"Jerry! Jerry! We're back, open up!"
It was Draco Malfoy's voice, sounding uncharacteristically winded, stripped of its usual aristocratic grace.
Jerry, who had just finished a shower and changed into a silk robe, yawned and walked toward the door, feigning the look of someone who had just woken up from a nap.
The scene outside was a bit unexpected.
Draco's platinum hair was messy, plastered to his forehead with beads of sweat, and he was impatiently barking orders at his two lackeys.
Crabbe and Goyle looked even worse. The two were struggling to carry a massive, heavy wooden crate between them. Their faces were flushed a deep crimson, veins bulging in their necks, every step looking like an agonizing effort.
The chest looked ancient, its corners reinforced with tarnished brass and etched with faint, blurring runes. Jerry could clearly sense the magical fluctuations of an Undetectable Extension Charm, yet its external volume hadn't been reduced much, and the sheer, crushing weight seemed entirely unaffected by magic.
"Hurry up, you two idiots! Get it inside!" Malfoy snapped as the door opened.
Crabbe and Goyle grunted, heaving the chest over the threshold. When a corner of the box slammed onto the stone floor of the dormitory, it let out a heavy, dull thud that seemed to vibrate through the entire room.
They finally dropped the chest in the center of the room, doubled over and gasping for air, unable to stand straight.
"Fine, you can get lost now!" Malfoy waved them off dismissively, slamming the door behind them. "Useless... so slow just to move one box."
Complaining, he drew his wand and performed a quick grooming spell to tidy his robes and hair, trying to regain his noble composure. Once satisfied, he looked at Jerry with a smug, expectant look on his face.
Malfoy didn't open the chest immediately. Instead, he folded his arms and struck a pose, clearly savoring the moment. He gestured toward the massive container. "Guess what's inside?"
Jerry found the display amusing but kept his expression neutral. He replied in a flat, direct tone, "The bets?"
The directness of the answer caught Malfoy off guard, killing his prepared suspense. He blinked, but then his smirk returned, wider than before.
"Of course it's the bets!" he declared loudly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "But guess how much is in here!"
Jerry didn't answer. He walked forward, circling the chest once. He leaned down, gripped the brass handles on the sides, took a deep breath, and heaved upward.
The chest didn't budge. It felt as though it were rooted into the earth itself.
Jerry arched an eyebrow. He hadn't expected it to be that heavy. Refusing to accept defeat, he strained again, the muscles in his arms rippling under his skin. The chest only wobbled slightly, not even clearing the floor by a fraction.
"What? Can't lift it?" Malfoy laughed from the sidelines, enjoying the schadenfreude.
Jerry ignored him. He stood up and brushed a palm over his own forearms. A faint, nearly invisible magical glow coated his limbs. He reached down again, and this time, when he pulled, the impossibly heavy chest finally left the ground, albeit shakily.
The moment it cleared the floor, a massive gravitational pull yanked at his arms. Jerry had to drop into a wide stance to keep from being toppled. He held it for only a few seconds before dropping it with a heavy thud.
Jerry turned to Malfoy, his expression becoming strange. "One hundred thousand?"
Malfoy froze for a second, then burst into a loud, uninhibited laugh that echoed through the dungeon dorm.
"One hundred thousand? Hahaha! Jerry, is that all the imagination you have?"
Jerry fell silent. Aside from the intuition that something was off, the settlement for his Urgent Mission finally arrived in his mind.
It seemed Cressida had been completely hooked.
[Urgent Mission: Hunter of the Prophet — Settling...]
[Task 1: Completely shake off Cressida's Divination tracking and nullify her magic.] [Status: Completed.] [Method: Used a third party (Fiona Gaunt) as a medium to transfer the causal link of the Divination spell. The medium actively accepted and validated the behavior, causing the tracking lock to fail.] [Evaluation: Excellent. Cleverly utilized interpersonal relationships and psychological weaknesses to achieve the goal with minimal magical consumption.]
[Task 2: Make Cressida Brunstone permanently abandon the investigation.] [Status: Completed.] [Method: Leveraged the target's obsession with the medium, transforming the 'Theft Incident' into a 'Signal of Love.' The target now views the incident as a private romantic secret and will no longer investigate publicly or privately.] [Evaluation: Perfect. Not only completed the task but established a reverse psychological advantage and a foundation for control over the target.]
