Walking through several deserted alleyways, Jerry stopped before an inconspicuous stone wall. He reached out his small hand, gently stroking the wall's surface. An invisible fluctuation spread instantly, and the hard stone wall rippled like water, revealing a dark, arched entrance.
He stepped inside, and the stone wall immediately sealed behind him, completely isolating him from the Muggle world outside.
Passing through a gloomy corridor, Jerry returned to the Rosier family's private castle—the ancient structure he called "Black Feather Keep." The castle's exterior was plain and low-key, but the interior was a world apart, filled with ancient magical aura and modern comfortable luxury.
The moment he entered the main hall, the faint fireplace automatically roared to life, its crackling flames dispelling the night's chill. Under the tall, arched ceiling, magical oil lamps lit themselves, bathing the entire hall in bright light. The air was filled with a faint, refreshing scent of sandalwood and magical herbs.
Jerry casually tossed the gold pouch into the air. The bag wobbled on its own toward the study, apparently headed for its intended destination—the Galleons' resting place. He walked briskly toward a huge armchair in the center of the hall. The chair was carved from dark oak, its backrest etched with complex magical runes, and its surface covered with soft velvet cushions.
Climbing onto the chair, his small body was almost completely enveloped by the wide armchair. He leaned back comfortably, gazing up at the ceiling carved with star charts.
Black Feather Keep was once a symbol of the Rosier family's prominent power. It had been personally designed and built centuries ago by one of Jerry's distant ancestors, combining the ancient magical defenses and the luxurious philosophy of a pure-blood family. The towering turrets and sturdy stone walls—every brick seemed steeped in magic. The colossal family portraits hanging in the main hall, featuring sharp-eyed, richly dressed ancestors, silently narrated the family's past glory and honor.
However, today, these portraits were covered with a thin layer of dust, just like the entire Rosier family, which had inevitably declined after the sudden upheaval.
Following the downfall of Voldemort and the subsequent reckoning of the Death Eaters, Black Feather Keep, the ancient castle carrying the blood and pride of countless generations of Rosiers, was virtually the last shred of dignity the family retained. Although the Ministry of Magic confiscated and froze most of the Rosier family's assets, the castle's stealth, complex ancient enchantments, and some clever family contracts prevented it from being completely seized. After multiple negotiations, it was "legally" retained for the infant Jerry in a manner that felt almost like charity.
It was Jerry's last sanctuary and the only "base" he currently controlled. The House-Elves who once served in the castle had long been dismissed or vanished. The empty castle felt particularly cold, with only the faint humming of some simple magical mechanisms set up by Jerry occasionally breaking the silence of the night.
But for Jerry, this solitude was an advantage. Here, he could recklessly pursue his "Synthesis" undertaking, gradually combining the cheap magical junk he bought in Diagon Alley into powerful equipment.
Just as Jerry was about to drift off to sleep, the fire crackling in the fireplace suddenly paused with a soft "poof." Immediately after, a faint magical fluctuation emanated from outside the castle—a sign that the perimeter's defensive enchantments had been triggered.
Jerry's eyes narrowed slightly. His small body straightened up from the armchair, his gaze sharp as he looked toward the tall French windows of the main hall. Outside, the night was deep, dotted only by a few stars.
"Click!"
A sharp impact broke the indoor silence. A large, glossy-feathered brown magical owl actually penetrated the invisible defensive charm on the window and landed lightly on the windowsill. It held a letter made of thick parchment, prominently stamped with the crest of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The owl tilted its head, its amber eyes staring intently at Jerry, seemingly waiting for his response.
Jerry walked up, took the letter from the small owl's beak, and lightly tapped its head with his fingertip. The owl cooed obediently, then spread its wings and flew away, once again ignoring the castle's defensive magic, and disappeared into the night sky.
He tore open the envelope, quickly scanning the contents on the parchment.
Just then, the cold, mechanical voice in the depths of his mind spoke again.
"[Mandatory Monthly Quest] issued: 'Slytherin's Crown.'"
Jerry's breath subtly hitched for a moment.
"Quest Description: Admission to Hogwarts is a crucial step for all wizards. You must enter this school with absolute superiority and demonstrate your true potential and worth."
"Quest Objectives:
Achieve the overall number one ranking in the Hogwarts Entrance Assessment before the start of the term.
Successfully be sorted into Slytherin House by the Sorting Hat."
"Quest Reward: Family Prestige Points +100, Galleons +5000, acquire [Magical Control (Intermediate)] magical skill experience."
"Quest Failure Penalty: The [Synthesis] function will be temporarily frozen until the completion of the next monthly quest, and your highest-level magical attribute will be permanently reduced by 30%."
