Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

"You've been given some PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) by a Muggle wizard..."

Excessive startle response, high alertness, and involuntary recall of trauma-related memories, with severe emotional reactions triggered by the surrounding environment.

It was as if Hermione had cast the Freeze Curse on him again.

"Then...what is that?"

"The psychological damage humans suffer from after excessive trauma in a short period of time." Nietzsche was staring at him, but his hand didn't stop cutting the steak. "It seems the Malfoy family is quite powerful..."

Moreover, this suggests that Draco was well protected.

This is a trauma caused by an excessive fantasy about reality and the resulting discrepancy.

Draco's ideas about the magical world within his family were probably the kind of fantasies nobles had about serfs, but the reality was that serfs not only didn't grovel before their slave owners, but they also slapped them in the face.

"Maybe...maybe." Malfoy was taken aback by what he was told.

He couldn't understand it, but it sounded very professional.

But the way Nietzsche was cutting his steak while staring at him sent a chill down his spine.

Hmm, looks pretty stupid... Nietzsche mentally marked the key point. Since he's stupid, that makes things easier. It means he can get more information out of Draco Malfoy.

"Look, he's talking to Malfoy!" Ron exclaimed, craning his neck to look at the Slytherin table with a chicken leg in his mouth.

Ron Weasley's first impression of Nietzsche was good. After Hermione and he returned to their cell, he heard Harry reminiscing about those Muggle schools... mostly about beating up people like Malfoy, so it couldn't be too bad, right?

The question is, how did a Muggle wizard get into Slytherin House?

"Ha, he must be trying to trick me into revealing information." Hermione withdrew her gaze and sneered.

“But you said Nietzsche was adopted. Is it possible that… his biological parents were wizards?” Ron swallowed the dry chicken with difficulty and continued, “Slytherin would never allow a wizard of Muggle blood to enter.”

impossible?

If Hermione was too nervous and didn't hear the Sorting Hat's ramblings, she would indeed have been led astray.

"That's now. When I heard the Sorting Hat talking about this, it clearly distinguished between 'now' and 'before.' Perhaps the original Hogwarts didn't have so many unspoken rules."

"Impossible, absolutely impossible!"

Hermione cut the steak with increasing force, and Lavender and Parvati, listening to the sound of the knife scraping against the gold plate, felt a chill run down their spines.

Miss Granger, indignant, admitted that she had indeed mistaken the piece of meat for Nietzsche.

Why is this happening? Why is she angry?

She didn't know either. Maybe it was because he wasn't in the same college as her, since kids that age are bound to be a bit emotional; or maybe it was because of his nonchalant attitude...

"So you're going to argue with me?" Hermione stuffed a piece of meat drizzled with black pepper sauce into her mouth and mumbled, "Nothing is impossible in this world, and I'd love for you to take me seriously!"

Harry initially thought the girl in front of him just wanted to take out her notebook to write this down.

To his great surprise, Hermione Granger pulled a thick book out of her bag, the cover of which read "A History of Magic".

She had two copies of this magical history book, which cost 2 Galleons. She carried one with her and kept the other in her suitcase. In fact, Hermione was just worried that she would forget to bring the book to class, so she prepared one as a spare for each subject.

So Hermione slammed the book down on the table.

"Are you crazy? Classes don't start until tomorrow." Ron wanted to slap himself twice.

Why do I have to be so talkative and argue with this academic genius who can cast a spell even before the start of the semester?

Hermione's fingers deftly turned the pages, one hand twirling the paper while the other forked a piece of New Zealand roast meat. Once she got serious, she hardly cared what others thought.

I've been influenced by Nietzsche to some extent.

“When Hogwarts was first established, it was during the witch hunt. Back then, any wizard could get in, so who would set up bloodline requirements?”

"Perhaps...perhaps those who weren't purebloods were taken into the other three academies..."

“The lyrics to the Sorting Hat are the key!” Hermione interrupted Harry. “Those cunning and treacherous people will stop at nothing to achieve their goals... Character is the key, bloodline is just one factor.”

What era are we living in? Why are we still talking about bloodlines?

The last Muggle who promoted the theory of bloodline was beaten down by the Red Giant before his collapse.

"Perhaps so. The Sorting Hat also said that Slytherin could help me achieve great things... If it were truly about bloodline, it would have mentioned my parents."

Harry thought about it and concluded that Hermione's point was valid.

