A few floating candles flickered in the cavernous spell-casting room. On the floor, Isabella had just finished tracing a complex silver array with her wand. A faint light flowed through the lines like liquid life. The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and the metallic tang of mana dust.
"Look closely!"
Isabella's voice rang clear in the silent stone chamber. She didn't look at Jerry; her eyes were fixed on the array beneath her. "This is a standard 'Whisper of Silence' ward. Usually, it's used to isolate sound and prevent spying. Most wizards only know how to set up this outer main loop." She tapped the outermost ring of the array with the tip of her wand. "However, if you add 'Turbulence Runes' in reverse at these three key nodes..."
As she spoke, her wand flicked three times with lightning speed. Three small, twisted runes instantly fused into the array. The glow of the circle dimmed, nearly blending into the stone floor. "...it isolates sound while simultaneously creating a false mirror soundscape. Anyone trying to eavesdrop with a spell will only hear a pre-set loop of background noise. This is my family's refined technique."
Jerry crouched beside the array. He wasn't listening like a typical student; instead, his fingers reached out, cautiously brushing the now-invisible runic lines. He could feel the faint, rhythmic pulse of magic against his skin.
"Fascinating design," he murmured, his gaze sharp. "Using the counter-current of mana to create an information black hole. But if the breaker doesn't choose to eavesdrop and instead uses a high-intensity 'Confringo' to blast the area, the structure would lose balance and collapse, wouldn't it?"
Isabella glanced at him, slightly surprised. It seems this little pervert isn't as ignorant as he looks.
"Correct," she admitted, a trace of unacknowledged praise in her voice. "That is why you need the second layer of protection."
She stood up and gestured for Jerry to back away. Then, she began to walk around the invisible ward in a highly complex pattern. Her wand traced paths in the air that left no visible trail. "The core of my family's ward-craft isn't the array itself, but the 'nesting.' Like a Russian doll, layer upon layer. The breaker thinks they've destroyed the core, but in reality, they've only triggered the next trap."
As her final step landed, a transparent ripple shimmered across the floor.
"Now, if you use 'Confringo' again..." Her lips curled into a proud smile. "The spell will be reflected directly back at the caster. This 'Mirror Reflection' ward is designed specifically for little brats like you who love using brute force."
She handed her wand to Jerry. "Go ahead. Try it. Break this double ward I've set. If you can do it, I'll teach you something even more powerful."
Jerry took the wand, weighing it in his hand, but he didn't cast immediately. He broke into a cheeky grin, his usual reckless attitude returning. "Senior, breaking a ward just for the sake of it is so dry." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a seductive rasp. "If I succeed, is there any... substantial reward?"
His eyes swept over her body with deep intent, making her cheeks flush. Isabella knew exactly what he was after. She glared at him but didn't speak. Instead, she turned and walked into the center of the invisible double ward.
Then, right in front of him, Isabella bent over. She slowly hiked up the hem of her knee-length school skirt. Beneath it, she wore only simple white cotton panties, which tightly hugged her rounded, developing buttocks. She tucked her skirt into her waistband and propped her hands on her knees, thrusting her rear high into the air, aimed directly at Jerry outside the array. The posture stretched the white fabric taut, outlining the deep crease of her ass.
Vroom.
A soft sound, like a spell activating, escaped her throat. The ward was triggered by her presence. An invisible barrier now separated them completely. Her message was clear: You want the reward? Break through this shell first. Stop talking and show me what you can do.
Jerry had to admit, Isabella's talent for warding was staggering. This technique of nesting secret family methods with standard barriers was rare, even among master wizards. It wasn't just talent; it was the result of generations of heritage.
For Jerry, there were many ways to break this shell. The simplest was to flood it with his massive, almost savage mana—a high-intensity explosion spell. Raw power could solve anything if the gap was large enough. However, brute force didn't solve every problem.
He wasn't here just for a quick fuck. He was preparing for the dangerous inter-dimensional mission ahead. He was going to a world where the laws of physics and magic might be alien. In such an environment, a simple explosion spell might cause an unpredictable catastrophe. Jerry was powerful, but he wasn't arrogant enough to think he was invincible.
