Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Well, it seems McGonagall is just blaming Snape for being too explicit.

But then again, who would want their school to be inferior to others? Especially since these two guests are from France and Germany.

They've been rivals for ages, both in the magical and Muggle worlds.

“But what am I supposed to do?” Hermione stepped forward, her nervousness making her words fragmented and her tone filled with frustration. “If it’s the opening ceremony, you should have told me sooner… I don’t have anything to offer…”

The Gryffindor witches behind her rolled their eyes.

“You don’t need to perform, child. As the hosts, we should offer our blessings to our guests,” Dumbledore said with a playful wink and a smile.

"Blessings... Oh!"

Chapter 230 Miss Cake

Around six o'clock, the moon, covered in frost, hung over the Forbidden Forest, but there was still no one at the train station, and no small boats were floating on the Black Lake.

All the students at Hogwarts were rubbing their hands together, surrounding a tall fire dragon... of course, to keep warm!

"Watch out for her flames..." Hagrid said, clumsily protecting the students around him while showing off his knowledge of zoology. "Apart from the dragon's eyes, you won't find another obvious weakness."

He tapped Smaug's thigh lightly with the tip of his umbrella; the hard dragon scales were so tough that even the basilisk's teeth couldn't penetrate them.

In this gradually darkening meadow, their group resembled savages circling a campfire. Their laughter and chatter could not penetrate the forbidden forest; standing a little further away only amplified their loneliness.

"France~" Hermione looked at the sky, remembering the trip she missed that summer.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she got... and then she glared at Nietzsche.

Nietzsche was used to it. Given Hermione's erratic thinking, she might have connected it to something bad and then pinned the blame on him.

"Ah! The delegation from Beauxbatons has arrived!" Dumbledore, standing in the back row, shouted along with the other professors.

They headed in different directions, and finally, above the Forbidden Forest, under the moon, they found a floating house, a mansion being pulled by a carriage—twelve silver-maned flying horses, each as big as an elephant.

When the carriage landed, even though it was being supported by the giant horses, it still made a loud noise, and everyone stepped on each other, involuntarily taking a few steps back.

Nietzsche watched the carriage slowly rolling towards him due to the inertia of the giant wheel, without retreating. He casually glanced back at the fire dragon from the shadows, and Smaug immediately knew what to do:

She held her head high, raised her front paws, and effortlessly brought the carriage to a stop in front of them.

He stopped abruptly, without any hesitation, and Nietzsche pressed his wand down, pinning the twelve silver-haired winged horses, which had been leaping about in terror from the fire dragon, to the spot...

The car door, bearing the Beauxbatons school crest, opened—it featured two crossed golden wands with six stars emerging from them.

A French boy in a light blue robe jumped out of the car, startled by the fire dragon with its head bowed, before hurriedly opening a golden staircase at the doorway.

“See, I told you… alchemy.” Hermione saw the staircases extending from under the carriage.

No, it's not like a folding ladder, but rather like a person stretching out their arms. Those golden suspension stairs are part of the carriage, and they are connected at their root.

It simply transforms into the corresponding thing when a certain function is needed.

Immediately afterwards, a woman got out of there. Her size... how should I put it? Her shoes alone were as big as a sled.

Dressed in opulent attire, adorned from head to toe with magnificent opals and sparkling jewels, she was equally astonished by Nietzsche's Norwegian Ridgeback Dragon.

But this physique clearly indicates some giant lineage, Nietzsche guessed... this principal's personality probably isn't as flamboyant as it appears.

“Dumbledore~” She smiled and extended her gleaming hand toward the headmaster.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Mrs. Maxim." Headmaster Dumbledore kissed the back of her hand without bending down; if his back were as hunched as Filch's, he probably would have had to stand on tiptoe.

"Would this be considered disturbing the slumbering dragon?" Mrs. Maxim chuckled.

"It depends on who the visitor is," the principal said with a smile.

The two exchanged a few pleasantries about Hogwarts' motto, and their exchange came to a perfect halt.

“My students…come down!” Mrs. Maxim waved her hand, her voice deliberately low.

After receiving permission, Nietzsche and Hermione saw twelve more wizards and witches descend from the carriage one after another. They were all around eighteen years old, and their school robes were all made of exquisite silk.

Two of the students had their heads covered with scarves, like Muggles in Islam.

Where is Karkaroff?

"He hasn't arrived yet. If you want to wait for him, you can stay here together. If not, you can go inside and warm up."

"Let's forget about it." Mrs. Maxim, however, showed little interest in the other headmaster.

"Then... Miss Granger, would you please show them the way?"

Having received the prompt, Hermione quickly jumped away from Nietzsche and, under the puzzled gazes of the Beauxbatons students, pulled out her wand and waved it in a circle towards the dark sky.

"Call the gods to protect you!"

Before the shadow is seen, the sound precedes it.

Everyone present first heard a melodious, undulating song. Harry instinctively looked up at the top of Dumbledore's head, but he saw nothing—it wasn't coming from Fawkes the Phoenix.

Then, a seven-foot bird flew into the air, leaving a faint halo around it.

“Thank you for your blessing, child.” Mrs. Maxime took a deep breath and nodded solemnly to Hermione.

If she had to guess that it was a matter of courtesy followed by force, then it was clear that Hermione Granger was the 'courtesy' she longed for, while Nietzsche and his Norwegian dragon were the 'force'.

