the bottom of the stall doors, and along the corners of the windowsills.
To a wizard used to making everything gleam like new with magic, this level of dust was a sign of neglect.
Jerry didn't think much of it, assuming it was just a rare oversight by the house-elves.
Jerry drew his wand from his robes and pointed it at one of the dusty corners, intending to solve the problem with a simple Scourgify charm.
However, when Jerry whispered the incantation, the expected cleaning white light did not appear.
The tip of the wand merely flickered weakly, like a damp match, and then went silent.
Jerry frowned slightly. Thinking he had been distracted, he concentrated and tried again.
The result was the same.
The weak ripple of magic dissipated into the air the moment it left his wand, as if absorbed by an invisible barrier.
Jerry put down his wand, walked to the entrance, and lightly brushed his fingers across the stone wall above the door frame.
His fingertips felt extremely shallow engravings that were almost integrated into the stone.
Runes. A fairly ancient and complex array used to suppress the flow of magic.
Jerry understood immediately.
No wonder Professor McGonagall had assigned him, Elizabeth, and Cressida to clean this place.
An Anti-Magic Field had been set up here; any cleaning spells were useless.
In other words, they could only clean using the most primitive, traditional Muggle methods—with rags, mops, and buckets.
Of course, this kind of anti-magic barrier wasn't impossible to break through by force, but if Jerry guessed correctly, forcing it would trigger a piercing alarm... likely loud enough for all of Hogwarts to hear.
Jerry rolled his eyes disrespectfully at the glowing magic lamp on the ceiling.
Well, it looked like there would be no slacking off today.
Jerry stopped complaining and turned to find an inconspicuous compartment door built into the wall on one side of the washroom.
Opening it, he found Muggle cleaning tools like buckets, mops, and rags neatly arranged, along with a wooden sign that said: "Cleaning in Progress, Do Not Enter."
Jerry took out the sign first, then patiently knocked on every stall door in the washroom.
Knock, knock, knock.
The crisp sound of knocking echoed in the quiet room, but there was no response from behind any door.
After confirming no one was inside, he walked to the main door and hung the wooden sign on the brass handle outside.
Having done all this, Jerry returned to the vanity.
He unbuttoned his robe, which was embroidered with the silver-and-green snake crest of Slytherin; the soft fabric made a slight rustling sound.
Jerry didn't fold it, just tossed it onto the dry, smooth marble counter, followed by his trousers and shirt.
Soon, he was wearing only a pair of snug underwear.
The youth's raw body was exposed under the soft magical light, his skin glowing with a healthy tone.
Jerry pulled a bucket from the closet, walked to the brass faucet, and turned it on; clear water splashed into the bucket with a cool spray.
The tight underwear wasn't enough to hide much.
On the contrary, after being slightly dampened by the humid steam of the washroom, the thin cotton fabric clung even tighter to his skin, outlining the shape of his cock with absolute clarity.
The plump, hard object, even in a state between flaccid and erect, already possessed considerable mass.
One could clearly see how the slightly upturned head pushed the fabric into a rounded curve, while the thick base below extended downward, forming a heavy bulge at the root of his thighs.
When Jerry bent over to lift the full bucket of water, his thigh and abdominal muscles tensed, pulling the fabric of his underwear even tighter.
The contour of the member became even more shamelessly prominent, with a few winding veins visible even through the thin layer of cloth.
Jerry held the bucket in one hand and a rag in the other, unhurriedly wiping the marble vanity while humming an unknown tune.
The water stains were wiped away, and the smooth surface reflected his nearly naked body, carrying the raw, youthful essence of a teenage boy.
Jerry looked at himself in the mirror, mumbling about another matter in his mind.
Professor McGonagall said she was punishing the three of them, but according to the seventh-year schedule, by the time Elizabeth and Cressida finished class and came here, he would have likely cleaned the place spotless.
In name, it was a punishment for three, but in reality, it was just him doing all the work.
Thinking of this, Jerry gave his reflection another silent eye-roll.
However, Jerry didn't complain for long, soon turning his attention to more important matters.
Right now, two of the tasks assigned by the system remained unfinished.
One, naturally, was the [Emergency Mission] concerning Cassandra.
He wrung out the rag, squatted down, and began wiping the stall doors.
Based on Cassandra's submissive performance under the table today, Jerry expected this task wouldn't be a major problem.
That goth girl, despite her rebellious exterior, had an internal defense line that was more fragile than he had imagined.
Moreover, to ensure total success, he had already prepared a true "killing blow" for Cassandra—one that would absolutely crush her pride and resistance, causing her to break down completely and become the most loyal bitch at his feet.
As long as this task was completed, not only would the massive threat of Selena be removed, but he would also get a [Random Dark Magic Knowledge Scroll].
