Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Therefore, during a practice session on Friday, Nietzsche had become completely accustomed to the speed at which his consciousness was falling.

There's an advantage to temporarily replacing Professor Slughorn in Potions class: he can take the opportunity to specify the types of potions to be made, such as Polyjuice Potion, which can cover for Hermione while also relieving her stress.

When he got up and went into the underground classroom, he saw the pumpkin lanterns and bat decorations flying everywhere, and he knew that Halloween was coming soon.

"What potions did Darth Vader assign you as homework last month?" Professor Slughorn asked, giving his last class before Halloween, seemingly intending to check if his students had fallen behind.

“Compound decoction, sir.” Neville excitedly raised his hand.

“Oh? That does indeed meet NEWTs assessment standards.” Slughorn nodded slowly, affirming Nietzsche’s teaching content.

The professor, with his hands behind his back and his plump body dragging, first walked up to Susan Burns, whose face was flushed red. The Ravenclaw witch seemed particularly uneasy as the first person to be tested, her hips constantly shifting on the stool.

Everything is going according to plan.

The process of making Polyjuice Potion is very lengthy, but Hermione can make the potions well during class time, and Nietzsche can collect the finished potions to provide her with enough spare doses.

"Hmm...brown...but not very viscous, too much liquid herb was added." Slughorn extended his wand and gently stirred the unadded Polyjuice Potion in the cauldron.

The 'raw material' refers to the tissue structure of the deformed object; without these parts, the compound decoction would be nothing more than a pot of boiling mud.

Although Professor Slughorn is overly selfish, he is academically sound and can identify the strengths and weaknesses of each potion after spending just one minute in front of each student.

"It failed?" Susan was a little downcast.

Professor Slughorn hesitated for a moment, then cleared his throat and decided to offer advice and comfort.

"No, the process for this potion is quite lengthy. It's a good start for your first attempt at a NEWTs-level potion. You can boil it for another ten minutes to make it thicker, but the quantity will be reduced... 80 points, Miss Burns."

Nietzsche winked at Hermione, who understood and memorized the information.

Any medicine that's just barely passable will do its best to salvage the situation, since Hermione won't have time to make these Polyjuice Potions later on.

Professor Slughorn was a smart man. He spoke very well to everyone, even those who failed, and offered valuable advice to those who excelled in various events.

Even Ron Weasley, a Potions class slacker, can pass because of his 'effort'... Anyway, for him, not getting points deducted is a good thing.

Finally, Slughorn walked over to Neville, where he stared at the pot of dark brown mud, lost in thought.

“Professor?” Neville asked tentatively, nervously.

"I'm thinking, child... although I believe you must be working very hard, but..." The professor suddenly began to drawl, deliberately creating suspense and attracting the attention of the surrounding students.

"Oh my god, oh my god... I must have missed some step in the middle, my memory is always so bad."

Neville was so anxious he was almost in tears, seemingly already anticipating the outcome of seeing the Gryffindor hourglass missing a few rubies when he went to the Great Hall after class.

But Professor Slughorn simply scooped some powder from the grinding cup, sprinkled it into the relit crucible, and then stirred it slightly with his wand in front of everyone.

“But you just added too little dried leech powder, child. Don’t worry, your potion hasn’t become strange, has it?” Professor Slughorn said kindly.

The most thrilling episode yet, but thankfully without any real danger.

After class, Nietzsche collected the potions from Marvolo, Harry, Hermione, and Parvati into separate bottles and began to gradually improve the barely passable potions, following his previous advice.

"Aww!"

When he wasn't looking, Hermione pulled out a few more strands of hair.

"I said, don't you have hair?" Nietzsche covered his head, though it didn't hurt much, it was very sudden.

“Obviously not enough.” Hermione eagerly tossed a strand of hair into the bottle and shook it gently. “As expected of you, you can still scheme for your own benefit while you’re acting as a substitute professor.”

To make a better observation, she specifically chose a transparent glass bottle, where she could see that the mud-like liquid containing Nietzsche's hair was slowly turning into a clear sapphire blue, with tiny golden particles floating in it.

