The room of the Patil twins, Parvati and Padma, was unusually ornate, resembling a small palace. But at this moment, it was in utter chaos.
Gorgeous gowns, exquisite jewelry boxes, and jars of sweet-smelling powders cluttered their beds and desks. The air was thick with perfume and the sweet scent unique to young girls, mixed with a hint of nervous excitement.
The twins naturally saw this Thanksgiving banquet as one of the most important events of the year—a prime opportunity to showcase their family status and personal charm.
"This silk one, or the one inlaid with pearls?" Parvati held up a sapphire blue sari covered in sequins, then looked at the creamy white gown dotted with tiny pearls hanging on the wardrobe door, her eyes full of indecision.
Her sister, Padma, rested her chin on one hand while the other rummaged through a mountain of jewelry, muttering "Hmm..." and "Oh..." thoughtfully.
"The blue one is too flashy; it'll steal Mom's thunder," Padma said without looking up, as if stating a fact. "Besides, the creamy white one is more elegant and shows off our refinement. But the jewelry can't be too plain."
She laid out several hairpins inlaid with rubies and emeralds in front of Parvati, then picked up a necklace of tiny diamonds, holding it against her neck with a look of girlish coquettishness and arrogance.
"Look at these."
Padma casually picked out a few pieces from the pile.
These were the treasures they had "received" from Jerry. Each piece was exquisitely crafted, far surpassing the collections of ordinary Pure-blood families in both material and design. Some rare magical gems even made their father take notice.
In a way, these treasures Jerry had so casually "gifted" were tailor-made for such grand public occasions. Low-key yet luxurious, understated yet undeniably noble, they perfectly embodied their family's mysterious heritage.
Padma chose a platinum necklace with a pendant that glowed faintly in the dark, emitting a weak magical pulse. The cold touch made her shiver as she put it on, but the chill was soon replaced by warmth against her skin.
She turned to look at herself in the mirror, satisfaction in her eyes. "This necklace is beautiful," she whispered, then turned to Parvati. "Parvati, wear the ruby hairpin. It will go perfectly with your creamy white dress."
Parvati took the hairpin and held it against her hair. The translucent ruby was brilliant, complementing her dark hair and making her skin look snowy white. She smiled, satisfied. "Thanks to Jerry, or else where would we get so many good things?"
Hearing Parvati's naive words, Padma sneered dismissively, as if she had heard the biggest joke. She turned gracefully, admiring the glowing gem on her neck in the mirror, her tone full of haughty arrogance.
"Thanks to him?" Padma huffed, her voice crisp as a bell yet laced with meanness. "Parvati, have you forgotten? He didn't 'gift' us these things out of the kindness of his heart. We 'exchanged' them from him with our own charm and methods!"
Parvati choked on her sister's words, a trace of unnaturalness flashing across her face.
Padma ignored her sister's embarrassment. She stroked the blue gem on her chest with slender fingers, a playful smile on her lips. "Besides, look at him. Always with a straight face, as if the whole world owes him millions of Galleons. If he didn't have good stuff we could use, I wouldn't bother pretending to be a docile kitten in front of him! People like him probably really think we were conquered by his 'charm', right?"
"You're right, Padma." Parvati turned to her sister, her tone turning teasing. "Let's make good use of these 'spoils' at the banquet tonight and open the eyes of those bumpkins."
The sisters exchanged a smile full of tacit understanding and calculation. In their eyes, Jerry was just a stepping stone to higher social status, a tool to be used and discarded at will. Tonight's Thanksgiving banquet was the perfect stage to show off their "harvest" to the entire wizarding world.
Just as they were about to pack the last piece of jewelry, Padma's fingers touched something cold and smooth at the bottom of the pile. She paused, pulling it out and placing it in her palm.
It was a jeweled butt plug Jerry had "gifted" them before. Faint magical fluctuations still lingered on the gem's surface, reminding them this was no ordinary toy.
Parvati's arrogant smile froze, then curled into a meaningful arc. She remembered the last time Padma had suddenly and roughly shoved this plug into her. It had gone straight to the deepest point, making her legs go weak with pain, nearly dropping her to her knees. Now, it was back.
Padma clearly remembered the same thing. She looked down at the plug, licking her lower lip, her voice provocative. "Since it's out... why not decorate a bit more? There will be so many people at the banquet tonight. Watching us walk elegantly, who would know what we're plugged with?"
Parvati narrowed her eyes, smiling even more viciously than her sister. "Good idea. But this time, I'll plug you."
