As the morning bells chimed melodiously over Hogwarts, dispelling the last traces of chill from the corridors, Jerry finally closed the thick ledger in his hands. It looked like parchment but was actually bound in dragon hide.
After a full night of review, he had categorized the contents of this ledger—which recorded a century of the Rozier family's glory and shame—into several clear sections.
The largest portion consisted of loans made to other pure-blood families. The sheer scale and number of entries spoke volumes about how influential the Rozier family had been at its peak. Without such deep-seated status and connections, those equally haughty families would never have owed such a staggering amount of wealth.
The remainder was comprised of loans to individual wizards who were either famous at the time or close friends of the Rozier family. However, cold reality proved that "closeness" and "friendship" became worthless once a family's power collapsed. Most of the names on the list were now pillars of the wizarding community, yet they seemed to have suffered collective amnesia, never breathing a word about these old debts.
Just as Jerry's fingers brushed over the last yellowed page, a cold, emotionless voice rang out deep within his mind:
[Ding—System detects host has completed a preliminary inventory of core assets. Long-term mission triggered.]
[Mission Name: Lost Glory]
[Objective: Within 365 days, recover at least 80% of all outstanding debts recorded in the Rozier family ledger.]
[Reward: Success (80% recovery or higher) unlocks the special bloodline ability: 'The Golden Rule.']
[Failure Penalty: Host will be stripped of current identity and randomly cast into a 'High-Risk Otherworld' to fend for himself.]
The icy voice faded, but Jerry's expression didn't flicker. He simply watched the campus come to life outside his window, a cold smile curling his lips—a look far too mature for his age.
Penalty? He didn't even consider it. Jerry only saw the immense reward. One year to make those pure-blood nobles and elite wizards vomit up the wealth they had long since considered their own, with interest. It sounded like an entertaining game.
Jerry tapped the rough cover of the ledger rhythmically. His smile was cold yet carried a sense of pure pleasure. He pulled a fresh, blank piece of parchment from his desk drawer. Its stark whiteness contrasted sharply with the aged interior of the book. With a silent sticking charm from his wand, he bonded the new page to the very end of the ledger. It was a new chapter, waiting for its author.
He dipped his quill into the ink. The nib glided across the fresh surface, leaving behind elegant strokes that formed a single name: Cassandra.
Jerry looked at the name as if admiring a masterpiece. The old ledger recorded the past of the Rozier family—the debts owed by others. This new page would be written by his own hand, recording the "new debtors" who, voluntarily or otherwise, mortgaged their everything to him. Cassandra was the first "investment."
He believed that before long, this symbol of family history would grow much thicker and heavier because of him.
Just as he stowed the ledger, a frantic and heavy knocking erupted at his door, nearly rattling it off its hinges.
"Jerry, hurry up!" Drake's drawling yet excited voice shouted from outside. "The Wizard's Chess Tournament is being held at Hogwarts!"
Before the words finished, a heavy, rhythmic vibration rose from deep underground. It started faint but quickly became violent, as if a titan were marching just outside the castle walls. Dust shook from the stone walls, and ink bottles rattled on the desk.
Jerry put the ledger away and opened the door, his face unreadable. Drake stood there, eyes gleaming, flanked by several curious Slytherins.
"Did you feel that? The scale of it!" Drake's eyes sparkled. "Come on, let's go look!"
They followed the surging crowd of students out of the dungeons and up toward the open grounds outside the castle. Though the morning mist hadn't fully dissipated, the sight before them made everyone stop and gasp.
Next to the Quidditch pitch, on the familiar grass, dozens of towering behemoths had appeared. They were giant statues of Wizard's Chess pieces, carved from massive rock, their height surpassing the surrounding trees. Solemn Kings, Queens clutching scepters, armored Knights on massive stone steeds, and Rooks like small fortresses stood in silence. They cast long, imposing shadows in the morning light, radiating a heavy, soul-crushing pressure despite their stillness.
