Jerry's face wore a composed smile that belied his age. His eyes, devoid of childlike innocence, were like deep lake water, reflecting the slightly flustered face of the mature Narcissa.
"What is it, Madam? Am I unwelcome?" he asked softly, his tone as familiar as if they were old acquaintances.
Narcissa's breath hitched for a moment. She quickly suppressed the emotion that had briefly escaped, regaining the haughty indifference befitting the mistress of Malfoy Manor. She straightened her back, tilting her chin slightly, looking down at him with a condescending gaze.
"This is a private compartment, Rosier boy. I don't recall inviting you," her voice was cold as ice. "Please leave."
Jerry, however, completely ignored her dismissal. He merely smiled easily, then effortlessly lifted the suitcase, which was quite heavy for a boy his age, and placed it on the overhead luggage rack with one hand. The soft "clank" of the case hitting the rack served as his silent proclamation. Having done this, he didn't spare Narcissa another glance, seating himself opposite her on the velvet bench, legs crossed, his posture as relaxed as if he were in his own living room.
Narcissa's fingers, adorned with a meticulous manicure, silently clenched at her sides. She felt an unprecedented level of offense and a sense of powerlessness—a lack of control. The boy's gaze and behavior reminded her of the absurd and shameful Scribbulus incident, which she had consciously buried deep in her memory. She wanted to speak again, to reprimand him, but looking at his unyielding composure, she found any words to be hollow.
In the midst of this awkward and charged standoff, a cold, emotionless mechanical voice suddenly rang out in Jerry's mind.
[System Notification: Daily Mission Refreshed]
[Mission Name: Train Guardian]
[Mission Objective: Ensure the Hogwarts Express is not destroyed by any external force and arrives safely at Hogsmeade Station.]
[Mission Reward: One random magical item, Family Prestige +100.]
[Failure Penalty: Random physiological function of the Host will be stripped for 30 days. Maid Katherine's 'Pact' will be invalidated, and her affection will be reset to Hostile.]
Jerry's eyes narrowed slightly. The penalty made him frown. Both penalties were arguably severe.
First, the physiological function. Did a heartbeat count as a physiological function? Did breathing count?
Furthermore, even if it was just a random physiological function like, say, not growing hair.
The invalidation of Katherine's loyalty mark and the reset to a hostile state was a grave punishment. It meant he would lose not just an obedient tool. It also meant he would likely face an enemy who knew him intimately.
It seemed this journey would not be as peaceful as he'd imagined. The trigger for the penalty was the destruction of the entire train. He looked around the luxurious compartment, his gaze passing through the glass window at the rapidly receding scenery outside.
The Hogwarts Express, running from London to Scotland, was nominally public transport, but it was essentially a closed, dedicated service. Although it made a few stops en route, its primary destination was ultimately Hogwarts. Therefore, few travelers other than a handful of adult wizards with close ties to the magical world would choose to ride such a train. After all, no sane adult would willingly share a carriage with hundreds of energetic, chattering, potentially wand-happy young witches and wizards.
This enclosed environment made it an ideal location for a single event targeting numerous people.
Jerry's gaze finally settled back on the woman opposite him: Narcissa Malfoy.
He looked at her, and his expression changed. A pure-blood noble, a core member of a Death Eater family. Her presence on this train alone was unusual. Was this impending "accident" connected to her? Was she a target, a participant, or... just an unlucky person caught up in it, like him?
Jerry's gaze, like the most precise instrument, slowly slid down from Narcissa's delicately furious face. Today, she wore a well-tailored dark green long-sleeved dress, the fabric a subtly patterned silk velvet, reflecting a faint sheen in the compartment's dim light. Her posture was impeccable, her legs elegantly crossed. The hem of the skirt gathered slightly with this movement, revealing more of her lower legs encased in stockings. Again, a pair of smooth black stockings clung tightly to her skin, outlining the contours of her calves and ankles almost perfectly, so sheer that no flaws were visible. On her finely shaped feet, encased in the black sheer, she wore a pair of black high heels with slender, pointed stilettos. The toe was a small circle, but the long, thin heel carried a dangerous yet graceful curve, resting lightly on the soft carpet, seemingly ready to transform into a weapon or to crush the dignity of any who dared offend her.
Jerry's undisguised gaze, inspecting her as if she were property, finally broke Narcissa's composure. A genuine flash of anger tinged her icy tone.
"What are you looking at?"
Jerry didn't speak, merely withdrew his gaze, the faint smile on his face unchanged. He unhurriedly reached into the inner pocket of his wizarding robes, his movements calm.
However, it was not a wand that Jerry produced.
