The stone door of the Slytherin dungeon dormitory slid open soundlessly at the corner of the subterranean passage.
The air carried the unique damp cold of the lake bottom and a faint scent of herbal incense.
Jerry reached out and pressed a hidden latch on the doorframe; the stone wall slid back into place and sealed shut without a seam, completely cutting off the faint wind from the corridor outside from behind the heavy door.
A few dark green wall sconces burned within the room. By the bookshelf against the wall, several dark magic tomes, heavy as bricks, were stacked haphazardly on the desk; a faint trail of black smoke was currently rising from the parchment cover of one of them.
On a low stool beside the hardwood desk, a slender figure was curled up, hunched over the pile of books. The two soft black cat ears atop her head twitched lightly at the sound of the door, and the cat tail that had been drooping by her side instantly stood ramrod straight.
"Little pervert Master!"
Before Jerry could even step dry from the water droplets at his feet, a soft, yielding body threw itself at him with a rush of sweet, milky fragrance.
Catherine hadn't even clearly seen who else was at the door besides Jerry; her arms locked in a death grip around the back of Jerry's neck, her two long, rounded thighs instinctively clamping tight around his lower abdomen, hanging her entire self onto Jerry's frail body like a clingy kitten.
Her exquisite, pretty little face rubbed frantically into the crook of Jerry's neck; her pointed cat ears brushed past his chin, sending waves of tingling numbness. Her tail lashed joyfully behind her, slapping against the floorboards with crisp thwap-thwap sounds.
"You finally decided to come back! I've almost chewed these broken curse books to pieces! If you hadn't returned to the dormitory soon, I would have used a bloodline curse to track you down following the imprint on your crotch!"
"Get down first; what does it look like, hanging off me like this." Jerry gave her fleshy buttocks a slap; the force wasn't light, landing with a muffled thud.
Catherine gave a coquettish huff, clamping her legs even tighter instead, her lower abdomen pressing dead against Jerry's belt buckle. She tilted her head up slightly, her round cat pupils glistening with moisture; her lips were painted with pale pink lip gloss, and the breath she exhaled puffed hotly against Jerry's lips and teeth.
"I won't! Touch my hand; I recently combined the Qi-Spirit Tracing in my cat demon bloodline with the Corrosive Curse in dark magic. Right now, as long as I get a piece of dander or a drop of bodily fluid from the target, I can plant the curse directly into their bone marrow from dozens of miles away. Amazing, right? Praise me, quickly!"
As she spoke, she rubbed her slender, pale fingers against Jerry's chest, eagerly displaying the dark red veins faintly surfacing on her palm. The veins looked like a miniature cat paw print, flowing with incredibly bizarre corrosive magic power.
Just then, the purple-haired woman standing behind Jerry coughed lightly.
Yin Luo leaned diagonally against the lacquered wood doorframe, arms crossed over her chest. The silver curse-breaking dressing was still affixed to her right shoulder; her blood-red serpentine pupils emanated a chilling aura under the dark green wall sconces. Although her complexion was somewhat pale from her injuries, the oppressive aura of a late Nascent Soul grandmaster, accumulated over a thousand years—even leaking just a sliver—caused the temperature in the cramped Slytherin dormitory to plummet.
She looked at the cat-eared girl hanging off Jerry, a flash of something incredibly unnatural passing through her eyes.
This was a castle dormitory in the wizarding world, the space cramped, the green and silver Slytherin crest hanging on the wall, the air filled with unfamiliar, faint magic power and the sweet scent of a young girl. Back in the Myriad Demons Palace, who would dare to casually hang themselves upon Jerry right in front of her face? This place made her feel uncomfortable all over, like a venomous snake accustomed to churning the great rivers and seas being stuffed into an exquisite glass fishbowl.
"So this is the... cat demon bloodline upperclassman you spoke of?" Yin Luo's voice was a bit hoarse, her languid tone carrying a hint of veiled nitpicking. "Her bones are as soft as if she doesn't have any; her entire cultivation base has grown into her flesh."
Catherine was startled by the sudden voice.
The cat ears on her head abruptly shrank back and plastered themselves flat amidst her hair, and the fur on her tail instantly puffed out in a massive ring. She turned her head from Jerry's embrace, her round eyes staring wide open, looking the woman leaning against the doorframe up and down.
From that ostentatious purple hair, to the ancient veins faintly visible on her snow-white neck, and finally to those cold, dazzling blood-red serpentine pupils. The alarm in Catherine's subconscious instantly blared—this woman was extremely dangerous, far more dangerous than any frontline senior wizard or Auror she had ever seen.
However, after the tip of Catherine's cat nose twitched lightly twice, the wariness on her face suddenly froze.
"Wow..."
Not only did Catherine not shrink back in fear, but she also slid down from Jerry's body. Her feet landed so lightly they made no sound; she scuffed her toes on the rug and casually bounded right up to Yin Luo.
Completely ignoring the icy 'keep away' aura surrounding Yin Luo, she acted like a kitten brimming with curiosity, sticking her little head right in front of Yin Luo's chest and the crook of her neck, taking a sniff.