Padma didn't refuse. She hummed, turned, and bent over the bed, lifting her creamy dress to her waist to reveal long white legs and round buttocks clad in pure white panties. She deliberately spread her legs and stuck her butt out, a silent challenge.
Parvati didn't rush. She hooked a finger on the edge of her sister's panties and slowly pulled them down. Padma's buttocks clenched slightly in tension, the tender skin flushing pink.
Parvati licked the plug, coating the gem with saliva, making wet tsk-tsk sounds. Then she knelt behind her sister, spreading Padma's left cheek with one hand, her thumb pressing hard on the soft flesh to fully expose the entrance. Her other hand held the base of the plug, pressing the cold gem tip against her sister's tight ring.
"Relax, little sister," Parvati said with a smile that hid malicious intent. "You weren't this gentle when you plugged me last time."
Giving Padma no time to react, she thrust her hips and wrist forward. The tip of the plug squeezed into the tight opening with a squelch, pushing in inch by inch with the help of slick saliva.
Padma's body jerked, a suppressed moan escaping her throat. Her legs tried to close but were forced open by Parvati's knee.
"Don't clamp. It hurts more if you clamp."
Parvati deliberately slowed down, letting the gem stretch her sister's entrance bit by bit, enjoying the tightness of the forced expansion. When the plug reached its widest point, Padma's buttocks trembled visibly, the flesh around the entrance turning white from the stretch, making soft guchi wet sounds.
Finally, the entire plug was submerged, leaving only the silver base outside, pressed tightly against Padma's cleft.
Parvati patted her sister's butt with satisfaction, watching the flesh ripple, then stood up. "Your turn, big sister."
"No... Padma, stop!" Parvati's face finally showed panic. The pleasure of revenge faded quickly under her sister's ruthless gaze, replaced by a premonition of backlash. She tried to retreat, but Padma was faster and more determined.
Ignoring her pleas, Padma wore a cruel, vengeful smile. With even rougher force than Parvati had used, she grabbed her sister's wrist and wrapped her other arm around Parvati's waist, lifting her up and slamming her onto the desk full of jewelry boxes.
Bang!
Parvati's upper body hit the desk hard, knocking over several open boxes and scattering jewelry everywhere. The cold desk and hard wooden edge hurt her chest, but her sister's irresistible strength terrified her more.
"Weren't you smug just now, sister?" Padma's voice was low, her hot breath hitting Parvati's ear. "Now have a taste yourself."
Padma jammed her knee into the crook of Parvati's leg, preventing her from straightening up and forcing her to maintain the shameful posture with her butt high in the air. Then she pressed her forearm across Parvati's back, pinning her down with her full weight.
Parvati twisted, trying to break free, but Padma was steady as a mountain.
"Let me go! Padma! I don't want to!" Parvati's struggles grew weak, her voice tearful.
"Don't want to?" Padma sneered. Her free hand found an open bottle of lubricating potion. She uncorked it and poured the sticky liquid onto her palm with a glug, then poured the rest directly between Parvati's tensed butt cheeks.
The cold lube flowed down the crack to her thighs, making wet sounds. Parvati shivered, her glutes clenching reflexively, which only squeezed the liquid deeper.
Padma's hand, coated in slick fluid, covered Parvati's entire buttock. She kneaded the voluptuous flesh like dough, feeling the subtle tremors of shame and resistance under her palm. The lube made squish squish sounds as her hand slid.
"You're... much tighter than me here."
Padma pressed two lube-covered fingers together and aimed unceremoniously at Parvati's tightly closed flower. No foreplay—she just shoved them in.
"Mmh!" Parvati arched like she was burned, but pinned down, she couldn't escape.
The fingers forced open the tight petals and drilled in. A second finger followed. Squelch, squelch... the sounds of wet flesh being stretched were clear.
"So wet, sister," Padma mocked in her ear, pumping her fingers rapidly to make guchi guchi noises, while picking up the lube-covered plug with her other hand. "Now, time for this."
She withdrew her fingers and, before the stretched opening could close, pressed the cold, hard tip of the plug against it.
"No!" Parvati let out a short scream.
Padma gave her no chance. Pressing down harder on her back, she thrust her hips and wrist forward.
Zzzzt!
Like a slippery loach drilling into mud, the plug, carried by ample lube and juices, squeezed open the tender flesh and sank halfway in. The massive foreign object made Parvati twitch violently. She whimpered, scratching at the desk and making the scattered jewelry clatter.
The entrance was forced open to its limit, the surrounding flesh everting. Fluid squeezed out around the plug, mixing with trapped air to make pop, pop sounds.
