Sunlight spilled onto the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, bustling with people. Jerry resumed his façade of pure innocence, his eyes wide with an appropriate mix of curiosity and excitement. Pushing a cart laden with his new clothes, he headed straight for the enormous building piled high with books—Flourish and Blotts.
Just as he reached the bookstore entrance, a wave of unstable magical energy washed over him, accompanied by a faint smell of burning. A few young wizards, who looked to be about his age, were gathered nearby, their faces flushed, apparently attempting some kind of spell. Among them was a round-faced girl with fluffy blonde hair. She was holding her wand, earnestly trying to cast a spell on a display stand holding The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1.
However, her magic was clearly unstable, still in the nascent stage.
"Levioso..." the girl, Hannah, shouted. But instead of hitting the bookshelf, a wobbly streak of purple smoke shot from her wand tip and hit the feather quill cart beside Jerry with a "BANG!"
Jerry felt the surge of magic but didn't dodge. He wasn't sure if Mina had truly left. Even though the System claimed Mina was no longer suspicious of him, what if she hadn't? So, he stood his ground. But even without actively dodging, the spell missed him.
He pretended to be rocked by the blast, the handcart in his grasp nearly slipping away. His eyes widened, his face showing a look of being startled. But the next second, his body reacted faster than thought, rushing straight toward the quill cart.
"Fire!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with the specific panic of a young boy.
The quill vendor was frantically waving his wand, trying to cast Aguamenti to extinguish the flames, but he was clearly flustered, and the spell was sputtering.
Jerry acted fast, grabbing a canvas bag filled with sequins and beads next to him, ignoring whose goods they were, and slammed it down onto the smoking quill cart. With a few crackling sounds, the sequins and beads scattered, but the canvas bag itself landed precisely on the quills that had caught fire, temporarily cutting off the air supply. The flames were immediately suppressed.
The vendor looked stunned, then gratefully at Jerry, finally successfully casting Aguamenti. A clear stream of water accurately doused the embers, extinguishing the last wisp of smoke.
"Thank you!" the vendor gasped.
"Just helping out!" Jerry brushed the dust from his hands, giving the vendor a slightly shy but sensible smile.
At this point, the round-faced girl, Hannah, walked up to Jerry, her cheeks bright red, her eyes filled with obvious guilt. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to. My spell is always a bit... disobedient," she stammered, her gaze anxiously fixed on the ground.
Jerry tilted his head. His clear, innocent eyes sparkled, showing no blame whatsoever. He looked at the wand in Hannah's hand, then curiously at the scorched cart, his face radiating an endless fascination with magic.
"It's okay! Is that your wand? It's really beautiful!" He lowered his voice, but loud enough for the surrounding young wizards to hear, his tone a perfect mix of awe and admiration. "It's the first time I've seen such a powerful spell! Expecto Patronum sounds so cool!"
Hannah Abbott was thrown off-balance by his words. The guilt on her face slightly receded, replaced by a hint of small pride.
"That's... that's not Expecto Patronum. Only older students can learn that," she blushed, explaining softly. "I was just trying... trying the Levitation Charm..." She pointed to the display copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, looking mortified.
Jerry blinked, his eyes shining even brighter. "Wow! The Levitation Charm is super amazing too! You're going to be a great witch!" He offered a deliberately innocent comfort, genuine admiration in his eyes for this "pioneer," as if even a failed spell possessed extraordinary charm to him. "My name is Jerry. What's yours?"
Hannah's embarrassment was completely washed away by his kindness and compliments. She looked up, offering a shy smile. "I'm Hannah Abbott." She held out her hand, genuinely shaking Jerry's. "Thank you, Jerry. If it weren't for you, those quills might have all burned up."
As Jerry held her small hand, he could feel the slight dampness of nervous sweat in her palm. He looked up, taking a proper, closer look at the girl before him.
