Hermione, let's start the revolution at Hogwarts

Snape narrowed his eyes, and it seemed to Harry that he also didn't like this bet.

So Harry couldn't help but yelled, "If Professor McGonagall hadn't come, he would have ended up like you! You've already lost, why can't you lose like a man?"

This is a difficult problem, and no one knows who will win or lose in the end. But in the current stalemate, Snape stood up.

He paced slowly in the ward with his head lowered, and finally stopped in front of Marcus Flint. His eyes were dull and his voice was very soft, but his pronunciation was clear.

"Mr. Flint, what was your condition before Dean McGonagall came... Don't try to lie to me..."

"I finally...finally ran out of magic because I cast too many spells, but Nietzsche can never win!!"

"Did he run out of magic power in the end?"

"No...Yes!" Marcus raised his head and looked at the professor. He felt as if he had fallen into an icy lake. He didn't dare to lie. "But he is almost dying, so the winners should be me and Malfoy."

All the young wizards held their breath, waiting for Snape's verdict.

Harry thought: If Snape could be fair for once, not only would he give all the snacks to everyone in the Gryffindor common room, but he would also never join others in scolding Snape in the future.

"Hmm... makes sense." Snape nodded, but he wasn't done yet, "So you think a wizard can't beat an unarmed Muggle, right?"

What is the problem?

Marcus scratched his head. With his large build and blank expression, he looked like the dazed woodland troll in the illustrations in the book.

"Professor, how can a Muggle defeat a wizard..."

"Yes, that's right. So what's the difference between you and a Muggle after you lose your magic?"

His face turned red due to Snape's sarcasm, but he still stammered to fight for this last chance of victory.

"But he has already... I'm the Quidditch captain, and he's so small that I can knock him down with just one punch! Professor, this is not fair!!"

"Idiot." He shouted at Marcus, "He didn't need the Resuscitation Charm to survive until now, so why would he need a few more punches from you? Since you want to duel, show some duel manners! You're a coward who can't even admit defeat!"

Malfoy immediately lowered his head. Now he could only pray that the Dean's anger would not fall on him.

"Draco..."

Hearing the drawl, he flinched as Harry and Ron snickered.

"professor?"

"If you can't even face failure, how can you talk about ambition and ideals? Since this is a duel, you need to be prepared to lose in advance... Minerva, the rest is up to you."

When Snape looked at Nietzsche with his cold eyes, some inexplicable nostalgia was revealed. This kind of look is usually only seen by middle-aged and elderly people when reading memoirs.

Then he left, and walked very quickly and lightly.

Minerva McGonagall was also a little puzzled. Could it be that Snape's potion experiment had just been successful?

In fact, Nietzsche was not too sure about the last moment, as he could not move at all, so Snape's final judgment was beyond the expectations of Harry, Malfoy and Nietzsche.

Just as Snape said, the thoughtful Hermione naturally prepared a retreat...but it was even better than losing.

"Potter, Weasley, since you are just bystanders, I will go easy on you. Now go back and rest, and don't disturb them! And you...all of you go back!"

Before leaving, Professor McGonagall glanced at Nietzsche, who was having a pleasant conversation with Hermione, with shining eyes.

The terrible injuries on his body could not calm his enthusiasm for the bet, until Madam Pomfrey could no longer bear it and lowered the light blue curtains to isolate the beds of several people.

Perhaps it was the effect of the potion. After a while, Nietzsche's arm, which felt like it had been stung by a bee, gradually felt numb as if an electric current had passed through it.

He lay on the bed, his excitement replaced by sleepiness, and under the moonlight, he gradually fell into a dream.

For Nietzsche, dreams are a new adventure.

When Nietzsche woke up again, his bed was piled with various snacks, each with a card containing either blessings or names.

At first Nietzsche had no idea who these people were, but then he smiled knowingly when he saw 'C. Warrington' pasted on a crucible-shaped cupcake.

"What should I do..."

After getting up, Hermione has been flipping through the textbooks for Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

She had planned to go to class this morning, but was stopped by Madam Pomfrey. Even though Hermione's wound had healed, she was still asked to stay here for a day for observation and was forced to rest.

