Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Well, that's an exception, but Hermione isn't like that with everything.

“You don’t have the brains for it, you can’t learn it.” Nietzsche bluntly dispelled the other person’s illusions.

Although Harry learns quickly with the help of reverse reasoning, for some reason, he always stammers and stutters whenever Snape asks him a question in Potions class, even if he knows the answer.

Come on, you at least passed Owls, what are you panicking about, Harry?!

Occasionally other students would come and go through the trapdoor, and it wasn't until an hour before curfew that Nietzsche would ask Harry to put down his books and go with him to the classroom to send the Weasley twins back to their dormitory.

It's always like this; if conditions allowed, George and Fred might be happy to sleep in this basement.

“Umbridge asked me some questions…” Harry, wand in hand, followed Nietzsche as they began to extinguish the lights from the deepest part of the basement.

"Is she targeting you?"

"No, it's more like she's standing up for me. For example, after her Defense Against the Dark Arts class yesterday, she asked me questions like, 'What did Malfoy do at school before?'"

“She’s conducting a risk assessment,” Nietzsche analyzed. “She’s drafting an assessment form by combining her past actions and personality.”

Based on Umbridge's previous questioning of each professor, she may use this assessment form to consider the future study arrangements for those 'suspected Death Eaters' or 'suspected associates':

For example, once a student's score reaches a certain level, they will be prohibited from learning certain magic or potions.

“It’s not just me, there are others too. Who knows if they’ll bring up his old arrogant and domineering ways?” Harry said, rubbing his head.

The last light in the basement went out with a crisp "Knox," and Nietzsche, standing on the spiral staircase, could still hear the crisp sound of winged keys clattering together in the air.

It was as if their souls were locked behind the heavy wooden door, making the doorbell ring loudly...

Goodnight, Harry. I hope you succeed.

Goodnight, Nietzsche.

Chapter 325 Lily, Snape and Malfoy

October was about to end amidst storms and torrential rain, and Hermione was busier than ever. Since becoming a prefect, she had many more things to do, so her hair was even more disheveled than during the holidays.

After all, that tuft of brown, slightly wavy long hair was the real thing, and Nietzsche only needed to observe whether it had been styled to determine Hermione's recent condition.

From first-year students to seventh-year students preparing for the NWETs exams, everyone wears an armor charm containing rune magic on their chest. During class, it looks like a silver scimitar, only emitting a blue-white light when needed.

"What is that?" Snape finally couldn't contain himself during the last Potions class on Halloween.

The blinding silver reflections made him squint, and it was obvious that the people in the classroom were also divided into several groups by these amulets.

“A talisman,” Neville gasped, barely daring to breathe, “It’s very secure, it won’t fall into the cauldron…”

“No, I meant the pattern on it,” Snape said.

“It is like the Neven serpent.”

This is the emblem of the Army of Upright Gentlemen: a giant snake with three ferocious heads and a spiral tail like a spring, which looks as if it is pouncing on its prey with three pairs of eyes staring at it.

At the very bottom, there's a line of small print that says, "Don't step on me."

These are all amulets that Nietzsche personally modified; wearing them means 'this person is protected'.

“How interesting. This reminds me of something.” Snape bent down and examined it for a moment, then said softly, “The Dark Lord’s Mark. Anyone who is marked with it obeys the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters are also under the Dark Lord’s protection.”

The professor glanced at Gryffindor, so Harry straightened his back and stared back without fear.

“That’s the difference…” Harry muttered.

Because it was a deliberate murmur, the sound was several decibels louder than a real whisper, making it quite noticeable in the usually quiet Potions classroom.

“What?” Snape turned his head to look at him.

"It's like the difference between aconite and belladonna. Although they look very similar, one is a toxic ingredient, while the other is non-toxic and used to activate the effects of other ingredients, mainly for catalysis," Harry said haltingly.

This is actually one of the methods Nietzsche taught him: even sarcasm should have a Snape-like flavor.

That's right, Harry needs to shed some of James's influence, at least in his way of speaking, he should incorporate some potion slang, and if possible, he should also think about how to add some of Lily's influence.

"Oh no, we're going to lose points again," Hermione said calmly.

“What is the most Lily-like quality in Harry?” Nietzsche asked the person next to him as he pulled his wand from the cauldron.

“That stubbornness?” Hermione turned her head, looked past Lavender at the table behind her, and continued, “It’s not the appearance... Harry showed us the album Hagrid gave us, and the only thing that could be called ‘similar’ is the eyes.”

Snape stopped in front of Harry's table, so Ron hid behind the cauldron.

“Five points deducted from Gryffindor,” Snape said coldly. “Let me give you a hint: although aconite is poisonous, it can be used as a milder remedy, such as in the case of wolfsbane medicine.”

Malfoy and the others were seated in the front row, close to the podium, but a certain distance away from the others.

Nietzsche saw Malfoy suddenly raise his head and look at the professor's back with a complicated expression, as if he were saying that Malfoy could actually be like aconite.

“Relieving the symptoms and detoxifying are two different things,” Harry said.

“So you think you’re good enough to be the cure…” Snape scoffed. “How presumptuous! Listen, Potter, whatever you said to Umbridge, don’t bring it into my classroom.”

"Then keep deducting points."

Harry adopted an indifferent expression, leaned back in his chair, and shrugged.

“Even if you deduct all my points, it won’t change one fact—I hate Death Eaters.” He lowered his head, letting only the crucible be reflected in his emerald green eyes, and murmured, “What aconite cannot suppress is neurotoxins.”

Nietzsche couldn't tell for a moment whether it was Harry's performance or his genuine thoughts.

