The banquet had officially begun.
As Minister Fudge's voice faded, the brilliance of the crystal chandeliers in the center of the hall intensified, showering the guests in colorful light.
A lively dance tune struck up, dispelling the post-speech silence and pushing the hall toward a joyful climax.
Jerry slipped away quietly from between Vera and Amelia.
With a light touch of Vera's toe and a gentle push from Amelia's hand, he extricated himself smoothly. Looking back, he saw them exchange another glance.
He wiped his hands, the residual warmth reminding him of the madness just now.
The music echoed off the ceiling, and wizards began to dance.
Young boys and girls from Pure-blood families sought partners. Fingertips brushed and eyes met as they exchanged dances. Specks of magical light escaped from their steps, synchronizing with the music, making the dancers even more enchanting. Every close encounter brought a whiff of unfamiliar fragrance.
Adult wizards danced with elegance and solemnity, but their eyes were filled with desire. Gentlemen's fingers lingered on their partners' waists; witches' gazes searched for companions. Their laughter was restrained, their movements polished.
The tempo quickened.
Jerry wove through the crowd, feeling the ambiguity in the air. Young and mature bodies intertwined and collided. Under the magical lights, a web of social and emotional connections was quietly being woven.
He was about to find a hidden corner to calm down from the earlier frenzy when a crisp, familiar female voice rang in his ear:
"Jerry!"
He paused and looked toward the sound. It was Professor McGonagall.
Standing beside her was a girl who made it impossible for him to look away.
No, rather than a girl, it was a peculiar existence with the appearance of a girl.
She wore a gown that seemed simple but was woven from moonlight silk. The silver-white skirt had no superfluous adornments but flowed with watery brilliance as she moved, as if she were draped in moonlight itself.
Her near-transparent platinum blonde hair hung smoothly to her waist, accentuating her small, exquisite face. Her skin was as white as fine porcelain, flawless without a single blemish or line.
Her violet eyes were deep and ancient, calm yet revealing an indifference and weariness that did not belong to her age, as if she had weathered centuries of storms.
This striking pair made the surrounding wizards unconsciously clear a space for them.
"I'm here!"
Jerry replied politely, but his gaze involuntarily shifted back and forth between the girl and Professor McGonagall.
"Jerry, come here quickly!"
McGonagall turned to the girl beside her, introducing her with a hint of resignation: "This is President Aurora Sterling, leader of the Magical Congress of the United States of America. She insisted on meeting you."
Aurora's gaze landed on Jerry. Those violet eyes held no ripple of emotion, as if scrutinizing an antique.
Her sight swept over Jerry's seemingly innocent face, finally resting on his eyes, which still held a trace of childishness but already revealed shrewdness.
"Oh, so you are the Little Rosier!"
Aurora's voice was cool and calm, carrying an emotionless indifference, as if the "outstanding star" she spoke of was merely a label, not a living person.
There was even a huskiness in her tone that didn't match her youthful appearance, as if she hadn't spoken for a very long time.
Jerry looked at this "girl"—Aurora Sterling. He wore a respectful, appropriate smile, but his pupils contracted slightly.
Jerry's Slaanesh Eye, a talent usually unfailing in its voyeurism, seemed to encounter an invisible barrier.
He tried to read the emotional fluctuations of this ancient being, but found only a blank slate. No ripples, no colors.
This was an unprecedented experience.
Even facing a wizard as powerfully unfathomable as Dumbledore, Jerry could detect a faint pulse of emotion, like a weak tide in the deep sea—barely perceptible, but enough to guess his mood.
But Aurora Sterling, this wizard with the appearance of a teenage girl, had an emotional sea as calm as a mirror, without a single wave. It was as if "emotion" didn't exist for her, like a puppet without a soul.
This was a sign of immense mental strength—strong enough to seal any emotional leakage tight.
While alarm bells rang in Jerry's mind, an irrepressible curiosity also surged.
His overly focused, somewhat penetrating gaze seemed to be noticed by Aurora.
Her violet eyes, originally unfocused, seemed to blink very slightly, consciously. Then, her eyebrow arched almost imperceptibly, like a butterfly's wing.
A tiny movement, yet it carried an indescribable pressure, as if responding to Jerry's silent prying.
Aurora didn't react immediately.
Instead, she turned her head slightly and complained to McGonagall beside her: "Minerva, I really don't understand why the music at modern wizarding banquets has to be so noisy. Listen to this racket! It's torturing my ears."
Her delicate brows furrowed slightly, eyes revealing obvious annoyance. "Even I find this sound a bit irritating. It's simply a desecration of elegance."
