But I can't be happy, after all, I know that listing something on the shelves means losing revenue.
However, the only thing I can guarantee is that it won't be suddenly abandoned. If you don't believe me, you can go to the forum or leave a message in the comments section to find out about Fox's previous books. The only difference between his pen name and his current one is the character "会" (huì).
Well, there's not much to say. This is my first time publishing, so I can only humbly ask that if you find it interesting and watch it, please give it a try.
I don't need any donations, just subscriptions are enough QwQ
Actually, the elements of the fox are quite mixed. At first, I wrote it for fun, mixing Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and Marvel. When I found that people were reading it, I continued to write about smaller things.
I'm also planning to write a Hogwarts fanfiction version of Breaking Bad (Gusenberg is, of course, our Professor Snape).
But later I realized that I wasn't very good at controlling the plot, so I could only pick an interesting setting to write about. So sometimes, I really appreciate everyone's comments and corrections... at least it's not a single-player game.
The previous book was around 140 million words long and ended, so it won't be abandoned.
Regarding future developments, there might be less sweetness than in the first book, but many classic characters will appear, such as Eileen and Sherlock's archenemy ( ̄▽ ̄).
What will become of Quirrell? (You guess?)
-----
I'm begging you one more time: release it on Friday, I promise I won't abandon it. After all, I'm just a nobody trying to get all my work done, so... let's go!
Chapter 43 Dangerous Quidditch
For ordinary people, what is worth stealing is nothing more than readily available material things, including but not limited to money, jewelry, and food.
For the privileged class, what is worth stealing is the spoils of others' victories, but that is an ideological battle.
And what about the wizards?
It might be Galleons, but a powerful wizard like Dumbledore wouldn't deliberately protect these, so it's most likely some kind of magic... similar to the sword in the stone and Merlin's scepter in the Arthurian legend.
Nietzsche suddenly realized that he had to start with the culture of wizards.
"We have to go, the Quidditch match is about to start!" Theodore hurriedly said, and immediately ran off with his friends. "If we're too slow, we won't get any good spots."
"You guys go first, I..."
Nietzsche didn't actually want to brave the biting cold wind just to watch a game of aerial football.
Harry patted him on the shoulder, a hot dog covered in ketchup by Seamus dangling from his mouth, and walked out. He really hoped Nietzsche would come to see his first match.
After all, there aren't many areas where he can surpass his opponent.
"Since it's a game today, I might as well mention that I'm the newly appointed Seeker for Gryffindor."
“Let’s go. Next time I’m in History of Magic class, I’ll ask Professor Binns about wizarding culture. It won’t make a difference if we take a little more time,” Hermione teased. “You’re not just not going because you’re jealous, are you?”
Envy? Him?
Nietzsche turned to look at Harry, who was chatting and laughing with his friends. The joy and tension on Harry's face were quite unusual. He shrugged and, with Hermione's help, finally walked out of the castle.
Passing through the courtyard and walking along the cobblestone path out the gate, you can see a huge stadium in the distance.
On the day of the competition, the whole school was given a holiday, which explains why the wizards were so happy. The cold wind, carrying snowflakes and rain, stung Nietzsche's face. He reluctantly freed his hands to hold onto his wizard's hat to prevent it from being blown away by the wind.
“Take it…” Hermione suddenly shoved the jar of jam containing the bellflower flames into his hand.
My frozen hands gradually regained their pain, and only after feeling returned did they feel warmth.
Nietzsche pursed his lips, supporting the bottom of the bottle with his left hand, while Hermione placed her right hand on the cap. The two of them, holding the bottle for warmth between their arms, headed toward the Quidditch pitch with the others.
Unbeknownst to the two, several lion cubs behind them were secretly gossiping about them.
Parvati snorted, his words unspoken: This is what you call a friend?
The stadium is oval-shaped, and the spectator seating was divided into four sections by the students themselves. Each college had its own banner. With so many people, finding a high platform that was second only to the faculty seating and the lecture hall was no easy task.
However, Nietzsche soon had nothing to worry about, because he saw Daphne secretly waving in their direction.
“Granger, right?” She looked the girl in front of her over carefully after seeing the two of them approach. “If you’re not worried about gossip, then this is the best spot.”
very nice?
She's still not quite as good as her... Daphne is very confident in her looks.
"Why worry? You know, quite a few freshmen in your college like to learn from us."
This wasn't Hermione's first time seeing Daphne; she had seen her in previous encounters with Malfoy, clearly indicating that Daphne was part of that pure-blood group.
But what's strange is—why was she being so polite?
“I’d heard about it already.” Daphne was watching the small goal where the players were leaving the field, but her mind was still on the two of them. “So how much ‘joining fee’ did you get those people to pay…?”
Hermione looked at her like she was an idiot, and then said, "There are no fees, it's all up to your interests... If you find it troublesome, you can leave anytime."
Is there such a good thing? !
This was the first time Daphne had heard of such a rule.
“Aren’t you worried about other things? Like learning something and then leaving, or becoming a traitor…” Her voice was soft, always maintaining aristocratic manners. “If you want to achieve great things, you can’t be so easy to get started.”
"If you want to be sarcastic, just say so. There's no need to beat around the bush."
