Across the steep clearing on the outer perimeter of Hogwarts' back mountain, howling mountain gales whipped stray blades of grass and clumps of dirt wildly through the air.
Sunlight spilled through thin fractures in the clouds, casting dappled shifts of light and shadow over the open turf.
"Stomp your right foot! Goyle! Throw that dead-pig leg of yours to the right!"
Draco's harsh, metallic roar echoed through the valley.
Having shed his Slytherin robes, he wore only a white shirt half-drenched in sweat, sleeves rolled high above his elbows.
Gripping an unsharpened wooden rapier in his hand, his boots detonated with the low hum of micro-propulsion arrays, turning him into a grey afterimage skimming the turf at blistering speed!
Bang!
The wooden sword howled through the air, slamming violently against the heavy shield plate hoisted in both of Goyle's hands!
The massive kinetic force sent Goyle's two-hundred-pound frame stumbling back four or five paces across the border of stone and turf, his boots gouging two deep trenches into the mud, panting in ragged, wheezing gasps.
Dozens of paces away along the gravel trail, a small crowd of Gryffindor onlookers had gathered, accompanied by two patrolling Aurors from the Department of War Operations.
"What is Malfoy doing over there? Beating his own lackeys with a wooden sword?"
"Has he lost his mind?! What are those glowing runes beneath their boots? How are they moving so fast?!"
"If you ask me, someone should fetch Professor McGonagall immediately! They're definitely drilling some forbidden Dark Magic tactics in secret!"
The watching students muttered in hushed, anxious whispers.
Wands in hand, the two Aurors watched with guarded wariness, yet hesitated to step forward and intervene due to the Malfoy crest gleaming on Draco's gear.
Just then.
A crisp, rhythmic clicking of high heels striking the gravel path echoed around the corner.
The crowd parted instinctively.
Rita Skeeter strode into view wearing an exceptionally tight, dark olive-green tailored dress robe.
The cut of the robe was audaciously bold, plunging into a deep V-neck that tightly cupped her voluptuous, mature bosom, her massive snow-white breasts heaving and swaying violently with each step as if ready to burst free.
Her blonde curls were impeccably styled, brushing against her delicate earrings.
Her glamorous, haughty face wore her signature predatory smile, sporting spotless white gloves, carrying a bulky alchemical camera, flanked by a newspaper photographer lugging a heavy plate case.
The students exchanged uneasy glances.
"It's Rita Skeeter from the Daily Prophet!"
"Malfoy is finished now! Rita loves nothing more than exposing pureblood heirs drilling illegal combat and brutalizing classmates!"
"Look at that camera—tomorrow's front page is guaranteed to be 'Malfoy's Secret Dueling Ring'!"
Draco noticed Rita Skeeter stepping onto the turf as well.
Lowering his wooden rapier, he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his pale, aristocratic face locking into an icy, guarded mask.
He planted the tip of the wooden blade into the soil, resting his hands on his hips, eyeing the approaching woman with frosty disdain.
"Reporter Skeeter, the Daily Prophet certainly has long reach."
Draco sneered, his hostility undisguised.
"What? Planning to pin an 'illicit brawl' headline on me to boost sales for that rag of yours?"
And yet.
A scene that defied everyone's expectations unfolded before their eyes!
The notoriously vicious, venomous scandal-hound who took vicious delight in tearing down pureblood dynasties did not show the slightest hint of anger upon hearing Draco's provocation.
Instead, her glamorous face broke into an intensely warm, affectionate, and thoroughly admiring smile!
She glided swiftly across the grass, her high heels indenting small divots into the turf.
Stopping five paces before Draco, she gracefully smoothed the plunging neckline over her heaving cleavage, her voice dripping with syrupy sweetness:
"Listen to yourself, Mr. Malfoy!"
Rita turned, gesturing for the photographer behind her to aim the lens directly at the sweat-drenched Draco and the splintered straw dummies on the ground.
"I came today on behalf of the Daily Prophet's second-page feature specifically to conduct an exclusive interview!"