He remembered the pressure of Isabella's mother and her Medusa bloodline—that crushing, inescapable weight of petrification. He remembered his duel with Voldemort; if the dark wizard hadn't been so arrogant, Jerry would never have had the chance to trade a heavy injury for a temporary victory.
Skill, knowledge, and the understanding of rules were sometimes more vital than raw power. Today, Isabella was showing him her family's top-tier "rules." This was a perfect learning opportunity. If he could learn to deconstruct and bypass this ward with finesse, it would be a life-saving trump card in the unknown world.
As for the "reward"... Jerry smiled. Once you have the key, the treasure inside is yours whenever you want it.
He moved. He didn't chant an attack spell. Instead, he pressed the wand gently against the invisible barrier. He closed his eyes and sent a thread of his mana—like a sensitive tentacle—cautiously into the structure. He wasn't trying to break it; he was parsing it.
The mana flowed along the invisible lines, mapping out the architecture. Quickly, the first layer, "Whisper of Silence," was clear. He saw the three reverse Turbulence Runes in his mind. Simple enough.
He pushed deeper and struck the boundary of the second layer: the "Mirror Reflection" ward. This structure was far more complex. The flow of mana was erratic and shifting, like a maze of reefs and whirlpools. The moment his mana touched it, he felt a sting, as if a thousand needles had pricked him. A repulsive force surged back along his mana thread, making his body shudder.
Jerry refused to back down. He funneled more mana, trying to force his way through the boundary to find the core nodes. But the more he pushed, the harder it pushed back. After several attempts, he made no progress; instead, his arm went numb from the feedback, and sweat began to bead on his forehead.
In the center of the array, Isabella—still holding that provocative pose—sensed his struggle.
"What's wrong, little brat?" she laughed triumphantly, her voice drifting through the barrier with unmasked mockery. "The little boy who only knows brute force finally realizes what real ward-craft is? Your reward is right here. If you're so capable, come and take it!"
To further provoke him, she thrust her rear even higher. The white-clothed mounds jiggled slightly, a blatant challenge. She reached one hand behind her and began to knead her own rounded buttocks through the thin cotton.
"Nnh..." she moaned intentionally, as if comforting herself. "They... they miss you in here. If you don't hurry up, they'll start playing on their own."
Her fingers traced the curve of her cleft, sliding down to the damp, darkened triangle of the panties. She began to rub circles over the fabric, the moisture from her core making the spot look muddy and slick.
Squish... squish...
She mimicked the wet sounds of her own arousal, each syllable acting like a whip against Jerry's pride.
Jerry's face darkened. He admitted it—Isabella had him exactly where she wanted him. He suppressed his rising heat and closed his eyes again. This time, he didn't try to meet magic with magic. He changed his strategy.
He submerged his senses into the ambient mana of the room, like an experienced hunter searching for an "anchor." Any persistent ward must have a mana connection to the caster, like a string on a kite. If he could find that string, he could dismantle it from within.
His perception roamed the room and quickly locked onto the center—Isabella. He could feel the magic radiating from her body.
"Found you."
He focused, trying to disguise a thread of his mana to mimic Isabella's own frequency, attempting to slip in along that "string." However, just as he was about to merge, the second layer flared with light. His disguise was instantly pierced. A rebound force stronger than before slammed into him. He groaned, stumbling back a step, his face pale.
Failure again.
"Pfft!"
Isabella couldn't help but laugh at his defeat. Her boldness grew. "You useless thing," she mocked, before doing something even more extreme.
She straightened her back just enough to tear off her tucked skirt and throw it aside. Then, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of her soaked white panties. Slowly, inch by inch, she peeled them down over her rounded ass. The white fabric slid off her curves and pooled at her ankles.
She bent over again, higher than before. "Look!" She glanced back, her eyes heavy with lust, her voice thick and honeyed. "It's waiting for you... but you just can't get in."
She slid a finger toward the muddy valley between her legs. The moment her fingertip brushed the entrance of her wet canyon, she let out a long, shuddering sigh. Then, without hesitation, she shoved the finger inside.
Squelch...
The thick juices were churned, creating a sound that would make anyone blush. One finger wasn't enough for a body that had already been stretched. Soon, a second and third finger joined.
"Gulp... squish... ah..."