"Can't take it already?"
Padma licked her lips, eyes shining with excitement. Enjoying her sister's humiliation, she pushed down harder again.
Thud!
With a muffled sound of penetration, the plug went all the way in. The silver base hit Parvati's buttocks with a smack, firmly locking the stretched flesh in place.
Parvati let out a strangled cry. her legs went soft, and if not for Padma pinning her, she would have collapsed. She lay on the desk twitching like a dehydrated fish, the foreign sensation so intense she felt split in half.
Padma released her, admiring her "masterpiece." The bare buttocks were pert, the silver glint between the cheeks looking exceptionally lewd in the dim light. She slapped the twitching flesh hard, the crisp sound echoing. "Alright, sister, we're even now."
Parvati turned with difficulty, gasping. Her face, red with humiliation and shame, now wore a provocative look.
"Even?" Her voice was hoarse, tinged with disdain. "You think this makes us even? Padma, you're too naive."
She stared at Padma with malicious intent. "Since we've 'enjoyed' ourselves so much, why not play bigger?" Parvati smirked evilly. "There will be many people at the Thanksgiving banquet tonight. Let's bet on who gets discovered first, or who makes a fool of themselves because they can't hold this thing in. The loser gives all their jewelry to the winner."
Hearing this, Padma's cunning eyes lit up like a predator spotting prey. She knew Parvati was no pushover; the bet was tempting and dangerous, which attracted her.
Padma examined Parvati's tense butt line and trembling legs. She smiled playfully, tapping Parvati's lips. "Interesting, sister. But if you lose, no crying."
"Whoever cries is a puppy," Parvati huffed. Though still trembling, her tone didn't waver. She had quickly adapted to the shame of violation, even finding a thrill in it.
Their gazes locked, sparks flying silently.
"It's a deal then."
Padma extended her hand, clasping Parvati's. The touch of their fingertips carried a cold magical fluctuation, sealing an ancient pact.
The sisters began to slowly clean up the mess. Jewelry was gathered, the lube bottle capped. They checked each other, ensuring no obvious traces remained of their secret "ritual."
Parvati struggled into her creamy white gown. The smooth silk and cotton lining rubbed against her panties, which were stretched tighter by the plug, creating a strange friction.
Padma put on the platinum necklace. She deliberately didn't check her appearance again, knowing that losing would be a failure more complete than any nudity.
"Ready, sister?" Padma raised an eyebrow.
"Anytime."
Parvati took a deep breath, trying to calm the weird impulse and foreign sensation inside her. Holding the bedpost, she tried walking a few steps. With each step, she felt the plug sway slightly inside her, rubbing against her sensitive rectal walls, sending waves of subtle numbness.
She bit her lip, vowing silently that no matter what, she wouldn't embarrass herself tonight. She would win every piece of jewelry from her clown of a sister.
Meanwhile, Jerry had been busier than ever these past few days—perhaps the busiest of his life.
Since taking over the Rosier family's centuries-dormant legacy, he had been spinning like a top. He decoded the complete assembly line blueprints and golem-making techniques from the Crystal Golem core—ready-made, saving him research time. The rare crystals, magical metals, and core mana sources needed were purchased in bulk on the black market with Galleons.
Of course, some critically important materials were handed over to Meiting Kim, as per their conditions. But the woman still hadn't agreed to let him meet her boss.
Jerry wasn't anxious. Without the license, rushing was useless. Professor McGonagall had hinted that she'd done all she could; the matter was stuck with Amelia. The Thanksgiving banquet was approaching, and Amelia would be there. Jerry planned to negotiate with her then.
Even so, Jerry barely slept. Rebuilding a workshop capable of massive production was far more tedious than he imagined. Site selection, construction, mana pipe laying, defensive rune engraving, secrecy spells—he had to oversee everything personally.
Initially, he considered building it at Blackwing Manor, but he and Katherine quickly vetoed that. Blackwing Manor was his final, most secret fortress, absolutely off-limits to outsiders. A massive Crystal Golem workshop would attract surveillance from the Ministry, Gringotts, and other Pure-blood families. Putting it at Blackwing Manor would be inviting spies into his core sanctuary.
After much discussion, they settled on a compromise: renting a long-abandoned factory on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. The village had high traffic, so an inconspicuous factory wouldn't draw much attention. Plus, its proximity to Hogwarts made the location and magical environment ideal.
After renting it, Jerry and Katherine began renovations. They layered Confundus Charms and Repelling Charms around the perimeter. Then, Jerry used his family's Undetectable Extension Charm to expand the interior into a space several Quidditch pitches large.