"You smell so good!"
Catherine's eyes sparkled; her two little hands unceremoniously grabbed the wide cuffs of Yin Luo's purple robe, nearly burying herself in Yin Luo's embrace.
"It's not that flowery, grassy perfume smell... it's a bit like ice and snow on the peak of a freezing mountain, mixed with fully dried perilla grass and the sweetness of an old medicine cauldron. Honored Big Sister, the scent on you smells ten thousand times better than those colorful perfumes the nobles wear! Did you grow up soaking in a medicine pool?"
Yin Luo had originally, secretly mobilized a sliver of the residual spiritual power in her meridians, intending to teach this cat girl—who didn't know the immensity of heaven and earth—a little lesson, to let her know that the majesty of an Elder of the Myriad Demons Palace was inviolable.
But faced with Catherine's utter lack of ulterior motives—purely thinking she smelled good and leaning in to rub against her—that tense, murderous intent caught hard in her throat.
Catherine even reached out her little hand, generously stroking the purple hair hanging in front of Yin Luo's chest, her soft cheeks rubbing gently twice against Yin Luo's uninjured left shoulder, her voice sickeningly sweet.
"Little pervert Master brought you back to Slytherin; from now on, you are one of our own in this dormitory! Big Sister, how do you maintain your hair so purple and shiny? Teach me, won't you?"
Yin Luo's body stiffened like a stone statue.
A thousand years of cultivation, revered and fought over by tens of thousands in the Xuantian Realm; when had she ever encountered a little brat this outrageously overly familiar? Those soft cat ears scraped along her jawline, bringing a wave of ticklishness. The corner of Yin Luo's mouth twitched; she cast a sideways glance at Jerry beside her—arms crossed, enjoying the show without a care—her eyes full of helpless defeat and dissonance.
"You... keep your hands to yourself." Yin Luo forcefully turned her face away, her voice sounding stern, but unable to muster a single ounce of genuine menace. "Rub against this Seat again, and this Seat will wring those two tails of yours off and steep them in wine."
"I only have one tail!" Catherine giggled, her hand smoothly sliding onto Yin Luo's slender waist, giving the outside of her thigh a pinch. "Wow, Big Sister, your legs are so long and firm, not like me, full of soft flesh. Little pervert Master must love stepping on these legs of yours the most, right?"
"What kind of nonsense are you spouting!" A thin layer of red crept onto Yin Luo's cheeks; she slapped away Catherine's wandering little hand, stepped over the pile of books on the floor, walked straight to the large four-poster bed in the center of the dormitory, and sat down.
Although her words were stern, her back was ramrod straight; it was clear she felt extremely unfamiliar and constrained in this private space full of the atmosphere of modern wizarding life.
Jerry casually tossed his cloak onto the desk, walked across the rug to the edge of the bed, and sat down beside Yin Luo. He smoothly pulled Yin Luo's left hand over, his fingertips pressing against her cool pulse, confirming her internal meridians hadn't deteriorated from the recent movement.
"Alright, stop teasing her." Jerry turned his head and jutted his chin at Catherine, who was following them over like a puppy. "Catherine, go pour two cups of warm Calming Draught."
"Understood, little pervert Master." Catherine playfully stuck out her tongue, shaking her plump bottom as she ran toward the nearby coffee table. That black cat tail drew an enticing arc in the air.
Yin Luo leaned against the carved headboard; a large section of her long, smooth, snow-white legs was exposed from the slit of her purple robe. She reached up and pressed the still-seeping dressing on her right shoulder, her blood-red serpentine pupils narrowing slightly as she stared fixedly at Jerry.
"The situation on the front lines is even worse than I imagined."
Yin Luo got straight to the point, her tone restoring the calm and venom of a Myriad Demons Palace Elder.
"That one-eyed freak who came today; although you destroyed his windpipe and his eye, the magic potions he took are no small sum. I have read ancient texts of the Xuantian Realm in the Myriad Demons Palace; the magic of wizards is guided entirely by divine intent and emotion, completely lacking the methods of Cultivators who inhale and exhale the spiritual Qi of heaven and earth to nourish their sea of consciousness. After high-intensity slaughter, a wizard's divine soul is most prone to collapse and frenzy. They stole that batch of psychiatric potions to sustain the lives of those low-level Aurors on the front lines whose divine souls are already losing control under the spiritual shock of Cultivators."
Jerry handed her a cup of steaming liquid; Yin Luo took a sip, frowned, but still swallowed it down.
"Those old fogeys of the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion and the Qingming Realm are fighting a war of attrition." Yin Luo continued, her fingers tapping lightly on the blanket, producing a muffled rhythm. "The Xuantian Realm has deep foundations; Nascent Soul Cultivators can afford to burn away centuries of time, and they have as many Golden Core disciples as they want. But what about your wizarding world? There are only a handful of senior wizards capable of fighting. Once the supply of psychiatric support potions to the front lines is cut off, the mental defenses of the Aurors will completely collapse within three months. The fact that the one-eyed freak was willing to take a hit of your dark magic just to empty the potion storage indicates the front lines are already on the brink of running out of medicine."
