In the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, sunlight filtered through the tall Gothic windows, casting dappled shadows on the floor.
The air was filled with the mixed scent of disinfectant and clean bedsheets.
Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse known for her gentleness and efficiency, was rushing back from the staff room with a trace of displeasure at being disturbed.
She had just been leaning back in a comfortable armchair, sipping hot tea with honey, and enjoying a wonderful game of Wizard's Chess with relish.
Just as the White Queen was about to checkmate, a school owl suddenly brought an urgent summons from Professor McGonagall.
She pushed open the Hospital Wing doors and saw at a glance the small, thin figure placed on the bed in the farthest corner.
It was a Slytherin first-year.
Named... Jerry Rosier.
The boy lay prone on the white sheet, upper body naked.
On his pale back, which had not yet fully grown, a charred black welt tinged with purple-red extended from his left shoulder blade all the way to his right waist dimple, appearing exceptionally hideous.
The skin around the wound was slightly red and swollen; some places even had blisters.
Madam Pomfrey frowned. She stepped forward, her professional gaze sweeping over the shocking wound.
This was no ordinary spell damage, nor a fall or collision injury.
This mark... was left by a whip imbued with a malicious curse.
What a vicious person!
Madam Pomfrey whispered in her heart, her brows knitting tighter.
She bent down, leaning close to observe the wound carefully.
With her movement, the white nurse uniform on her body couldn't completely cover her mature, voluptuous curves.
The uniform collar opened slightly due to her bending action, revealing a small patch of delicate, fair skin below her neck, as well as her full breasts wrapped tightly in fabric, rising and falling slightly with her breath.
A faint scent mixed with herbal fragrance and a unique mature female smell emanated from her, lingering by Jerry's bedside.
Madam Pomfrey didn't start treatment immediately but turned and walked to her desk first.
On the desk, a silver photo frame was wiped spotless; inside, a black-and-white photo of a handsome man was smiling gently.
Beside the frame sat a pot of withered hyacinths, forgotten to be watered.
Madam Pomfrey picked up her wand, habitually wanting to cast "Aguamenti," but her fingertips paused, and she finally put it down.
She had guarded this empty Hospital Wing alone for many years.
Madam Pomfrey brought a basin of warm water and a stack of clean gauze back to Jerry's bedside.
Jerry seemed asleep, breathing steadily.
"I'm going to clean your wound; it might hurt a bit."
Madam Pomfrey said softly, as if speaking to herself.
Madam Pomfrey used wet gauze to carefully wipe the blood and stains around the wound on Jerry's back, movements very light, carrying the steadiness and gentleness unique to a healer.
When Madam Pomfrey's gaze moved down along that welt, passing the boy's thin waistline, and landing on his buttocks pressed under him while sleeping prone, her breathing had an imperceptible pause.
Right there, between the boy's thighs, that massive meat root inconsistent with his age was curled up semi-soft and semi-hard on the sheet.
Because of Selina's emotional actions earlier, it appeared somewhat blue-purple. There was even a shallow abrasion on the shaft, seemingly scratched by a fingernail, stained with some dried body fluids.
Madam Pomfrey's gaze seemed glued.
She saw the skin with a luster unique to youth, different from adult men; she saw the coronal ridge appearing exceptionally full due to congestion, and the slightly open, moist urethral opening at the front.
Madam Pomfrey felt her throat somewhat dry. Deep in her lower abdomen, that long-silent wasteland seemed to have a spark thrown into it, stirring up a strange, numbing heat.
"There is... an abrasion..."
Madam Pomfrey's lips moved silently, finding a perfect, professional excuse for her next action.
Putting the basin aside, she knelt by the bed.
Madam Pomfrey leaned forward slightly. Under that white nurse uniform, her full breasts almost touched Jerry's back.
Reaching out, fingertips carrying a slight tremor even she didn't notice, she gently held that half-awake meat root.
Hotter than imagined.
Rescuing that thing from the folds of the sheet, holding it in her palm.
Then, Madam Pomfrey lowered her head. A look of hesitation and struggle appeared on that dignified and beautiful face for the first time.
Finally, desire conquered reason.
Madam Pomfrey opened those full lips; a soft tongue tip probed out. Like treating a precious work of art, she licked gently on that abrasion carefully.
A salty taste carrying a rich masculine scent filled her mouth.
Jerry, lying on the bed, stiffened, letting out a suppressed muffled groan.
The thing in Madam Pomfrey's hand seemed greatly stimulated, jumping violently in her palm, beginning to expand, harden, and heat up at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Madam Pomfrey hesitated no more. Her tongue rolled nimbly, licking that wound carefully, over and over again, cleaning the stains on it bit by bit.
Don't misunderstand; in this Hospital Wing, her saliva was the best disinfectant.
When the wound was licked clean, her tongue didn't stop.
