Hermione, let's start the revolution at Hogwarts

But since it's for research, and the other party is a professor, there's no harm in saying it.

"But there are some things you can't choose..."

"No! Even if you are in a desperate situation, there is always a choice."

Looking at the descriptions of wandology, dragon heartstrings, phoenix feathers, and yew wood are all suitable for white or black magic, and the powerful effects almost all come from the material of the wand.

But a material as calm and stable as unicorn hair is considered incapable of achieving anything great?

Quirrell was stunned for a moment, and touched the wand that had turned from a feather pen with his right hand. He smiled bitterly, then straightened his turban and became serious, in contrast to his timid appearance in class.

This kind of seriousness made the young Quirrell look a bit like a professor.

"No wonder... No wonder Dean Flitwick asked you to come to me. Wizards who love to learn can always find endless knowledge to learn..."

"If you want to slightly change the state of the levitation spell, in addition to your determination to release the spell, it is your emotions - in other words... your determination to maintain the effect."

"Do you know how wizards get into... into locked rooms on Muggles?"

Nietzsche thought back to the table of contents of The Standard Book of Spells: Elementary.

"Unlocking spell."

"That's right!" Quirrell was getting excited. "But what if it was a wizard who locked it?"

"Anti-unlocking charm?"

"Wrong, it's the advanced spell of alahomora (Alahomora Opening) - Bombarda!"

Quirrell raised his wand and pointed it at the side door of the office. With a loud bang, the bolt on the door was blown off along with the stone wall. The rubble returned to its original path before it could even fall to the ground. Under the silent repair spell, it became intact again.

Not only the unlocking spell, but also the lighting spell has corresponding strengthening spells.

These enhanced versions of standard spells are no less than black magic, as they cannot cause direct harm to people, but at least they can give Nietzsche a research direction.

He seemed very satisfied with his demonstration, so he stammered, "Not only can we make the bolt open automatically and the mechanism operate automatically, we can also destroy it directly. The explosion is the 'effect' of unlocking the door."

Combining theory with practice is perfect teaching.

Nietzsche suddenly realized that Quirinus Quirrell, who was not very popular among his classmates, was not the fake one who only talked but did nothing as he seemed.

As for why not use the crushing spell.

This is because some evil curses and poison spells cannot cause substantial damage to buildings. They are more likely to harm the fragile bodies of wizards rather than the hard granite.

"I see..."

The levitation spell lifts the target up, and the magic power imposes a 'floating' state on the object, and he can complete the advancement in the process of lifting it up.

For example...how to lift it?

It was like he could lift a piece of paper gently with his hands, crumple it into a ball and hold it in his palm, or tear it into pieces and throw it into the sky... As long as the target remained in the 'floating' state, it was enough.

Quirrell looked at the time, rolled his eyes, and began to order them to leave.

He smiled faintly and said, "Well, it's been over an hour. If you're any later, Filch will catch you as a Gryffindor wandering around at night and deduct points from you."

Nietzsche quickly stood up and looked at the other person sincerely.

"Thank you Professor!"

Feeling the student's sincerity, Quirrell smiled. He watched Nietzsche turn around and move further and further away from him...

"Nietzsche!"

"Hmm?" Nietzsche was a little surprised and stopped holding the door handle. "Anything else?"

"Being smart is not enough, you must be motivated. Intelligence is not a privilege, but a gift... I am looking forward to the results of your future experiments. Good night~"

"Goodnight Professor."

When the footsteps outside the door became quieter, Quirrell sat up straight and then collapsed into the chair. Trembling, he clutched the edge of his headscarf, while his other hand pressed against his chest.

He lowered his head and seemed to be talking to himself, but there was always another echoing voice in the office responding.

"Master, according to your instructions, he will definitely discover the mysteries of black magic..."

"More than that, assist him more during unscheduled time." The invisible man ordered, "I can feel that his talent is not inferior to Severus. I can see a new dark magic... You... are doing very well."

Quirrell didn't have any other thoughts because of the weak voice.