Catherine walked over carrying a potion cup and naturally squatted between Jerry's legs, her two little hands resting on Jerry's thighs, her face turned up, listening with keen interest.
"Not only that." Jerry took over the conversation, his eyes darkening. "The Heavenly Secrets Pavilion has mastered the methods of wand creation and combination. Those twenty-eight chained wands are just the beginning. If they are allowed to completely fuse the interlocking killing arrays of the Cultivation world with the instant-cast spells of wizards, the front line positions won't be able to hold for even a single day."
"Therefore, we cannot meet them head-on." Yin Luo leaned diagonally against the pillow, her long legs crossed, displaying astonishing curves. "That old man of yours, Dumbledore, is playing the stalling game. But he cannot afford to stall. To break this stalemate, we cannot rely on fighting to the death with the Qingming Realm people on the front lines; we must bleed the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion from the inside. You have already learned the rudiments of the demonic techniques of the Jiuyou Abyss; those are wicked paths specifically designed to counter the divine intent of the Orthodox Cultivation paths. Find an opportunity, and this Seat will take you to slaughter your way back to the Xuantian Realm and upend the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion's spiritual vein foundations."
She spoke of slaughter with decisive resolution, her eyes revealing a chilling ruthlessness.
However, Catherine, squatting between Jerry's legs, had barely listened to any of it. Her attention had long since shifted from the heavy topic of war to the high bulge at Jerry's crotch.
Being this close, Catherine could clearly smell the strong masculine scent radiating from Jerry, mixed with the faint residual odor of heather and aristocratic perfume from his recent copulation with Narcissa at St. Mungo's.
The estrus instinct within her cat demon bloodline was instantly and completely ignited by this stimulating scent.
"Little pervert Master..."
Catherine's breathing became somewhat rapid, her voice soft enough to drip water. Her two little hands groped their way up Jerry's thighs; through the thin fabric of his trousers, her fingertips accurately grasped that massive object which was already semi-erect.
Jerry looked down at her, raising an eyebrow. "We're discussing important business; don't move around."
"The important business is finished!" Catherine whined coquettishly; her little mouth relentlessly pressed against Jerry's knee, sucking hard through the fabric. She reached out and undid Jerry's belt, her movements outrageously practiced. "You were out for so long, and you're covered in the scent of other women. You definitely snuck around with some bad woman out there just now, didn't you? This kitty needs to do a physical examination!"
Before she even finished speaking, she had already yanked Jerry's pants down to the roots of his thighs.
Although she had already shared intimate moments with Jerry many times and knew full well the terrifying power of this monster, looking at this colossal object suddenly laid bare before her eyes in the cramped, brightly lit Slytherin dormitory, she still felt her heart skip a beat, her right leg subconsciously shrinking back into the covers.
"Wow... it got bigger again..."
Catherine let out a sigh of satisfaction, her eyes completely filled with the radiance of infatuation. She laid down without hesitation, opened her little mouth, and attempted to swallow the gleaming coronal head.
But the meat pillar was simply too thick.
Even stretching her delicate lips to their limit, Catherine could only barely take half of the massive head inside. She struggled to contract her throat; the soft tip of her tongue frantically licked and circled the sensitive tip, the sound of her saliva exceptionally clear in the quiet dormitory.
Slurp... slurp...
Loud wet sounds instantly shattered the previously serious atmosphere.
Catherine bobbed her head up and down vigorously; her little mouth acted like a powerful suction cup, continuously sucking the pre-cum from the crevices of the coronal head. Because her mouth was stuffed too full, massive amounts of bodily fluids and saliva could not be swallowed; they continuously slid down from the corners of her mouth and chin, dripping onto Jerry's inner thighs, dragging out long, silver-white threads.
"Hah-mm... Little pervert Master's place here... is so hot..."
Catherine moaned incoherently; her little hands slid downward, grasping the two heavy sacs below, kneading and massaging them vigorously. Her cat ears flattened backward frequently due to the pleasure, and her tail wrapped dead tight around Jerry's left calf, trembling non-stop.
Yin Luo sat at the head of the bed, looking down at this scene from her high vantage point.
In the Xuantian Realm, the hierarchy between mortals and Cultivators was strict; when had she ever seen a scene so utterly debauched, yet carrying a touch of innocent wantonness? Seeing Catherine completely reduced to a slave of her desires made Yin Luo swallow hard, a surge of inexplicable thirst rising in her throat.
"What are you looking at, Elder Blood Butterfly?"
Leaning against the pillow, Jerry pressed one hand against Catherine's small head, accelerating the rise and fall of her head, while shooting a sideways glance at Yin Luo, a wicked grin hanging on his lips.
"Aren't you the high and mighty Elder of the Myriad Demons Palace? Why are your eyes going straight just watching a maidservant give a blowjob?"
"Insolent words!" Yin Luo glared at him fiercely. She extended her slender, long leg, her bare toes poking straight against Jerry's chest, pinching his shirt button between her toes. "What great storms has this Seat not witnessed? Mere obscene words and erotic displays can shake this Seat's mind?"
