Potter! Are You Very Pleased with Yourself!

There are no girls prettier than Phoebe at Hogwarts?

If we say this next year, perhaps that statement will still be true.

After all, Veratia and Cassandra have graduated, Phoebe will be in a situation where "when the cat's away, the mice will play."

The problem is, Cassandra hasn't graduated yet this year.

"She's so beautiful—"

Viktor's companion looked at Cassandra with rapturous admiration and said...

From the very beginning, she was very dissatisfied with Phoebe's words.

What, you think you're so great that you believe there's no woman prettier than you at Hogwarts?

However, due to her own lack of strength, she was unable to stand up and slap Phoebe in the face.

Cassandra's appearance now fills this void perfectly.

Heng,

Who says there aren't any beautiful girls at Hogwarts?

Here you are, you'll see it today.

Cassandra walked gracefully to Harry's side.

She looked at Harry's slightly dazed gaze with great satisfaction and reached out to pinch his cheek.

"I'm not too late, am I, Potter?"

"It's not late," Harry said, reaching for a chair. "Sit down. You must be starving after not eating all day. What would you like to eat? Just tap the table and say so, like this."

He demonstrated by ordering a glass of Pumpkin Juice.

"I've already eaten," Cassandra said with a slight smile.

As a lady, it would be somewhat impolite to eat in such an occasion, so she had eaten something simple to fill her empty stomach before setting off.

She held her head high and gave a queenly glance at Phoebe, who was staring at her, before a fiercely aggressive smile appeared on her face.

Viktor's dance partner, witnessing this scene, was already mentally turning into a groundhog.

Yes! That's it! Your Majesty!

I have never loved Slytherin as much as I do today!

The banquet on the sidelines continued, and by the time Cassandra sat down, most of her classmates could no longer see her, so they lowered their heads and continued to feast on the food in front of them.

Harry looked around, and when his gaze fell on Viktor, he saw that the other man was giving him a thumbs up.

The meaning is quite clear: it's a man praising another man.

"Wow, bro, you actually managed to snag such a beautiful girl. "Harry smiled back at him and picked up the Pumpkin Juice from the table.

"Where's Veratia?" Harry asked casually, sipping his Pumpkin Juice. "Didn't they say they were coming to the ball?"

"What?" Cassandra scoffed. "One dance partner isn't enough? Are you really planning to invite three partners to the Hogwarts Christmas Ball at the same time?"

Such explosive gossip made even Phoebe a little jealous.

Three dance partners?

I'll fuck you!

Roger Davis took a deep breath.

Having such a beautiful Miss Malfoy as your dance partner isn't enough, you actually want other dance partners! Three of them!

It's like some people are dying of drought while others are drowning in floods!

Comparing people is a recipe for disaster; comparing goods is a recipe for discarding them.

That's outrageous!

"Oh," Harry waved his hand casually. "Nothing, just concerned about them."

He muttered to himself, "This Pumpkin Juice is a bit too sweet."

Soon after everyone had finished eating, Dumbledore stood up and told the other students to stand up as well.

Then he waved his wand, and some of the tables flew to the wall, leaving an empty space in the middle. He then conjured up a tall stage, which was placed against the right wall, on which sat a drum set, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and several organs.

At that moment, the Weird Sisters rushed onto the stage, and the audience erupted in thunderous applause.

Their hair was exceptionally thick, and they wore black robes that were deliberately torn to shreds.

They picked up their instruments, presumably to tune them, and produced a sharp, piercing sound.

Suddenly, all the lanterns on the table went out, and at the same time, Viktor and Phoebe, along with their respective dance partners, stood up.

"It's time to start dancing, Potter," Viktor said gravely.

Harry then put down his Pumpkin Juice glass, stood up, and reached out his hand to Cassandra.

"Beautiful lady," Harry said in a strange tone, "Would I have the honor of inviting you to dance?"

His answer came from Cassandra's outstretched little hand.

Even through the white lace gloves, Harry could still feel the softness of the little hand.

At this point, Harry suddenly became a little nervous.

Cassandra noticed her partner's nervousness and whispered in his ear, "Don't worry, Potter— just like before. Remember how I used to teach you to dance?"

Yes, that's true, but that happened a hundred years ago.

Just then, the Weird Sisters began to play a slow, melancholic tune.

Harry and Cassandra walked together into the brightly lit dance floor. Cassandra held one of his hands in one hand and placed the other hand on her waist.

"Not as fine as Grindelwald's, right?"

Harry could clearly hear her resentment when she said that.

ha·.-·

That Grindelwald woman—

On what grounds?

Why is her waist so abnormally thin?

But she clearly overlooked another point: Veratia not only had a thinner waist than her, but her bra size was also four sizes larger.

"You didn't give me a present, Christmas present."

Harry began to change the subject, speaking softly.

The two of them danced together on the dance floor to the music.

"Oh, really?" Cassandra snorted. "Don't worry, Potter— I've got a gift for you."

"What is it?" Harry asked in a low voice.

"You should be more composed, don't be so hasty," Cassandra said softly. "Look, your steps are getting a little shaky—oh dear, you little rascal!"

She gasped because Harry had stepped on her little leather shoe.

"Sorry, sorry," Harry apologized quickly. "I didn't mean to—" "Never mind, you've always been clumsy, Potter," Cassandra said softly. "Just like when I first met you, you were just like that—clumsy, unable to do anything right, weren't you?"

"How do you know I'm still clumsy?" Harry retorted.

"I am—"

Cassandra stopped talking abruptly halfway through her sentence.

A suspicious blush suddenly rose on her face.

Um·--

As is well known, Harry is quite skilled in magic.

But he's always been a bit of a slacker, and now he's actually using magic to slip his hand inside Cassandra's clothes and place it on Cassandra lower back without any obstruction.

