Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

“You weren’t killed outright,” Nietzsche couldn’t help but say.

“I was killed by a curse.” ’Moffin’ repeated what he had said at the old mansion in Gaunt, and held up his index finger to his ear with a look of surprise. “Listen carefully, He has actually been waiting for me all along.”

He knew that this Mofen was a figment of his imagination, used to sort out various clues.

However, others saw it differently. Slughorn simply saw Nietzsche sitting on the sofa with lifeless eyes, talking to himself like a madman.

“But your soul is still here…” Nietzsche said, recalling, “You can still use magic!”

"Why?" Morfen pointed at herself, shouting frantically, "Because I am a true pureblood? You know He is right there waiting for me! How I am in so much pain!"

The other party... no, actually Nietzsche was constantly questioning himself.

“Because that curse also left your soul here.” He said softly, his hesitation causing Mofen across from him to freeze in place as well.

Moreover, perhaps the entire dark magic originated from the Deathly Hallows.

Moffin sat down again, his face covered in maggots wriggling among the rotting flesh. Nietzsche hated this amplified ability and helplessly poured himself another glass of expensive mead.

The alcohol began to evaporate in his blood, and the hazy, dazed feeling lessened Nietzsche's concentration.

"So that means Voldemort had already come into contact with the Deathly Hallows..." A sense of foreboding crept into his mind.

But Morfen didn't stop, continuing to shout in that arrogant tone typical of purebloods, countless thoughts emerging from her mouth, each thread connecting all the clues:

Did Dumbledore also come into contact with the Deathly Hallows?

"Grendel is more than just the principal's friend!"

Where is the Deathly Hallows? What is their purpose?

The floor of the Slug Club slammed under Slughorn's feet, and with 'Moffen' yelling, Nietzsche's irritation only intensified.

"Shut up!!" Nietzsche roared.

He gulped down the thick liquor, and after the roar, the figure opposite him gradually blurred and disappeared completely in the flickering firelight, which startled Slughorn behind him.

The professor, still in his pajamas, stumbled towards his bedroom and locked the door.

Slughorn: This madman isn't going to kill me tonight, is he?

Chapter 361 The Walking Library

From the sun's perspective, Nietzsche woke up at 11 a.m. He rubbed his heavy eye bags and accidentally kicked over a few wine glasses as he got up from the sofa... God knows how much he had drunk.

'Is this some kind of curse?' he thought to himself with a self-deprecating smile.

Having experienced so many major events, his keen sense of clues has gradually surpassed that of Sherlock. Faced with overly complicated thoughts, he sometimes needs to turn to alcohol to numb his nerves.

As soon as Nietzsche stepped out, a ginger-yellow stone came hurtling towards him.

“Krok Mountain?” He recognized his Persian cat at a glance and said with a smile, “I don’t have any food here.”

"Meow~" Crookshan rolled its eyes, pushed Nietzsche's face away with its two front paws, turned around and wiggled its butt as it walked away. Seeing that he was still standing there, it turned back and urged him a few more times.

He wandered aimlessly among the scattered crowd, experiencing life after leaving his student identity.

An hour later, Crookshan led him through the greenhouse, which resembled a crystal palace, and finally stopped at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, which was very close to the Whomping Willow. He hadn't been here for a long time.

Hermione had spread a mat on the sun-drenched lawn and was sitting there engrossed in writing her thesis, holding a huge stack of books.

"You're finally here!" The joy that shone brightest in her eyes when she heard Crookshan's call was the most dazzling, but she quickly concealed it, frowned slightly, and sniffed the air. "Have you been drinking?"

“A little bit…” Nietzsche looked at her abusive appearance and couldn’t help but tease her, “I’m not as busy as you are.”

But he quickly regretted it, because Hermione's wand lit up and a tremendous force appeared out of nowhere, pulling him towards her.

“You’d better not forget your debt.” She first whispered in his ear in an extremely seductive voice, then quickly added loudly, “Too bad you can’t attend Professor Snape’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class.”

