Time passed quickly. The last hint of summer heat had been replaced by the morning chill. In the blink of an eye, the start of the Hogwarts term was only days away.
Jerry ended his all-night seated position, slowly recovering from deep meditation. When he opened his eyes, the sky was just beginning to turn pale with the dawn. A night of stillness hadn't left him tired; instead, he felt full of energy and vigor. Magic flowed steadily through his body like a gentle stream, finally returning to the source deep in his abdomen.
The fundamental difference between the Wizarding World and the Muggle World is not whether one knows magic exists, but an innate aptitude. This aptitude is an imprint etched deep into the bloodline and soul, a chasm mere mortals cannot cross.
Not every child born into a wizarding family can successfully cast spells. The essence of magic is more like an independent energy source hidden within the body. For some, this source is like a vast, bottomless underground lake; with minimal guidance, it can unleash tremendous power. For others, this source might only be a shallow puddle, perhaps making the surrounding grass a bit greener than elsewhere, but never enough to form a stream capable of driving a spell. Such people are known as "Squibs." Muggles are the dry land, lacking even this "puddle."
This innate magical reserve is a wizard's most fundamental aptitude. It determines a wizard's floor and how far they can ultimately go on the path of magic.
Of course, possessing a large magical reserve alone is far from enough. Unpolished magic is like a flash flood—destructive but without order. Therefore, study is necessary, a wand is needed as a tool for channeling and amplification, and incantations serve as the "keys" for precise magical release. Furthermore, using meditation to sense, organize, and control the magic within one's body is a secret passed down through generations of wizards seeking higher magic.
All of this, Jerry had mastered expertly in the summer before his eleventh birthday.
The door to the room was gently pushed open without a sound. Katherine walked in, holding a cup of warm water. In the preceding days, she had successfully adjusted to the suit. She had even donned a fitted maid's uniform over it. The black and white lace apron and skirt, overlaid upon the shiny black rubber suit covering her body, created a strange yet harmonious visual effect. She wasn't wearing the gag-mask; her full lips were exposed, only a bit redder than usual. Her face consistently carried a natural flush, as if she had just finished exercising, giving her a strange, healthy vibrancy, and her usually cool eyes were perpetually misted over with a faint layer of moisture.
The most peculiar feature was on her chest. Two ordinary silver metal binder clips were biting tightly onto the most sensitive points of her breasts. The hard clips pierced through the thin rubber suit, gripping the garment along with the tender flesh underneath, creating two conspicuous, rectangular protrusions on the full curve outlined by the catsuit. As her body swayed slightly when she walked, the two long, silver metal handles wobbled, like a strange pair of antennae. This kept her body in a state of constant, slight agitation, and ensured her beautiful face maintained its alluring blush.
Katherine walked up to Jerry, gently placed the water cup on the nearby side table, and then obediently lowered her head, her voice sounding soft due to the continuous stimulation on her body: "Good morning, Master."
Jerry's gaze swept across her face, finally resting on the two peculiar bumps on her chest. Katherine was unwilling to wear the mask that prevented her from speaking clearly, and Jerry, ever merciful, had substituted this innocuous little punishment that nonetheless served to constantly remind her of her place.
He reached out, his fingers pinching the handle of one clip. Katherine's breathing hitched, and her body subconsciously leaned in, seeming to anticipate something. Jerry didn't hesitate, applying pressure to his fingertip and releasing the clip with a sharp "snap."
"Mmm..." A potent rush, a blend of soreness and pleasure, radiated throughout her body from the nerves in her chest. An irrepressible groan escaped Katherine's throat. Her legs went weak, and she nearly dropped to her knees. Within the confines of the black rubber suit, the full mound of flesh sprung upward violently, as if liberated, before sinking back down heavily, creating a wave of motion.
He repeated the process, removing the clip from the other side. Another slight spasm.
Jerry acted as if he hadn't noticed her physical reaction. He naturally withdrew his hand, picked up the cup of warm water, and took a sip.
"We leave for Hogwarts today!" He set the cup down, his voice calm. "Do you need to go back and prepare any luggage?"