It seemed to have its own consciousness, starting to wander on that meat column already hard as an iron rod, exploring every inch of skin, every bulging vein. Her other hand also moved up, gripping the base of the meat root, cooperating with the tongue's movement, starting to stroke up and down jerkily yet rhythmically.
Jerry's body arched upward from the waist; muscles were distinct due to extreme stimulation.
And Madam Pomfrey turned completely into a precise, efficient human treatment machine.
The behavior looked obscene, but every movement carried an unquestionable, clinical precision.
This was not a skill ordinary healers could master.
It was just that Madam Pomfrey's body had undergone fusion and modification with a rare flower fairy bloodline through a taboo and ancient witchcraft ritual many years ago.
This modification endowed Madam Pomfrey with unparalleled affinity, able to sense and guide the purest life energy. The price was that part of her humanity was replaced by the uninhibited, primal instincts of the fae.
Therefore, Madam Pomfrey's body itself was the most powerful treatment medium.
Even the saliva secreted in her mouth was far beyond ordinary antibiotics.
It carried a faint sweet scent of nectar, containing rich life magic.
When the tongue tip slid over Jerry's sensitive skin, this magic was like the gentlest spring water, seeping into the boy's blood vessels, rapidly repairing those minute damages, while stimulating the primal desire in his body in an extremely domineering way.
And just as Madam Pomfrey's fingertips touched Jerry's skin, they actually emitted a layer of almost invisible, pale green halo continuously.
This halo was the external manifestation of the flower fairy life force in her body.
Every press and every knead was not just physical stimulation but a direct injection of life energy.
Like a gardener using the most exquisite techniques to irrigate and fertilize a dying precious plant, forcing it to rejuvenate in the shortest time and bloom the most brilliant flowers.
The slender tongue was no longer a tool of desire but a probe coated with highly effective potion.
Madam Pomfrey constantly used her tongue tip to outline every fold of the coronal sulcus carefully, covering the entire scorching head steadily with her tongue surface, while the soft flesh under her tongue pressed repeatedly on that sensitive frenulum.
Saliva, mixed with her own healing magic, turned into a unique salve capable of soothing nerves and promoting tissue regeneration.
Jerry was completely drowned by this wave.
He could feel that with Madam Pomfrey's "treatment" using both mouth and hands, streams of heat were rising from his lower abdomen, flowing along his spine to the burning welt on his back.
The pain there seemed to be neutralized and covered by this stronger, more turbulent feeling.
"Mmh... ah ah..."
The boy's body began to spasm violently uncontrollably; orgasm was imminent.
Madam Pomfrey also sensed this.
She accelerated the speed of her hand, simultaneously opening her mouth to swallow that meat root, already hard and purple, deeper. The soft flesh deep in her throat tightly sucked that tip about to erupt.
"Ugh!"
A completely tone-changed groan burst from deep in Jerry's throat.
The next second, a turbulent, scorching torrent, carrying a fishy and rich smell, sprayed violently from the tip of that meat root sucked oily bright, slamming hard deep into Madam Pomfrey's throat.
That force was so great that Madam Pomfrey's head tilted back slightly.
But this was just the beginning.
Jerry's body was like a burst dam; thick liquid gushed out stream after stream, endlessly.
That amount was so amazing, far exceeding the limit a normal adult male could reach.
Madam Pomfrey's small mouth couldn't contain such a massive amount of liquid containing huge life magic at all.
Soon, that thick, milky white liquid overflowed Madam Pomfrey's throat and mouth, flowing slowly down from the corner of her closed, full mouth, forming ambiguous, sticky silver threads, dripping onto the collar of her clean nurse uniform, and also dripping onto the root of the boy's thigh trembling slightly due to spasms.
Madam Pomfrey didn't let go, still swallowing dedicatedly, trying to absorb as much of this precious "potion" as possible.
However, the momentum of the spray showed no sign of weakening.
More thick liquid overflowed from the corner of her mouth, dyeing her chin and neck with sticky whiteness.
The entire Hospital Wing was filled with a scent so strong it wouldn't dissolve, full of vitality.
Gulp!
Gulp! Gulp!
Madam Pomfrey swallowed in big mouthfuls, her throat making clear sounds like drinking mellow strong liquor.
That heat flow carrying the boy's primal life force slid down her esophagus into her stomach.
Madam Pomfrey's body modified by flower fairy bloodline was operating greedily at this moment, transforming these massive, vibrant sperm sources into magic nourishing herself.
Her face, slightly tired from years and solitary life, rejuvenated at a speed visible to the naked eye.
A layer of faint, peach-pink flush appeared on her pale skin, like petals moisturized by morning dew.
Even with eyes closed, they seemed lit up, revealing an indescribable, full luster. Her full lips became fuller, moister, like a freshly bloomed rose.
When the endless heat flow finally stopped, Jerry's body had softened into a puddle of mud, lying on the bed, only his chest heaving weakly.
Madam Pomfrey slowly released her mouth, exhaling a long breath of hot air carrying rich masculine scent and faint nectar sweetness.