He looked in the mirror and said tremblingly: "Master..."

"Yes, yes. As long as the plan succeeds, you will gain far more power than this. Let's see what this mudblood can do for now."

Hearing the other party's perfunctory praise, Qi Luo was still very happy.

But he was not excited by the benefits mentioned by the owner of the voice, but because he could clearly see the magic system based on standard spells, a brand new magic that started from the wand.

What a strange idea to make the levitation spell a killing weapon.

"Use...dark magic...to lure...only power is...immortal"

Volume 1: Chapter 24 The Mudblood Effect

Early in the morning, Nietzsche saw several people fighting in the lounge, with phrases like "My father is higher up in the Ministry of Magic than yours" and "My bloodline is thicker than yours" filling the air.

Yes, this is very Slytherin.

There is a kind of English drunkard beauty.

The attacker was a senior with short hair, tall and muscular. With a wave of his wand, he pressed the other Slytherin against the window.

The fish passing by outside the window looked curiously at the wizard who was clinging to the window.

"Warrington, if you want to be a chaser, wait until I graduate." Marcus looked at Nietzsche's departing back, threw him back to the ground with disdain, and stepped on him, "I am the Quidditch captain!"

No one else dared to step forward to help Warrington up.

All he could do was watch him use the Cutting Spell to break the broom in the other person's hand into two pieces.

Only after the tall and rude Marcus left did some wizards come forward and pull up Warrington. They were all half-blood wizards from Slytherin, but reasoning simply didn't work here.

Bloodline determines personal relationships and power relations.

"Forget it. By the time you finish the OWL exam, Marcus will have graduated..."

But Warrington knelt on the ground, holding the broken pieces of the broom in silence.

Draco Malfoy from the next dormitory was also watching. He was watching with great interest how the Slytherins resolved their conflicts privately. At the same time, he also noticed Nietzsche who had just woken up.

"You see, he thinks Marcus isn't suitable for being a Chaser. There are always half-bloods who can't put themselves in the right place."

Perhaps, as Daphne said, Draco had learned something new from the Slytherin Headmaster, so he was sure he could turn the situation around.

His confidence seemed to be returning.

"You really love to learn. I can have a real wizard duel with you anytime, one on one... Put away your stick!"

He watched as Nitsky tapped the floor with his cane, causing Goyle and Crabbe to take two steps back.

"My Lord!" Nietzsche stretched and yawned in the green sunlight that shone through the Black Lake. "But I need to go to the dean now. Don't you know that he is giving me private lessons?"

Draco's face immediately fell and he clenched his fists.

That's it. He hated Nietzsche's behavior. As a Muggle wizard, he came to Slytherin, but in turn looked down on them, the pure Slytherins, and treated them as a joke.

"I hope someone in Slytherin is willing to be your assistant, otherwise you'll be in for a one-on-two fight... You'll have to pay the price for your previous behavior."

Daphne poked her head from behind Pansy, mockingly.

At first Nietzsche thought that Gryffindor was the most troublesome house. After all, the points deducted there were enough to upset Hermione. But that was not the case. Perhaps every house was violating school rules in its own way.

For example, Slytherin, they always solve the problem privately in their own way.

"Maybe he, a Muggle wizard, has never heard of wizard duels." Her ridicule definitely contained personal emotions.

"Haha... you are worthy of being a Mudblood, assistant! I allow you to pick one here, provided they are willing... Hey! Who among you is willing to assist Nietzsche in a wizard duel?"

The fight next door was already over, and Malfoy's voice was so arrogant that the Slytherins, who had not seen enough of the duel, shifted their attention over here, and after hearing what Malfoy said, they all laughed out loud.

Who would help a Gryffindor who was in Slytherin?

Blaise shouted: "Why not go to Gryffindor? I think a fool like Weasley would be happy to be his assistant..."

So they laughed even louder.

"You sent Goyle and Crabbe to the school infirmary at the beginning of the semester, so I will only give you two days, Nietzsche, you must accept it, unless you are a coward! After two days, I will be waiting for you here!"

