Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

The girls around them were all giggling as they watched him and Fleur, eagerly awaiting the latest news from Hogwarts.

But Furong didn't seem to be in a hurry. She tugged at Nietzsche's sleeve and pulled it down, leading them through the crowd to the frost-covered lawn. Nietzsche heard a few disappointed sighs behind him.

Christmas is just around the corner, and Hagrid is carrying several decorative trees toward school.

"What do you think I am?" Hibiscus pulled up her collar to protect her smooth neck, and she started a conversation in silence.

“What is what?” Nietzsche was baffled by her question. “A wizard from Beauxbatons, a student... a warrior who uses his wicked nature to protect his sister?”

He deliberately avoided the topic of the Veela and astutely pointed out that the other party's wicked character was an act.

This also meant that even though Nietzsche's words weren't very pleasant, she was still quite satisfied with the answer.

“Look… this is why I invited you.” Furong looked at the 'spaceship' in the sky, cupped her hands together, and breathed warm air into her palms. “It would be so embarrassing if my dance partner just smiled like an idiot when we started dancing.”

In fact, it wasn't just Furong; Mrs. Maxim's 'standard etiquette' was the same:

Giants represent 'chaos', 'ignorance', and 'stupidity', while Veela represent 'beauty', 'grace', and other positive qualities.

Lady Maxime and Fleur are rebels; they both use opposing images to break down and destroy the existing semiotics of wizarding society, much like the 'rebellious punk' movement that was once popular in British society.

Indeed, in Nietzsche's eyes... or rather, throughout history, lineage is not important; status is.

"Aren't you afraid I'll attack you again?" He flicked his wrist and waved his wand in front of the other person's eyes.

"Maybe... but this fear might also help me better control my abilities." Hibiscus wasn't frightened by him; instead, she smiled at him.

"Oh, I thought you were doing this to get revenge on Hermione."

“You’ve reminded me,” she teased. “It’s quite amusing to think that a genius even our Principal Maxim admires is jealous of me. Perhaps you can even help me with the second project.”

Then she fell silent, waiting quietly for Nietzsche's reply.

Hibiscus certainly possessed a face that drove many men mad, a voice and figure that made women envious, and an allure that emanated from her at all times. Yet, even so, Nietzsche still had to say:

"But, I refuse."

"Why?" Hibiscus didn't seem very shocked, but she still asked.

“Because of magic… I can feel it…” Nietzsche suddenly laughed. “Never mind, if you’re looking for wizards who won’t be influenced by you, I think the Ravenclaws, who focus on their hobbies, would be a good fit for you.”

He ignored the fleeting disappointment in her eyes and simply waved from behind her.

As Fleur turned around completely and walked alone toward the Christmas tree outside Hogwarts Castle, Nietzsche softly uttered a spell, and a silvery-white mist gradually floated around him.

This is ultimately something perceived through certain means, and it cannot be considered true 'love'; it can only be considered desire.

Just then, he saw Hermione run out of the main hall and bump into Fleur. Nietzsche rubbed his stiff face, a faint smile returning to his lips, and walked past as if nothing had happened.

"You...you..." Hermione gasped for breath, gasping for air, "You just..."

“Hibiscus invited me to be her dance partner,” Nietzsche said wistfully. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

"Did she use some underhanded tricks? I knew it!" Hermione grinned, but then she caught a glimpse of Nietzsche's lips, which had just twitched.

I wanted to laugh, but I immediately stopped myself.

So she let go of Nietzsche's arm and flung it forcefully to the side.

“Well, it seems you already have a dance partner... then I’ll have to ask someone else. It’s just a shame about that outfit.” Hermione pretended to hesitate. “You don’t recommend that I wear the hat you gave me, do you? It goes very well with my dress.”

Nietzsche looked at Hermione and felt she looked familiar, like... what was she like again?

Oh! Right, it's like a tabby cat that sees someone walk into an alley, suddenly jumps out from a rooftop begging for food, fails, and then wags its tail in disgust and walks away on a brick.

Nietzsche then continued nonchalantly, "Your clumsy dancing skills were learned from Shylock and me. I didn't agree to her request so that you wouldn't trip someone and make a fool of yourself."

“Ha! So the person who’s going to be my dance partner is a jerk?” Hermione glared at him.

"Someone...you haven't even decided on a dance partner yet?"

"I've thought it through, of course I've thought it through! It's you! If becoming my dance partner is a disaster, why should I sacrifice someone else? You tell me—right—"

Her face was dazzling in the snow; the red hue was so striking that even her breath and snowflakes couldn't obscure it.

"Then I'll reluctantly become their 'savior'." Nietzsche bit his lip and walked towards the dormitory, pretending to be calm. He couldn't wait to roll around in bed.

Consider it a warm-up for the dance.

Chapter 245 So Nietzsche secretly drank some wine.

As snow fell heavily, Durmstrang's sails were covered with transparent icicles and white frost, and every night they could see through the auditorium ceiling that it looked as if there were two moons in the sky.

In the Slytherin common room, everyone huddled together, sharing anecdotes about their dance partners, and no one cared about the homework assigned by the professors.

Moreover, on the second night after Nietzsche became their dance partner, they even threw a party to celebrate.

But Hermione, ever since he accepted the other party's 'invitation,' has not been seen during the Christmas holidays, and every time he asks Ginny, he only gets some vague answers.