Rita projected her voice loudly, ensuring every watching student and patrolling Auror heard every single word crystal clear.
"In this perilous hour of war between two worlds! Facing the battle-hardened professional flyers of Old Europe! Hogwarts' outstanding student representative—Mr. Draco Malfoy—chose not the pampered comfort of the castle, but led his comrades into the biting mountain gales, bleeding and sweating to hone their skills!"
Her glossy lips parted and fluttered with fervor, her face radiating reverent praise.
"How could this be an illicit brawl? This is nothing less than Slytherin House's noble devotion to the glory of Hogwarts! A selfless sacrifice to uphold the honor of British wizards in next week's Quidditch All-Star Invitational!"
The watching Gryffindors were struck utterly dumb!
Even the two wand-wielding Aurors stared wide-eyed in disbelief, glancing at each other as if doubting their own hearing!
Rita Skeeter—who normally trampled pureblood families into the mud at every turn—was openly singing his praises in broad daylight?!
Draco was momentarily caught off guard as well.
A flicker of bewilderment crossed his haughty features, but years of aristocratic training kicked in immediately.
His grey-blue eyes swept past Rita's shoulder toward the perimeter.
There, nestled in the shadows of a massive oak tree at the edge of the turf,
Jerry leaned casually against the rough bark with both hands in his coat pockets, watching the spectacle with a cold, amused smirk.
It clicked in Draco's mind in an instant!
This was Jerry's handiwork!
The confusion vanished from Draco's pale face, replaced by supreme confidence and swaggering arrogance!
He stepped forward half a pace, resting the wooden rapier across his shoulder, tilting his chin high toward the camera.
"Reporter Skeeter speaks the truth!"
Draco's voice rang out with domineering authority.
"What of Old Europe's flyers?! What of national team captains?! Before absolute physical combat and ruthless tactical prowess, the House of Malfoy will prove through action who truly rules the pitch!"
"Splendidly said, Mr. Malfoy!"
Rita clapped her gloved hands in effusive, breathy delight.
"Quick! Capture a few close-ups of Mr. Malfoy! Capture the heroic, fearless sweat glistening on his brow!"
In the exact millisecond the photographer bent down to adjust his lens angle and everyone's attention was glued to Draco's bombastic declaration,
Jerry pushed off the tree trunk.
With measured, casual strides, hands in his overcoat pockets, he strolled silently up behind Rita Skeeter.
Halting right behind her, the distance between them was razor-thin—his slight frame pressed nearly flush against the mature, voluptuous curve of her back.
Jerry exhaled a warm wisp of minty smoke, curling gently up along her pale, slender neck.
Rita shuddered visibly.
She didn't even need to turn around; the unmistakable, domineering masculine heat behind her and the scent of mint smoke laced with Jiuyou Abyss demonic arts told her exactly who had arrived!
Her beaming smile toward the camera never wavered as she projected her voice:
"Mr. Malfoy! Do you possess any unique insights regarding high-altitude interception against the Old European team next week?"
Yet in the blind spot completely obscured from everyone's view!
Jerry slipped his right hand silently from his coat pocket!
That slender hand glided down the waistline of her skin-tight olive-green dress with brutal, practiced ease!
Sliding downward—
Smack.
Jerry's palm clamped directly over her lush, firm, towering ass cheek!
A vicious, unsparing squeeze!
Five fingers sank deep into the springy, voluptuous mature flesh, twisting hard!
"Mmh-ngh..."
Rita's professional questioning hitched abruptly in her throat!
A breathy, trembling whimper of sheer pleasure nearly tore past her painted lips!
Her stockingless legs in high heels went weak on the turf!
She clutched her interview notebook in a death grip, her exquisitely painted face flushing with feverish crimson!
Suppressing the tremors running through her core, she strained to maintain her poised elegance, gesturing to the photographer.
Behind her!
Jerry's wicked smirk grew completely brazen.
His thumb and index finger caught the lace trim of her panties through the thin dress fabric, yanking it outward!
His hand slid smoothly past the high slit of her dress!
Pressing directly against the bare, silky-smooth flesh of her inner thighs!