Hannah Abbott? Neville Longbottom's wife? Tsk, tsk, she was indeed going to grow into a beauty. Her round cheeks still held a trace of baby fat, paired with soft, fluffy blonde hair that seemed to glow like a gentle halo in the sunlight, making her look like a delicate doll. Her features were soft, her light brown eyes clear as a forest stream, and her dense, fan-like blonde lashes fluttered with a touch of awkward shyness. When she smiled, she revealed two small, rabbit-like front teeth, both adorable and pure.
However, Jerry's gaze always effortlessly caught the details hidden beneath the surface.
A gust of wind blowing through the alley conveniently lifted the corner of her simple robe. In that brief instant, Jerry saw that the girl was wearing not ordinary cotton socks beneath the robe, but a pair of snug, thin white stockings. The stockings tightly encased her slender, well-proportioned calves, outlining soft but already developing leg lines, extending upwards and disappearing into the deeper shadows of the robe. This created a subtle and enticing contrast with the pure innocence of her face.
"A pleasure to meet you, beautiful Miss Hannah."
"Thank you!"
Just as Hannah Abbott's smile blossomed like a flower and the two were about to continue their conversation, a crisp, rhythmic "tap, tap" sound echoed from a distance, striking the cobblestones with an undeniable air of arrogance. The sound drew everyone's attention.
Jerry and Hannah looked toward the source. A noblewoman, leading a blonde boy, was gracefully approaching Flourish and Blotts. The lady wore a sweeping robe of deep green velvet, expertly tailored to perfectly contour her mature, voluptuous figure. She walked slowly, each step seemingly calculated, her feet encased in sharp high heels that made her already tall frame appear even more statuesque. Her face carried the characteristic, aloof distance of the aristocracy, yet her slightly arched brow bone subtly betrayed a certain allure unique to mature women. When her gaze occasionally swept over the surroundings, it was both like surveying her domain and silently declaring her charm.
A gust of wind lifted the wide hem of her robe, revealing the beautifully contoured calves and ankles wrapped in stockings underneath. The sheen of the stockings flashed in the sunlight, appearing both noble and sexy.
The boy accompanying her had perfectly inherited the family's arrogance. He held his pointed chin high, his pale face filled with disgust, as if everything in Diagon Alley was intolerable. When he saw Hannah and Jerry, that disgust became more specific.
"What's that smell? Burnt chicken feathers." Draco Malfoy's voice was sharp and cutting. He dramatically sniffed the air, his eyes darting straight to Hannah. "Oh, it's an Abbott practicing magic here. What, did your father not have enough Galleons to buy you a proper spell book, so you have to learn spells by spying outside the shop?"
Hannah's recently restored color drained from her cheeks instantly. She, of course, recognized Malfoy. Though Hannah was a half-blood witch, the Abbotts were an ancient wizarding family. She instinctively took half a step back, her lips moving without sound. Unable to utter a word, she simply lowered her head.
Malfoy scoffed dismissively, then turned his attention to Jerry. He sized Jerry up, his eyes assessing him as if he were merchandise. "And who are you?" His tone was laced with unconcealed mockery. "Judging by those robes, you must have dug them out of a second-hand shop. What, are your parents Mudbloods, or not even wizards? Hanging out with an Abbott, how fitting."
Throughout this, Narcissa had not uttered a single word. She simply stopped, watching the little drama unfold from her superior height, a near-invisible, approving smile playing on her lips.
Jerry did not retreat like Hannah.
The Malfoy family. Mere contemptible fence-sitters.
Oh, wait! It seemed that among the IOUs left by his cheap, deceased father, there was one from the Malfoy family.
What a coincidence.
"You are very rude, but unfortunately, my clothes were not bought from a second-hand shop." Jerry's voice was calm, carrying the specific stubbornness of a boy. He extended his finger, pointing to his chest, where a faint emblem was embroidered. Although old, its complex pattern and ancient style still hinted at past glory. "My name is Jerry Rosier, and this is our family crest."
Rosier.