It was a neatly folded, slightly yellowed piece of parchment. He placed the parchment on the polished small table between them, then gently pushed it across to Narcissa with two fingers. Throughout the entire process, the compartment was so quiet that only the faint rocking sound of the train could be heard.
Narcissa's brows furrowed. She looked down, her gaze falling on the ancient-looking paper. When her eyes caught the familiar, almost too familiar surname written in florid script at the end of the parchment—"Malfoy"—and the magical signature of her husband, Lucius, next to it, her beautiful blue eyes suddenly narrowed.
"This..."
The thin parchment now felt as heavy as a thousand pounds in her eyes. It was not a simple IOU, but a promissory note documenting a secret family transaction. It was a contract signed when the Malfoy family sought help from the Rosier family for some illicit political goal years ago. A debt note that could cost the Malfoy family dearly.
The Malfoy family had managed to escape consequences after the Wizarding War thanks to Lucius's narrative of "acting under duress" and his monetary influence within the Ministry of Magic. They had painstakingly cultivated an image of pure-blood decorum and nobility for years. This debt note, however, was like a bucket of the foulest sludge, enough to thoroughly stain everything they had carefully whitewashed.
Should this document fall into the hands of those bastards at the Ministry who were already gunning for the Malfoys, they wouldn't even need to verify the specifics of the transaction. The mere fact of "secret dealings with the Rosier family" was enough to plunge the Malfoy family into an abyss of perdition. Confiscation, trial, Azkaban... She could even imagine the humiliation Draco would face at school, even if he wasn't directly implicated.
She slowly raised her head, shifting her gaze from the deadly parchment to the boy's face opposite her.
This damned bastard, this little pervert... he actually possessed this debt note. He wasn't bluffing; he wasn't joking. Narcissa looked at Jerry's young face with its composed smile, his calm eyes reflecting her own face, which was subtly contorted by shock. A chilling, almost palpable killing intent resurfaced from the depths of her heart.
With a long whistle, the train slowly started moving with a slight jolt. The scenery outside the window began to rush backward. London's familiar gray brick walls and gloomy sky blurred into indistinct color blocks within seconds, then completely disappeared. In their place was a vast, sprawling wasteland of strange, vibrant colors. This was contrary to reason. There could not be such a large wilderness north of London, at least not one appearing within minutes of the train's departure. In truth, although the Wizarding World is closely linked to the real world, the two do not exist on the same plane—or rather, not entirely in the same world. Otherwise, how could a mere Earth suffice for generations of wizards to explore and expend their magic?
Soon, colossal, sky-high mountains appeared on the distant horizon, their peaks shrouded in multicolored clouds, resembling the dwelling of gods. This extraordinary spectacle elicited gasps of astonishment from all the first-time riders in the other carriages, most of whom pressed their faces against the glass.
Jerry's gaze was also fixed on the view outside the window, his calm eyes reflecting the shifting, fantastical celestial light. He seemed utterly oblivious to the growing killing intent emanating from the noble lady opposite him, an aura that threatened to freeze the air in the compartment.
Narcissa silently held her breath. She hadn't forgotten the humiliating, uncontrollable feeling she experienced last time at Scribbulus. This boy seemed to carry some kind of charm-repellent potion with him at all times. She absolutely could not give him another chance.
Her other hand was tightly gripping a magical artifact that allowed for short-distance Apparition within the carriage—a silver coin carved with a serpent rune. She had to deal with this damned, perverted little bastard in the darkness that was about to descend, before the Trolley Witch arrived.
A huge tunnel entrance appeared directly ahead of the train, like the mouth of an ancient behemoth about to swallow the entire train. The colossal mountain it was about to pierce was both strange and magnificent. The mountain was covered in countless crystalline columns that shimmered with a pink glow. The largest were like towers, and the smaller ones were still over a person's height, refracting dazzling and mesmerizing light in the sun.
The moment the train was completely engulfed by darkness, Narcissa moved.
With virtually no delay, her wand-wielding wrist gave a subtle flick, and a silent spell fluctuation spread out, enveloping the entire compartment. The roar of the train outside seemed to be blocked by a thick layer of cotton, forming a pocket of absolute silence—an illusionary domain. Without hesitation, the tip of her wand erupted with a thin but deadly purple lightning arc. Like the fangs of a viper, it traced an eerie curve in the pitch-black compartment, shooting straight for Jerry's throat.
Everything happened in a flash, too fast to react. However, a smile appeared on the face of the boy, who should have been panicking. His parted lips were clearly visible in the illumination of the purple electricity. He only moved when the lethal arc was less than an inch from his neck. He simply raised his hand casually, spreading his five fingers.
The fierce purple electricity struck an invisible wall, instantly scattering into tiny sparks of light before vanishing without a trace.