Infused with Jiuyou Abyss demonic magic, his scalding fingertips buzzed with numbing static, lightly tapping the hyper-sensitive tendon on her inner thigh!
"Ah..."
Rita gasped, stumbling half a step forward!
Her towering breasts heaved violently within her low neckline, rolling in enticing waves of pale flesh.
Draco paused, looking at her with slight suspicion: "Reporter Skeeter? Is something wrong?"
Rita hurriedly raised a gloved hand to dab at the fine beads of sweat across her brow.
Her gorgeous eyes darted erratically, forcing a strained professional smile through clenched teeth:
"N-Nothing at all, Mr. Malfoy! Just a loose stone on the grass... lost my footing for a second! Let us continue! Continue!"
As she said the word "continue," her shapely legs clamped together in a vice beneath her dress!
Because deep beneath her hem!
Jerry's wicked hand had reached all the way inside!
Two fingers peeled aside her dark panties—already soaked through with scalding nectar—pressing directly into her flooded, dripping slit!
A relentless, grinding knead!
His fingertips swirled and flicked across her soaked labia!
Squelch! Squelch!
Muffled, wet squelches played out beneath the shield of her dress!
Teased openly in broad daylight, a raging, numbing thrill flooded Rita's belly, her body trembling on the turf.
Though her mouth continued spouting praises at Draco, her sultry eyes were glazed with a wanton mix of surrender and intense pleasure!
"Reporter Skeeter."
Jerry's calm voice sounded from behind her.
Slipping both hands back into his coat pockets as if nothing had happened, he strolled past her flank.
Casting a sidelong glance through a puff of smoke, he said:
"The wind is brisk out here; finished with your interview? If so, follow me behind the ruined stone archway... to 'swap out the film' for that alchemical camera of yours."
Hearing the words "swap out the film," a look of pure relief and feverish lust flared in her eyes!
She did not hesitate for a second!
Spinning around, she waved to the photographer:
"Stay here! Keep shooting Mr. Malfoy's training portfolio! Capture every high-difficulty combat move! I will consult with Mr. Rosier over there regarding layout details for page two!"
"Understood, Ms. Skeeter!" the photographer shouted obediently.
Clicking her heels, her voluptuous hips swaying urgently beneath her dress, Rita hurried after Jerry's footsteps.
One after the other, they bypassed the lawn into the deep shadows behind an abandoned stone archway, completely obscured by rough stone walls and waist-high briars.
The moment they crossed into the dark!
Jerry didn't bother offering her a shred of foreplay!
Halting with his back against the cold stone, he flicked the mint cigar into the gravel nearby.
Reaching out, he seized the plunging neckline of her olive-green dress and yanked down hard!
Rip!
The bodice was violently torn down below her breasts!
Those massive, glistening, voluptuous snow-white mounds sprang free from her bra!
Her pink nipples hardened instantly, trembling in the chilly mountain wind!
"You little beast!"
Casting aside all shame, her tall, curvaceous frame dropped to her knees upon the gravel!
Her expensive dress pooled across the turf, thrusting her lush, firm ass high into the air in a breathtaking, erotic curve.
Her gloved hands climbed deftly to Jerry's waistband!
Click!
The buckle popped open!
Yanking down the zipper with both hands!
Riiip!
The fly tore open to the bottom!
Boing!
"Tomorrow... once the front-page article hits the presses... all of Europe will have its eyes pinned on Malfoy!"
With that,
Rita spun around against the stone wall!
Her tall, voluptuous body draped over a raised, flat ruined slab!
Bracing her hands against the stone edge, she hoisted the skirt of her dress all the way to her waist!
Baring her massive, outrageously firm mature buttocks clad in lace panties!
"Little monster... hurry and... fill me up!"
Rita turned her head back, her eyes dancing with wicked lust.
Jerry showed not an ounce of hesitation!
Raising his hand, he brought a heavy palm down across her lush ass cheek!
SMACK!
A crisp, thunderous slap of flesh echoed behind the archway!
