Absolute darkness and deathly silence are forms of torture sufficient to drive most creatures insane.
In this cell, completely isolated from light and sound, time had lost all meaning.
There was no alternation of day and night, only eternal, cold, and sticky darkness, wrapping everything like a heavy shroud.
Elania sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, her eyes lightly closed, her breathing steady and long.
Her posture did not resemble that of a prisoner, but rather looked as if she were by the holy pool of her own temple, performing her daily routine of meditation.
Katherine, or rather the powerful wizard who truly imprisoned her here, had clearly underestimated the innate talent of a Forest Elf.
For an elf accustomed to living in lush, sun-blocking ancient forests, using moonlight and starlight as guides, pure darkness was not terrifying; it was simply another form of tranquility.
Having lost the interference of external senses, Elania's inner perception was instead amplified as never before.
She could "hear" the sound of her blood flowing through her veins, "feel" every steady and powerful throb of her heart, and "touch" every sliver of life force slowly recovering within her body.
Elania sank her consciousness into the deepest part of her body, like diving to the bottom of a serene lake.
Those life meridians that had once become dim and withered due to the excessive consumption of life force were, under Elania's patient guidance, bit by bit regaining their vitality.
The magic power sent from her heart, carrying a faint scent of nature, flowed like warm streams through her limbs and bones, nourishing every inch of damaged tissue.
The most significant change was reflected in her hair.
Initially, that long hair had turned a lifeless silver-white due to the casting of forbidden arts that drained her life essence.
But now, starting from the roots, strands of pure gold, like the rising sun, were tenaciously growing out, gradually swallowing and replacing the silver-white.
The deep red welts left on her body from being bound by rough ropes were also, under this internal nourishment, slowly fading and smoothing over.
Her skin became smooth and elastic once again, restoring the delicate texture an elf ought to have.
Instead of collapsing as expected, she was utilizing this isolated environment to undergo a thorough, inside-out self-repair.
Just then, that deep internal tranquility constructed by Elania was broken by an abrupt sound.
Tap... tap... tap...
A series of steady, unhurried footsteps came from the corridor outside the dungeon, clearly penetrating the heavy stone door and echoing in this absolute silence.
Elania's meditation was instantly terminated.
Her eyes snapped open in the darkness. In those eyes about to restore their pure gold color, there was not a hint of the confusion of just waking from meditation, only the most primal alertness of a predator being disturbed.
This was not the witch named Katherine.
Her footsteps were lighter, faster, carrying a feline-like elegance and arrogance.
These were the footsteps of a man.
Powerful, with intervals between each step precise as if measured by a ruler, revealing a completely different kind of composure belonging to a superior.
A stranger.
Without the slightest hesitation.
The flow of life energy in Elania's body instantly withdrew, settling back into the deepest part of her body.
With a swift and silent movement, Elania shifted from a cross-legged sitting position to lying on her side.
She grabbed the wizarding robe Katherine had tossed on the ground, which still carried that woman's scent, and draped it carelessly over herself, curling most of her body beneath the fabric.
Elania deliberately relaxed all her muscles, making her posture look exhausted and weak, like a prisoner unable to endure the torture who had fallen into a stupor.
Elania adjusted her breathing, forcing it to become long and even, mimicking the frequency of deep sleep.
However, beneath this defenseless disguise, all of Elania's senses had been mobilized to the extreme. Elania's ears captured the footsteps getting closer outside the door, distinguishing the subtle sound of leather soles rubbing against the stone floor.
Elania heard the click of a metal key being inserted into the lock, and heard the heavy bolt being slowly turned with a tooth-grinding friction.
Elania knew the door was about to open.
Who was this person?
What was he doing here?
Elania's heart was racing, but her body remained motionless.
The long-suppressed instinct of a forest hunter was awakening.
This was not a crisis; this might be... an opportunity.
An opportunity to observe, to test, or even to escape this place.
After the heavy and tooth-grinding sound of metal friction, the stone door slowly opened inward.
Jerry walked in, carrying a wooden platter.
The dungeon was pitch black, but he seemed not to care at all.
Jerry simply waved his hand casually toward the wall, and the candle holders that had been empty for who knows how many years instantly ignited with flames that weren't overly bright.
The light dispelled the darkness and illuminated the figure huddled in the corner.
Elania remained lying on her side, the robe draped loosely over her, her breathing steady as if she knew nothing of the changes in the outside world.
Jerry's gaze fell on her, staying for less than a second.
The corner of Jerry's mouth curled into a playful smile that did not match his age.
He did not walk over immediately, but first placed the wooden platter in his hand gently on the only stone table in the center of the dungeon.
Bread and clear water were placed on one side of the table.
On the other side were several plates of steaming dishes radiating a rich aroma.
It was Chinese stir-fry he had made himself, with a rich dark sauce and a glistening oily sheen.
This was also the thing he did most often in this fortress.
After finishing all this, he slowly turned around and looked at the elf who was still "asleep."
"Stop pretending, Your Highness."
Jerry's voice was calm, carrying the clarity unique to a youth, yet possessed a coldness that saw through everything. "Your heartbeat is louder than the waves outside."
Elania's body experienced an almost imperceptible moment of stagnation.
