Miss Planeswalker, are you free for romance?

"Hmm?" She immersed herself in the ocean of books again.

"I mean…"

"Ok?"

"If you were asked to give up your current life, the familiar world in front of you, and your blood-thicker-than-water, inseparable relatives, and follow a stranger away..."

"?"

"What do you think?"

After a few seconds of pause, Hermione came back to her senses. "What's the premise?" She glanced at Harry, sighed, and closed the book with difficulty. There was a 'bang' sound.

I probably won’t be able to watch it today.

"premise?"

"Yes." Hermione spread her hands as a matter of course: "Many people use the excuse of asking others to get advice and deal with problems that make them hesitate - so what is the premise of your question? Is this something you are worried about, or are you just asking me?"

Harry smiled shyly: "Just asking you, Hermione." She shook her head: "This question is meaningless to me."

Ask me...

Isn't this a very strange question?

For the sake of a stranger, abandoning parents and family, giving up the familiar world in front of you, the life you have lived in for many years, and following it to a completely unfamiliar place - how crazy would that be?

ill?

Normal people would refuse...

…Bar?

unless…

unless…

Unspeakable emotions turned into tiny, intense desires flowing in her blood. The fanatical and desperate yearning was like the sound of a giant bell.

If it doesn't vibrate or make a sound, it loses its meaning of existence.

The seemingly crazy multiple-choice question about "a glass of water" or "a million pounds" depends on where the person is.

Like a traveler lost in the desert.

The premise of the question, the key is the premise - leave with...who...?

Hermione suddenly felt that everything around her was so far away from her. Beyond everything, there was a vague, laughing and noisy shadow standing at the end of the black hole, waving goodbye to her.

Her heart suddenly contracted, and the layers of fear were like crystal ice flakes under the scorching sun, disappearing little by little in her regret without looking back.

Harry gently pulled the huge book out from under Hermione's clenched, shaking fists.

"You should get some rest too, Hermione."

she says.

Chapter 158 Bloodline Paranoia

Minerva McGonagall.

The Gryffindor Headmaster who temporarily handles all matters of Hogwarts.

Now my old head is very painful.

She certainly didn't do anything to hurt her students during Dumbledore's absence - she let them hurt each other.

Since a few days ago, more and more people have been coming to the school hospital. One person broke another's finger, or someone almost poked another's eye out with a pen tip hidden between his fingers; the "fights" between the boys were not so bad, mostly contusions and bone injuries, one second they were bruised and swollen, the next second they were neatly rushing into the school hospital with their arms around each other.

It's a lot more troublesome for girls.

One girl sparred with her roommate and used a thin piece of paper to cut the other's trachea - if she hadn't responded quickly, not only would she have died, but she would have also been sent to Azkaban (Afterwards, Ansuna specially entertained these two brave female warriors, praising them and saying that they were very talented.)

Minerva had said countless times that private practice was strictly prohibited, and had specifically warned Mori Yuesa about this.

However, it's no use.

The children will be fine as usual, they will be quiet for a day or two at best due to the lingering fear...

——Children who grew up in the wizarding world have never been exposed to such a magical skill. They are fascinated by the method of knocking down the enemy within one or two feet without waving a wand...even crazy.

What Ansuna taught them was not just simple punching and dodging. It was a special fighting technique based on the human body.

Plus these little guys with magic flowing in their blood...

The only good news for Mag is that most students know the importance of playing sports, and those who are timid simply won't touch this kind of dangerous sports. But it's that small number of people, that small number, that are very troublesome.

Yes, up until now, Professor McGonagall still treats it as a sport.

Deeply held views.

Waving fists = stupidity, waving wands = elegance and intelligence.

Anyway, after the trachea incident, the furious professor ordered all students that if a similar harmful incident occurred again, they would not only be put in solitary confinement, but also suspended from class - Ansuna's Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

The chaos slowly subsided.

"I guess it was the trouble maker from Gryffindor who was causing the trouble. If it weren't for those two girls..."

Draconi's voice was neither loud nor soft, but it was deliberately directed in a certain direction.

Hermione paused with her knife.

The silver metal shuttled between the girl's fingertips like a nimble little fish, while her other hand held a fork and put the lettuce into her mouth.

Harry still wore the big hood that covered half of her face, and lowered her head to focus on the pie on the plate.

"Big Mouth Gryffindor, 'Hey! I found a secret!'" The voice continued, imitating the squeezed throat and gruff voice: "'I found a secret! It turns out that steaks are much more delicious when grilled than when eaten raw!'"

Several students laughed so hard that they fell over.

Wiping her mouth, Draconian raised the champagne glass elegantly, looking at the figure with his head down, and teased, "Yeah, yeah, he won't have diarrhea. Gryffindor people can always find the 'big secret'. It's really a lucky house, a group of lucky and brave 'smart people'."

