Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Finally, she saw Nietzsche Holmes in a seat right next to the library window.

“Tear that thing down, nobody here will notice you,” Nietzsche said lazily as he wrote his paper, “The Widespread Application of Standard Spells.”

“Even if there’s only a very small chance, I can’t afford to gamble.” Daphne lowered her voice and sat down in the chair opposite him.

"So what made you take such a risk to come here? It couldn't have been just for chatting, could it?"

Daphne recounted everything about the Charms class without holding anything back, and Nietzsche believed she couldn't possibly keep anything from her.

“Hmm…it seems you’ve chosen to bet on both sides, which is cheating.” Nietzsche stopped writing with his quill and finally looked up to face the other man directly. “You’re reminding Malfoy over there, and now you want to take credit from me.”

"Don't be silly, you're a smart person. I'm helping you solve problems in advance and reduce risks."

Daphne corrected him.

In fact, according to her logic, she was helping Nietzsche get rid of Draco, this persistent venomous snake, as soon as possible. The longer it dragged on, the more detrimental it would be to the 'dragon incident'.

The future represents uncertainty, and plans will only change due to various uncertainties.

This first-year Muggle wizard in front of me changed other people's impressions of Slytherin by starting all alone and through various events, and even won over Warrington and struck out Marcus.

Sometimes, she couldn't tell whether Nietzsche deliberately created those events or simply went with the flow.

"Aren't you worried I might sow discord?" Nietzsche tucked a sheet of parchment filled with his papers into the book, his fingers interlaced on the cover. "I only need to subtly hint to Draco..."

“You wouldn’t.” Daphne had never thought of it that way. “You’re not that kind of person.”

Although Daphne still adhered to certain rules, she couldn't help but begin to have some doubts about the changes in Slytherin.

"Alright, thank you for your suggestion. I'll keep an eye on Lucien and Gollum." Nietzsche seemed to be in a good mood. Even Daphne, who was of noble birth, couldn't find any fault with his interpersonal skills.

Gurgle?

Daphne did not understand the nickname he gave Malfoy.

As soon as she left, Nietzsche immediately pulled out a book about spells from the bookshelf and found the tracking and countermeasures commonly used by wizards.

Wizards often use the Disappearance Charm to ensure their location remains hidden; a master of this spell can achieve a level of invisibility... Remember: this doesn't make you disappear.

When get out of class ended the next day, Nietzsche casually took his equipment from the Potions classroom.

"Bane!" he shouted at the gruff centaur as he stuffed firewood under the crucible.

"what's up?"

"If there are any winged demons in the Forbidden Forest, could you bring me a few?" Nietzsche glanced at his watch, wondering how long it would be before Hermione arrived.

“Centaurs are not your subordinates, little foal…” Bane stomped on a blue stone with his hoof, annoyed. “Ronan allows you to come and go freely, isn’t that enough to satisfy your greedy hearts?!”

Nietzsche did not back down because of the other party's temper; he simply took a small step back and showed his empty hands.

“I’ve heard about what happened in the Forbidden Forest recently. If you’re willing to get some winged maggot venom, I can make enough potions of oblivion.” He silently thanked Professor Snape for his potions skills.

Now it was Bain's turn to be confused.

He had heard of some of the wizards' strange and wonderful potions, but what did that have to do with patrolling?

"The venom of the Winged Demon has a forgetting effect. You can infuse the potion into the skin of the intruders... This way, if you encounter poaching wizards, you can better drive them away."

“We can choose to kill anyone who illegally enters centaur territory; our ladders can crush their spines,” Bain said.

Are poachers Batman?

“Yes, that’s right, but what if they go through the Ministry of Magic’s legal procedures?” Nietzsche explained.

Among this patrol group, there were at least some centaurs who knew the pros and cons, so Margaret stepped forward and pulled the confused Bain aside. He suddenly felt that they should consider how to deal with the wizard who was disrupting the balance of nature.

Killing is definitely not an option.

“This little pony makes a good point. Bane… if someone dies, those guys at the Ministry of Magic will choose to expel him, and…” Margaret’s hooves trotted out, “This is Hogwarts.”

They didn't want to involve the school principal either.

Therefore, Nietzsche's statement is not without merit; they need a proper way to drive away poachers.

“No! That poacher… I’ve never seen anyone like him!” Bain roared angrily. “He kills the animals but doesn’t eat them, as if… as if it’s just for fun!”

He seemed determined to use ruthless methods to impose sanctions.

The problem is that the areas where centaurs live are planned by the Ministry of Magic, and they have to listen to those glib wizards.

“We are centaurs! Baine, we are not banshees or vampires, people who are defined as ‘human’ simply because they can talk,” Margaret urged. “We cannot let our tribe be scorned because of impulsiveness!”

Bain, with his fiery temper, glanced at Nietzsche, and his initially pounding chest finally deflated.

It walked over slowly, hesitated for a moment, and then asked in what it thought was the calmest tone about the dosage of the winged demon venom. It seemed that Bain would also listen to his companion's advice.

“Any place marked by the centaurs is safe, so I’ll go to the winged demon’s lair to catch some.” Bain wasn’t sure of the exact amount, and pulled out an empty water bottle hanging on his body, saying, “Will filling this up be enough?”

Nietzsche, on the other hand, was overjoyed... How much? The more the better, of course!

Judging from the centaur's horn-shaped wine jug, it must contain at least one pint, or about 400 milliliters.

"The amnesia potion you've made will last you ten years," Nietzsche said, extending his hand. "Furthermore, I recommend you use blowguns. So...please accept my offer?"