She elegantly wiped the residual white liquid from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, looking mistily at the meat root in her palm that had just released but remained as firm as before.
It didn't show any sign of softening at all. The urethral opening at the tip was still slightly open, spitting crystal mucus, as if silently inviting the next round of plucking.
Madam Pomfrey's heart beat wildly uncontrollably.
Reason told her she should stop here, treat the wound on the boy's back, and leave.
But the ancient instinct from the flower fairy bloodline in her body let out a greedy, irresistible screech.
"Too wasteful..." she muttered in a voice only she could hear.
Finally, desire overwhelmed everything.
Madam Pomfrey stood up, movements gentle but decisive.
Madam Pomfrey lifted one leg, straddling the hospital bed, carefully kneeling beside the boy's weakly spread legs.
Then, Madam Pomfrey lifted her white nurse skirt hem, skillfully taking off those white cotton panties with lace trim, tossing them casually at the foot of the bed.
Under the cold light, that carefully tended secret garden bloomed quietly.
Madam Pomfrey bent down, carefully aiming at that scorching firmness.
The moment of first contact, the tight stinging pain brought by that unimaginable size made her gasp slightly.
Overly reckless thoughts were abandoned.
Madam Pomfrey adjusted her posture, using her wettest and tenderest core to gently wrap around that hardness.
The moment softness and hardness fitted tightly, a satisfied sigh spilled from her lips.
Madam Pomfrey began to sway slightly, using an extremely grinding way to let her petals grind slowly on that firmness.
Every sway was accompanied by subtle water sounds, bringing waves of numbing itch that made her scalp tingle.
"Ah... Jerry... yours... so great..."
Madam Pomfrey moaned softly while controlling the rhythm of her body.
Madam Pomfrey's movements were very slow, very delicate, as if not seeking pleasure, but using her own body to perform the gentlest polishing and maintenance for this tired "weapon." Her waist circled softly, driving the flower lips of her lower body, from root to tip, then from tip to root, grinding repeatedly without missing any inch. With every slide, more transparent liquid gushed from her body, making this sticky friction smoother and also more lewd.
With Madam Pomfrey's tireless, gentle grinding, that drained life force in Jerry's body was actually recovering at an astonishing speed.
Under the nourishment of Madam Pomfrey's continuous life magic, Jerry's body was recovering at a speed defying common sense.
His skin, originally somewhat pale due to excessive release, gradually regained its color.
Breathing became deep and powerful, no longer the shallow panting before.
Even the hideous welt on his back seemed to fade in color, no longer so shocking.
All these changes were clearly perceived by Madam Pomfrey, who was grinding him with the softest part of her body.
Madam Pomfrey could feel that the meat column wrapped by her flower lips underneath not only showed no sign of softening but was like an ancient tree rooted deep in the earth, drawing more majestic energy from the boy's revitalized body, becoming increasingly hard and hot.
This vigorous life force was like the sweetest nectar, completely detonating the primal craving belonging to a flower fairy in Madam Pomfrey's body.
She could no longer be satisfied with such superficial friction.
Madam Pomfrey stopped swaying.
In Madam Pomfrey's eyes, the clarity of reason and the desire of instinct were battling fiercely.
"Just once... just this once..."
Madam Pomfrey said to herself in an almost inaudible voice.
Madam Pomfrey changed direction, facing away from Jerry, delivering herself completely.
With a short cry of pain forcibly suppressed, Madam Pomfrey accepted that unimaginable size.
Pain was fleeting, followed by an extreme pleasure of being completely filled.
Madam Pomfrey's broken moans could no longer be suppressed. Her body rose and fell slowly with the rhythm of instinct. Every time pushed that bone-deep connection to a new limit, completely igniting Madam Pomfrey's deepest craving.
Wonderful changes began to appear in Madam Pomfrey's body.
A few strands of Madam Pomfrey's originally smooth hair coiled in a bun fell uncontrollably. The color of the tips actually began to change from dark brown to a fluorescent pale green.
Her skin became more delicate, even revealing a non-human, porcelain-like luster.
And the most amazing change occurred on her back.
At the position of the shoulder blades, two phantom images like butterfly wings composed of pale green light were slowly unfolding. The wings were very thin, nearly transparent, covered with complex and exquisite golden veins. Every slight flap would sprinkle dots of fine light dust in the air.
Madam Pomfrey's moaning voice changed too, no longer the pure sound of a human female in heat, but mixed with a crisp tinkle sound like wind chimes colliding.
This was proof that the flower fairy bloodline in Madam Pomfrey's body was completely activated by the unprecedentedly powerful life force.
Madam Pomfrey was briefly, partially returning to her most primal form belonging to the fae.
Just at the moment Madam Pomfrey was about to sit completely to the bottom, swallowing that thing entirely into her body, completely finishing this ritual of blending life energy.
"Madam Pomfrey?