If he could win her over completely, there was even a 5% [Ancient Bloodline Awakening] and the title of [Charm Master].
No matter how he calculated it, this was a very profitable deal.
Jerry's fingers, wet with water, methodically wiped the dust from the doors, but the thought of his other task gave him a massive headache.
His rag stopped moving, leaving a faint water trail on the clean door.
On the system mission panel, the title of the second mission stood out—[Melting Point of the Hard Butch].
The goal was blunt and crude: Tame the Gryffindor Prefect, Cressida Vance.
The detailed requirements were even more shocking: within a week, use any necessary means to completely flip her sexual orientation.
The reward for this task was the rare bloodline "Medusa's Gaze," a powerful ability that was exciting just to hear about.
But the penalty for failure... a 20% permanent damage to his magic core and a 50% reduction in his future magic growth limit... that was practically destroying his future.
Jerry watched the numbers on the countdown tick down mercilessly; nearly six hours had passed, yet he still had no idea where to start.
Force?
Threats?
With Cressida's stubborn Gryffindor personality, that would likely backfire.
Seduction?
Jerry was confident in his charm, but that confidence hadn't inflated to the point where he thought he could directly "straighten" a hard butch.
Jerry leaned against the cold wall, allowing water from the wet rag to drip onto the marble floor with crisp "drip-drop" sounds, much like that damn mission countdown.
And unlike with Cassandra, he was almost a blind man this time.
To handle Cassandra, Jerry had Katherine as an excellent inside informant and helper.
But regarding Cressida Vance, as the seventh-year Gryffindor Prefect, Katherine knew almost nothing about her.
The relationship between Slytherin and Gryffindor was like oil and water, and there was even less interaction between the Prefects of the two houses.
The only thing known was that Cressida Vance was a lesbian, and a possessive, jealous "bad" lesbian at that.
"Possessiveness... jealousy..." Jerry muttered the words silently, his eyes narrowing slightly.
To ordinary people, these were dangerous negative emotions.
But to him, they might be the only—and the best—point of entry.
To exploit someone's jealousy, one first had to know what they cared about and who their possessiveness was focused on.
He had to get intelligence first.
Jerry straightened up again and tossed the rag back into the bucket, creating a splash.
He switched to a mop and began cleaning the floor methodically, but his mind was already fully active.
Although he didn't have a good method yet, he at least had a line of thought and a direction.
While mopping the mirror-like marble floor, he sketched out an intelligence network regarding Cressida Vance in his mind.
Just then, the heavy wooden door of the washroom was pushed directly open with a creak.
"Sister, are you sure we are allowed to be here?"
The nervous voice of a young girl came from outside.
Jerry's movement paused; he was currently using a long-handled brush to clean the last toilet in the stalls.
Hearing the voice, he looked up with a bit of impatience, about to say something to remind the newcomers what the sign on the door was for, but the door had already been pushed wide open.
One tall and one small, a woman and a girl, walked in from the outside.
Leading them was an older witch who looked like she had already graduated, wearing a sharp robe that was clearly not a school uniform.
Behind her followed a Hufflepuff little witch who was obviously a first-year freshman, her face full of a timid expression—it was Liliana.
When their eyes met Jerry's—who was wearing only a pair of underwear and holding a toilet brush in the washroom—the air froze instantly.
Liliana's cheeks turned a deep crimson in a flash; she let out a short cry of surprise like a startled rabbit, her eyes darting around frantically but involuntarily drawn to Jerry's nearly unshielded body.
Liliana's gaze lingered for a moment on Jerry's flat, firm abdomen before sliding uncontrollably down to the prominent bulge wrapped in thin fabric, and then darted away as if hit by an electric shock, so ashamed she wished she could sink into the floor.
Liliana's Hufflepuff school robes couldn't hide her already excessively developed breasts, which heaved violently with her panicked breathing.
In contrast, the reaction of her graduated sister, Alicia, was much slower.
She also possessed an impressively proud figure, her mature curves fully revealed under her form-fitting robe.
She merely widened her somewhat dazed eyes, looking at Jerry with curiosity. Her gaze traveled from his foam-covered hands to his bare chest, finally landing on the toilet brush in his hand. Her face was full of pure, unadulterated confusion, as if she were completely unaware of how awkward and improper the scene was.
Jerry showed not a shred of shyness; instead, he straightened his body unhurriedly.
Standing straight, his originally small stature appeared remarkably upright.
The soft magical light spilled over him, outlining the firm, smooth muscle lines of a youth.
Droplets of water slid down his chest, disappearing into the waistband of his underwear.
This movement by Jerry caused the contour tightly wrapped by the fabric between his legs to be exposed even more clearly to the sisters' sight.
Liliana's breathing nearly stopped; she felt her cheeks burning hot enough to ignite, able only to stare dead at the tips of her shoes, her heart thumping like a drum.