This is Nietzsche's compound decoction, like lake water mixed with gold dust.

"It shouldn't taste too bad, right?" he asked curiously.

“Honey, it can’t taste too bad~” Hermione brought the bottle to her nose and said with delight, “It’s a bit like oak barrels that have been fermented with whiskey, with a touch of berry acidity... It’ll probably be a little on the sour side.”

"It sounds like Honduran hand-drip coffee."

Hermione ignored his banter and reluctantly plugged the bottle back in.

"You'd better hurry, these medicines will only last for five days at most." She used her arms for support and sat down in the chair.

Her shapely legs and white over-the-knee socks swayed back and forth, drawing Nietzsche's thoughts back to the train where they had just met, the leather boots that had just reached his calves, the boots that had stepped on his body at that time.

Of course, it would be even better with a Gryffindor tie...

Ah no, I can't keep thinking about this, Nietzsche's brain warned.

“As long as you don’t give it away.” He stiffly looked away, but his body betrayed him by leaning to the side so that Hermione’s shoe could barely reach him.

“Me? Are you kidding? Only I know you best, like how you like being with me…” Hermione said.

“Alright, I got it!” Nietzsche raised his hands in surrender. “Sometimes I even doubt whether Irene Adler ever told you anything, even though she’s vanished since Moriarty’s downfall.”

Hermione twirled a strand of hair with her finger, smiled mysteriously, and said, "Who knows?"

Chapter 372 Hermione's Day

The next morning, Hermione sneaked out of the dormitory and went to the underground classroom to drink Polyjuice Potion.

Upon tasting the sapphire blue liquid shimmering with golden sand, her tongue first detected a subtle aroma of fermented whiskey and berry acidity, followed by a nutty aftertaste... It seems Nietzsche had quite a few layers of flavor.

Not all compound decoctions taste good; their flavor depends solely on the ingredients they are used to make them.

This is very unfair: Death Eaters are comfortable pretending to be good people, while those pretending to be Death Eaters feel like they are drinking poison even when taking Polyjuice Potion.

Immediately, her internal organs began to boil like liver soup made by the centaur, and her intestines began to churn.

"Ugh—" Hermione covered her mouth, trying to suppress the urge to gag.

Then, her body began to change. It was as if countless leeches suddenly appeared beneath her skin, sucking the flesh and blood from her chest and then spitting it out elsewhere, thus sculpting her into a figure with Nietzsche's height and muscular build, and...

Hermione's face immediately turned red, and she squeezed her legs together.

Finally, she transformed her original dress and tie, successfully becoming Nietzsche-John Holmes. On the bright side, she's now an assistant to a potions professor, allowing her to gain even more knowledge.

At seven o'clock in the morning, Professor Slughorn walked into the classroom on time, and Hermione quickly put on the fake beard she had prepared.

“Not bad at all.” He twirled his walrus whiskers with his fingers, his belly bulging from the sandwiches. “Vida, you should try the food at school instead of staring at the wine my students give me all day.”

Hermione remained silent, silently noticing Nietzsche's newfound hobby.

“I’d like to,” she said curtly.

Slughorn walked over, clutching his stomach, and began preparing to teach the other students, his small eyes glancing sideways every now and then.

'He likes to drink?' Hermione had a mischievous idea forming in her mind. 'By the way, I just turned 18 this year...'

"Oh, and don't forget the party tonight," Slughorn suddenly added.

Next came class time. Hermione was very careful with her disguise; she was already quite adept at using Nietzschean thinking to solve problems, so no one else noticed anything amiss.

However, she always felt that Professor Slughorn seemed to be very wary of her, speaking in a very humble manner, which was not at all like the tone of a normal professor speaking to an assistant. She had not noticed it before, but now that she was face to face with him, it was particularly noticeable.

Hermione screamed inwardly, "Nie! Zack!"