Her painted lips parted in ragged gasps, strings of white froth clinging to her mouth as she breathed in the cold mountain air.
Thick semen pooling in the cleft of her ass trickled down her inner thighs, dripping into the soil and soaking her ruined dress.
Standing by the slab, Jerry pulled up his zipper with one hand and buckled his belt.
Looking down at the flushed woman sprawled across the stone, drenched in sweat and mingled juices, he picked up the mint cigar from the gravel and flicked his lighter to reignite it.
"Alright, get up."
Jerry nudged the toe of his boot lightly into her firm buttocks.
"Fix your dress."
The nudge drew a trembling, breathy whimper from her lips.
Pushing herself up with her gloved hands, her weak legs wobbled on the stone several times before she could find her balance.
Her massive white breasts hung exposed from the torn bodice, rolling in enticing waves.
"You little beast... that monster of yours... doesn't know a shred of tender mercy."
Dabbing the cum from her mouth and chest with a handkerchief, Rita cast him a sultry, fawning glance.
She gathered her torn bodice, fastening her bra before pulling down her dress, concealing the thick cream still oozing steadily down her inner thighs.
"My throat and my pussy are completely numb from your pounding; if my legs shake and the photographer notices when I walk out, don't say I didn't warn you."
Leaning against the cold stone, Jerry exhaled a plume of white smoke.
"Cut the idle chatter. Your eyes looked shifty out on the lawn earlier—what happened on the front line?"
At the mention of serious business, the wanton smile on Rita's face receded, replaced by the razor-sharp shrewdness of a top investigative journalist.
Ignoring the wet stickiness inside her panties, she pressed into Jerry's chest, resting her hands on his coat lapels, leaning in close to whisper in his ear.
"My little devil, I received classified battlefield reports from my mole in War Operations Logistics early this morning."
Panting softly, she fondled Jerry's lower abdomen.
"At the Boundary River rift on the front lines... the offensive momentum of those otherworldly cultivators suddenly collapsed!"
Jerry raised an eyebrow, his grip on her lower back tightening, fingers sinking into her lush curves.
"Collapsed? How could it suddenly recede?"
"That's the bizarre part!"
Rita pressed closer, her heavy breasts flattening against his chest.
"At two o'clock this morning, seventeen frontline potion depots received black market battle dispatches simultaneously. Dozens of old cultivators riding flying swords had already breached our alchemical wards, when suddenly—as if receiving urgent orders—they retreated thirty li without even maintaining tactical cover!"
Tracing her hand from Jerry's chin down to his neck, her voice carried undisguised shock.
"The old fossils in War Operations initially suspected an ambush and sent three Auror scout squads to investigate. And guess what? The cultivator positions were practically deserted! They left behind massive caches of unharvested herbs and raw ores—by all appearances, some catastrophic upheaval struck their own home base!"
Jerry took a drag of his cigar, the ember flaring bright in the shadows.
Internal upheaval in the cultivation realm?
Having spent time in the Xuantian Realm, he knew all too well that the realm cluster was far from unified.
If supreme powerhouses clashed internally or the Boundary River suffered a spatial collapse, it would certainly cause frontline pressure to plummet.
Yet for the political landscape of the wizarding world, this was a profoundly disruptive variable.
Jerry clamped Rita's chin, squeezing her lush lips out of shape.
"Do Dumbledore and Old Nott know about this?"
Rita whimpered softly, wriggling her body against his, pressing her thigh flush against his groin.
"War Operations clamped down on the news, but paper cannot smother fire. Old Nott has plants in Logistics; he'll catch wind of it before noon."
Rita winked, a mischievous smile curling on her lips.
"My little devil, if the cultivators pull back their front line and defensive pressure eases, Dumbledore can naturally withdraw elite frontline Aurors to fortify the Ministry! When Bill 14 hits its second reading... the two hundred mercenaries Old Nott assembled won't stand a chance!"
Jerry's gaze darkened instantly.
The cultivators' retreat would allow Dumbledore to recall his forces with ease, while the pureblood families would lose their greatest leverage—the state of emergency caused by frontline shortages.
