A figure arrived silently on the platform of the third-floor corridor.
The black robes seemed to absorb the already thin light around him, merging him completely into the ancient shadows of the castle.
His footsteps made no sound, as if he were not walking on hard stone bricks but floating above the ground.
It wasn't a sound, but a feeling.
A cold magical aura, like a snake sliding across a stone slab, carrying the scent of potions and ancient parchment.
The two people currently indulged in a deep kiss froze at the exact same moment.
Jerry's tongue stopped its demanding search, and the faint movement of Professor McGonagall's reciprocation solidified.
They were like people hit by a Petrification Curse, separating while maintaining a distance where their lips almost touched.
A wisp of glistening silver, a mixture of their saliva, snapped between their parting lips.
Inside the compartment, only their heavy, suppressed breathing remained.
A trace of clarity returned to Professor McGonagall's pupils.
It was immediately followed by overwhelming terror and shame.
Professor McGonagall shoved Jerry—who was still hanging off her—away, frantically tidying her robes which had been crumpled into a mess.
"Someone's coming!"
Jerry also slid down from her body. He quickly pulled up his trousers which had been dropped to his ankles, the massive object still standing tall beneath the fabric looking particularly prominent.
Jerry's expression wasn't as panicked as McGonagall's; instead, it held a trace of gravity and playfulness.
He tilted his head to listen, pushing his perception to the limit.
Footsteps.
No, they couldn't even be called footsteps.
It was a "swish" of robes brushing against the air, even lighter than a cat's paw pads hitting the ground.
The sound was approaching them unhurriedly from the other end of the corridor.
"Shh... don't make a sound."
Professor McGonagall used an almost breathy whisper. She pressed one hand firmly over Jerry's mouth and gripped his arm tightly with the other, trying to push him back.
That cold aura outside was like a venomous snake, slowly patrolling outside the door.
The nearly non-existent footsteps felt like heavy hammers hitting her heart at this moment.
Jerry naturally knew this was the contact person coming to retrieve the Philosopher's Stone.
Under the current circumstances, it was too late for Jerry to take the Stone himself.
However, letting the person outside take it could also be seen as a solution to the problem.
Jerry followed the force of McGonagall's push, stepping back slightly to make her think her warning had worked.
But in the moment she slightly relaxed, Jerry moved as fast as lightning.
He didn't go to kiss her again, nor did he cover her mouth.
Instead, he grabbed the hem of Professor McGonagall's dark green robes and yanked them upward violently.
The robes were lifted directly to her waist, revealing the long, straight legs beneath wrapped in dark stockings.
Between her legs, that area that should have been a private triangle was already soaked with a large patch of body fluid. The dark fabric clung tightly to her full mons pubis, outlining an enticing shape.
"You...!"
Professor McGonagall sucked in a breath of cold air. Just as she was about to scold him, Jerry's next move choked all her words in her throat.
Jerry rapidly unfastened the trousers he had just put on, allowing that hideously erect, shockingly sized giant to spring out again.
This posture caused McGonagall to lose her balance completely. Forced against the door panel, she had no choice but to open her gateway to him.
However, Jerry's intention was clearly more excessive than she imagined.
He did not enter from the front.
He used his knee to press into the back of McGonagall's knee, forcing her to turn slightly, pinning her entire body against the cold wooden door.
Now, Professor McGonagall was sideways, with one leg draped over Jerry's shoulder while the other stood weakly on the floor. In this extremely awkward posture, she exposed her most secret rear and crotch unreservedly to the boy behind her.
McGonagall's cheek was pressed tight against the rough wooden door. Through the tiny crack, she could see a blurry, elongated black shadow moving slowly in the corridor.
McGonagall's heart beat so hard it felt like it would jump out of her throat.
She didn't dare make a sound; even her breathing had nearly stopped.
McGonagall desperately wanted to see who the person outside was, but the movements of the boy behind her made it impossible to concentrate.
Jerry was like a beast clinging to a tall tree.
One hand gripped McGonagall's waist tightly, while the other reached toward the tight, soaked forbidden zone.
Jerry didn't try to unfasten anything; he used a nearly barbaric method.
Through the thin layer of stockings, his fingers found the edge of the equally wet panties.
His fingertips touched the slightly raised cartoon cat embroidery on the fabric—a small, harmless personal interest of hers that had now become the ultimate humiliation.
Riiip!
the sound of fabric being forcibly torn apart sounded exceptionally sharp in the deathly quiet compartment.
The dark stockings, along with the cotton panties printed with the cute cat, were torn open with a massive gap by Jerry's brute strength.
The shredded fabric hung at the sides of McGonagall's thighs, and that already muddy secret valley was exposed starkly and defenselessly before his eyes.
Professor McGonagall's body gave a violent shudder, and she bit her lower lip hard.