It was obvious that he was just playing a prank, teasing everyone like Peeves. It was strange, he wasn't like this before... But Hermione could only attribute this behavior to 'venting'.

After hurriedly filling in for Professor Slughorn and teaching the fourth-grade students, the day's work was just beginning.

After Hermione finished class, she felt unwell, so she sneaked into the prefect's bathroom to change back into her student form and jumped into the NEWTs Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Professor Ashnep walked in just as the school bell rang, and wherever he went, the curtains around the windows were automatically drawn.

"Are you coming tonight?" Daphne asked, her voice low and heavy as she leaned on the table.

"What?" Hermione rubbed her head, still not quite recovered, her mind still not having switched from 'Nietzsche mode' to 'Granger mode'.

"Professor Slughorn invited some people to a Halloween dinner, but he couldn't find you, so he sent me to inquire."

Hermione squinted, giving the Potions Professor no room to consider his invitation, like a piece of waste paper being shredded into countless strips.

“It’s pointless,” she said bluntly. “I don’t want to waste my time playing these games.”

In fact, if she went, the timelines would clash, and she would be in trouble as if she had been given a time-shifting spell: Nietzsche and Hermione could not be in the same place at the same time.

“Okay, I’ll tell the professor…” Daphne said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re becoming more and more like him.”

Hermione was about to speak, but when she saw Snape turn around sternly, she immediately shut her mouth.

In this class, Professor Snape dissected the essence of Dark Magic in detail and used his own experience to explain 'how to transform an ordinary standard spell into traditional Dark Magic'.

“Last time we said that standard spells would fall with the fall of a wizard… I think I don’t need to repeat the point about ‘personal will’ anymore; your Professor Quirrell has already explained that,” Snape said. “Harry, come to the front.”

Harry Potter walked up to him, seemingly used to being displayed as a prop.

"Sword of the Unseen!" At Snape's signal, he loudly recited the dark magic spell, and an invisible and sharp blade sliced ​​the podium in two.

“Very well, go down... Do you think I’d give Gryffindor extra points? What are you thinking? Do you think other professors would give you extra points just because your grades haven’t slipped?” Snape turned around and continued, “Now, your goal is to practice.”

“But…Professor, you said you invented this when you were at your darkest, most wicked.” Some students were resistant to this kind of magic.

However, Professor Snape was unconcerned; he didn't think it would be harmful for his students to learn some real dark magic.

"So I'm going to tell you about the conflict between dark wizards, dark magic, and learners," he said coldly, clearing his throat.

The fact that dark magic was invented by dark wizards and that the inherent desire to "tear the other person apart" would make them even more corrupt is an objective fact. However, for learners, it is a subjective factor.

For example, an ordinary learner who masters the Divine Strike Without Shadows spell might not necessarily tear apart an ordinary person, but a dark wizard would definitely want to tear apart an innocent person for their own amusement...

This is Snape's explanation of Defense Against the Dark Arts: You don't have to use dark magic casually, but you must know it, and you must maintain a balance between emotion and reason.

During class, Hermione could at least find it relaxing; the evenings were the most painful.

As she instinctively ran into the girls' restroom and drank her second bottle of compound decoction, she bumped into Slughorn, who was hurrying upstairs, as she came out.

A flicker of surprise crossed the other person's eyes, prompting Hermione to silently apologize.

“Oh, uh…you know that’s the girls’ restroom, right?” Slughorn looked at the stiff 'Darth Vader' in front of him, and driven by his survival instinct, continued, “I’m looking for you. Dinner is about to start.”

Although Slughorn had heard that Death Eaters were more or less abnormal, he never expected that the one beside him was so insanely crazy.

The stair landing railing was filled with pumpkin lanterns, and their cold light made Hermione's expression appear unpredictable.

She was just a little frustrated and annoyed, but Professor Slughorn seemed to think she was about to take action at any moment.

“It’s Halloween Eve, and these decorations… you know, they’re not as bright as they used to be.” Hermione put her hands in her pockets, clenched them into fists, and vented her anger, trying her best to look annoyed.