Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

On Christmas Eve, after Nietzsche and Hermione ran out of the Great Hall, someone quietly slipped through the pleasant white smoke and entered the crowd to gather information...

Indeed, Rita Skeeter was not satisfied with the last interview.

Knowing that the previous edition of The Daily Prophet, featuring an interview with Hermione Granger, broke sales records, she decided to take a risk for the hefty Galleons and uncover something even more interesting.

And these things are never lacking at balls...

Rita used her own methods to navigate through the crowd, and she saw a drunk Hagrid chatting with Mrs. Maxim on a stone bench in the courtyard.

Then she heard Hagrid say, “I knew it…you’re just like me, aren’t you? I haven’t seen anyone since my mother left when I was three.”

Interestingly, it seems the professors at Hogwarts and the headmaster of Beauxbatons have a good relationship.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” Mrs. Maxim’s smiling face suddenly turned cold.

“You and I are both half-giants!” Hagrid said bluntly.

"I'm just... just a little big-boned, that's all! You're insulting me!" Headmaster Beauxbatons shouted in a shrill voice, then pushed aside the frost-covered rose bushes and stormed off.

Look! The perfect inspiration has just come to us!

But Hagrid... Rita didn't think her readers would be interested in an obscure professor of magizoology who had just completed a year in office. Her discerning readers, like her, were already dissatisfied with such things.

They crave something richer, something more emotionally stirring...

As Rita Skeeter watched Mrs. Maxim's angry retreating figure, a few good ideas suddenly came to mind.

On the second day of Christmas, Nietzsche woke up very late. He didn't know what time it was, but when he habitually turned over, he found that the bed was hard and not soft at all.

On the floor—Nietzsche's throbbing head slowly began to turn.

And it wasn't the floor of the Slytherin dormitory, because instead of cut-up newspapers, there was a wool carpet on the floor.

"Hiss~~" Nietzsche was about to sigh when he felt a burning pain on his lips. He covered his mouth, becoming even more worried about the current situation.

He forced his eyes open and found himself lying on the floor. The first thing he saw was an arm hanging down from the side of the bed.

'What happened last night? Hermione... hiss... she bit a little too hard...' Nietzsche looked at the smooth, lotus-root-like arm in horror, bracing himself against the floor as he backed away.

At that moment, he subconsciously tugged at the thin blanket covering him, feeling as uneasy as a girl who had been violated.

"Darling~" Hermione had been up for a while. She was lying on her side on the pillow, biting her lower lip, and said slowly with a hint of allure and languor, "Can you give me back my clothes?"

She stretched, deliberately revealing her snow-white shoulders from under the velvet blanket, and shook an empty portable wine bottle.

Nietzsche was momentarily dazed. When he looked down, he realized that he was no longer covered by a blanket. Instead, he was wearing Hermione's pale red dress and white knee-high stockings.

what! !

He abruptly threw the clothes covering him onto the bed, then crawled further back.

Watson hadn't taught him how to do it, nor had Sherlock, so he simply lowered his head and, incidentally, closed his eyes.

"We are here..."

“In the Room of Requirement.” She seemed to have guessed what he was going to say.

Nietzsche's rare moment of helplessness was like a dessert placed on her bedside table.

“But it’s a shame you insisted on sleeping on the floor.” Hermione slowly put on her clothes, then picked up her white knee-high socks and asked, “By the way, you didn’t do anything strange last night, did you?”

Upon hearing that he hadn't done anything illegal, Nietzsche breathed a sigh of relief, a mixture of disappointment and relief.

But... what do you mean by "strange things"?!

He angrily opened his eyes, swayed as he stood up, leaning on the bookshelf: "Yeah, you'd better check for any marks. Just go back wrapped in this blanket."

"Ha~~ little brat." Hermione's disdain was undisguised.

As she pulled up her socks and lifted her bent knees, Nietzsche could catch a glimpse of her resilient long legs, like the hind limbs of a fire-breathing dragon, slender yet powerful against the backdrop of her torso.

