Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Faced with several flashes of light, Nietzsche instinctively covered his face with his hand.

"Thanks to this child, the Ministry of Magic is able to fund projects that were previously impossible... Yes, that's right, I will vigorously promote cooperation with Muggles and provide sufficient funding to St. Mungo's Hospital."

At least by maintaining a good relationship with Nietzsche, Fudge won't have to worry about a lack of votes during the ministerial elections.

No one knows how much the Ministry of Magic has profited from the wizarding factories, but the Minister was grinning from ear to ear.

"I can only apologize for what happened to Mr. Crouch." Fudge took out a handkerchief and wiped away his crocodile tears. "His current condition clearly makes it impossible for him to continue serving as director; he should retire in time."

Nietzsche felt nauseous looking at it. If he remembered correctly, when they were in the first year, the other person always brought up the "Secrecy Law".

Protecting a secret...whose secret?

Please, that's a huge amount of gold. A magical car can sell for three hundred Galleons. If Fudge doesn't agree, those Gringotts goblins will probably be the first to storm the Ministry of Magic.

But Umbridge, standing to the side, was not happy. She was pushed aside by the minister, her eyes filled with hatred.

The old woman seemed to feel that Nietzsche had taken her place, since she usually stood proudly next to Fudge on the cover of the Daily Prophet.

"Minister, you're off to the opening ceremony!" He shrugged and casually removed the fat finger from his shoulder.

Nietzsche pointed to the people in the courtyard. Principal Maxim was red with anger, while Karkaroff leaned against the door frame, looking bored and coldly staring at every passing member of the Ministry of Magic.

The moment the minister turned his gaze over, his face immediately tightened. After exchanging a few polite words, he sat down in the main seat.

When the enchanted ceiling of Hogwarts turned from sky blue to dark purple, Dumbledore stood up and announced the start of the competition, but the headmaster's eyes seemed to be fixed on Hermione.

People at every table cheered for their idols, and she stood up amidst the attention of everyone.

“Get rid of Fleur and Krum first, they can’t beat you anyway,” Nietzsche said softly.

“I know…” Hermione touched the necklace on her chest that contained their blood, satisfied with the last part of his sentence. “You’ll come, won’t you?”

"I can feel it."

If Hermione is in danger, his magic will be transferred to her through runes, and that will be the moment he and Snape set off.

The match was played at the Quidditch pitch, but Nietzsche left the group halfway there and turned to walk towards the Forbidden Forest. This was because Snape was still a Death Eater, so he needed to find a reliable partner.

I'm talking about you, Smaug!

This time, with him as the dragon knight, it should be even more powerful.

Chapter 271 Guess who's here? It's me!

People began to enter the stands, and the warriors followed Professor Ludo Bagman onto the Quidditch pitch, which had transformed into a giant oval maze, with unknown traps lurking in its passageways.

Grindelwald, playing Professor Grendel, stood behind Dumbledore, raising his wand high. A beam of blue light shot into the sky, dispersing the clouds overhead and letting the starry sky envelop everyone.

Then, Dumbledore politely shook hands with each of the warriors. When he reached Hermione, the headmaster stared blankly at the necklace on her chest.

"It seems I was overthinking it. Well then... good luck to you."

The headmaster chuckled and patted her shoulder, seemingly to brush off the dust, but Hermione felt something warm inside her clothes.

Based on the score, Hermione was the first to start, but instead of rushing to the center of the maze, she groped her way along the path—the starting point of Durmstrang's Krum was at the entrance on the left.

As the final event of the three-way battle began, Nietzsche, carrying a helmet made of basilisk scales, stood with his back to the rising fireworks. In the dazzling light, he saw several people standing beside the fire dragon:

Quirinas Quirrell, a shimmering cloak seemingly woven from the fur of an invisible beast, sat silently on a tree stump, admiring the wondrous sights in the sky.

Looking from the Forbidden Forest, only the sky above the Quidditch pitch is visible, as if the sky had collapsed.

Lockhart impatiently fiddled with his phone, wearing a suit but with a cape tied behind him, looking like a handsome phantom thief from a movie.

"Damn it, Quirinas! Why did you drag me here?" Gilderoy said angrily. "We agreed that I would deal with the Muggles, and you would deal with the wizards... You clearly heard that woman talking about the Man of Void!"

That woman—Skeet, the journalist whom the entire wizarding world both loved and hated.

Any electronic device that enters the magical world will be rendered useless by the energy field of magic. So Gilderoy Lockhart dejectedly put away his phone. If Nietzsche was not mistaken, the other person seemed to have gained a little weight.

"If Granger gets into trouble, you can expect to be sent back to the wizarding world." Quirrell withdrew his gaze and let out a few cold snorts.

“Look at what you’re saying… I mean—I can’t be of much help.” Lockhart rubbed his face and chuckled awkwardly. “You have gravity magic, what do I have? Memory magic is useless in a duel.”

Having spent so much time with Snape, Nietzsche walked silently. The Norwegian Ridgeback sniffed, then suddenly turned its head, opened its eyes, and looked over with surprise.

Smaug was still gloating, feeling that he hadn't helped Hermione for nothing.

If it weren't for Dumbledore stopping her, she would have bitten those referees to death... What do you mean by making her the first to be eliminated for the sake of balance? But thankfully, Nietzsche is here to play with her, isn't he?

"Listen to me~ I'll take you to another competition." Nietzsche saw the dragon horns hurtling towards him and quickly waved his wand to lessen the impact.

"Yay!"

Smaug had always treated Nietzsche this way since childhood, and it was precisely because he could use magic to neutralize the enormous impact that she didn't need to carefully control her power, which is why their relationship was so deep.

Upon seeing the dragon's movements, Quirrell and Lockhart temporarily stopped their bickering.

"You really came?" Nietzsche breathed a sigh of relief.

In fact, Lockhart was the least problematic. Although he was timid and cowardly, he would be more obedient than anyone else if he was caught doing something wrong. Nietzsche's only concern was Quirinus Quirrell, after all, Voldemort had hurt him before.

It is no exaggeration to say that, apart from Dumbledore, Quirrell was the only wizard in the entire British wizarding world who could recognize just how powerful Voldemort was.

“I’ve thought it through. Even a fool like Gilderoy can sever ties with the past, so why can’t I?” Quirrell mustered his courage, taking the opportunity to kick his friend in the foot. “The Philosopher’s Stone did more than just give my body a second life.”

With his mind and abilities, Quirrell became even more powerful.

"And then be reborn as a shut-in who only stays in the lab all day?" Lockhart mocked. "Just wait, then the entire wizarding world will know how the great Gilderoy defeated the resurrected Dark Lord."

Watching him affectationally fix his hair with his fingers, Nietzsche unconsciously clenched his fist.

Quirrell is really crying... Oh well, let's look on the bright side. The other party's interpersonal skills and influence in the magical world are still quite good.

The dragon's tail obediently moved in front of Nietzsche and excitedly rubbed against his thigh. After they were settled, Quirrell whispered a spell, and a purple light shone from his wand, making the armored Norwegian spine dragon very light.

The fire dragons landed heavily on the Quidditch pitch wall, but miraculously, they were as light as paper and made no sound.

Nietzsche looked down at the entire labyrinth from above, and he could only vaguely see a few silver lights moving around inside. Even when Lockhart took out his magic telescope, he could only see a few places that were not covered by magic.

"Potter entered the golden zone... You know that magic? It's inverted space."

At that moment, a red spark rose into the sky, dispelling the surrounding fog.

"Alright, nobody wants to hear you spouting nonsense," Quirrell said coldly. "Who's out?"

“Don’t rush, let me see. The competition area is shrouded in ‘fog of war,’ so there’s not much to see.” Lockhart turned around and focused his gaze on the area illuminated by the red flare. “It’s that tall guy with the buzz cut.”

It seemed that Krum was the first to be eliminated. Nietzsche saw Karkarov on the referee's stand look up and give him a grateful smile before hurrying to the edge of the maze.

With the help of several professors, Krum was carried out.

Half an hour later, Lockhart raised his binoculars again and discovered that Fleur had also been eliminated.

