Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Hermione glanced back and saw that Snape had reached the end of the classroom and was about to turn back at any moment, so she quickly slapped Nietzsche's hand away and threw his materials in one by one.

"Just add the amount as needed... When it comes to the simmering stage, remember to remove the crucible before adding the porcupine quills..."

"Ahhhhh!!"

Just as she was watching Nietzsche nod silently, wondering if he was pretending to be stupid again, a scream from the back of the classroom interrupted many people's thoughts.

The Gryffindors were the first to stand on the benches and look out, and then some of the Slytherins followed suit.

"Longbottom, you idiot! Seamus Finnigan, take him to the infirmary!" Snape waved his hand, cleaning up all the spilled medicine that had soaked his robes.

Neville's exposed skin was covered with red boils, and he was being supported by Seamus, who had short, brown hair and burn marks on his hair.

Draco Malfoy laughed even harder.

"If you don't want to end up like him, remember when you threw the porcupine quills." Hermione glared at him, then shoved the materials she hadn't thrown in back into his hand.

But mixing potions is always very tedious and boring.

Not long after, Hermione broke the silence between them again.

"I said, you can come to me... I usually help the Gryffindors with their homework around noon. If you don't have any friends in Slytherin..."

Her voice grew softer and softer, as if she were unwilling to expose Nietzsche's current situation.

"When did Sherlock ever commission you to investigate the wizarding world?"

"Huh?" Hermione's hand, which had reached for his waist, froze in mid-air. She ultimately held back. "I...yes, I just thought it would make it easier for you to investigate."

When Nietzsche dropped the last porcupine quill into the crucible and turned it clockwise with a ladle, his previously serious expression immediately crumbled.

Immediately afterwards, Hermione heard a suppressed laugh coming from beside her.

"Whether I have friends in Slytherin or not makes no difference to me," he said with a mischievous grin.

"You...you were just pretending!" Hermione finally twisted her right hand away. "You clearly heard me from the beginning, and you're still trying to dodge the question!"

"Oh my god... I didn't expect you to actually believe it."

"Forever, Nietzsche, you'll always have your reasons! You just want to see me..."

But Snape had somehow appeared behind them and said coldly, "This isn't a teahouse in Hogsmeade. Slytherin and Gryffindor, each lose... five points!"

Who knows if there are other motives involved?

Listen to the resentment in this. If Nietzsche were to say, this old bat with hair so thick it could be squeezed out of oil and a shuffle that it walks without making a sound, is probably thinking about some kind of psychological trauma again.

At this moment, he casually scooped a spoonful from the cauldron in front of the two of them, sniffed it, and then took two transparent bottles to store Nietzsche and Hermione's potions separately.

One of the bottles contained a slightly cloudy solution, while the other was a translucent, emerald-green liquid with some sediment at the bottom.

"It seems that our future genius of curses is not omniscient or omnipotent after all."

Damn it, why didn't he inherit anything from Sherlock's medical doctorate?

“I just…” Nietzsche glanced at the girl’s happy profile, his heart beating a few times faster than during the first half of the class, “I just made room for someone else, no need to thank me.”

"Mr. Always Right, I'm so sorry, it seems Potions class is going to drag down your average."

Nietzsche let out a brief laugh, then sat back down in his chair with a sullen face the next second. The dramatic change in expression made him look quite comical.

Even Hermione, whose work was being scrutinized by Professor Snape, kept her lips tightly pursed, her eyes looking at the blue stone slab with a smile. For Hermione, this was good news—Nietzsche seemed to be very bad at Potions.

Half an hour later, the young wizards climbed out of the underground classroom with mixed feelings.

Just as Nietzsche was about to strike up a conversation with her while packing his schoolbag, as he did in elementary school, Hermione was already engulfed by the sudden surge of people, leaving only her hands waving helplessly above her head.

He could hear many Gryffindors cheering for Hermione, led by Harry:

"Incredible!" "Gryffindor gets a point!"

He could only shake his head and tidy up the messy table by himself.

“Come here on weekend afternoons from now on.” The enormous shadow stretched endlessly under the overhead light, enveloping Nietzsche. “Slytherin is inferior to Gryffindor in Potions, which is a disgrace to me.”

Perhaps Nietzsche misheard, but he could sense the dean's disappointment and frustration.

Malfoy clearly fell for this; the sight of someone he disliked getting humiliated was more exciting than drinking a whole bottle of euphoria first thing in the morning.

Without waiting for the other party's consent, Snape tossed his wizard robes that were dragging on the ground, turned around, and left the classroom.

Today, Gryffindor is far ahead...

While Nietzsche was having lunch, Mercury returned carrying a newspaper.

But it flew straight past Nietzsche to the Gryffindor table. However, when it looked down and noticed Nietzsche taking out his wand from his waist, it quickly glided and made a turn, urgently returning to Slytherin Airport.

"Alright, let's go back..." Ni took down the wizarding world's newspaper, put his latest emails inside, and affectionately patted its little satchel. "I don't have any food for you here."

He opened the Daily Prophet, blocking Mercury's mournful gaze.