Nietzsche waved his wand lazily, pulling away the wand that stood between them.

"Can't you just be quiet? Look at the sunshine. This is a rare forced rest time."

"Because of you, I missed Transfiguration and Charms!" Hermione looked at the cupcake on Nietzsche's belly and was furious. "Who knows what kind of knowledge I will miss..."

At the same time, I also sighed: When did he become so popular?

Hermione got up the earliest, so she could see people coming one after another to stay beside Nietzsche's bed, but they didn't stay long. It seemed that they would just put their things down and leave, and each time, the number of people would never exceed three.

Those Slytherins were very low-key.

Of course, Hermione also had some consolation gifts, but apart from her roommates, they were only some wizards who had received tutoring during their regular lessons, which was nothing compared to the snacks piled up next to Nietzsche.

"I'm afraid only the 'savior' Harry Potter can compare with you..."

"Really? How could they not give it to you?" Nietzsche said, pretending to be angry as he handed out some liquorice sticks and honey candies. "You know how hard it is to get Miss Conformist to make an exception. How ignorant."

"Does strength... really matter in Slytherin?"

Hermione threw a honey candy into the water glass, and watched the clear water gradually turn light yellow. She only felt a toothache in her heart.

The honey water has a moderate sweetness, and it is hard to imagine how sweet it would be if she just ate it with her mouth.

"It's because of our victory... Hermione, we shook the tradition of Slytherin." Nietzsche said brilliantly, "Just imagine what they would think when they saw that Malfoy couldn't say those things in front of me."

These people, led by Warrington, will launch a crazy counterattack.

Even if they cannot replicate this victory, they will not give up, because hope lies here, and a history of "success" will always remain in their memory.

Nietzsche is hope itself.

Besides, Warrington had a grudge against Marcus.

"After seeing the truth, how could Slytherin be willing to do this?"

"Hermione, breaking down the barriers between the academies has already begun!" Nietzsche carefully held up the cards and exclaimed, "This is what life should be like... not suppressed and bound."

Pureblood means more than just purity of bloodline.

In the isolated social environment of the magic world, after thousands of years of development, it means that most of the resources, connections and abilities of the magic world are a reflection of the inner desire for power.

In other words...some people don't hate purebloods, but hate themselves for not being purebloods.

This is why Nietzsche had to take up the challenge.

He must trample on the authority exerted by the pure-bloods. If there must be any kind of power, it is only the will to power deep in his heart.

"But even if you can represent all of Slytherin one day, what about Gryffindor? What about the other houses?"

Rather than expecting Hermione to be shaken, it would be more accurate to say that Nietzsche simply pulled out all of her inner thoughts.

The four colleges became a true whole, and that was what Hermione longed for. She was fed up with Gryffindor's self-righteousness and meaningless individual heroism, and Nietzsche also hated the bloodline trick.

"You are still here~" Nietzsche praised like a bard, "In Gryffindor under the management of Ms. Hermione Granger, there is only one kind of true heroism, and that is..."

Hermione pursed her lips tightly, holding the glass with both hands, and the two of them sat in the warm blue and white boat, and the poems were passed back and forth between them without a pause.

I only heard her whisper: "That means after seeing the truth of life, you still love life, Romain Rolland."

Nietzsche always inadvertently removes Hermione's conservatism and hesitation.

Little did he know that after Hermione saw with her own eyes that the wizarding world was not as rosy as she thought, she would change faster than he had imagined.

It was like seeing Merlin in person. Hermione was fascinated by the feeling of being known by others. She had never thought that she had a friend who could understand her so well. In this situation, she felt so romantic in her heart.

If you forget there's a Draco Malfoy in the infirmary...

"I..I don't think I disturbed you two."

The bed curtains were drawn aside, and Professor Quirrell, wearing a reddish-brown turban, poked his head in.

"Professor... Quirrell!" Hermione immediately turned around and hurriedly looked away from Nietzsche.

"Please don't...don't imitate me...speak like me, Miss Granger." Professor Quirrell looked a little displeased. "I thought you...you didn't have a bad taste like other students."

Hermione always controlled herself in front of professors, so she immediately said nervously, "Sorry."