His expression changed very quickly, as if the whisper he had just heard was Nietzsche's hallucination.

However, his attention was focused on the exam papers on the ground, Hermione's OWLs exam papers from the previous semester.

These written tests weren't particularly difficult. Potions was about Polyjuice Potion, Transfiguration was about Transfiguration Charms... Each subject was interconnected and closely linked.

Now that no one was bothering them, Daphne was somewhere dealing with documents, and the Weasley twins were probably studying some magical artifacts. Nietzsche suddenly felt that just watching Hermione retake her exams was a pleasure.

Of course, the key point is the 'make-up exam,' which is the source of the joy.

The history of magic, on the other hand, examines wand legislation, which involves the history of the fairy rebellion and the origin of the wand.

"Is the Elder Wand the first wand in wizarding history?" Nietzsche's mind was filled with thoughts of the Deathly Hallows, and he almost instinctively blurted out his thoughts.

If anyone else had heard this, they might have sneered and made some kind of sarcastic remark, but Hermione...

Hermione stopped writing; she seemed to be really thinking about the problem!

"Logically speaking, Professor Binns is a very rigorous professor. He would not regard The Tales of Beedle the Bard as a historical text, and there is no evidence to suggest that the Elder Wand was the first wand of European wizards."

This is how the two of them get along: no matter which one's thoughts are jumping around, the other can always keep up in an orderly manner.

The main reason is that Nietzsche never disliked Hermione's seriousness... Come on, that's called meticulousness, okay? Besides, he liked seeing her take certain strange questions so seriously.

“But the Elder Wand must exist,” Nietzsche pondered.

“Darling, that’s just a fairy tale…Does the Resurrection Stone even exist?” Hermione pointed at him with her wand. “Why are you acting like Luna from Ravenclaw, all neurotic?”

Nietzsche slapped his forehead: This is great! Now we don't even need to go to the library.

"How is the Resurrection Stone described in the book?" He quickly shook his head, suppressing the thoughts that had just surfaced in his mind.

"Let me think... Hmm~ Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to his second brother, Cadmus. Cadmus resurrected his beloved girl, but the resurrected person was in great pain and didn't truly belong to reality..."

Hermione spoke very slowly to make sure that Nietzsche, who seemed to be daydreaming, could hear her.

It must be said that her voice was absolutely beautiful. As the content, which was almost identical to the rest of the book, gradually surfaced, Nietzsche's answer became increasingly clear: the content gradually overlapped with 'Moffen'.

Nietzsche cupped her face and said very seriously, "I will definitely not be able to sleep if you are not by my side while I study."

Sometimes he just couldn't understand why anyone had ever looked down on Hermione and absurdly called her a 'nerd,' even though magic was with him! He just couldn't see how amazing Hermione was! So amazing! So amazing!

They truly are the most perfect combination, and he's certain that the two of them surpass the combination of Watson and Sherlock.

So... Hermione is practically a combination of Watson and Irene!

"Really?" Hermione tilted her head and took the words to heart. "Very good. Based on your performance, you've barely managed to pay off a debt."

"So that's how it is. The Resurrection Stone is the ring from the Gaunt family. Voldemort understood the purpose of the Resurrection Stone... Voldemort used it to create that curse." Nietzsche exhaled a breath of stale air, and the images in his mind became clearer.

The curse seemed to conjure up painful memories and false illusions, much like the 'Grim Reaper's conspiracy':

The second son, Cadmus, resurrected his beloved, but the other had no soul; she was merely a jumbled mess of tragic illusions, always separated from the real person by a veil.

This ethereal yet intensely real 'resurrection' drove Cadmus mad, ultimately leading to his suicide.

"You've seen it?" Hermione exclaimed.

Nietzsche nodded silently.

“It was a Horcrux. I destroyed it and left it in Gaunt... I didn’t know it was a Deathly Hallow.” He gave an awkward laugh, but didn’t seem to regret it at all.