Bain saw Nietzsche's etiquette of equality and respect for the first time and was momentarily flustered. Looking at Nietzsche's muddy hands, it moved closer and lowered its head slightly.

When the two hands are clasped together, you can feel the difference in strength brought about by the muscles.

"Alright, alright..." Nietzsche quickly pulled his hand away and shook it off.

“Looks like you still need more practice, little pony. It seems wizards aren’t omnipotent after all.” Bane proudly tossed his long hair and grinned. “What did you say again… Oh, right, it’s been a pleasure working with you.”

Several sharp sounds came from my feet. Looking down, I saw Smaug sharpening his claws with his cane.

By this time, the Norwegian Spinosaurus was almost up to his knees, and it could snap a branch as thick as a wrist with the power of its tail alone. In Smaug, where there were no competitors, it grew faster than a normal fire dragon.

"Light it!" Nietzsche waved his wand.

It opened its mouth and spat a ball of fire at Nietzsche, who immediately controlled it with a fire spell.

This was their way of playing around, and Smaug didn't have to worry about his flames burning down the centaurs' tents, so he liked Nietzsche even more... It was nice to have someone to fool around with.

"It's so good to have you. I can skip the process of summoning flames altogether." Nietzsche divided the flames into several parts and sent them flying into the campfire in the centaur tribe.

Smaug didn't understand, but seeing Nietzsche smiling and playing with him, it started barking too.

Everything is ready now; all we have to do is wait for certain people to come to us.

Trespassing into the centaurs' territory was not a good idea, but the kind-hearted Nietzsche would only make Malfoy forget the nightmarish events that had occurred in the Forbidden Forest.

Let's just pretend nothing happened?

Chapter Sixty-Five: Inviting the Enemy into the Trap

(PS: Although there will only be one update these days, don't worry, each one will be around 5,000 words.)

Hermione arrived just in time to witness the secret exchange between Bane and Nietzsche.

She had initially assumed the horn-shaped bottle contained wine brewed by the centaurs themselves, but when the lid was lifted, the thick, dark liquid inside pulled Hermione's thoughts back to Potions class.

That's clearly the venom of a Winged Demon...

"Could you come and lend a hand?" Nietzsche sat on a wooden stump and snapped his fingers at the crucible.

It's the 'Fire Dragon Spell'!

Smaug leaped forward and spat a ball of scorching dragonfire at the match beneath the cauldron. Afterward, he smugly wagged his tail and flicked it back and forth at Nietzsche.

"So you're finally willing to practice your clumsy potions?" Hermione sat down next to him.

To make those crucibles and glasses more precise, Nietzsche manually drew markings on them.

“Yes, I can finally understand the old bat’s admiration for potions.” Nietzsche dripped two drops of diluted winged demon venom into a cauldron filled with lake water. “Leaves no trace...more convenient...hmph.”

“We caught some food from Black Lake,” Neville said, walking over with a string of freshwater fish.

He carefully crouched down, placed the items on the ground, and then used a branch to gently push the fish toward Smaug's mouth, as Neville didn't want to be bitten by the dragon.

But this is only a small treat for Smaug, whose appetite is now about the same as Hagrid's.

However, it doesn't need to worry here. At least until it can go out to hunt animals on its own, the centaurs always bring Smaug a whole deer or dozens of rabbits after each patrol.

“It definitely doesn’t want to leave the Forbidden Forest anymore…” Ron said cheerfully.

Here, it has food and water, and a bunch of strong horsemen to take care of it, making it much more comfortable than the so-called Fire Dragon Reserve.

Just then, a female centaur with brown hair and a grass crown came over carrying a large box of valerian, lavender, and sleep beans. These potion ingredients were readily available in the Forbidden Forest.

“These are… the raw materials for the Living Hell Potion. You plan to use sleeping pills and amnesia potions together.” Hermione suddenly realized something was wrong.

This is a NEWT-rated, potent sleeping pill.

“It can make people sleep like a dead pig.” Nietzsche picked up a needle and drew some of the prepared potion. “But the two potions cannot be mixed, so my current problem is not potion making.”

"You mean... to separate the two potions so they can be injected sequentially?" Hermione pondered for a moment.

“That’s right, I want to add a section of vacuum band inside, but the syringe is too thin, so... only Transfiguration can meet my requirements.”

If it were someone else, Hermione might have agreed.

She didn't immediately take the syringe with the feathers attached. Instead, she crossed her arms, stood upright, and questioned him warily.

“A reason,” Hermione said calmly.

“The centaurs want to protect their territory, but my method is more humane…” Nietzsche turned to the mare who had just been carrying the goods, with a polite smile, “I hope you will like this approach.”

Even the female centaurs, after years of running and working in the Forbidden Forest, have developed V-lines on their slender, bare waists.

Sweat and dew slid down the muscle lines from below the chest to the hairline, and the leaves were perhaps some kind of herb, for they had a faint, pleasant fragrance.

“Sometimes we are really annoyed by uninvited wizards, so... the centaur will remember your help.” The centaur’s clear voice reached Hermione’s ears.

It certainly sounds like they're doing a good deed.

But Hermione knew that Nietzsche was probably trying to use this opportunity to achieve some other purpose.

“You see… this isn’t what I wanted to do, Hermione, you’re helping someone…” Nietzsche’s voice was like a succubus from the Bible, slowly pulling Hermione’s mind into the abyss.

Finally, she muttered helplessly, "Alright! I know, but you're not allowed to hide it on your person!"

"Don't bring such a dangerous thing on your person." That was Hermione's best act of stubbornness.