Are you in there?"
A crisp girlish voice carrying a trace of urgency suddenly came from outside the closed door of the Hospital Wing.
"Was Jerry Rosier sent here?
I heard about his injury... I want to see how he is..."
Hermione's voice was like a cold curse, instantly shattering the psychedelic world built by desire and magic for Madam Pomfrey.
Knock knock knock!
Polite yet persistent knocking came from outside again.
This sudden fright was like the last straw, completely crushing Madam Pomfrey's nerves tense to the limit.
"Ah!"
A short, sharp, and suppressed-to-the-limit gasp leaked from her throat.
Madam Pomfrey's body arched violently, as if gripped fiercely by an invisible giant hand.
That pair of magnificent fairy wings composed of light trembled violently at this instant, then turned into sky-filling light spots, dissipating in the air.
This sudden orgasm was so violent that Madam Pomfrey went limp all over. Her upper body fell forward softly, hands supporting on both sides of Jerry's pillow, completely shrouding the boy's small body under her full shadow, panting rapidly. Sweat mixed with previously flowed liquid stuck a few strands of hair on her forehead to her crimson cheeks.
When that devastating storm of pleasure finally subsided slightly, and Madam Pomfrey opened her eyes tremblingly, what she saw was a pair of clear, calm eyes carrying a trace of probing.
Jerry was awake.
He was looking up at her without a word.
Madam Pomfrey's brain buzzed, instantly blank.
Panic, shame, and the wretchedness of being caught made her almost want to faint immediately.
"You... you little guy..."
Madam Pomfrey whispered in a trembling voice weak as gossamer, carrying a few points of embarrassment turning into anger, "You... you're healed... just..."
Must end this immediately!
Madam Pomfrey tried to get up, but discovered in the next moment that deep inside her body was tightly entangled, not obeying orders.
The aftershock of that extreme joy just now made her inside exceptionally tight.
Madam Pomfrey's body was instinctively and greedily retaining that heat filling herself at this moment, refusing to let go a bit.
"Ah... haa..."
Madam Pomfrey's waist went soft again, a shameful moan spilling from her mouth.
She could feel that the place behind her just healed was stretched open wider by this.
Every attempt to pull out turned into another form of grinding that made her legs weak.
"Madam Pomfrey?
Are you okay?
I heard a sound..." Outside the door, Hermione's inquiry continued, carrying a trace of worry.
Madam Pomfrey was so anxious tears were about to come out.
Madam Pomfrey propped herself up again, disregarding too much, reaching back with both hands to grab her full buttock cheeks, pulling them apart forcefully, trying to use this shameful way to make her entrance looser so that damn thing hard as iron could come out.
"Quick... come out quickly... bastard..."
Madam Pomfrey cursed in a low voice through gritted teeth, while pulling her body upward forcefully, praying.
Her body formed an awkward and tempting posture in mid-air. Slimy love fluid flowed slowly down the root of her fair thigh, shining with water light in the dim light.
Just as Madam Pomfrey was anxious to the point of losing her mind, she felt the boy beneath her, who had been watching her quietly, move his body.
Jerry didn't speak, just silently shifted his center of gravity forward, supporting himself on the mattress with elbows. Then, he tightened the muscles of his abdomen and buttocks, his entire lower body actively shrinking back that insignificant yet crucial inch.
This tiny movement instantly broke that despairing, vacuum-suction-like tight engagement.
Madam Pomfrey felt that subtle loosening immediately.
Seizing this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, she used all her strength, thrusting her waist upward fiercely.
Pop!
A clear, wet, and loud sound, carrying the texture of a bursting bubble, rang abruptly in the quiet Hospital Wing.
The sudden sense of emptiness made her legs weak, almost collapsing onto Jerry.
But the voice outside the door made her dare not delay a moment.
Madam Pomfrey scrambled off the bed. The moment her feet touched the ground, her crotch was still uncontrollably dripping water.
She grabbed her nurse skirt hem in a flurry, pulling it down indiscriminately, not even having time to care about those wrinkled white panties she had tossed casually at the foot of the bed.
Madam Pomfrey quickly straightened her white uniform, which was equally in disarray.
With trembling fingers, she fastened the buttons at her collar, trying to make herself look as dignified as usual.
After finishing this, Madam Pomfrey took a deep breath, drew her wand, and gave a light flick in the air.
An invisible breeze, carrying the fresh scent of herbs, swept through the entire room.
It instantly purged the thick, inescapable musky smell of sex from the air.
The ambiguous traces of fluid on the bedsheets also evaporated rapidly in the wind, vanishing without a trace.
"I'm coming! Please wait a moment!"
Madam Pomfrey responded to the call outside in a voice that was slightly rushed but stable enough.
As her hand was about to touch the doorknob, she couldn't help herself and shot an extremely quick glance back.
That single glance almost made her lose the breath she had just managed to steady.
The boy on the bed showed no trace of embarrassment whatsoever.