Even if he could be resurrected, it seems like he doesn't have anyone he needs to resurrect, right?

Chapter 362 Is it too late to resign now?

Nietzsche had actually planned to visit the centaur tribe, but when he heard the bell ring at three o'clock in the afternoon, he had no choice but to rush to the underground classroom with Hermione.

The sixth-grade curriculum is different from previous years. It is not uniformly divided by colleges, but by grades... and elective courses are similar. Students need to choose NEWTs advanced courses under the guidance of the dean.

Therefore, when they walked out of the classroom into the corridor, they could see students from more than twenty different colleges.

"That's incredible! Professor Snape was actually an undercover agent before!" You could hear Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw discussing Defense Against the Dark Arts from a distance.

Snape's teaching was known for 'courage' and 'logical thinking'. Apart from the necessary magical learning, most of the time was spent explaining the psychological characteristics and coping methods of dark wizards, which involved a lot of experience gained during his undercover work.

Harry fared even worse, as he was constantly trained by Snape during the previous semester and was repeatedly used as a model in class.

The basement door opened, and Slughorn, stroking his walrus beard with a smile, warmly greeted the students in front of him who were attending the Advanced Potions NEWTs class.

Nietzsche stood beside the professor and noticed that when he saw Marvolo's face through the spiraling steam, he visibly swayed—clearly having a vivid memory of Voldemort's youthful appearance.

“Harry.” Slughorn shouted loudly towards the Gryffindor area, his head down, stirring the potion in the cauldron.

The other person stopped chatting and looked at the podium with Mavolo, both puzzled.

“You…” Slughorn hesitated for a moment before cautiously saying, “It’s nothing. I heard from Snape that you learned some potions during the summer vacation, so I came to see what you were up to. Can you identify these potions?”

Harry first looked at the colorless and odorless solution in the first crucible and the mud-like potion in the second crucible.

"It seems to be a vomiting agent and...and a pure, original compound decoction." He pondered for a while before slowly giving the answer.

“Not bad, very good!” Slughorn seemed somewhat dejected. “You and your mother both have great talent, and Lily was just as smart back then, so what about the last one?”

Harry sniffed the smell and shook his head blankly.

"I haven't drunk it," he replied.

Nietzsche thought to himself: Wait a minute, did I just reveal something? So Snape's Potions lessons were just about letting you try out all sorts of potions?!

By the way, if the teacher and student are Harry and Snape, then it wouldn't be surprising.

The third crucible had a peculiar smell, with a mother-of-pearl-like luster, much like an aphrodisiac known as a 'love potion'. If you smelled it closely, you could discern the fresh scent of freshly picked fruit with dew on it, and...

Is it pudding? Why does Hermione taste like pudding?

However, Nietzsche's curiosity suddenly kicked in, and he turned his attention to Harry's classmate, Marvolo Sisyphus.

“Actually, it’s an aphrodisiac.” Nietzsche gestured for Harry to sit down, then continued the professor’s words, “The scent of this potion varies from person to person and is very difficult to discern… Sisyphus, what do you smell?”

All that could be heard was the sound of books falling down in unison, and the crucible being pushed around with a clanging sound. Everyone straightened their backs.

Nietzsche saw that Marvolo's face gradually darkened, but the other man only glared coldly at Slughorn, as if the innocent professor was deliberately teasing him.

In fact, the scent of love potion is quite pleasant. Although it varies from person to person, it's a scent that everyone likes and it's not particularly unpleasant... Just like how people in love can't see each other's flaws.

"Bloody lollipop," Marvolo summarized briefly.

The strange flavor drew odd looks from many people, but Slughorn nearly knocked the crucible over.

The next lesson involved students making their own "Living Hell Soup," and Professor Slughorn even gave them a small bottle of freshly brewed Felix Felicis as a prize.

Of the entire NEWTS Potions Advanced Course, only three people had a very smooth process: