Early the next morning, the corridors of Hogwarts were bustling with people.
Dressed neatly, holding his textbook, Jerry walked toward the classroom, pretending nothing had happened.
Familiar classmates he encountered in the hallway greeted him normally; no one cast strange glances, which made Jerry quietly heave a sigh of relief.
It seemed those elves were trustworthy and hadn't leaked what happened yesterday.
Of course, it was more likely that Professor McGonagall had cleaned up all the loose ends for him.
Thinking of that strict, beautiful professor, Jerry felt a chill down his spine.
Last night, she really did come to "check" his body.
The process of that "check" was even more tormenting than being tossed around by Aya at the World Tree core.
"Jerry?"
A familiar voice came from behind, interrupting his recollections.
Jerry looked back. It was Draco Malfoy.
Today's Malfoy looked like a completely different person from a few days ago.
He was no longer sickly and pale, but radiant and rosy-cheeked, his skin even showing a full luster, like a carefully watered plant.
Not just appearance; Jerry could even feel that the originally somewhat mixed and impetuous magical fluctuations around Malfoy had become much more condensed and pure, as if undergoing some brilliant refinement and nourishment.
Malfoy caught up in a few steps, walking side by side with Jerry.
Seeing Jerry's listless appearance, he said in his unique, slightly showy tone: "Why do you look so wilted? Overindulged yourself?"
Malfoy leaned closer, lowering his voice: "Young man, practice moderation!"
Jerry glanced at him sideways, too lazy to respond.
His waist was still sore; he really wasn't in the mood to bicker with this peacock in heat.
"By the way!"
Malfoy didn't care about the lack of response and continued on his own, "Where were you during Transfiguration class yesterday afternoon? I heard from Pansy that you didn't show up all day. Professor McGonagall took attendance and found someone dared to skip her class. Her face, tsk tsk, changed color from anger. Be careful not to get caught by her."
"Caught?"
Jerry rolled his eyes grumpily, cursing inwardly.
More than caught, he was practically swallowed whole.
He yawned widely, physiological tears squeezing out from the corners of his eyes, and asked lazily: "What was taught in Transfiguration yesterday? Did you take notes? Lend me to copy later."
"Uh..." Hearing this, Malfoy scratched his platinum short hair, his expression hesitant. "Notes... I didn't bring a notebook yesterday. But I remember the general key points in my head. I'll teach you later."
Hearing this, Jerry paused, looked at him like he was an idiot, and said speechlessly: "Then you might as well have skipped class with me!"
With that, he ignored Malfoy, walked straight into the classroom, and found a seat in the back.
Just as he took his book out of his bag, a figure leaned over.
Hermione Granger was standing by his desk, looking at him with concern, her brown eyes full of care.
"Jerry?"
Hermione asked softly, "Why do you look so terrible? Like you haven't slept for days. Are you sick?"
Jerry looked up at Hermione, seeing the genuine concern in her eyes.
He waved his hand weakly, changing the subject.
"I'm fine, maybe just haven't rested well recently."
Jerry pulled the corner of his mouth into a weak smile, then said: "Forget about this. Congratulations, Hermione. I heard you received a Hogwarts Special Contribution Award, and the three of you added twenty points each to Gryffindor, a total of sixty extra points. If Gryffindor wins the House Cup this year, you guys take the greatest credit."
At the mention of this, a complex expression appeared on Hermione's face—pride, but also a hint of unease.
Jerry certainly knew what she was thinking.
That day, the person who truly confronted and repelled Voldemort was him.
But afterward, to cover up the magic he used, which far exceeded a first-year student, and to avoid unnecessary panic, the credit for the whole incident was redistributed.
Officially, Professor McGonagall arrived in time and repelled the mysterious powerful dark wizard.
And for some unknown reason, Snape voluntarily gave up claiming any credit.
Thus, the remaining credit for "bravely fighting the troll at the scene" was logically divided equally among Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
Rita Skeeter, that keen-nosed fellow, certainly wouldn't let go of such excellent material.
On the front page of the Daily Prophet, she praised the extraordinary courage of the three "Little Heroes of Gryffindor" with the most flowery language, accompanied by a photo of the three looking a bit disheveled but incredibly proud.
For a time, the fame of the Gryffindor Golden Trio spread throughout Hogwarts and even the entire British wizarding world.
But compared to Harry, who had fainted from pain at the time, and Ron, who only knew how to show off, Hermione remembered much more.
She clearly knew that the so-called "Gryffindor Golden Trio" had no credit to speak of.
If Professor McGonagall hadn't arrived in time, the three of them would have died at the hands of those black-robed wizards long ago.
And even after fainting, in the cracks of consciousness, Hermione vaguely heard Jerry's voice.
Hermione also blurredly saw a figure fighting something in the dim light. That figure looked very much like Jerry.
Hermione even remembered that before completely losing consciousness, she seemed to see that figure stumble, and dark liquid seemed to flow from his body...
These memories were scattered and couldn't form a complete, clear picture.
But when she saw Jerry's pale face and the dark circles under his eyes today, those fragmented memories instantly pieced together in her mind.
