Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

(PS: There's another chapter being baked...)

Chapter 44 Blind Spot Discovers Nietzsche

This turn of events sparked discussion among the Slytherins.

"Harry's broom got broken?"

“Impossible. Flying brooms can’t break unless they’re snapped,” Warrington explained. “They’re made by wizards with spells, not Muggle carriages, and each company has a different braking spell!”

Yes, each wizard has different standards for casting spells, which leads to a wide variation in the quality of magical items.

The flying brooms produced by trading companies such as Comet and Nimbus may even bear patented spells, such as the Unbreakable Brake Charm and Horton Cage's Brake Charm, so the flying broom itself is a tradable magical commodity.

Nietzsche already knew the reason, and now... he was certain that the loss of control of the flying broomsticks was related to a curse.

“Only spells can affect objects to which spells have been cast.” Nietzsche lowered his head, looking down at Draco on the steps.

"What do you mean?!" Draco laughed loudly. "Me, Nietzsche? If I had that ability, I would have used it on you secretly long ago!"

“I didn’t think you had that ability either, but I just felt that… to choose to act under these circumstances, he must be the one who hates Harry Potter the most,” Nietzsche instructed. “Take out your wands first.”

The order for Warrington and Theodore to prepare their wands was to prepare for the worst.

Harry's broom is now completely out of control, with only one hand hanging from it. Those who discovered this only saw it with binoculars because it was flying too high.

"Put away your wand..." Lucien's face turned cold.

“Who dares!” Nietzsche strode up to him, ignoring the man’s status. “Get your wands ready. As soon as Potter falls, use the Levitation Charm and the Barrier Charm together.”

"I'm the prefect, and I said... no one is allowed to touch me!"

While the Gryffindor players were busy protecting Harry, Flint, with his Quaffle, hit the woodwork five times in a row, earning fifty points, but... this time, there was little cheering from the Slytherin.

One group of people held up binoculars and stared in horror at the black dot above, while another group drew their wands and stood facing each other.

“I don’t care who you are. If you insist, I can ask the professor to stop the match later.” Nietzsche instinctively reached behind him, but unfortunately, his weapon had already been given to Hermione.

Nietzsche, with the tips of his shoes on his head, looked up and gazed.

His demeanor was different from before. Perhaps it was because he had been stained with the blood of trolls, which made both Malfoy and Paul feel his ferocity—as if he would really start causing bloodshed regardless of the occasion.

"These are the competition rules. You have no evidence that his broom was cursed; the broom going out of control is the operator's own fault..."

Draco tried his best to maintain his courage.

"Potter just can't control his broom, humph~"

Yes, brooms going out of control seems to happen often in matches! That's luck! It just goes to show that the Slytherin Championship is a must!

"Harry was uncontrollable during the match. If he were a rookie like that, he would have been exposed during training long ago!"

Nietzsche's words solidified the minds of the previously hesitant Slytherins, which made Draco even more gloomy. He had originally wanted to reassure everyone, but found that no one thought his words of comfort made sense.

Many Slytherins began to admire Harry, who was able to hold onto a broom that suddenly went out of control and continue the game.

At that moment, Hermione pushed through the crowd and ran over, a pair of binoculars in her hand.

“Only dark magic can affect flying brooms, someone wants to harm him!” Hermione’s breath turned into puffs of white smoke. “I read in a book that to use such a curse, one must constantly communicate with the eyes and the advice.”

Nietzsche glanced around; apart from the Slytherins around him, everyone else was watching the game.

He scanned every corner, every deep breath and shout of the wizards... his gaze swept around the entire Quidditch pitch, taking in every subtle change.

"What should we do?!" Hermione desperately wanted to find a solution.

“Perhaps someone is pretending, but subconscious thoughts cannot be changed.” Nietzsche pulled a pistol from her bag and released the safety. “Keep an eye on other people’s gazes for me.”

The bigger the commotion, the better, as if Slytherin had split up and were now fighting each other.

Upon seeing Nietzsche pull the object from Hermione's bag, some Muggle wizards behind Warrington immediately took two steps back. This action made the pro-pure-blood wizards burst into laughter, as they thought the other side had backed down.

"I'd be happier if Potter broke his brain! Whatever tricks you want to pull, go for it..."

"boom!"

The sudden explosion startled Lucien, and the sound echoed across the empty Quidditch pitch.

Many eyes turned to them, and Nietzsche immediately returned Colt to Hermione, then drew his wand and, before Lucien could recover from the gunshot, unleashed a spell from the tip of his wand.

"Relashio!"

Before the poor prefect could even recover, Lucien Ball's legs buckled, and he fell from the highest platform, tumbling all the way down to the bottom.

In fact, Nietzsche remembered everything Nietzsche had done to him before the start of the semester.

"Go! Catch him!"

"Go check on the prefect..."

"I'm fine. Grab him! I'll teach him a lesson about respect! All of you, get him!!"

Dozens of people climbed up from below, stepping on the seats, but Nietzsche wasn't going to be a fool and try to be a hero, so he ran along the edge of the field. This scene was much more entertaining than Marcus Flint scoring a dead ball.

Nietzsche ripped off his tie as he ran toward the crowd, the curses behind him making him run for cover, but in doing so, he also accidentally injured others.