But Chilo's expression suddenly changed, and he sat down casually beside Nietzsche's bed and laughed with him.

"Just kidding. Miss Granger never stuttered when answering questions in class." The professor waved his hand and took out a notebook from his pocket. "I just came to ask about some details of last night."

The 'Floating Spell' that came out of Nietzsche's mouth yesterday was too absurd, so Professor McGonagall mentioned it to Dean Flitwick in the morning when she complained about several students dueling privately.

When he heard Nietzsche's name, Flitwick immediately thought of the child with weird ideas.

Quirrell, who was enjoying fish porridge, heard the news of the duel and came over immediately after teaching Gryffindor.

"Don't worry, Miss Granger, this is just a little... little experiment between us."

"Experiments?" Hermione had never heard of them.

"Based on Nietzsche's fantastic idea, I think... the potential of standard spells is huge." Quirrell explained stumblingly while recording Nietzsche's dictation, "This is a brand new spell system!"

Just by listening to Nietzsche's imagination, you can see how he broke Malfoy's arms at that time.

This kind of power is not just about "lifting up and flying high", it is more like "strangling".

Imagine if Nietzsche broke Malfoy's neck instead of his arm?

Volume 1: Chapter 31: Quirrell's Second Life

Quirinus Quirrell had been cursing ever since he returned to his office from the infirmary.

"Hmph, trash!"

"Waste snack!"

Of course, it wasn't Professor Quirrell who was cursing; the sound came from inside his turban. The unfathomable master naturally knew the Malfoy family, and the cursing hadn't stopped since the door was closed.

And Quirrell was sitting on the chair with a smile on his face and a pale face.

"Thinking I was dead, he turned to the Ministry of Magic. What did that little piece of shit say?"

The little useless piece of shit, of course, refers to Draco Malfoy.

"School Director, Master," Quirrell said calmly.

"He didn't pay attention in class. He couldn't even defeat a mudblood in a duel with a third-year wizard who was held back. He was a damn traitor..." The voice changed the subject, as if thinking about something. "But, that mudblood is indeed quite capable."

Quirrell narrowed his eyes slightly, supported his head with his right hand, and slowly stroked his chin with his fingers.

Obviously, his master had noticed something, but Quirrell didn't intend to hide it because it was useless, so he just laid it out to see what his master thought.

"Do you think I should continue?"

"Why not?" After a few seconds of silence, he continued, "This is a good Slytherin. He can be used as a shield... It will be troublesome to find something under Dumbledore's nose."

"Then research..." Quirrell asked excitedly.

But his master laughed contemptuously and said, "It's not up to standard. It's just a derivative of the standard spell. Black magic can bring the dead back to life and give them eternal life... It's not as easy to kill someone with strangulation as with the killing curse."

The Killing Curse is one of the three unforgivable curses. This spell used to kill people seems very common when it comes from his master's mouth.

Hearing this mocking sound, Quirrell breathed a sigh of relief.

He just looked down on him, but didn't reject his research, which meant that Quirrell could start a second life in some sense, just like when he was a student... loving magic and studying magic.

Maybe, black magic is not the only shortcut...

"I see, the continuity of magic and thoughts is actually like this, no wonder..." Quirrell practiced the theory recorded in his notebook several times, "There is no need for too many destructive emotions, just a little influence."

After only a few failures, Quirrell used memory to draw out emotions and completed the experiment.

"Lift it up... lift it up with more force..."

The wooden chair in front of him, which was used for guests to sit on, floated in the air and was crushed into pieces bit by bit.

You know, in the whole process, control is an extremely difficult thing, and Quirrell feels that his wand perfectly complements this. He doesn't need to be distracted deliberately, he just needs to immerse himself in his thoughts.

"Maybe it's not enough. Maybe I can add something to it." Quirrell excitedly wrote down the idea that popped into his mind. "What if I let one of the parts of the target apply the status?"

This is so exciting.

It was like the first time he used black magic to take revenge on a classmate who laughed at him.

As long as there was no dark magic involved, the unicorn hair wouldn't have any effect at all and would be more of a help, and he had never been so grateful that his wand was so stable and not as powerful as Dragon Heartstring.

By the next day, Wednesday, the school clinic was packed at noon.