The cold punishment mechanism, like a heavy blow, made a rare look of solemnity flash in Jerry's eyes. Losing the short-term use of [Synthesis] and permanently reducing a magical attribute by 30% would be a devastating blow to his carefully constructed growth system. All his current strength was built upon the absolute core importance of the [Synthesis] function.
He tore open the envelope, his eyes quickly scanning the parchment's contents. It was the Hogwarts Letter of Acceptance. A look of undisguised astonishment appeared on Jerry's face.
As the descendant of the pure-blood Dark Wizard Rosier family, the name Rosier was practically taboo in the Wizarding World following the downfall of Voldemort and the subsequent purging of Death Eaters. Theoretically, an institution like Hogwarts, dedicated to training orthodox wizards, should never issue an invitation to a Rosier child. This utterly subverted his understanding.
He instinctively closed his eyes and plunged his mind deep into his consciousness. A semi-transparent blue light screen appeared before him—his system attribute panel, visible only to him.
Host: Jerry Rosier
Family Prestige: 76
Synthesis: LV.6 (Can synthesize Novice magical items)
Magical Affinity: 25 (Normal)
Physique: 18 (Weak)
Spirit: 30 (Exceptional)
Talent: Unidentified
Current Quests: Hogwarts Entrance Assessment (Mandatory Monthly), Prelude to Taming the Little Wildcat (Side)
匯出到試算表
Jerry's gaze lingered on the "Family Prestige" column. He recalled the value jumped from 56 to 76 after completing the last quest. He never quite understood what "Family Prestige" represented, only vaguely feeling it brought some kind of "influence."
He concentrated and tapped the detailed description of "Family Prestige."
[Family Prestige: 70 (Above 50 point threshold, special event triggered)]
Description: Your Family Prestige has reached a certain level, allowing certain previously impossible events to take a favorable turn. Prestige points subtly influence key individuals related to you, causing their attitude and judgment toward you to shift.
Current Prestige Point Influence Target: Professor Minerva McGonagall
Influence Details: 50 Family Prestige Points have successfully reversed Professor Minerva McGonagall's existing prejudice against the Rosier family and given her strong support for your admission application.
Remark: Professor Minerva McGonagall is a beautiful and rigorous mature woman who has a particular fondness for the unique charm of high heels and stockings, but due to excessive spending, her daily expenses are often over budget, leading to frequent overspending (literally, 'Moonlight Girl').
When Jerry read the final "Remark," a look of astonishment surfaced on his young face. His small lips parted slightly, and a complex emotion flashed in his eyes. The system's influence was incredibly specific, even accurately presenting McGonagall's personal preferences.
Beautiful mature woman, high heels, stockings... these words quickly constructed an image of Professor Minerva McGonagall in his mind, not the strict Transfiguration professor, but a woman with a hint of sexuality and mature charm.
He had to admit, the system's description of "influence" was surprisingly candid, even explicit, and unexpected. So-called "reversing prejudice" and "strong support" were manifesting with this underlying, hidden context. This gave him a deeper understanding of this world and the system's operation.
This meant that the Hogwarts admission was not an accident, but the result of the system operating in the shadows. His family prestige, like invisible threads, had quietly tugged at Minerva McGonagall's inner self.
Jerry's gaze returned to the Hogwarts Letter of Acceptance, his fingertips lightly tracing the thick parchment. The initial surprise had dissipated, replaced by a deep calculation and anticipation.
Hogwarts, Slytherin, Entrance Assessment First Place.
He put the letter away, a determined smile curving his lips.
Unlike children from ordinary wizarding families, the Rosier name meant he couldn't easily purchase all his necessities in Diagon Alley like other children.
Jerry walked to the massive fireplace in the main hall, carved from black marble. Above the mantelpiece hung the Rosier family crest—a silver serpent coiled around a withered rose. He grabbed a handful of dark green Floo powder from an exquisite silver box on the mantelpiece and stepped into the cold fireplace without hesitation.
"The Ministry of Magic, London." He pronounced the destination in a clear, steady child's voice.
The next second, a roar of green flames swallowed his small figure. After a dizzying, rapid journey, Jerry felt his feet hit solid ground, landing firmly. He gracefully brushed the ashes from his robes and looked up, surveying the center of power in the British Wizarding World.
The Ministry of Magic Atrium was spacious and magnificent. The dark, polished wooden floor shone, reflecting the constantly shifting golden magical symbols on the ceiling. The air was a mix of old parchment and some kind of cleaning spell. The hurried footsteps and low conversations of wizards echoed all around.