Instead, he was propping himself up on his elbows, half-leaning against the pillow.
That thing, which had just caused her endless trouble, was exposed quite broadly to the air.
And on Jerry's face hung a cunning, play-watching smile.
Madam Pomfrey's cheeks reddened instantly once more.
She shot a silent, fierce glare at the boy.
Then she gestured toward the nearby blanket with her eyes—meaning: Cover yourself up immediately!
As she mouthed this, Madam Pomfrey's peripheral vision suddenly caught a white bundle at the foot of the bed—it was her forgotten panties!
Madam Pomfrey's heart skipped a beat.
She wanted to take advantage of the last few seconds before opening the door to rush over and pick up the evidence of her crime.
But before she could even take a step, Jerry on the bed made a move.
the boy simply raised a hand casually and made a grasping motion toward the panties from a distance.
The soft, white cotton panties, still carrying her body heat and moist scent, flew up as if guided by an invisible hand.
They traced a small arc and landed precisely in his palm.
Then, under Madam Pomfrey's gaze—one that looked ready to spit fire—Jerry unhurriedly folded the soft fabric.
He stuffed it into the pocket of his wizarding robe on the chair next to him.
He even gave the pocket a decent pat, as if it were some precious trophy of war.
"You little bastard..."
An extremely faint curse, filled with shame, anger, and helplessness, was squeezed through Madam Pomfrey's teeth.
But she could only glare fiercely at Jerry one last time.
She turned around, took a deep breath, and put her impeccable professional smile back on her face before twisting the door handle open.
"Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said as she opened the door, her face wearing a perfectly timed, slightly tired professional smile.
"Please do not shout in the corridors."
Standing outside the door was indeed Hermione.
She was clutching several thick books in her arms, and the moment the door opened, she immediately stood on tiptoe to peer inside.
"Madam Pomfrey! I'm sorry, I... I heard Jerry was..."
Hermione's gaze moved over Madam Pomfrey's shoulder, seeing the boy already sitting up on the bed.
She visibly heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank heaven, you look alright!"
"Mr. Rosier's condition has basically stabilized!"
Madam Pomfrey stepped aside to let Hermione in.
Simultaneously, she used her body to skillfully block Hermione's view of the bed to prevent her from seeing anything she shouldn't.
"However, he needs quiet rest."
After saying this, Madam Pomfrey felt a shameful chill between her naked legs from the cool air blowing in from the corridor.
It made her even more alert.
She didn't want to stay for another moment.
"Miss Granger, it's a good thing you're here!"
She glanced back to confirm that Jerry had covered himself with the blanket.
Madam Pomfrey immediately found the perfect excuse, speaking in an unquestionable professional tone.
"I must ask you to accompany him for a short while; do not let him move about recklessly."
"Of course, no problem! Leave it to me!"
Hermione agreed immediately, walking quickly to Jerry's bedside and inquiring with concern.
Madam Pomfrey felt as if she had received a royal pardon.
She gave one last warning glare at the "little bastard" who was currently smiling at Hermione.
Then she turned and walked quickly out of the Hospital Wing.
The empty feeling under her skirt made her heart pound with every step she took.
She had to return to her dormitory immediately, change into a clean pair of panties, and then...
And then forget everything that had just happened!
Damn it, could she really forget it?
In the Hospital Wing, Hermione sat on the chair by the bed, chatteringly recounting various versions of the rumors she had heard.
"...They said you were attacked by a Hippogriff... Jerry, how exactly were you injured?"
Jerry's gaze was not on Hermione.
Instead, it passed over the top of her head, casting toward the far end of the Hospital Wing.
At the end of the rows of sickbeds, in the corner of the room, sat an ancient fireplace.
Currently, no fire was lit within it; it was dark and hollow, like a silent eye.
But beneath the layers of ash, Jerry seemed to sense a familiar, faint vibration of magic.
It was a node of the Floo Network.
"Jerry? Are you listening to me?"
Hermione's voice pulled Jerry's thoughts back from that fireplace.
"Um... Jerry!" Hermione lowered her voice, speaking with a bit of embarrassment.
"Those dirty clothes of yours... if you don't mind, I could... I could help you take them to be washed."
Hermione added quickly, for fear that he would refuse or that her true purpose would be exposed.
"Of course, I'm not helping for nothing! It's... well, it's like this."
"I... I've run into some difficulties in Transfiguration. You know, Professor McGonagall's requirements are always so strict..."
"And you, your Transfiguration is always so perfect."
"So... so I thought, if you would be willing to tutor me after class, in exchange, I can help you with all your chores."
"Like washing clothes, organizing notes... anything at all!"
"Just like before, right?"
Jerry's voice was flat, devoid of any obvious emotion.
But that single flat sentence made Hermione's heart skip a beat.
She certainly remembered what "before" was like.
"Yes, just like befo—"
Hermione's words were cut off, choked back by the sight before her eyes.