Thinking of this, Hermione felt the Hogwarts badge hanging on her chest become incredibly heavy.
She looked at Jerry, lips moving, and finally mustered the courage to speak again in a voice almost only the two of them could hear:
"That day... thank you."
Jerry was dazing off. Hearing this sentence out of the blue, he was stunned for a moment before realizing what she was talking about.
Seeing him silent, Hermione added, her eyes full of guilt and sincerity: "What the newspaper said isn't true... I know. Are your injuries... not healed yet?"
As she spoke, she looked at Jerry carefully, as if he were some fragile item.
In her view, Jerry's listless appearance was ironclad proof of unhealed serious injuries.
Jerry didn't react for a moment.
Looking at the guilt almost overflowing from Hermione's eyes, he couldn't help muttering in his heart.
That day, wasn't Hermione hit by the Petrification Curse and fainted long ago?
But her words sounded like she knew something.
Did she not really lose consciousness?
Or did she see or hear key fragments while half-awake?
Just as Jerry was pondering how to respond, a rude and sharp voice cut in like a knife.
"Hermione, why are you talking so much to this remnant of Death Eaters?"
Ron Weasley was strutting over, his face wearing an arrogance unique to new heroes and disgusting to behold.
Every step seemed to declare his extraordinary status.
Ron stopped beside Hermione, glaring at Jerry with cold eyes scrutinizing an enemy.
"Maybe he was among those damn Death Eaters that night!"
Ron said loudly, disregarding the gazes from surrounding classmates.
Then, Ron aimed fully at Jerry, chin held high, declaring in a victor's posture: "Rosier, just wait to be expelled! Now our Gryffindor is nearly a hundred and fifty points ahead of your Slytherin! It's not long until the term ends at Christmas!"
Jerry rolled his eyes, too lazy to pay attention to Ron. He just wanted to find a corner to catch up on sleep and had no interest in such childish arguments.
However, Ron's high-pitched voice successfully attracted Draco Malfoy's attention.
A sneer with mockery appeared on Malfoy's radiant face.
"Isn't this the pauper of the Weasley family?"
He scanned Ron with a look as if sizing up roadside trash, voice deliberately raised to ensure people around could hear: "Heard your twin brothers stole family money to buy a Snowfield Phantom Fox, and finally got dragged by the ear by your mother to the Ministry for a refund. Truly hilarious. Just a Snowfield Phantom Fox, is it worth it? Really embarrassing to death."
Malfoy sighed hypocritically, then said in a charitable tone: "If it really doesn't work, tell them to come over and call me Young Master Malfoy. I'll buy one for them! Save emptying the Weasley family's pitiful savings!"
Malfoy's words were like slaps, smacking loudly on Ron's face.
Ron's face turned red instantly like his hair, fists clenched tight, blue eyes almost spewing fire.
Gryffindor students cast angry glances, while Slytherins snickered.
At the classroom door, several entering students were attracted by this sudden quarrel and stopped moving.
"You!" Ron almost jumped up, roaring, "Malfoy, shut up! Don't go too far!"
Facing Ron's rage, Malfoy just smiled contemptuously, too lazy to insult with words anymore, but directly raised a middle finger. He obviously used this insulting gesture from the Muggle world quite skillfully.
Seeing this, Hermione knew continuing would only escalate the conflict.
She pursed her lips apologetically at Jerry, apologizing for Ron's behavior, then grabbed the fuming Ron without explanation and dragged him forcefully away from the Slytherin table.
The brief commotion in the classroom subsided.
With the class bell ringing, a figure walked into the History of Magic classroom.
Jerry looked up, eyes brightening slightly.
Walking in was the witch with fiery red long hair wearing red robes whom he met in the maze during the entrance exam.
Today she still wore a tailored deep red wizarding robe embroidered with complex flame patterns in gold thread.
With every step she took, the hem of the robe swayed like flowing fire.
Standing on the podium, she was bright and dazzling, like a blooming fiery red flower, brightening up this perennially gloomy and old classroom.
She was the professor of this course, Bathsheda Babbling.
Professor Babbling placed the textbook in her hand onto the podium with a crisp sound, her sharp gaze sweeping across the room.
When her gaze passed over Jerry, there seemed to be a moment of pause, but it moved away quickly, fast enough to be mistaken for an illusion.
"I am your History of Magic professor, Bathsheda Babbling."
Babbling's voice was clear and penetrating, completely different from the legendary ghost Professor Binns who could hypnotize all students: "Put away your thoughts that History of Magic is just reciting boring years and names. With me, history is alive, an epic full of fire, betrayal, and glory. Now, open your books to page one, Goblin Rebellions."
Regarding the history of Goblin Rebellions, Jerry knew it like the back of his hand, even better than the author who wrote this textbook.
Therefore, Professor Babbling's passionate narration sounded no different from a lullaby to him.
Jerry propped his chin with one hand, eyelids getting heavier, head starting to nod like a chicken pecking rice.
This class was indeed boring to the extreme for him, but looking around, most of the little wizards seemed full of energy.
