Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Moreover, Nietzsche discovered that Fudge did not dare to resist much. You see, for an ordinary wizard, Fudge would definitely send Dementors and other Aurors to capture him, and the mere charge of 'obstructing official business' would be enough to clear his name.

After Fudge whispered something to the goat, the goat returned to the alley next to the post office, stepping through the clouds.

"Alright, alright, everyone, let's get back to school!" Fudge shouted angrily. "If you don't like Dementors, next time I'll use a dragon to guard this place."

No one dared to be the first to go out. Fudge had left, but the Dementors were still floating in the sky.

Hermione hoped that Aberforth would step forward and help, but he seemed only interested in the tavern, because the goat was standing in the middle of the alley, not moving an inch.

Finally, she helplessly raised her wand: "Expecto Patronum!"

The silvery smoke warmed the tavern a bit, and she raised her head, gesturing for the Hogwarts students to follow her.

"Stay close, watch out for those Dementors..." Hermione nudged Nietzsche with her shoulder before leaving, "After all, you haven't learned the Fiendfyre and Patronus Charms yet~"

They walked along the Three Broomsticks Tavern toward Hogwarts, knocking on the doors of each shop one by one.

Nietzsche trailed at the very back of the group. While Hermione was receiving everyone's envy as she picked up several Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw wizards from Madam Patiffe's Tea House, Nietzsche could only sigh to herself.

"Excellent Patronus Charm! When we get back to school, I'll add ten points... no, twenty points!" Professor Flitwick shrieked from the teahouse entrance.

Every time Hermione received a compliment, she would turn her head and smile smugly.

In Honeydukes, Professor McGonagall had been waiting for a long time. After seeing everyone return safely, she took out her own money and bought everyone a piece of chocolate... except for Harry Potter, who had secretly run off to the cellar.

"I really wish I knew who my Patronus was~" Hermione leaned closer.

"Alright, alright, I know you've learned the Patronus Charm." Nietzsche, holding Crookshank, quickened his pace.

Chapter 188 Darth Vader's Matching Suit

This Christmas, Hermione went home as usual, leaving Nietzsche behind at school.

All he needed to do was look at the Marauder's Map with Harry, since Black hadn't sent any news for a long time, so the ink dot marking Peter Pettigrew remained on the Gryffindor tower.

There were very few people staying at school this time, but as usual, twelve Christmas trees were still displayed in the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

On Christmas morning, Nietzsche was awakened by the heavy weight of Mount Crook.

"Meow meow~"

"Merry Christmas." Nietzsche planned to turn over and sleep in during the holiday when he didn't have to do homework or go to class.

But when he faced the wall, he found several boxes piled up in the corner. In the dim lake bottom, he wrapped himself in a blanket and sat up in bed.

Several of the gift packages appeared to be wrapped in several tattered plastic bags, and the colored paper wrapping used to cover the gift boxes was larger but dirtier than the surrounding packages.

Nietzsche, too lazy to get out of bed, pulled his magic wand from under his pillow.

The smaller boxes floated up and were roughly torn open by an unseen hand, revealing the gifts inside:

Several plates of candy, cookies, and a pair of wool socks.

“Uh…Dumbledore’s.” Nietzsche glanced at the red and yellow socks and immediately knew who they were.

The box of cookies was definitely Mary's; if he hadn't seen the signature on the greeting card that came with it, he would have assumed the caffeine-free cookies were from Mrs. Hudson.

Sherlock, on the other hand, gave her two toothbrushes.

"Could there be some secret?" Nietzsche played with it for a while and found that there was no button that could pop out a sharp knife from the toothbrush head.

He opened the entire box again, but found nothing else inside, only a Christmas card with a sentence written on it:

For personal use and as a gift.

Perhaps there was some deeper meaning or morbid humor, Nietzsche casually tossed the two identical toothbrushes aside, then put them away, finally focusing his attention on the two huge, tattered packages.

"A package is flying in."

The two large gift boxes nearly knocked Crookshan off the bed.

Nietzsche tore open the packaging and gasped. A dark green cavalry breastplate fell to the ground. The material was smooth, but when he touched it, he found that it was rough to the touch, as if it were welded together with many scales.

He then opened the second package, but as soon as he tore a hole, something slid out as well.

It was a bunch of tiny, dark green scales... Nietzsche tried using the Summoning Charm and the Levitation Charm, but found that the scales were not summoned at all.

There were also two small balls wrapped in metal and a piece of parchment.

'The basilisk had too many scales to process all at once, so Dobby took it upon himself to forge some of them into armor for preservation and use. Dobby remembered that many pureblood lords had done the same.'

This is really...

"This is truly the best gift I've ever received!!"

House-elves are truly... They have long lifespans, and while serving several generations of their families, they also accumulate knowledge from those generations in their minds, including but not limited to alchemy, secret spells, and more.

No wonder those families sometimes prefer to cut off the elves' heads and hang them on the wall rather than grant them freedom.

Nietzsche couldn't wait to put it on, but regretted it less than two seconds later—it was just too cold!

The cold that penetrated his underwear and skin instantly woke him up, leaving him wide awake.

"The hardness... seems okay, but I don't know if the magic resistance effect has been weakened."

Crookshan tilted its head and saw Nietzsche excitedly holding a knife, gesturing and poking at his arm and chest, making several sharp scraping sounds.

But a knife alone wasn't enough. He then rummaged through his luggage and pulled out a first-year revolver. He placed one of the guard plates on the ground, fired a shot, and the high-speed spinning bullet sparked as it struck the guard plate.