"Really?" he asked softly. "Am I really that clumsy?"

"Yes, a little bit," Cassandra said, blushing.

Harry didn't push his luck; he was simply enjoying the moment of tenderness.

It must be admitted that Cassandra's skin feels better than the most precious silk in the world.

It is warm, soft, and incredibly smooth.

Harry gently stroked her skin with his hand while looking around over Cassandra's shoulder.

Neville and Ginny were dancing nearby—he could see Ginny frequently frowning and dodging because Neville had stepped on her foot— Dumbledore was waltzing with an old woman he didn't recognize. To be honest, Harry felt that Dumbledore's dance partner looked very familiar, but he couldn't remember where he had seen her before.

Mad-Eye Moody awkwardly danced a two-step with Professor Sinistra, Professor Sinistra nervously dodged his wooden prosthetic leg.

Meanwhile, Hagrid was dancing with Madame Maxime. Madame Maxime, nestled affectionately in her arms, gazing at Madame Maxime with deep affection, while his other hand quietly moved down.

I never knew Hagrid was like this!

Harry suddenly felt that a certain image of Hagrid in his mind had shattered in an instant.

So.--

Should I learn from Hagrid?

This is indeed a behavior worth learning.

Thinking this, Harry moved his hand down from inside his clothes.

Unfortunately, he forgot to take it out of his clothes.

Cassandra's neck could no longer support her small head, and her entire head pressed against Harry's shoulder, skin to skin. Harry could even feel the rising heat from her cheek.

"Are you... are you trying to die?" Cassandra threatened, her voice trembling. "There are so many people here, move your hand up!"

"Huh?" Harry asked, feigning ignorance. "You mean, if it's just the two of us, it'll be fine?"

"You—." Cassandra opened her mouth and bit Harry's neck.

"Really?" Harry persisted, his words clearly more playful than flirtatious, a fact Harry was well aware of.

"Hurry up—" Cassandra's breathing became more rapid.

"So tell me, is it permissible for me to do this privately?" Harry asked.

"Mmm—" Cassandra hummed nasally, "Okay—. Okay—"

Harry then placed his hands back on Cassandra's waist and continued dancing with a smile.

"Well then," Harry said again, "I think we should change how we address each other— 'Potter ' really doesn't suit our relationship."

Cassandra didn't answer; she was still embarrassed and angry, wishing she could bite Harry's shoulder hard.

"Ugh, you're not saying anything," Harry said helplessly. "If you keep this up, believe me, I'll—"

"Potter!" Cassandra suddenly craned her neck, glaring angrily at Harry. "Aren't you feeling pretty smug?!"

Harry was indeed quite pleased with himself; this was one of the few times he had managed to get Cassandra under his control.

Oh, not really.

Ever since the Maid Incident, Harry has had a particular aggression towards Cassandra in certain ways.

Almost as soon as she attacked, Cassandra was thrown into disarray.

"It's alright." Harry once again found Cassandra's weak spot.

Cassandra straightened her slender waist immediately and leaned against Harry's shoulder again, as if she were boneless.

"Let's sit down, okay?" she asked almost pleadingly, as she was really getting tired of standing.

"Oh—but—this piece is very nice!" Harry said, just as the Weird Sisters began to play a new piece, much faster than before.

"I can't stand up anymore, Potter— " Cassandra pleaded in a barely audible voice.

"Bear with it!" Harry pulled his hand away and patted Cassandra's slender waist.

Seeing that Harry disagreed, Cassandra had no choice but to collapse into Harry's arms, relying entirely on Harry support to keep from falling to the ground.

"Let's dance for a bit," Harry continued. "You didn't bring me Christmas present, and you won't dance with me, which makes me really angry."

"I've prepared it for you!" Cassandra whispered hysterically, her voice trembling with tears.

"Really?" Harry said incredulously. "I don't see your gift. Where's your sincerity? I don't see it!"

"I... I didn't bring it—" Cassandra said softly, "but you'll find out tonight—you'll know what the present is—now, shall we go rest on the sidelines? I'm really tired—"

"You're already tired after just one dance—" Harry said, feigning displeasure. "I see you still don't want to dance with me. I'll just call Veratia then—..."

At this point, Harry realized that continuing like this was going too far, and it wouldn't be good if Cassandra had a negative reaction.

Then he changed the subject.

"Of course, if you'd like to change how you address me and stop calling me ' Potter,' we can go rest for a bit."

"Change—change it to what?" Cassandra's previously dazed eyes suddenly sharpened.

She was really starting to lose her balance; that damn Potter was really something else!

How could I have ever fallen for such a little rascal?

but.-

And she is indeed quite likable.

"That's up to you," Harry said softly. "What do you think I'd like to be called?"

Cassandra forced her already overloaded brain to overclock, and after a long pause, almost short-circuited, she asked, "How about—call me Daddy?"

"Huh?" Harry asked, taken aback.

The young man immediately stood at attention.

Quiet, I'm thinking.

No, sis.

What the hell is this "Dad" thing?!

Cassandra realized what she had just said, so she quickly corrected herself, "No, I misspoke—I meant—how about we call you Harry, like Grindelwald and the others?"

"That's fine, but don't you think it's a bit repetitive?" Harry whispered in Cassandra's ear. "You can call me that normally, but what should you call me when we're alone?"

Cassandra's brain overloaded again.

"Call me—call me Master?" she asked in a sweet voice, "Just like—um, just like that day, okay—"

"Yes, that works too." Harry really liked the nickname, especially the contrast it brought about in terms of their social status.

You should know that a hundred years ago, he and Cassandra were Master-Servant —of course, Cassandra was the master, and he was the servant.