Hermione put her fork down slowly and turned around.

"Elyse and Mattie are very talented, and Ansuna has praised them very much." This dinner, which was almost a midnight snack, was delicious, but the flies that popped out at the end were too annoying. She leaned against the table and crossed her legs. "It seems that there has never been such a person in Slytherin, right, Draconian."

The female academic bully's eyes were full of curiosity as she looked at the proud girl with a swan-like swan-like neck. "You seem to have never had this? Let me think... Doing things yourself is something that only inferior people can do? What a terrible theory. No wonder the ones who were beaten and screamed in class were all the good Slytherin kids."

"Noble purebloods. Don't you have lawns at home? You must feel it with your face—"

"You mudblood! Hermione Granger, don't take my patience for granted." Draconian said with a sullen face, and stood up from her chair. Her platinum ponytail swayed as she walked around the table and came to her.

"You shouldn't be here at all, you know? Hogwarts shouldn't send letters to lowly people like you with mixed blood."

The little lion crossed his arms calmly, without a trace of anger on his face.

"Really? What a pity that I received it? Why didn't your father, the school director you always mention, stop it? Why didn't he take out an expensive antique bow and shoot the owl that sent me the letter from the sky?"

At this point, Hermione made another surprised expression: "If there's no lawn, then is there a window...?"

Draconian was about to explode with rage. Her fair little face was covered with swelling red, and her light gray eyes were fixed on the person in front of her. She raised her arm, and her slender platinum nails grabbed Hermione's hair with the sound of the wind -

The next moment, the cold iron touched her slender neck that she was always proud of.

The girl was forced to lift her chin higher.

She felt what it was.

A sharp... table knife.

——Hermione easily turned her head to avoid the grabbing hand, bent down, twisted her waist, twisted her ankles, and stuck to Draconian in an instant, then put the blade still stained with salad dressing on her neck.

太…

Fantastic.

This is what power feels like.

This is physical art.

Hermione's fingers trembled with excitement.

—Draconi too.

No, not exactly 'that' kind of excitement. Compared to the excitement 'she' gave herself, the excitement that others... others... at least Hermione gave herself was completely different from the excitement that 'she' gave herself. Right now, it was just a thin layer of emotion as bland as water...

Too little...

Too...

Ordinary.

"What are you thinking about, Miss Pureblood?" Hermione looked at her two followers who were stepping forward but not daring to come over, and curled her lips: "I feel you are shaking. How embarrassing, a pureblood..."

Draconi didn't say anything, she closed her eyes tightly, her slightly curled eyelashes trembling uncontrollably.

"Hey…"

Feeling something was wrong, Hermione frowned, carefully moved the blade away, and pushed her back.

The blonde girl woke up from her dream.

She shook her head, ignoring the salad dressing on her neck, and turned around muttering something.

Hermione: "..." She was scared silly?

No way?

"De——"

The departing figure did not respond, and she even ignored her own followers and walked away on her own.

'…wrong.'

'Not... all... will...'

'It turns out that she is special...'

After turning around, an indescribable strange and distorted expression appeared on his face that no one could see, and a cluster of fire that fed on fog seemed to be ignited in those gray eyes.

'think…'

"I still want that feeling..."

The shudder did not come as expected, but it did not disappoint the owner of the body. At least, she was sure of one thing.

…It is an invisible, unique flower.

Fanatical pure-blood nobles are always paranoid and neurotic.

Chapter 159 Come on Imhotep

The chubby boy with curly hair trembled as he brushed away the dead leaves in front of his feet. The forbidden forest was still eerie in the afternoon. For a first-year wizard, violating the ban and entering here alone was simply courting death.

——Well, it’s not a violation…

He was invited by Ms. Ansuna.

Somehow, this exotic lady found him after class.

'You're suited to another.'

She said: 'I can see you've tried everything you can to overcome your fear... Boy, you're going the wrong way.'

He couldn't remember what was said afterwards. He nodded confusedly and was pushed to another person.

It is said that he is Ms. Ansuna’s husband…

Are all of them fighting teachers?

The afternoon sun was bright enough to not shine into the forest. Wet mist rolled up from the dead leaves and mud, rolling up to his knees, covering the damp forest with a thin, thick blanket. The closer he got to the agreed location, the more obvious the tinkling sound became.

Deep in the forest, he saw a muscular man.

Bald head, dark skin, bare upper body. His knotted muscles contracted when he raised the hammer head, and bulged when he lowered it; his arms were probably thicker than his waist, and his neck was thick, with bulging veins; his eyebrows were straight, with sharp brow peaks, but his eyes were full of doubts, and he would look at the wooden tool in his hand from time to time.