Should the balance of power tilt, the bloody brawl Jerry had orchestrated risked turning into a unilateral purge by Dumbledore!
That was the last outcome Jerry desired.
He needed mutual destruction! He needed both factions to tear down the old order in a crucible of blood and fire!
"Rita."
Jerry commanded coldly, landing a heavy slap across her ass right through her dress!
SMACK!
The crisp impact echoed behind the ruined archway.
"Tomorrow's front-page article—change the angle."
The slap sent a jolt through her thighs, eliciting a breathy moan as she nodded emphatically.
"My little devil... how do you want it framed? I'm all yours!"
Jerry leaned in, his voice laden with crushing authority:
"Not a single word about the cultivators retreating. Instead, fabricate a narrative that the frontline defenses are on the verge of total collapse! Report that War Operations, crippled by catastrophic casualties and potion shortages, is secretly drafting martial decrees for universal conscription!"
Jerry squeezed her bare breasts hard through the torn fabric.
"Paint the private armor and potion stockpiles secured by Old Nott and Malfoy as 'the final bulwark defending British wizarding lives and property'! Make every pureblood patriarch in Europe believe they will be dragged to the slaughter tomorrow if they don't fight!"
Hearing this scheme of manufactured panic, a manic brilliance ignited in Rita's eyes!
Throwing her arms around Jerry's neck, she bit down on his Adam's apple, leaving a red mark.
"You little monster... you're diabolical! Once this runs, Old Nott and the purebloods will bet everything to wage total war against War Operations next Wednesday! Even if Dumbledore wants to pull back troops, panicked pureblood Wizengamot members will pin him down in the chamber!"
"As long as you understand your assignment."
Jerry shoved her casually from his embrace.
Steadying herself in her heels, Rita tidied her disheveled blonde curls and torn dress. Pulling out a compact mirror and lipstick, she expertly touched up her pout, instantly resurrecting the haughty, glamorous, untouchable investigative star.
The stone door deep within the Slytherin subterranean dormitory slid open.
No lamps were lit within the damp, chilly stone chamber, save for faint eerie-blue embers flickering in the hearth. The air was permeated with sunken wood and the delicate yet predatory fragrance of foreign spirit herbs.
Shutting the door, Jerry hung his overcoat on the wooden peg and unbuttoned his collar. He strode toward the divan in the center of the room, his boots making faint thuds against the plush carpet.
Reclining across the dark velvet cushions was a slender, voluptuous silhouette.
Yin Luo wore a sheer ink-black gauze robe draped casually around her hips, baring her long, snow-white legs. Her bare feet were pale and shapely, delicate toes gleaming faintly beneath the eerie blue firelight.
Hearing Jerry's approaching footsteps, Yin Luo didn't even lift her head, merely extending her left foot to expertly hook his belt buckle with her slender toes, giving a gentle tug.
"Back already?"
Her voice was husky, carrying the languid arrogance unique to a demonic sect Elder.
Propping up her torso, her towering breasts showed faintly beneath the black gauze.
"Spent the entire day eating barbecue with Muggles in the countryside; you reek of cheap charcoal smoke."
Jerry paused, letting her bare foot rest against his waist. Flicking open his brass lighter, he lit a mint cigar.
Exhaling a rich cloud of smoke, Jerry asked, "What is it? Instead of lurking in the library, what brought you back to the room?"
"If I hadn't come, you'd still be kept completely in the dark."
A provocative smirk curved her stunning lips.
Her foot hooked at his waistband pressed firmly!
"Tsk. Seeing it every day, it's still terrifyingly monstrous."
A spark of feverish lust flashed in Yin Luo's eyes.
Without rising, reclining against the cushions, she raised both long legs, clamping her bare soles gently around his groin!
"Don't just stand there enjoying yourself."
Accelerating the pumping friction of her bare soles, Yin Luo tilted her chin, exposing her slender neck, her voice breathy.
"I received a blood-talisman secret transmission from the Myriad Demons Palace early this morning."