The name exploded in that small corner of Diagon Alley like a sudden thunderclap. The faces of the surrounding young wizards who vaguely heard it instantly froze in shock and unconcealed fear.
Hannah Abbott's face went completely pale. The hand that had been holding Jerry's now unconsciously let go, and she even took a step back, her eyes wide with alarm. The innocence in her gaze was gone, replaced only by unexpected terror. The Rosier family—the only pure-blood family to be completely purged, nearly wiped out, for their involvement in Dark Arts! Their name held no pleasant associations in the Wizarding World.
However, no one's reaction was as quick or profound as Narcissa Malfoy's. Her cold blue eyes sharply constricted the instant she heard the name "Rosier," a visible flicker of emotion crossing their depths. The previous aloof superiority and the playful amusement at her son's cheekiness were instantly scattered as if by a cold wind.
Narcissa's gaze was no longer a casual glance but carried a sense of long-ago memory and subtle nostalgia as she meticulously examined Jerry's young face, as if trying to find the shadow of an old friend in his childish features. Jerry's dark, clear eyes and his thin, but feignedly strong posture were remarkably reminiscent of a deceased figure.
"Rosier..." Narcissa's voice was very soft, almost ethereal, as if coming from the depths of a distant memory. She clearly remembered Jerry's father, the friend who had once been so spirited at Hogwarts alongside her brother, Severus. She had even hidden in a corner and wept silently at their wedding over a lost, youthful infatuation. Even years later, after she had married Lucius and become the mistress of Malfoy Manor, she sometimes thought of that man when she woke up in the middle of the night.
Yet, standing before her now was a boy in ordinary clothes, so frail he looked like a gust of wind could blow him over.
She was jealous. She was jealous that Jerry possessed the man's complete bloodline. This was a twisted and secret emotion that now made her want to tear apart this "purity" before her and smear it with the characteristic disdain and arrogance of the Malfoy family.
"Rosier!" Narcissa repeated, her voice returning to its usual cold composure, but the flat tone subtly conveyed the subtle contempt only a person of high standing could manage. She elegantly stepped forward, her sharp high heels clicking crisply again, walking straight up to Jerry. She towered over him, casting a large shadow.
She gave a slight, seemingly benign dip. This gesture should have been friendly. However, her movement was a little too pronounced. The deep green velvet robe parted slightly with her movement, exposing a large expanse of pale skin at her chest. The flesh was full and rounded, subtly rising and falling with her breathing. She could feel the soft curve of her bosom pressing down with her body's shift in weight, forming an alluring curve. A faint, mature woman's perfume seemed to fill the air.
This was a silent, aggressive display, a humiliation laced with the temptation of fully ripened fruit.
Narcissa's long, thin fingers, slightly calloused, lightly tilted Jerry's chin, her tone carrying a casual indifference. "Your parents and I were old acquaintances. Since you are the son of an old acquaintance, out of consideration for old times, the Malfoy family might not be entirely unwilling to offer you a little help... say, by getting you some decent robes."
She paused, a slight curve appearing on her lips. Her eyes locked onto Jerry, as if trying to see right through him. "After all, the Rosier family... ha, is practically penniless now."
Jerry's chin was held by the cool fingertips, forcing him to meet her cold, slightly mocking blue eyes. He smelled her perfume and saw the dazzling whiteness deep within her neckline. His young face showed no shyness or embarrassment. His dark eyes were as calm as stars in the night sky, startlingly composed.
He lightly but firmly pushed Narcissa's hand away, the movement polite and decisive, without any hesitation. He looked directly at the proud woman before him, speaking slowly and deliberately. His voice, though young, carried weight. "Penniless?"
His gaze seemed to penetrate Narcissa's luxurious robes and exquisite jewelry, looking far beyond.
"Respected Madam Malfoy, I recall..." A smile, unfitting for his age, played on Jerry's lips. "...The Rosier family ledgers clearly record that the Malfoy family borrowed a huge sum of money from my family seventeen years ago. Calculated with interest, now..." He paused, offering her a slight, apologetic smile. "...It probably won't be settled with 'a little help.' In fact... it's you who owes me a considerable amount of money."