Including the whole of Europe, the number of people who have actually seen a Phoenix can be counted on one hand.

Of the two wizards whose faces were covered by silk scarves, revealing only their eyes, the shorter one couldn't help but glance at Hermione a few more times, until the taller one next to him tugged at him a few times before continuing forward.

“That man’s eyes…” Hermione shuddered, “They gave me the creeps.”

“Hmm~ You’re a cake brimming with happiness right now,” Nietzsche said. “Everyone wants a slice.”

"So this is where your value comes into play—Holmes, you're the 'soldier' ​​here, you can't possibly not even hold onto a piece of the 'cake', can you?"

She spoke ambiguously, leaving Nietzsche momentarily unsure of what she was referring to.

But Hermione didn't wait for him to think. She turned around, wand in hand, and ran into the Great Hall with the Beauxbatons, leaving Nietzsche alone surrounded by dozens of clueless Slytherins and Hufflepuffs.

"Does this mean you should keep an eye on those other schools?" Ernie asked, popping a few Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans into his mouth and squeezing them together.

"Hmm...that's absolutely right..."

"That makes sense,"

Warrington and Theodore nodded in agreement, knowing that he was probably up to some strange trick again.

But... should we really do as these people suggest?

Nietzsche asked himself honestly, and he actually quite enjoyed Hermione's confrontational nature.

Just as they were chattering about new topics and giving Nietzsche all sorts of bad ideas, several whistles and sucking sounds suddenly came from the Black Lake, as if someone was sucking water from the Black Lake with a giant straw.

From that whirlpool, the first thing to emerge was a black mast, followed by sails, ropes...

Under the moonlight, the ship that emerged from the water looked like it was made of a skeleton, with signs of damage everywhere, and a strange mist emanated from its deck, making it look like a ghost ship.

Karkarov arrived, tossed the anchor aside, and stepped off the ship, wrapped in a fur cloak.

"Hogwarts is really cold..." Karkaroff greeted everyone warmly, but his eyes flashed with coldness and indifference as he spoke with a forced smile.

But one person didn't laugh.

“Even Durmstrang is finished.” Grindelwald buried his head in the crowd, letting out a cold laugh. “Even this kind of scum can be the headmaster… I really should have…”

When Karkarov reached the bridge that stretched across the shore, his eyes suddenly narrowed as if he had seen something terrifying. His legs began to buckle, he lost his balance, and after a few steps, he lost his footing.

As the headmaster of Durmstrang, he unlocked the achievement of falling into the Black Lake less than five minutes after arriving at Hogwarts.

"What's wrong?" Dumbledore reached out and pulled him up from the lakeside.

“N-nothing…it’s nothing, I misjudged.” Karkaroff swallowed. “The castle light was shining directly on me, I couldn’t see the road, and then I missed a step…Um…Viktor! Help me moor the boat over there.”

But the next second he didn't need to worry about stopping the boat anymore, because... the boat took off.

Nietzsche's control was so meticulous that the Durmstrang students had barely stepped ashore when they saw their boat groan – it had left the water and been lifted to a height it didn't belong to.

But what he needed to do was not just make the ship float; he needed to stay in the air.

"How did they do that?" The boy supporting Kakarov looked up at the sky in astonishment.

“I don’t know.” Dumbledore shrugged nonchalantly, as if it were commonplace. “Every student finds their way at Hogwarts… that’s how magic is.”

Before Durmstrang students entered the auditorium, they would all look back at the ship they had been on—it seemed even more magnificent than before, because the moon was right in the background.

From a distance, it looks as if the ghost ship is sealed inside a white bubble.

"What kind of dark magic is it?"

“Dark magic... Pfft, Viktor, that’s just a levitation spell.”

The only thing Durmstrang's students knew was that they should never mess with Nietzsche.

Otherwise, they can forget about going home.

Chapter 231 Nietzsche: Strange things, stay away from me!

The three academies have finally all arrived.

But only Karkaroff was hunched over, his voice trembling, yet he also attracted the attention of others... but that was because of Viktor Krum.

The young, strong student next to him is hailed as one of the best Seekers in the Quidditch World Cup, and most importantly—he's still a student.

Nietzsche had initially thought only Quidditch enthusiasts would be interested, but it turned out the witches were too... He glanced at Krum... well, he guessed it...

However, Krum didn't seem to enjoy being watched. He kept a straight face and, while trying his best to meet the wizards' requests, also kept his distance.

“Please sit wherever you like,” Nietzsche said, standing at the entrance of the auditorium.

Perhaps due to the difference in school atmosphere, almost every student at Durmstrang is the same size as Warrington or Marcus.

He glanced at them casually, thinking to himself that they were just another bunch of Quidditch lunatics.

When they entered the auditorium, Nietzsche found that people were still rushing over to ask for autographs, so he unceremoniously raised his wand and temporarily erected a barrier between him and Durmstrang.

"You...which college are you from?" Krum's accent was heavily accented with a trilled "r," indicating that he was not German, but from Northern Europe, probably Slavic.

"Slytherin."

“Then we’ll sit with you.” He took off his felt cloak, ignored the howling around him, and sat down at the Slytherin table. Then he took Nietzsche’s arm. “Come with us.”

His gaze was sincere, unlike the smiles he wore before to appease the fans.