Each time she withdrew them, they brought out strings of clear fluid that glistened in the candlelight. Each thrust sent a wave of pleasure through her. Her hips began to rock back and forth uncontrollably, her butt-cheeks swaying in tempting waves.
"Ah... hah... Jerry... you... you failure..." she panted between insults. "Hurry up... get in here... use that... big thing... ah!"
Her breaths, a mix of desire and degradation, pounded against Jerry's nerves. However, just as his anger and lust were about to shatter his reason, Jerry's eyes suddenly turned cold and calm. He closed them, forcibly stripping the image of her swaying white body and the sound of her wet moans from his perception.
He entered a state of meditative stillness. His mind became a smooth, dustless mirror. All external stimuli became meaningless background noise.
This time, he didn't release any aggressive mana. Instead, he let his consciousness drift like invisible smoke, filling every corner of the ritual room. He stopped looking at the brilliant center and started feeling the "boundaries" and "supports" of the entire system. He stopped seeing the wards as two separate layers and began to view them as a single, interconnected whole.
Slowly, a new map of the mana structure appeared in his mind. He didn't see two nested shells; he saw a sinister, exquisite linkage.
The first layer, "Whisper of Silence," wasn't just for noise. Those three Turbulence Runes were actually "emotion detectors"! They acted like sensitive antennae, capturing the emotional fluctuations of anyone outside—specifically anger, impatience, and... lust.
And the second layer, the "Mirror Reflection," didn't have a fixed strength. Its power was directly tied to the intensity of the emotions detected by the first layer!
The more angry Jerry became, the more he rushed, and the more he was provoked by lust, the stronger the reflection became—growing exponentially. It was a terrifying trap. A perfect closed loop.
Jerry snapped his eyes open. He finally understood.
Everything Isabella had done—the mocking words, the hiked skirt, the removal of her panties, even her insulting him while she masturbated—it wasn't just petty provocation. It was a calculated move to drive him into a whirlwind of the most primitive, intense emotions.
Isabella had turned her own body and Jerry's emotions into the very "fuel" for the ward! She was teasing him with her flesh while using his arousal to build an impregnable wall to keep him out. This woman had factored human desire and psychology into her magic. This wasn't just ward-craft; it was a psychological curse.
"So... that's how it is."
"Senior!" Jerry's voice was suddenly calm, clear, and devoid of any emotional weight. "You really are a genius."
He looked at Isabella, who was still lost in her self-pleasure and hadn't reacted to his sudden compliment. His smile widened. Then, he did the simplest, yet most difficult thing possible.
Jerry let go of every scrap of emotion.
Anger, lust, impatience, competitiveness—every drop of "fuel" that the ward could utilize was systematically extinguished. In that moment, Jerry's mind became a dead sea, windless and wave-less, without a single ripple. The monstrous rod between his legs remained painfully hard, a testament to his body's primal instincts, but his spirit had transcended it.
He raised his wand once more and pointed it forward. No incantation was spoken; he simply touched the tip to the invisible barrier.
Almost instantly, the "Mirror Reflection" ward—which had been nourished into an impregnable wall by Jerry's earlier negative emotions—emitted a groan of total collapse, as if its lifeblood had been drained.
In the center of the array, Isabella, who was still frantically digging into herself with her fingers, felt the flow of mana beneath her become chaotic. Before she could react, the invisible barrier around her began to melt, shatter, and evaporate like thin ice under a scorching sun.
Isabella froze.
Her fingers were still buried deep inside her slick, wet tunnel. She was still holding that shameful, high-arched pose, her face flushed and dazed from her own self-pleasure. She looked at the boy outside the circle, who was now wearing a faint, knowing smile, with utter disbelief.
How did he...
Before she could process it, Jerry stepped through. The boundaries of the ward no longer existed for him. He walked up behind her, looking down at her wide-open, glistening sanctuary and the fingers still comically stuck inside it. He didn't say a word. He simply reached down and gripped the wrist she was using to please herself.
Then, with an irresistible force, he pulled her fingers out of her muddy warmth, one by one.
Squelch...
As her fingers left, a torrent of love-honey gushed out, making a loud, wet sound. Isabella's body went limp, and she nearly collapsed, but Jerry caught her by the waist from behind. He supported her soft frame and then knelt down between her legs.