Jerry's voice was very low, a mere thread, almost completely drowned out by the surrounding marketplace bustle. Only Narcissa and Jerry, standing so close, could clearly hear the casually spoken words that weighed a thousand pounds.
Draco, completely unaware, continued to pout smugly. Hannah Abbott buried her head completely, lost in her own complicated emotions.
However, Narcissa heard every word distinctly. Her cool blue pupils suddenly constricted, nearly forming a dangerous point. She maintained her towering posture, but her spine instantly went rigid, as if an invisible hand were choking her. The perfect aristocratic poise suffered an infinitesimally small, almost negligible fracture.
She unconsciously clenched her hand, her fingertips digging into the thick flesh of her palm. The usual indifference on her face vanished, replaced by a sharp scrutiny and a rare trace of unease.
"A huge sum seventeen years ago..."
Countless thoughts flashed through her mind. The fall of the Rosier family was not sudden. Certain financial dealings involving specific individuals naturally had to be kept private. The Malfoy family did have some capital maneuvers during that time for certain "investments." If Jerry spoke the truth, this would be a bomb that could explode at any moment.
She lowered her gaze, scanning Jerry's young but shrewd face. Every word that came from the child's mouth silently chipped away at her proud mask. Her slender fingers unconsciously rested on the edge of the large expanse of pale skin at her chest, which subtly trembled with her anxious breathing.
She suddenly bent down until her aggressively blue eyes were level with Jerry's. The subtle scent of the mature woman grew stronger, vaguely tinged with the intensity of musk. Her breath was close but devoid of warmth, instead feeling like a sharp knife attempting to dissect the child before her.
"I'd like to know!" Narcissa's voice remained soft but carried an unquestionable chill. "How does a baby who knew nothing at the time know about these... family secrets?" Her lips curved into a smile again, but this time, it was no longer the playful amusement from before, but a mix of scrutiny and a dangerous curiosity. Her long legs, encased in black stockings beneath her robe, became more defined as she bent, like a predatory beast ready to spring.
Facing Narcissa's cold, scrutinizing blue eyes, Jerry did something completely unexpected.
He lightly took a step back. The step was incredibly subtle, almost elegant, effortlessly distancing himself from the oppressive range of Narcissa's presence. He was like a feather drifting leisurely away from the poised claws of a beast.
The calm and profound shrewdness in his dark eyes, which had been present during the confrontation with Narcissa, instantly faded as if it had never existed. Then, he completely ignored Madam Malfoy, who was still bent over, her body curves exposed, her expression frozen on her face.
His gaze softened as he turned to the terrified Hannah Abbott, and a pure, brilliant smile, befitting his age, bloomed on his face once more.
"Hannah!" His voice was clear and warm again. "I'm going to buy books now. It was great meeting you. See you next time!"
Having said that, he even waved a friendly goodbye to Hannah.
Afterward, Jerry calmly turned, bent down to pick up his parcels from the ground, hugged them to his chest, and walked toward the door of Flourish and Blotts without looking back. His figure was small, but his steps were remarkably steady, without a hint of panic, as if the tense, volatile confrontation had been nothing more than an inconsequential chance encounter.
Time seemed to freeze at that moment. The only thing left in the air was the strong scent of Narcissa's perfume, which now felt somewhat aggressive. She maintained her slightly bent posture, the blue eyes that had been intent on dissecting Jerry's secrets now only reflecting the bookstore's old wooden door.
The smile on her face was utterly frozen. Humiliation, anger, astonishment... emotions flashed across her well-maintained face, finally settling into a chilling, almost drippingly cold gloom. She had never been so thoroughly, so contemptuously ignored—especially by a seemingly harmless, young boy.