He had to admit, Professor Babbling had indeed done her homework in advance. She didn't just read from the book but connected those cold historical events with vivid stories, telling of the cunning of goblin craftsmen, the greed of wizard nobles, and those treaties forged in blood and fire.
Being able to tell boring history so vividly and interestingly was indeed quite high-level.
However, just as Jerry's consciousness was about to sink completely into darkness, a clear voice exploded in his ear like thunder.
"This Slytherin student."
The entire classroom fell silent instantly.
Jerry shuddered, looked up sharply, and found the whole class's eyes focused on him.
On the podium, Professor Babbling was crossing her arms, looking at him with a faint smile.
"It seems you have your own unique insights into the history of Goblin Rebellions, so much so that my narration bores you."
No anger could be heard in Babbling's voice, but a dangerous light flickered in those fiery red eyes.
"Then, please tell everyone!"
Babbling spoke slowly, raising a question not even recorded in detail in the book, "In the largest rebellion of 1612, what method did the goblin leader Urg use to breach the 'Wall of Sighs' set up by the then Minister for Magic, Artemisia Lufkin?"
As soon as this question came out, whispers in the classroom stopped. Everyone looked at Jerry, most with schadenfreude in their eyes.
This was obviously content not in the textbook; Babbling clearly wanted him to make a fool of himself.
However, Jerry just stood up slowly from his seat. The sleepy look was swept away, replaced by a calm and clear demeanor.
He showed no panic at all, as if asked a simple question like "what is one plus one."
"Professor Babbling!"
Jerry spoke, voice not loud but clearly spreading through the quiet classroom, "In official records, Urg utilized ancient rune smelting technology unique to goblins to create a magical tool called 'Cone of Silence.' Through continuous physical attacks lasting three days and nights, he forcibly pierced the weakest node of the Wall of Sighs."
Professor Babbling kept her arms crossed, saying nothing, just signaling him to continue with her eyes.
"But this is just the Ministry's version to maintain its own face."
Jerry changed the subject, the corner of his mouth hooking into a faint mockery. "In fact, Minister Lufkin's 'Wall of Sighs' was a conceptual defensive magic. Its strength had nothing to do with protection methods but was directly linked to the strength of the belief that 'the guardian must win.' Urg didn't use any 'Cone of Silence' at all. He just captured a lover of Minister Lufkin, used goblin secret arts to create an illusion that the Minister herself had been defeated and killed, and made that lover cry out outside the wall. This illusion directly shook Lufkin's casting belief, causing the magical structure of the 'Wall of Sighs' to collapse from the inside. Urg and his army walked in almost without bloodshed."
He paused, adding his own insight: "So, I believe the failure of that rebellion was not lost to goblin magic or force, but to the arrogance wizards couldn't overcome themselves, and emotional fragility. Relying too much on grand and conceptual magic while ignoring the most basic human weaknesses—this was the root cause of the disastrous defeat of Minister Lufkin and the entire Ministry at that time."
After these words, a pin drop could be heard in the classroom.
On the podium, Professor Babbling narrowed her fiery red eyes. Instead of dissipating, that dangerous light grew stronger.
She certainly knew this kid from the Rosier family.
Not to mention the deep impression his calmness inconsistent with his age left on her in the maze during the entrance exam.
Although later, for some reason, Babbling was urgently transferred to the front line legions for support and only returned yesterday, so she didn't know much about many recent events in the academy.
But just last night, Selina cursed "the little bastard of the Rosier family" through gritted teeth all night, yet no matter how she asked, Selina blushed and refused to say what that little bastard did to her.
This aroused, misplaced curiosity had long filled Babbling with a desire to explore Jerry.
Now it seemed this "little bastard" was indeed much more interesting than she imagined.
Professor Babbling looked at him, a playful smile flashing in her fiery eyes.
She opened her red lips slightly, voice not loud but enough for everyone in the classroom to hear clearly.
"Very wonderfully answered, Mr. Rosier. Exceeded the scope of the textbook and has unique insights."
She nodded, not stingy with her praise: "Ten points to Slytherin."
"Oh!"
A burst of suppressed cheers erupted instantly from the Slytherin table.
Malfoy looked back triumphantly, casting a provocative glance in Ron's direction.
On the Gryffindor side, Ron's face indeed became somewhat ugly.
A lead of one hundred and fifty points sounded like a lot, but if Slytherin added points so easily and simply, being caught up was only a matter of time.
Ron glared at Jerry indignantly, then looked at the red-haired female professor on the podium who obviously favored Jerry, feeling stifled.
But Ron could only watch helplessly, muttering things like "biased Slytherin professor."
After all, he knew nothing about boring courses like History of Magic that required using brains to memorize things.
Halfway through the class, the oak door of the classroom was suddenly pushed open gently. A strange wizard looked in, exchanged a glance with Professor Babbling on the podium, and whispered a few words.
Babbling frowned slightly but nodded.
"Self-study for fifteen minutes, read pages five to seven." She gave a brief order and quickly left the classroom with the wizard.
As soon as the teacher left, the tense string in the classroom relaxed immediately.