For the next few days, Jerry worked tirelessly. He drew complex mana conduction arrays to distribute earth-vein mana to each production line and carved thousands of defensive and concealment runes on the walls and ceiling.
This intense schedule left him little time for Hogwarts trivia. His days were filled with blueprints, material lists, and magical contracts. Often, he only remembered to eat when Katherine brought food to his mouth. Creating a massive industry single-handedly gave him unprecedented fulfillment, but also immense pressure and fatigue.
Fortunately, he wasn't fighting alone. Aside from Professor McGonagall and Uncle Snape helping out, Lily Potter would offer suggestions when delivering materials at night. Additionally, Elania, the Elf Princess, nominally joined the "help."
Her main goal was actually to urge Jerry to hire House-elves. Since trying instant noodles, she had been enthusiastic about them, inventing new ways to eat them. But noodles were just noodles; after a few days, even an elf's tolerance wore thin.
With her golden hair loosely tied and strands falling over her forehead, she lounged on a conjured chair, her long white legs crossed comfortably. She wore only one of Jerry's shirts, her thighs visible beneath the hem in silk pajama shorts.
Currently, Jerry lay with his head in her lap, feeling the soft rise and fall of her chest, his mind racing to organize the complex assembly line modules. He was struggling with how to optimize the placement of these massive machines in the expanded space.
Just as the technical problems made his head spin, a rhythmic knock, knock, knock broke the rare silence.
Jerry stiffened, his thoughts interrupted. His eyes remained closed, but his massive spiritual power swept out like a tide through the defensive wards to scan outside. In an instant, his tired face took on a subtle expression of vigilance mixed with amusement.
"What is it?" Elania sensed his tension. She looked down, concern in her golden eyes.
Jerry didn't answer. He sighed almost inaudibly, then looked up and kissed her moist red lips. It was a comforting, lingering kiss.
"Go back first," he whispered in her ear, his tone gentle but unquestionable. "When I'm done, I'll bring you something good to eat."
Elania was bewildered by the kiss and command, but the gravity in his eyes silenced her. She got up, her figure twisting slightly in the air before vanishing into the depths of the factory like a golden beam, returning to Blackwing Manor via the hidden Floo network.
Confirming she was gone, Jerry walked to the main door. Without a wand, a mere flicker of his eyes opened the heavy metal door.
Outside stood a woman.
She wore deep blue velvet wizarding robes, tailored to accentuate her curves. Beneath the hem, long legs wrapped in black silk stockings stood tall in shiny black high heels, unstained by the mud. Her blonde hair was in an exquisite bun, her makeup perfect. Her bright blue eyes held a look of inquiry and scrutiny.
It was Hestia—or rather, the Pseudo-Olympian Queen Hera disguised as Hogwarts substitute professor Hestia.
Her scrutinizing blue eyes looked over Jerry's shoulder, examining the open entrance as if probing for secrets, then returned to his face.
"Student Jerry Rosier, sorry to intrude." Hera's voice was cool and elegant, with just the right amount of apology. "I'm preparing lesson plans for the first-year Defense Against the Dark Arts class and hoped to ask you some questions."
Her lips curled into a faint smile—the confidence and probing of a superior.
A glint of amusement flashed in Jerry's eyes. He knew she wasn't here for lesson plans. Her intense probing was transparent to him. But since the high-and-mighty Queen of Heaven deigned to descend and contact him like this, he didn't mind playing along.
"Professor Hestia is too polite; it's hardly asking for advice." Jerry stepped aside, gesturing an invitation with elegant composure, as if facing an ordinary teacher rather than a powerful pseudo-god. "If you don't mind the humbleness of this place, please come in. As for the lesson plans, perhaps I can offer some humble opinions."
Hera's blue eyes lingered on his face, searching for more emotion beneath his calm. Finding him composed, she nodded slightly and walked in on her high heels. Every step had a unique rhythm, the lines of her black-stockinged legs flowing in the light and shadow, alluring and dangerous.
Entering the factory, Hera's gaze swept the vast space. Despite Jerry's concealment spells, the visible equipment outlines, residual mana fluctuations, and glimpses of runes proved this was no ordinary place.
Hera's smile deepened, her interest growing. "Mr. Jerry Rosier, for a first-year student to have such attainments is breathtaking." She lightly touched a mana conduit covered in fine runes, as if admiring art. "No wonder Vice-Headmistress McGonagall favors you."
Jerry smiled faintly, not taking the bait, and steered the topic back. "You mentioned lesson plans, Professor. What seems to be the difficulty?"
They toured the workshop, discussing obscure magical theories. Jerry's profound insights made Hera's eyes light up. She felt his surging, restrained mana and the wisdom in his words. This excited her; she knew she hadn't chosen wrong.
Guided by Jerry, they reached a wide clearing. "If your Dueling class needs a demonstration, I'd be happy to oblige," Jerry offered.
Appreciation flashed in Hera's eyes. "That would be excellent. Young students always trust what they see. Your skills will surely impress them."
The conversation was pleasant. Jerry maintained a respectful yet distant attitude, keeping the perfect boundary. Hera remained the gentle, detached substitute professor.
After the tour, Jerry escorted Hera out. But as she crossed the threshold, her foot caught. Her body swayed, a soft cry escaping her lips as she tipped forward.
Instinctively, Jerry reached out and caught her soft waist. Through the velvet, he felt her slenderness and flexibility, the warmth seeping through.
As he steadied her, Jerry squatted down, gently holding her black-stockinged calf. His fingers landed perfectly on her ankle, kneading gently.
Hera trembled slightly, a suppressed, tiny moan spilling from her throat—wet, as if a hidden switch had been flipped. Her toes curled in her shoe, her calf muscles tensing under the silk before relaxing under his touch.
Squatting, Jerry was eye-level with her calves and knees. His trousers pulled tight at the crotch, outlining an astonishing contour far beyond his age. He smelled her scent—a mix of expensive perfume and a sweet, indescribable aroma.
From this angle, his gaze inevitably fell on her upper thighs. The robe's hem had lifted slightly, revealing underwear no ordinary witch would wear.
It wasn't a modern style, but something a goddess from ancient Roman frescoes might wear. Pure white silk edged with golden cords woven into patterns, hugging her voluptuous skin. The white silk and gold cords against the translucent black stockings were striking, exuding a classical, debauched beauty.
Jerry didn't stop massaging. His fingers pressed rhythmically on her ankle, the smooth silk making a soft swish like flowing water. His gaze rested openly on her upper thigh.
"Professor." Jerry's voice was calm, breaking the ambiguous silence. "Your underwear style is very unique."
Hera's breath hitched. She looked down at the boy at her feet. Jerry looked up, his eyes clear and deep, holding no lewdness, only pure appreciation like a connoisseur.
Meeting her gaze, he added, "It's very beautiful."
These three words were like a stone thrown into a calm lake, sending ripples through Hera's heart. She had seen countless men try to please her with crude words and greedy looks, but never one like Jerry, praising her most intimate garment with such calm frankness. This felt more like a strange thrill of being conquered than any naked compliment.
There was no filthy voyeurism in his eyes, just an artistic, discerning appreciation. A blush flew to Hera's cheeks, burning her ears. She moved her leg instinctively to cover herself, but Jerry's focus was so intense, his action so direct, that she felt an unprecedented, shameful yet bizarre stimulation.
"You... you child!" Hera lowered her eyes, her voice softening with a tremor she didn't notice. She dared not look into his clear, all-seeing eyes. When had the Queen of Olympus ever been stripped of her disguise by a mortal boy's pure gaze?
"Nonsense... cough, I mean, this is just... for teaching convenience, cough cough. You wouldn't understand."
"Is that so?"
"Then I have been rude."
"But it really is beautiful..."
Jerry massaged for a while longer until her ankle relaxed, then slowly let go and stood up. "No bone damage, just a slight sprain. Some white dew drops will fix it."
"Thank you, Student Rosier." Hera's voice regained its cool, but a deep, indescribable heat lingered in her blue eyes.
Jerry watched her walk away, her heels clicking until she vanished down the path. He slowly closed the heavy door.
The moment it shut, Jerry slid to the ground against the cold metal, drained of strength. He wiped his forehead, finding it soaked in cold sweat. His shirt clung clammily to his back.
That woman... Hera disguised as Hestia... every word and move was a carefully woven net of fatal temptation and probing. Her "accidental" fall, the perfect cry, the revealed underwear... everything was precise as a ruler.
This woman was terrifying enough to rival Dumbledore. No wonder she could hide seamlessly under everyone's noses.
Outside, Hera hadn't gone far. She stood at the corner of the path, a triumphant smile on her lips. She savored the boy's frank gaze, his steady movements, and the astonishing size beneath his trousers.
"What an interesting little fellow..." she whispered, her voice full of delight.
The swelling on her ankle vanished visibly. Humming an unknown tune, she walked briskly away on her high heels, leaving only dancing tree shadows behind.