[Overall Mission Rating: S+] [Generating rewards based on rating...] [Reward Issued!] [Congratulations! You have obtained a Rare Wizard Bloodline: Eye of Slaanesh (Primary Level)]
[Bloodline Description: Your eyes have been blessed by the chaotic power of desire. When activated, your gaze will have a powerful charm effect on sentient beings, making them more likely to believe your words, follow your commands, and feel a physiological attraction to you. This bloodline grows as the host masters and utilizes desire.]
[Additional Effect: Your mana core has preliminarily merged with this bloodline. You will find it easier to master and cast spells related to Mind Control, Charm, and Illusion.]
"I crave your flesh, your soul, your everything."
A flash of pale purple light surged into Jerry's eyes. An indescribable sensation—a mix of faint stinging and extreme pleasure—erupted from the depths of his eyeballs, as if something was waking up and taking root in his optic nerves.
Jerry blinked instinctively. The world looked no different, but when he looked back at the still-babbling Malfoy, a new perception dawned.
Jerry found that he could "see" the vanity beneath Malfoy's words—his desperate need for recognition and praise. He could "see" the hidden insecurity lurking beneath the arrogant posture. These emotions manifested as a faint, colorful aura surrounding Malfoy, clear as day.
Malfoy laughed until he was nearly out of breath, then threw his arms wide as if embracing the world, announcing in a near-operatic tone:
"One hundred and eighty thousand! Jerry! A full one hundred and eighty thousand Galleons!"
Malfoy stepped forward and kicked the chest, his pride nearly overflowing. "And that's not even counting the Sickles I was too lazy to count!"
180,000 Galleons.
The number even surprised Jerry, despite the rich reward he had just received. He had expected maybe a hundred thousand at most. The madness of the foreign wizards and Hogwarts students surpassed his estimates.
But the surprise was quickly replaced by a deeper seriousness.
Jerry frowned. "Are there that many people betting?"
"Of course!" Malfoy's excitement hadn't faded. "It was a sea of people! I've never seen so many packed into the backyard of the Hog's Head! Most were outsiders here for the 'Wizard Chess Championship,' not just local students. However..."
Malfoy's tone shifted to one of blatant annoyance. "Something went wrong in the middle. Some blind fool opened another book in Hogsmeade and stole a lot of our business! Otherwise, I guarantee there'd be at least three hundred thousand Galleons in here!"
Outside wizards... another underground betting ring...
The two pieces of information linked instantly in Jerry's mind. His gaze turned cold. This wasn't just simple business competition; it felt like a trap set specifically for him. Someone had noticed his moves and wanted a piece of the pie—or perhaps, wanted to swallow him whole.
Jerry began to mobilize the power of the Eye of Slaanesh. This time, he didn't just perceive passively; he actively injected mana into his eyes.
The world shifted again. The pink aura of "Vanity" and "Desire for Approval" on Malfoy became vivid. Even subtler emotions—like the "Anger" and "Worry" mentioned regarding the other book—showed up in varying shades.
Jerry felt his thinking become exceptionally sharp, easily catching the loopholes in Malfoy's speech and the fluctuations in his mood. He was adapting to this new perspective and learning how to exploit it.
"Draco!"
Jerry's voice calmed, but the authority and persuasiveness within it made the excited Malfoy shut his mouth and listen intently. "From now on, stop taking any new orders."
Jerry walked to the massive chest, gently stroking the cold brass edges. His gaze seemed to penetrate the wood, seeing the mountains of gold within. "Hand over this chest and all the betting stubs to me for handling and safekeeping."
It was a command that brooked no argument. Malfoy instinctively wanted to protest—he felt this was his achievement and he should control it. But when his eyes met Jerry's, the impulse vanished. He felt Jerry's gaze was deep and mesmerizing, filled with a power that made every word seem like the only correct decision.
"Also," Jerry looked at Malfoy, a smile of approval touching his lips—a smile that, enhanced by the Eye of Slaanesh, felt incredibly sincere and infectious. "You did exceptionally well this time, Draco. Far beyond my expectations. From now on, you don't need to do anything but wait for the payout. I'll make sure you're swimming in gold."