Having her disguise pierced so easily made her feel a hint of shame and annoyance.
However, Elania still sat up with an elegant movement, allowing the robe on her body to slide down to her waist, revealing her unshielded upper body.
Elania's skin shimmered with an ivory luster in the firelight, and that long golden hair, which had mostly recovered, was draped over her shoulders and back like a waterfall.
Without a shred of shyness, she simply used her emerald-green eyes, filled with scrutiny and alertness, to stare coldly at the youth before her.
A human boy.
He wasn't tall, and his face still carried traces of lingering childishness.
However, Elania's sharp intuition as a High Elf regarding the essence of the soul was frantically sending her warnings.
The youth before her was like a black lake, surface calm and waveless, yet bottomless.
Standing at the edge of the lake, one couldn't see what kind of terrifying monster lurked beneath the water due to the lighting, but one could feel that suffocating danger stemming from the unknown.
This feeling did not come from the magical fluctuations Jerry emitted—in fact, his magical fluctuations were very weak, retracted to the point of being almost non-existent.
Nor did it come from his eyes—his gaze was calm, even carrying a few points of the curiosity belonging to a youth.
It was something more essential, transcending power and emotion.
It was... the scent of a predator.
Jerry cared nothing for Elania's complex gaze. He pulled out the chair by the stone table and sat down, taking up chopsticks on his own to pick up a piece of glistening red-braised pork and putting it into his mouth.
"Mmh... the salt is just right."
Jerry seemed to be talking to himself, chewing while emitting a satisfied hum. "I imagine elves aren't used to eating such greasy things, right?"
"So, your dinner is only that."
Jerry pointed with his chin toward the bread and water on the other side of the table.
Elania did not move.
She just watched Jerry eat.
Watching Jerry use those hands that still looked very young to skillfully use chopsticks, sending those foods she had never seen before—radiating an enticing aroma—into his mouth bite by bite.
The dungeon was quiet, save for the subtle sound of him chewing and the faint sizzle of the dishes from the heat.
After an unknown amount of time, Elania's stomach emitted an untimely, faint, and suppressed gurgle.
She had not eaten for a long time.
Jerry acted as if he hadn't heard, picking up another chopstick-full of stir-fried greens and eating with great relish.
Elania's throat rolled involuntarily.
That aroma, a mix of soy sauce, spices, and animal fats, was like an invisible hand, constantly scraping her taste buds and tempting her empty stomach and intestines.
Finally, Elania moved.
The robe slid completely off her, piling onto the ground.
Elania walked naked, with steps as elegant as if she were strolling in her own garden, to the stone table.
Her gaze fell upon the plate of red-braised pork.
"I want to taste it." Her voice was cold, as if stating a fact rather than making a request.
Jerry looked up, looked at her, then looked at the meat, and smiled.
"Sure."
In Jerry's eyes, Elania was surrounded by a faint, almost transparent silver halo.
That was the sturdy mental barrier she had formed as a Forest Elf Princess under long-term high pressure and strict requirements.
However, when her gaze fell on the pork and she said "I want to taste it," a trace of pink representing "desire" and a trace of light blue representing "uncertainty" clearly drifted through that silver halo.
Jerry smiled, but did not propose any humiliating exchange conditions as he had before.
Jerry simply rinsed the chopsticks he had used in the clear water and handed them to Elania.
"But, you have to use these."
He pointed to the chopsticks. "These are the tools we humans use for eating. Just like you elves use leaves to wrap food, it's a type of... etiquette."
"As if you eat with leaves!"
Elania furrowed her beautiful brows.
In her previous studies of the wizarding world, she had only seen knives and forks; she had never seen these strange little wooden sticks.
She tentatively took the chopsticks and tried to control them with her fingers as Jerry had done.
However, those two smooth little sticks were exceptionally disobedient between her slender fingers. Though she picked up a slice of meat on the first try, her fingers became somewhat stiff.
That light blue halo representing "uncertainty" had clearly deepened by now, even mixing with a trace of pale red representing "annoyance."
"Don't use so much force."
Jerry's voice was very gentle. He did not mock her; instead, he reached out and covered Elania's hand with his own.
"Look, like this. Control the top one with these three fingers so it can move."
"The bottom one stays still, supported by this finger."
He adjusted Elania's fingers, guiding her with a patience that bordered on teaching.
His movements were very gentle, carrying a maturity and steadiness that contradicted his appearance.
It was as if he were not training a prisoner in a dungeon, but teaching a slow classmate in a Hogwarts classroom.
Under Jerry's guidance, Elania finally successfully picked up a small piece of crystal-clear, wobbling red-braised pork.
"See, you learned."
Jerry released his hand, his face revealing a sincere smile that carried a hint of imperceptible approval. "You're smart, much faster than most humans the first time they learn."
Elania was slightly startled.
"Smart"... she had heard this word countless times.
Her teachers and her subjects had all used this word to describe her.
But those words always carried a sense of natural expectation and pressure.
The praise from the youth before her, however, was different.
It was pure appreciation, without any attached conditions.
Elania looked at Jerry's youthful face, then at his overly steady eyes and his movements that were too skilled for a boy.
She suddenly felt that this boy who had imprisoned her might be the same as her.
Equally forced to mature early, equally needing to face the world with a posture that did not belong to their age.