Although her words were tough, her snow-white thighs involuntarily clamped tighter, and faint traces of wetness seeped from her robe.
By this time, Catherine could no longer bear the torment of the blowjob. Every time that thick object hit the back of her throat, it brought wave after wave of despairing fullness. she pulled her little mouth off, drawing out an incredibly loud popping sound.
Pop!
"I can't... it's too big, I can't get full using my mouth..."
Catherine panted incoherently, lifting her leg and stepping directly over Jerry's body. She was wearing a dark green pleated short skirt today, with only a thin pair of black lace panties underneath. By now, the panties were already soaked through with love juices, sticking clammily to her labia.
She reached out and yanked the panties to the side, gripping Jerry's thick meat pillar with both hands, aligning the wet, dripping crevice with the purplish-red coronal head.
"It's going in..."
Biting her lower lip, Catherine used her waist strength, slowly sinking downward.
The massive coronal head pushed open the tight, tender flesh, instantly squeezing into the unbelievably narrow depths of the flower path.
"Ah-ha——!"
Catherine arched her neck, letting out an extremely high-pitched scream. The cat ears atop her head stood completely straight up.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
Like a maddened kitten, Catherine rode violently up and down on Jerry.
Her plump, rounded buttocks smashed ruthlessly against Jerry's lower abdomen time and time again; her long legs tightly clamped Jerry's waist, rocking back and forth frantically. Due to the massive difference in their physiques—Jerry was thin and frail, while Catherine was a voluptuous cat girl—the visual impact of this "small horse pulling a big cart" made Yin Luo, watching from the sidelines, hold her breath.
Catherine grabbed Jerry's hair haphazardly, incoherent moans escaping her lips.
Jerry supported Catherine's plump buttocks with both hands, thrusting violently upward.
Explosive power erupted from his frail body; every upward thrust seemed as if it wanted to impale Catherine completely.
Under dozens of consecutive, storm-like impacts, Catherine's eyes completely lost focus.
The spasms of climax made her body shake like a sieve; her cat tail wrapped around Jerry, refusing to let go.
Watching Catherine's wanton display of climaxing and squirting, Jerry turned his head, looking at Yin Luo leaning against the headboard, her cheeks flushed red.
He reached out his left hand; his long, nimble fingers slid directly in through the slit of Yin Luo's purple robe, touching her flower crevice which was already wet beyond recognition.
"Elder, your crevice is leaking water; what are you still pretending to be pure for?"
Touched by him, Yin Luo's delicate body shuddered; she subconsciously tried to close her thighs, only to have Jerry forcefully wedge them open with his knee. Jerry's fingers gave a heavy twist against her hot, wet, sensitive clitoris; Yin Luo instantly sucked in a sharp breath, her lips biting tightly into the pillow, a layer of hazy moisture welling up in her serpentine pupils.
"You... bastard..." Yin Luo's voice trembled; under the caress of Jerry's fingers, her severely injured body completely lost its ability to resist.
With one hand, Jerry shoved Catherine—exhausted after her climax—onto the other side of the bed. Using the momentum, he rolled over, pressing the tall, beautiful Elder of the Myriad Demons Palace beneath him.
The frail body of the young boy lay atop the voluptuous, full body of the mature woman. The massive meat pillar, carrying the residual heat from inside Catherine and scalding love juices, aimed ruthlessly at Yin Luo's long-dry, yet now-overflowing, sensitive flower opening.
Plop!
Without the slightest hesitation, Jerry's waist sank abruptly, submerging that massive object, coated in bodily fluids, entirely into Yin Luo's absolute depths!
"Mmh——ha!"
Yin Luo's entire body arched violently upward; her purple hair exploded across the pillow, her snow-white thighs wrapping dead tight around Jerry's waist. The destiny and desire intertwining two worlds completely lost control and collapsed in this moment within the subterranean Slytherin dormitory.
The wooden door of the Hogsmeade safe house rattled gently in the wind.
The firewood in the hearth crackled; sparks flew out, landing on the marble hearthstone, instantly extinguishing into tiny pinches of ash.
Sebastian stood in front of the long table, pressing the urgent proof sheet, just delivered from the Daily Prophet editorial office, flat against the tabletop. His finger pressed against the blank space on the front page, his fingertip pulling forcefully backward, stretching the entire piece of blotting paper taut.
"We can't beat him, we can't kill him, and we can't catch him legally." Sebastian's tone was as flat as could be, as if reading an inconsequential bill. "Then we change the game."
Moody sat in a rough-hewn wooden high-backed chair nearby; the brass axle of his right leg let out a hard click. He pinched a short, small knife in his hand, forcefully slicing along the grain of a piece of dried beef jerky. The meat was sliced off and fell into a wooden plate, emitting a dry, scraping sound.
"Change to what game?" Moody lifted his intact eye, his expression gloomy. "You expect to use your lips to persuade that kid back to the front lines to die?"