"It's just a ball, but it's being made to look like an engagement ball." Nietzsche wandered around and found everyone absorbed in their own world, so he played with the dragon for a while before returning to the lounge.

He sat bored by the fireplace, making noticeable grumbling noises.

With the Black Lake frozen over, the Slytherin common room received even less natural light, forcing them to light more fireplaces and candles.

"Are you nervous?" Theodore glanced at him and said directly.

"No."

Why would he be nervous about such a small thing? It's just dancing with the Warriors.

"Then you should be nervous," Theodore said, deliberately contradicting himself as if he were looking for trouble.

"Don't you want to listen to what you're saying...?"

“No, no, no, listen to me.” He interrupted Nietzsche’s impatience and explained, “I know you are very smart and rational, but if you want to take this opportunity to go further, you need to try to understand how girls feel.”

Theodore spoke like a playboy, chatting away.

His dance partner was Eloise Midgen, an unremarkable girl in Gryffindor with a rather long reach, though Nietzsche thought he was just looking for an excuse to show off, since he had never seen Theodore hold anyone's hand.

"Elois used to be ignored because of her acne and pimples, but look at her now? Even Seamus of Gryffindor is green with envy. This is what I mean... if I were to be rational, I would have missed out on a swan."

Theodore crossed his legs and sat on his left, starting to ramble.

"Alright, I know you have a dance partner, you've succeeded." Nietzsche clapped lightly and perfunctorily.

However, Theodore's point is not entirely wrong. If he were like everyone else and always prioritized his dance partner's preferences, he would eliminate a large number of girls based solely on their appearance, thus categorizing everyone into high and low categories.

But to be honest, he just got incredibly lucky. Who would have thought that Eloise, because of Theodore's invitation to the ball, would run to Madam Pomfrey's infirmary and beg for a beauty potion?

Of course, it's possible that the magical accident was caused by Madam Pomfrey's inability to bear seeing the witch attempt to cure her acne with a spell.

"What are you so smug about? Why don't you mention that you were actually drunk the day you invited her?" Hubble burst out of the dorm, disdainfully revealing the truth. "You were even hiding in your dorm regretting it back then..."

Theodore turned his head and grinned at him, signaling him not to talk nonsense.

Hubble, his roommate, clearly couldn't stand it anymore; it seems he suffered a lot from sharing a dorm room with Theodore.

“A girl became beautiful because of me, and you’re just jealous!” Theodore turned away awkwardly and continued, “But you see, decisions made under pressure aren’t necessarily bad.”

But it's easier said than done; Nietzsche had absolutely no idea how to fully immerse himself in it.

He could memorize everything he saw once, almost like an indelible curse. Growing up with this talent, Nietzsche rarely exhibited uncontrollable natural behaviors.

As for taking it any further, he was even more at a loss.

“Drinking…but that’s a good idea.” Hubble suddenly slammed his right fist into his left palm, continuing the conversation.

“But the school doesn’t allow alcoholic beverages to students…” Nietzsche suddenly added, “I just didn’t want to ruin what was supposed to be a perfect ball.”

He touched the black walnut wood in his palm. Knowing his own limitations, he was aware of how much his personality would hinder Hermione's anticipated ball. Besides, his Patronus also relied on intuition.

So he thought: Why don't I give it a try?

Although alcohol is prohibited for students, that doesn't mean they can't get their hands on it.

"Is there anything here that George and Fred can't get their hands on?" Theodore chuckled, patting his chest as a guarantee. "Don't worry, I'll get you some freshly brewed liquor from the Pig's Head Bar."

On Christmas Day, to showcase their class, the professors used magic to create all sorts of ice sculptures that would never melt.

As they entered the hall, it felt as if they had stepped into a magic school on the Siberian ice plains...

In the very center of the hall stood a giant Christmas tree, adorned with ice crystals. The flickering candlelight from the candles floating on the mistletoe illuminated the sparkling decorations.

Nietzsche's head had barely popped out of the basement when a snowball flew over.

Merry Christmas!

The Weasley twins were having a snowball fight at the door. When they saw him, they ran over suspiciously, hands in their pockets.

Immediately afterward, Nietzsche felt a heaviness in his pocket and heard Fred say, "No... no need to pay. Hubble and Theodore told us that this drink is on us, okay?"

After he finished speaking, George on the other side patted him hard on the shoulder and laughed loudly: "You're really lucky, kid!"

Nietzsche looked at Ginny, Lavender, and the others who were coming down from the Gryffindor Tower, but he didn't see Hermione.

"What about her?"

"They're making preparations. Lavender and Parvati aren't the prettiest girls in Gryffindor right now," Kim Ginni said, covering her mouth and giggling.

Harry was about to speak, and had just raised his hand to greet Nietzsche when Ginny grabbed him with her arm and dragged him into the Great Hall.

“But only for this Christmas,” Lavender and Parvati said gloomily as they followed Ron and Neville out.

There was no information whatsoever; no matter which Gryffindor Nietzsche asked, he would only receive two answers:

Either they don't know, or they're as mysterious as Weasley.

That's how it is sometimes; the less Nietzsche knew about something, the more curious he became about it. Never before had he felt such intense curiosity about Hermione—what exactly was she planning?

This gave him a feeling he couldn't quite describe.

It felt as if a ring of soft, brown down had grown inside me...

(Yay! The ball!)

Chapter 246 The First Kiss Under the Mistletoe

(Two-in-one sugar, full sugar)