Students began to whisper, buzzing like bees.
This suited Jerry perfectly.
He stood the heavy History of Magic book on the desk to block his face, then laid his head on the desk, falling asleep almost instantly, taking this opportunity to catch up on sleep.
However, he felt he had just fallen asleep not long ago when he was poked awake by Malfoy's elbow next to him.
"Hey, wake up, the professor is back."
Jerry looked up groggily, meeting Professor Babbling's gaze from the podium.
Babbling had returned to the classroom but didn't continue the lecture. Instead, arms crossed, her sight locked precisely on Jerry.
"Mr. Rosier!" Babbling's voice was exceptionally clear in the quiet classroom. "Come out for a moment. The rest of you, class ends here for today. A senior prefect will come to maintain order shortly."
Under the varied gazes of the whole class, Jerry stood up slowly and followed Professor Babbling out of the classroom.
The two walked one after another in the empty corridor. Only their footsteps echoed on the ancient stone path, sounding exceptionally clear.
Professor Babbling walked in front, her fiery red robe swaying gently with her steps. She said nothing, and Jerry followed silently behind, not knowing what this beautiful female professor was up to.
Professor Babbling's steps stopped in front of an unmarked oak door.
She didn't knock, just tapped the door lightly with her wand. The door slid open silently inward.
Air mixed with old parchment, fireplace burning wood, and strong potion scents hit his face.
Jerry followed her in, and the office door closed automatically behind him.
The light in the room was dim. Flames danced in the fireplace, stretching shadowy figures on the walls long.
This was obviously not Professor Babbling's own office, but a temporary meeting room.
When Jerry's eyes adapted to the indoor light, he saw everyone present.
In an instant, he understood he was brought to a highest-level internal meeting at Hogwarts.
Professor McGonagall sat upright in an armchair, expression serious as always. Behind square silver-rimmed glasses, those sharp eyes stared at him tightly, but the look signaled him to stay calm.
By the fireplace, Albus Dumbledore sat peacefully. His blue eyes behind iconic half-moon spectacles flickered with elusive light.
Severus Snape shrank in the darkest corner of the room like a giant bat, arms crossed, looking at Jerry with unusually peaceful eyes.
What surprised Jerry more was that Selina was also here.
Seeing Jerry walk in, a weird smile appeared on the corner of her mouth.
And what moved Jerry's heart most was seeing the "Professor Green" disguised as the Herbology professor—Harry Potter's mother, Lily Potter, who should have died long ago.
She sat in an inconspicuous corner, trying to lower her presence, but when Jerry's gaze swept over, her body still had an almost imperceptible stiffness.
Besides them, there were a few others he didn't know, but judging from the powerful magical fluctuations and steady demeanor emitting from them, they were undoubtedly senior professors of Hogwarts.
Dumbledore's azure eyes looked at Jerry through half-moon spectacles with a kindly smile.
"Mr. Rosier, sorry to interrupt your class. Calling you over this time is because there is something we want to ask for your help."
Jerry was stunned.
Help?
In front of this group of highest-level wizards at Hogwarts, asking a first-year freshman for help?
Just as he was about to ask, Professor McGonagall interrupted him.
"Albus!"
Professor McGonagall frowned, expression serious enough to wring water out. "I think this matter needs further consideration. Jerry is just an eleven-year-old boy after all, far from mature enough to handle these affairs."
"Correct."
Snape's low and gloomy voice came from the corner. His black eyes swept over Jerry with habitual coldness, but clearly to exonerate Jerry.
However, just when Jerry thought there might be room for maneuver, Selina suddenly stood up from her chair. On her face, somewhat haggard from staying up late, an unquestionable stubbornness ignited at this moment.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, with all due respect, I think the concerns of Minerva and Professor Severus are somewhat superfluous."
Selina's gaze locked tightly on Jerry, a nearly bone-deep hatred dancing within, yet her tone appeared unusually calm: "The bloodline of the Rosier family has never been some flower in a greenhouse. He is far more 'mature' and 'capable' than boys his age. Since this matter concerns the safety of the front line legions, and possibly even the future of the entire wizarding world, as a member of Hogwarts and heir to the Rosier family, he has no reason to stay out of it, nor should he be excluded."
Selina paused, a trace of imperceptible pleasure flashing in her eyes: "Perhaps, letting him contact these in advance is also a required course for him as a future 'pillar'."
Hearing this, Jerry felt a slight discomfort in his heart.
Selina's words were filled with hatred difficult to conceal between the lines. Superficially for the safety of Hogwarts and the wizarding world, she actually wanted to push him into danger.
Although he was confused hearing this, not understanding what big event happened, the bone-chilling malice in the woman's words made him clearly judge that this bitch absolutely had no good intentions.
Just as everyone held their own opinions and the meeting room began to get noisy, Dumbledore raised his hand gently. A calm movement was enough to silence all discussion.
He ignored Selina's aggressiveness, nor did he respond to the worries of McGonagall and Snape. He just picked up a folded piece of parchment from the table beside him and placed it lightly in front of Jerry.
Jerry reached out, took the parchment, and unfolded it.
Rather than a newspaper, it was a battle-worn military report from the front lines.
The pages were coarse, and the ink had bled through the back in several places.
There were no flashy clickbait headlines or exaggerated illustrations.
Only dense blocks of text described the latest situation of the wizarding legions in an clinical, detached tone.
He read with blistering speed, his eyes darting between the lines.
In just a few breaths, he absorbed the essence of the report and understood the chain of events.
It turned out that in the direction the wizarding army was expanding, they had discovered an unprecedentedly solid barrier—a World Crystal Wall.
This crystal wall stood immovable within the void, its indestructibility surpassing everyone's imagination.
Discovering it meant that on the other side of that wall, a brand-new cluster of worlds likely existed.
This should have been exhilarating news.
A new world meant vast resources to replenish the wizarding world's dwindling magic veins.
It meant rare magical beasts, exotic plants, and perhaps even new magical knowledge and civilizations.
To a wizarding world hungry for expansion and power, it was a massive, untapped treasure trove.
However, the World Crystal Wall was not easily accessible.
It was encased within a vast, boundless, and extremely dangerous zone of space-time turbulence.
The turbulence described was no ordinary magical fluctuation.
It was the ultimate death zone—capable of tearing space, devouring time, and reducing any matter to nothingness.
That pure, lawless chaos and destruction meant that even an entire frontline wizarding legion dared not act rashly.
The end of the report used concise wording to mention several unsuccessful exploration attempts.
Each ended with the total annihilation of elite squads, leaving behind zero valuable experience.
"The report only mentions the legion's preliminary findings," Dumbledore's calm voice cut through the crackling of the fireplace.
He looked at Jerry and continued, "I have been to that place personally. That space-time turbulence is not a simple magical phenomenon."
"It is more like an ancient, rigorous, restrictive curse that cannot be broken by brute force."
"Or rather, a sophisticated detection program."
His deep blue eyes mirrored the scenes from his memory.
"There is only one trigger condition for this program: 'Age'."
"After multiple tests using magical constructs, we reached a definitive conclusion."
"Any wizard over the age of twelve will be instantly locked onto by the destructive magical storms within the turbulence as soon as they approach."
Dumbledore paused here, and everyone in the meeting room held their breath.
"But!" He changed his tone. "If a young wizard under the age of twelve approaches, the curse of 'Age' is not triggered."
"On a magical level, they are essentially immune to the vast majority of dangers within the space-time turbulence."
At those words, Professor McGonagall's expression grew graver, while a sneer curled Snape's lip, as if mocking the absurdity of the plan.
Dumbledore, seemingly sensing their thoughts, sighed and continued, "But immunity to magic damage does not mean absolute safety."
"The turbulence still possesses pure physical properties—twisted spatial rifts, erratic streams of small meteors, and gravitational fields powerful enough to crush steel into thin sheets."
"These cannot be ignored or immunized against."
Dumbledore concluded in a voice heavy with resignation, "Even so, what wizard under twelve—with immature mind and power—could survive that physical hell alone?"
The room fell into a deathly silence.
Everyone realized this was an impossible deadlock.
They needed a boy under twelve who possessed a mind, power, and experience that could rival an adult elite wizard.
Logically, such a boy should not exist.
Yet every person in the room, including Dumbledore himself, turned their gaze toward the eleven-year-old boy in the center of the room.
Feeling the gazes mixed with worry, scrutiny, and calculation, a faint, cold smile played on Jerry's lips.
He had indeed been a bit too high-profile lately.
Specifically, the incident where he crippled Voldemort—though McGonagall tried to cover it up, fire cannot be wrapped in paper.
An eleven-year-old wizard facing the Dark Lord alone and forcing him to flee in disgrace was something that could never be fully hidden.
Because of this, Jerry had been marked by the old fox, Dumbledore.
This scene looked like a request for help, but in reality, it was a "test of loyalty" offered by the sanctimonious Headmaster.
A chance for Jerry to choose a side and demonstrate his value.
Of course, Jerry could choose not to go.
He knew well that Professor McGonagall, Uncle Severus, and even Lily Potter—disguised as Professor Green—would speak for him.
Especially Lily; he had recently saved her precious son, Harry.
That debt alone was enough to make her stand up and object at a critical moment.
And don't forget, Jerry Rosier was now the confirmed matrilocal son-in-law of the Forest Elves, a key piece in a racial alliance.
Even if Dumbledore interfered and got him expelled from Hogwarts, he could easily continue his studies at Durmstrang or any other top academy.
Based solely on being the "future fiancé of the Elf Princess," the entire Ministry would treat him as a guest of honor.
With these thoughts, Jerry's heart settled completely.
He looked up, meeting Dumbledore's gaze with clear eyes devoid of any fear.
"Headmaster Dumbledore!"
He spoke, his voice crisp and steady, breaking the silence. "This sounds extremely dangerous, but the rewards are equally massive."
"I want to know, if I successfully cross that turbulence and bring back valuable intelligence, what can Hogwarts—or rather, you personally—provide for me and the Rosier family?"