McGonagall sighed helplessly and shrugged. "Aurora, this is how wizards express enthusiasm and celebration. Times are always progressing."
"Progress?"
Aurora's lips curved into a barely visible arc, tinged with mockery. "I'd rather go back to the era of bards and harps. At least then, the music didn't make one feel like their eardrums were under magical attack. Minister Fudge really found a terrible band."
As she spoke, her gaze suddenly shifted from the noisy dance floor to Jerry's face. A glint of playfulness and interest flashed in her cold eyes.
"What is this?"
With a light beckon of her hand, a small, oddly shaped metal object with two round shells and a delicate chain flew straight out of Jerry's inner pocket. Glowing with faint magic, it landed steadily in her palm.
Jerry's face flushed instantly, embarrassment creeping onto his boyish features. He instinctively covered his inner pocket.
McGonagall's gaze also fell on the object in Aurora's palm. Her face darkened, a flash of annoyance and shame in her eyes.
She knew this little bastard Jerry always carried these erotic toys, but she hadn't expected him to be caught red-handed by Aurora in such a noble and solemn setting.
McGonagall glared at Jerry covertly, warning him with her eyes to behave.
Aurora's violet eyes examined the nipple clamp in her palm meticulously. A look hovering between curiosity and innocence appeared on her cold face, which was unnerving to watch.
"So pretty... how is this used?"
Aurora's husky voice held puzzlement.
She brought the clamp near her ear, seeming to want to clip it on her earlobe. However, her fingers twitched, as if sensing something wrong.
Her gaze swept the crowd coming and going in the lively hall. No one noticed the strangeness in this corner.
Aurora's slender fingers, incredibly naturally, found her left breast through the moonlight silk gown.
She clipped the exquisite clamp directly onto her round nipple, wrapped in silk!
In that instant, both Jerry and McGonagall stopped breathing.
"Mmh..."
A very short, almost inaudible muffled sound escaped Aurora's lips.
It was so light that only the three of them could hear it, yet it brushed against the onlookers' heartstrings like a feather.
Through the layer of moonlight silk, Jerry could clearly see the clamped nipple trembling slightly. Fixed by the clamp, it protruded enticingly.
The smooth surface of the silk even showed faint ripples spreading outward due to the agitation underneath.
Aurora's breathing, though controlled, couldn't completely hide the slightly hurried rise and fall.
Her ancient, waveless violet eyes now stared straight at Jerry. Her cool, raspy voice carried a strange temptation: "Does it look good?"
Jerry's Adam's apple bobbed. A primal impulse rose from the bottom of his heart—the excitement of challenging the strong and mastering danger.
Almost instinctively, Jerry took a few steps forward and fished another identical nipple clamp from his pocket.
The clamp spun lightly in his fingers, gleaming metallically.
"Madam, of course it looks good."
Jerry's answer carried a unique boyish arrogance and boldness.
He reached out, signaling to put the clamp on Aurora's other breast.
Just as Jerry's arm was about to touch Aurora's right breast, a shadow suddenly loomed.
McGonagall moved like lightning. Her foot, clad in an exquisite high heel, shot out silently from under her long gown. Using the cover of the fine tablecloth hanging from the nearby small table, she stepped accurately and mercilessly on Jerry's meat root, which had just begun to harden from excitement!
The powerful stomp, though through layers of fabric, carried a strong warning.
Jerry's body snapped tight. An indescribable mix of pain and stimulation almost made him lose his balance.
He grunted, nearly dropping the clamp.
"Jerry!"
McGonagall's voice was low and suppressed. Her gaze cut into Jerry like a knife. The look held both shame and warning, clearly saying: Does this little bastard know no limits?!
All this happened in a flash, unnoticed by outsiders.
Aurora's violet eyes clearly caught all of McGonagall's movements.
She looked down at McGonagall's heel stepping on Jerry's lifeblood, then up at Jerry's face twisted in pain and arousal, and finally settled on McGonagall's shamed and angry expression.
Her lips curved into an extremely faint smile—a smile containing understanding, teasing, and even a hint of... mischief.
Aurora's gaze returned to Jerry. Her ancient eyes seemed disturbed by a playful pebble, ripples spreading outward.
"Minerva!"
As Aurora spoke, she leaned forward slightly. The silver-white gown of moonlight silk drooped with her movement, revealing her slender, sculpted neck and elegant collarbones.