She silently put that piece of pork into her mouth.
The rich aroma of sauce, mixed with the deliciousness of meat fats and a hint of sweetness from the rock sugar, instantly exploded on her taste buds.
This complex and intense flavor was something she had never experienced in the forest.
It was novel and dominant, but... it was delicious.
She chewed in small bites, her posture still elegant, but those emerald-green eyes unconsciously revealed a hint of satisfaction.
"Eat slowly, there's plenty more."
Jerry picked up another bit of food for himself, saying casually, "Don't blame me if it's not good; a lot of things I just figured out on my own."
"This food... you made it?"
Elania picked up a piece of vegetable, her movements already much more skillful than at the start.
She asked seemingly casually while eating.
"Most of it, yeah!"
Jerry answered offhandedly. "There's no one else in the castle anyway. If I want to eat, I have to do it myself."
"Is this place also a secret realm?"
"Of course, similar to yours."
Jerry smiled, but the words he spoke made the air in the dungeon turn several degrees colder. "I must say, your elven hiding magic is indeed brilliant. If I hadn't known something fishy was going on, I might not have found it."
Elania's hand holding the chopsticks moved slightly, but she quickly regained her composure.
"So, it was you?"
"It was me."
Jerry admitted it crisply and clearly, as if speaking of an insignificant trifle.
"Your companions provoked me, along with those human wizards whose brains you washed. I don't like trouble, so I cleaned them up while I was at it."
"...While you were at it?"
"Mmh."
Jerry nodded and took another piece of meat. "I thought about it and decided to call a stone down from the sky to flatten your little garden, along with that big tree inside. It's cleaner that way, saves anyone from finding their way back there in the future."
He spoke lightheartedly, but Elania felt a chill in her heart.
A meteorite from beyond the sky... the Ancient Tree of War...
Elania did not show much grief or anger.
As a Princess, Elania was well aware of the mission she carried.
To protect the secret realm and her people, Elania had already given her all. She had tried, she had fought, and the final failure was not her fault.
So, her conscience was clear.
It was just... a bit of a pity.
When that Ancient Tree of War was still a sapling, Elania would run to the tree almost every day and sing to it.
Elania watched it grow bit by bit, sprout tender buds, become lush with branches and leaves, and finally become the guardian of the secret realm.
And it also watched Elania grow bit by bit until she became the successor to the next Elven Queen.
Now, along with those memories, it had all come to nothing.
Elania ate in silence, swallowing the bit of emotion churning in her heart along with the food.
Soon, the dishes on the table were wiped clean by the two of them.
Elania seemed truly famished; even those pieces of bread she had initially disliked for being dry were carefully torn into small pieces and dipped in the oily sauce on the plates before being stuffed into her mouth. Not a bit was wasted.
"You seem to like it."
Jerry looked at her, his eyes carrying a hint of interest. "Tomorrow night I'll make a few more of my specialty dishes for you."
His gaze lingered without avoidance on Elania's naked breasts, which appeared even fuller now that she was sated.
Those two mounds of snowy soft flesh resembled ripe cantaloupes in size and shape, the nipples at the tips showing a healthy pink color.
Elania noticed his gaze, but she did not dodge. Instead, she pushed her chest out openly, allowing her body curves to be displayed more clearly before him.
"Can I have a bed?"
Elania spoke, her voice cold yet carrying an undeniable edge. "The floor here... is too cold."
Jerry laughed, stood up from the chair, walked to the door, and cleared a path.
"Go find a room in the castle for yourself."
Jerry appeared very generous. "Except for my room and Katherine's, you can pick any of them. There are magical marks on the doors; once you write your true name on one with your blood, only you will be able to enter that room. Of course..."
Jerry paused, adding in a matter-of-fact tone: "Katherine and I can also enter."
"As for anything else, I won't say it."
Jerry looked at Elania, his eyes becoming deeper. "Just don't do anything... that would make you regret it."
"By the way, wash the dishes and clean the castle."
"Katherine is busy with her N.E.W.T. tests lately, so I'll be the one bringing you food."
"When I came up just now, I saw spiderwebs and dust on the stairs."
"I like things tidy."
As Jerry walked down the stairs, the composure and playfulness on his face vanished as quickly as a receding tide.
Just now, the moment he watched Elania take her first bite of red-braised pork, a cold and emotionless voice had rung out directly in the depths of his mind.
[Forced Mission Triggered: Dog Training Technique]
[Mission Objective: Completely domesticate the Elf Princess 'Elania' within one month.]
[Mission Requirements: Dual mental and physical reconstruction, making her completely discard her identity as a 'Princess' and instead identify with and accept a new identity.]
[Mission Success: Family Prestige +100.]
[Mission Failure: Will trigger a chain-reaction immediate deterioration penalty for the activated mission [Elf's Revenge].]
Almost simultaneously, another mission panel popped up, and its content had changed.
[Mission Triggered: Elf's Revenge]
[Mission Background: You have pushed the Forest Elf race to the center of a storm in the wizarding world's public opinion, but you underestimated the connection between members of this ancient race...]
[Original Mission Content: Remain hidden. Within seven days, find the elf leading this retaliatory action and completely eliminate all threats it poses to you.]