This perfectly timed praise hit Malfoy right in his vanity. He felt all his hard work had been validated. His annoyance vanished, replaced by an intense sense of satisfaction and trust in Jerry.
"No problem! It's all yours!"
Jerry nodded, his gaze returning to the heavy chest, his eyes turning icy and sharp. Another book... fine. It seemed this Wizard Chess Championship was going to involve a lot more than just the game on the board.
With a sharp click, the brass latches were undone. A suppressed wave of magical energy seeped from the cracks. Without hesitation, Jerry used both hands to heave the heavy lid open.
The moment it swung wide, the Undetectable Extension Charm inside seemed to be released from its constraints. There was no warning, no flashy light show.
The first thing to emerge was sound—a deafening roar formed by the high-speed collision and friction of countless metal discs. It wasn't a simple "clatter"; it was a landslide of pure gold sweeping through the room.
A golden torrent erupted from the relatively small opening of the chest in a manner that defied physics. Galleons—tens of thousands, perhaps over a hundred thousand—formed a brilliant golden waterfall, crashing onto the cold stone floor.
The first wave of coins bounced and rolled, spraying in all directions. But that was just the beginning. The gold inside seemed endless, crowding and shoving, forming a viscous, heavy golden tide. The tide quickly overflowed the chest's edges, spreading across the floor and quickly swallowing Jerry's ankles.
The cold, metallic touch of the coins hammered against his shins before being pushed further by the relentless flow. They crashed into the legs of his desk and filled the gaps under his bed. They even formed small golden waves that lapped against the dormitory walls.
In seconds, the floor was covered in a thick, shimmering "carpet." The dim light of the dungeon was reflected by the sea of gold, bathing the entire space in a regal glow.
Malfoy stood dumbfounded. He instinctively backed up against the door to avoid being swept away by the wave. Despite being born into a wealthy Pureblood family, he had never seen such a shocking, crude display of wealth.
The wooden chest acted like an inexhaustible spring, continuing to vomit coins until a small mountain of gold had piled up around it. At the peak of that golden mountain, the bundle of parchment orders tied with twine sat like a lonely island in a golden ocean.
"An ocean of gold?" Jerry whispered to himself. "With this much, I could probably do whatever the hell I want."
Jerry didn't touch the coins. He reached for the bundle of orders. He untied the twine and began flipping through them meticulously. His fingers moved rapidly, his eyes scanning every name, odds, and amount like a precision instrument.
Initially, the orders seemed normal. Most bets were on the favorites—incumbent champions like Professor McGonagall or famous, if unstable, veterans.
But soon, Jerry slowed down. His brow furrowed. He found an abnormal pattern.
In the mass of orders, two names appeared with ridiculous frequency, and the stakes were astronomical.
The first name was Baslon. Jerry remembered the name—a veteran of the circuit, steady and experienced, usually placing in the top eight but never reaching the finals.
The second name was even more familiar: Orion. Cassandra's boyfriend, a Slytherin graduate now working at the Ministry.
What really felt wrong wasn't that people were betting on them to win, but the specific matches they were betting on.
According to McGonagall's private tactical analysis of the brackets, both Baslon and Orion were slated to face incredibly tough opponents in the Round of 16—the runner-up and the third-place finisher from last year, respectively. Those two were known for their erratic but powerful play; even McGonagall admitted they were difficult to face.
Logic dictated that Baslon and Orion had a high probability of being eliminated.
Yet, the orders in front of Jerry were unanimous. Massive amounts of gold were being dumped on them winning those "unwinnable" matches. This wasn't a gambler's hunch; it was a calculated, asymmetrical bet. Someone was convinced—or rather, someone knew—that these matches would result in massive upsets.
Coupled with Malfoy's news about the other betting ring, Jerry's last shred of doubt vanished. This was a setup. A trap designed to gut his operation. The opposition clearly held the key to manipulating the match results. They were placing massive bets on long shots in Jerry's book to maximize their gains while using their own book to steer the market. They intended to make a fortune while leaving Jerry as the house that couldn't pay up.
"Interesting..." Jerry murmured, a cold glint in his eyes.
He reorganized the orders, put them back in the chest, and stood up slowly. He knew this wasn't the time to count money. In the face of absolute power, petty schemes were just child's play.