"Do you see that, Jerry?" Drake's breath was shallow with excitement. He pointed at the stone giants, his ambition unconcealed. "This isn't just a game! I heard from my cousins that this tournament is unprecedented in scale!"
He leaned in closer, whispering with poorly hidden pride. "It's not just students. I heard elite wizards from the Ministry and even front-line military units are coming back to compete! It's not a match; it's a carnival!"
Drake looked at the silent giants as if he could already see himself on the podium. "If you rank high, you don't just get gold from the Ministry... you can get scouted directly into the Ministry's Department of War!" He paused, his tone certain. "Because being good at Wizard's Chess means you have a strategic mind and commanding talent. Right now, that's worth more than any O.W.L. results!"
As Drake rambled on, a gentle yet undeniably powerful voice, amplified by magic, echoed across Hogwarts. It was Dumbledore.
"Good morning, everyone at Hogwarts. I believe you have noticed our new 'big friends' on campus. Indeed, a grand Wizard's Chess Championship is about to begin. However, a few clarifications are in order."
Dumbledore paused for the students to digest the news. "First, for safety and fairness, entry is restricted to students in their third year and above. For the younger students, please treat this as a valuable learning opportunity. Second, and most importantly!" His voice turned stern. "Classes will proceed as scheduled. I expect every student to be in their classroom on time. Believe me, your professors and Mr. Filch will be watching for anyone 'scouting' the boards when they should be studying. You do not want to know the consequences."
Finally, his voice returned to its usual playful warmth. "Lastly, looking at the sky, breakfast is nearly over. I suggest you fill your stomachs with pumpkin juice and bacon. A hungry head is a poor partner for chess or study. Good day to you all."
As the magic faded, the campus returned to a cacophony of chatter. Most students took the advice and headed toward the Great Hall.
Jerry had little interest in "Wizard's Chess"—a game where pieces beat each other to death. Consequently, he knew little of its history or professional players. Drake, however, was a zealot.
"This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance!" Drake talked non-stop as they walked, spitting in his excitement. "Usually it's just school-wide or with the other two schools. But this is a recruitment drive led by the Ministry's Department of War! Look at those giant pieces; they're powered by ancient magic, the kind only used in pro circuits!"
Jerry listened indifferently, scanning the crowd.
"Slytherin has produced many masters," Drake bragged. "The prefect from two years ago, Orion Blackwood—he was the undisputed Chess King of Hogwarts! I heard he was scouted by the military immediately. He's definitely coming back for this. He's the favorite to win!"
Orion Blackwood.
Jerry didn't stop, but the familiar name made his eyes flicker. Cassandra's arrogant boyfriend.
"Is he that good?" Jerry asked casually.
"Of course!" Drake replied. "His style is just like him: aggressive. He loves the 'Queen's Gambit' opening, sacrificing minor pieces to build an irreversible offensive. They say before he graduated, he played Professor McGonagall to a draw! Imagine that!"
They entered the Great Hall. Jerry immediately sensed the difference. The hall was packed. Besides students, there were many adults in various robes. Some huddled in groups whispering; others sat alone with travel boards, their fingers moving rapidly in silent calculation. These people had an aura distinct from the students—some steady as mountains, others sharp as blades.
Jerry's gaze swept the room and landed on a corner of the Hufflepuff table. A petite figure sat there, her oversized robes unable to hide her wildly disproportionate curves. It was Liliana, a first-year like Jerry. She was a typical Hufflepuff—gentle and quiet—but her "baby face and giant tits" always drew stares. Because of the weight on her chest, she had to sit with her back perfectly straight.
Sitting next to her was an unfamiliar young woman, likely in her early twenties. She had silky brown hair and a gentle smile, talking quietly to Liliana. She wore a tight-fitting travel robe that revealed a bust even more impressive than Liliana's. The fabric was stretched to its limit, casting a small shadow on the table.