The shadow outside seemed to pause for a moment because of the faint tearing sound.
Professor McGonagall's heart nearly stopped beating.
But the shadow only stopped for a heartbeat before continuing forward, eventually disappearing around the corner of the corridor.
Before McGonagall could even breathe a sigh of relief, an even larger and hotter sensation of invasion slammed into her from behind, brutal and irresistible.
"Let go... you little bastard... you dare... you—"
Splurt! Squelch...
Jerry propped his shockingly sized long spear, aimed at the slippery slit, and thrust upward with all his might.
The massive head tore through the tight checkpoint, crushed over the slippery tender flesh, and performed a forward-charging sprint all the way to the end without reservation.
"Ugh...!"
Professor McGonagall's eyes widened suddenly. All sound was swallowed back into her stomach, leaving only an uncontrollable groan of pain from her nose.
Too big... too full...
Professor McGonagall felt as if her body were being split in half from behind by this boy.
That giant object, carrying a momentum that could crush everything, filled every inch of the space within her.
Jerry was like an accessory that had finally found its home, his entire body pressed against her back. His arms held her tight, while his lower half was buried deep inside her.
Jerry even had to stand slightly on his tiptoes to find the most suitable angle to exert force.
This posture made Jerry look like a massive parasite hanging onto a piece of mature fruit, greedily sucking away the nutrients.
Jerry didn't start moving immediately. He stayed at the deepest point, letting her feel the presence of that thing inside her.
Then, Jerry lowered his head and blew a soft breath with a voice filled with triumph and desire that only the two of them could hear.
"Professor... you're so tight... and there's so much water..."
The object brought a tearing sensation of fullness within McGonagall's body.
At first, it was pure pain and panic.
But as Jerry began his clumsy, tentative, and slow thrusting, a strange, tingling pleasure started to spread uncontrollably from the deepest part of her stretched body.
Pain and pleasure, shame and stimulation—two extreme emotions crashed violently within McGonagall's body, finally merging and fermenting into a primal desire she had never experienced.
The panic gradually faded from McGonagall's wide, terrified eyes, replaced by a dangerous calm that settled like the surface of the sea before a storm.
She felt the movements of the boy behind her.
Jerry was working hard, but because of his height disadvantage, every thrust looked a bit labored.
He almost had to hang his entire body weight on her just to complete a full stroke.
Except for that giant object that was completely out of proportion with his body, everything else about him was so youthful.
A surge of rage, mixed with a strange desire for control, rose from the bottom of McGonagall's heart.
Not like this... this sort of thing shouldn't be like this.
She suddenly reached back and gripped Jerry's thin, forcefully thrusting waist.
"Eh?" Jerry's movement paused.
In the next second, McGonagall made a move he never expected.
Her waist erupted with power. With an irresistible strength, she lifted Jerry—who was still buried inside her—along with his massive thing, entirely off the ground.
Professor McGonagall turned around, strode forward, and slammed Jerry hard against the dust-covered wall opposite them.
Bang!
A muffled thud.
Jerry's back hit the wall solidly. His feet, still in their shoes, were a good half-foot off the ground, dangling powerlessly in the air.
Now, the situation was completely reversed.
Jerry was no longer the aggressor; he was like a specimen pinned to a wall.
That thing was still buried deep within McGonagall, becoming the only pivot point connecting them.
And Professor McGonagall, like a mother beast finally awakened, stood firmly on the ground. She propped her hands against the wall, trapping Jerry between herself and the stone, her eyes filled with aggression.
"You... like it like this, don't you?"
McGonagall's voice was raspy, carrying a trace of mockery and an uncontrollable pant: "Then I'll let you taste... the real thing."
With that, Professor McGonagall stopped submitting passively.
She thrust her waist, actively sitting back to swallow the giant object deeper, until his thick pubic hair rubbed against her tender buttock cheeks.
"Ah...!" This time, the one to cry out was Jerry.
Then, McGonagall began her own movements.
She tilted her voluptuous, full buttocks and began to thrust backward with a wild and precise rhythm.
Squelch! Squelch! Squelch!
Every impact carried the weight of her entire body, slamming hard against Jerry's thin hips.
The giant object was forced to move in and out of her body crazily.
The sticky water sounds became deafening in the narrow compartment.
Because of the violent impact, a large amount of body fluid could no longer be contained. It slid and dripped continuously down the roots of her thighs, quickly forming a small, ambiguous puddle on the dusty floor.
Professor McGonagall had taken complete control.
She even began to change positions. Propping one hand on the wall, she used the other to grab one of Jerry's legs, fixing him in a more open position before slamming into him even more fiercely from the side. Jerry was unable to resist at all; he could only be manipulated like a doll, his throat emitting a series of muddled moans mixed with pain and pleasure.
"Look at me!"
McGonagall commanded. She turned her head, forcing the boy to look her in the eyes. "Tell me... is there still a lot of water now?"