[Mission Status Change: Due to the triggering of the forced mission [Dog Training Technique], the time limit for this mission is extended to one month. If [Dog Training Technique] fails, this mission will immediately enter the final stage, and all hidden elf avengers will launch a lethal attack on you simultaneously.]
[Current Progress: Unknown.]
[Reward/Penalty: Unknown.]
Jerry stopped walking and leaned against the cold wall.
The "Elf's Revenge" mission had been triggered as soon as he finished the Elf Slaughterhouse scam.
Originally, he had intended to set a trap to lure out the big fish hiding in the dark and settle it once and for all.
But now, the appearance of the forced mission "Dog Training Technique" had completely disrupted his plans.
A month's time sounded much more generous than seven days.
But these two missions were forcefully tied together.
The difficulty of domesticating a proud and haughty Elven Princess could well be imagined.
And once he failed, what he would face was a full-scale, life-and-death pursuit from the entire elf race.
If he succeeded, the gains were great.
If he failed, the consequences were severe.
Jerry rubbed his temples.
In other words, there was only one path before him now: he must, within a month, turn that seemingly noble and elegant Elven Princess into nothing more than a dog that only knew how to wag its tail and beg for mercy.
"Interesting!"
The Quidditch pitch was vast and boundless, the towering stands looking somewhat lonely under the autumn sky.
Today was Jerry's first flying lesson, and a class all the first-year freshmen had been looking forward to. Although the course itself was full of speed and passion, Hogwarts had never been lax about safety.
The entire pitch was wrapped in precise levitation spells, like a massive, transparent magical bubble.
During lessons or matches, this spell would remain active. If a little wizard accidentally fell from their broom and reached a certain speed, the levitation spell would automatically activate, gently catching them and delivering them steadily back to the ground.
This was why, although flying lessons seemed fraught with danger, Hogwarts had never seen any accidental injuries—after all, every wizard was a precious combatant, and there was no need for losses in a course teaching a basic skill like getting a driver's license.
Under the commands of Professor Maria Hooch, the little wizards clumsily attempted to make their brooms obey their instructions.
Jerry, like most of his classmates, pretended to struggle with his attempts.
Jerry's broom would occasionally wobble up a few feet, then slam back to the ground, making him look like a complete flying novice.
After a series of stumbling attempts, Jerry heard footsteps from behind, and a quick glance told him who it was.
It was the twin sisters.
They appeared on either side of Jerry. Padma spoke first, her voice carrying a trace of provocative sweetness: "Look, our Little Prince of Slytherin can't even domesticate a broom?"
Parvati giggled, her brown eyes—identical to her sister's—flashing with a cunning light. She leaned down, moving close to Jerry's ear, her scented breath brushing lightly against his skin: "Want to make a bet with us, Jerry?"
Jerry turned his head, the corner of his mouth hooking into a playful arc. "Oh? What do you want to bet on this time?" He looked at the two, his gaze moving between their similar faces and the section of thigh wrapped in stockings exposed beneath their skirts.
Padma took a step forward, nearly pressing against Jerry's front, her high chest rising and falling slightly with her breath (it looked as though she had padded her bra).
"Simple. We bet whether you can master broom flight before this class ends. If you win, we'll agree to one more unrestricted mission requirement for you."
When she said "unrestricted," her tone was laced with temptation.
Parvati followed up with the second half, her voice becoming deeper, carrying a hint of ambiguous threat: "But if you lose... hmph, besides giving us new jewelry, you'll have to put on that... 'little toy' you gave Padma before."
Parvati's gaze moved down, stopping at Jerry's buttocks, as she revealed a meaningful smile. "And this time, it won't be you putting it on yourself in secret. We two sisters will help you put it on with our own hands."
Hearing this, the smile on Jerry's face became deeper.
He looked at the two, feeling the heated provocation in their words.
Jerry did not answer immediately, but simply rubbed his chin with his thumb, as if seriously considering the pros and cons of this "bet."
"Oh? Put it on with your own hands?"
His voice carried a deliberate drawl. His gaze swept from Parvati's long legs wrapped in black stockings back to Padma's pretty face.
Padma's cheeks flushed slightly, but her gaze became even more determined. "That's right, with our own hands," she emphasized.
Jerry finally laughed, a bit wickedly.
"Deal."
He reached out and gave each sister's palm a light pat; the girls' touch was soft and elastic.
"But if I win, don't you go crying."
Just as Jerry and the Patil sisters reached their "friendly" agreement, another figure approached.
It was Hermione.
Like the vast majority of the girls present, to prevent flashing while flying, she had wrapped herself up tightly today.
The hem of her school robe was carefully tucked in, and she was wearing a pair of thick wool trousers underneath.
In contrast, the Patil sisters, who were still wearing stockings and cared nothing for the view beneath their skirts, became an exceptionally eye-catching presence in the crowd.
Hermione's gaze swept from Parvati's legs wrapped in mysterious black stockings to Padma's pure-white-as-snow stockings. In those clever brown eyes, a flash of undisguised contempt appeared.
"What are you all talking about?"
Hermione's voice carried its usual curiosity, as if she were simply looking to join a normal conversation between classmates.
The Patil sisters exchanged a glance; naturally, they weren't about to tell an "outsider" like Hermione about their private, erotic bet.