The move took her by surprise. She looked down, meeting Jerry's upward gaze, which was filled with playful intensity. He was kneeling right at the junction of her thighs. Before she could speak, she felt a warm, soft muscle brush against the wettest, most sensitive part of her.
It was Jerry's tongue.
"Ah...!" Isabella let out a sharp, short cry.
Jerry ignored her reaction. He buried his face against her. He inhaled the unique scent of her arousal mixed with the musk of a young woman, then opened his mouth. Like a man savoring a rare delicacy, he began to lick the petals that were slightly parted and dripping with nectar.
His tongue was incredibly agile. First, he circled the outer rim, lapping up the overflowing fluids, and then he concentrated his fire on the swollen, glistening pearl of her clitoris. He flicked it rapidly with the tip of his tongue, then covered the entire nub, sucking hard.
Every suck was accompanied by a messy slurp-slurp sound, making Isabella feel as though every ounce of her strength was being drained away.
"Ngh... hah..."
Isabella couldn't stay upright anymore and slumped onto the floor. The fall forced her legs even wider, presenting her most private areas even more completely to Jerry. He moved forward, letting her thighs rest over his shoulders.
"You brat... you... nngh-ah..."
She wanted to curse him, but her words dissolved into broken moans. Jerry's assault grew more aggressive. No longer satisfied with the outside, he shoved his tongue deep into her passage.
Gulp... squelch... AAAH!
Isabella shattered. She gripped Jerry's hair with both hands, her back arching and her stomach spasming. Waves of heat erupted from deep within her, all of which were swallowed greedily by Jerry.
It took a long time for her to drift back from the afterglow. She was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, panting heavily as she watched the boy slowly wipe his mouth. Her gaze was a mess of conflicting emotions.
"You little bastard..." her voice was raspy but carried a satisfied lilt. "In... this area, you certainly have a gift."
With that, Isabella suddenly raised her legs like a pair of scissors, pinning Jerry's head firmly between them and pressing him back against her messy core. Feeling his warm cheeks against her still-shivering petals, a sense of absolute, controlling satisfaction surged within her.
"Indeed... you are exactly the man I chose."
Before the sun had fully risen, a sliver of grey light filtered through the gap in the curtains, barely illuminating a corner of the room. Jerry opened his eyes, his consciousness rising from a deep sleep. He didn't move; he simply felt his body.
His lower half was tightly encased in a warm, wet, and soft place. It was a lingering, addictive comfort. He turned his head slightly. Catherine was curled up beside him like a submissive cat, still fast asleep. Her golden hair was scattered across the pillow, several strands stuck to her sweat-dampened cheeks. Her brow was slightly furrowed, as if her dreams were troubled, but her lips were parted, her even breaths brushing against Jerry's chest.
They were entangled in an incredibly intimate position. Catherine was on her side, one long leg hooked high over Jerry's waist to allow him to remain buried as deep as possible. He was still fully inside her. After a night of being soaked and nourished by her, he could feel her internal walls were incredibly soft and compliant, giving a faint, pleasurable squeeze with every breath she took.
Time to go, Jerry told himself. Today was the day.
He gripped Catherine's waist and began to slowly, inch by inch, pull himself out. It wasn't easy. His monstrous member had spent the entire night inside her and was now perfectly molded to her slick interior. As he moved, a wet friction sound filled the room.
Gulp... squelch...
Thick white fluids, mixed with Catherine's own juices, were squeezed out by his movement, trailing down her thighs. With every inch he withdrew, the shameful sound of wetness grew clearer. In her sleep, Catherine seemed to feel the emptiness; she let out a soft, feminine moan and squeezed her legs together, trying to keep the retreating warmth inside her.
Jerry paused, kissed her smooth forehead, and then didn't hesitate. He thrust his hips back, pulling his rod completely free.
POP!
The loud, wet sound echoed in the quiet room. The massive spear, coated in a thick, cloudy glaze, was finally free, swaying slightly in the air. Between Catherine's legs, her entrance—which had been stretched wide all night—remained slightly open, unable to close immediately. It wept white fluids, a scene of total, muddy devastation.