Simultaneously, her chest thrust forward slightly. Though flattened by the dress, the distinct curve hinted at the outline of the clamp, as if inviting Jerry to touch. On her left breast, the clamp shone coldly, forming an extreme contrast with her pure, flawless maiden face.
"Jerry!"
McGonagall's voice turned raspy again. She increased the pressure underfoot, grinding Jerry's meat root into the floor with her high heel as if to crush it.
Her gaze shot viciously at Jerry, conveying a clear message: Stop, or suffer the consequences.
However, Jerry's gaze was completely captivated by Aurora's slightly thrust-out chest.
He seemed blind to McGonagall's warning, his desire to challenge deepened by the "mischief" in Aurora's eyes.
Jerry hunched slightly, turning the pain of oppression into motivation, and lunged forward like a cheetah.
McGonagall's pupils contracted violently. She tried to stop him, but Jerry was too fast.
Contrasted against his small frame, Aurora seemed exceptionally tall.
He extended his small hand, fingertips holding the other clamp, and reached for Aurora's right breast with unstoppable momentum.
Just as the clamp was about to touch the moonlight silk, Aurora let out a short laugh laced with amusement.
The cool laugh made her chest tremble slightly before Jerry's fingertips. Then, Jerry accurately clipped the exquisite clamp directly onto the nipple of her right breast, hidden under the silk.
Click!
The crisp, tiny sound was almost inaudible in the noisy hall. But to Jerry and McGonagall, it sounded like thunder exploding in their ears.
Aurora's body jerked back the moment the clamp closed, but her violet eyes flashed with intenser interest.
Her breathing became more rapid. The silver-white silk dress, now fixed by two clamps, pulled tighter, outlining the tempting curves of her breasts. Two protruding nipples seemed to dance under the silk.
Squelch...
A very faint sound of fluid being squeezed rang out from under Aurora's skirt.
"You really are audacious, Little Rosier."
Aurora's voice carried a long-lost, human playfulness and mirth, even a hint of imperceptible huskiness, as if the stimulation had stirred a heat flow she hadn't felt in ages.
"Daring to molest... the President of the Magical Congress of the United States of America?"
She spoke softly, but her look became elusive, mixed with threat, teasing, and a brand-new, extreme curiosity about this small boy.
Her gaze swept carelessly over McGonagall. Her tongue poked out, licking the corner of her dry mouth slowly, with the bewitching laziness of a feline.
Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes in annoyance but didn't stop him further.
Her foot pressed on Jerry's meat root, and she couldn't help but stomp down hard again. The silent warning, along with the wet, soft elasticity rebounding from Jerry's crushed manhood, made Jerry almost hear a faint squish. Pain and itchiness intertwined; the meaning was self-evident.
Aurora ignored Minerva's little actions. She just shook her body lightly. The snowy peaks tightly pinched by the clamps bounced up and down. The two shiny metal ornaments danced rhythmically under the silk with her breathing, causing fine ripples on her silver-white gown.
"Offending the President carries the death penalty in America!"
Aurora said with a smile. Her voice was cool but full of mischief, as if narrating an ancient, interesting legend, yet also sounding like a genuine warning.
Surrounded by toasts and loud music, no one noticed the dangerous, erotic game happening in this corner.
Jerry grinned, revealing a provocative and presumptuous smile.
He reached out directly with the hand that had just offended the sacred peaks, forcefully fondling Aurora's left breast, tight under the silk. His fingertips pressed on the nipple, stimulated to greater hardness by the clamp. He clearly felt the tremor under his finger and even vaguely sensed sticky fluid secreting from it!
But a careful feeling later, it vanished. As if it were just an illusion.
Jerry's fingers rubbed wantonly, feeling the elasticity and tenderness through the thin moonlight silk.
"Then I'd better touch enough before I'm executed!"
Jerry's voice was hoarse, carrying the impulsive urge of youth.
Instead of stopping him, Aurora let out a giggle like silver bells, yet tinged with the weathering and cunning of time.
"You really are lustful and bold, little one. Much more interesting than Old Rosier."
As she spoke, the amusement in her eyes thickened.
She raised her hand slightly, her slender finger pointing gracefully at the air. A sugar-frosted angel immediately flew over, understanding her intent.
Aurora took a bottle of amber whisky from the tray—clearly aged. Without even looking at the label, she flicked the cork open, and a rich aroma of alcohol filled the air.
She took two empty glasses from the angel, filling the one in front of her. The liquid agitated with tiny bubbles, glowing enticingly.
"Come, little one."
Aurora swirled the glass, the action holding an undisguised invitation and challenge. "Drink a few with Big Sister!"