Stared at by those eyes burning with rage and desire, Jerry was speechless for a moment.
He could only emit muddled whimpers from the depths of his throat. His body swayed passively between the wall and her body like a worn-out toy following McGonagall's impact.
McGonagall seemed satisfied with his reaction.
But merely pinning Jerry to the wall could no longer satisfy the beast awakened within her.
McGonagall let out a cold laugh. Her hands left the wall and slid under Jerry's armpits, easily "plucking" his entire body off the wall.
Jerry's feet kicked wildly in the air, trying to find a foothold, but it was completely futile.
His massive object, still buried deep inside her, became his only and passive support.
Jerry was now like a massive piece of meat skewered on a rotisserie, and McGonagall was the chef in control of everything.
"Hold on tight."
Professor McGonagall spoke in a commanding tone.
Then, she actually began to pace around the small storage room, carrying him on her front—or rather, "wearing" him.
From the side, the image looked bizarre and erotic.
The tall witch with mature curves carried the thin boy behind her like a sack of grain.
The boy's hands grabbed her shoulders randomly, and his legs wrapped weakly around her waist.
And the thing connecting them was that giant object, completely out of size with the boy, being tightly enveloped and swallowed by her full buttock flesh.
With every step McGonagall took, her hips swayed naturally.
Squelch... tap... squelch... tap...
The wet sounds and the sound of body fluids dripping onto the floor blended into the only symphony in this secret room.
But McGonagall soon grew unsatisfied with this gentle pace.
The scene in the storage room was absurd and lewd.
Pop!
McGonagall first bent her knees into a squat, her full buttocks lowering. This movement caused the giant object to slide upward out of her hot passage until only the massive head was barely hooked by the tender flesh of the entrance.
In that instant, one could even see the purple head, glistening with fluid, flashing a lewd light in the dimness.
Immediately after, McGonagall's thigh and abdominal muscles would explode with power. She thrust upward, tossing Jerry's body into the air.
At the moment he reached the highest point and was about to fall due to gravity, she would squat again.
Splurt!!
Every re-penetration was accompanied by a loud, sticky splash.
From the side, one could clearly see how Jerry's thin body was passively slammed against McGonagall's buttocks. A large amount of translucent liquid was squeezed out by the violent impact, dripping continuously down the curves of her inner thighs.
"Professor... stop... ah..."
Jerry's voice was completely out of tune. This extreme drop between weightlessness and penetration made it impossible for him to control his body.
Jerry was like a prisoner fixed to some torture device, forced to endure wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure.
Just when Jerry thought he was going to faint from this crazy up-and-down jostling, Professor McGonagall changed the game again.
She stopped the "drop tower" game, but she didn't put him down.
Clamping him tight, she walked to the lone, dust-covered wooden table in the center of the room.
"The game just now is over."
McGonagall panted, speaking in a nearly cruel, teasing tone. "Now, let's try something with... more technique."
She bent down and placed Jerry's body on the table, but the thing remained buried inside her.
McGonagall laid Jerry flat on the tabletop.
Then, she straddled him in a cowgirl position.
In this posture, she could finally see his young face, flushed from excessive pleasure and streaked with tear tracks.
"What's wrong? Can't handle it already?"
McGonagall reached out, her fingertips stroking his cheek gently. "Where did all that courage you had when you broke in go?"
With that, McGonagall began her performance.
Squelch... squelch...
McGonagall stopped making large movements. Instead, she used the softest and most sensitive tender flesh inside her body to taste the thing filling her in a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree motion.
She leaned forward at times, using her full breasts to squeeze his face.
At other times, she leaned back, exposing the place where they were joined unreservedly.
Jerry lay on the table, feeling like a fish pinned to a cutting board.
He could clearly see how his own member was being swallowed and wrapped by McGonagall's moist, constantly contracting entrance.
Every twist and every rotation of McGonagall's buttocks brought waves of numbing pleasure straight to the top of Jerry's head.
"Mmh... ah... Professor..."
He reached out helplessly, trying to grab onto something, but only caught handfuls of cold air.
"What did you call me?"
McGonagall leaned down, her scalding breath hot against his ear. "At a time like this, you should call me... Minerva."
With that, McGonagall suddenly changed the rhythm.
She stopped the grinding and propped her hands on the table on either side of Jerry's body.
Then, as if riding a horse, she began a rapid and powerful up-and-down pounding.
Splurt! Splurt! Splurt!
Every time she sat down, the weight of her entire body was pressed down without reservation, swallowing the thing to its very depths.
Every time she rose, a string of glistening, thick liquid was drawn out.
Just as McGonagall slammed down on him once more, enjoying the bloated sensation of the giant object penetrating to the very end, Jerry—who had been submitting passively—suddenly moved.