"Excuse me, just letting me pass..." he lashed back quickly, shouting, "They did it! Those are Slytherin fifth and sixth year students! They think Harry Potter deserved it!"

One of the little badgers stood up angrily.

"Chief Gabriel Truman?"

"Slytherins again, brothers, do you really think we're easy to bully..." Hufflepuff prefect roared gruffly. "Let's teach them a lesson. They're too arrogant just because they won a match!"

Nietzsche pinched his nose and hid behind them, shouting, "That's right, too arrogant!"

From the moment the pure-blood Slytherin members accidentally injured the first Hufflepuff, the battlefield was no longer confined to the Slytherin stands...

First Hufflepuff, then Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.

The Gryffindors were just there for the fun of it; they didn't actually know what was going on until a knockback spell from the opposite audience knocked a lion's red hat off.

"Porter will win! He will win!!"

"Simir, use your Explosion Charm to blow them up!"

"That was a Transfiguration Charm, not an Explosion Charm."

"Who cast the disarming spell? Who cast the tickling spell... Haha... Disarming spell, tickling spell..."

Nietzsche, meanwhile, secretly slipped past the fallen wizards, got up, and looked at the chaotic scene of spells flying everywhere. He smiled and dusted off his robe, as if it had nothing to do with him.

It seems the wizards are no different from those football hooligans.

The only places that escaped the disaster were the teachers' seats and the commentary room. After ducking to avoid a red curse that splashed in through a crack in the window, Lee Jordan immediately hugged his knees and squatted under the table.

He looked at Professor McGonagall and said, "This...this has nothing to do with me. I didn't say anything provocative; I was just focusing on my explanation..."

Chapter 45 Hermione, disheveled in the wind

"Who...who threw a shoe at my face?!"

"Let me tell you, even if we win today, it doesn't guarantee we'll get past Ravenclaw..."

"What do you mean by that? You're saying Ravenclaws can easily beat Hufflepuffs? Guys, let's beat them up!"

"..."

The entire stands were in complete chaos, but even so, they wouldn't throw people onto the field.

After ducking to avoid a blue spell, Hermione felt herself at the very edge of the Quidditch pitch. With her back against the wall, she dodged the oncoming spells while simultaneously raising her binoculars to observe:

Is someone still watching above? Has Harry Potter regained control?

"You, take advantage of the chaos and teach her a lesson!" Draco couldn't see Nietzsche, so the evil thought arose in his mind.

Goyle, who had just rushed out of the crowd, was about to pounce on Hermione when he was struck by the blue spell mid-air and immediately passed out, snoring like a dead pig with his face down.

"Get away from me, you bastard!" Hermione kicked him away.

It's unclear whether he was cursing Goethe, who wanted to attack him, or Nietzsche, who caused the trouble.

Where is he? Who is that person? Learn from his way of thinking, Granger. You've spent so much time with Nietzsche, you must be able to understand the meaning... What would you do if, while you were concentrating, someone suddenly started fighting next to you?

If it were a wizard, they would definitely get impatient, or simply stay away from the battlefield.

Hermione turned the camera away from the corner of the audience. First of all, ordinary students couldn't use dark magic to interfere with the flying brooms produced by Nimbus Corporation—that was the absolute difference.

“Okay, all the students are involved... in that bastard’s mess.” Hermione muttered to herself through gritted teeth.

Of course, she looked around every corner of the court, and after confirming that there were no suspicious figures, she immediately looked toward the high platform of the teachers' bench.

A few people are missing from the upper level—Dean McGonagall and Professor Quirrell.

"Everyone, be quiet!"

No, Professor McGonagall was constantly monitoring Jordan in the lecture room, and she could clearly see the dean's angry and anxious face pacing back and forth at the window.

As Snape drank water, he drew his wand and blocked the spell that was veering toward him.

But Quirrell was the first to reach the center of the crowd. While Professor McGonagall was still hurrying down the stairs, the stammering Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had already stopped a small group of people.

Quirrell raised his hands and waved them down as if a conductor were giving the order to begin a performance, and the students around him instantly felt a pressure on their shoulders.

Centered on the professor, a group of people within a radius of about five seats were all crookedly pressed onto the steps, making it difficult even to raise their hands. Their sudden collapse caused the others to stop.

"I...I said...watch the game quietly!!" He seemed very pleased with his achievement, pressing his wand to his throat and shouting happily.

"What happened?" Professor McGonagall arrived slowly, angrily firing several sparks into the sky, and roared, "Unprecedented...incomprehensible...look at yourselves, you're nothing but street thugs!"

He then ran over to Quirrell to express his gratitude.

“Quirinus, your spells have improved again, huh?” Dean Flitwick stood on his chair and saw the students who had been pushed back into their chairs.

"It's...it didn't work, just some new...new attempts..."

But his face changed the next second. He gasped for breath, clutching his chest, and fell straight backward. Fortunately, Professor McGonagall was standing next to him and quickly reached out to catch him around the waist.

"You are hurt?"

"No, the magic is being used up too quickly," Quirrell stammered. "It's just a new spell."

"Deduct ten points from each college... no, twenty points! Fifty points! Everyone, get back to your seats!" Professor McGonagall looked up at the dark shadows constantly flashing across the sky, then immediately said to Mrs. Hodge, "Ignore them, the competition continues."