The plan went smoothly, and Hermione then began to venture deeper into the maze. The further she went, the dimmer the light from her lightsaber became, until it was finally swallowed up by the dense darkness.

Nietzsche frowned, but after waiting for a while, he still didn't hear Cedric being eliminated.

“We can’t see her anymore,” Lockhart said, puzzled. “And then what? If the Crown Cup is a door key, we don’t even know when we’ll actually make our move…”

Time ticked by, and Quirrell wrapped his head in a black mask, breathing heavily. This time, however, he didn't interrupt Lockhart's rambling explanation.

Nietzsche took out the potion bottle that served as the 'door key'.

Just then, he felt completely drained, as if he had been put under a bone-softening spell, and all the magic power in his body was completely drained. An alarm went off in his mind—the show was about to begin.

Nietzsche unscrewed the potion bottle, drank the vitality tonic inside in one gulp, and put on the helmet he had prepared long ago.

The knight-like anti-magic helmet only had two triangular windows and a respirator.

"Grab my hand!" his voice was muffled. "Mentos!!"

The key trembled slightly, emitting a blue light. Everything around him began to distort. He felt himself being pulled in a certain direction with unstoppable force, dragged through the rotating scene, and the noise around him immediately subsided.

However, the Norwegian Smaug seemed unaffected; Nietzsche opened his eyes and found himself in a wilderness.

The surrounding graves were crushed by the dragon's massive body, and Hermione and Cedric were leaning against the dragon's legs, surrounded by a circle of Death Eaters.

Directly in front of them was a huge cauldron and a thin-looking person wearing a black wizard's robe. Harry Potter could be seen lying unconscious on the ground, blood flowing from his arm.

The other person's skin was paler than bone, with no bridge of the nose, only two thin, long cracks.

It's Voldemort, he's come back to life...

To Nietzsche's surprise, there was another person soaking in the boiling cauldron, looking quite content. Unlike Voldemort, his head wasn't bald; instead, he had a small tuft of short black hair.

Nietzsche recognized him from his youthful appearance—Tom Riddle.

The other person had no clothes on, only their upper body was exposed, and they curiously touched the edge of the stone cauldron with their hands, feeling everything around them with the curiosity of an infant.

Riddle waved to the group and called out, "You've finally arrived."

Chapter 272 Dragon, Phoenix, and Snake

“Father’s bones, servant’s flesh, enemy’s blood.” Riddle took a deep, greedy breath. “Thanks to Peter’s flesh and your blood… the taste of resurrection is wonderful. Come here… Peter… give me his clothes.”

Peter Pettigrew, who had lost an entire arm, was completely bewildered. His beady green eyes glanced at Voldemort and Riddle before he hurriedly ripped off Potter's clothes and threw them to him.

Voldemort was dumbfounded, and so were the other Death Eaters.

“You are…this is impossible…” Voldemort glared at his servant.

“Master, I did everything you asked.” Peter sobbed, kneeling down to kiss the other’s trailing robe.

The thin wizard's robe couldn't withstand the evening wind. Riddle trembled as he climbed out of the cauldron, wrapped his clothes tighter around himself, and sneezed a few times. But this only excited him more, and he began to examine his fragile body.

Finally, they dragged the unconscious Harry and threw him into another pile of graves.

"Don't blame that poor wretch. I parasitized Potter's body through a Horcrux... We knew about your resurrection plan all along, Voldemort. You didn't know your soul was inside Harry, did you? Too bad, it's gone now."

"I devoured the remnant soul within Potter, making me a little more perfect than you, hahaha, how interesting, hahaha..."

The way Riddell laughed was exactly the same as the way Nietzsche remembered seeing Riddell's face when he had successfully taken revenge as a child—full of malice and schadenfreude.

He lacked the Dark Lord's coldness and was more like a child who had accomplished a prank that no one else dared to do.

Nietzsche shifted his gaze and looked Voldemort up and down. He noticed that one of the man's fingers was missing, perhaps because Riddle had taken a part of his flesh during the previous resurrection ritual.

As the other party said, Riddle was more like a human being than Voldemort.