At that moment, Jerry's gaze swept over the two of them and landed on the laundry baskets they were carrying.
The baskets contained neatly folded bath towels and clean robes, with bottles and jars of toiletries tucked in beside them.
It looked like they were here to bathe.
Except... Jerry's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
Based on Liliana's year and Alicia's status as a graduate, neither seemed to have the privilege of using this high-level washroom.
Jerry rinsed the toilet brush in the bucket nearby and spoke unhurriedly, his voice steady and clear, breaking the awkward silence: "Hello, ladies. If I recall correctly, I hung a 'Cleaning in Progress' sign on the door."
Liliana immediately lowered her head, apologizing repeatedly in a voice that sounded like she was on the verge of tears: "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! We really didn't see the sign! Sister, let's leave quickly!"
Liliana reached out, trying desperately to grab Alicia's wrist and drag her away from this embarrassing place.
However, Alicia was like a tree with deep roots, motionless.
Not only did Alicia refuse to leave, she actually pouted with a sense of grievance, mumbling in a voice that was less of an explanation and more of a self-muttering complaint: "But... but I haven't bathed in days, I'm practically stinking... if I'm this smelly, I can't play chess properly..."
Alicia paused and added another sentence, as if it were the most natural thing in the world: "Besides, I used to be able to bathe here whenever I wanted. Professor McGonagall gave me her personal permission."
Jerry looked at this strange combination where the younger sister acted like the older one and the older sister acted like an overgrown child, and he truly couldn't help it—he let out a pfft and laughed.
His laughter made the already humiliated Liliana even more mortified, while Alicia tilted her head and looked at him with a face full of incomprehension.
Jerry turned his gaze to the flushed Liliana, who looked ready to cry, and softened his tone: "Forget it. I haven't gotten around to cleaning the bathing area inside anyway. If you don't mind me working out here, go ahead in."
"Okay!"
Alicia responded almost instantly and decisively, a happy smile blooming on her face as if she had received a grand blessing.
Liliana looked at the mist-shrouded bathroom behind the frosted glass door, then peeked at the nearly naked Jerry beside her, her face full of hesitation.
But before she could say anything, Alicia was already carrying her basket and humming a tune, heading straight for the door.
"Sister!"
Liliana stomped her foot but eventually gave up the resistance.
She said a very quick "thank you" to Jerry and then grabbed her skirt to chase after her. Because she was running in a hurry and the smooth marble floor was still wet from Jerry's mopping, her steps made splat-splat sounds.
Jerry leaned against the wall, watching with interest.
The girl's grand chest beneath her school robes bounced violently up and down with her run; those two startling mounds of flesh looked as though they might cause her to lose balance and fall forward at any moment.
Watching her "dribble" past him, Jerry was actually a bit worried she might slip, lose her center of gravity, and do a face-plant.
The frosted glass door soon closed, cutting off his view completely.
Immediately following, from behind the door came the rustling sound of fabric rubbing against skin.
Jerry leaned against the wall, forgetful of moving his mop.
He almost instinctively wanted to raise his hand and use a silent Probing Charm or some similar magic to peek.
After all, Jerry was very curious about the spectacular sight of those lush peaks wrapped under Liliana's robes—the ones that almost burst through her clothes just from running.
Although he had taken the opportunity to secretly touch that incredible softness and elasticity before, seeing it with his own eyes was another matter entirely.
Moreover, there was Alicia inside as well.
Judging by her mature physique, the scale of those two snowy peaks was likely even more grand than Liliana's.
A somewhat wicked thought even popped into Jerry's head: if half of Alicia's volume could be shared with the Patil twins, those two could likely escape the unflattering title of "Airport Runway" immediately.
However, the moment this thought arose, Jerry remembered the damn anti-magic field.
Cursing under his breath, Jerry was forced to abandon his plan of magical voyeurism. He picked up his mop again and continued his cleaning work absentmindedly.
Still, Jerry's ears remained pricked, carefully capturing every subtle sound from the bathroom—the sound of water splashing, accompanied by the sisters' lowered, indistinct conversation.
As steam continued to seep through the door cracks, the scent of premium essential oils was replaced by an even richer aroma of body wash carrying a sweet, floral fruitiness.
This scent acted like invisible tentacles, constantly teasing Jerry's nerves.
Jerry wiped the sweat from his forehead caused by the heat and labor. Looking at the nearby frosted glass door where he could only vaguely see two shadows moving, his Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily.
Jerry decided that "out of sight, out of mind" was best and turned to clean another untouched stall, intending to stay further away from that door.
"Truly curious..."
Just as Jerry turned around, the main washroom door, which had only just closed, rang out with the sound of being pushed open once more.
This time, it wasn't students who entered.