A flash of madness and resolve appeared in Jerry's eyes.
In the moment of being sat upon again, Jerry didn't wave his arms feebly. Instead, he used all his strength to tighten his arms, hugging McGonagall's neck and shoulders desperately like an octopus.
The downward momentum didn't stop there. Instead, it transformed into an irresistible, inward-exploring brute force.
"Ugh-ah!"
This time, the person to let out a suppressed cry of pain was Professor McGonagall.
"You little bastard... you...!"
Her words were broken and incomplete, swallowed by waves of strange spasms.
It wasn't pleasure, but a shameful betrayal of her body under extreme pain.
"Stop... stop... inside there... no..."
Professor McGonagall's voice had lost all its usual authority, leaving only a trembling plea. She had tried to resist with her powerful physique as a witch, clenching her teeth and tensing every inch of muscle.
The veins on the arms McGonagall used to prop herself on the table stood out from the overexertion.
However, any form of resistance proved futile against that pure and stubborn force.
"Ah... mmh-ahhh..."
McGonagall's resistance collapsed completely at this moment.
Her body seemed to lose all support, falling backward powerlessly.
Accompanied by a plunge that bet everything, and a nearly inaudible soft pop, the final barrier was officially declared lost.
Although it was only squeezed out for an instant, it still brought intense stimulation.
"AAAAAHHH! NO!"
The body's reaction surpassed the control of the will.
Professor McGonagall's body snapped upward like a bowstring that had broken after being pulled to its limit.
In that moment, her body left the table completely, forming a startling arc; only her hair and tiptoes remained in contact with the world.
Her limbs spasmed stiffly in mid-air, and her fingers curled randomly, clawing at the air as if searching for a pivot to vent the unbearable torrent.
Her head was tilted back to the limit, her scattered long hair sweeping across the table and kicking up a cloud of fine dust.
All muscles on that usually stern face lost control. The whites of her eyes were almost completely visible, yet the corners of her mouth pulled back into a weird expression, as if she were enduring great pain while experiencing ultimate joy.
A wisp of crystal liquid slid from the corner of her mouth, dripping onto the old wooden table and blooming into a small dark stain.
Then, it was all over.
As if all bones and tendons had been removed, the tense bow-shape collapsed abruptly.
Professor McGonagall's body slumped down heavily, her back flat against the cold table.
Those legs that had been tense from spasms also slid powerlessly to either side, dangling over the edge of the table and swaying gently.
McGonagall's head was tilted to one side, her eyes tightly shut. Her long eyelashes were wet with either sweat or tears. Her face showed no expression; it was terrifyingly calm, as if her soul had completely departed this body along with that ultimate collision.
Everything fell silent. In the storage room, only the slow "drip, drip" of sticky fluid between the two and Jerry's heavy breathing from exhaustion remained.
White light filtered through the dusty windowpanes, casting dappled shadows on the storage room floor.
Jerry gasped, slowly coming back to his senses from that ultimate peak.
He looked down at the woman beneath him. The Transfiguration professor usually known for her strictness and power was now like a pool of melted wax, slumped silently and powerlessly on the cold wooden table.
Jerry chuckled twice, a hint of a boy's triumph after succeeding in his goal.
He was about to say something when he felt the thing still buried deep in the warm body jump restlessly once more.
That giant object, having just released, felt the tendency to rise again within the still-spasming, tight passage.
This subtle pulse seemed to transmit to the unconscious Professor McGonagall as well.
She let out a nearly inaudible moan, her body twitching slightly as her legs instinctively clamped tighter.
"Mmh... don't... take it out..."
In her unconscious state, she actually uttered such a sleep-talk dream.
The soft tenderness seemed to still long for the thing filling her. Instead of rejecting it, she wrapped around it with an almost instinctual posture, trying to retain the intruder about to depart.
This powerful suction made Jerry feel so good he nearly came again on the spot.
He gritted his teeth, enduring the scalp-numbing pleasure, and began to pull his thing out inch by inch.
Every fraction of an inch withdrawn was accompanied by a friction that made his bones go soft.
The massive head retreated with difficulty in the slippery, tight passage, being continuously ground and sucked by layer after layer of the wriggling, retaining tender flesh.
As it was about to leave the deepest checkpoint, the soft flesh there seemed particularly reluctant. It contracted sharply, squeezing a few remaining drops of essence from his tip.
Pop!
Accompanied by a crisp and loud sound like a cork being pulled from a bottle, the shockingly sized giant object finally departed that muddy nursery completely.
A stream of warm, viscous liquid—a mixture of both their scents—flowed from the already overwhelmed entrance following its departure, soaking another patch of the dusty tabletop.
The private place, now empty of its filler, looked somewhat hollow and wretched.
Those originally closed red lips remained slightly agape. One could even see the slightly wriggling pink flesh inside, and traces of milky white that hadn't had time to flow out yet.