"Draco." Narcissa's voice regained its customary coldness and authority, though the tone carried a subtle tension. She didn't explain or acknowledge Draco's questioning look, simply patting his slightly rigid shoulder. "Go wait for me at the wand shop in Diagon Alley. I need to go into Flourish and Blotts to look at a few books. Remember, no mischief without my permission."
Though Draco was disgruntled, he knew his mother's temperament. Beneath the seemingly gentle command lay an absolute authority that brooked no argument. He merely pouted, reluctantly heading toward Ollivanders Wand Shop nearby. He looked back repeatedly, his eyes full of confusion.
Once Draco's figure disappeared into the crowd, Narcissa slowly turned her attention back to the old wooden door of Flourish and Blotts.
The huge sum from seventeen years ago. She remembered. In the years of fierce pure-blood infighting, when Voldemort's power was at its peak, the Malfoy family had made a large "investment" to consolidate their position in the Ministry and to acquire a crucial collection of Dark Arts artifacts. That investment was formally conducted through a series of ancient family contracts. She vaguely recalled that the most critical part of it was indeed "borrowed" from the Rosier family at the time.
After the Rosier family was destroyed, the IOU was naturally assumed to have been reduced to ashes with the family's demise. She had never given its whereabouts a second thought, nor had she recorded it in the ledgers.
But now...
Narcissa no longer moved with the relaxed leisure of her arrival. With an immediate urgency, she pushed open the heavy wooden door of the bookstore and headed straight inside. She had to find that boy. That IOU could not be left outside, and absolutely could not be discovered by those fools at the Ministry of Magic!
Narcissa's gaze darted quickly through the stacked books, searching for the small figure. The faint rustling of her velvet robe and the regular clicking of her high heels were strikingly out of place in the quiet atmosphere of Flourish and Blotts, drawing attention.
However, the person she was looking for was currently hiding in a corner filled with Potions books, observing her with keen interest through the gaps between the thick volumes. Jerry, his small body concealed behind bookshelves several times his height, watched her hurried steps and sensed the restless anxiety radiating from her. A subtle curve played on his lips.
He knew she was desperate. This frantic appearance, hunting for prey, was far more interesting than her previous high-and-mighty demeanor.
Just then, the cold, familiar System prompt sounded in his ear.
[Ding! Temporary Quest Issued!]
[Quest Name: The Interest from Seventeen Years Ago]
[Quest Objective: Successfully collect the interest owed by the Malfoy family to the Rosier family from seventeen years ago.]
[Quest Content: In Flourish and Blotts, engage in a physical, insulting violation of Narcissa Malfoy and take one personal item of undergarment (briefs or brassiere) from her person.]
[Quest Reward: Family Prestige +50, Special Item (TBD).]
[Quest Failure Penalty: Narcissa Malfoy will fully see through your disguise and will use the power of the Malfoy family to execute you secretly in the most ruthless manner.]
Jerry's breathing hitched imperceptibly. His dark pupils slightly widened. A thrill of cold excitement instantly surged up his spine, rapidly spreading to his limbs. This quest... was surprisingly provocative.
The penalty was "secret execution." This meant he had to succeed; there was no room for failure. And the quest content carried a pathological, blatant connotation of sexual violation.
Jerry stared at Narcissa, who was pacing near the bookshelves. Her well-tailored robes perfectly encased her mature, voluptuous curves, and the "personal undergarment" named in the quest, hidden beneath her smooth skin, seemed exceptionally alluring and challenging.
Jerry licked his dry lips, a cold, mischievous light, entirely unfitting for his age, flashing in his eyes.
He didn't act immediately. Instead, he pulled his gaze away from Narcissa's mature, tempting body and turned toward the "Law and Regulations" section at the back of the store. The shelves were lined with heavy, archaic tomes.
Jerry stood on his toes, laboriously pulling out a dusty, thick volume titled Ministry of Magic Regulatory Compendium: Since the 1692 International Statute of Secrecy. His small body was nearly crushed by the book's weight, but he carried it to an inconspicuous corner. He then began to diligently flip through the pages with his slender fingers.