Jerry got out of bed barefoot, moving silently. In the bathroom, he turned on the faucet, letting the cold water wash away the fluids from his hands and his still-erect member. He looked at his youthful face in the mirror, then down at his adult-sized body and weapon, his eyes calm. The training with Isabella had taught him how to use skill and rules to build and deconstruct power.
Just as the water washed away the stickiness, a warm, soft body pressed firmly against his back. It was Catherine. She was awake. She didn't say anything; she just wrapped her arms around his chest and buried her face in his back. Her naked body pressed tight against him, her full breasts flattening against his spine. One of her legs hooked around his thigh, as if she were trying to pull him back into her world and lock him inside her forever.
Jerry could feel her trembling slightly—not from the cold, but from a suppressed anxiety.
"I thought I could leave quietly," Jerry said softly.
"Dream on," Catherine whispered, her voice thick. She looked up at him with watery blue eyes, then leaned in and kissed him hard, swallowing the rest of his words.
After a long moment, she pulled away. "Don't take cold showers."
Warm water began to pour from the showerhead, enveloping them both. Catherine didn't let him wash himself. She took the shower gel, lathered it in her hands, and began to meticulously rub the foam over his body. When her hands reached between his legs and gripped the massive shaft—now fully hard again from the kiss—she paused.
She looked up at him, her eyes full of desire, longing, and a flicker of fear she didn't even realize she had. She didn't speak. She simply knelt down in the rushing water, opened her mouth, and took the foam-covered monster—along with the warm water—into her throat.
"Mmph... gulp..."
She sucked with intensity, her throat working hard as if she wanted to carve his scent and taste into her very soul. The water, foam, and her own saliva mixed together, dripping from the corners of her mouth in a scene of pure, unadulterated lewdness.
After the shower, Catherine dried Jerry off with a large towel and sat him on the edge of the bed. She pulled out various shimmering magical accessories from her storage chest.
"Hand," she commanded.
She took a plain-looking obsidian ring and slid it onto his middle finger. The size adjusted perfectly. The moment it was on, the light vanished, making it look like a common trinket. Then came a thin necklace of woven mithril, which she fastened around his neck. It, too, seemed to sink into his skin and disappear. Then came studs, bracelets, anklets... to an outsider, Jerry looked like he was wearing nothing at all.
Finally, she helped him dress, smoothing every wrinkle in his clothes. She stepped back, looking at the young man who was about to go so far away.
Catherine took a deep breath, stepped forward, and pushed him back onto the bed. Before he could react, she straddled him, hiked up her nightgown, and aimed his massive rod—still wet from her mouth—at her own damp sanctuary.
Squelch!
She didn't hesitate. She sat down hard, taking the thick spear all the way to the hilt in one go.
"Ah...!"
The extreme fullness made her moan with comfort. She didn't move further. Instead, she looked down at Jerry, dipped her finger in her own saliva, and began to draw something on his chest. A complex mark formed over his heart, then faded into a lingering warmth.
"This is a 'Bloodline Link.' No matter where you are, I will feel that you are still alive."
She leaned down and bit his neck hard, sucking until she left a deep, dark hickey. The mark flashed red and vanished. Finally, she cupped his face and pressed a deep kiss to his forehead. The kiss turned into a wave of invisible mana, seeping into the depths of his soul.
"This is..." her voice turned raspy, trembling slightly. "My beacon. If you... don't come back... I will use this as a coordinate to find you."
She lay on top of him, feeling his heartbeat inside her, trying to freeze time.
"Jerry... you lewd little bastard master, remember this!" She rubbed her cheek against his, her voice low and filled with absolute resolve. "If you dare die out there, I will flip that entire world upside down just to find your bones. And then... and then I'll find a place to bury myself right next to you."
The morning mist hadn't fully cleared, and the silhouette of Hogwarts looked solemn in the dawn. Jerry walked out of the heavy oak doors alone. In the courtyard, an extravagant pumpkin carriage sat waiting, pulled by four snow-white winged Pegasi.
The carriage door was open. Professor McGonagall—Minerva—sat inside, her face stern, looking as though she were rushing him. Jerry looked at the fairytale scene and his lip twitched.