"Draco, go back and get some rest. I'll handle the rest."
"Alright!"
After sending Malfoy away, Jerry lingered on the gold for a moment before walking to his bed. He leaned down and tapped the edge of the bedframe with his finger. With a faint click, the seam in the wood opened, and the bedboard lifted to reveal a deep hidden compartment.
It wasn't filled with junk. Instead, it held rows of exquisitely designed, magnificent magical jewelry. They shimmered with various gems—diamonds, emeralds, and ancient runes carved into platinum and mythril. They looked like the heirlooms of an ancient noble house.
Jerry reached out and picked up a fine chain encrusted with emeralds, fastening it around his wrist. A cooling sensation spread up his skin. Simultaneously, a semi-transparent panel appeared in his vision.
[Equipment: Emerald Guardian Chain] [Effect: Magic Defense +5%]
He ignored it and picked up a ring set with a massive sapphire, sliding it onto his index finger. The ring fit perfectly, emitting a faint magical pulse.
[Equipment: Deep Blue Wisdom Ring] [Effect: Mana Recovery Speed +10%]
Earrings, brooches, cufflinks... as he put each piece on, panels popped up displaying their names and effects. The jewelry wasn't light. As the pieces added up, Jerry felt his body becoming significantly heavier, but his expression remained stoic.
When the final pendant, etched with a complex magic circle, was fastened around his neck, the panels merged into a detailed stat sheet.
[Host: Jerry Rosier] [Bloodline: Eye of Slaanesh (Primary)] [Attributes:] [Strength: 95 (Equipment Bonus)] [Agility: 97 (Equipment Bonus)] [Constitution: 156 (Equipment Bonus)] [Mana Limit: 855 (Equipment Bonus)] [Mana Recovery: 350/1s (Equipment Bonus)] [Spell Intensity: 950 (Equipment Traits) Base: 208] [Charisma: 47 (Bloodline Bonus)] [Spell Critical Rate: 100% (Equipment Trait)] [Spell Penetration: 100% (Equipment Trait)] [Spell Intensity Multiplier: 456%] [Special Ability: Eye of Slaanesh — Charm (Primary)]
100% Critical Rate. 100% Penetration. 456% Intensity Multiplier.
Jerry stared at the data, his eyes cold and sharp. He stood straight, feeling the heavy pressure of the artifacts. This jewelry wasn't just decoration anymore; it was an arsenal, arming him to the teeth.
Jerry took a step into the sea of gold.
Clang!
The sharp, heavy sound of metal on metal rang out. His foot crushed down, creating a shallow pit in the coins as thousands of Galleons were compressed and shoved aside, tinkling as they rolled.
He didn't stop. He took a second step. With every footfall, a golden ripple surged outward. He walked slowly but with absolute stability. The weight of dozens of magical artifacts made every step deep and solid, as if he weren't walking on coins but on a river of solidified wealth.
The "shhh-shhh" of metal friction was the only sound in the dungeon. But after a few steps, the sound changed. It became lighter, smoother.
Initially, his boots left marks in the gold. Soon, however, his soles were barely touching the top layer, no longer sinking. The sound shifted from a dull crunch to a crisp, continuous hiss.
His posture changed too. The tension from the weight vanished, and his gait became fluid. He wasn't "walking" anymore; he was "floating" on the surface of the golden sea.
Eventually, even the hissing stopped. The gold beneath his feet no longer felt the crude impact of a step; instead, the coins seemed to come alive, softly parting before he arrived and closing silently behind him.
Click!
The door opened. The sound was like a needle popping the bubble of golden splendor.
As the door swung wide, a beam of bright light from the corridor pierced the dim room. The moment the light touched the first coin, the mountain of gold—the entire ocean that filled the room—vanished like a mirage in the sun.
One second, the tide was at his ankles. The next, it was gone. The cold stone floor was revealed, clean and bare. No Galleons, not even a speck of dust. The mountain of coins, the "spring" of the chest—everything had evaporated.
The dorm was back to its original state.
Jerry nodded and walked out of the dorm. As he strolled through the deep corridors of Slytherin, his Eye of Slaanesh worked slowly and effectively. He could keenly sense the mana fluctuations and biological auras around him. His senses were sharpening, as if the world had shed a layer of fog to reveal its true essence.