Sunday and Monday, just two days.

Even if Nietzsche was really a genius, how could he learn some powerful magic before Tuesday? You know, Malfoy had practiced hard for a week just to get revenge.

Could we count on that stuttering Professor Quirrell?

Or maybe invent a spell on the spot?

Ha! Unless Nietzsche is Merlin reincarnated!!

No matter what, the advantage is on Draco Malfoy!

Nietzsche noticed Daphne hiding behind Pansy and nodded slightly, so he thought for a moment and said calmly: "If it's just a duel, it's too boring, how about some chips?"

Um... sorry, Hermione, this wasn't a fight he wanted.

Besides, he had bought too many things recently and was short of money, so Nietzsche planned to follow Sherlock's example of earning extra money in the underground boxing ring.

"What do you want to bet?" Malfoy was overjoyed. "One Galleon? Ten Galleons?"

"Since you don't have the guts to place a bet, you can't blame me. If you want to blame someone, you can only blame your own incompetence."

Nietzsche looked at Warrington and wondered what he was thinking.

He suddenly had a brilliant plan in his mind. If he wanted to shut up this group of arrogant pure-bloods, he couldn't do it alone. If each of them opened their mouths, they would be enough to annoy him to death.

"One bet per person." Nietzsche pointed at the crowd behind him and said impatiently, "You idiots, if you lose, don't discuss bloodline in front of me!"

Wizards with pure-blood backgrounds such as Zabini and Parkinson were so angry that their eyes widened.

However, some half-blood wizards who had just gotten up from the ground were stunned and looked at him in disbelief...

In Nietzsche's observation, Slytherin is not a rope, and the contradiction between half-blood and pure-blood can never be reconciled. The former can only tend to the latter in the general environment.

To put it in cynic's terms: Even if we knew, so what? Do we have a choice?

"If I win, you will break off your ties with Gryffindor and join me..." Draco didn't think he would lose, and he firmly believed that he would become a qualified heir to the family.

"make a deal!"

But no one cares what half-bloods and Muggle wizards think.

Or in other words...what big waves can this group of people make?

By the time Nietzsche walked through the corridor outside the dungeon and arrived at the Potions classroom, it was already ten o'clock. There were no students outside the door because no one would be willing to come to the bat cave on weekends.

Of course, Nietzsche was unwilling to do so; he was forced to do so.

"You are ten minutes late for the agreed time. Under normal circumstances, I would deduct ten points."

Snape's voice came from the corner of the classroom. Looking in the direction of the voice, one could see Snape in the shadows rummaging through something in the cabinet where the raw materials for potions were stored.

"That's because your dear student, Draco Malfoy, wanted to challenge me to a duel early in the morning. Apparently, they look down on Mudbloods..."

"Shut up!" Snape turned his head sharply and shouted, "Don't say that in front of me, and don't say it again!"

But he found that although Nietzsche said it deliberately, he did not seem to know the actual meaning of 'mudblood', because his flat tone was like he was talking about how many pieces of bread he had eaten in the morning.

"Sorry, I thought Slytherin allowed students to use blood attacks."

"Bloodline?" Snape strode up to him and put his hand on his shoulder. "This is a pure insult, like... a dirty bastard..."

Nietzsche was a little surprised.

You know, as the head of Slytherin, Snape was the kind of indifferent person who didn't care about anything that had nothing to do with him in his impression, but now he was actually angry because of an offensive word.

This contrast is like a mute who has been silent for more than ten years suddenly speaking.

"Then you should tell your precious student to shut up instead of getting angry at me. It won't change anything, respected Dean Snape." Nietzsche walked past him and went straight to the desk.

Snape knew very well that Malfoy could indeed tell it.

Or, he subconsciously made an excuse for himself: "This is a trivial matter between you two. As the dean..."

"Hermione always says I'm good at making excuses. It seems I have a companion now." Nietzsche shrugged, "Don't worry, if you want, I can make the Slytherin atmosphere better."

Finally, Snape's expression changed and became as cold as before.