He took one last look at the castle. The entrance was empty; there was no farewell party. But Jerry could feel it—behind those high windows, familiar eyes were watching him. Catherine, Isabella, Orphea, Liliana... and perhaps even Hermione.
Jerry took off his wizard's hat, held it to his chest, and bowed deeply toward the castle. When he looked up, his expression was calm. He strode to the carriage and sat opposite Minerva.
Thump.
The door closed automatically, sealing him off from Hogwarts. Inside, Minerva didn't waste time. She handed him a strange, silver pocket watch. Jerry took it, the cold metal smooth against his fingers. He didn't put it away, but toyed with it, feeling the complex enchantments carved into its surface.
Minerva's usually stern face softened. She looked out the window as the towers of Hogwarts became distant specks on the horizon.
"That watch is called 'Hermes' Gaze.' It contains an 'Absolute Time Stop' spell. Activating it creates a stasis field thirty meters in diameter. Everything inside will be frozen except for you. This is the final trump card Albus and I could prepare for you."
Having said that, she seemed to relax completely. She was no longer sitting upright but lounged back into the velvet seat, undoing the top button of her collar to reveal a patch of pale skin.
Then, right in front of Jerry, she slowly raised a leg. It was encased in black silk stockings, ending in a pointed high heel. She extended her foot and let the tip of her shoe tap gently against his crotch.
Jerry's massive member reacted instantly, propping up an exaggerated tent in his trousers. A satisfied smirk played across Minerva's lips. She kicked off her high heels, leaving only her elegantly shaped feet encased in sheer black silk stockings.
Minerva raised her foot, using her toes to hook and slide down Jerry's zipper. Then, she pressed her entire sole against him.
"Nngh..."
Even through the layer of his underwear, Minerva could feel the staggering size and heat of the beast. She ground the arch of her foot back and forth along the thick length, using her toes to pinch and tease the enormous head.
"You're going on a long journey," Minerva's voice turned low and sultry, carrying the weight of an irresistible command. "The Professor needs to... conduct a thorough inspection to see if this disobedient little thing is hiding any contraband."
Jerry didn't speak. He simply reached out and gripped the ankle of the foot treading on his crotch. Minerva thought he was going to resist, but instead, he lifted her foot higher and leaned down, taking her silk-covered toes into his mouth one by one.
"Oh!"
Minerva's body shuddered. Jerry used his tongue to meticulously lick each toe, sucking in the faint scent of leather and perfume through the silk. His other hand freed his member, letting the monstrous meat-cannon spring forth in all its glory.
Drip.
A drop of pre-cum fell onto the velvet seat.
"You little brat..." Minerva's voice trembled. She could feel her own core beginning to grow slick. She withdrew her foot, the silk now darkened and wet from his mouth.
Minerva McGonagall adjusted her slightly rumpled robes and knelt before Jerry. She looked up, her usually stern, unapproachable face now painted with desire and submission. Staring at the terrifyingly large shaft aimed at her face, she flicked her tongue over her lips. Then, she slowly lowered her head and opened her mouth, cautiously taking the massive head inside.
"Mmph..."
Her mouth couldn't even come close to containing the incredible girth. The head alone filled her entire oral cavity. She struggled to swallow deeper, her cheeks hollowing as she tried to accommodate him. Jerry gripped her hair and began to thrust slowly into her mouth.
Muffled, incoherent whimpers escaped Minerva's throat. Her body swayed back and forth, entirely passive as she endured each of Jerry's rhythmic lunges.
Squelch... slurp...
The wet, messy sounds echoed in the cramped carriage. Jerry felt the desire building toward a breaking point. He increased his speed, his hand firmly guiding her head. Minerva's eyes began to roll back; saliva leaked uncontrollably from the corners of her mouth, wetting her collar. She had to brace her hands against the seat just to keep her balance.
Finally, after one powerful thrust, Jerry's body spasmed. Torrent after torrent of hot, thick seed erupted with violent force, shooting directly into the back of her throat. Minerva's throat constricted from the sudden deluge. She instinctively tried to swallow, but Jerry immediately covered her mouth.
He released her hair and watched her face turn flush from the choking sensation. Her eyes were watery, and a mischievous smile played on his face.
Pop! Slap!