Walking in front was Professor McGonagall, and beside her was a blonde woman Jerry had never seen in the school, but whose aura was exceptionally striking.
The woman wore an elegant sky-blue suit and was also carrying a basket full of toiletries.
She had a beautiful face, carrying a gentleness and composure belonging to a mature woman; she was clearly a well-maintained witch.
This sudden turn of events caused the air in the washroom to freeze.
Professor McGonagall and the blonde woman clearly didn't expect to see a nearly naked Jerry here.
They stopped at the door, staring at Jerry—who was standing in the middle of the washroom wearing only underwear, holding a mop, with sweat on his brow—stunned for a moment.
Professor McGonagall's lips thinned into a stern line, but her scrutinizing gaze, as it swept over Jerry's nearly naked body, inevitably landed on the taut contour of the hard object beneath the fabric that couldn't be fully hidden.
That majestic sight caused McGonagall to instantly recall how, just this morning in her office, this brazen little bastard had knelt between her legs and used his shameless mouth to bring her that long-awaited climax that had nearly cost her her composure.
An extremely subtle, nearly imperceptible smile instinctively tugged at the corner of her mouth.
But it vanished in an instant. After all, there was an outsider present.
Professor McGonagall immediately resumed her impartial Deputy Headmistress persona, her voice stern as she said: "Mr. Rosier, although I ordered you to clean the washroom, I certainly did not authorize you to do so wearing only your underwear."
Hearing the name "Rosier," the blonde woman beside her was first slightly taken aback, then turned a smiling, intrigued look toward Professor McGonagall.
McGonagall gave a slight nod, confirming her suspicion.
The blonde woman instantly burst into a pfft of laughter. She took a step closer and leaned into Professor McGonagall's ear, whispering in a voice only they could hear, laced with a hint of cunning and mischief: "Is it really Lily's son?"
As she spoke, she used the corner of her eye to size up Jerry's bulging lower half.
"I remember perfectly well—back then, Lily complained to us more than once that Old Rosier's thing was so small and thin it couldn't satisfy her at all. Even when she secretly used an Enlargement Charm, it still wasn't enough... so how can her son, this..."
Before she could finish, Professor McGonagall immediately gave her a massive eye-roll and simultaneously reached out, giving the blonde woman's soft waist a hard, stealthy pinch to signal her to stop talking nonsense.
The blonde woman let out an exaggerated gasp, as if caught in a naughty prank.
But instead of restraining herself, she twisted her waist, walked around Professor McGonagall, and stood directly in front of Jerry.
Her gaze slid unashamedly down Jerry's face, past his youthful, firm chest and abdomen.
Finally, it lingered for a moment on the contour pressed prominently against the thin fabric before returning to his eyes with a playful smile.
"Little guy, you can call me Amelia."
Amelia extended a well-maintained right hand toward Jerry. Her voice carried the softness and languor of a mature woman, gently teasing, "You and your father really don't look alike at all."
Facing Amelia's teasing gaze and outstretched hand, Jerry showed no sign of constraint.
He met her gaze openly, reaching out to clasp that soft, boneless hand. Jerry's palm was warm and strong, forming a sharp contrast with Amelia's delicateness.
"Hello, Aunt Amelia!"
"Aunt?"
"Hehe, what a good boy!"
"Alright, stop messing around, Amelia. Go inside."
Professor McGonagall finally couldn't stand it anymore and rolled her eyes impatiently. "Are you going to the Ministry banquet later or not?"
"Hehehe..." Amelia let out a string of silver-bell-like laughter. She withdrew her hand but took the opportunity to ruffle Jerry's hair vigorously, messing up his neatly combed locks. "Don't think about peeking, little guy."
With that, she twisted her hips and walked first into the frosted glass door.
Immediately after, Alicia's somewhat pleasantly surprised greeting came from inside: "Mrs. Fudge!"
Outside the washroom, only Jerry and Professor McGonagall remained for a moment.
Professor McGonagall lagged a step behind.
She first glared fiercely at Jerry, as if in warning, but her subsequent action was the complete opposite.
She quickly slipped off one of her pointed high heels, her smooth foot stepping onto the cool marble floor. Then she took a step forward, and with her toes painted with red nail polish, she hooked neither lightly nor heavily at the base of that thing through the fabric of Jerry's underwear.
A numbing sensation instantly shot up.
"Don't be fooled by her!" Professor McGonagall lowered her voice, leaning close to Jerry to whisper, "That woman is bad news!"
As soon as McGonagall finished speaking and was about to say more, Amelia's head popped out from behind the frosted glass door again.
Her blonde hair was misty with steam, and crystal water droplets hung on her bare shoulders—she had clearly already taken off her clothes.
"Minerva, hurry up! Alicia is here too!"