Nietzsche examined it and found no penetration. He then rubbed it with his fingertip... There was no dent, only a tiny scratch.

These are valuable items. He quickly collected the remaining scales, then put on a school robe over his armor and left the dormitory.

"Should we leave some of the rest for Hermione?" Nietzsche pondered as he walked out of the basement. "Let me think... I can make another level four anti-magic helmet, comparable to a wizard's, and it should be fully protective."

The basilisk's eyes could also be hung around its neck.

Right, he couldn't tell Hermione that the golden orb was an eye, otherwise she would find it disgusting... After all, what normal person would hang a living creature's eyeballs on their body?

Hogwarts was unusually quiet that day.

There were more than just a few students in the Great Hall: Neville had gone home to be with his family, Ron was sitting with Harry, holding Scabbers, and there were two dejected freshmen and Astoria from Slytherin.

There was only one dining table in the center, where students and professors ate together.

Even Filch, who is usually gloomy and impatient, put on a tuxedo for Christmas... although it looks very old.

“Merry Christmas!” Grindelwald said happily as he saw Nietzsche approaching. “Albus, I’m so glad you invited me to your party.”

"Don't be silly, eat as much as you want."

Harry and Ron sat side by side, each with a brand-new flying broom on their lap.

“These are the latest fire crossbow bolts!” Ron carefully stroked the streamlined birch wood. “A truly international-standard Christmas gift. Impressive. If someone gives me one, I’ll be their godson.”

“I hope your drool doesn’t drip onto my cushion,” Harry said sarcastically.

Nietzsche noticed that the two of them were exchanging pleasantries and their eyes kept glancing in his direction.

Clearly, this valuable gift had to be shown off.

“We’d already heard it all before you arrived,” Astoria said, cutting a baked potato with a sigh. “The most expensive Christmas present…and later they’ll be asking, ‘Hey, what’s your present?’”

Nietzsche had just sat down when he heard Harry ask that question.

"What's your gift this year?" Harry cleared his throat, pretending to be familiar with the person. "I'm just curious, just asking. Of course, the sentiment behind the gift is the same as the Firebolt."

For at least a month after Christmas, Harry Potter will definitely be talking about Firebolt.

The problem is, of all people to admire, he had to choose Nietzsche—the other's little tricks didn't make him envious, but instead stirred up his competitive spirit.

“Can anyone come at me?” Nietzsche stood up, tearing open his collar like Superman, letting his dark green plate armor gleam in the candlelight and torchlight. “Anything will do, except for the Killing Curse.”

For a moment, everyone was stunned.

Harry thought he had provoked the other person, so he quickly put the fire bolt back into the bag.

"Everything is petrified."

Perhaps Snape had long been unable to tolerate the atmosphere at the table. Upon hearing Nietzsche's 'request,' he raised his finger and cast a petrification spell. Since he couldn't deal with Harry, he could only vent his frustration on Nietzsche, who was from his own house.

Nietzsche saw the attack but didn't use a barrier spell to intercept it. He simply stood there and let the gray magic engulf him.

Even though the professor's attack was cast without a staff, it was comparable to the power of a top seventh-grader, but Nietzsche didn't stagger at all. The spell passed through his school robe, but was blocked by the snake-scale breastplate underneath.

“Thank you, this is my gift, everyone.” Nietzsche sat down lightly.

Everyone was somewhat bewildered. They only saw the spell appear, flash by, strike Nietzsche, and then... nothing more happened.

“This exquisite craftsmanship is comparable to that of fairies.” Grindelwald’s eyes flickered slightly, and his voice rose a few decibels, interrupting the competition between the two sides at the long table. “Which master created this?”

"Dobby, a house-elf... no, a house-elf who has already been freed."

"Then it truly is priceless," Dumbledore said, bringing the match to a close with a lighthearted and cheerful tone.

At that moment, the auditorium doors were pushed open again, revealing a divination professor wearing a pair of frog-like glasses. Trelawney's attire had a distinctly Gypsy feel, adorned from head to toe with metal picks.

She spread her arms and flew over like a dragonfly.

“I thought Sybil was still in the attic and didn’t want to come out…” Professor McGonagall said rather rudely.

"I was just looking at the crystal ball, sigh~" Trelawney walked to the dining table, her eyes wide as she scanned the table, muttering to herself as if counting, "Thirteen? Thirteen! That's so unlucky!"

There were three first-year students, Harry and Ron, four heads of state, one headmaster, one assistant instructor for the Anti-Dark Arts, plus Nietzsche himself, making a total of twelve.

"What's wrong?" Nietzsche moved his seat to the side.

“Whenever thirteen people are eating, the first person to stand up will be the first to die,” Trelawney said nervously, hands clasped behind her back. “No, I have to defy fate… I have to go back to eating!”

Just because of this?

Nietzsche glanced across the way and saw Ron using a spoon to put some food on a small plate for his pet, Spot. He and the principal exchanged a look.

“Perhaps you miscounted,” Dumbledore chuckled, pursing his lips. “You’ve underestimated Remus.”

“Professor Lupin? But I didn’t see him.” Trelawney breathed a sigh of relief.

“He wasn’t feeling well and left earlier… You know, Severus’ potions, while never very palatable, are always very effective.”

How could there be thirteen people?

Next to Ron, isn't there Peter Pettigrew sitting on the table eating?