"Jerry!" McGonagall spoke up immediately, worried that the boy was placing himself in the middle of such a dangerous trade.
However, Dumbledore simply raised a hand, stopping her with a calm gesture.
His blue eyes, which seemed to pierce through everything, looked at Jerry with interest, as if admiring an unpolished gem beginning to show its brilliance.
"Mr. Rosier, your mission isn't just to collect intelligence!" Dumbledore corrected him genially.
"It is to find a stable coordinate point beyond the crystal wall and successfully establish a two-way portal."
"If you succeed, the Ministry will record your military service. This merit will allow you, when you enter the frontline legions in the future, to obtain..."
"I don't need that."
Jerry shook his head, bluntly interrupting Dumbledore.
He met the old Headmaster's gaze with eyes that were clear and resolute.
"Military merit is too far off for me, and I have no interest in joining any frontline legions right now."
"I only need one thing," Jerry said.
"Something the Rosier family once owned, but which was forcibly revoked by the Ministry due to historical reasons—"
Everyone in the room held their breath, listening to this eleven-year-old's shocking demand.
"A manufacturing license for Crystal Golems."
Jerry's voice wasn't loud, but every word was like a stone dropped into a still pond, creating ripples.
"Once I complete this task, cross the wall, and establish a stable portal, the Ministry must return that license to the Rosier family."
"And they must allow the Rosier Crystal Golem Workshop to reopen."
He paused, glancing at Selina, whose face had turned a sickly shade of green, and added a final condition that was both measured and impossible to refuse: "Of course, to put the Ministry at ease, the reopened workshop can accept full Ministry supervision..."
Dumbledore did not agree immediately. The Crystal Golem license involved far too much. He needed to consult with Ministry high-ups before a decision could be made; he couldn't decide alone.
He gave Jerry a deep, long look, then led the furious Selina and the other professors toward the Floo network to head to the Ministry for a meeting.
Before leaving, Professor McGonagall gave Jerry a fierce glare, her lips moving silently to form the words: "I'll settle the score with you tonight."
Snape, on the other hand, appeared much more relaxed. He walked past Jerry and, in his usual flat tone, added a rare hint of a joke: "If that workshop really reopens, you better cast me one from the first batch."
With a sweep of his black robes, he too vanished into the green flames.
In the blink of an eye, the crowded office was left with only Jerry and "Professor Green"—Lily Potter.
The fire in the hearth flickered, casting a shifting light over Lily's complex expression.
Jerry had no intention of entertaining her.
Having achieved his goal, he turned to walk out.
"Wait!"
A warm, slightly trembling hand caught his arm from behind.
Jerry turned to see Lily's pale face and eyes filled with internal struggle.
"Thank you... for saving Harry."
Her voice was soft, carrying a trace of sincere gratitude.
The corner of Jerry's mouth curled upward. He looked the mature, beautiful woman up and down, noting how her dark green robes accentuated her curves. He smirked. "What, just planning on using your lips to say thanks?"
That suggestive remark caused a faint blush to stain Lily's cheeks.
In her heart, she cursed him as a "bastard little pervert." Having seen what Jerry was capable of, she knew this boy was anything but simple.
But the debt of saving her only son was like a mountain on her heart, making it impossible to simply refuse.
Under Jerry's playful and aggressive gaze, Lily bit her lower lip as if making a final decision.
She let go of his arm and took a step forward. She bowed her head slightly and wrapped her arms gently around his neck.
This movement forced her to lean down, her perky breasts almost pressing against Jerry's face. A scent unique to mature women—a mix of herbal potions and a faint, sweet fragrance—washed over him.
"Then... how about this?"
Her voice carried an imperceptible tremor.
Without waiting for an answer, Lily closed her eyes and tilted her head up, pressing her warm, soft lips against the boy's.
At first, it was a simple, soft touch, meant only as repayment.
However, Jerry was clearly not satisfied with that.
He instantly seized the initiative. One hand slid around Lily's soft waist, pulling her tighter against him.
The other hand reached unceremoniously into the slit of her long robe, covering one of her rounded, perky butt cheeks and squeezing hard.
"Mmm..."
Lily's body stiffened, a suppressed moan escaping her throat.
This little brat's movements were far too practiced and bold.
The boy's palm was separated only by the thin fabric of her panties, and his scorching heat almost burned her skin.
Simultaneously, Jerry's tongue deftly pried open her teeth, sweeping through her warm, wet mouth with irresistible force.
As their lips and teeth tangled, the wet sounds of their kiss echoed through the quiet office, mixed with Lily's increasingly ragged breathing.
Lily's body began to go limp. Her arms tightened around his neck, leaning most of her weight into him.
The kiss lasted a long time—long enough for Lily to feel like the air was being drained from her lungs.
When Jerry finally pulled back slightly, a glistening thread of saliva stretched between their mouths before breaking.
Lily gasped for air, her eyes misty and glazed, her cheeks flushed a deep, burning red.
But Jerry didn't stop there.
His hand, which had been fondling her rear, slid along her curves into the crevice between her legs.