Amelia called out, but her gaze precisely caught Professor McGonagall's bare foot, which was hurriedly being stuffed back into the high heel.
A knowing, wicked grin immediately appeared at the corner of her mouth.
Professor McGonagall froze on the spot.
She could clearly feel Amelia's playful gaze tickling her cheek like a small feather.
Heat rose uncontrollably from her neck, spreading rapidly to her ears, causing an unnatural flush to appear on McGonagall's perpetually stern face.
Caught in the act!
However, she was Professor McGonagall after all.
In the next second, she forcefully suppressed that fleeting embarrassment.
Minerva quickly shoved her bare foot completely back into the high heel and straightened her back, as if the person who had just used her toes to hook Jerry's underwear and hard object wasn't her at all.
Minerva didn't look at Amelia's teasing smile, nor did she give Jerry another glance.
She simply adjusted the collar of her robe, tilted her chin slightly, and resumed her impartial, unapproachable Deputy Headmistress posture.
Under Amelia's knowing gaze, she walked calmly into the still-swinging frosted glass door.
With a whoosh, she gently closed the door behind her, completely cutting off the inside from the outside.
Jerry shrugged and continued mopping the floor.
But his mind was clearly no longer on cleaning.
Jerry was puzzled. He had clearly hung a "Cleaning in Progress" sign on the door, so why were people still coming in one after another?
Had someone taken the sign down?
Thinking of this, Jerry stopped his work, intending to push the door open and check.
This should have taken only a few seconds.
However, just as Jerry pushed the heavy wooden door open a crack, a warm body slammed into his arms without warning.
A familiar fragrance rushed into his nose. Jerry looked up and saw that the girl who stumbled into his arms from the impact was the Slytherin Prefect, Isabella.
Isabella was nearly a head taller than Jerry.
This sudden collision made her unsteady on her feet, forcing her half a step back, while Jerry grunted from the impact.
"Who is..."
Isabella frowned, about to scold, but when she looked down, she saw Jerry wearing only a pair of underwear.
Her words stopped abruptly, and a layer of anger instantly surfaced on her face.
As a Slytherin Prefect, seeing a nearly naked boy in such a place triggered an immediate strong revulsion and sense of duty as a disciplinarian.
"Rosier? What are you doing here? Dressed like that!"
Isabella's voice was cold, carrying an unquestionable interrogation.
However, before Isabella's anger could fully burn, her gaze involuntarily fell on Jerry's lower body, tightly wrapped in underwear.
That magnificent protruding contour, clearly visible even in a flaccid state, struck the depths of her memory like a lightning bolt.
That inexplicable anger deflated like a popped balloon.
In Isabella's mind, the scene of that night surfaced uncontrollably.
She could even recall the moment after Jerry released, when she had reached out with her fingertip as if possessed, touched the warm, thick liquid, and unintentionally put it in her mouth... that unique, musky taste mixed with a boy's sweat and desire seemed to rise on her tongue again.
Thinking of this, Isabella's originally cold and hard attitude softened instantly.
The look she gave Jerry changed from initial anger and scrutiny to something complex, evasive, and carrying a hidden heat she hadn't noticed herself.
Jerry took a half-step back, creating distance between them. His eyes held no ripples, as if the star-surrounded Prefect of Slytherin before him was no different from a stone by the roadside.
"Senior!"
Jerry spoke, his voice flat and monotone. "Are you also here to sh—"
Jerry paused deliberately, and only after seeing Isabella's expression freeze instantly did he unhurriedly correct himself:
"My mistake, Senior. Are you also here to clean the washroom?"
Anyone could hear the frivolity and insult in these words.
Jerry completely ignored Isabella's suddenly darkening face. He turned sideways on his own, pointing his chin toward the interior of the washroom, his tone like ordering a house-elf:
"Perfect timing.
I've already cleaned half of it. Men and women working together makes the job easier.
Clean up the remaining half."
Jerry paused, his gaze sweeping over the closed frosted glass door, the corner of his mouth hooking into an imperceptible arc.
"However, the bathroom inside is currently in use, so it's not convenient for me to go in.
I'll leave it to you, Senior."
This was no longer alienation, but naked disregard and contempt.
Every word and every look from Jerry clearly told Isabella: I don't put you in my eyes at all.
This cold attitude stung Isabella's proud self-esteem more than any vicious curse.
This was the second time.
This was already the second time Jerry Rosier had treated her with such total disregard.
If one counted the rude act of pressing her under his body the first time, this was the third.
Since entering Hogwarts, she, Isabella, had always been the center of attention, the cold goddess countless people chased, looked up to, or didn't dare to look at directly.
Isabella was used to looks of awe, envy, or jealousy, but she had never experienced this feeling of... being treated like air.