Parvati gave a dismissive smile and waved her hand: "It's nothing, just a bit of casual chatter."
With that, she grabbed Padma and gleefully turned back toward the Gryffindor line, looking as if she had already won the gamble.
Hermione watched them walk away, letting out a faint, almost inaudible huff before turning her attention back to Jerry.
"Jerry," she said, looking down at the broom by her feet with frustration, her small face scrunched up beneath her bushy brown curls, "Why is this flying so difficult?"
Jerry raised an eyebrow in surprise.
It was the first time he had ever heard the word "difficult" from the mouth of the girl who insisted on being first in everything.
Jerry looked at Hermione's hands gripping the broom handle so tightly her knuckles were white, then at her slightly pale lips, and he understood instantly.
The brilliant Miss Granger was, in all likelihood, afraid of heights.
For someone used to solving every problem with logic and book knowledge, this sensation of leaving the ground and being weightless brought a primal fear that theory couldn't overcome.
"Hey, Malfoy! Let me borrow your broom for a second."
Jerry's voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly to the other side of the pitch.
Draco Malfoy was currently straddling his brand-new Nimbus 2000, rocking his body back and forth, trying to make the top-tier broom obey him.
However, no matter how hard he tried, the expensive broom remained as if nailed to the grass, motionless.
Hearing Jerry's call, Malfoy paused, a flash of hesitation and reluctance crossing his face.
But under the gaze of so many people, he stood up, carrying the gleaming broom, and walked over with his signature aristocratic stride.
"What for? Don't you dare scratch it; I only just waxed it this morning."
Malfoy's tone was full of boastful vanity and suspicion.
Jerry rolled his eyes without ceremony. "Don't be a cheapskate. If I scratch it, I'll buy you a new one. Besides, you could wiggle your ass on that thing all morning and it still wouldn't fly. Let me show you how it's done."
With a wave of his hand toward the air, Jerry summoned the plain, generic training broom at his feet into his grasp.
Jerry tossed the training broom to Malfoy and straddled the Nimbus 2000 without hesitation.
The touch of a top-tier broom was indeed different—smooth, solid, and pulsing with magic ready to burst.
But Jerry didn't take off immediately; instead, he turned to the still-conflicted Hermione and said, "Get on. I'll take you up so you can feel it."
Hermione's cheeks instantly flushed a deep crimson.
She looked around frantically, first glancing at Professor Hooch—who had clearly underestimated the guts and ability of these young wizards and was lazily chatting with someone via a crystal ball.
Then, her gaze landed on Ron and Harry in the distance. They were staring straight at them, and Ron already had an expression like he was about to walk over.
While Hermione was wavering, Malfoy spoke up sourly: "Jerry, that's my broom. Maybe... you should take me up to feel it instead?"
That sentence acted like a trigger.
The moment Hermione heard it, all her shyness and hesitation were thrown to the wind.
Without even thinking, she stepped forward and decisively hopped on behind Jerry.
Because she moved so quickly, she was still clutching her own disobedient broom tightly.
Jerry reached back, took Hermione's broom, and tossed it to the stunned Malfoy. "Sorry, Draco," he said without looking back.
"You seem to have put on some weight recently. I might not be able to carry you."
Before he even finished the sentence, Jerry leaned forward slightly, and the nose of the Nimbus 2000 dipped.
"Ah!"
The sudden weightlessness made Hermione cry out. Her instincts took over, and she wrapped her arms tightly around Jerry's waist from behind.
Her soft breasts were pressed unreservedly and firmly against Jerry's back.
The moment she gripped him tight, Jerry's feet kicked off the grass with force.
The Nimbus 2000 let out a light, whistling roar. Like an arrow from a bow, it carried the two of them into the air, turning into a dark blur that shot straight toward the blue sky.
The black shadow streaked across the lawn, and the young wizards on the ground let out a collective gasp of awe.
"Merlin's beard! Look at that!"
"He's actually flying!"
Draco Malfoy's face first showed a flash of shock, which was quickly replaced by a complex mix of pride and jealousy.
He straightened his back and announced to the equally stunned Crabbe and Goyle in a boastful tone: "See that? That's my Nimbus 2000! Only the most elite broom could have speed like that!"
Ron Weasley's face turned beet-red. He watched the shrinking black dot in the sky, then looked at the worn-out, multi-generational broom at his feet, and a surge of competitive spirit rose within him.
He hurriedly mounted his broom, muttering, "Up!" However, the broom only gave a symbolic wobble and stayed put.
On the other side, Harry Potter fared better.
Harry seemed to have a natural instinct for flying.
He mounted his broom and, with a silent thought, the broom obediently carried him into the air, albeit shakily.
Unfortunately, Harry clearly didn't have full control yet. He flew crookedly, his altitude hovering within just a few feet of the ground, looking like a hatchling learning to fly.
But on the other side of the crowd, the Patil sisters had the most dramatic reactions.
Padma's pretty mouth hung open wide enough to fit an egg.
Parvati covered her mouth with both hands, her large brown eyes wide with disbelief.
"That bastard..." Padma muttered to herself. "He... he was definitely faking it just now!"