He gave his shaft a sharp slap. Minerva spat the thick, creamy fluid—mixed with her own saliva—into the black high heel she had discarded. The pointed shoe quickly filled with a pool of milky, viscous white.
Remaining on her knees, Minerva drew her wand and pointed it at the tip of the shoe. A silent cutting curse flicked out, neatly slicing off the very front of the shoe to create a small opening. Then, she picked up the modified heel, lifted her wizarding robes, and spread her legs. She aimed the opening of the shoe at her own sodden, muddy valley and tilted it up.
Gulp... glug...
The thick, white fluid, carrying Jerry's body heat, poured out of the shoe and into her most private, heated depths without losing a single drop. The coldness of the leather and the warmth of the fluid stimulated her sensitive petals simultaneously, forcing a sigh of pure comfort from her lips as her body shivered.
Minerva tossed the useless shoe aside and looked up at Jerry with dazed eyes. She straddled his lap, her movements much softer this time.
Squelch...
With almost no resistance, she sank onto him, swallowing his length completely. She sighed in satisfaction, leaning her head on his shoulder. She didn't move vigorously, only using the muscles of her hips to grind against him in a slow, lingering rhythm.
Much later, as the carriage began to vibrate with a regular, intensifying frequency, Minerva reluctantly climbed off him. They cleaned themselves in silence with Scouring Charms, helping each other re-adjust their pristine robes as if the last hour had been nothing but a dream.
Minerva sat back in her seat, her face returning to its usual stern mask, though a lingering trace of post-coital glow remained in the corners of her eyes.
"I trust you realize what that was," Minerva said, her voice calm. "It was the 'pledge of loyalty' Albus required of you."
"Albus is far too suspicious," she added with a hint of helplessness. "But it can't be helped. In his life, he has only ever truly trusted two men with his whole heart: one was named Gellert Grindelwald, and the other was Tom Riddle. In the end, both betrayed him and nearly destroyed everything we cherish."
She looked out the window. It was no longer the familiar grounds of Hogwarts, but a distorted, shifting landscape of light and shadow.
"Don't let the current state of the Wizarding Legion fool you. It looks grand, but it's built on a knife's edge. We... we cannot survive another civil war."
She turned back to Jerry, her gaze solemn. "So, once you enter that world, you must be careful. Beyond careful. Most importantly: do not attempt to establish the teleportation array immediately."
"A world that is completely independent—one we have never touched—will have its own laws and unique mana frequency. Our inter-dimensional arrays have mana fluctuations that are extremely distinct and aggressive. If you activate it prematurely, it will be like dropping red-hot iron into a still lake. Every mana-sensitive creature for a hundred miles will notice you."
As she finished, the carriage shuddered violently. Jerry looked out the window to see a pitch-black rift slowly opening in the chaotic light ahead, looking like a massive, silent eye. The pumpkin carriage didn't slow down; it dove headfirst into the darkness.
There was no turbulence, no dizzying spin. Jerry only felt an irresistible but gentle pulling force enveloping the carriage. Outside, the view was pure, absolute darkness, as if light itself were being swallowed. Time and space became blurred.
Suddenly, the world opened up.
Blinding but cool sunlight flooded in from all directions. Jerry smelled air that was fresh yet metallic, tinged with the scent of earth. The carriage landed smoothly on a vast plaza of black rock with a soft thud.
The door slid open, and Minerva stepped out first. They weren't in a wilderness; they were inside a military fortress of unfathomable scale, a place of magic and rigid order.
First was the sky. There were no clouds. Above them was a giant dome consisting of billions of rotating golden runes. It acted like an inverted bowl, covering the entire fortress in a constant, soft glow. Beneath that dome, Jerry saw seven moons of varying sizes and colors, each moving on its own trajectory. One crimson moon even showed visible veins of flowing lava on its surface.
Below the sky were countless wonders. At the edge of the plaza, a black tower rose so high it seemed to pierce the center of the runic sky. It wasn't made of stone, but a material as smooth as obsidian, covered in silver veins that pulsed like biological blood vessels, channeling mana from the sky and the earth.
Dozens of smaller floating islands orbited the tower. Some were herb gardens overflowing with exotic plants; others were workshops filled with alchemical gear. Rainbow-colored light bridges connected the islands, with wizards in various robes crossing between them.