Saying this, she shoved one glass into Jerry's hand. The cold glass contrasted sharply with the burning heat of his palm. Her finger scratched his palm lightly, carrying a hint of incitement.
Jerry didn't refuse. Without even smelling it, he downed it in one gulp.
The spicy, mellow liquid burned his throat instantly, carrying a trace of scorching fire from his esophagus to his stomach, making his body, already burning with excitement, boil even more.
Professor McGonagall frowned, unconcealed worry in her eyes. She looked from Jerry to Aurora, hesitating to speak.
Jerry was still a boy. Drinking this high-purity Scottish Dragon Firewhisky was a challenge even for adult wizards.
"This is a whisky brewed from special plants around dragon caves, called 'Burning Heart'," Aurora introduced to Jerry with appreciation, ignoring Minerva's worry. "It can ignite the deepest passion in your heart and instantly drain all your sobriety. Every drop is saturated with the essence of dragon fire. Drinking it is like having fire burning in your chest."
After speaking, she threw her head back and downed her glass, her movements bold and unconstrained, unlike her cold, pure appearance.
Jerry slammed the empty glass onto the small table with a bang, jarring in the noisy dance hall.
He wiped the corner of his mouth. His flushed face carried a boyish unruliness and wildness.
"Burning Heart? Hah, this kick... is still lacking. Not satisfying enough!"
Jerry's tongue began to slur. Every word carried a heavy nasal tone and the smell of alcohol, yet he strove to maintain a provocative tone.
The heat inside him, ignited by the "Burning Heart," was now driving an impulse to challenge Aurora.
Aurora's violet eyes, shining under the lights, lit up instantly at the challenge, like a rekindled torch.
She narrowed her eyes, a nearly forgotten interest and mischief surging in their depths, lips curling into a wicked smile.
"Not satisfying enough? Hah! Little one, there are few in this world who can satisfy me, Aurora."
She snapped her fingers. Several bottles flew out of nowhere, landing steadily on the table.
There was ancient Elf Tears, Dwarven Rye Ale, and extremely high-purity Goblin Moonshine.
"Since you are so arrogant, let's have something exciting."
Aurora's raspy voice, soaked in alcohol, became more magnetic and seductive. From the bottles, she chose a blue "Frost Tear"—a spirit said to freeze a normal person instantly—and a dark green "Viper's Gall"—venomously spicy, specifically used to mix depth charges with "Burning Heart."
Skillfully, she poured the two liquors into new glasses, then filled Jerry's empty glass with "Burning Heart."
"Depth charge. Dare you?"
Aurora's eyes were like burning flames, carrying extreme provocation.
Her slender fingertips pushed the two filled glasses forward, signaling Jerry to choose his mixer.
Jerry didn't back down. He grinned, his drunken tongue still enunciating clearly: "Of course! Who's afraid of whom!"
He chose "Frost Tear" without hesitation.
A shot of "Burning Heart" was dumped into "Frost Tear," making a sizzling sound. Blue and amber collided violently, then merged rapidly.
Aurora did the same. Her finger twitched, and another "Burning Heart" poured into "Viper's Gall," the color turning chaotic instantly, carrying an inexplicable pressure.
The two drank cup after cup. The noise of the dance floor faded into background noise, leaving only the feverish clash of alcohol and hormones between them.
Jerry's face was red as a boiled shrimp. Sweat poured down his shiny forehead, soaking his hair.
He felt his head swelling, vision doubling, but the magical accessories on him ensured he wouldn't actually pass out—instead, they kept his mind incredibly clear.
This clarity, intertwined with the physical heat and chaos, brought an unprecedented, strange experience.
His body was numbed by alcohol, movements slowing by half a beat, tongue becoming disobedient.
"Mi... Minerva, you... hic... you have to admit, this kid... is interesting."
Aurora's voice began to carry obvious drunkenness, but her violet eyes remained bright, burning even hotter than before.
She slapped Jerry's shoulder hard, nearly knocking him onto the table. She looked at Jerry's face, vividly alive with intoxication, her eyes full of infatuation and appreciation.
"In all these years, it's the first time I... hic... met a kid like you, so interesting... and so bold!"
Her breathing became heavy, chest heaving violently under the silk.
Perhaps it was the alcohol, or the stimulation of Jerry's boldness, but the flush on Aurora's pure, youthful face deepened, spreading to her snowy neck.