"We lost again..." Parvati's voice carried a hint of a sob and frustration, but more than that, it held an irrepressible excitement and anticipation.
High in the sky, the wind howled.
Hermione kept her eyes squeezed shut, her face buried in Jerry's back, her hands gripping his waist as if she would plummet from the heights if she let go.
She could feel the broom beneath them climbing rapidly. The intense weightlessness and the rushing air made her heart feel as if it were about to leap out of her chest.
"Hey, Miss Granger, open your eyes and look."
Jerry's voice pierced through the wind, reaching her ears with a steady, reassuring calm. "Otherwise, you'll miss the most beautiful view of Hogwarts."
Hermione's body was still shaking uncontrollably, but Jerry's words were like a devil's temptation, sparking a hint of curiosity.
She tentatively, slowly, opened a tiny slit of her eyes.
What met her gaze was the Quidditch pitch, shrunk a thousand times over like a green carpet.
Hogwarts Castle glittered in the sunlight in the distance, its familiar towers and spires presented from a brand-new, magnificent perspective.
Further out was the shimmering Black Lake and the rolling hills of the Forbidden Forest.
Fear was replaced by the breathtaking scenery in an instant.
She opened her eyes completely. Her clever brown eyes reflected the entire panorama of Hogwarts, filled with shock and wonder.
"It... it's so beautiful..." she couldn't help but sigh.
As Hermione was immersed in the beauty, a cold voice rang out in Jerry's mind once more.
[Ding! Daily Quest Triggered: The Thirst for Knowledge of Top Student 2.]
[Quest Content: Begin the training of the "Know-It-All" Hermione Granger. During the flight, make her understand that the acquisition of knowledge and a more "in-depth" experience requires a corresponding "price."]
[Quest Reward: Depends on completion level.]
A nearly imperceptible smirk curled the corner of Jerry's mouth.
Jerry steadily maneuvered the broom, circling in the air, while feeling the soft, elastic body behind him which had begun to relax from the excitement.
"Do you want to try it yourself?" Jerry's voice carried a smile, coming from behind her ear.
"I... can I?" Hermione hesitated, the fear that had just dissipated starting to bubble up again.
"Of course you can. I'll teach you," Jerry said confidently. "But we need to switch positions."
Before Hermione could react, Jerry adjusted his posture on the high-speed broom with a sense of balance and coordination that exceeded normal human limits.
Jerry moved his body back, spreading his legs, allowing Hermione's small frame to drop right between his thighs.
the entire process was impossibly fast. Hermione felt her body sway, and in the next second, she had moved from behind Jerry to in front of him.
Jerry held her steadily from behind.
The shift in position caused Hermione's buttocks to inevitably sit down firmly against him.
And then, Hermione felt it.
Through her school trousers and skirt, something hard, scalding, and shockingly large was prodding right into her butt crack.
The presence of the object was so overwhelming that she understood exactly what it was in an instant.
Hermione's face turned a brilliant red, like a sunset on fire, burning from her cheeks all the way to the tips of her ears.
Her body stiffened slightly. She tried to scoot forward, but she was fixed in place by Jerry's arms wrapping around her from behind.
That thing was wedged between the two cheeks of her butt.
Through the fabric, Hermione could even clearly feel its throbbing pulse, prodding powerfully against her most private place over and over again.
"Don't move around, or you'll fall off."
Jerry's voice sounded perfectly normal, as if he didn't notice the awkward contact at all. "Relax. Lean back against me. Trust me, and trust this broom."
Jerry's chest was pressed against Hermione's back. The vibration of his voice in his chest was clearly transmitted to her.
Hermione felt her body going weak. She didn't dare lean back, yet she had nowhere to run.
That thick, long thing was pressed tight against her, rubbing up and down as the broom flew.
"Alright, now, put your hands here."
Jerry ignored Hermione's embarrassment entirely. His warm palms covered her cold, small hands, guiding them to the optimal control positions on the broom handle in front of him.
His arms passed under her armpits, encircling her entire person in his embrace.
The posture was excessively intimate. Hermione could smell the pleasant, faint scent of fresh grass on him, and she could feel his steady, powerful heartbeat.
"Leaning forward is acceleration."
Jerry held her hands and controlled the broom, making it perform a slight dive.
"Ah!" Hermione gave another short cry. Her body instinctively leaned back, and her buttocks pressed even more tightly against the stiff meat-spear.
With that pressure, the object seemed to perk up even more, wedging deeper into her butt crack through the fabric.
A strange, numbing sensation radiated from the contact point, making her legs go soft.
"See? It's simple," Jerry whispered into her ear.
"If you want to turn, use your body's center of gravity to guide it. To the left, or to the right."
Jerry controlled Hermione's hands and body, leading the broom in a graceful arc through the sky. With every turn and every tilt, Hermione's buttocks would inevitably grind against the massive, hard object.
The rigid shaft slid back and forth within her butt crack; every friction brought a wave of dizzying heat.
Hermione didn't dare speak. She could only let Jerry hold her from behind as they flew. She tried desperately to focus on controlling the broom, but the overwhelming presence of the hard object beneath her acted like a branding iron, constantly reminding her of how shameful her position was.
As the flight continued, the constant friction caused her body to react.
A stream of wet warmth gushed from below, quickly soaking her panties and even making her outer trousers feel damp.
