Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

“I’ve left enough traces…they’ll find them, at least a seed will be left,” he said softly. “Our friends will eventually see the truth, and that won’t bother the others who echoed it.”

Those destined to meet will meet someday, and as for the wizards and ordinary people scattered around the world, their admiration for him will only fade with the passage of time.

Superman walked out of the crowd, and then quietly returned to the crowd.

"Having a home that truly belongs to me, and occasionally going out to seek excitement—that's the life I want." Under the influence of aphrodisiacs, Nietzsche revealed his true feelings.

He has three heads:

As Nietzsche would, he would hide away in a place and quietly love the things he cherished;

As Sherlock Holmes, when a problem arises that no one else can solve, he will suddenly rush in and treat resolving the chaos as a kind of 'excitement'.

As John, he would love a specific person.

Hermione snatched the bottle and, under Nietzsche's bewildered gaze, took the last sip of honey whiskey. Part of it slid down her tongue and into her throat, warming her stomach, while the rest returned to her mouth through her teeth.

The strong aroma of fruity pudding assaulted Nietzsche's nose.

'Have I smelled it somewhere before?' His last remaining consciousness was racing.

“You don’t intend to stay here all night, do you? It’s not a good idea to leave a lady sleeping outside.” Hermione hooked her arm around his and stood up, licking her lips.

“If you’re not afraid of being seen by others…” Nietzsche said.

Immediately afterwards, Nietzsche felt a weight on his shoulder. Looking at the girl who had jumped up in front of him, he instinctively reached out his arm and caught her in a princess carry.

Magic was with him---

“Actually, I’m going to test your magical abilities,” Hermione said gently.

“Then I shall gladly accept your offer, Minister… Apparition!” Nietzsche grabbed his wand from under her robe, and as soon as the spell was cast, he took a step forward.

Hermione had experienced the Apparition Charm before, but this time was completely different. Not only did she not have the feeling of being forcibly shoved into a rubber tube as she remembered, but she also saw a completely different and beautiful sight:

Everything around them began to distort, and Smaug and the golden dragon were thrown to their feet like two grains of sand.

Before she could even ponder why things were stretched into thin lines, Nietzsche's arm sank, and she found herself at the entrance to Hogwarts Castle.

The banquet had ended long ago, and the entire castle was at rest, with only a few oil lamps still lit beside the giant stone statues on the walls.

Hermione pulled him along, and they walked cheerfully through the Great Hall doors and up the moving staircase.

"Aren't you going back to the lounge?" Nietzsche felt that something was off.

"Shh!" she said, feigning nervousness. "Keep your voice down, or Filch might hear... Of course I'm not going to the lounge. It's two in the morning, and the fat lady will have already left."

This is a lie~

The fat lady, who is the gatekeeper of the Gryffindor common room, will not leave; at most, she will just be dozing off.

Nietzsche, however, failed to detect this obvious flaw and excuse. He now wished he could bury his face in Hermione's brown curls; the aphrodisiac left him with only one thought: 'Hermione is right.'

They tiptoed to the eighth floor and returned to the door of the Assistance Room.

"I need a bedroom with a shower, I need a bedroom with a shower, I need a bedroom with a shower." Hermione paced back and forth three times, quickly repeating her needs.

She spoke very quickly, as if more urgent than anyone else. Nietzsche had just seen the door appear when he was pushed inside.

Sure enough, a large bed had been added to the room, with red gauze curtains at the four corners connecting to the chandelier above. The bathroom area consisted of just a few screens, and judging from the shadows, there was a bathtub behind them.

"Wait for me." Hermione winked playfully.

The screen was actually quite low; Nietzsche, sitting on the bed, could see her head through the gap in the sheer curtains, and also the steam slowly rising from the bathtub. Then a wool trench coat was draped over the screen, followed by a white shirt and black sweatpants...

Terrible!

He covered his warm nose, closed his eyes, and lay down on the bed.

This was truly agonizing; just listening to Hermione splashing the water made him imagine an Eden made of water vapor.

After an unknown amount of time, Nietzsche suddenly felt a few drops of water fall on his face. Only then did he realize that Hermione, wrapped in a bath towel, was propped up on the bed, her smooth brown curly hair brushing against his face like feathers.

“Before saying ‘goodnight,’ there is one more thing you need to do.” Her voice was soft, but it was exceptionally clear to Nietzsche.

Hermione's skin, after being soaked in hot water, took on a translucent pink hue under the dim chandelier. She raised her knee against Nietzsche, and the weight of the two of them caused the soft mattress to sink in.

“You decide,” Nietzsche said politely.

“I already said, we still need to ‘do’ it.” Hermione said and then stepped forward.

Nietzsche slept soundly that night, and had a dream so sweet that he would never forget it.

(Meanwhile, Dumbledore couldn't find the toilet that night, which was filled with chamber pots.)

Chapter 389 Nietzsche, Refreshed and Invigorated

Nietzsche had a dream in which he came to an island made of snacks, where a sweet-smelling mist filled the air, and the pudding coast was washed by sticky honey whiskey.

The mist would gather in his palm into creamy marshmallows, and as if they had a mind of their own, they would guide his hand and automatically bring them to his mouth, and he could eat them endlessly.

When you're tired from playing, lie down on the beach made of strawberry pudding. As the whiskey washes ashore and envelops your body, you'll feel a sense of intoxication from the outside in, as if something is rushing out from the top of your head.

But dreams always come to an end. When Nietzsche fell into a drunken stupor in his dream, he slowly began to sober up in reality...