A few minutes later, as Narcissa, showing a trace of impatience, finally scanned his corner, Jerry looked up. He clutched the book, which was almost half his size, and walked straight toward Narcissa with small steps. His face wore the confusion and pure innocence of a boy asking for help with schoolwork, as if their previous tense exchange had never happened.
"Madam Malfoy!" He looked up, his voice clear, tinged with a thirst for knowledge. "I found something in this book I don't quite understand. Could you please teach me?"
Narcissa's brow furrowed slightly. She looked at the boy who had suddenly become humble and studious, and the legal tome so incongruous with him, a hint of wariness rising in her mind. But she didn't refuse, merely speaking in a condescending, charitable tone: "Go on."
Jerry struggled to hold the book out to her, flipping to the page he had already marked. He pointed his small finger at a section printed in cold, Gothic type. The heading read: [Regulation on Penalties for Asset Transactions and Dealings with Families Designated as 'High-Risk Dark Families' by the Ministry of Magic].
Narcissa's gaze followed his finger. The lines of black print now felt like burning brands, scorching her eyes.
...Any asset transaction with a designated Dark Family exceeding one thousand Galleons,
conducted without the Ministry's permission, will result in the following penalties upon verification:
Firstly, all assets under the names of both transacting parties will be immediately frozen and
thoroughly investigated; secondly, principal parties involved must undergo compulsory Veritaserum
interrogation by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; thirdly, those found guilty will be
sentenced to a minimum of fifteen years in Azkaban.
Narcissa's breathing hitched when she saw the words "Veritaserum interrogation" and "Azkaban." Her face visibly paled. For the first time, undisguised terror surfaced in her eyes, usually marked by aloofness and arrogance. She could feel her heart pounding frantically in her chest, and a chilling coldness rushed through her limbs. Her long legs, encased in black stockings beneath her velvet robe, involuntarily tensed, the muscle lines becoming noticeably clear due to the extreme tension.
Jerry acted as if he hadn't noticed her distress at all. He looked up with a more confused expression and softly asked: "Madam, I don't quite understand... what does 'Dark Families' here refer to? Is it... families like mine? That would be truly unfortunate!"
As he spoke, his body, holding the heavy tome, seemed to sway slightly as if overwhelmed, seeking a point of support.
In that precise instant, his small hand—the one not holding the book—seemingly accidentally, lightly rested on Narcissa's calf.
Narcissa's body froze for a moment. She felt an unfamiliar warmth instantly spreading from that single point on the side of her leg, through the smooth black stocking.
Jerry's face still held its innocent, questioning look. He seemed utterly unaware of where his hand was placed, his clear eyes focused intently on Narcissa, waiting for her answer.
However, the hand resting on her leg did not move. In fact, his fingers began to stir.
The soft pads of his small fingers, unique to a boy, began to brush almost imperceptibly, extremely slowly, across her stocking. The movement was light, as if curiously feeling the fine, smooth texture of the stocking, or perhaps unconsciously tracing the taut and elegant curve of her leg muscle. He stroked upward, from her calf, inch by inch. That youthful warmth, separated only by a thin layer of fabric, was blatantly invading one of a mature noblewoman's most private zones.
Narcissa's breathing completely broke its rhythm. An indescribable sensation of tingling and humiliation, like climbing vines, wildly spread upward from the point of contact. Her mind was already reeling from the legal text, yet her body was simultaneously seized by a subtle tremor from this sudden, sacrilegious caress.
She could feel her leg muscles involuntarily contracting, but she dared not make any large movement. If she retreated even slightly or spoke a harsh word, the eyes of the other wizards pretending to read nearby would immediately be drawn to them.
What would people see then?
She couldn't move. She was pinned to the spot.
The confused expression in Jerry's eyes deepened. He even slightly pouted, as if distressed by the lack of an answer. "Madam, surely... you know the answer?" His voice was as pure as a mountain spring, but his hand had already subtly slid past the back of her knee, moving toward the softer, more sensitive inner thigh.