She could feel the scalding meat-spear sliding against her butt crack through two layers of soaked fabric.
Every rub was accompanied by a subtle, sticky, squelching sound. It was faint, but in the howling wind of the high altitude, it seemed amplified a thousand times, ringing clearly in her ears.
Hermione's face was red enough to bleed. She could only bury her head low, hoping the wind would dry the heat on her face.
Just as Hermione was about to faint from shame, Jerry seemed to decide that normal flight was too boring.
The arms encircling Hermione tightened, and his body suddenly leaned back.
"Hold on tight!"
The Nimbus 2000 gave a hum like a fighter jet, carrying them both on a vertical climb into the sky before tracing a thrilling arc and performing a perfect 360-degree roll.
The world spun.
The intense stimulation of this maneuver far exceeded the limits of what Hermione could endure.
The moment the broom inverted and they were hanging upside down in mid-air, she felt her tightly wound nerves snap completely.
A surge of warmth erupted from her lower abdomen, out of her control.
Hot urine instantly burst through her thin panties and thoroughly soaked her outer trousers.
In the high-speed airflow of the altitude, the moment the liquid left her body, it was sliced, torn, and evaporated into a fine mist of warm vapor. Like the breath of a sprite, it drifted slowly down toward the Quidditch pitch below.
And that thick meat-spear, which had been pressing firmly and aggressively into her butt crack, was also completely drenched by her incontinent piss in that instant.
The scorching temperature became even more palpable through the two layers of soaked fabric.
...
"That's weird..."
On the ground, Ron—who was sweating with anxiety—suddenly felt a dampness on his face. He looked up, wiped it with his hand, and stared into the sky in confusion. "Is it raining?"
The sky was clear without a single cloud.
Before he could figure it out, he saw the black shadow in the sky. Instead of returning to the ground, it turned around, carrying Hermione, and flew toward the Quidditch locker rooms not far away.
"Where... where are they going?"
Ron's voice was full of confusion and a hint of inexplicable jealousy.
The platform of the Quidditch locker rooms was empty; because of the flying lesson, it sat neglected and unused.
Jerry landed the broom steadily on the platform. His massive meat-spear, drenched by Hermione's piss during the flight, remained pressed tightly against her butt crack through the soaked fabric. The burning heat radiated through the wet clothes, giving off a faint, musky scent of urine.
Hermione felt limp all over. Her head hung low, and she didn't dare look at Jerry's face. She could feel her trousers and panties clinging wetly to her skin, and the shame nearly swallowed her whole.
What made her even more mortified was that she hadn't just pissed herself—she had pissed all over Jerry.
However, Jerry showed no sign of displeasure. Instead, he simply chuckled and tossed the broom aside.
"No one will come here," his voice carried a meaningful edge. "It's the perfect place to dry your clothes."
Hermione's legs were so weak she could barely stand. She knew exactly what a humiliating state her body was in.
She could even hear the faint, wet shloop sound of her soaked clothes rubbing against Jerry's trousers.
While Jerry had his back turned for a moment, Hermione summoned a courage she couldn't explain.
She hurriedly pulled off her damp school trousers, revealing the white tights she was wearing tightly over her legs.
The white silk was soaked with urine across a large area, making it look transparent and sticky, while also clearly outlining the shape of her inner thighs and her private triangle.
The movement was so fast and silent, it was practically a blur.
She felt anxious, yet also possessed a rebellious hope, wondering how Jerry would react.
Jerry, as expected, stopped what he was doing.
His gaze landed on Hermione's soaked white tights. His eyes were deep—not with the mockery she expected, but with a growing sense of playfulness.
Just as Hermione's cheeks began to burn and she prepared to explain, her eyes involuntarily drifted to Jerry's lower body.
Through his equally soaked trousers, the thick member was exceptionally prominent.
In that instant, a mixture of curiosity, excitement, and an inexplicable impulse surged in her heart.
Hermione's heart beat fast. Without even letting her brain think, she reached out her hand. With a hint of hesitation but an irrepressible craving, she reached directly for the massive meat-spear wrapped in Jerry's wet pants.
Her fingers touched the hard, scalding contour beneath the fabric.
The sensation was so hot and thick that her palm could barely contain it.
Hermione's cheeks grew even redder. She explored with her fingers clumsily through the pants, feeling the incredible size and shape of the member. From the base to the tip, every curve made her feel a novel kind of pressure.
It was a feeling unlike anything she had ever known.
Hermione just kept stroking it, making no further move.
Jerry looked at Hermione's flushed face and her right hand gripping his member, a smile flashing in his eyes.
He didn't stop her or speak. He simply leaned down, bringing his lips close to Hermione's ear.
"Do you want to... feel it directly?"
His voice carried a seductive low tone, whispered like a magic spell.
Hermione's body gave a slight tremor. Her throat felt dry, but she couldn't speak a word.
She could feel Jerry's gaze roaming over her face like fire. The pressure made it hard to breathe.
Looking at Hermione's misty, wide eyes, Jerry knew she had been conquered by his words.
He reached out and pulled Hermione's hand away from his crotch, then leaned down and brought his face close to her.
Jerry didn't speak again, letting action replace words.