Through two thin layers of fabric, he accurately found the most private and dampest spot.
"No... not here... someone will come," Lily whispered.
A sliver of clarity returned to her mind. Shame made her instinctively try to press her legs together, her voice bordering on a sob.
Hearing this, Jerry stopped and withdrew his hand from beneath her robes.
He looked at Lily's ashamed, flushed face and smiled.
"Debts must be paid, Ms. Lily," Jerry said slowly.
"Just using your mouth to talk isn't enough."
"Next time, if I have to save Harry again, how do you plan to repay me?"
Lily's body gave a slight shudder.
She knew this little bastard wasn't joking.
His clear eyes were filled with an unquestionable sense of possession.
Lily shifted uncomfortably, her hands twisting together in distress. Her voice was as soft as a mosquito's hum. "What... what kind of gesture do you want?"
Jerry's gaze roamed wantonly over her mature, full curves, finally stopping on her lips, which were red and swollen from the kiss.
"How about a blowjob?"
Jerry said it casually, as if talking about something perfectly ordinary. "Voluntarily this time. Not like the last time where I had to force you."
The word hit Lily like a bolt of lightning, freezing her entire body.
She instinctively wanted to shake her head and refuse. It was too absurd.
But she didn't reject him immediately. Her heart was a battlefield, with shame and gratitude tearing at her repeatedly.
Under Jerry's calm and patient gaze, Lily struggled for a long time before finally losing to the heavy weight of her maternal love.
She slowly closed her eyes, as if giving up all resistance, and nodded slightly in tacit consent.
When she opened her eyes again, they were clouded with moisture. Her voice was trembling and resigned. "...Thank you, for saving Harry."
"If there is a next time, I will... thank you properly!"
Jerry smiled with satisfaction.
Following that resigned thank you, the atmosphere in the office became strange and frozen.
Slap!
The sharp, loud sound of a palm hitting flesh rang out abruptly.
Jerry raised his hand and gave Lily's exceptionally perky and voluptuous buttock a heavy smack.
The incredible elasticity caused her flesh to quiver violently. Lily let out a suppressed, muffled cry.
Jerry, however, acted as if he had done something perfectly normal. Without even looking back, he straightened his clothes and walked straight out of the office.
After all that, the History of Magic class he intended to use for a nap was a lost cause.
Walking down the empty corridor, Jerry patted his stomach, which had started to protest.
He hadn't eaten much that morning, and with lunch approaching, he decided to head to the Great Hall early.
The hall was currently empty; no one had taken a seat at the four house tables yet.
Jerry went straight to the Slytherin table and found a comfortable spot.
Before long, the clear bell signaling the end of class echoed through the castle.
A moment later, students flooded into the hall like a tide, and the quiet space was instantly filled with a roar of voices.
Jerry picked up his knife and fork, ready to dig into a sizzling steak.
But a sharp, familiar argument erupted from the Hufflepuff table not far away.
"You're lying! You don't know anything at all!"
Jerry looked toward the sound and saw Hermione Granger, her face flushed red, standing up from the Gryffindor table and glaring at a girl opposite her.
And the person she was arguing with was none other than Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff.
Jerry was well acquainted with Hannah Abbott—a gentle, even shy Hufflepuff girl.
Seeing her in such a fierce conflict with the usually dominant Hermione was certainly unexpected.
As Jerry watched with interest, Hannah suddenly paused, as if sensing his gaze.
She spotted Jerry watching the show.
Hannah's eyes lit up. Forgetting the argument with Hermione, she grabbed Hermione's wrist and marched toward the Slytherin table. "Come on, we'll let Jerry decide. He's the best at first-year Herbology. Let him see who's wrong."
Hermione stumbled as she was dragged along.
When she saw that Hannah was taking her to Jerry to act as a judge, she felt a flash of joy.
What was her relationship with Jerry? Surely he would side with her.
But then, seeing how naturally Hannah brought him up—as if they were very close—a knot of unexplained anxiety formed in her chest.
The two soon stood before Jerry's meal. Several nearby Slytherins stopped eating, looking curiously at these two outsiders who had come knocking.
Feeling the surrounding gazes, especially the "you must give us justice" looks from the two girls, Jerry knew this lunch wouldn't be peaceful.
He sighed, forked a piece of juicy steak, chewed a couple of times, and swallowed it as a farewell to his meal.
Then, Jerry wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked at the two girls, both with puffed-out cheeks.
"I can't settle this here," Jerry said calmly, standing up. "How about we go to the greenhouse?"
The three of them walked through the castle courtyard toward the glass greenhouse at the edge of the lawn.
Along the way, Hermione and Hannah didn't stop. They traded accusations about "incorrect procedures" in the cultivation process, neither willing to yield.
Pushing open the door to Greenhouse Three, a warm breeze mixed with the scent of damp soil, decaying leaves, and exotic floral fragrances hit them.
Sunlight filtered through the misted glass dome, casting dappled light over the magical plants.
The two led Jerry past a patch of reaching Devil's Snare to a cultivation bench assigned specifically to them.
When Jerry saw the plant in the pot, he was taken aback.