"No, we praise him." Sebastian pressed both hands against the edge of the table, leaning forward. "We praise Jerry until he becomes the greatest hero the wizarding world has seen in the past century. Younger than Dumbledore, braver than all the frontline commanders-in-chief; he is the savior who single-handedly penetrated the heart of the Cultivation world, brought back crucial intelligence, and turned the tide at St. Mungo's."
Standing in the corner, Margaret Brown slapped her thigh. Her short, pudgy body shook violently with the motion, the black velvet hat atop her head nearly falling off.
"Praise him to death!" Margaret's voice grew shrill, her two little hands clutching her hem in a death grip. "As long as the public recognizes him as the savior, he has to bear everything a savior is supposed to bear! The casualties on the front line are on him; the inflation of prices is on him. Every time the Cultivators attack, the masses will ask—where is our hero? Why isn't he on the front lines taking the hit?"
Sebastian reached out and tapped the headline position on the proof sheet on the table.
"And while we're at it, we'll build the highest step for his pedestal." Sebastian turned his head to look into the shadows. "Rita, is your Quick-Quotes Quill ready?"
A figure wearing a bright green dress darted out from behind the patent-leather sofa against the wall. Rita Skeeter shimmied her waist and squeezed up to the table; her heavily made-up face was plastered with excitement and greed. She pulled a slender, emerald-green Quick-Quotes Quill from her bosom, her lips stretching upward into an exaggerated arc.
"I can already picture the headline, Mr. Flint." Rita waved the quill vigorously in the air twice. "The Returning Light of Dawn: How a Seventeen-Year-Old Boy Single-Handedly Resisted the Calamity of the East. I will fill the first page with how he fought bloody battles in the rifts; on the second page, write about how many hidden injuries he suffered to protect the women and children of the wizarding world; and on the third page... directly call upon the entire populace to donate money to him, and even demand the Ministry of Magic make an exception and award him the Order of the Goblet for Life!"
Moody stabbed the carving knife in his hand onto the table; the tip of the blade sank deep into the wood.
"Roasting him on a spit." Moody spat out the meat dregs in his mouth, the scar on his face twitching. "As long as the common folk think he is a god, he cannot make a mistake. The moment he dares to take half a step back, dares to say the word 'no,' the very people praising him to the heavens today will drown him in the most vicious spit tomorrow."
"And not just public opinion." Sebastian pulled a thick roll of lists from the inner pocket of his trench coat and slammed it onto the table. "We will establish the 'Jerry the Savior Support Society' and send a joint petition from the families of all the sacrificed Aurors on the front lines directly to Hogwarts. Let those weeping widows and orphans surround the school gates, begging their 'hero' to take command and march to war once again. I want to see if he can still sit quietly in the Slytherin dormitory and sleep with his women."
The few people in the room exchanged glances, and the air was instantly filled with a hair-raising chorus of low chuckles.
...
The next morning, the Great Hall of Hogwarts.
A flock of owls poured in from the high, vaulted vents like a hazy cloud. Hundreds upon thousands of letters and thickened editions of the Daily Prophet rained down onto the four long tables.
At the Slytherin long table, Jerry held a glass of hot milk in one hand and a fork in the other, cutting the sausage on his plate into small pieces.
Catherine sat plastered against him on his left side on the bench; her cat ears lay lazily amidst her hair, her two little hands gleefully tearing open pink envelopes radiating faint perfumes one by one.
"Little pervert! This is the nineteenth one!" Catherine leaned close to Jerry's ear; her tail tapped a light beat against Jerry's thigh. "This one was written by a Gryffindor third-year girl; she says she wants to form a fan club for you, and even wants to march to the Ministry of Magic building to petition for a Special Pardon Medal for you!"
Jerry didn't even bat an eyelid; he speared a piece of sausage, popped it into his mouth, chewed a few times, and swallowed.
Leaning against the long table opposite him, wearing a voluminous black robe, Yin Luo used two fingers to pinch a newly dropped copy of the Daily Prophet. The injury on her right shoulder hadn't completely healed yet, making her movements appear somewhat stiff, but as those blood-red serpentine pupils swept over the moving photograph occupying a full half of the front page, the corners of her mouth curled into an extremely mocking cold sneer.
The photograph showed Jerry standing in the center of the Alliance Summit venue; the background had been deliberately rendered by magic into an overwhelming display of fire and ruins. The headline beneath the photo was printed in large, gold-stamped letters—The Backbone of the Wizarding World: The Lone Brave Jerry's War to Break the Stalemate in the Cultivation World.
"The tethers of fame and the chains of wealth." Yin Luo tossed the newspaper onto the table; the newspaper knocked over an adjacent jam jar, and red jam sluggishly oozed down over Jerry's face on the paper. "Tricks the Myriad Demons Palace got bored of playing two hundred years ago. If you can't kill the head of the sect, you crown him with the empty title of 'Number One Orthodox Path in the World,' forcing him to go risk his life against demonic beasts. When this bunch of robe-wearing wizards get dirty, they're exactly the same as the Orthodox famous sects of the Xuantian Realm."