A flame mixed with humiliation and unwillingness instantly shot up from the bottom of Isabella's heart, burning her cheeks hot.
However, Jerry didn't give Isabella any chance to explode.
After saying those words, he turned around directly, as if he had completely forgotten her existence. He picked up the mop from the floor again, bent down, and continued mopping the floor stroke by stroke.
That unhurried movement, that profile focused on cleaning—every detail was like a silent slap to Isabella's face.
Against a favored daughter of heaven like Isabella who had been pampered since childhood, nothing could dismantle her pride more than utter disregard.
To Jerry's surprise, he didn't wait for Isabella to leave in a huff. Instead, he heard her footsteps walking in, and the soft click of the heavy wooden door closing behind her.
The entire washroom was completely sealed once again.
Jerry stopped mopping, straightened up, and turned his head leisurely.
Jerry looked at Isabella's pretty face, flushed with embarrassment and anger, the flat arc still hanging on the corner of his mouth.
He bent down, picked up another unused toilet brush from the bucket nearby, and handed it to her as if bestowing charity.
"Senior, this..."
Jerry stopped before he could finish.
Because Jerry saw that Isabella ignored the brush he offered completely. Instead, she raised her right hand.
A ball of soft but unquestionable white light was lighting up in her fair palm, illuminating her cold face with flickering light and shadow.
What surprised Jerry even more was—the ubiquitous restriction suppressing magic flow had no reaction at this moment.
The light hovered peacefully in Isabella's hand, proving she currently possessed the sole, absolute magical advantage in this washroom.
Jerry's pupils constricted slightly.
Isabella could cast spells ignoring the restriction?
This was either an extremely rare special talent passed down in some ancient pure-blood families, or... she was carrying some powerful magical item that could shield against restrictions.
But in the short moment he was thinking, Isabella moved.
Isabella didn't chant a spell; she simply flicked her wrist lightly, and the ball of white light transformed into several invisible magical ropes, winding toward Jerry's limbs like lightning.
Jerry felt his body tighten, an irresistible force instantly stripping him of control over his body.
The mop in Jerry's hand fell to the ground with a clang. He was like a puppet controlled by strings; his arms were forcibly pulled to the sides, his legs spread slightly, forced into a defenseless, nearly humiliating posture.
Isabella took a step forward. The hand that had been glowing just now grabbed Jerry's neck coldly and powerfully, pushing him backward.
"Mmh!"
Jerry's retreat was blocked by a cold obstacle. He stumbled, his calves hitting the base of a toilet, and he was pressed down mercilessly by this force, sitting heavily on the cold toilet seat.
Because of this violent and sudden movement, the edge of Jerry's already soaked underwear was pulled, and the purple-red head was completely exposed to the cool air of the washroom.
"Are you crazy?"
Jerry's throat was being choked, allowing him only to utter raspy curses. He struggled hard but found the invisible magical ropes motionless. His only fortune was that the ring on his finger was still continuously generating magical resonance with his body; if he forcibly broke through the restriction here, he could still resist.
"Isabella, let me tell you, Professor McGonagall is right inside!
Believe it or not, I'll shout for them to come out right now!"
Facing his threat, Isabella didn't panic at all.
Isabella's hand choking Jerry didn't even use force, merely maintaining a controlling posture.
Her noble, beautiful face was full of the expression of a winner. Listening to Jerry's voice, the corner of Isabella's mouth couldn't help but hook into a mocking smile.
"Tch?"
Isabella tilted her head, as if she had heard an interesting joke. "I just cast the strongest Silencing Charm on this stall. Even if you sing in here, people outside will only think you're concentrating on scrubbing the toilet."
Isabella slowly released her hand, but the magic binding Jerry didn't weaken in the slightest; instead, it pulled him closer.
She stepped back, crossed her arms over her chest, and scrutinized his wretched posture condescendingly.
"Junior, why aren't you arrogant now?"
Isabella said slowly, her eyes full of the pleasure of revenge. "Oh ho ho, I remember..."
She deliberately dragged out her tone, her gaze moving slowly downward.
It landed precisely on the purple-red head peeking out from the edge of Jerry's underwear.
"This place has an anti-magic restriction.
You can't even use a simple Lumos, and you want to call for help?"
"It seems you really are crazy; Cressida was absolutely right..."
Slap!
A crisp sound echoed in the stall.
Isabella didn't wait for him to finish before raising her hand and giving Jerry a hard slap.
Her fair palm knocked his face to the side, a burning sensation appearing rapidly.
"That's payback for pressing me onto the ground like a bitch that night."
Isabella gritted her teeth, her voice filled with shame, anger, and pleasure.
Immediately after, Isabella raised her hand glowing with white light.
On the tip of her index finger, the light converged into a nearly invisible blade.