It was a climbing vine, its emerald stems clinging to a simple wooden frame, laden with clusters of pale green, cone-shaped flowers resembling pinecones.
The air was thick with a strange, unique scent—a blend of floral notes and malty fermentation.
It was Hops.
And not an ordinary variety from the Muggle world.
Jerry could clearly perceive the active magic flowing within this plant. From the centers of its flowers, drops of amber, honey-thick liquid were slowly seeping out, radiating an enticing aroma of alcohol.
Jerry reached out, dipped a finger into the nectar, and brought it to his nose.
Indeed, this nectar was essentially high-purity concentrated beer with a significant alcohol content.
He looked with some surprise at the two girls, who had temporarily called a truce upon arrival.
"Of all the interesting and safe magical plants at Hogwarts!" Jerry's voice carried a hint of confusion. "Why on earth did you two pick 'Spiked Mead Hops' for your class assignment?"
"Don't ask so many questions, Jerry!" Hermione said, worried that Jerry might play favorites.
"Just tell us: is my method of applying a 'Growth Acceleration Charm' correct, or is her stupid insistence on natural growth right?"
Hannah retorted, "What do you mean 'stupid'? Professor Green said we must be patient with magical plants! Abusing charms only ruins their natural magical structure!"
Seeing the two girls about to start bickering again, Jerry grinned, a wicked idea surfacing in his mind.
Jerry cleared his throat, putting on a businesslike expression. "Alright, alright. Since you want me to judge, you have to follow my rules."
"To make it fair, we need to add a little wager."
"Whoever's method is proven wrong must drink a large glass of a 'Special Hops Nectar' that I mix personally for her!"
At the word "Special," Hermione's cheeks turned crimson instantly.
She understood perfectly what Jerry's wicked mind was planning. After all, she had personally experienced the "taste" of his so-called "special drinks."
The thought of that strange liquid, a mix of hops nectar and certain special proteins, made her mouth go dry and a strange sensation ripple through her body.
Hannah, though sensing some ill intent from Jerry's smirk, felt her cheeks flush only slightly. She was confident in her gardening knowledge and didn't think she could lose.
In her eyes, it was just a small bet.
"Fine, Jerry!" Hannah agreed readily. "I won't lose to someone who only knows how to throw around random charms!"
Hermione looked at Hannah's confident expression, then thought of Jerry's malicious punishment, and a flash of schadenfreude crossed her mind.
Fine then, Hannah. You were the one who asked me to be your partner, and now you're here putting on an act.
When you lose in a moment, I'm definitely going to help Jerry brew that 'special nectar' just for you.
Jerry listened to their arguments, smiled, and stepped forward to examine the "Spiked Mead Hops" closely.
First, he squeezed the vine, feeling the state of the magic flow within, then leaned in to smell the fragrance of the flowers.
"Hermione!" he began.
"You used the 'Growth Acceleration Charm' three times in a row, didn't you? While it made the vine grow fast, it overextended its life force."
"Look here!" He pointed to a spot near the root. "The magic flow has started to stagnate and become erratic. The alcohol content of the nectar is too high, but the aroma is lacking. Over time, this plant will wither prematurely."
Then he turned to Hannah. "And you, relying entirely on natural growth... while the plant's vitality is well-preserved, your method is too slow for a mutant plant that needs magical guidance. Magic has over-accumulated at the flowers, causing the petal edges to harden unnaturally. In a few days, it might not produce nectar at all, but rather useless crystal lumps."
He straightened up, spread his hands, and delivered the final judgment: "So, you are both wrong."
"The correct method is to use a gentle 'Nourishment Charm' as an aid every three days after the plant has naturally absorbed its nutrients. Combining magic with natural growth is the only way to grow the best hops."
Both girls were stunned by the conclusion.
"Which means..." The wicked smirk returned to Jerry's face.
"According to the agreement, both of you must accept the punishment."
He shot a meaningful look toward Hermione.
Hermione's face erupted in a beautiful flush. She understood Jerry's meaning instantly, and her heart gave a disloyal thud.
But she showed no resistance. Instead, as if relieved, she stiffened her neck and said, "A bet's a bet!"
She swallowed hard.
Hannah, seeing that even the competitive Hermione had admitted defeat, found her own gentle nature made it impossible to keep being stubborn. She mumbled softly, "Alright... I accept too."
"Very good." Jerry nodded with satisfaction.
"Go wait outside for me. I need a little time to 'mix' your respective punishment drinks separately."
Standing outside the greenhouse, the warm humidity enveloped the two of them.
Hannah touched Hermione's arm apologetically and whispered, "I'm sorry, Hermione. I shouldn't have been so loud just now."
Hermione waved her off absentmindedly, her eyes sparkling with a strange excitement as she stared at the misted glass door.
Suddenly, Hermione leaned into Hannah's ear, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "Save the apology for later... Don't you want to know how he actually 'mixes' that special nectar?"
Hannah's curiosity was piqued instantly.
Without letting her speak, Hermione grabbed her and quietly led her around to a side window hidden by massive banana leaves, peeking inside with extreme caution.