Jerry ignored the curious glances directed at him—a child appearing alone—and walked straight to the Public Affairs Inquiry Desk. Behind the counter sat a middle-aged witch with half-moon spectacles and a rigid expression. Her head down, processing a pile of files, she asked without looking up, "May I help you?"
"I'm here to purchase a ticket for the Hogwarts Express." Jerry handed over the admission letter.
The witch impatiently took the letter and scanned it distractedly. However, when her eyes caught the recipient's name on the envelope, her movement visibly paused.
"Jerry Rosier?" She looked up, her eyes sharp behind her lenses, scrutinizing the boy before her. Her tone carried unconcealed vigilance and distaste. "A Rosier?"
"Yes, ma'am," Jerry replied calmly, as if oblivious to the hostility in her voice.
The witch's expression soured. She flipped the letter over and over, as if trying to find signs of forgery. She muttered under her breath, "This is preposterous, how could Hogwarts..."
She eventually picked up her wand and tapped a crystal ball on the desk. A light screen appeared, showing the list of this year's new students. The witch's finger slid across the screen, and soon, her movement stopped again, her face showing an even deeper look of confusion.
Jerry's name was clearly listed. Not only that, but next to his name was a special authorization emblem personally signed by Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts.
"Professor McGonagall's... personal authorization?" The witch's voice was filled with disbelief. She repeatedly confirmed the unique, elegantly scripted signature, ultimately forced to accept the reality. Although she couldn't understand why the esteemed Professor McGonagall would greenlight the descendant of a notorious Death Eater family, Ministry regulations forbade her from questioning it.
"Alright... all... procedures are complete." She retrieved a brand-new, deep red ticket from a drawer, handing it to Jerry with stiff movements, as if the ticket were a hot potato. "Here is your ticket. September 1st, King's Cross Station, Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Don't be late."
"Thank you, ma'am." Jerry took the ticket and nodded politely. He could clearly sense the scrutiny and confusion in the witch's eyes, but he paid it no mind.
He turned to leave, his small figure disappearing into the bustling crowd of the Ministry. His fingertips traced the smooth ticket. Jerry's heart was calm.
Just as he was about to walk toward the fireplace to leave via the Floo network, a sharp, jarring commotion erupted from the other end of the Atrium, instantly shattering the Ministry's orderly atmosphere.
"Give us back our gold! You incompetent wizards!"
"Gringotts' honor has been stained! The Ministry must be held accountable!"
Jerry looked over. A group of Goblins were emotionally confronting several Ministry officials trying to maintain order. The leader was an old Goblin with a few braids in its beard, its eyes flashing with a mix of anger and greed. They shouted in Goblin and broken, high-pitched English, protesting a recent, severe robbery at Gringotts and accusing the Ministry of incompetence for failing to catch the criminal.
The surrounding wizards stopped, whispering and pointing at the angry Goblins. The Ministry officials appeared flustered, repeatedly attempting bureaucratic appeasement, which clearly only added fuel to the fire.
Jerry watched the scene with interest, a cold, calculating smirk unfitting for his age appearing on his young face. He, of course, knew who was responsible for the robbery. The chaos before him was merely a small aftershock of his little "delivery."
Amidst the commotion, a sharp and familiar aura made him pause. He looked up, seeing a squad of wizards in deep blue Auror uniforms marching quickly from the other end of the Atrium. Leading them was the tall, commanding female captain.
Her stride was efficient and powerful, her highly polished Dragon-hide boots clicking crisply and rhythmically on the polished floor. The immaculate uniform was tailored to show off her taut curves, outlining the powerful physique of a mature woman. The hem of her robes swayed with her movement, occasionally revealing the black stockings wrapped around her long legs, shimmering faintly under the magical lamps—sexy yet radiating inviolable authority.
Her face showed a hint of fatigue, but her blue eyes were still sharp as a hawk's, scanning everyone around her. When her gaze inadvertently swept over Jerry, her steps instinctively slowed for a moment.
The female Auror Captain's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. Was it a hallucination?
The boy before her looked no older than eleven or twelve, with soft blonde hair and a refined, aristocratic face. He wore well-tailored robes, his expression calm, even with a hint of childlike innocence, politely waiting to use the Floo network. However, in that instant their eyes met, she caught something cold and profound in the depths of his black eyes, something that did not belong to his age.
That look...
Her heart inexplicably tightened. A scene she considered the shame of her life surged uncontrollably from her memory—the mysterious Dark Wizard, an adult man, his eyes hidden in the shadow of his hood, had also revealed that same cold, all-knowing look.