"They're praising me pretty high." Jerry took a handkerchief to wipe the corners of his mouth, reaching out to pinch Catherine's soft cat ears. "The newspaper says I single-handedly repelled forty-eight Nascent Soul cultivators and casually ripped apart three spatial rifts. If they keep writing like this, tomorrow the newspaper will have me drinking the Boundary River of the Cultivation world dry with my own hands."
"Isn't that good?" Catherine rested her little head on Jerry's shoulder; her little hands unceremoniously grabbed Jerry's hem and slipped down. "Right now, the way all the girls in school look at you is like they're looking at a living idol. Just now when we entered the Great Hall, quite a few Hufflepuff underclassmen were staring at your crotch, probably guessing if our hero is even more majestic down there than an ordinary person."
"Stop gossiping." Jerry swatted her hand away and stood up.
Before he could even take two steps, the main doors of the Great Hall were suddenly pushed open with extreme heaviness.
A flurry of sharp high heels striking the floor sounded exceptionally jarring in the quiet hall. Deputy Head of the Department of War Mobilization, Margaret Brown, led a full twelve Aurors in dress robes, strutting in with their heads held high. Behind her followed Rita Skeeter holding a camera, as well as several minor Ministry officials with their arms full of flowers and pennants.
The students in the Great Hall fell instantly silent; countless pairs of eyes uniformly turned toward the boy standing beside the Slytherin long table.
Margaret stopped five paces away from Jerry. She pulled a roll of parchment tied with a golden ribbon from her robes, cleared her throat, and her magically amplified voice instantly echoed throughout the entire hall.
"Student Jerry!"
Margaret's face scrunched up like a blooming flower, her eyes shining; her two fleshy palms clapped vigorously in front of her chest.
"In light of your outstanding contributions on the front lines and in the Cultivation world, and in light of the fact that you single-handedly saved the lives of countless wizards, the Ministry of Magic's Department of War Mobilization, in conjunction with the Wizengamot, officially decides to award you the title of 'Supreme Wartime Hero'!"
She waved behind her, and an official immediately stepped forward holding a tray lined with red satin. On the tray rested a medal forged of pure gold, engraved with a wand piercing through flames.
The camera in Rita Skeeter's hands instantly let out a loud click, and thick white smoke rose in the center of the hall.
"Please, everyone, cheer for our savior!" Margaret waved her hands, shouting with fervent emotion. "Student Jerry is not only the pride of Hogwarts, but also the shield of the entire wizarding world! Starting today, the Ministry of Magic will establish a Frontline Assault Legion named after Student Jerry, with Student Jerry himself holding the nominal title of Commander-in-Chief!"
The students below the stage began to murmur amongst themselves; a few younger children even started clapping along.
This move was extremely vicious.
A nominal Commander-in-Chief, yet given no actual military authority. Once the Frontline Assault Legion suffered a defeat, all the blame and scapegoating would instantly be pinned on the head of this "Commander-in-Chief," Jerry.
Jerry stood where he was; his frail figure appeared somewhat slight under the massive golden halo and the camera's flashes. His hands were stuffed in his pockets; the corners of his mouth slowly curled into a hair-raising smile.
Sitting not far away, Yin Luo raised an eyebrow; her hand resting beneath the table flicked lightly.
"Deputy Head Margaret." Jerry spoke; his voice wasn't loud, but riding the residue of magic, it carried clearly into everyone's ears. He took a step forward, directly bypassing the gold medal Margaret was offering.
"Since I am a Wartime Hero, and the Commander-in-Chief of the Assault Legion. Then, according to Article 3, Clause 2 of the Ministry of Magic's Wartime Regulations, the Commander-in-Chief possesses the highest priority authority to directly allocate all frontline strategic materials and troop strength, correct?"
Margaret's smile instantly froze on her face; her clapping motion stalled.
"This... this is an honorary title—"
"Honorary title?" Jerry closed the distance to Margaret in a single stride. He wasn't much taller than Margaret, but the icy light emanating from those black eyes forced Margaret to subconsciously take a half-step back.
Jerry reached out, directly picking up that gold medal from the tray, casually weighing it on his fingertips, producing a faint clinking of metal.
"Since I am a hero, then I order." Jerry turned around, facing the students of the entire hall and the reporters in the back; his voice suddenly rose in pitch. "The Department of War Mobilization is to immediately allocate fifty thousand Galleons for the Frontline Orphans Fund. Furthermore, since I am the Commander-in-Chief, I announce that the half a potion storage's worth of psychiatric potions the Order of the Phoenix just 'emergency requisitioned' from St. Mungo's shall all be publicly distributed into the hands of every Auror participating in the war."
Rita Skeeter's Quick-Quotes Quill trembled frantically in the air, scritch-scratching as it recorded every single word of Jerry's.
Margaret's face instantly turned the color of pig liver. She never expected that Jerry not only wasn't dazzled by the empty titles, but actually climbed right up the pole they handed him, using the titles of "Hero" and "Commander-in-Chief" to bite the Ministry of Magic and the Order of the Phoenix right back!