On the plaza itself, the true power of the Wizarding Legion was on display. A squad of Ironclad Golems, each over ten meters tall, marched past with heavy, synchronized steps. Each footfall made the rock groan. They had no faces, only smooth visors etched with warning runes. Some carried massive magical cannons like battering rams; others used six thick arms to unload metal supply crates from airships towed by giant beetles.
On the other side was a massive taming yard. Dozens of "Land Dragons"—creatures the size of small hills with six legs and heavy shells—were being fitted with saddles and ballista platforms by wizards using electrified chains. Above them, flocks of Griffins and Wyverns circled. These weren't the tame beasts of Hogwarts; they looked fierce, armored in mithril, ridden by aerial combat wizards in uniform.
Jerry even saw a Winged Serpent, over fifty meters long and covered in blue scales, take off from a floating dock. The gust from its wings nearly knocked the robes off his back.
The fortress was a giant war machine, operating with terrifying efficiency. The air smelled of ozone and rare magical components. There was no chatter, only the rumble of golems, the low growl of beasts, and the hum of machinery. Every wizard was focused and cold. They didn't wear Hogwarts robes; they wore functional, tight-fitting uniforms. Combat wizards carried enchanted shortswords alongside their wands.
A three-man patrol noticed them. The captain froze for a second before marching over. He gave a crisp military salute—fist to the left chest.
"Professor McGonagall," his voice was strong. "We didn't expect you here. Do you have orders for us?"
Minerva nodded, her expression returning to that of the stern Deputy Headmistress. She gestured to Jerry. "I am escorting the Vanguard Scout, Jerry Rosier, to report for duty. As of today, he is no longer a student of Hogwarts. He is an official member of the Wizarding Legion, assigned to the Mole Mission."
When the name "Rosier" left her mouth, the air seemed to freeze.
The captain's expression was a sight to behold. He started to nod professionally, but then the weight of the name hit his brain. His pupils shrunk, his face went pale, and his jaw tightened. The two men behind him had even more visceral reactions. The younger one instinctively reached for his wand, eyes full of unmasked hostility. The other gasped, looking at Jerry as if he were a demon in human skin.
Rosier.
In the wizarding world, it wasn't just a name; it was a brand. It represented one of the oldest, most fanatical, and most notorious pure-blood families—a family famous for pursuing Dark Arts without limits and for being the most loyal followers of Grindelwald. The number of Aurors who had died at the hands of a Rosier was staggering.
And now, a boy named Rosier was a Vanguard Scout on a top-secret Mole Mission? It was like letting a viper guard a hen-house. Suspicion and alert-levels spiked instantly among the patrol.
However, no one dared to argue. Because the person who said the name was Minerva McGonagall.
The captain struggled to look away from Jerry's calm, youthful face and met Minerva's eyes. He saw the immovable ice in her gaze. He knew that while she held no current specific rank in the front-line legion, her influence was everywhere. As Dumbledore's most trusted lieutenant and a hero of the last war, she could become a high-ranking official in the Ministry—or higher—any time she wished. She stayed at Hogwarts because she chose to. To cross her was to challenge the authority of the Ministry itself.
The captain swallowed hard. He forced his doubts down and saluted again, though his voice was dry. "Understood, Professor. I will process Mr. Rosier's induction immediately and take him to the Mole Project office."
He emphasized the word "Mr." as if reminding himself that, regardless of the name, these were his orders.
"I will go with you," Minerva said to Jerry, her tone final.
Jerry, however, shook his head. He stepped forward, standing slightly ahead of Minerva, and met the scrutiny of the patrol with a steady gaze. His voice was quiet but perfectly clear.
"No need, Professor. I can handle this myself."
Minerva looked at his profile. On that young face, she saw a calm and composure far beyond his years. She realized this wasn't just confidence in his power; it was a choice. If he needed her protection for the first gate, he would never survive the mission itself.
Her sharp eyes darted between Jerry and the captain. Finally, she nodded. "Very well."
She didn't say another word, but she reached out and meticulously straightened his collar, her touch gentle in stark contrast to her stern expression.
"Stay safe, come back early for class... Darling!"
Only one person heard that last word.