Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, slung his backpack over his shoulder, stood up, glanced hesitantly at the silent Ron, and was the first to walk out.

But what about Hermione?

Her heart was completely still, as if her blood had stopped flowing. She used a complex potion to block the raging storm outside the door, and focused intently on grinding valerian root and white sage leaf, just like a responsible five-star chef.

"Put your things down, you can leave now," Snape said in a low voice as he walked behind Nietzsche.

"But I'll be done soon..."

“I have never doubted your seriousness about potions. Now, get out.” The professor did not give her a chance to argue. He tapped the table with his wand, making the cauldron and the burning fire disappear from the classroom.

Hermione tilted her head, glanced at Nietzsche, and said silently, "I'll go out now."

However, Snape's patience with her was not unusual for others, since they couldn't replicate the act of 'making the perfect potion in class'.

Of the few unhappy people, Draco Malfoy had the worst expression.

“An interview? It would be even better if their theft could be exposed.” He lowered his head and stirred the potion in the crucible, his light golden bangs hanging down from his forehead, his gloomy voice sounding like he was talking to himself.

"What are you talking about?" Snape turned around unhappily after watching Hermione leave the classroom.

"Don't you think they're being hypocritical...? This should have been an honor for Hufflepuff, but they're giving it to Gryffindor instead..."

“Enough,” Snape said weakly. “Hogwarts deserves all the credit… I know you’re saying this because of Slytherin, but I’ll let it go this time.”

But Malfoy didn't fall silent this time. He suddenly raised his head and looked at the professor with an angry and resentful gaze.

"Is that really what you think?" He put away his wand and wiped the potion off it with a rag. "To Hogwarts? You'd rather support those robbers and thieves."

"Draco, there are no thieves at Hogwarts..."

"Really? I heard that in the past, if someone stole a cup from a nobleman's land, they would be sentenced to death. But now it's obviously useless. Not only will they not be punished, but they will also be given the title of 'hero'."

"This isn't a history of magic classroom. Shut up and focus on your potions! I thought you'd learn something because of Lucius..."

Snape was surprised by Malfoy's backtalk. He forcefully flung off his cloak and walked back to the podium, but as soon as he said that, Nietzsche saw that the professor was somewhat regretful.

Perhaps it was because Draco's patience had reached its limit, or perhaps it was because he felt that Snape had 'betrayed' him.

"Ha! So this is how you feel! You think... I'm not mature enough, right?" Malfoy stared intently at the professor with red eyes, his voice so low it was almost a murmur from his throat.

He rubbed his nose, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and rushed out of the classroom from the edge.

The rest of the group didn't dare to breathe, even the Gryffindors who had just started laughing quickly lowered their heads and focused on dealing with the potion ingredients in their hands...

Snape, his face dark, finally announced in a cold voice, "Slytherin... deduct twenty points. This is his own choice."

Very good, very good. For the first time, the head of Slytherin has deducted points from Slytherin, and it's not just a warning or a point or two.

No one spoke throughout. Nietzsche watched the professor walk back and forth between the desks. Some people were clearly making mistakes, such as Neville, whose boiling liquid and foam overflowed from the crucible. But the professor just watched and didn't say a word.

Clearly, Snape was not at peace.

Even when get out of class ended, they didn't hear Snape announce 'dismissed,' and could only sit awkwardly in their seats, staring blankly at Snape.

“Ahem…Excuse me, where is Nietzsche Holmes?” A woman broke the silence. “get out of class is over now, isn’t it, Mr. Snape? I think I need to borrow him for a while.”

Rita Skeeter, a woman who dressed herself up extravagantly, with curly hair and jeweled glasses perched on her nose, was much richer than Nietzsche had been when he first met her.

Back then, she would skip out on the bill at the Leaky Cauldron bar; now, she speaks with three gold teeth.

“I’m going to write an article for the Daily Prophet about the Triwizard Tournament,” she said in a high-pitched voice, twirling her thick fingers through her hair.