"Student Jerry! Those magic potions are frontline strategic reserves—"
"I am the Commander-in-Chief. The frontline strategic reserves aren't for me to use; are they meant to be saved for the Order of the Phoenix to drink as tea in their underground safe houses?" A mocking smile hung on Jerry's lips; he reached out and heavily patted the badge on Margaret's chest. "Or is it that the Department of War Mobilization praising me as this hero only wants me to go die, but can't even bear to give a single bottle of magic potion to the soldiers on the front line?"
The students in the Great Hall instantly erupted in an uproar. A few children who had originally been somewhat blindly following along immediately changed their expressions; the looks they shot Margaret were laced with suspicion.
Margaret gritted her teeth, her mouth open, but unable to utter a single word; dense cold sweat seeped out on her forehead.
"Also." Jerry clapped the dust off his hands, turning and walking toward the Slytherin long table.
He walked to Yin Luo's side, reaching out and wrapping an arm around Yin Luo's slender yet incredibly firm waist. Yin Luo submissively leaned against him, her purple hair scattered; those blood-red serpentine pupils swept coldly over all the Aurors in the room.
"This is Elder Blood Butterfly of the Myriad Demons Palace from the Xuantian Realm. She is also my ally who fought shoulder-to-shoulder with me to repel the enemy." Jerry surveyed the room, his tone as calm as if announcing what was for breakfast today. "Since I am a hero, my ally is naturally a distinguished guest of the wizarding world. If I discover that the Department of War Mobilization, or certain underground organizations styling themselves as righteous, dare to harbor designs upon my ally..."
Jerry paused, his left hand clenching lightly in mid-air.
A streak of pitch-black demonic Qi from the Jiuyou Abyss instantly exploded between his fingers, shattering an empty wooden chair nearby into powder! The wood splinters rained down around the Aurors' feet.
"I will personally visit their offices, and have a good chat with them about how to be a hero."
The entire hall was deathly silent.
Rita Skeeter's camera exploded with another puff of white smoke, thoroughly immortalizing the image of Jerry, arm around the purple-haired, snake-eyed woman, stepping on shattered wood splinters.
Margaret's face was ashen, her two fat hands trembling; not even daring to clean up the wood splinters on the floor, she led the Auror squad in a disgraceful retreat out of the Great Hall.
In the corner of the side hall corridor outside the main doors of the Great Hall, a wooden door creaked open and swiftly closed.
Rita Skeeter reached back and firmly slid the deadbolt into place, raising her hand to cast a silent Muffliato and Anti-Eavesdropping charm through the door crack. She casually stuffed that slender green Quick-Quotes Quill into the deep cleavage of her chest, then turned around, leaning her back heavily against the door panel, crossing her long legs. With her arms folded over her chest, she stared with sparkling eyes at Jerry, who had followed her in.
"Was this reporter's intel accurate or not?"
Rita twisted her waist; the bright green dress, so tight it was nearly bursting, traced voluptuous, enticing curves with her movements. She took two steps forward, her stiletto heels clicking crisply against the flagstones, stopping right in front of Jerry.
"If I hadn't pretended to go write a draft for that fat cow Margaret in the middle of the night last night, and coaxed all the details of the speeches and bills they prepared out of her, would you have been able to shut her up so thoroughly in the Great Hall today that she couldn't even squeeze out a fart?"
"Nice acting. You worked that quill pretty hard."
Jerry leaned against an empty wooden rack nearby, both hands stuffed in his pockets, his gaze sliding down Rita's plunging neckline. He had a slight build; standing up straight, he only reached Rita's eyebrows, but the coldness and sense of control exuding from his demeanor made Rita, this poisonous flower of the press who was accustomed to seducing people, feel a tickle in the core of her heart.
"Just saying 'nice acting' won't cut it." Rita gave a coquettish huff, extending a finger painted with bright red nail polish and pressing it directly against Jerry's chest, dragging it forcefully downward, all the way to Jerry's belt buckle. "I risked being hunted down by the Order of the Phoenix and the Department of War Mobilization to act as your inside man, uprooting their plan to praise you to death and throwing it out under the blazing sun. For this transaction, what kind of payment do you plan on giving this reporter?"
"What payment do you want?" Jerry didn't dodge, allowing her finger to hook and tease at his waist.
"What do you think? Little hero."
Rita's lips curled upward into a wanton arc. She pressed both hands onto Jerry's shoulders, pushing down forcefully; simultaneously, her own knees gave way, and she knelt directly onto the hard flagstone floor.
Her curly blonde hair cascaded between Jerry's legs; her two hands deftly grabbed Jerry's belt buckle, releasing the lock with a click. The sound of the zipper sliding down was exceptionally clear in the quiet side hall.
The instant that massive object hidden within his underwear sprang out as the zipper undid, Rita's breathing noticeably halted for a second.
Even though it wasn't her first time seeing it with her own eyes, every time this terrifyingly thick meat pillar was exposed to the air, it still delivered an immense visual impact. The purplish-red coronal head was swollen hard and shiny from engorgement; a small drop of clear, transparent pre-cum was currently seeping from the crevice, hanging precariously from the tip.
"Truly an unreasonable little monster..."