He opened his eyes and looked at the semi-transparent gauze curtain above his head. He first sniffed, but the sweet scent had completely disappeared, replaced by the fragrance of photinia. Then, he felt aches all over his body.

Then everything that happened last night flooded his mind, forcing him to recall those moving events.

"Waaaaah... Waaaaah?!"

Nietzsche was about to marvel at the romance of the previous night, but the words in his heart turned into sobs.

'My mouth is gagged,' he thought groggily.

So he licked it with his tongue and found it was just a piece of cloth that was wet with saliva, probably the one that was hanging on Hermione's body, and his mouth was stuffed full so he couldn't spit it out.

Since your mouth is blocked, you have to take it out, right?

The gears in his mind slowly began to turn, but when the thought of 'using his hands' came to fruition, he discovered something even more horrifying: both his hands were chained to the iron railings at the head of the bed.

Therefore, dreams are actually real.

Even more terrifying was that all he had was an embroidered pillow between his legs...

"Splash splash splash---"

Steam began to fill the room, and Nietzsche turned his head with difficulty to see Hermione taking a bath early in the morning.

"Awake?" She seemed to hear the sound of chains being pulled through the screen.

“Ughhhhhh! (What’s going on?)” Nietzsche rolled his eyes and howled as loudly as he could.

"Stop yelling, darling, and don't worry, it's the first day of the Christmas holiday, no one will come here...hehehe."

Hermione's voice was languid, yet it carried a hint of command, which silenced Nietzsche, who was momentarily confused and suffering from back pain—his intuition told him it was best not to remain in this passive position.

The shadow of the screen clearly showed the girl raising her long legs from the bathtub, splashing water from top to bottom with her hands.

This half-concealed allure made Nietzsche acutely aware of a subtle, unspeakable change within himself:

He...boki...

After waiting for about fifteen minutes, Nietzsche heard the soft rustling of clothes against his skin. He turned around and saw Hermione, dressed in a shirt, limping to the bedside.

In terms of temperament, she has undergone some indescribable changes. If Nietzsche had to describe it, the only word that could sum it up is "alluring".

Hermione's eyes gleamed with cunning. She propped her head up with her elbow and leaned against the headboard. Instead of rushing to help untie the ropes, she carefully pulled her own undergarments out of Nietzsche's mouth.

“You weren’t this disgusted last night,” she said, putting her legs up on the pillow.

“Last night?” Nietzsche shifted his body, forcing a smile. “I do remember it was your order… Imperius? That doesn’t seem like your style… Let me guess, you mixed the aphrodisiac into mead to mask the scent.”

Hermione nodded haughtily, casually grabbed the drool scattered on the bedside table, and immediately stamped it as a reward for his correct answer.

This is the aphrodisiac processed by Mavolo; its effect is not significant, merely amplifying the suggestive effect.

But for Nietzsche and Hermione, that was enough, and he remembered all those crazy memories from last night, from their date in the Hebrides to their play in the Room of Requirement.

He even clearly remembers how he used his mouth to pick up the 'package' and taste the 'marshmallow'.

When he lowered his head and looked in the direction Hermione had first glanced as she approached, he noticed a small patch of crimson blood on the pillow. Considering her gait, the implication was clear:

Hermione went from being a 'young girl' to a 'lady'.

“So—why don’t you take another day off?” Nietzsche suggested gently.

Hermione paused for a moment, then gave Nietzsche, who seemed to be possessed by Mycroft, a look that said, "You know what's good for you." She snapped her fingers, and the chains on the headboard railing were released and transformed back into the original silk bed curtains.

This remark was very helpful, at least it pleased Hermione.

Fortunately, Nietzsche's first reaction in this situation was not to show off or boast, but to show concern right where he was in his heart.

“I’ve done my part in spoiling you,” Hermione said. “But it’s alright for now. I’ll just drink a few potions later, so it won’t delay our trip to France today.”

Pain? She calls this love?

Nietzsche stood up, clutching his pillow, and a casual glance at his body revealed four or five teeth marks.

Okay, okay, Hermione, all the benefits of taking good care of your teeth are showing on her now. She has two on her left arm and three on her right, and that doesn't even include the stinging in her shoulders and neck...

He stood there in a dilemma, unable to even free his hands to put on some clothes.

Hermione didn't seem to find anything wrong with it. She was still reclining on the edge of the bed like a European noblewoman, staring straight at him as if she were admiring an ancient Greek statue.

"Couldn't you have just avoided this for a moment!" Nietzsche said angrily, clutching his pillow.

"Tch, what's there to be ashamed of?" Hermione's expression only became more mischievous upon hearing this. She casually remarked, "In this matter, I'm an adult wizard. Logically speaking, shouldn't I have the upper hand?"

"Then I...then I...you said it yourself."

Seeing her teasing expression, Nietzsche gritted his teeth, threw the pillow at her, fumbled for his clothes on the sheets, and stiffly walked toward the bathroom.

“I didn’t expect you to still have energy. Do you need my help?” Hermione had noticed the obvious change in him, so she turned around and watched him hurry by, saying, “Don’t worry, I can cast spells without a wand.”

"No thanks!" Nietzsche nearly tripped.

He went behind the screen, changed the water in the basin, and then realized that there seemed to be only one bath towel...

Hmm~ Oh well, I'll just have to make do with it.

Nietzsche soaked in the bathtub, unconsciously reminiscing about the madness of the previous night. Fortunately, the unique aphrodisiac preserved part of his sanity, allowing him to immerse himself more fully in the experience, so the memories were very clear.

Every collision, every soft, cotton-candy-like sensation, was deeply etched into his mind.