Jerry seemed to want to adjust his leaning posture to make himself more comfortable.
He simply twisted his waist casually to the side.
Because of this movement, the thin white blanket covering Jerry's lower body slid down smoothly.
The blanket didn't slide down much, only to the root of his thighs.
But it was enough.
Hermione's eyes widened uncontrollably.
She saw it—right there on that patch of skin, exceptionally fair from years of being hidden from the sun.
Veins coiled around a shockingly massive object, which was standing tall and energetic.
Because it had just been "treated," the tip still retained a glistening, moist luster.
Under the soft light of the Hospital Wing, it radiated a primal and aggressive masculine aura.
Although Jerry reacted almost the next second after the blanket fell, quickly reaching out to pull it back up.
He covered the breathtaking sight once more.
But the visual impact brought by that brief glimpse was already like a brand, deeply seared into Hermione's retina.
"Yes..."
Hermione's voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz.
She snapped her head down, staring dead at the tips of her shoes.
She felt herself burning into a scalding red from her cheeks to her ears, and then to her neck.
"Just... just like before."
Hermione's brain was a chaotic mess; the "thump-thump-thump" of her heart sounded like a war drum in her ears.
The image of that thing was impossible to banish from her mind.
It was even clearer and more massive than when she had accidentally walked in on him in the bathroom last time.
"That's good then," Jerry's voice carried a hint of satisfied amusement.
"However, I can't wear these clothes I have on now."
"Hermione, could I trouble you to go to my dormitory and bring me a set of clean underwear?"
To his dormitory again?
The request made Hermione look up sharply, her face written with hesitation and difficulty.
"But... the Slytherin Common Room, I..."
"I'm not going anywhere; I'll wait for you right here."
Jerry saw through her concerns and reassured her in a gentle tone.
"Nothing will happen. I just need to change my clothes."
Looking into Jerry's frank eyes, Hermione's heart, restless with the desire for knowledge, eventually overcame all her concerns and shyness.
Besides, she had just agreed to help him.
Hermione bit her lower lip and finally gave a soft nod.
"The new password is 'Pure-blood Glory'!"
Jerry announced the latest entry password and then added.
"My wardrobe is by the head of the bed, the second drawer. Thank you, Hermione."
Hermione gave an "Mmm" in response and stood up almost as if fleeing.
She walked quickly toward the Hospital Wing doors.
She didn't dare look at Jerry again; every step she took made her legs feel a bit weak.
It wasn't until she stepped out of the Hospital Wing and the cold corridor air brushed against her burning cheeks that Hermione calmed down slightly.
But as soon as she closed her eyes, the image she had just seen immediately surfaced in her mind.
That massive, rock-hard, steaming meat root...
And... there seemed to be some slippery, translucent, pale red liquid remaining on it.
What was that?
Hermione shook her head, forcing herself to stop thinking, and quickened her pace.
However, that unshakeable image was like a persistent curse.
With every rapid step she took, it echoed repeatedly in her mind.
In Hogsmeade Village, beside the main street that was forever filled with the sweet scent of Butterbeer, there was a little-known alley paved with cobblestones.
At the end of the alley, wedged between a noisy tavern and an ancient bookstore, sat an unremarkable two-story building.
The building looked weathered; the wooden beams on the walls were dark in color, and the roof tiles were sparsely covered in moss.
Its windows were always pitch black, neither letting light in nor reflecting the street scene.
They were like two hollows sealed with obsidian.
There was no sign in front, no house number, only a heavy door made of dark oak.
It was a plain wooden door without even a knocker.
To most Hogwarts students and Hogsmeade villagers, this was just an ordinary house.
However, this was one of the few strongholds of the "Forest Elves" in the human world.
When the heavy oak door was opened by special magic from the inside, the biting cold wind and the clamor of people outside would be instantly cut off.
Those who stepped inside would not see the narrow hallway, dusty stairs, or dilapidated furniture they expected.
Behind the door was a completely different world.
A breath of refreshing air, a mix of damp earth fragrance, pine needle scent, and the sweetness of unknown wildflowers, would hit them.
In their ears was the "rustling" of wind through leaves; in the distance, the faint sound of crisp birdsong and gurgling water.
Before them, there was no internal structure of a small building at all.
Instead, there was a vast, boundless ancient forest that stretched as far as the eye could see.
Towering giant trees rose from the ground, their canopies like massive parasols obscuring the sky.
Only dappled "sunlight" with a soft magical halo filtered through the gaps in the leaves.
It cast shifting spots of light on the thick layer of fallen leaves.
Thick vines were like green pythons, coiling around ancient trunks all the way to the ground.
Underfoot was not a wooden floor, but soft, elastic humus soil covered with thick moss and ferns.
A crystal-clear stream meandered from deep within the woods, winding around moss-covered boulders, making a melodious tinkling sound.
The air was filled with abundant natural magic, almost condensed into substance.