The sound seemed to wake the unconscious Professor McGonagall.
Professor McGonagall opened her eyes slowly, her gaze a total blur.
She instinctively raised a hand to cover her slightly bulging lower abdomen, which was still aching faintly. Then she looked at the boy standing by the table. In those green eyes, there was no longer rage, only a complex emotion that was hard to describe.
"You... do you really... not fear that I'll get pregnant?" Professor McGonagall's voice was raspy, carrying a trace of allure she hadn't even noticed.
Jerry didn't answer. He just chuckled and climbed onto the table, pressing his body over hers like a large feline.
With one hand, he grabbed her full breast which was erect from arousal and kneaded it wantonly. With the other, he cupped her face and pressed his lips against hers.
Professor McGonagall did not resist.
She even lifted her head slightly to reciprocate the kiss.
There in the messy storage room, they unreservedly exchanged breaths and fluids.
Two tongues entangled and chased each other clumsily yet fervently, making a series of blush-inducing smack sounds.
The kiss lasted a long time, until the air became thin and scalding.
When their lips finally parted, a wisp of glistening saliva still connected them, gleaming ambiguously in the moonlight. Professor McGonagall's chest heaved violently as she took in deep gulps of hard-won air. Her eyes were misty, and the flush on her cheeks was deeper than before.
Jerry lay quietly on her body like a young beast growing sleepy after eating and drinking its fill. His weight was nothing to Professor McGonagall, but the youthful body, brimming with vitality pressed tightly against her, still brought waves of inexplicable peace and throbbing to her heart.
Only the sound of their interlaced breathing remained in the room.
After a long time, Jerry seemed to get a bit bored. He nuzzled his chin against her soft chest, then asked softly in a childish, curious tone completely different from his wild behavior just now:
"Professor... do you have a dream?"
This question was like a small stone thrown into a deep pool, stirring ripples in Professor McGonagall's heart.
A dream?
This word was so distant to her.
So distant that she had almost forgotten she was once a girl with dreams.
She had dreamed of marrying a beloved Muggle and living an ordinary, happy life; she had dreamed of becoming the world's greatest Transfiguration master, pushing the study of Animagi to new heights...
Hugging this boy, feeling his even breathing, she was in a trance for a moment.
Just then, Jerry, lying on her, made a subtle movement.
He began to rock his hips gently with an extremely slow, grinding rhythm.
That giant object, which had just released and was still slightly soft, rubbed against her muddy private parts, neither lightly nor heavily, stroke by stroke.
Squelch... squelch...
The sticky water sound rang out again.
Every rub seemed to remind her of everything that had just happened with his shockingly sized thing.
Professor McGonagall's hand stroking the back of his head paused slightly.
"Of course I do. What about you... you little bastard!"
"I have one too, my dream!" Jerry's voice sounded from her chest, carrying a muffled echo, but the content was startlingly clear, "It used to be survival. The Rosier family... only has me left."
Jerry's movement didn't stop.
That thing seemed to be regaining strength with his words, becoming hard and hot bit by bit in the soft crevice between her legs.
Professor McGonagall felt this change, her body stiffening involuntarily.
"Now!" Jerry looked up, those clear eyes close at hand, but flashing with a deep and burning light inconsistent with his age, "My only dream is... to make the Rosier family prosperous again."
This sentence, like a silent spell, struck Professor McGonagall's soul.
She froze completely, the arm holding him stopping in mid-air.
Prosperous again?
How could an ancient pure-blood family with only an eleven-year-old boy left become "prosperous"?
The implication behind this word was so straightforward, so... self-evident.
A dusty memory fragment surfaced abruptly and clearly in her mind.
It was not long ago, in Dumbledore's eyes, always full of wisdom behind the half-moon spectacles, a rare trace of worry appeared.
"Minerva!" The old headmaster's voice seemed to still echo in her ears, "You have to pay more attention to that child... Evan Rosier's son. I see Tom's shadow in him."
Tom...
That orphan, also the last bloodline of an ancient family, talented yet ambitious.
Professor McGonagall's pupils contracted sharply.
She looked down at the boy beneath her, at his still childish face, and then felt the shockingly sized giant object pressing against her crotch, fully awakened due to renewed excitement, hard as iron, even starting to throb slightly.
A cold, indescribable fear crawled slowly up her spine.
Jerry keenly sensed the change in her body.
Jerry's cheek, still stained with her body scent, rubbed hard against her soft, full breasts, as if seeking comfort or acting spoiled. Jerry's muffled voice came through a layer of plump soft flesh:
"I want to be the pure-blood wizard with the most births in the entire wizarding world! Make the family prosperous again! Give birth to a platoon, no, a house of children."