The sun was shining brightly today, and the headline in the newspaper made him feel even better.

Gringotts Intrusion Incident: The Ministry of Magic's Incompetence

Aha!

This was the first wizarding newspaper Nietzsche had subscribed to. As soon as he opened it, he smelled a familiar scent. He almost mistook it for another media outlet criticizing the English police.

The investigation into the Gringotts trespassing incident on July 31st is ongoing, and according to exclusive sources, it was the work of an unknown dark wizard.

Nietzsche folded the newspaper several times and carefully tore out the section about the black wizard.

He was still somewhat clueless about the magical world, but it seemed that things weren't as peaceful as he had imagined.

"My dad also said that Harry Potter killed the Man of Void on his own and will be a powerful dark wizard in the future," Draco scoffed after reading the Daily Prophet. "Hmph... I'll go home and say it's completely not worth it!"

Sitting opposite him was Daphne, who looked like a hunter who had her sights set on her prey.

Although her recent seating arrangements were all coincidental, Nietzsche believed that her greatest flaw was her excessive randomness and perfect coincidences; Daphne's purpose was far too strong.

Nietzsche simply read the rest of the news while asking questions.

"Is this claim, made by the Ministry of Magic, that Harry Potter was the savior of the First Magical War?"

Surely not, the police in the magical world aren't more incompetent than the English police?

Before the First Magical War, there was a global magical war; the former was a magical war within Britain, while the latter was a world war within the magical world.

“It’s not entirely nonsense.” Daphne turned her head and looked around. After confirming that he was talking to her, she explained, “In fact, many families believe that Potter is a natural master of dark magic.”

Only a born master of dark magic can stop the inevitable, unforgivable curse.

This is how most pure-blood wizards perceive Harry Potter, and it's also one of the reasons why Malfoy wanted to win him over.

"I'm not some born dark wizard..."

“No, of course not. Your value far exceeds that.” Daphne said softly, her head lowered. “Draco is currently studying magic under Headmaster Snape, and he wants to challenge you to a duel.”

"Do you think I can't see through your charade?"

Nietzsche once again considered re-evaluating the intelligence of certain members of Slytherin in his mind.

"No, you can think of my actions as an investment. You're a Muggle, so you can ask me if you don't know anything... Believe me, Ravenclaws rarely talk to people, and Gryffindors don't know as much as we do."

Daphne's calm demeanor made her seem as if she were now the heir to the Greengrass family.

Clearly, there is some kind of parallax between her and Malfoy, much like Nietzsche; even if she can't win him over, she's willing to spend some time investing in him.

Anyway... whether Malfoy wins or loses, she won't suffer a loss.

However, there was also a difference of perspective between them. Daphne mistook Nietzsche's interest in magical things for the kind of curiosity that a Muggle wizard would naturally have when he first arrived in the magical world.

Nietzsche placed his hand on the table, habitually making a gesture of thinking, and briefly changed the subject.

"What could possibly make a level-headed investor willing to act as a follower? Let me guess: Parkinson has preserved a deeper foundation than Greengris after the First Magic War."

You're overthinking it...

Nietzsche glanced at the middle of the Slytherin table and saw Draco, who had just finished eating, resting on Pansy's shoulder.

All possibilities existed in his mind.

"There used to be an unwritten rule in the Muggle world that, in order to maximize profits, royal families from different countries would have some degree of blood relation. I think... this unspoken rule also applies to purebloods."

He's so stupid; he should have figured it out sooner.

If purebloods want to eliminate the possibility that their behavior might violate their beliefs and fully uphold the pureblood ideals, they must either marry close relatives or form alliances.

Daphne had heard of a spell in the magical world, but only powerful wizards could master that kind of mind-reading ability. Even though she didn't feel any magic interfering, she was still stripped naked.

An unspeakable shame and anger replaced the aristocratic demeanor she had cultivated on the outside.

"You stick close to Pansy Parkinson, perhaps because only in this way can you know Malfoy's preferences and thus achieve a level playing field. A shrewd businessman is willing to invest himself in the process..."

Before Nietzsche could finish speaking, he was splashed with water in his face.

Daphne was pressing her hand to her chest, her face flushed, but not from embarrassment, but from an outburst of anger.

“Your reasoning is correct, except for one thing—I don’t like Draco Malfoy! I’m only getting close to Pansy to survive between the two of them... otherwise why would I invest in you?”

Daphne left in a panic, while Nietzsche, amidst the curious glances and laughter of those around him, silently wiped his face with the tablecloth and continued eating his steak.

What a bad day...

A leaf folded from kraft paper floated in through the entrance of the auditorium, hovered in front of Nietzsche, and gradually unfolded.

The only inscription is Quirinas Quiro's signature, along with a short sentence:

eight pm.

-----

Everyone, please leave lots of comments (although I don't know why I can't reply, but you can see them).

However, regarding the Slytherin common room, I did some research, and the door to the Slytherin common room is indeed the stone wall behind the dungeon... (Damn, look at this unusual style!)

Chapter Twenty-Three: Quirrell's Tutoring Classes Begin!

Friday nights are so exciting.