Impossible! The Captain immediately dismissed the absurd notion. That man was powerful, evil, and used depraved methods—an undeniable adult Dark Wizard. The boy before her, Jerry Rosier, was just a child who had just received his Hogwarts Letter of Acceptance. Age, height, physique, magical signature... none of it matched.
Perhaps, she rationalized, it was just the similar arrogance and indifference that flowed in the veins of all Rosiers. After all, how could a child who looked at most eleven possess such terrifying strength and ruthless cunning?
Jerry observed the female Captain's shifting expression, his inner world completely calm. He knew what she suspected, but his true age was the best protective color. He slightly turned, offering the Captain a polite smile, appropriate for his age, with a hint of curiosity, then turned away, as if he were just an ordinary young wizard in awe of a powerful Auror.
"Just a mistake?" She withdrew her gaze and quickly walked past Jerry with her subordinates. The efficient aura, mixed with leather and faint perfume, briefly brushed past him.
Jerry watched her tall figure disappear down the corridor, then lowered his smile, his eyes returning to their placid calmness. He didn't use the Floo network to go home as planned; instead, he turned toward another exit leading to Diagon Alley.
Jerry crossed the Leaky Cauldron's courtyard and stepped into the bustling Diagon Alley. He didn't go to buy textbooks or cauldrons first; he walked directly to the narrow, old wand shop—Ollivanders. He pushed the door open and waited, feigning curiosity and reverence for the proprietor to appear in the shop filled with magic and dust.
From the corner of his eye, through the dust-coated display window, he clearly caught sight of a familiar figure.
The dashing female Auror Captain had somehow separated from her subordinates and was standing alone on the street corner, pretending to browse the Quidditch Supplies shop window. But her sharp eyes periodically locked onto the entrance of Ollivanders through the gaps in the crowd.
Jerry smirked inwardly. It seemed that after he left the Ministry of Magic, she had indeed checked his identity. Jerry Rosier—that surname was enough to trigger the highest-level alert for any dutiful Auror, even if he was just an eleven-year-old child.
He went through the process of choosing a wand without showing any emotion, and, holding a wand made of holly and phoenix feather, he stepped out of the shop. He didn't immediately move to the next location. Instead, like a real child, he was drawn to a shop selling magical pets, staring at the window for a long time.
Sure enough, the Captain also moved, stopping in front of a bookstore, pretending to flip through a copy of Advanced Potion-Making.
The bait had been taken. Now, it was time to reel in the net.
Jerry turned and walked toward "Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions" diagonally across the street. He pushed the door open. The shop's warm purple tones and the gentle sound of measuring tapes fluttering made the atmosphere comfortable. The kindly Madam Malkin was enthusiastically assisting another new student.
Jerry waited quietly. A few minutes later, as he stepped onto the fitting stool, the door with the bell jingled and was pushed open again.
The female Auror Captain walked in. She seemed to be trying to make her surveillance appear more natural, her face bearing a "just browsing" expression as her gaze swept over the displayed robes.
Madam Malkin immediately recognized her, her face beaming with surprise and respect: "Oh, Merlin's beard! Isn't this Madam Mina, the finest in our Department of Magical Law Enforcement? What brings you here today?"
A slight awkwardness flashed across the Captain's face, but she still nodded politely: "Good afternoon, Madam Malkin. I'm just... looking around."
Just then, Jerry, standing on the fitting stool, turned around. He looked at her with an expression slightly timid yet hopeful, his clear child's voice ringing out perfectly:
"Hello, are you an Auror?" His voice was filled with a child's adoration for heroes. "Um... excuse me, could you possibly help me? My guardian isn't here, and I... I'm not sure which style of robes is best for a new student at Hogwarts."
He placed himself in the most harmless, most vulnerable position, actively inviting the hunter.
The Captain's expression froze instantly. She looked at the boy before her, his small face tilted up, his eyes shining with innocent light, and for a moment, she didn't know how to respond. All her suspicion and vigilance seemed absurd and ridiculous in the face of his pure and direct request.
Almost simultaneously, the cold system prompt sounded abruptly in Jerry's mind.
[Ding! Daily Quest has refreshed!]
[Quest Name: The Actor's Self-Cultivation]
[Quest Objective: In the following interaction, completely dispel the female Auror Captain's suspicions about you, making her believe you are merely a harmless, hero-worshipping ordinary boy.]
[Quest Reward: Family Prestige +10.]
[Failure Penalty: Your identity will be reported to the Ministry's Security Office, officially classified as a high-risk surveillance subject, triggering the prerequisite for 'Juvenile Fugitive.']