Jerry seemed to feel this declaration wasn't shocking enough and added a sentence, tone full of childishness and infinite yearning for honor:
"This way, my name will definitely be recorded in the Ministry of Magic's merit book! The wizard with the most pure-blood offspring in history!"
Merit book?
Professor McGonagall was stunned.
That heavy and cold fear about the Dark Lord that had just risen, like a balloon pricked fiercely by a needle, vanished instantly with a poof.
Replaced by a ridiculousness to the extreme.
Professor McGonagall looked at this little bastard burying his face in her chest, talking about "revitalizing the family" while his body honestly rubbed that thing against her crotch, craving the next round of intercourse.
So, his so-called "prospering the family," the so-called "ambition," in a head full of sex, was just this—breeding with women endlessly, waiting for the Ministry to give him a medal?
This was not a second Voldemort at all.
This was clearly a... downright lustful brat with too much energy and a not-so-bright brain!
"Pfft..."
Professor McGonagall finally couldn't help laughing out loud. That laughter carried a bit of suppression at first, but soon became unstoppable, making her whole body tremble with light laughter. In her eyes, the shadow of fear faded completely, leaving only helplessness, amusement, and a trace of indulgence and doting she hadn't noticed herself.
She looked at this little bastard lying on her, somewhat confused because she laughed, but his lower body still stubbornly pressed hard against her.
Forget it.
Thinking so, Professor McGonagall suddenly reached out.
Her hand, carrying heat and thin calluses, probed down accurately, grasping the giant object already soaked slippery by body fluids and love juices at her crotch, hard and hot due to renewed excitement.
Then, under Jerry's surprised gaze, she held that thing like holding a wand, straightened its position gently, and aimed that massive, still slightly throbbing head precisely at the place still slightly open, seemingly craving something to fill it again.
"Since you have a dream, you have to work hard!"
The wind by the lake carried moisture, blowing coolly on people's cheeks.
Snape pinched that gem between his slender fingers; against his pale bone-china skin, that thing emitted a gloomy luster that seemed to suck away light.
He just glanced at it expressionlessly, then waved his hand without reluctance.
A tiny parabola cut through the gray air, the gem falling into the dark green lake water, not even splashing a decent spray.
However, the moment it entered the water, a white phantom, like a startled, formless fish, flashed past on the gem's sinking trajectory.
Immediately, that dim light disappeared completely into the deep lake water, as if it had never existed.
After doing all this, Snape didn't stay by the lake for a second more.
He gathered his black robe that always seemed to be floating, turned around, and left with his characteristic fast and silent steps without looking back.
Naturally, he didn't notice three heads shrinking back carefully in a dense, waist-high bush in the distance.
"Did you see that? What was that?" Harry lowered his voice, face showing the usual suspicion toward Snape, "He threw something into the lake! That thing glowed!"
"I saw it, Harry, we all saw it."
Hermione frowned, pushing aside the grass blades blocking her view, speaking in her rigorous tone analyzing spells, "But we don't know what that is, maybe some kind of alchemy material? Or a special communication method? Before having evidence, we can't jump to conclusions."
"What else can he have besides dark magic stuff?"
Ron echoed absently, eyes not looking at the direction Snape left, nor looking at the suspicious Harry.
His gaze fell almost subconsciously on Hermione beside him.
The autumn sunlight filtered through the clouds, dappled on her hair, making that thick chestnut curly hair emit a soft halo.
She was back, finally back by their side.
There was an unspeakable rejoicing in Ron's heart; that feeling was like a stone hanging for a long time finally landing.
But what followed were more questions stuck in his throat but not knowing where to ask.
Where had she been during this time?
Why did she suddenly alienate them?
Is she... okay?
These questions were like a mess of hemp, entangled in his heart.
Ron looked at Hermione's serious thinking profile, finally swallowing all words, just silently moving closer to her.
But Hermione seemed to sense something, her body backing away involuntarily.
That excessive, almost draining physical exertion made Jerry feel his legs filled with lead with every step.
His lower back was sore, muscles on the inner thighs still twitching slightly, and the deep part of his body seemed to retain the scorching afterglow of being tightly wrapped.
He was dizzy now, urgently needing a large amount of food to replenish energy.
He pushed open the heavy oak doors of the Great Hall; noisy human voices and the aroma of food hit him.
Today seemed to be Parent's Day; the Great Hall not only had students wearing robes of various colors but also many adults dressed differently. The whole hall appeared several times livelier than usual.
Jerry walked straight to the Slytherin long table, sat down almost with a plop, grabbing a roast chicken leg casually and stuffing it into his mouth.
He was hungry enough to eat a cow.
He just took two bites when a gentle female voice sounded beside him, carrying a trace of uncertainty:
"Excuse me... are you Jerry?"
Jerry paused, looking up somewhat impatiently.
However, when he saw the person's appearance clearly, the displeasure on his face restrained slightly.
