Harry Potter: Returning from Hogwarts Legacy Chapter 322

Cassandra offered no resistance at all; in almost an instant, Harry effortlessly breached her ntal defenses.

This kind of Occluncy counterattack wasn’t like the Imperius Curse, which could build up resistance. Under the enhancent of ancient magic, even a natural-born master of Occluncy would easily fall for this brute-force approach, let alone Cassandra.

Even a certain Miss Grindelwald, who preferred to remain unnad, couldn’t withstand Harry’s sudden assault with this new spell.

And this mind control wasn’t the crude kind that erased one’s sense of self; instead, it preserved the person’s consciousness while implanting the caster’s objectives.

After another bout of dizziness, the two returned to that Potter’s Cottage (as Cassandra called it).

Cassandra was dazed for a mont before lifting her head to look at Harry.

"Potter..." she murmured softly.

"It seems..." Harry crossed his legs and sat in the chair, "you’ve forgotten your place, my Cass—"

Cassandra’s expression shifted slightly; she slowly closed her eyes, her long lashes trembling faintly.

"Master..."

"That’s more like it!" Harry said cheerfully. It seed his hard studying had paid off—practice brings power...

The suggestion he’d implanted in Cassandra was a maid directive.

In other words, Cassandra had now accepted her identity as Harry’s maid.

Smooth as silk.

"So, are you still wearing those clothes?" Harry glanced up and down at the unchanging Slytherin-style suit Cassandra had on and asked rhetorically.

"Understood, Master." Cassandra shyly lowered her head. "I’ll go get them right away..."

With that, she turned and left the room.

Harry scratched his head—had he overdone it?

Before he could even reflect on it, there was a knock at the door.

"Maid service."

"Co in," Harry said.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the door was pushed open.

Cassandra entered from outside, dressed in a maid outfit. Harry noticed she even had a black leather collar around her neck, complete with a little bell.

It should be said that English maid uniforms were the proper kind—the long-skirted version of the improper short-skirt style, with the hem extending past the knees and covering two-thirds of her calves.

Harry could only see a glimpse of her calves beneath the skirt, wrapped in black over-the-knee socks—graceful lines, perfectly proportioned.

However...

He was at a loss.

How should he start?

He suddenly missed Veratia a bit; if she were here, she’d have a hundred ways to tornt Cassandra.

As for Harry... he wasn’t like Veratia, with her belly full of mischief.

Seeing Harry make no move, Cassandra spoke up expressionlessly.

"Please give your orders as you wish, Master."

Harry looked up and t Cassandra’s eyes, which were filled with sha and anger.

The mont their gazes locked, Cassandra averted hers, trying not to et his eyes.

"What’s wrong?" Harry asked with concern.

"Nothing." Cassandra didn’t know why she’d suddenly beco that rotten Potter’s maid, but since it had happened, she wasn’t entirely opposed to it.

After all, back then she’d tornted that rotten kid Potter plenty, so letting him turn the tables was sort of...

At that mont, a plate full of fruit suddenly appeared on the table.

No need to guess—it had to be Dobby sneaking it over.

Harry didn’t know why Dobby would send a fruit platter, but he knew this was the perfect ti to use it.

"Feed so fruit, Cass," Harry commanded without hesitation.

Cassandra extended her small hands, gloved in white velvet, and used a fork to pick up a piece of apple, bringing it to Harry’s mouth.

Harry moved his lips and pulled the apple into his mouth.

Say what you will, it was pretty sweet.

He wasn’t sure if it was an illusion, but this apple tasted much sweeter than usual.

Of course, Harry had done this kind of thing plenty before—from his first year, when he’d been bribed with money and beco Cassandra’s lackey. Whenever Cassandra was reading or lounging in a chair for a nap, Harry always had to serve her fruit by her side.

Now the tables had turned.

But at the mont, Harry felt no discomfort; he just felt incredibly happy, incredibly satisfied.

A bit like a serf rising up and singing his song.

But this obviously wasn’t enough; Harry felt he should push a little further.

On one hand, to test the limits of the mind control; on the other, to take full advantage of the opportunity while he could.

Miss this chance, and there might not be another—who knew when the next one would co?

"Co here," Harry commanded again.

Cassandra looked at him in confusion, a question mark practically floating above her head.

"Co here." Harry beckoned to her. "That’s an order!"

At the word "order," Cassandra’s gaze sharpened, and she walked to Harry’s side.

Without looking up, Harry thought for a mont and commanded again: "Sit here."

For a split second, Cassandra took a deep breath.

But she still pursed her thin lips and obediently sat on Harry’s lap.

However, her ragged breathing and trembling body betrayed the turmoil in her heart.

Harry genuinely hadn’t expected Cassandra to obediently follow his command; he’d thought she might suddenly resist.

It had to be said, the girl’s body was warm and soft, brimming with youthful vitality—especially when Cassandra turned her head away, her hair brushing against the tip of Harry’s nose, the fragrance of her tresses intoxicating him.

"Is this alright? Master?"

Cassandra’s voice ca out a bit stiffly.

You could tell she was uncomfortable, awkward in her current situation.

"Um, ahem..." Harry coughed twice to cover his unease, but his hand mischievously rested on Cassandra’s thigh.

Of course, as a gentleman, Harry’s hand didn’t wander; it simply rested on Cassandra’s thigh.

Even through the skirt, he could feel the astonishing bounciness of her rounded thigh.

The two sat there in stalemate; who knew how much ti passed before Cassandra suddenly broke the silence.

"Shall I feed you so more fruit?"

"Sure," Harry said with a grin. "But—don’t use the fork."

"Then what should I use?" Cassandra asked in confusion.