The lingering afterglow of the climax had not entirely subsided in Katherine's body, and her mind was slightly muddled. She was taken aback by such a normal question. Go back? Prepare luggage? Those words felt like something from a past life. She instinctively looked up at Jerry's still-calm, boyish face, trying to discern if this was another joke or test. But Jerry's eyes were clear, as if stating the obvious.
Katherine finally registered the situation. Yes, the Hogwarts term was starting. She was a student; she needed textbooks, robes, her own belongings. And Jerry... Jerry was actually allowing her to return.
"Yes, Master," she nodded, trying to keep her voice steady. "I need to go back for luggage. There are many things to prepare for the start of term."
"Mm," Jerry responded, casually picking up a bulging leather pouch from the side table and tossing it by her feet. The bag landed on the floor with a heavy, crisp clinking sound of coins rubbing together.
"Then go back after breakfast! This is your salary for next month." He stood up, stretching his body after sitting all night. "See you at the school." With that, he walked straight toward the dining room, as if the matter were concluded.
Katherine watched his retreating back, then looked down at the cloth bag containing at least several hundred Galleons by her feet. She was slightly stunned. He... was just letting her go? Alone? And giving her money? A massive, unbelievable feeling enveloped her. She opened her mouth, a dry word escaping her throat:
"Master..."
Before she could finish, the distinct sound of running water came from the nearby washroom.
"Oh, what are you doing? Hurry up and come clean me." Jerry's lazy voice was not loud, but it clearly reached Katherine's ears. The momentary, illusory surge of emotion vanished without a trace.
Katherine's expression returned to its usual composure. She even subtly rolled her eyes, almost imperceptibly. She bent down, picked up the money bag, casually placed it on the table, and then walked toward the washroom.
"Coming, my Little Master."
Jerry was standing in the washroom, his lower garments pulled down to his knees. The shaft, startlingly large for his age, was still healthily semi-erect, with a few glistening drops of liquid clinging to the tip.
Katherine walked up skillfully and knelt before him. She picked up a small basin of water nearby, scooped some clear water, and carefully began to rinse the organ, starting from the base. The gentle flow of water washed over the shaft, removing the residual urine. Clearly, this was not the first day this routine had been performed.
But when Katherine reached the tip, her movements paused. Without any warning, Katherine leaned forward slightly, opened her soft lips, and completely enveloped the entire large head. Her warm tongue darted out nimbly, carefully circling beneath the indented ridge of the glans. She licked away the last few drops of liquid remaining there, diluted by the fresh water, along with the scent of his skin itself, leaving nothing behind.
From any observer's perspective, the scene was filled with a strange, dissonant beauty. Jerry was merely an eleven-year-old boy. His body was slender, his shoulders undeveloped. His flat chest and delicate limbs lacked the muscle definition of an adult male. His skin was pale from lack of sunlight. He stood casually, barefoot, like a child from an ordinary family.
Yet, kneeling before him was a woman with a fully mature physique. The black rubber suit acted like a second skin, delineating every curve of Katherine's body. As she knelt, her tightly encased, full, and perky buttocks formed a breathtaking arc against her slender waist, creating an exaggerated yet seductive contrast. Her high-set breasts remained full even in the kneeling position. One side was currently being squeezed in the palm of a small, slightly fleshy hand belonging to the boy, leaving clear indentations on the shiny black rubber.
Jerry showed no expression upon hearing her answer, only increasing the force of his grip on her breast. He feigned anger, putting on a severe look with his boyish face, and said, "Insolence. I punish you by forbidding you from having breakfast today."
Katherine was unfazed by his threat. Not only did she not stop, but she lowered her head, moving down the length of the shaft. Her lips and tongue bypassed the dense patch of hair, finally reaching the two heavy sacs below. She treated them like the finest delicacy, enveloping one with her soft lips, her tongue circling it, savoring it slowly.
"Hehe..." She chuckled indistinctly, her voice coming from between his legs, carrying a triumphant, playful challenge. "I've already eaten my fill, Master."
"Is that so?"