"No, no, no, you misunderstood. I was just... curious, that's all. After all, freedom without constraints is just a pile of loose sand."
Nietzsche didn't bother joining the conversation; he simply stood beside Hermione, looking around at every corner.
However, he also understood Daphne's purpose. Clearly, she intended to use the topic of the 'study group' to ease tensions, which was a mature approach from a smart person.
Even Nietzsche sometimes admired her...
Because Daphne can truly let go of things just to achieve her goals.
"The biggest constraint is the lack of constraints, and the most expensive things are the free ones." Hermione's lips curled up, quite pleased with herself.
Daphne didn't understand at first, so she could only keep those words in mind.
She glanced at Nietzsche without leaving a trace, and seeing that he was lost in thought, she breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed that her guess was right for the time being—the only way to ease tensions was to start with Granger.
"Not enough...far from enough..."
"what?"
“Nothing lasts without shared interests,” Daphne suddenly said in a haughty tone. “Purebloods are always more united than you think… Oh, they’re coming out. Let’s focus on the game.”
Nietzsche's fingers tapped rhythmically on the bottom of the bottle in sync with the shouts of the crowd.
What appears to be a threat or boast is actually a reminder that while her actions don't quite qualify as taking sides, she is at least taking things seriously... or rather, she is finding a way out for herself.
Hermione wasn't stupid, and she gradually understood what Hermione was trying to say.
She watched the team members walk out one by one and thought, 'That's right, they're currently only at the stage of learning from each other. If they make breaking down the barriers between the academies their ultimate goal, they definitely won't go far.'
Hermione knew she wasn't particularly good at politics, so she couldn't think of any good ideas for the time being.
"Alright, folks... Oh, and could the Gryffindor team please raise the 'Porter Will Win' banner higher?" A bright and cheerful voice came from above. "That's right! I heard this is Gryffindor's secret weapon this year!"
"First to emerge was Wood, followed by Chaser Angelina and Aria... They're not only incredibly skilled, they're also stunningly beautiful!"
"Lee Jordan!!"
Professor McGonagall immediately became furious upon hearing the frivolous whistles from the audience.
The audience sighed in disappointment.
"Sorry, Professor." Jordan pouted, then became serious under the professor's watchful eye. "Alright, alright, everyone, let's save our whistling for now, because... Harry Potter is here!"
The match officially began as Mrs. Hooch blew her whistle in the middle of the field.
Hermione and Daphne didn't say anything more, and simply watched the game with their own thoughts.
A dozen brooms carried players into the air, the Quaffle flew back and forth between the chasers, and the runners hit the ball back and forth between the batters, each time hitting the opposing team's star player.
But the problem is... who watches a game like that?!
Nietzsche squinted, gazing at the sky. Without binoculars, he could hardly see what the players were doing. He'd just seen Harry skim the ground, circling the field once, before disappearing into the clouds.
"Angelina catches the ball, great... Slytherin's goalkeeper, Blaitch, is charging at her! But he misses! Gryffindor scores!!"
Well, he could only imagine the scene by listening to Jordan's commentary.
Hermione cupped her hands and squinted at the Gryffindor banner. She spotted the tall giant holding several telescopes and waving at her.
"Hagrid is looking for me, I'll go over there for a bit..."
He then gave Daphne a polite smile, left the bottle containing the flames, and got up to leave.
Half an hour into the match, both Harry and Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs spotted the Golden Snitch, but Harry reacted faster, and the crowd watched their struggle and whispered among themselves.
"Foul! He fouled!" Warrington slammed his fist on his thigh.
Flint deliberately bumped into Harry, almost causing him to fall. This act angered everyone. Slytherins just frowned, looking displeased, while Gryffindor had already started yelling.
During halftime, Slytherin's Marcus was reprimanded by Mrs. Hodge, after which Gryffindor took a free kick.
"Aren't there any red cards?"
"What's a red card?" Warrington stopped shouting after hearing Nietzsche's reply.
"It means... he's sent off, so we need to substitute him."
“If only there were such a rule, you couldn’t leave the game unless you were injured.” He crossed his arms, looking disdainful. “That’s why Slytherin won; Marcus loves to play these kinds of tricks.”
Although it is despicable, it is indeed useful.
These people learn from a young age how to maximize their advantages within the bounds of the rules, and at any cost.
Slytherin Prefect Lucien Ball, standing nearby, disagreed with these ideas. He believed that Marcus Flint had perfectly embodied the Slytherin qualities—the ruthlessness to the end.
He leaned against the steps of the teachers' table and said with a smile, "But Slytherin's Quidditch matches, like the House Cup, have never been lost."
"Warrington, don't you want Slytherin to win?" Draco chimed in.
“At least I don’t want it this way!” Warrington clenched his fists, completely disregarding etiquette, and roared like a Quidditch thug, “Flint doesn’t deserve to be a Chaser!!”
Nietzsche found Warrington to be a good sportsman, which explains why he could get along so well with Wood of Gryffindor.
Suddenly, many people in the stands raised their hands, seemingly pointing to the same thing. Even Draco, wrapped in a scarf, noticed something was wrong...
Harry's broom started flipping wildly, and after a while it began to sway back and forth. Nietzsche saw Harry almost fall off several times, hanging on the flying broom.
"Haha, Potter's going to be in big trouble!"
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