"Well..." Harry lifted one hand from Cassandra’s thigh, wrapped it around her waist, picked a cherry from the fruit plate, and held it in his mouth, gesturing to her: "Like this—you bite it and feed ..."

However, her response was ice-cold.

"Are you eating or not?"

Harry straightened up like a soldier at attention.

But at the sa ti, he felt the vibe return.

Could it be... she’d broken free of my spell?

Harry was puzzled, but the little maid sitting on his lap showed no intention of getting up.

So, she hadn’t broken free?

"What do you an, eating or not?" Harry started playing dumb.

Cassandra expressionlessly forked a grape from the nearby fruit plate and held it to Harry’s mouth.

Her expression clearly said, "My patience has limits."

This left Harry completely confused—was she into it or not?

Or was this mind control only effective to a limited degree?

Oh, I preserved a bit of Cassandra’s temper so you’d know you’re controlling Cassandra?

Alright...

He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the grape—juicy and round—rolled right down his throat.

"Gulp."

Harry swallowed the grape whole, without even peeling it or chewing.

"Eat more grapes; they’re good for you," Cassandra said coldly as she watched him swallow. "Look at how clumsy you are. That’s not how you eat grapes—you have to peel them... Heh, I forgot, you’re a Muggle master; how would you know how to eat fruit like grapes?"

Harry rembered—this was from their first-year Christmas, when Cassandra had fed him grapes, and he’d been so nervous he’d swallowed one whole.

Cassandra had worn pretty much the sa disgusted expression back then, but without the "master" in her words.

Harry suddenly felt a pang of conscience; controlling Cassandra like this felt a bit inhumane.

So, he tried to sever the control over her.

Yet Cassandra continued as if nothing had happened, sitting on his lap and feeding him fruit.

Even when his brain short-circuited, she reached out with her finger to wipe the waterlon juice trickling from the corner of his mouth, staining her immaculate white glove with bright red.

It had to be said, the stark contrast created quite a visual impact.

Harry: Who am I? Where am I? What am I doing?

Hadn’t I already cut off the control over her? Why was she still like this?

Could it be... the control’s effect was too strong?

"What else would you like to eat?" Cassandra asked with concern after finishing the fruit plate. "If there’s anything else you want, I’ll have Dobby prepare it for you, my master."

"That’s enough," Harry said, shaking his head.

"Oh." Cassandra nodded, curling her fingers to carefully wipe the fruit residue from Harry’s lips.

Then, with a light flick of her fingers, a silent Scourgify restored her glove to its previous spotless, pristine state.

Harry decided to test Cassandra, to figure out what was going on with her now.

"What ti is it?" he asked.

"It’s already nine o’clock," Cassandra replied. "Do you need anything else? My master?"

"A proper maid should know what ’attending to bed’ ans," Harry said with a wicked smile. "Of course, as a reasonable master, I don’t need you to attend to bed—warm the bed for , how about that?"

When Harry said "attending to bed," Cassandra’s face suddenly flushed red, and you could almost see steam rising from her head.

Her fists clenched tightly, but they relaxed when he said "warm the bed."

Fine, it’s just warming the bed—that’s what a maid should do.

Cassandra hypnotized herself, glancing subtly at Harry before saying, "It would be my honor—then, please allow to excuse myself first. As for assisting you with your bath, it’s better to leave that to Dobby, don’t you think?"

Harry, of course, knew when to quit while he was ahead; he nodded vigorously and said, "Yes, yes—I’ll have Dobby help with the bath first—"

With that, he quickly left the room and dashed to the bathroom.

After Harry’s figure disappeared from sight, Cassandra covered her burning cheeks and squatted on the ground.

Aaaah...

That rotten Potter...

Where on earth did he learn all this naughty stuff?

Don’t let find out, or I’ll personally...

But she still rembered her agreent with Harry. After squatting on the ground to compose herself for a while, she shakily stood up, walked unsteadily to Harry’s bedroom, lifted the covers, and lay down inside.

Fine, it’s just being a maid for one day...

She hypnotized herself in her mind.

In fact, she had been mind-controlled by Harry at the beginning.

But as the Malfoy family’s heiress, Mr. Septimus couldn’t possibly not have prepared so odd magical items for her.

Coincidentally, the necklace she was wearing now was the rlin relic she’d stolen from the family vault back then.

The mind control only lasted a few short seconds before being neutralized by the ancient magic protection on the rlin relic.

However...

Cassandra was willing to play along with the role-playing; after all, back then their relationship had been master and servant—though Cassandra never saw it that way, everyone else besides her thought so.

So, she figured she’d use this opportunity to make it up to that wretched Potter.

Lest he hold a grudge and go running back to that bad woman Grindelwald.

Look at him—rlin above, that cute little Harry, corrupted into what by that bad woman Grindelwald!

It had to be admitted, Cassandra still viewed Harry through the filter of those early days.

Even now, with Harry turned all slick and sly, in Cassandra’s eyes, it was just "that bad woman Grindelwald corrupted him, that’s all."

However...

What exactly would that rotten Potter do once he finished his bath and ca here?

Cassandra’s mind was a ss, utterly chaotic.

She didn’t know what outrageous demands Harry might make, nor did she dare imagine how far his current naughty streak might go.

If he made that kind of naughty request, should she agree or not?

Cassandra wanted to agree; she was afraid that bad woman Grindelwald might beat her to it.

That bad woman had already stolen Harry’s first kiss—what if she stole his innocence too!

But if she agreed, her lifelong ladylike upbringing made it a bit hard to accept.

In the midst of this internal battle, Cassandra pulled the covers over her head and started playing ostrich.

Ah—whatever, no...

Before she could fully give up, the sound of the door opening rang out.

"Cass?"

Harry’s voice reached her ears.

"Are you still here?" he asked.

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