Narcissa's heart clenched. She immediately tried to cast a second spell.
But in the darkness, a figure lunged forward with supernatural speed. She felt her wrist seize up, gripped by a force entirely unlike that of a child, making it impossible to swing her wand. She tried to activate the Apparition coin, only to find the boy's other hand pressed against the back of hers, immobilizing her.
"Ugh..." Narcissa let out a short, muffled grunt. She was shoved back by an irresistible force. Her elegant dark green silk velvet dress rustled softly in the confined space. In just a breath, she was forcefully pressed down onto the soft seat she had occupied.
Jerry's body pressed against hers, completely covering her. His knee wedged into the velvet seat. One hand firmly controlled her wand-wielding wrist, pinning it above her head, while the other braced against the opposite side of her body, forming an inescapable restraint. In the absolute darkness, she could clearly feel his weight pressing down on her, and his terrifyingly steady breathing, warm against her cheek.
The killing intent and elegance were gone, replaced only by the shock and humiliation of being completely overpowered.
Suddenly! The hand bracing against her side slowly lifted. In the pure darkness, Narcissa could only judge Jerry's actions by feel.
Jerry's fingers, through the expensive dark green velvet fabric, landed precisely on the apex of her right breast. The next second, a subtle yet intense electric current surged from his fingertips, accurately stimulating that single point.
"Ah!" Narcissa's body arched upward as if struck by a whip, her back slamming hard against Jerry's chest. A suppressed shriek was about to burst from her throat, but Jerry was faster. He simply snapped his fingers, and a silent Muffling Charm instantly took effect. All her sounds were brutally cut off in her throat. She could only emit futile, gasping "huff... huff..." sounds, her face flushing crimson from lack of oxygen and stimulation.
Jerry's fingers did not move. The current continued, with a malicious rhythm, repeatedly stimulating that sensitive spot. Under the dual action of magic and physical pressure, the two points on her chest, tightly bound by her brassiere, rapidly hardened and stood erect, clearly tenting the fabric.
Soon, an uncontrollable warmth surged from deep within her. Warm moisture soaked her expensive lace brassiere, quickly staining a large area of the dark velvet dress outside, leaving dark marks in the darkness.
Jerry leaned down, his warm breath fanning her ear. His voice was soft, but like the whisper of a demon, it drilled clearly into her ear.
"Madame Malfoy, sometimes, debts don't have to be paid in Galleons." His other hand gently rubbed the deadly parchment on the table. "But they must be paid."
Jerry's voice was close to her ear, every word like a cold anvil pounding on Narcissa's crumbling self-respect.
"Failing to pay a debt is an immoral act!" he said, effortlessly grasping the neckline of her dress with one hand. "And trying to kill your creditor to evade the debt is more than just immoral."
"Riiip!"
A harsh tearing sound of fabric echoed in the silent compartment. The expensive dark green velvet dress was ripped open like fragile paper, along with the delicate lace bra underneath. Two full, snow-white masses were exposed nakedly in the darkness, their tips already hard and erect from the recent stimulation. Jerry's two small, boyish hands grabbed them without mercy, wantonly kneading the astonishing softness.
His body was small, yet with a combination of skillful leverage and magically enhanced strength, he pinned the mature, tall, and soft body beneath him, rendering her immobile. Narcissa's body twisted weakly, her legs attempting to kick, but they were firmly suppressed by his knees. Any struggle was like a stone tossed into the ocean, generating only a negligible ripple.
"Are you inviting me, Madam?" his voice was laced with malicious laughter. Subtle purple electric sparks flowed from between his fingers, tracing patterns across her pale skin as he kneaded. With every flash, a small, distinct, bruised fingerprint was left upon the mound of white flesh.
Treated with such roughness, the snow-white flesh once again uncontrollably ejaculated warm moisture. White fluid sprayed everywhere, some splashing onto Jerry's robes, some flowing down her body's curves, and more soaking into the velvet seat beneath her, quickly creating large, wet stains. Under the Muffling Charm, she couldn't make a sound. She could only open her mouth wide, emitting desperate, gasping sounds from her throat, her body violently heaving from the relentless stimulation. Her blue eyes, usually so haughty, now held nothing but humiliation and the watery haze of physiological response.
If Jerry could see her mouth shape now, he would clearly see her repeatedly mouthing, "Let me go, let me go!" Too bad, even seeing it wouldn't matter.
But fortunately, this direct torture was not likely to last much longer. At that moment, the faint sound of wheels rolling and a woman's indistinct hawking could be heard from the other end of the carriage. It was the Trolley Witch. While the illusion charm could block sound and light and deceive those outside the door, it couldn't stop someone who simply pulled the compartment door open.