With every breath, it felt as if the most primal vitality of life was being inhaled into the lungs.
From the outside, it was just a ruined two-story building.
But its interior hid a vast, vibrant forest independent of the world.
In the center of this endless forest grew the thickest and most ancient giant tree.
Its canopy covered nearly half of the "sky."
Roots were gnarled and intertwined like a natural hillside.
At the foot of these massive roots, two figures in Hogwarts school uniforms sat cross-legged with their eyes closed.
The boy wore the Slytherin uniform; the girl's tie was the red and yellow of Gryffindor.
The badges on their chests showed that both were only first-year freshmen.
They were not human; their slightly pointed ears exposed their identity as elves.
Currently, the two were immersed in meditation, the dense natural magic around them slowly being inhaled into their bodies.
Not far from them was a small mountain made of gold coins.
Hundreds of thousands of Gold Galleons shimmered with enticing luster under the magical light.
However, upon closer inspection, one would notice the outer edges of this mountain of gold.
The outermost gold coins were dim; some had even lost their metallic texture.
Their edges were beginning to shatter, turning into handfuls of useless golden powder.
The magic they contained was being slowly absorbed and devoured by this forest.
On the other side of the giant tree, the scene appeared eerie and horrifying.
Three or four students, also in Hogwarts uniforms, stood as motionless as puppets.
They were from different years, ranging from second to fifth, and belonged to different houses.
Their eyes were hollow and dull; their faces devoid of any expression.
From the branches of the giant tree, several emerald green vines hung down like tentacles.
The ends of the vines rested precisely on the back of each person's head, pulsating slightly, as if siphoning something.
Among this group of soul-less students, a familiar face could be seen—Draco Malfoy's distant cousin, the one who founded the "Prophet's Pool."
This eerie silence was broken by a sudden voice.
"It's so boring staying in here."
Before the words had fully faded, a graceful figure leaped down from the branches of the giant tree.
She landed lightly on her bare feet upon the soft humus soil without making a sound.
This was a female elf of non-human beauty, her skin as white as fresh snow.
She had brilliant golden hair reaching down to her waist and elegant, pointed ears.
She wore only simple clothing woven from emerald leaves and bright flowers.
It covered her vital parts just right, leaving large expanses of white skin exposed to the air.
She radiated a pure yet primal allure.
The two elven students who had been meditating were startled awake. They immediately stood up and bowed respectfully.
"Princess! Why have you come out?" the male elf asked nervously.
The female elf addressed as "Princess" stretched, her graceful curves fully revealed. "I want to go out for a stroll."
"No!" the Gryffindor female elf objected immediately. "It's too dangerous outside!"
"Dangerous?"
The Princess tilted her head, her golden hair sliding over her shoulder like a waterfall.
She stepped on the soft moss with her bare feet and let out a light laugh.
She pointed toward the wizards not far away who had been controlled and were being brainwashed:
"What danger could those clumsy human wizards possibly pose?"
"They are dangerous!"
The Gryffindor female elf took an urgent step forward, her delicate face written with fear and disgust.
Her speech became fast and frantic with agitation, like a startled lark in the woods.
"Princess, you've been staying here and don't know... those wizards... those wizards are nothing but a pack of barbarians!"
"I've seen it clearly staying at Hogwarts!"
"They use crude spells to forcibly twist the laws of nature. They call it 'magic', but to me, it's nothing but sacrilege!"
She waved her arms excitedly, continuing her complaint: "Their castle is built of cold stone, completely cut off from the connection to the earth!"
"Their food is the scorched corpses of animals!"
"Their Potions class involves chopping up poor, living plants and magical creatures to boil them in a pot!"
"And their Transfiguration... forcing a desk to become a pig, a living pig!"
"This... in our racial laws, this is an unforgivable crime!"
"It is a supreme taboo to twist life forms!"
The female elf grew more agitated, her voice even taking on a sobbing tone: "They are selfish, arrogant, and fight each other for so-called 'glory' and 'profit'."
"The history books are filled with nothing but war and slaughter."
"Princess, creatures like wizards are evil to the core!"
"If you go out like this and they discover you..."
"I know," the Princess interrupted softly, her voice cool and calm.
She walked casually toward the small mountain of Gold Galleons, her bare feet stepping on the cold metal, producing a crisp "clink-clank."
She bent down, picked up a gold coin that had lost its luster and was on the verge of shattering, and toyed with it in her fingers.
"I know all these things you say."
"They are twisting nature, they are slaughtering life, they are defiling this world with steel and fire."
The Princess's voice held no anger, only a detached calm earned through the passing of ages: "But, Annie."
She looked up at the Gryffindor female elf in uniform. "What are we doing?"
Her gaze passed over the agitated Annie toward the other side of the giant tree.
She looked at the wizard students standing there like puppets.
"We are also infiltrating them; we are also influencing them."
The Princess raised a slender arm, pointing distantly at those dull-eyed figures.