His steps were light, nearly silent. At the end of the corridor, a familiar figure came into view.
Cassandra.
She was still wearing her gothic-styled Hogwarts uniform, the black lace and silver snake buttons tracing her curves. However, her expression was entirely different from her usual self.
Walking ahead of her at a leisurely pace was another figure—Katherine.
Cassandra hurried forward, blocking Katherine's path.
"Katherine!" her voice was cold, laced with suppressed hatred and a sense of venting.
Katherine stopped and turned her head slightly, her eyes glancing at Cassandra with indifference. She said nothing.
"What is it?"
"Little bitch, are you here to borrow money again?"
Seeing Katherine's nonchalant attitude, the fire in Cassandra's heart burned hotter. She reached down, her fingers sliding under her skirt to the hidden edge of her panties.
Then, her fingertips hooked a small, pink object, dragging it out of the darkness. It was a vibrator egg, its surface still glistening with a hint of moisture and Cassandra's scent. She threw it like trash, and it hit Katherine's chest with a dull thud.
Immediately after, Cassandra ripped the collar from her neck—the one that had restrained her for so long—and threw it along with a stack of bank drafts at Katherine.
"Everything you gave me, I'm giving it all back!"
Cassandra's voice was borderline hysterical, yet she maintained her inherent pride. "You, and that damn Death Eater bastard Jerry... every humiliation you heaped on me, I will take it all back, every single bit!"
Without another look at Katherine, Cassandra turned and walked away, her head held high. No one saw this except Jerry.
In the shadows of the corridor, Jerry watched the dramatic scene unfold. His Eye of Slaanesh captured the complex, intense aura of "Shame" and "Liberation" swirling around Cassandra, along with her near-suicidal rage.
Katherine didn't move. Her gaze remained aloof, looking at the vibrator egg and collar as if they were unsightly trash. She didn't even bend down. She just used the tip of her shoe to flick one or two of the bills over.
After a long silence, Katherine slowly leaned down to pick up the scattered drafts. A faint smile touched the corner of her mouth, but it held no warmth. Instead, it was filled with a thick, murderous intent that only Jerry could see through his special vision.
"Little kitten!" Jerry's voice came from the shadows. "It looks like you failed!"
A light, slow footstep approached. Katherine's head snapped up, her icy killing intent instantly locking onto the source. But when she saw the figure emerging from the dark, her chill melted away, replaced by a complex mix of grievance, annoyance, and a hidden dependence.
Jerry walked out with a smile. It wasn't mocking; it held a familiar, warm, and soothing power.
"Jerry..." Katherine whispered his name, her voice trembling slightly.
The next second, she rushed forward and threw herself into Jerry's arms. Or more accurately, she wrapped her entire body around him.
Katherine pulled Jerry's small frame tightly against her soft, ample breasts. She lowered her head, nuzzling her chin against his hair, while the lower half of her full, elastic chest rubbed forcefully against his face, as if trying to vent her frustration through this intimate contact.
Her voice lost its icy edge, turning into a lazy, whining, honeyed tone, like a lover pouting in his ear.
"My little pervert master!" she breathed, her warm breath tickling Jerry's ear. "Look at her... I'm really furious."
Katherine was still lost in her emotions, her body wriggling slightly as she used the close embrace and the friction of her body to express her "grievance" to Jerry.
However, Jerry's attention had already shifted. His hand naturally slid down Katherine's slender waist, settling on her round, firm buttocks through the high-quality fabric of her uniform skirt. His hand wasn't large, but it was enough to fully cup one cheek. He kneaded the elastic curve with a casual sense of possession.
Katherine's body shivered, a small, satisfied purr escaping her throat. But Jerry's next words made her stop.
"Don't be so quick to get angry," Jerry's calm voice vibrated against her chest. "Cassandra's sudden confidence has reminded me of something."
His fingers continued to trace circles on her flesh, feeling the firmness and softness there. "Our betting ring has hit an interesting problem. Someone is putting massive amounts of gold on two people who have almost no chance of winning."
Katherine looked up, confusion in her eyes. She rubbed her cheek against his hair. "Who?"