Jerry had little time left to collect his "interest."
Jerry stopped his hands' actions. His two hands, stained with fluid and bruised fingerprints, left Narcissa's chest. But he did not let her go. His gaze swept to the luggage rack above his head, and his suitcase vibrated slightly. Then, with a simple, empty-handed grab, something cold and heavy materialized in his palm. It was a smooth plug, crafted entirely of mithril, with a dark green gem inlaid in its base. The size of this object was longer than his eleven-year-old hand by half a palm.
Jerry continued to use his boyish body to pin down the mature body beneath him, but his other, free hand slid downward without hesitation. His hand stroked her flat stomach, making no pause, diving straight beneath her torn skirt, accurately finding the last piece of intimate cloth, and deftly slipping inside.
Narcissa's body convulsed violently at the sudden intrusion. She could clearly feel the boy's fingers skillfully pressing and circling the most secret, soft spot. Her body instinctively tried to clamp her legs together, but Jerry's knee firmly pinned her down, rendering her unable to move an inch. Under such precise and malicious teasing, involuntary warm currents surged from deep within her body, quickly soaking the thin fabric and his fingers.
"It seems you enjoy this very much, Madam," Jerry whispered in her ear. Then, he withdrew his wet hand, replacing it with the one holding the cold mithril plug. He gently ran the cool, smooth, rounded tip over the already muddy entrance, then slowly moved downward to the tighter, untouched valley at the rear.
The sensation of the cold metal made Narcissa's body tense up again. She thrashed her waist and hips wildly, trying to escape the imminent, even more humiliating invasion. It was a final, primal struggle.
"Don't move, Madam," Jerry's voice turned cold. "Or it will hurt a lot!"
He offered no more gentleness. Seizing a moment when her hips momentarily stilled, he aimed the mithril plug, lubricated with the fluid from the front, at the tightly closed entrance and shoved it forcefully inward.
"Ugh...!"
Narcissa's eyes instantly widened, her pupils contracting from the searing pain and the sensation of foreign object intrusion. The dry, tight passage was forcibly stretched open. She could clearly feel how the cold foreign body squeezed inch by inch, the tearing pain making her break out in a cold sweat. Jerry didn't give her time to adjust. With an irresistible force, he pushed the entire plug firmly inside until the gem-inlaid base rested cold against her skin.
As the mithril plug was forcibly inserted, a subtle but distinct "pop" sound echoed in the darkness—the sound of the tight entrance being stretched open, mixed with the squelching sound of fluid being compressed. Narcissa's body convulsed violently from the intrusion that exceeded her tolerance. Her waist arched sharply upward, forming a startling curve, before crashing back onto the seat. Narcissa's mouth was wide open, but she couldn't make a sound because of the Muffling Charm.
But Narcissa's body's reaction was more honest than any scream. A warm current surged uncontrollably from the front of her body, instantly soaking the seat beneath her and wetting the part of Jerry's robe that was pinning her knees. Narcissa's legs curled and straightened futilely under Jerry's pressure, her toes pointed rigidly, her feet in the black stilettos twitching slightly from the extreme stimulation.
In that violent spasm, Narcissa's straightened ankles twitched fiercely. The black stiletto heel could no longer hang on and slid from Narcissa's smooth foot with a dull "clatter," falling helplessly on the soft carpet, just like her dignity.
The loss of the high heel fully exposed her exquisite foot, encased in the black sheer. Due to the irresistible stimulation coming from deep within her body, her instep arched high, straining into a heartbreakingly tense curve. The thin nylon stocking was pulled taut by this force, clinging to every inch of skin, so much so that the outline of her five delicate toes, which were now desperately curled and clenched, were clearly visible through the fabric. They were like small hands trying to grasp something, every joint showing a faint white under the tight stockings due to the excessive force.
But it wasn't over yet. As if a switch in her body had been completely flipped, even without any direct stimulation, the two mounds of snow-white flesh on Narcissa's chest, which already bore bruised fingerprints from the previous assault, abruptly tightened again. The next moment, two warm white streams of fluid jetted out from the hardened tips like uncontrolled fountains. They crossed a short distance and sprayed squarely onto Jerry's face.
The warm fluid carried a faintly sweet, musky scent, momentarily clouding his vision and dripping down his still-young cheeks. Facing this sudden "baptism," Jerry didn't even blink. He merely let the white liquid cling to his face, then slowly lowered his head, looking at the mature, full body beneath him, which was only capable of small, feeble twitches due to total physical loss of control.
"Do you like it?"
"This is mithril, you know—very expensive!"
"Custom-made just for you."
"Oh, and the price of this has to be added to your bill. That emerald gem is quite costly."
"Hehe!"