As Harry glared defiantly at Snape, Nietzsche caught a jolt in the professor's steps, as if a carriage had been jolted by a stone on a muddy road.

Snape's bright green eyes narrowed into slits, and instead of pressing his advantage or continuing the argument, he backed down.

Hermione packed up the enhancement potion she had prepared, yawned, and seemed to be marveling at how easy the potions within the scope of the Owls exam were.

"It seems the professor still doesn't care," she said disappointedly as Snape threw off his robes and walked onto the podium.

"To be precise, they cared too much. Don't forget that Snape has been protecting Harry in secret all along." Nietzsche didn't think his plan had failed; on the contrary, he felt it was progress.

Snape has no reason to protect Malfoy to maintain his Death Eater identity; he's more likely repaying a favor.

Double agent? That's ancient history. Nietzsche never needed Snape to continue working for Voldemort. Why bother with anything more than fists?

The more Snape protected Malfoy and the others, the angrier the others became.

"I really don't understand why they can still stay in school!" After class, Seamus with the afro wiped the traces of medicine off his face with his sleeve and shouted in the basement hallway, "My mom almost wouldn't let me come to school anymore."

The situation has now reversed, and the purebloods, led by Malfoy, have become the targets of hatred and revenge.

Nietzsche's eyes lit up. He thought of the danger assessment sheet in Umbridge's hand, so he threw a torch into the raging fire in front of him... That way it would burn bigger and bigger, much more useful than a match.

“They should get out of here!” Nietzsche cleared his throat and shouted in a rough voice, hiding behind Hermione. “I’m telling you, are we still afraid of those who bullied us?”

Statements devoid of any logic can easily evoke strong emotions in others, especially in certain situations.

"Who said they're scared! Who said that?!" came a quick response from the crowd.

"Fxxk! They're lucky they didn't get their revenge for all the old scores." The Gryffindors roared with all sorts of foul curses. "Beat those Death Eaters? Let's go, let's go!"

Marvolo stared at Nietzsche with a look of horror, as if he were seeing him for the first time... oh, indeed, it was the first time.

Hermione picked up the book to cover her face, and her worst fears came true—Marvolo, who was already restless, was becoming more and more distorted under Nietzsche's influence.

These supposedly upright gentlemen, aside from their ideals and goals, seem to have a rather less than gentlemanly approach to the process.

Chapter 326 Mal Muzan

In the Great Hall, the wizards, who had been complaining for some time, waited until the professors at the head table had left before making their move. Without a word, many used conversation as cover to quietly approach the Slytherin table...

"Why don't you go back with Ginny first?" Nietzsche noticed the change in seating and said softly, "I remember you're very busy right now."

Hermione is now a prefect in Gryffindor, and if anything happens, she has a reason to uphold the school's rules. However, she stood up but swayed and sat back down in her seat a few seconds later.

Why leave?

Since she and he were of equal status, there was even less reason for her to leave.

“No need.” Hermione gritted her teeth, frowned, and looked at him very seriously.

Nietzsche knew Hermione was forcing herself to adapt to certain methods, and when he saw the determination in those chocolate-colored eyes, he couldn't help but laugh self-deprecatingly, then shrugged as if nothing was wrong.

There was a power that penetrated his mind, filling it with a mix of emotions of gratitude and joy.

She is learning to grow, and supporting him is enough.

Someone noticed something was wrong. The witch Milison Burst, who was as big as a bear, immediately stood up to leave after noticing the unusual movement of people, but was pressed back down by Susan Burns a second later.

“Su...Susan?” Milison chuckled awkwardly, not even having time to wipe the oil off his face.

“My uncle, cousin, and aunt all died at the hands of a Death Eater, do you know why?” Susan of Hufflepuff said, pressing her shoulder, “because my last name is Burns of Wizengamo.”

"I didn't know about this. It sounds terrible. I'm so sorry."

Milison was nothing like the second-year student she once was. Back then, she used to bully other witches because of her size, but now she looked like a little bear with Hagrid's crossbow pointed at her chest.

Time cannot erase everything, especially hatred; the more it is suppressed, the more powerful it becomes when it is released.

Nietzsche always felt that these people were using Malfoy and his group, who were still alive, as classroom exercises lacked a certain... ferocity?

"Repel them immediately!!" Susan roared, having somehow drawn her wand and pressed it against Milison's back.

"boom!"

The once arrogant Milison Burstir knocked over a gold plate, sending it flying off the table along with food scraps.

This made Nietzsche a little unhappy. Of course, he was upset that the food was being wasted... If you're going to settle accounts, then settle accounts; if you're going to fight, then fight. Why did you have to flip the table?

Sorrow and hatred, like an undetectable choking gas, permeated the air, seeping into everyone's blood from the surface of their skin.

But there's no denying that the taste of revenge is absolutely sweet.

Nietzsche crossed his legs and winked at Marvolo, who was watching from the sidelines. Marvolo then slipped out of the auditorium, closing the door behind him.

Marvolo: Don't let the blood splatter on me.

"What do you want?" Malfoy drew his wand, but there were too many people to face, and he instinctively hesitated. So he shouted, "Where's the prefect? ​​Cedric! You're a prefect!!"

Cedric Diggory was a well-known good guy, but Malfoy forgot that he was a warrior who had witnessed Voldemort's birth.

To be honest, Hermione was the only one among everyone present who might soften her heart, but even this only prefect was forcing herself to learn to be ruthless.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’ve already met Mr. Malfoy once before.” Cedric grabbed Cho Chang and took a few steps back, disappearing into the crowd. He said calmly.