Rita muttered in a low voice; her two hands, painted with red nail polish, slowly gripped the thick shaft. Her palms couldn't be considered small, yet with both hands overlapping to grip it, she could only barely envelop two-thirds of this massive object.
She opened her large mouth, painted with bright red lipstick, and attempted to take the topmost coronal head inside.
Slurp.
A clear, loud, wet sound echoed in the side hall.
Jerry's meat pillar was simply too thick. Rita opened her small mouth to its absolute limit, the corners of her mouth stretched tight and taut, yet she could only barely take most of the massive head inside. The tip of her tongue nimbly thrust and circled against the top; saliva secreted endlessly from beneath her tongue, enveloping the thick, hard head of meat.
The wet sounds grew louder.
Squish... smack...
Rita's eyes rolled up to look at Jerry; her hands rubbed vigorously against the heavy sacs below. Because her mouth was stuffed too full, the saliva she couldn't swallow slid down from the corners of her mouth, sticking to the flagstones on the floor, dragging out long silver-white threads.
Jerry looked down, reaching out and grabbing Rita's curly blonde hair; his fingers tightened, pressing down forcefully on her head.
"Eat deeper."
Rita let out an incoherent whimper; her throat contracted violently, forced by the violent intrusion of the thick tip. That thick, hard object thrust directly to the entrance of her esophagus, bringing waves of intense suffocation and nausea. But this intense feeling of being conquered caused her inner thighs to quickly grow wet.
She vigorously bobbed her head up and down; her lips tightly enveloped the edges of the meat pillar, pulling back and forth along it. Every single withdrawal dragged out a large swath of stringy white foam and transparent bodily fluids, radiating a strong, primal masculine scent in the air.
Pop!
Rita yanked her small mouth off, bringing out an incredibly loud, piercing popping sound.
Massive amounts of saliva dripped down from her chin, wetting the collar of her bright green dress. She panted heavily, her cheeks flushed with a scalding red; bracing her hands against Jerry's thighs, she stood up.
"I can't... my mouth is going to be stretched open by you..."
As Rita panted coquettishly, she turned around and yanked that tight green dress violently up to her waist.
The hem of her skirt bunched at her waist, revealing a pair of plump thighs clad in thin black pantyhose. The panties at her crotch had long since been soaked through by love juices, radiating an enticing, wet heat. Rita pressed both hands against the empty wooden rack nearby, leaned forward, and arched her long, luscious buttocks high into the air, presenting her back to Jerry.
"Come inside and take a look, little hero. See just how wet your inside man got down there trying to cooperate with you."
Jerry reached out and slapped her plump buttocks.
Smack!
The crisp slap echoed in the side hall, jiggling violently. Using the momentum, Jerry pulled that thin piece of fabric to the side, revealing the already-overflowing, wet crevice inside.
"Catch."
Jerry's waist thrust violently forward.
"Ah-ha——!"
Rita arched her neck, letting out an incredibly wanton, high-pitched scream. Her two hands gripped the edges of the wooden rack in a death grip, her nails almost gouging into the cracks of the wood.
Smack!
Jerry's lower abdomen collided heavily with her plump pubic bone.
The frail body colliding with the plump, mature woman's flesh formed a highly tension-filled contrast. Without any hesitation, Jerry firmly gripped Rita's rounded waist and began to thrust.
Smack-smack-smack-smack!
The dense sound of impact instantly resounded throughout the side hall.
"Slower... bad thing... I'm going to be smashed to pieces by you..."
Rita twisted her waist to meet him, her voice entirely filled with irrepressible desire. Her feet, wearing high heels, stomped continuously on the ground; her entire body swung violently back and forth with the frequency of Jerry's impacts.
"The payment hasn't been settled yet." Jerry sneered in her ear; his hands pressed forcefully against her waist, yanking her fiercely against himself. "Weren't you quite happy clapping along in the Great Hall just now?"
"Wasn't that to... to cooperate with your act!"
Feeling the incredibly intense strangling force inside, Jerry's eyes darkened.
He didn't slow down; instead, he elevated the frequency to the absolute limit.
"Filling you all the way up!"
"Mmh!"
Rita convulsed violently all over; her entire body collapsed limply onto the wooden rack, shaking like a sieve from head to toe. Massive amounts of mixed fluids could no longer cling to the crevice where the two connected; they flowed down the roots of her long thighs with a splash, dripping onto the floor.
Only the incredibly loud panting and the dripping sounds of bodily fluids remained in the side hall.
Ploosh!
With the obstruction gone, massive amounts of cloudy fluid surged out of the small hole all at once, splashing onto Rita's boots.
Rita turned around weakly, sliding down the wooden rack to sit on the floor. Her bright green dress had been completely rumpled out of shape; her blonde hair stuck messily to her sweat-drenched cheeks. She reached out, grabbed the green Quick-Quotes Quill that had fallen to the side, and handed it to Jerry, smiling like a fox that had eaten its fill.
"Little hero... the headline for tonight's special edition... I've already thought of it..."
Looking down at her from a high vantage point, Jerry reached out, took the quill, and patted her face.
"Write it beautifully, Rita."