"get out of class dismissed—" Snape coldly shoved her aside.

The remaining students breathed a sigh of relief, cast grateful glances at Rita, and left the classroom one after another.

She twisted her body and sat down next to Nietzsche—in Hermione's seat—her eyes fixed on him, her fingers, painted with red nail polish, taking a quill pen from her crocodile-skin bag.

The magic quill floated above the notebook, its tip trembling slightly, as if it were warming up.

"You're doing well, huh? When are you going to pay me back for the drinks?" Nietzsche awkwardly brought his legs together.

“I can’t compare to you. You’re a celebrity in Diagon Alley now—I’m interviewing Nietzsche Holmes right now.” Rita laughed. If she were younger, she would have been a typical blonde.

As soon as he finished speaking, Nietzsche saw the magic quill glide across the paper:

He was not limited by his Muggle family background; on the contrary, he was hailed by wizards as a 'true Slytherin,' was highly regarded by bestselling novelist Gilderoy Lockhart, and single-handedly created a wizarding factory...

Nietzsche realized that this was not the magic quill he and Hermione usually used; it seemed to have the function of automatically supplementing descriptions.

No wonder she and Lockhart knew each other; they were kindred spirits.

“Alright, I heard that Hermione Granger, who is participating in this tournament, and you two are on good terms. Is she participating to increase her fame?” Rita held the notebook up to prevent its contents from being revealed.

“Participating in the competition was not her own intention.” Nietzsche didn’t know how she came to that conclusion.

Rita raised an eyebrow, looked at him, and then nodded in sudden realization.

“That wasn’t her intention, I understand… How did you come up with the idea of ​​starting a wizarding factory?” she asked again.

Nietzsche had never faced such a formal interview before, and he pondered how to respond: Shylock? He was always photographed by the media with his face covered, and was described as the 'mysterious savior of Scotland Yard'.

Immediately afterwards, he suddenly had a perfect candidate in mind.

“There’s no particular reason, I just want to keep wizards from becoming out of touch with the world.” A calm smile appeared on his face, and he was very humble and polite. “We have magic, and Muggles have blueprints, so why not cooperate?”

"Nietzsche, are you dissatisfied with the current state of the magical world?"

“We have wasted a lot of time and energy,” Nietzsche said ambiguously.

The quill pen, dipped in ink, made a scratching sound on the paper, while its owner kept muttering, "So that's how it is, so that's how it is."

“But Miss Granger is a Gryffindor, how did you two end up together?” Rita pressed on, trying to uncover the secret. “Many warriors have perished in the past, have you ever thought about that?”

“We knew each other before we came to Hogwarts, and regarding abilities... I'm more worried about the others than Hermione.”

Rita closed her notebook, her eyes shining.

“Very good, thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Holmes.” She exclaimed happily, “I really wish I could interview you alone. Wizards these days prefer rebellious people to outdated old men like Dumbledore.”

Chapter 239 Warrior and Princess

The following afternoon, as soon as Nietzsche stepped out of Flitwick's spell classroom, he was met with admiring gazes from Theodore, Warrington, and others by the fireplace in the Great Hall.

He didn't understand what was wrong.

Durmstrang's group was even more baffling; they all looked at him with fear.

“They all firmly believe you’re the mastermind behind the invention of the magical weapon…” Warrington said, searching for his name on the authorization form in Filch’s hand. “But we all know you have nothing to do with the Purifiers.”

"That's right, that's right, you're just Hermione's sidekick~"

They laughed and joked, constantly making fun of Nietzsche.

Nietzsche, bewildered, simply followed them downstairs, shivering from the cold wind blowing in from the entrance of the hall.

“Look at this.” Theodore turned and snatched the brand-new Daily Prophet from his friend’s hand. “The section on the Triwizard Tournament… is here! Granger and Porter have taken four sections.”

Nietzsche stood beside them, following the long queue, his eyes half-open as he walked forward.