He released Hermione's hand and moved his own to the button of his trousers.
Click.
The crisp sound of the metal button unfastening was exceptionally clear on the silent platform.
He pulled down the zipper, and the thick meat-root—which had been soaked in piss and tightly bound in his pants—sprang out completely, accompanied by a wave of hot, damp air.
Its size was so shocking that even in a semi-erect state, it far exceeded Hermione's understanding.
Hermione's breathing stopped.
Her eyes were wide, completely intimidated by the majestic giant before her, which was filled with primal vitality.
Jerry grabbed her still-trembling hand and guided it to wrap around his scalding meat-spear once more.
This time, there was no fabric barrier.
Hermione's fingers felt the incredible heat completely and directly.
Her small hand couldn't even wrap fully around the massive object.
The moment skin met skin, the burning temperature felt as if it would scald her palm.
She could clearly feel the powerful pulse within the meat-spear and its slick, sticky texture.
"Grip it."
Jerry's voice was low and magnetic.
Hermione felt as if all her strength had been drained. She could only grip the meat-spear instinctively.
She mimicked the scenes she had seen in illustrations in certain forbidden books, clumsily beginning to stroke it up and down.
Her movements were raw, but the sensation of being enveloped by her soft palm still made Jerry let out a satisfied sigh.
Slick... slick...
The sound of wetness rang out between them.
Hermione looked at her own fair, small hand, currently stroking such a massive thing. Seeing the crystal liquid covering her palm, her cheeks were red enough to burn, yet a nameless, strange excitement surged in her heart.
Hermione's throat moved as she swallowed.
That strange excitement was like a vine, climbing up from the depths of her heart to entangle her reason. Hermione looked at the massive object in her hand, made slippery by body fluids, and a thought so bold it scared her surfaced in her mind.
Hermione slowly released her hand. Then, under Jerry's intrigued gaze, she slowly sank to her knees.
She lifted her head, looking up at the massive meat-spear pointing directly at her.
Up close, the visual impact was even more intense. She could even smell the aggressive scent of a male body.
Hermione extended her pink tongue tip and, as if tasting a rare delicacy, tentatively and gently gave it a lick.
The liquid there tasted slightly salty.
The movement acted like a switch, completely opening something that had been locked inside Hermione for a long time. She hesitated no longer, opening her small mouth to actively take the massive head inside.
Hermione's mouth was too small; the head alone filled her entire oral cavity to the brim.
It pressed against her soft palate, making it hard to breathe.
But Hermione didn't back down; instead, she began to suck even more forcefully.
Her tongue circled clumsily around the edges, trying to lick every corner.
Gulp... slurp...
The moist, sticky sounds echoed clearly on the platform.
Her saliva mixed with the fluids secreted by the meat-spear, drawing strings of crystal silk from the corners of her mouth.
Jerry leaned back comfortably against the wall. He looked down at the usually serious "Know-It-All," who was currently kneeling before him like an obedient kitten, using her eloquent mouth to diligently serve his desire.
Hermione didn't seem to think taking just the head was enough. She worked hard to open her mouth wider, trying to swallow the massive object even deeper.
The intrusion forced open her throat, bringing a slight gagging sensation.
But what followed was an unprecedented, strange satisfaction of being filled.
Soon, Hermione's movements became more skilled and bolder.
The soft flesh of her mouth and the wrap of her hand provided dual stimulation.
Jerry's breathing began to quicken. His hand on Hermione's head instinctively gripped her bushy brown curls.
"Mmh..."
A low growl he couldn't suppress escaped his throat.
Hermione felt the change in his body and knew what was about to happen.
Instead of stopping, she accelerated the speed of her sucking.
Finally, Jerry's body gave a sudden thrust. A torrent of scalding, musky fluid erupted without warning, completely filling her mouth and throat.
"Mmph...!"
Hermione was knocked back slightly by the force, but she quickly steadied herself.
There was too much thick white liquid—so much that her mouth couldn't hold it all. it overflowed from the corners of her mouth, flowing down her chin, her neck, and even splashing onto her school shirt and skirt.
In an instant, Hermione's face and chest were covered in the thick, white, murky fluid.
However, there was no sign of disgust on her face.
In those brown eyes, there was currently a light that bordered on obsession.
Gulp, gulp!
Swallowing with effort, Hermione first extended her tongue, carefully licking all the liquid from her lips and chin. Then she used her fingers, treating it like the most precious treasure, to scrape the white slime from her face, neck, and even her clothes, bit by bit.
Hermione's movements were gentle and focused, as if terrified of wasting even a single drop.
One by one, she sucked her fluid-stained fingertips into her mouth, cleaning them thoroughly.
The warmth of her mouth enveloped her cold fingertips. Hermione closed her eyes, savoring the unique, addictive taste. Her face bore an expression of satisfaction and intoxication, like a greedy kitten that had stolen some cream.
She opened her eyes, her gaze first falling back to the member by her lips, which had already started to go soft... Hermione suddenly opened her mouth, taking the somewhat limp head back inside. She sucked forcefully until she couldn't get anything else out, then looked up at Jerry.
Smack... smack-smack...
The friction of her tongue against the meat-pillar made a clear, wet sound.
"You bad boy, Jerry... next time, I want more!"