"An old veteran named Baslon," Jerry said flatly, as if discussing something trivial. "And the other is Cassandra's boyfriend, Orion."
Hearing that name, Katherine's breathing hitched.
Jerry continued, his palm giving her butt a sharp, playful smack that made a crisp sound. "One second she's a bitch who's afraid to breathe too loud, the next she's throwing things at you and screaming about revenge. Then, her boyfriend gets heavy betting on a match he should lose. Katherine, don't you think... there are too many coincidences here?"
Smack!
Another hit made Katherine's body tighten, her soft flesh bouncing under his hand.
The sting and Jerry's words acted like a key, unlocking a door in Katherine's mind. Her pouting and nuzzling stopped. Her eyes cleared of laziness and grievance, replaced by a sharp, Slytherin shrewdness.
She was no longer the pouting pet; she was the capable witch once more.
She straightened up slightly, though she still held him close. She looked down over her breasts at the boy who seemed to control everything.
"You mean..." she murmured, linking the dots: Orion, the guaranteed loss, the massive underdog bets, Cassandra's defiance... "Someone is trying to fix the match and gut the house!"
She reached the conclusion instantly, her voice low but filled with icy ruthlessness. "They have a way to ensure Orion and Baslon win! Cassandra's behavior was just the signal that they're about to move!"
As Katherine spoke, Jerry saw a fascinating sight.
Earlier, when Cassandra had humiliated Katherine, Jerry had seen a flash of killing intent. In his vision, it was a thin, pale blue aura like ice crystals. it was sharp and cold but small—more like an annoyed cat showing its claws.
But now, as Katherine realized someone was sniping their operation and trying to steal their gold, her aura changed completely.
The pale blue aura exploded. It was no longer a thin line but a surging, bottomless dark red flame erupting from her body. This wasn't cold; it carried a burning, destructive scent that wanted to swallow everything whole.
Jerry was satisfied.
Interesting. Her killing intent from her own humiliation was barely a tenth of what it was now. Her rage wasn't born from her own wounded pride, but from the fact that someone dared to touch his interests.
It seemed his little kitten's heart was now completely, utterly filled with him.
Jerry patted her butt, signaling her to let him go. Katherine complied but stayed close behind him like a panther ready to strike.
"Let's go, little kitten," Jerry said with a pleasant smile. "Let's see what these 'competitors' are actually capable of."
Hogsmeade was usually peaceful at night, with only a few pubs glowing with warm light. But tonight, the entire village was lit up and swarming with people, as lively as a major festival.
Especially since the Round of 16 bracket had been announced that evening, Hogsmeade had undergone a total transformation overnight.
The most striking feature was the moving magical portraits plastered all over the village. They hung from the eaves of the Three Broomsticks, projected onto the walls of Honeydukes, and even a fresh one was tacked next to the tattered sign of the Hog's Head.
The stars of these portraits were the newly minted Sweet Sixteen. Each was expertly crafted, the wizards within acting out their personalities. Some were hunched over chessboards in deep thought, others waved gallantly to the crowd, and two adjacent portraits were even engaged in a silent, fierce match across their frames.
Jerry scanned them all. He even saw Professor McGonagall's portrait. But his gaze eventually settled on two specific ones.
One showed a determined, middle-aged man sitting rigidly with sharp eyes—Baslon. The other was a handsome young man with a hint of Slytherin arrogance, adjusting his tie while soaking in the attention. Orion.
Jerry and Katherine didn't linger. Their current appearance was a far cry from Hogwarts students.
Jerry had transformed into a middle-aged man with brown hair and a few freckles—someone completely average who would vanish in a crowd. Katherine was a slightly plump blonde woman with a kind smile, her hair in a sensible bun, looking like a gentle housewife.
Together, they looked like a regular wizarding couple out for the weekend to support their favorite players.
"Dear, who do you think has the best chance this year?" Katherine asked in a slightly naive tone, loud enough for passersby to hear. She was a natural at the role, clinging to Jerry's arm.
Jerry played the "husband" who knew a thing or two, puffing out a non-existent beer belly and clearing his throat. "Hard to say. McGonagall is a powerhouse, but that Flitwick fellow... I hear his moves are incredibly tricky..."