Standing beside him was a quite beautiful adult woman, looking over thirty, with elegant chestnut curly hair, wearing a decent Muggle suit, exquisite makeup on her face.
Jerry recognized her.
It was Hermione Granger's mother, whom he had met once at Platform 9¾.
He was a bit puzzled as to why a Muggle would appear here.
But then he remembered it was Parents' Day today, so it made sense.
Mrs. Granger evidently recognized him as well, and she seemed completely unaware of the deep-seated animosity between Slytherin and Gryffindor students; seeing a familiar face, she walked over naturally.
Jerry nodded in acknowledgement.
Seeing him acknowledge her, Mrs. Granger revealed a friendly smile, one that made the fine lines at the corners of her eyes look exceptionally charming.
"It really is you! I was afraid I might be mistaken. I'm Hermione's mother; we met at the station last time." She said, sitting down naturally in the empty seat next to Jerry. "Hermione just went to the washroom with her friends, and I was a bit bored sitting alone. You don't mind if I sit here, do you?"
"Of course, please sit!"
Jerry still had a large chunk of chicken in his mouth, mumbling a response as his attention returned to the food before him.
"You don't look very well; are you feeling under the weather?"
Mrs. Granger looked at his somewhat pale complexion and the faint dark circles under his eyes, asking with concern, "Is studying too hard on you?"
Listening to the gentle greeting in his ear.
A thought, like a stone thrown into a dark pool, rippled silently in the bottom of his heart.
This woman before him shared similar chestnut curly hair and facial contours with that interesting little lioness, but her figure was more mature and voluptuous. Her eyes held a unique allure belonging to an adult woman, refined by time.
Compared to the green Hermione, she had a completely different flavor.
If...
Thinking of this, Jerry stopped chewing.
He felt his body, which had just calmed down, showing signs of recovery again.
On the other side, although Mrs. Granger still wore a proper smile, a trace of imperceptible disappointment rose in her heart.
As one of the few Muggle parents here, she could clearly feel an invisible barrier.
The wizard parents around her in strange clothes didn't explicitly show anything, but that bone-deep alienation toward ordinary people was like a thin membrane, isolating her from this lively hall.
They discussed topics she couldn't understand, using looks she couldn't comprehend.
Even this classmate of Hermione she just met seemed to be ignoring her.
Just as she felt awkward and was about to find an excuse to leave, the boy beside her suddenly changed.
Jerry put down the chicken leg, picked up a napkin, and unhurriedly wiped his mouth and hands.
He turned around, looking truly and seriously at the beautiful woman beside him for the first time.
"Hello, Mrs. Granger." Jerry's voice became clear and polite. "I apologize for the sight; I was just... a bit too hungry.
Are you alone?
Would you like me to keep you company and chat?"
This sudden shift left Mrs. Granger somewhat flattered.
She looked at the boy who suddenly acted like a little gentleman, and the disappointment from being given the cold shoulder was instantly dispelled.
"Oh, hello, hello."
She quickly responded with a smile. "It's nothing; boys are at the age where they grow, so eating more is expected. I just thought you... looked very tired."
"I'm alright." A smile appeared on Jerry's face—just right, with a hint of shyness—making him look completely like a sensible good student. "I've just been researching a rather complex 'project' lately, which took some energy.
Speaking of which, I've always felt Hermione is the smartest girl in the grade; this must be due to your excellent genes, right?"
This half-true compliment, paired with Jerry's pretense of maturity mixed with boyish shyness, scratched Mrs. Granger right where she itched.
She froze for a moment, then covered her mouth with a handkerchief, letting out a string of crisp, melodious laughter like silver bells.
"Hehe... you child, you really have a sweet mouth."
Her body trembled slightly with her laughter, and her full breasts, wrapped in the fitted suit, heaved along with it.
Mrs. Granger clearly didn't notice Jerry's overly scorching gaze; she was simply immersed in the joy of being praised by a handsome boy.
The slight restraint and discomfort she originally felt from being in a strange environment vanished instantly.
"But you're right!" Mrs. Granger put down her handkerchief, her eyes shining with maternal pride. "Our Hermione has loved reading more than other children since she was little, and she's much smarter too."
The two chatted back and forth.
Jerry knew how to measure his words perfectly. Sometimes he acted like a fanboy admiring her daughter, praising Hermione to the skies; other times he would chat about Hogwarts history and anecdotes. His extensive knowledge and conversation skills far beyond his peers made Mrs. Granger feel this boy was increasingly charming.
However, this harmonious atmosphere didn't last too long.
At a dining table not far away, a wizard father seemed to feel his black tea was too hot. He casually drew his wand and tapped the cup; a wisp of white cold air rose, and the tea's temperature instantly became just right.
The smile on Mrs. Granger's face stiffened imperceptibly upon seeing this scene, and then slowly faded away.
She had turned back into that out-of-place, ordinary person.