Standing before the divan with hands on his hips, Jerry let her pale, predatory feet squeeze and stroke his massive member. He took a drag from his cigar, his eyes narrowing.
"Speak."
"A catastrophic disaster struck the cultivation realm cluster."
Yin Luo tightened her grip, her arches clamping down hard around his thick shaft, the friction making her breathing ragged!
Squelch! Squelch!
"Deep within the core spirit veins of the Xuantian Realm, an unprecedented upheaval erupted without warning! A third of the Boundary River's foundation completely collapsed!"
Panting heavily, her thighs trembling with exertion, her toes curled tightly around the coronal head of his cock.
"The headquarters of the Myriad Demons Palace and thirty floating mountain gates of the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion were sucked directly into the void rifts! The Patriarch issued a Blood-Extermination Decree, recalling all elite Elders and high-tier disciples to defend the sect! The armies assaulting the wizarding world had no choice but to pull back their front line by dozens of li!"
Hearing this crucial intelligence, Jerry clamped his hands over her knees!
"The Boundary River collapsed? The floating mountains were swallowed?"
"Without a doubt!"
Yin Luo clamped her soles tighter, wedging his swollen head between her heels, licking her lower lip as her eyes glazed over.
"With frontline pressure relieved, those old fossils in the wizarding world won't be able to sit still."
Looking up at Jerry, a depraved smirk spread across her lips.
"If you don't blow your load between my feet right now, when Dumbledore pulls his Aurors back in two days, your little play will fall apart completely."
Jerry gripped her calves and drove his hips forward with a savage thrust!
Squelch——!
The thick coronal head jammed violently into the narrow crevice formed by her pressed soles!
Massive bursts of scalding, viscous cum erupted across Yin Luo's pale insteps and inner thighs, splattering with loud, wet claps!
Jarred by the violent footjob climax, Yin Luo shuddered in ecstasy, letting out an involuntary, breathy moan.
Right at that moment,
A rhythmic knock sounded on the stone door.
With a heavy rumble, the door slid aside.
Hermione strode in wearing a sharp, form-fitting black leather pencil skirt, carrying a thick black dossier, heels clicking on the stone.
The moment she stepped inside, the pungent scent of semen and foreign herbs washed over her.
Hermione's expression didn't flinch in the slightest, her eyes sweeping over Yin Luo stroking Jerry's cock with her bare feet on the divan, then over Jerry's monstrous shaft dripping with white cum.
"Seems my timing is a bit off?"
Walking up to the divan, Hermione slammed the dossier onto the darkwood coffee table with a crisp slap.
Loosening her tie, her long legs crossed beneath her leather skirt, her face wearing practiced commercial amusement.
"Elder Yin Luo's feet seem remarkably practiced. Shall I fetch a bottle of alchemical lubricant from the workshop? Lest you chafe that tender skin of yours."
Hearing this, Yin Luo didn't stop; instead, she clamped her soles even tighter, rubbing her toes over the coronal head.
"Miss Granger, for a mere rod like this, I have no need for cheap black-market grease."
Hermione scoffed, turning to Jerry.
"Jerry, the arrangements for the new 'Eden' gathering on the third basement level are complete."
Crossing her arms, Hermione radiated crisp dominance.
"The rising star witches from War Operations brought by Cassiopeia, along with the remaining Beauxbatons champions, have all been escorted into the subterranean hot spring hall."
Hermione arched an eyebrow, her gaze sweeping over Yin Luo's long, pale legs.
"I took the liberty of reserving an honored seat for our Myriad Demons Palace Elder. I wonder if Elder Yin Luo has any interest in witnessing the finest sensory feast our wizarding world has to offer?"
Hearing this, Yin Luo clamped her feet together with a final squeeze, milking out the remaining drops of semen.
Tilting her head up at Hermione, a feral, bloodthirsty smirk curled across her lips.
"A feast of wizarding women? Intriguing."
Retracting her feet, she planted her semen-streaked soles directly onto the carpet. Rising to her feet, her black gauze robe billowed in a seductive arc.
"I'd like to see what new tricks you wand-waving women can play."