They chatted idly as they let the crowd push them toward the Hog's Head. They didn't go in, but stood near the entrance as if waiting for someone. Soon, a conversation at an outdoor table caught their attention.
A few wizards, clearly seasoned gamblers, were arguing over butterbeers.
"I'm telling you, bet on Baslon!" a bearded wizard slammed the table. "Don't mind the odds. I have inside info. He's been getting lessons from a hidden master lately. His game has leveled up!"
"Give it a rest, Rolf. Your 'inside info' came from some drunk," a lanky wizard sneered. "The real upset is Orion!"
Jerry and Katherine exchanged a look but remained silent.
The lanky wizard lowered his voice. "You don't know? Orion is a rising star at the Ministry. He's cozy with Fudge's inner circle. They're backing him. He's got an ace up his sleeve. Haven't you seen? Even the 'Prophet' book is adjusting his odds!"
"The 'Prophet' book?" Rolf blinked. "What's that? I haven't heard of it."
The lanky wizard smirked. "You're behind the times! It's the book Malfoy opened! But they've got a new channel for regulars called the 'Prophet Board.' I had to pay a few Sickles to a Slytherin kid just for the tip!"
Jerry and Katherine's expressions shifted under their masks. They knew perfectly well that Jerry had ordered Malfoy to stop taking bets hours ago. His book should be dead.
Rolf was hooked. "Malfoy's book? Didn't he close shop this evening? Why open a new one?"
"That's where you're wrong!" the lanky wizard acted like an insider. "Closing was just for show! The 'Prophet Board' is where the real money is! I hear they're pushing two names: Baslon and Orion. The odds are crazy high, but the word is they're a lock!"
Another wizard at the table chimed in. "Yeah, I heard that too. Word is Malfoy got his hands on some exclusive intel. That's why he's risking it. You need a connection just to get a bet in; regular folk can't find it."
The conversation continued, but Jerry and Katherine had heard enough. The answer was obvious.
"Dear, we..." Katherine started to speak, but Jerry squeezed her hand, signaling her to stay calm.
His average-looking eyes turned deep. He had figured out the entire plan—a vicious, brilliant trap. Their goal wasn't just to win money from Jerry. They were planning to fix the whole tournament and sweep the market. Jerry's book was just the first hurdle in their path to wealth.
Step one: Place massive, seemingly stupid bets on long shots like Orion and Baslon in Jerry's real book, locking in a payout that would bankrupt him.
Step two: Use Malfoy's name and the reputation Jerry's book had built to open a fake "Prophet Board." Here, they would do the opposite, hyping Orion and Baslon as "confirmed insiders" to attract a flood of bets from gullible gamblers.
Step three, the most sinister: They would fix the matches so Orion and Baslon "upset" their opponents in the Round of 16. Jerry's book would explode instantly.
But it wouldn't end there. The upsets would draw in even more money. With Jerry out of the way, all the action would flow to their fake book. But when everyone thinks the long shots are going all the way, they will lose in the Quarterfinals or Semifinals. The gamblers who bet their lives on the "insider tip" will be wiped out, and the mountain of cash will stay in the house's pocket.
One side wipes out Jerry. The other side uses Malfoy's credibility to harvest the entire market. They eat everything.
And through it all, Jerry, the real mastermind, was never even exposed. To the world, Draco Malfoy was the face of the operation. When the fake book vanishes with the money, the furious gamblers who lost their shirts will only remember one name: Draco Malfoy.
A perfect "Pig Butchering" scam, and they were trying to butcher him.
"Let's go, dear."
Jerry pulled Katherine away from the Three Broomsticks. They wandered aimlessly for a while before finding the "Prophet Board" headquarters in a secluded alley.
It was cruder than Jerry expected—just a rickety table against a crumbling wall with a wizard taking notes. But it was booming. A line of wizards stretched to the mouth of the alley. The one taking the money was, unsurprisingly, another student in a Slytherin uniform.
Once that group finished their shift and left, Jerry and Katherine shadowed them. The Polyjuice was still active; they were still just a boring couple.
The opposition had good counter-surveillance. Hogsmeade wasn't big, but the group—led by one Abraxas—zigzagged through alleys, Honeydukes' backyard, and in and out of the Hog's Head to shake any tails.
Jerry felt several subtle mana fluctuations.