Finding the restriction around her neck annoying, with a burst of drunken abandon, her slender fingers suddenly reached for the collar of her silver-white gown. She yanked hard. Several delicate buttons popped off instantly. The collar fell open, revealing a large expanse of creamy white skin and a looming cleavage, where the nipple clamps were even more conspicuous, flashing with tempting cold light.
She pulled the collar open but seemed to find it insufficient. Her long fingers reached inside, grabbing the moonlight silk and pulling it wide to the sides, exposing her entire chest even more defenselessly to the air.
Seeing this, McGonagall's expression changed sharply. She immediately moved to stop her.
She knew Aurora never played by the rules, but she hadn't expected her to be so rude and wanton in such a public setting.
However, Aurora was faster.
With a light wave of her hand, an invisible force spread instantly.
The surrounding gauze curtains, heavy velvet drapes, and hanging tapestries seemed to come alive. They swept in swiftly and silently from all directions. In just a few breaths, the corner where Jerry, McGonagall, and Aurora sat was seamlessly enclosed.
Faint light filtered through the gaps in the gauze, illuminating Aurora's face, which looked even more bewitching in her drunken haze.
Her violet eyes, misty with alcohol, stared straight at Jerry with a mischievous smile.
"Little one... didn't you want to be satisfied?"
Aurora's raspy voice carried an incredibly clear temptation.
Her formerly cool fingers, now burning hot, trembled as they reached into her exposed neckline.
Her movements were slightly clumsy but carried a raw, undisguised desire.
Aurora felt her breasts swelling with the alcohol, her clamped nipple becoming hypersensitive.
Instead of squeezing through the silk, she yanked the clamp off the outside of the fabric.
The tiny sound of metal rubbing against cloth carried a tearing thrill. Without hesitation, she opened the cold metal clamp and clipped it precisely, without a shred of doubt, onto her left nipple, which was already erect and trembling from the alcohol!
The nipple was instantly pulled and fixed under the metal grip, protruding even more prominently. One could almost feel the tiny blood vessels pulsing on its surface.
Then, her fingers, hot and reeking of alcohol, pressed directly onto the clamped, berry-like nipple.
Applying gentle pressure, the confined softness sought an exit under the clamp's restriction. A thread of warm, white liquid, like a pearl, oozed quietly from the tip of the nipple forced open by the clamp.
Drip... drip...
The milk, carrying a faint sweet scent, pure and tempting, fell drop by drop into the glass of whisky before her.
It merged quickly with the amber liquid, creating subtle, bewitching milky-white ripples, looking exceptionally ambiguous in the dim light of the drapes.
The air instantly filled with a peculiar scent—a mix of the strong, mellow whisky and the fresh, sweet aroma of breast milk.
As she continued to squeeze, Aurora's breast made faint squelch, squelch water sounds—the sound of milk flowing continuously into the glass.
"Now... is this satisfying enough?"
She stared at Jerry with burning eyes, lips curving into an arc of extreme temptation, challenging his limits.
With a resolve like facing death, Jerry swayed forward and grabbed the whisky mixed with Aurora's milk.
The liquid swirled in his hand, the cloudy white and golden amber weaving into a chaotic yet enchanting color.
Jerry threw his head back and downed the cup of forbidden, stimulating liquid in one go.
The spicy liquor mixed with the unique milky scent slid down his esophagus, carrying an indescribable heat that swept through his body instantly.
Jerry's cheeks were completely red; he felt as if he were in a burning furnace.
"Drunk yet?"
Aurora's raspy voice held a teasing playfulness. Her fingertips continued to gently press her nipple, ensuring the milk kept flowing from the clamp.
"Not... not drunk!"
Jerry retorted with a slur, trying to make his voice sound firm, but the alcohol was obvious.
The alcohol in his body danced like a rebellious elf in his veins, assaulting his reason.
Aurora's watery eyes were full of disbelief. She snorted lightly, her lips curling into a mocking smile.
"Bragging."
"I... I never brag!" Jerry slapped the table hard, making a loud thud. McGonagall flinched, her foot grinding down on his lifeblood again, a moderate warning not to go too far.
Jerry didn't seem to notice. His eyes, misty from alcohol, now shone with a drunken stubbornness and arrogance.
"If you don't believe me... I can still play! What... what do you want to hear?"
He reached out shakily, miming playing an instrument, mumbling incoherently.
Aurora's flushed face finally showed genuine surprise.
She was clearly intrigued by Jerry's drunken arrogance.
With a snort of challenge, Aurora grabbed an unopened bottle of emerald green wine with an Elvish label from the table—a rare brew meticulously made by Elves, equally high in alcohol content.