"We use vines to siphon their memories, steal their knowledge, and then use our will to fill their thoughts."
"We turn them into our eyes and ears in the wizarding world."
She gave the nearly powdered gold coin a gentle squeeze, and golden dust fell from between her fair fingers.
"We use this forest to drain the magic contained within their currency."
"We exploit their greed and curiosity to obtain more magical gold, luring them here one by one."
"We turn them into 'nutrients' to nourish our Holy Tree."
The corner of the Princess's mouth hooked into a half-smile.
In those eyes, as pure as a forest spring, flashed a deep wisdom that belied her appearance.
"Annie, what fundamental difference is there between us and them?"
"It's just that our methods are more 'elegant' and 'natural', isn't it?"
"No, that's different!"
Annie retorted immediately, her voice rising because she could not accept the Princess's point of view.
"We are 'guiding' them! We are purifying their distorted thoughts!"
"The Holy Tree siphons their magic to correct their erroneous use of magic, to let them return to the source!"
"This is completely different from the looting and slaughter the wizards carry out for their own selfish desires!"
The Princess merely looked at her with a trace of faint pity and did not argue.
However, to Annie, this silence was an even deeper negation, making it even more unbearable for her.
"Princess, have you forgotten? Centuries ago, those wizards almost hunted us to extinction just to seize the life essence of our kin to make wands and potions!"
"What we are doing now is only..."
"Enough, Annie."
The Slytherin male elf, who had been silent, suddenly spoke.
His expression was serious as he looked up at the soft halo in the "sky" simulating the sun.
"I apologize, respected Princess. We must return; we have Potions class this afternoon."
As he spoke, he turned toward the other side of the giant tree and raised his hand toward the standing wizards.
With a simple gesture, the green vines connected to the back of the wizards' heads retracted smoothly like snakes receiving a command, vanishing into the foliage above.
As soon as the vines left, the wizards' bodies swayed slightly.
A trace of spirit began to reconsolidate in their hollow eyes, though they still looked somewhat confused and sluggish.
In this group, there were not only students in Slytherin uniforms but also two or three adult wizards clearly dressed as graduates.
"Let's go," the male elf said in an unquestionable tone.
He walked to the very front of the line, leading this group of wooden-faced wizards toward the forest entrance.
Annie stomped her foot in a huff, wanting to say more, but eventually closed her mouth unwillingly.
She gave a hurried bow to the Princess and then walked quickly to catch up with the group.
She stayed at the very back, as if monitoring them.
The Princess remained standing barefoot on the pile of Gold Galleons.
She watched silently as their backs disappeared behind the layers of tree shadows.
The door connecting the two worlds closed quietly after they left.
Returning to the small building, the male elf stopped and looked back to count the people.
After confirming the number, he pressed his hand against the door.
The door slid open silently inward, and the world outside flooded in.
It was no longer the fresh fragrance of earth, but the smell of years of accumulated dust and rotting wood.
It was no longer a soft magical halo, but the dim afterglow of the sunset filtering through dirty windows.
It was as if they had stepped out of a vibrant dream and into the coffin of cold reality.
Just after the last wizard stepped into the building and the wooden door closed quietly behind them, the Slytherin male elf turned abruptly, blocking Annie's path.
"Annie!" His voice was pressed very low, carrying a trace of cold warning.
"You should not speak to the Princess in that tone."
Annie snapped her head up, retorting defiantly, "She started it... She was lumping us together with those filthy wizards!"
"So you talk back to her?"
The male elf's gaze became sharp. "Have you forgotten your identity? Forgotten who she is?"
He took a step forward, his voice dropping even lower, almost squeezed through his teeth: "The Princess was waking you up."
"Don't bring your naive 'good' and 'evil' dichotomy into our mission."
"What we do is never black and white."
"Put away your pathetic, useless compassion and see clearly which path we are currently walking."
After speaking, he stopped looking at Annie's face, which had turned beet red.
He turned and gave simple instructions to the group of still-confused wizards, arranging them in different rooms of the building in batches.
They would wait for the effects of the potions to pass completely before their key memories of today were erased.
A piercing sound suddenly shattered the silence within the building.
Ding-dong!
The sound acted like a switch.
The male elf, who had been treating the group like cargo a second ago, felt the muscles of his body tighten instantly.
Annie's reaction was equally swift.
The grievance and resentment on her face vanished in the first second the doorbell rang, replaced by a well-trained state of alert.
Almost simultaneously, the doors of several rooms they had just used to house the wizards were pushed open silently.
Emerging from the shadows were no longer wooden-faced wizards.
One by one, elves with agile frames and sharp gazes appeared quietly.
In an instant, the entire building transformed from an unremarkable abandoned structure into a silent fortress filled with lethal intent.
Man-height staves inlaid with gems, bows, arrows, scimitars...
The gazes of all the elves, like poisoned arrows, shot in unison toward the door that had made the sound.