"What did you eat?"
She raised her eyes, looking at Jerry's slightly unsettled expression due to her actions. Then, she gently bit the egg-like sac with her teeth. The force was slight, but enough to make his body twitch.
"I ate 'eggs and sausage.' Delicious."
September 1st, King's Cross Station, London.
Jerry, alone, pushed a luggage cart full of trunks through the bustling crowd. He held the purple ticket, looking at the destination: Hogwarts, Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Katherine had wanted to accompany him, but Jerry refused. After all, Katherine had a highly visible identity at Hogwarts—a seventh-year student, a Slytherin, and a Prefect. What kind of stir would it cause if a graduating Slytherin senior were seen interacting intimately with an unknown first-year student on the platform?
Furthermore... there was the matter of Jerry's identity! Jerry didn't need that kind of attention.
The thoughts flashed through his mind quickly. Jerry pushed his cart, walking unhurriedly toward the brick wall between Platforms Nine and Ten. Just as he prepared to walk straight through, a family of three nearby caught his attention.
It was a small girl who looked about his age, with excessively bushy, dark brown hair. She seemed utterly thrilled about her upcoming school life, already wearing a new Hogwarts uniform robe. Unusually, a pair of legs clad in white knee-high socks showed beneath her slightly short robe, tucked into small black leather shoes. She was looking at the wall with a mix of nervousness and excitement, seemingly muttering to herself, reciting the passing method she must have read in a book.
Her parents stood behind her. Judging by their attire, they were clearly Muggles with no understanding of the Wizarding World. Their faces held the same nervousness as their daughter, mixed with a hint of pride and worry. Especially the mother, who maintained a graceful elegance even in the chaos of the station. She wore a fitted dark skirt suit, the hem just brushing her knees, revealing the beautifully contoured legs encased in smooth black stockings. A pair of high heels made her already slim figure appear taller. The father next to her looked more ordinary. He was leaning down, whispering something to his daughter, encouraging her to be brave.
"Are you sure it's here, dear?" the attractive mother asked with some uncertainty. "Do we... just walk right into it?"
"The book says so!" The little girl stubbornly puffed out her chest. "It's magic. You can't see it!"
Jerry paused with interest, deciding to let them go first. Just as the dark-haired girl took a deep breath, finally gathering the courage to charge, her attractive mother finally couldn't hold back. She noticed Jerry, standing calmly like a seasoned traveler, and seemed to find a savior.
She walked over with elegant steps, her high heels clicking softly on the floor tiles. As she approached, a subtle, mature perfume scent wafted over.
"Excuse me, may I trouble you for a moment..." Her voice was gentle with a hint of apology. "We're first-timers... Do you know... uh, how to get in?"
Before she could finish, the little girl rushed over, interjecting, "Mom! Don't ask, I know what to do!" She looked up at Jerry, her face radiating competitive stubbornness and student-like earnestness. "The book says you just walk straight through! Hello, my name is Hermione Granger!"
Jerry looked at the small witch, who was half a head shorter but full of spirit, and offered a polite smile. "My name is Jerry. It's simple, don't worry." He reassured Hermione's mother, then told Hermione, "Watch."
Without another word, he pushed his luggage cart with a steady and firm stride, walking directly toward the brick wall. Under the nervous gaze of the mother and daughter, he and his cart vanished into the wall as if it were merely a phantom.
After less than half a minute, the wall rippled like water. Jerry stepped out, empty-handed.
"My cart is through." He stood before Hermione, his smile still calm and polite. Then, he extended his hand toward the somewhat startled Hermione. "Now, it's your turn. Do you need help?"
Hermione looked at Jerry's outstretched hand, her cheeks slightly warm. As a girl who liked to thoroughly research everything herself, she actually preferred to complete this first magical crossing on her own. But the boy's composed demeanor and his calm eyes, which seemed to see through everything, prevented her from refusing. She hesitated, but finally placed her small hand lightly in his palm.
"Stick close to me. Don't let go." Jerry's voice was flat, yet it held a reassuring strength. He held her hand, placed his other hand on her luggage cart, and led her toward the wall.