She threw her head back and downed half the bottle, her bold movements matching Jerry's.
Aurora wiped her mouth, a provocative smile in her eyes. "If you can play a complete piece, I'll... I'll... I'll give you a Department Head position in the Magical Congress of the United States of America!"
Jerry shook his head violently, his small hand now carrying a drunken persistence.
"No... don't want that."
Jerry swayed, his steps unsteady. If McGonagall hadn't supported him, he might have fallen.
"If I win... Aurora, you have to place an order with my upcoming Crystal Golem workshop! And drink a special cocktail I mix myself!"
Jerry stared at Aurora with burning eyes full of ambition.
Aurora's violet eyes locked onto Jerry. She felt the cold clamp and the hot nipple on her chest, and the excitement stirred by alcohol.
Her smile deepened, carrying an inexplicable anticipation.
"Deal!"
Aurora's voice was firm, carrying unquestionable boldness.
Her eyes shone with light—the excitement of finally finding a worthy opponent after a long time.
Almost half-dragged by McGonagall, Jerry stumbled through several draped corridors to the backstage of the banquet hall.
This was the source of the noise. An orchestra of over a dozen House-elves was playing magnificent music meticulously.
Dressed in clean white aprons, they held violins, blew horns, or struck strange magical instruments. Though comical in appearance, the music was rich and professional, amplified by magic to every corner of the hall.
Seeing McGonagall barge in with a drunk boy, the elves paused briefly. Some conductors even froze for half a second.
But recognizing McGonagall's stern, familiar face, they tactfully looked away and continued playing, their instruments moving rhythmically as if nothing had happened.
McGonagall's face remained grim. She held Jerry tight with one hand while pointing discreetly at a huge magical hourglass on the wall.
The blue crystal sand was falling steadily; the bottom was more than half full.
"There are still a dozen pieces left before this phase of the ball ends."
McGonagall's voice was low but playful. Her hand, hidden by her long sleeve, slipped silently deep into the inner pocket of Jerry's wide robes. She accurately grasped the meat root that had begun to swell again as the alcohol faded, her fingertips tightening in a punitive squeeze.
The searing heat transmitted clearly through the fabric. McGonagall leaned close to Jerry's ear, almost touching it. Her hot breath, mixed with the smell of alcohol, carried an intimacy unique to them. "Little bastard, it's not too late to back out now."
Her fingertips ground heavily on his tip—a warning action, self-evident.
Jerry's drunken, hazy eyes suddenly cleared, becoming sharp and cunning as if the clouds had parted.
The flush on his face didn't fade but deepened, carrying the thrill of feigning calm after being seen through.
He looked at McGonagall, lips curling into a wicked smirk, deliberately dragging out his voice: "Professor, I... I say I can... so I can!"
The firmness in his tone was a stark contrast to his slurred speech earlier.
McGonagall's hand stiffened noticeably at his "sobriety," her grip on his meat root tightening instinctively.
She realized then—this little bastard had been faking it all along!
She rolled her eyes in annoyance, a mix of anger and helplessness in her gaze.
"Was that drink good just now?"
Jerry shook his head righteously, his expression turning serious as if it were poison. "Bad! Not good at all!"
His exaggerated reaction made it seem like he truly detested the drink, yet the restlessness in his body grew more obvious.
"Really?" McGonagall raised an eyebrow, eyes full of disbelief and amusement.
"Really!" Jerry nodded vigorously, tone incredibly serious. Yet, his innocent boyish face now wore an indescribable look of desire.
Simultaneously, his hand patted a pocket on his seemingly ordinary robes—one enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm.
Rustle, rustle... With a faint sound, over a dozen Crystal Golems climbed out quickly.
Though crystal-like in texture, transparent and fluorescent, their features were carved to look seventy or eighty percent like Jerry—miniature versions of him poured out instantly.
Once out of the pocket, they grew rapidly. In a few blinks, they went from palm-sized to Jerry's height.
These Crystal Jerrys moved agilely and orderly. They rushed to the playing House-elves like Jerry's clones.
Jerry shook his head as if still waking up, but his gaze fell accurately on McGonagall's hand gripping his meat root.
With a devilish smile, he swayed his body gently. His semi-hard member jumped in her palm with the movement, creating a slippery friction.
"Professor, if you keep holding it, I can't play!"
Jerry's words carried an obvious double meaning, his eyes teasing.
McGonagall's flushed face turned crimson, looking ready to bleed.
She gave a vicious squeeze, a final warning mixed with indescribable complex emotions, then released her hand abruptly.