"Jerry!" a shy voice called out. Liliana had spotted him and waved, looking relieved. The woman beside her followed her gaze. When Jerry's face entered her view, she froze for a moment, her eyes slightly glazed as if she were thinking of something completely unrelated.
"Sister!" Liliana tugged at the woman's sleeve. "That's Jerry Rozier, the one I told you about... remember?"
Jerry walked over and nodded politely. "Good day, Liliana." His eyes naturally settled on the stranger.
"Oh! Yes!" The woman snapped out of her trance and stood up clumsily, offering a溫婉 apologetic smile. "Hello, Mr. Rozier. I'm Liliana's sister, Alicia."
As Alicia spoke, Jerry noticed a strange habit. Her body swayed slightly with the rhythm of her words, like a metronome. This unconscious movement caused her massive breasts to bounce up and down, a sight impossible to ignore.
"Hello, Miss Alicia," Jerry kept a perfect smile.
"Liliana said you are... very good at solving... troublesome problems." Alicia's eyes began to drift again, as if her brain were simultaneously running a complex chess simulation. She shook her head to focus. "I... I have a board state that has haunted me. Everyone says it's a 'stalemate,' but I feel... I feel there must be a solution..."
As Alicia spoke, her swaying increased, and her heavy tits began a dazzling, rhythmic dance. Liliana looked at her sister with helplessness, tugging her sleeve to mind the setting, but Alicia was lost in her virtual board.
Seeing Jerry's calm, almost clinical gaze, Liliana's cheeks flushed. She whispered to Jerry: "I'm sorry, Jerry... when she thinks about chess, her brain can't fit anything else in." She hesitated before adding, "Don't be fooled by how she acts. She actually works for the Ministry's Department of War."
Jerry's eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly.
"She's a Commander," Liliana continued. "A very powerful War Wizard. She's often on the front lines. Her colleagues say she's a once-in-a-century strategic genius, but... the moment she leaves the battlefield or the command room, she..." Liliana gestured to the swaying, bouncing Alicia with a sigh.
Alicia, oblivious, continued in a dream-like tone: "...The opponent has only a King and a Knight. I have a Rook and three Pawns. It looks like a certain win, right? But the Knight occupies a perfect defensive anchor. No matter how my Rook attacks, it's blocked by their joint defense. And my Pawns... if they move forward, it changes the whole board's tempo and puts me in a trap. It's illogical... impossible..."
She grew more animated, her swaying faster, her full breasts jumping elastically under her robes.
Jerry understood the rules of chess but knew nothing of deep tactical theory. Alicia had unwittingly offered him a chance to show off his mind, but he couldn't take it. Just as he considered how to politely decline, a confident male voice spoke from behind.
"It's not a stalemate, Miss Alicia. Your logic was flawed from the start."
Jerry and Liliana turned to see a tall young man approaching. He ignored them entirely, walking straight to Alicia with a charming smile. "The key isn't the enemy Knight. It's your three stuck Pawns. They limit your Rook and block your path to victory."
Alicia stopped swaying. Her eyes focused on Orion. Orion enjoyed the attention and delivered the answer: "So, you don't use the Rook to attack. You... sacrifice it."
"Sacrifice?" Alicia's lips parted; the idea was completely outside her paradigm.
"Exactly!" Orion nodded. "Move your Rook to a position where both the King and Knight can and must take it. Use the sacrifice to force their defense apart. Once they move, their line breaks, and your Pawns can march in for the win."
The explanation was fluid and logical. Alicia's eyes lit up with the joy of a chess addict who had found a soulmate. She didn't sway; she clasped her hands, looking at Orion with near worship. "Sacrifice the Rook for tempo... of course! Why didn't I see it!"
"Glad to help," Orion bowed gracefully. "Orion Blackwood. Perhaps we could play a real game later?"
"Yes! Yes!" Alicia agreed immediately.