He glanced at it, quickly turned his head away, put the kettle on the fireplace, and then poured two more glasses of hot water.

Although things seem calm and everything is fine at the moment, when they leave the House of Requirement, they act like thieves, peeking out at every corner.

"The Light of Wonderland... The Light of Wonderland!" Hermione patted the portrait of the Fat Lady hard and crawled into the hole.

"How many is it now? So early in the morning, they're really giving me a headache." The fat lady grumbled, then went back to sleep after opening the passage to the Gryffindor common room.

She decided to change her clothes; after all, the ball was over, and she couldn't possibly run around in this expensive dress, could she?

Nietzsche watched her disappear into the hole in the portrait, and only after the last trace of pale red and the lingering scent of apricots in the air had vanished did he turn and go downstairs... To be honest, he felt Hermione had become a little strange:

It was as if the thin layer of paper that had separated him and Hermione had been torn away completely after it was punctured.

"What a misfortune... I have chosen to walk into my grave." Nietzsche apologized to Shylock in his heart.

He held Crookshank, who had just run out of the Slytherin common room, and gently scratched its ears. The Persian cat squinted its eyes in comfort, and both he and Crookshank were in a good mood.

But this feeling of ease, like stretching on the balcony in new pajamas on the first morning of the new year, disappeared after he arrived at the auditorium.

When Nietzsche sat down, the people at the Slytherin table stared at him in unison. Theodore and Warrington clapped first, and then half the table joined in.

The sudden bursts of scattered applause drew everyone's attention, and they joined in the clapping...

"What's wrong? Is there some new curse going around at Hogwarts?" Nietzsche asked, licking the wound on his lip as he spoke.

If something really happened last night, the only thing he was sure of was his blood.

"You're really something!" Theodore put a thumbs-up to his chest, a pleased smile on his face. "I didn't expect you to catch up with Fawcett of Ravenclaw and Stebbins of Hufflepuff so quickly. You truly are a top student..."

“Let me guess… there’s only one truth: you didn’t go back to your dorm last night!” Warrington exclaimed in surprise.

Cho Chang walked over, arm in arm with Cedric. She didn't say anything, but simply handed him a mirror.

Only then did Nietzsche realize what had happened: his lips, face, and the bite wounds were covered with nearly ten bright red marks...

"Hermi! En!"

Chapter 248 Rita's Exclusive News

(Wishing everyone a Happy New Year in advance!)

Hermione has changed; she seems like a completely different person overnight—from her initial cautiousness to her later maturity and composure, and now she possesses an added touch of liveliness...

In Nietzsche's mind, she was exceptionally talented, making all other girls pale in comparison. She was strong-willed, possessing the face of the most beautiful woman when dressed up, but also the most resolute heart when needed.

Since the Christmas ball, he has discovered that Hermione has developed a quality she rarely displays—gentleness.

It's worth noting that Hermione had never done anything related to 'giving a loving look' before, but during the Christmas holidays, when Nietzsche was looking at the letters and gifts his family sent, she would always be propping her head up and staring intently at him.

"How are your parents doing after their marriage?" Hermione's perfectly timed gentleness was hard for him to accept.

“Without Sherlock, you’re just like your parents.” Nietzsche leaned to the side, using the envelope to shield his left cheek as a precaution. “Do you know what you look like now?”

"An observer..."

"On the contrary, you're like a weirdo who's gotten a taste for something better."

It wasn't that he was afraid of gentleness, but rather he was afraid of Hermione's level of adaptation. At first, she would blush a little, but after desensitization, she could even talk to her friends while doing some small, intimate gestures that looked very intimate to others.

She didn't calm down a bit until the first day of the new semester.

It wasn't that she suddenly realized how absurd her gentle tone and demeanor were, but rather that something else had intervened.