Freed from confinement, carrying the damp stickiness of being squeezed, the meat root stood up instantly, threatening to burst his trousers.
"I'll deal with you when we get back!"
She cursed in a low voice, a tone carrying a threat and anticipation only they understood.
Jerry shrugged, laughing fearlessly, and turned toward the House-elves.
He walked to the nearest elf, who was focused on playing a violin larger than its body.
Jerry reached out, snatching the violin with unquestionable brute force.
Simultaneously, the newly "grown" Crystal Golems moved. With extreme speed, precision, and fluidity, they snatched instruments from other elves—hugging horns, grabbing flutes, waving batons. Like a well-trained orchestra, they instantly replaced the House-elves.
McGonagall sighed helplessly watching the "Crystal Jerrys" skillfully take center stage, but said nothing.
She waved her hand, signaling the disarmed elves to retreat in an orderly fashion, leaving the stage entirely to Jerry and his "band."
McGonagall's task was to watch Aurora, ensuring this ancient, uncontrollable woman didn't cause trouble. Right now, Aurora was clearly more interested in Jerry's "performance."
In fact, this Thanksgiving banquet wasn't just a holiday celebration; its deeper purpose was tied to Aurora Sterling.
Ordered by the Ministry high command, McGonagall had personally invited the MACUSA President to Hogwarts. Her secret mission was to act as Aurora's guide and liaison.
Many senior female students at Hogwarts, and some young graduates, were McGonagall's proud protégés. They excelled in Transfiguration—a profound subject, worthy of its own course at Hogwarts.
In the wizarding world, especially on the front lines, Transfiguration was crucial for reconnaissance, infiltration, and disguise. Its strategic value was self-evident.
Aurora Sterling, the MACUSA President, once commanded a famous Transfiguration Warband. Their exploits were legendary even across the Atlantic.
Unfortunately, due to severe battle conditions, that elite warband suffered heavy losses on the front lines, eventually being wiped out.
Now, one of Aurora's goals was to select new wizards to replenish her Transfiguration Warband.
It was a known fact that MACUSA offered better benefits than the older, more conservative European Ministry.
More importantly, joining such a unique warband was a great way for any ambitious young wizard to climb the social ladder. After all, their missions were the most dangerous and vital frontline reconnaissance and infiltration tasks. High risk, but accompanied by endless glory, generous rewards, and a chance to rise quickly in the wizarding world.
Jerry had indeed given McGonagall a surprise.
Originally, Aurora's attitude toward selecting new members had been perfunctory. Her violet eyes remained calm, interest low; the number of candidates she circled was only a third of McGonagall's expectation. Aurora was even prepared to leave after this boring banquet with a random excuse.
But now, with Jerry stirring things up, ripples appeared in Aurora's long-silent heart. Interest rekindled in her eyes, leading her to start this absurd bet with the boy.
Looking at Aurora, now more vivid and alive due to the alcohol, a bold idea formed in McGonagall's mind: Perhaps she could find a good future for all her proud students—those witches proficient in Transfiguration but facing uncertain futures.
While Transfiguration was vital on the front lines, in peacetime, away from the battlefield, it was a restricted, dangerous magic.
Those proficient in it didn't live well. Their talents were unused, often misunderstood or feared due to the nature of the magic. Some gifted ones, despite their power, couldn't escape poverty, sometimes even degrading themselves to become bedwarmers for dignitaries—after all, they could become anyone to satisfy secret fetishes.
She took a deep breath, organized her thoughts, and returned to Aurora's table.
Aurora was drinking, seemingly waiting for Jerry's "band" to start.
McGonagall whispered a few words in Aurora's ear. Aurora's drunken eyes cleared slightly, a meaningful smile appearing on her face.
"Minerva, your proposal is interesting."
Aurora licked the corner of her mouth playfully. The fingers kneading her nipple stopped, the two clamps still shining coldly under the lights.
She stood up slowly, her graceful figure swaying slightly from the alcohol. She looked burning at Jerry and the Crystal Golems.
"Tell you what, Minerva."
Aurora's raspy voice carried a mischievous challenge. "I'll make a bet with you. In a moment, I will use Transfiguration to turn into you, and you into me."
A sly glint flashed in her violet eyes. "If Jerry can't tell us apart, then I win. You both have to drink my 'Burning Heart' until you drop!"
Her gaze returned to McGonagall, playful.
"If Jerry can tell, then you win. In that case, I, Aurora Sterling, will take all your students under my wing and give them a good future. Whether joining my direct warband or other departments in the Congress, I will give them the best treatment and the broadest prospects. What do you say?"