Jerry watched this with a meaningful smile. Cassandra's boyfriend was, right in front of him, diligently pursuing another woman with equally massive breasts from the Ministry. It was... very interesting.
Jerry sat at the Slytherin table. He had just picked up his knife when Katherine sat down beside him. She checked to see that no one was watching and covertly pressed a cold, smooth object into his hand.
"What is this?" Jerry looked at the glowing, milky-white crystal—a Vision Stone—and asked, knowing full well what it was.
"Little incubus master," Katherine whispered, a blush of shame and fawning appearing on her face. She winked and smirked. "You'll know once you check it later. It's a surprise... from Cassandra."
Jerry shrugged and pocketed the stone. He began eating methodically. "Why haven't I heard about this big tournament before?"
Katherine looked around and shook her head. "I don't know. No rumors at all. It's like... the Ministry decided it on a whim. Nothing last night, and then everything changed this morning."
Jerry cut his sausage, his mind racing. Ministry-led, elite veterans, huge rewards, direct recruitment into core departments... this was far beyond a "school event." And where there is fame and profit, there is gambling.
A thought flashed like lightning. "Is there a betting pool?" he asked, his voice flat as if asking about the weather.
"A betting pool?" Katherine paused, a piece of bread halfway to her mouth. She frowned, not understanding. After a moment, she shook her head. "I doubt it. The Ministry bans private gambling on official events. Plus, there was no warning. The black markets wouldn't have had time to organize..."
She stopped when she saw Jerry's face—a smile like a shark scenting blood.
"Just because they didn't start one doesn't mean we can't," Jerry said with a light chuckle. "If the officials won't provide one, we'll give them one."
He pulled a folded, high-quality parchment from his robes and slid it across to Katherine. It was a Gringotts bank draft. On it, in the ornate script of goblins, was a number that would make any adult wizard stop breathing: 10,000 Golden Galleons.
The gold ink shimmered in the morning light like a siren song.
"We only need to open it for the students," Jerry said quietly. "I'll provide the capital."
Katherine's eyes nearly popped out of her head. She had never seen such a fortune displayed so casually at breakfast. To a student, that wasn't just money—it was an astronomical concept. Her throat felt dry, her heart racing.
However, her reason eventually suppressed the greed. She looked at Jerry. "But... I... I don't know anything about chess. I don't even know the pro players. I can't set the odds or... run this for you."
Seeing her torn between the gold and her fear of incompetence, Jerry smiled. It wasn't a mocking smile; it was strangely warm and approving. He folded the draft and put it away.
"It's okay," he said gently.
Katherine felt a rush of relief, but also a twinge of guilt, fearing she had disappointed him. But Jerry looked at her with a sense of satisfaction. She was cute—like a kitten wanting to pounce on a ball of yarn but knowing its claws weren't long enough, so it just shook its head honestly. That honesty and self-awareness were far more valuable than a fool pretending to be capable.
Before Jerry could dwell on the thought of "his people," a figure in a complex Gothic dress appeared and sat unceremoniously on the other side of Katherine.
It was Cassandra.
The atmosphere froze. Cassandra was meticulously dressed, but her signature smoky eye makeup was slightly ruined, and her eyes were visibly red. She had clearly just been crying.
Katherine's smile vanished, replaced by cold disgust. She didn't even turn her head, scraping sauce off her plate with a sharp, mean tone: "What, did you change your mind? Want the Vision Stone back? Sure, just give me back my five hundred Galleons. There's still time."
Jerry watched with interest. He kept eating his steak, but his eyes were on Cassandra. Seeing her red eyes and her fragile pride, he found her somewhat... adorable. He said nothing, acting as if the storm next to him didn't exist.
Cassandra kept her head down, her long hair hiding her face. She seemed to shrink under Katherine's mockery. After a long silence, she spoke in a voice barely above a whisper: "Can you... lend me another thousand Galleons?"