Here, everything Mrs. Granger was proud of—whether it was her respectable profession as a doctor or her ability to manage a happy family—seemed so pale and powerless.
Mrs. Granger was like a mortal who had stumbled into a banquet of the gods, only able to watch the people around her casually perform various incredible "miracles," while she herself couldn't even comprehend the simplest "Ignition Spell."
A deep sense of loss and alienation shrouded her once more.
"What's wrong, Madam?" Jerry keenly captured the change in her emotions.
"It's nothing..." she forced a thin smile, "I'm just... a little envious of you all."
"To be able to live in such a... magical world."
Jerry remained silent for a moment.
Then, he reached his hand out toward her, palm turned upward.
"Madam, could you give me your hand?"
Mrs. Granger was somewhat confused, but looking into those sincere eyes, she still instinctively placed her palm onto Jerry's.
Jerry did not make any out-of-line movements.
Jerry simply used his other hand to slowly remove a silver ring from his thumb—one with an ancient design, engraved with a serpentine family crest.
Then, with a firmness that brooked no refusal, he slid it onto Mrs. Granger's ring finger.
The ring was a perfect fit; the cool touch of the metal made the skin of her fingertip shrink slightly.
"This ring... it's beautiful."
Mrs. Granger was about to offer a polite compliment, but she suddenly felt something.
A strange yet gentle surge of energy flowed from the ring, instantly coursing through her entire body.
She looked up in shock, gazing at her surroundings.
The entire world felt as if a magnificent curtain had been pulled back at that moment, revealing its most primal, gorgeous, and true form.
The air was no longer empty; it was filled with countless shimmering, multicolored specks of light, each no larger than a grain of rice.
The red sparks were as passionate as fire, the blue ones as serene as water, the green full of vitality, and the yellow heavy and stable...
These specks of light were like tiny sprites with their own independent consciousness, happily circling, chasing, and dancing before her eyes.
Around the wizard father who had just cooled his black tea with his wand, several particularly lively bands of blue light were entwined.
This was... magic?
Mrs. Granger's lips parted slightly, her eyes filled with an unbelievable sense of shock.
In over thirty years of life, this was the first time she "saw" the magical world her daughter had always talked about.
In her excitement, Mrs. Granger wanted to grasp onto something; she instinctively lowered her head, her gaze piercing through the gap in the tablecloth to look beneath the table.
There, between Jerry's legs, was a... "thing."
It wasn't emitting light, but she could "see" it nonetheless.
Around the object, a layer of crimson luster, as thick as blood and nearly physical, was tightly coiled.
What was that?
Jerry's wand?
In Mrs. Granger's mind, nothing remained but a pure, childlike curiosity.
She was so utterly captivated by this unprecedented sight that she forgot all etiquette and the occasion.
Her body moved entirely on impulse, her hand reaching out beneath the table to touch that "rod-like object" radiating such dense, red light.
Her fingertips first brushed against a patch of soft fabric.
Then, through the cloth, she felt something warm, rock-hard, and distinctly shaped.
A solid mass... that was pulsating ever so slightly.
By instinct, she wrapped her entire hand around it in a firm grip.
The size and the sheer texture of it—this was definitely no wand.
As a medical doctor, she was intimately familiar with human anatomy.
As a mature woman married for many years, she knew with absolute certainty exactly what she was clutching in her palm.
However, the influence of the ring was warping her rational mind.
That ancient serpent ring acted as a key, forcibly prying open a sensory world she had never accessed as a mundane human.
The colorful, playful motes of light in the air continued their frantic dance.
Mrs. Granger was, after all, just an ordinary human.
Her mental strength—or rather, her willpower—appeared incredibly fragile under the impact of such a massive, unprecedented flood of sensory information.
Mrs. Granger's rationality told her she should let go immediately and apologize in a panicked flurry.
Yet her body, and even her very senses, were deeply captivated by that novel, primal "magic" brimming with raw vital energy, and they completely refused to obey her.
Her hand, instead of letting go, uncontrollably tightened its grip.
Driven by the clinical curiosity of researching the unknown, she even tentatively slid her fingers up and down along that rigid, stiff contour.
"Mmh..."
Mrs. Granger instinctively looked up.
Jerry's face had already turned a deep, burning crimson from this sudden caress through the fabric of his trousers.
The corners of his mouth, which had held a polite smile just moments ago, were now pressed into a thin, tight line.
A fine layer of sweat had even broken out across his forehead.
His hand resting on the dining table had, at some point, gripped the edge of the table with white-knuckled intensity.
Seeing him in this state, Mrs. Granger felt as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped over her head, and she suddenly snapped back to reality.
What... what on earth was she doing?
In the Great Hall of Hogwarts, in full view of everyone, she put her hand into the crotch of an eleven-year-old boy and... she touched him?