On Monday, just after the Christmas holidays, the snow on the grounds had not yet melted. In this cold and dry weather, no one wanted to step out of Hogwarts. Walking from the school gate to the Herbology greenhouse was already their limit.

Even so, Hogwarts welcomed several guests from the Ministry of Magic again in the morning, one of whom was an old acquaintance of Nietzsche—Rufus Scrimgeour.

“Your Excellency Headmaster Dumbledore… I’m here in place of Barty Crouch… You know, he’s not in good health, so he’s bound to make mistakes,” Scrimgeour said, standing at the front door.

His voice was deep but soft, like a dozing lion.

Along with them were not only the Ministry of Magic, but also Hagrid and Mrs. Maxim, Headmaster Dumbledore, and Beauxbatons' students.

Nietzsche saw that Fleur was glaring angrily at the Auror director.

"I can't believe it—that a magical government would believe such nonsense in the newspapers!" she rebuked sharply, completely disregarding her posture. "Do you think the headmaster would fabricate something for...that kind of reason?"

“No, of course not, but Minister Fudge must take the public’s reaction into account.” Scrinker bowed slightly apologetically.

"absurd!!"

Poor Percy was caught between the Auror Director and Headmaster Beauxbatons, his head bowed, until a brief silence fell between them, at which point he weakly raised his hand.

“But…I’m Mr. Crouch’s assistant, and he told me…”

“Percy Weasley, your file was submitted to the Ministry of Magic less than two months ago, and you were included in the Assistant Director of the Department of International Magical Affairs. This is clearly not in accordance with procedure, and I hope your father is unaware of this.”

He gave Percy a deep look, and the other man immediately fell silent.

His previous air of grandeur and ostentation had completely vanished. He probably thought he could replace Barty Crouch as a referee, but unexpectedly... he was dismissed right after the Christmas holidays.

Hermione looked worriedly at the increasingly hostile Ministry of Magic and Beauxbatons.

"Why would the Ministry of Magic suddenly feel that Mrs. Maxime is being unfair?" As a champion, she resolutely stood up to express her opinion.

Because of her support, Fleur's clenched fists slowly loosened, but she still looked coldly at Dumbledore and Scrimgeour, joining the other students in their anger over the fate of their house.

Scrimgeour looked in the direction of the sound and immediately spotted Nietzsche standing next to Hermione.

“You are…Miss Granger? Right?” He paused, organized his thoughts, and said simply, “The wizarding world values ​​the Triwizard Tournament highly, and many people are not satisfied with the judges’ decisions on you. The Ministry of Magic has simply compromised.”

"Wh...what? Me?"

The most awkward thing is that when she stands with her competitor, full of justice and courage, she finds out that the competitor is actually helping her.

So Mrs. Maxim and Fleur turned their angry gazes toward the innocent Hermione.

"Ah...it's probably because of high sales volume; the latest Daily Prophet is still out of stock." Scrimgeour glanced at the Hogwarts students and then pulled a folded newspaper from his pocket.

Nietzsche deftly grabbed the newspaper, and as soon as he unfolded it, Hermione, Warrington, Harry, and a group of others standing nearby gathered around.

The publication featured a photo of Mrs. Maxim scoring the first project; her expression was somewhat languid and calm, as if she were casually doing something insignificant.

The title is: "Dumbledore's Greatest Oversight"

The content below is even more absurd, as if Rita Skeeter was merely acting as a microphone for the wizards:

This newspaper reports exclusively from special correspondent Rita Skeeter: The eccentric headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, always seems to bring his clichés into his teaching and remains stubbornly headstrong in his personnel decisions.

After hiring Mad-Eye Moody as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in September, he invited two other European magic schools to hold a Triwizard Tournament. Without exception, these old headmasters were just like Dumbledore.

First is Igor Karkaroff, a former Death Eater, who, as seen in the tournament, vehemently opposes Hermione Granger, the wizards' most favored opponent...