"Ha!" Katherine let out a sharp, cold laugh, finally turning to look at Cassandra like she was a joke. "You think I'm an ATM? Why don't I just tell you Gringotts is owned by my family and you can go take what you want?"
The words stabbed into Cassandra's crumbling self-esteem. She buried her head lower, her expression full of shame. "Please, Katherine... I really need it... I'll find a way to pay you back as soon as I can..."
Katherine was about to say something even more cutting when Jerry's shoe gently nudged her leg under the table. It was a subtle signal, but Katherine understood. She swallowed her insults and took a breath. When she spoke again, the emotional mockery was gone, replaced by the icy scrutiny of a businesswoman.
"Lending it to you isn't impossible," Katherine said steadily. "But I'm not a charity. If you want money, you have to pay a price. We will write down the principal, the interest, and the deadline in black and white." She paused, her eyes sharp. "Most importantly, you have to tell me what it's for. If it's for dark wizards or contraband, you won't get a Knut. I'm not catching a case from the Ministry for you."
The interrogation left Cassandra even more flustered. Her gaze drifted toward Orion, who was still chatting happily with Alicia. Seeing his charming smile directed at someone else made her lips quiver. After a moment of hesitation, she lowered her head and whispered:
"Wizards who have already graduated... they have to pay a massive entry fee to join the tournament. Orion... he wants to enter, so he's asking me for money." She added quickly, "You know his skill! Last time, he came in 17th! This time... he says if he hits the top ten, the prize is over 10,000 Galleons! He can definitely pay you back then!"
Hearing this, Jerry put down his fork and stood up. "Excuse me." He didn't say where he was going, leaving the two women behind as he walked toward the exit of the hall.
Katherine watched him leave, then turned back to Cassandra, her smirk widening. "Still raising money for your Prince Charming? How touching. But let me tell you, his 'affection' is worth nothing."
Cassandra bit her lip in silence.
"Follow me!" Katherine stood up, looking down at her. "There's a shortcut... if you have the guts for it."
Without waiting for a reply, she walked toward the girls' lavatory. Cassandra hesitated for a few seconds before following like a puppet.
The lavatory was empty, the only sound the dripping of a tap against the old stone. Katherine went to the furthest stall and signaled for Cassandra to enter. Cassandra, confused and oppressed by the small space, stepped in. Katherine followed, locking the door behind them, and pointed at the stone wall separating them from the next stall.
"Look there."
Cassandra followed her finger and saw a hole about the size of a fist, with relatively smooth edges, at waist height. The hole was pitch black. "What... what is this?"
Katherine didn't answer. With a playful, cruel smile, she commanded: "Kneel."
Cassandra hesitated, but under Katherine's icy stare, she humilitatingly sank to her knees, her Gothic skirt spreading on the floor. Just as she fully knelt, there was movement from the dark hole.
A thick, terrifying cock slowly and undeniably pushed through the hole, stopping right in front of Cassandra's face. It was engorged, red, and throbbing, with a bead of clear pre-cum already leaking from the slit. Thick veins pulsed along the shaft, radiating heat, and the heavy, musky scent of a young man filled her nose, making her breath hitch.
It was Jerry's! She had seen it before and recognized it immediately. A cock that size was unmistakable.
"See that?" Katherine knelt down too, a mischievous grin on her face. She reached out with a slender finger, circling the head of the cock and flicking her nail against the pulsing veins as if playing with a favorite toy. More fluid leaked from the tip.
Katherine held her wet finger in front of Cassandra's eyes.
"You have fifteen minutes," she whispered seductively. "Use any method to make him cum. If you do, I'll lend you the thousand Galleons, interest-free. Orion just has to pay back the principal after the tournament."
She watched Cassandra's jaw drop in shock, her smile becoming even more wicked. "But... if you fail, after fifteen minutes, every extra minute adds fifty Galleons in interest. Well? Do we have a deal?"