As their bodies began to sink into the wall, a cold, viscous feeling, like passing through a thick sheet of mercury, enveloped Hermione. Her vision began to twist and blur. The station's bustle and the smells of the Muggle World were rapidly sealed out. This strange, supernatural experience made her heart tighten. The descriptions in books were naturally miles apart from the actual sensation. Her body instinctively recoiled, and her steps stopped.
This brief hesitation caused her to lose her balance. Hermione yelped, tumbling backward uncontrollably.
However, she didn't fall to the floor. A chest, not broad but perfectly firm, caught her. Her back hit squarely against Jerry, and his hand, which had been steadying the luggage cart, wrapped around her, stabilizing her arm. Her entire upper body was practically cradled in his embrace.
"Don't be afraid!" Jerry's voice was right by her ear, his warm breath brushing her earlobe. "One more step and we're there."
Hermione's face flushed crimson. She quickly regained her footing, not daring to look back at him. She just gripped the cart handle, nodded haphazardly, and followed his pull, taking the final step forward.
Light and sound rushed back instantly. They were fully standing on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was currently bustling. The deep red express train looked grand and solemn amid the swirling steam, like a gigantic beast about to awaken. Luggage of all colors was piled high, owls hooted and called from their cages, and young wizards in brand-new robes excitedly ran and leaped, calling out to friends. The air was thick with the sweet smell of Chocolate Frogs and pumpkin juice, mixed with a faint magical aroma.
Hermione was slightly overwhelmed by the combination of her recent fright and the lively scene. She held her luggage cart, staring blankly around until Jerry released her hand.
The two walked forward with the crowd. However, Hermione soon noticed something strange. When the eyes of older students swept over Jerry, their excited smiles would subtly fade, and a faint, hard-to-miss rejection or fear would appear in their gaze. Whispers occasionally reached her ears, punctuated by the surname "Rosier." Clearly, even with the family's fall, some names still held a taboo power in the Wizarding World.
Jerry heard the whispers too, but paid them no mind, his gaze calmly navigating the platform. He was looking for a compartment without so many "flies."
In the middle of the train, a luxurious compartment, distinctly different from the others, caught his eye. Its carved glass windows and dark wood exterior proclaimed its unique status. Through a transparent window, Jerry saw the person he was looking for.
Narcissa Malfoy sat quietly inside. She clearly didn't need to find seats for her children and was currently sitting alone, leaning against the soft velvet seat, her long hair draped casually. Her refined face showed a hint of weariness, but this only added to the unique charm of a mature woman. Her gaze was directed out the window, as if deep in thought.
"Jerry, where are we going?" Hermione, pulling her luggage cart, looked somewhat bewildered by the surrounding scene, instinctively seeking guidance from the only familiar person beside her.
Jerry didn't answer immediately. He merely shrugged helplessly, then subtly nudged his head toward a group of older students who were clustered together, chattering noisily. Their eyes were purposefully or unintentionally drifting toward them. Although their voices were kept low, the surname "Rosier" still reached their ears intermittently. Their gazes held a mix of curiosity, disdain, and a thread of fear rooted in the family's dark reputation.
Hermione followed his hint. Although she didn't understand the reason, she sensed the unfriendly atmosphere.
"I'm afraid," Jerry withdrew his gaze and looked at Hermione, stating calmly, "you'll have to find an empty seat on your own. Being with me isn't a good choice, at least not right now."
Having said this, he didn't give Hermione a chance to ask further questions. He turned and walked toward the luxurious compartment, leaving Hermione standing still, filled with questions and a touch of disappointment.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside, without any pretense of knocking or asking permission. The lighting inside the compartment was slightly dimmer than outside, enhancing the delicate quality of Narcissa's skin. She heard the sound and instinctively looked up, assuming it was a student who had rushed onto the train and walked into the wrong carriage.
However, when her eyes caught the boy's face by the door, her usually calm gaze suddenly tightened. Her entire body involuntarily trembled slightly.
That little pervert... is he...
"What is it, Madam? Am I unwelcome?"