"Anti-tracking charms," Katherine whispered. Her wand was hidden in her sleeve, its tip glowing faintly. "They're leaving magical traps at every turn."
But to them, this was child's play. Jerry used the Eye of Slaanesh to see the mana flow, while Katherine used her mastery of Charms to bypass the traps. They stayed at a safe distance.
After thirty minutes of checking, the group finally stopped at an unremarkable two-story house. Jerry and Katherine stopped at a corner across the street, merging into the shadows of the rising sun.
Katherine drew her wand and cast a silent, complex spell toward the house. "Revelio... Complexio Scrutari..."
In her vision, and Jerry's through their link, the house was suddenly shrouded in a vibrant green light. It wasn't the hard barrier of a Ministry shield; it was like living, woven vines, forming a seamless whole. It felt natural, ancient, and xenophobic.
The light flickered and vanished. But that glimpse made their expressions turn grim.
"Elven magic..." Katherine's voice was full of disbelief. "A stealth and protection field of this caliber... that's the work of elves. And it's pure, ancient elven magic."
It wasn't that wizards didn't know elven magic, but most knew only scraps. To set up a field this strong meant there was an elf—or a group of them—living inside.
Things had become very interesting. A scheme by a branch of the Malfoy family against the main heir, backed by ancient elven magic. This game had just surpassed a simple family feud.
Jerry smirked. "Can you break it?"
Katherine frowned and shook her head. Her talent lay in brutal Curses and complex Potions. Against the ancient, xenophobic system of elven magic, she was at a loss.
"It's a specialty. Unless you find the source of the caster's power or use raw mana that far exceeds the barrier's capacity to crush it, you can't slip in without alerting them."
"Crush it, huh..." Jerry glanced at the sky. "In that case, let's not waste time. Let's just level the place."
He sounded like he was deciding what to have for lunch. "I have a class later—Selina's class. If I don't show, god knows how she'll target me."
As he spoke, he reached out under the cover of their disguises and gave Katherine's firm butt a hard, possessive squeeze.
"Little kitten..."
He started to speak, but the front door of the house creaked open. Two figures walked out.
Leading the way was Orion. Following him was the determined veteran, Baslon.
In the shadows, the pink glow in Jerry's eyes flared. In his vision, the world changed. He saw Orion and Baslon shrouded in a faint, mercury-like silver glow. It was the residual mana of a powerful performance-enhancing potion—likely their "ace" for the chessboard.
At the same time, waves of emotion radiated from them—a mix of confidence, greed, and a near-frenetic excitement for their impending victory.
They walked away whispering, smiles of guaranteed success on their faces.
Once they vanished around a corner, Katherine's body relaxed. She was about to speak when a warm hand covered her mouth. Jerry's disguised face watched the deep shadows at the other end of the alley. His tone turned steady.
Katherine understood instantly. She gripped her wand, ready for a fight. Silence filled the alley, save for the wind.
"Well... you've been following us for quite a while, haven't you?" Jerry's voice broke the silence. It wasn't loud, but it reached every corner. "Don't you want to come out and talk?"
A long silence followed. Then, a playful, bell-like female voice came from the shadows. "I only accept interviews with people who show their 'true face.'"
Without hesitation, Jerry willed the Polyjuice to fade. His body warped and shifted next to Katherine. His skin regained its luster, his features became deep and sharp, and his frame shrank back to its original size. Despite being smaller, he radiated an immense pressure in the morning light.
He had known he was being followed because the Eye of Slaanesh caught the subtle emotional ripples of a tail, even though their invisibility was top-tier.
Katherine followed suit, her disguise melting away.
"Oh?" The bell-like voice spoke again, accompanied by a ripple in the air and a hint of surprise. "You're... Rosier?"
A figure stepped out of the shadows, about three meters from Jerry. She was half a head shorter than Katherine, wearing a well-tailored dark green robe. It wasn't a stiff, formal style; the hem was tucked up to show white sneakers and white calf socks. Her bare legs gave her a lively, approachable, tomboyish vibe.
She had a few freckles on her face and bright, piercing eyes. A camera hung from her neck, and a Quick-Quotes Quill hovered beside her.
"You're Rita Skeeter!" Katherine gasped. "The legendary reporter!"