She pressed this blade gently against Jerry's cheek, sliding it downward with a tenderness bordering on cruelty.
The sensation of magical stinging traveled across Jerry's skin. Although it left no wound, he could clearly feel that if her will deviated even slightly, his face would be instantly sliced open with a cut deep enough to show bone.
"You lowly mudblood scum!" Isabella leaned close to him, her hot breath spraying against his ear: "Dare to ignore my kindness?
Good... I'm going to leave my mark on you today!
From now on, you can only be my little dog!"
Isabella's finger extended continuously downward, the magical fingertip slowly sliding across Jerry's chest.
Wherever it passed, Jerry felt only coldness.
Finally, the dangerous fingertip stopped at the upper edge of his underwear.
Isabella bent down, the smile on her lips filled with the thrill of revenge.
Looking at the cotton fabric that was already bulging, she swiped her fingertip lightly.
Riiip!
The fabric tore in response, as if sliced by the sharpest razor blade.
However, the moment the underwear was cut open, a sudden change occurred.
The massive hard object that had been tightly suppressed by the fabric lost its last restraint. With an amazing elasticity, it sprang out from the tear with a thwack.
Like a stick that had been storing power for a long time, it struck squarely and solidly against Isabella's face as she bent down to look, her face full of a triumphant smile.
Isabella's brain went blank for a moment, with only one thought echoing in her mind.
So big!
That warm, elastic slap to her face caused all of Isabella's thoughts and magic to disconnect.
The white light ropes binding Jerry flickered twice like a filament losing power in her moment of distraction, then dissipated completely into the air.
Now!
Jerry didn't waste this golden opportunity.
He exerted force with his waist and abdomen, flipping over. His body, which had been pressed onto the toilet, lunged like a long-coiled cheetah, violently tackling the still-unreacting Isabella to the ground.
Splash!
Thud!
Isabella's back slammed heavily onto the cold, water-logged tiles, splashing a large spray of water.
The fine-quality wizard robe on her body was soaked through in an instant, clinging tightly to her lovely body curves, outlining heart-stopping arcs.
Before Isabella could struggle to cast a spell, Jerry was already riding on top of her, pinning her arms down firmly with his knees.
Slap!
Slap!
Slap-slap!
Four resounding slaps left Isabella dizzy, her fair cheeks rapidly turning red and swollen.
"Dare call me scum?"
"You damn sow!"
"Wanted to use magic to leave a mark on me!"
Immediately after, Jerry's palm forcefully choked Isabella's slender neck.
"Ugh..."
Isabella's breathing was instantly cut off, her pretty face turning red rapidly from lack of oxygen.
Struggling futilely, her hands were pinned immobile.
Suffocation brought physiological fear, but what made Isabella feel more humiliated was something else.
That long spear, which had just slapped her face and was now fully erect and terrifyingly huge, was currently grinding forcefully over the delicate skin of her neck, leaving a prominent trail all the way to Isabella's chin.
In Isabella's eyes, misted over from lack of oxygen, complex emotions flashed.
Confusion, clarity, disgust, shyness, disbelief, and even a tiny shred of... desire!
Isabella finally seemed to make a decision, or perhaps came to a realization. She directly gave up futile physical struggle, her lips beginning to move slightly, trying to squeeze the syllables needed for casting a spell from her choked throat.
"Sectum..."
Muddled syllables accompanied by hissing sounds were spat out by her with difficulty.
Jerry's eyes went cold.
With almost no hesitation, the hand choking Isabella's neck loosened slightly, allowing Isabella to gasp.
But at the same time, Jerry thrust his hips, aiming the long spear—already swollen to its limit and leaking clear fluid from the tip—at Isabella's mouth, which was open from instinctively gasping for air.
"Mmph!"
Isabella, who had just breathed in fresh air, had no time to react before the purple-red head carrying scorching heat pried open her teeth, roughly filling her oral cavity.
A fishy smell mixed with the boy's body scent and desire instantly filled Isabella's taste buds.
It also prevented Isabella from continuing to make sounds for syllables. The only thing Isabella could do at this moment was to use all her strength to twist her body on the slippery floor, legs kicking weakly, boots making splat-splat water sounds against the ground.
However, the weakness brought by suffocation was still rapidly draining all her strength. Isabella felt her consciousness gradually blurring.
The remaining consciousness was filled with unwillingness.
This boy in front of her, clearly a head shorter than her, was now like an immovable mountain, pinning Isabella firmly beneath him.
And pressed down along with her were her magic, her arrogance, her dignity!
In this moment, they were all smashed to pieces by the meat dragon rampaging in Isabella's mouth.
"Bastard... gurgle... gurgle-gurgle... bas..."
"Get... off... me... bastard..."
"Mmph!"
"Gurgle gurgle..."