McGonagall's face showed a mix of anticipation, worry, and a trace of cunning. She looked at Aurora, then at Jerry, and finally nodded slowly.
This bet was the best opportunity for her students.
Jerry stood alone in the center of the backstage. Though small, holding the violin, his expression was focused and steady.
The Crystal Golems surrounded him, instruments reflecting faint light in the gloom. Their movements were fluid, precise, and full of vitality.
The bow danced lightly in his fingers, pulling out soothing, elegant movements that echoed through the banquet hall like flowing water. Every note carried a unique rhythm, full of soothing magic, making it impossible to detect the change in performers. The wizards at the ball didn't notice the change in the band; they continued to dance to the melodious music, immersed in the joy of Thanksgiving.
But just then, Jerry glanced at the floor, pupils contracting violently.
There, a slender figure was emerging from the ground in a bizarrely slow manner. First black hair, then exquisite shoulders, and finally, a charming face appeared—it was Vera!
She wore a fiery red evening gown that outlined her exquisite curves perfectly. The bright color was exceptionally eye-catching in the dim backstage.
Vera's eyes were locked dead on Jerry, filled with uncontrollable urgency and heat. After wriggling her body completely out of the ground, she lunged without hesitation.
Her hand, carrying undeniable strength, reached straight under Jerry's robe and grabbed his thick meat root.
The scorching heat made Jerry tense up, nearly missing a note.
"My little Jerry, I finally found you!"
Vera's voice was hoarse with excitement, like tempting poison, ringing right by his ear.
Red lips exhaled hot breath onto his erection.
Skillfully, Vera opened her cherry lips and took him in. A wet, hot slickness enveloped Jerry instantly. Her tongue tip teased the head flexibly, while her small hand rubbed the base vigorously. Her body bobbed, beginning to blow him while whispering intermittently in his ear: "You have to play well, my little Jerry, or else... you'll lose!"
Vera's voice was muffled, adding to the erotic temptation. Her moist, elastic mouth swallowed and spat his meat root continuously. Her warm tongue, like a slippery snake, licked back and forth over the tip, bringing bone-eroding pleasure.
Occasionally, she scraped gently with her teeth, triggering unbearable tremors.
Jerry's bow hand became unsteady, fingertips spasming slightly from the extreme pleasure.
However, he forced himself to endure the strange sensations, striving to maintain the flow of the music, not letting a single wrong note slip.
Jerry continued to play, suppressing his desire.
His cheeks were flushed red, sweat mixing with hair gel and alcohol sliding down his temples.
Vera's wet, hot mouth swallowed him repeatedly. Every deep suck felt like she wanted to inhale his very soul. The rhythmic sucking was like a potent aphrodisiac, boiling his blood.
However, a greater challenge lay ahead.
Just when Jerry felt his will reaching its limit, a strange touch came from the lower part of his shaft.
Another pair of soft, slender hands, with gentle strength, reached from behind Vera and accurately grasped the stalk moving in and out of Vera's mouth.
Not Vera. These hands were slightly rougher, bearing tiny scars from alchemy experiments.
Almost simultaneously, pressure came from above. Two huge soft mounds, carrying a rich feminine fragrance, pressed against the back of his head, squeezing his skull, almost suffocating him.
Jerry knew without looking—it was Amelia.
"Little bastard..." Amelia's voice was low and husky, carrying the magnetism of a mature woman, completely different from Vera's charm.
Her voice clung to Jerry's left ear, sliding across his lobe like a red-hot iron brand.
"You really... gave me a big surprise."
As she spoke, her fingers tightened, gently rubbing the base of his meat root. A numbing pleasure shot to his brain like electricity, nearly making him drop his bow.
Amelia's snowy peaks, fuller from the squeeze, buried Jerry's head deep. He could even smell her unique body scent mixed with a hint of alchemy potions, and a deeper scent of mature female desire emanating from the cleavage.
Her two giant breasts shook tremblingly with her slight body movements. Every ripple brought extreme tactile sensation, making Jerry almost drown in it.
Vera didn't stop. Feeling another hand grasp the lower part, the size in her mouth seemed to grow even thicker.
She moaned "Mmh... hmm...", like a satiated little beast.
Her tongue licked flexibly up and down Jerry's shaft, sometimes scraping gently with her teeth, bringing indescribable numbness.
Amelia inserted her fingers into his sac below, finger pads rubbing the sensitive skin gently, kneading punishingly yet carefully controlling the force so he wouldn't arch his back in pain.