Of the four sections, Fleur of Beauxbatons, Krum of Durmstrang, and Cedric of Hogwarts were only mentioned by name; the rest of the content was dominated by interviews with Hermione and Harry.

One of the titles reads: "Granger's Struggle".

'The hero from Gryffindor—is he the Dark Lord or the savior?'

'Her acquaintance with Nietzsche predates the Sorting Ceremony; they are kindred spirits, their ideals aligned perfectly... More than the boy who miraculously survived, they seem to be fighting for the future of the wizarding world, saviors regardless of the world's opinions...'

'This warrior from the Muggle world possesses profound magical knowledge. She believes Muggles are the blueprint for the future of wizarding. Could the magical weapons used to attack the Ministry of Magic have been her creation?'

According to my investigation... Granger's friends are unaware of her purpose in participating in the competition... Granger has hidden herself very well, even captivating the rising stars of the wizarding world...

Much of the description is Rita's embellishment of Hermione's story, and it also misinterprets Nietzsche's original meaning.

For example, he originally said that Hermione's participation in the competition was not her own choice, but Rita interpreted it as meaning that Hermione did not tell anyone her purpose for participating in the competition.

Good, good, good, as expected of a journalist who writes news.

Judging from this interview, it seems that he was being manipulated by Hermione and knew nothing about what was happening... while Harry, on the other hand, became the protagonist in a tragic movie.

Sure enough, when they entered the Great Hall, the Gryffindors, who had already finished their classes, turned around and laughed at them.

“Praise be to the great Hermione Granger!” “Congratulations on bringing Slytherin into your fold!” George and Fred fiddled with their rusty instruments like bards.

Hermione, who could switch between the Dark Lord on her left foot and the Savior on her right, suddenly darted out from behind them, grabbed their ears and twisted them inwards, pulling them aside.

Then he ran over and awkwardly poked the floor with his toes.

“That reporter… Rita Skeeter… I’d better not see her again.” She said resentfully, her face slightly flushed.

“You’d better not go against her.” George grabbed a freshly baked baguette from the basket. “Otherwise, she’ll deliberately portray you in the worst possible light, and once the storm has passed and the topic is over, she’ll ignore you.”

That's good advice, but given Hermione's existing status, Nietzsche thinks Rita will only go further.

Seeing her angry expression, Nietzsche pulled her outside.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked. "I'm going to practice the Weather Charm with the professor later. I've recently discovered that this charm works very well with war magic."

“A surprise.” White breath escaped his lips, frost already forming on the damp ground. “It’s about the preparations for the first event of the Triwizard Tournament, and I think the people in Beauxbatons should already know.”

"How is that possible? How could Hagrid have leaked the information to Beauxbatons' warriors?"

Nietzsche remained silent.

He led Hermione around the Owl Hut and from the edge of the Forbidden Forest to the Centaur village, to the lake where he showed her his latest masterpiece—a fully protected Norwegian Spinosaurus.

The armor made of sago palm was very light for Smaug, and it did not affect her reaction or speed in the slightest.

“Their headmaster is quite cunning…” Nietzsche shrugged, pleased with Hermione’s surprised expression. “You have no idea how Hagrid reacted to Mrs. Maxime.”

Hermione felt much lighter after solving the puzzle of the game.

"Really? Hagrid is even dumber than you?" She recalled the description in the Daily Prophet, a smile playing on her lips.

This is saying that he and Hagrid were just as infatuated with Mrs. Maxime.

Therefore, Nietzsche's face darkened, and he muttered, "Damn Rita Skeeter..."

When the dragon noticed Hermione's arrival, it held its head high, wearing a knight's helmet, and strolled over leisurely, its tail swishing from side to side. It let out a low growl of displeasure, as if to say: You owe me.

“The first challenge is courage, and it’s related to fire dragons…” Nietzsche explained. “I’ll have Smaug fly into the sky, and when you enter, just give her a magical signal, and she’ll come to you.”

He stepped forward, tiptoed, and stroked the wooden armor on the fire dragon's body as if caressing a lover.