Jerry's body was much smaller than Isabella's. Even though he was now fully straddling her, he had to use his knees to pin her shoulders firmly and thrust his waist with force to continuously sprint his long spear into her forced-open mouth.
This posture wasn't easy to exert force in; Jerry almost had to press his entire upper body down to gain enough depth.
But Jerry felt this sensation was excellent.
Jerry could clearly see the expression of this proud Slytherin Prefect—a mix of pain and desire caused by suffocation and pleasure. He could see his own shockingly sized long spear moving in and out of her tight, hot, wet mouth.
Whenever Jerry's thick spear went deep into her throat, completely blocking the windpipe.
Jerry would tighten his fingers, increasing the suffocation.
Isabella's body would immediately stiffen instinctively, her beautiful eyes widening from lack of oxygen, the whites rapidly becoming bloodshot, pupils dilating. Her limbs would twitch uncontrollably, heels scraping futilely on the slippery tiles, making harsh sounds.
Outside the stall, whether it was Professor McGonagall, Amelia, or the Liliana sisters, any of them could walk out of the washroom at any time.
Although the stall had been placed under a Silencing Charm.
But the door was open, so as soon as anyone left the washroom, they would immediately discover the anomaly here.
"Oh... Isabella... Senior!"
While grinding her shoulders with his knees, Jerry desperately thrust his hips upward, ramming the thick long spear into her throat stroke by stroke: "Your slutty little mouth... feels so good..."
Just moments before Isabella's consciousness was about to scatter and her body was on the verge of shock.
Jerry would suddenly pull the spear out mostly, releasing his fingers at the same time.
"Hah!
Ah!"
Precious fresh air surged into her lungs instantly. Isabella let out a broken coughing sound mixed with saliva and panting, her whole person heaving violently like a fish out of water, breathing greedily.
However, this brief fresh air was only for the next deeper torture.
After Jerry let her take a few breaths, the hard object would once again ruthlessly penetrate Isabella's oral cavity, blocking her throat, and a new round of the suffocation game would begin.
Once, twice, three times...
Isabella's resistance gradually turned from intense struggling into an unconscious, rhythmic spasm.
When Jerry's spear thrust in, her body would arch from lack of oxygen; when Jerry pulled out to let her breathe, her body would go limp from the craving for air.
This intense stimulation brought by being repeatedly pulled back from the edge of death caused Isabella's body to produce an unprecedented twisted reaction.
Isabella's waist began to twist involuntarily, legs clamping together, the muscles on her inner thighs trembling uncontrollably.
In the rapid panting after yet another near-suffocation, Isabella's lower abdomen contracted, her body arching upward violently, forming a tense arc.
"Woo woo woo..."
"I don't want it anymore... Je... Jerry... I was wrong..."
Isabella let out muddled whimpers of begging for mercy, instinctively tightening her throat and sucking hard on Jerry's spear, both cheeks sunken deep inward. "They... they're coming out soon..."
Bubbling hot fluid gushed uncontrollably from between Isabella's legs, further darkening the color of her already soaked wizard robes.
It even spread a patch of pale yellow stain on the cold water surface.
She pissed herself.
No!
More than just pissed.
Under the extreme stimulation, Isabella's body yielded first, reaching a climax.
And Jerry clearly reached his limit as well.
Accompanied by a suppressed low growl, Jerry's massive hard object pressed dead against the depths of Isabella's throat. Streams of thick, scalding body fluid, like a dam bursting, sprayed out from within, pouring down the esophagus into Isabella's stomach.
Jerry's volume was simply too massive. Isabella couldn't swallow it in time, nor could she swallow it all; a large amount of fluid backflowed from her stomach to her mouth, filling her entire oral cavity to the brim.
"Stop... stop shooting... woo... ugh... splurt!"
Isabella, still twitching, wanted to beg for mercy, but felt two streams of scalding liquid flow backward up her nasal cavity.
Accompanied by a violent cough from Isabella, thin white lines actually sprayed out from her nostrils just like that.
Jerry propped himself up on Isabella's body, gasping for breath, enjoying the afterglow of the climax.
Suddenly, a pair of soft hands reached from behind him. Those hands gently wrapped around his waist, yet with an unquestionable strength, lifted his entire person slowly upward.
With the lifting of his body, the semi-hard long spear was slowly pulled out of Isabella's mouth with a sticky pop sound, bringing out globs of thick fluid.
Jerry spun around abruptly, and a beautiful face wearing a playful smile came into his view—it was Amelia!
Amelia looked down at Isabella on the ground, whose mouth corners were still trailing white silk.
Then, she moved her gaze back to Jerry's face, whom she was easily holding in mid-air.
"Oh my!"
The smile at the corner of Amelia's mouth deepened: "It seems I've discovered quite an incredible secret, little guy!"