The key point is that the Sorting Hat clearly points out its strong determination to prove itself. It is precisely because of this purposeful thought and emotion that it felt it could also go to Slytherin.

Looking back, everything can be equated with those lyrics.

Even though Ron was still somewhat unconvinced, Hermione's overwhelming logic and Harry's agreement forced him to nod in agreement for the time being... the latter was the main reason.

"Ha~ It seems Harry is adapting quickly."

Dumbledore had a clear view from the platform. He took a sip of his wine and smiled with satisfaction in the direction of Gryffindor.

"The Weasley son...and the somewhat clever girl, who liked to show off the spells she had just learned before school even started," Snape said coldly. "Apart from everyone else, perhaps all they saw was 'the savior'."

His lips curled into a sarcastic smile, as if mocking those who only saw the halo above Harry Potter's head, or perhaps mocking Harry for creating the lively atmosphere for no reason.

The story that happened on the train was naturally heard from Malfoy.

Professor McGonagall, however, was quite happy. On the contrary, the short, goblin-like headmaster beside her turned his head to the other side, looking like he was saying, "If you're unhappy, don't call me."

"Alright, Felius, this is all the Sorting Hat's arrangement~" McGonagall was the one who was smiling the most.

Look, a student who can use magic just two months before the start of school isn't a Ravenclaw!

"Hmph, two hats! Gryffindor would be one thing, but why did one go to Slytherin?" Headmaster Ravenclaw glared at Snape's long face, his teeth itching. "What a waste!!"

A ghost suddenly floated over the Slytherin table.

It was terrifying, with dull, lifeless eyes, dressed in a French aristocratic gown, and walked through the wall with the ghost lady from Ravenclaw, sitting down next to Malfoy.

Nietzsche, meanwhile, had just finished watching a French magic trick performed by the ghost above the Gryffindor table next door:

Where is that amazing brain?

"Why are you looking at me?" Nietzsche said eagerly. "What, do you want to perform like it? It's okay, you don't need to look at me, just do whatever you want."

The terrifying, blood-covered ghost sat beside Malfoy, shaking his head repeatedly after hearing Nietzsche's words.

"Hmph, I wasn't sent to the guillotine, I'm Blood Man Barrow!!"

The bloodstains on Barrow's face, coupled with his eerie voice, caused the small snakes around him to move to the other end of the table. They had originally wanted to scare the impudent little wizard, but unfortunately, Nietzsche did not react at all.

Uh oh, that's it?

Having experienced the horrific sight of a human head in the refrigerator the very first morning, Nietzsche didn't find it grotesque or terrifying; in fact, he almost laughed.

“Hmm, okay…then why do you still have so much blood on you?” Nietzsche stared at the blood-soaked Barrow and analyzed curiously, “This kind of bloodstains all over your body can’t just be from major arteries.”

"Did you die in the war, pierced through the body by dozens of cavalrymen?"

That doesn't quite make sense either. Barrow's clothes were all intact, and it's unlikely that a nobleman like him would die on the battlefield.

“It’s obvious, kid! This isn’t my own blood!” Barrow said fiercely. “If you have this much energy, you should be thinking about how to get Slytherin to seven consecutive championships!”

It floated away after it finished speaking.

The Slytherins around glanced at the unpopular newcomer, somewhat numb. Bloody Barrow couldn't stand the probing gaze and actually ran away... ran away?!

Is this still the same Barrow who scared 'Nearly Headless Nick'?

Even Malfoy couldn't help but swallow hard. After weighing the pros and cons, he felt it was better to turn enemies into friends.

“You can make friends as long as you distance yourself from those mud-blooded people. I can help you with that.”

"I'm full, how about you?" Nietzsche tossed the napkin aside, picked up his cane, and walked towards the Gryffindor table. "I'm going to chat with a friend for a while, so I won't bother you any longer. See you later!"

This has never happened before.

A Slytherin stepped toward the Gryffindor dining table.

Even some Slytherin wizards who had friends in other houses in private did not dare to do these things openly.

This behavior is tantamount to putting oneself on a fire.

“Who cares?” Nietzsche shrugged.

Chapter Fifteen: Slytherin Dungeons

Compared to the somber and quiet atmosphere of Slytherin, Gryffindor is the other extreme.

One is extremely restrained and repressed, while the other is extremely flamboyant.

After all the wizards had eaten their fill, the main course on the table was replaced with a variety of desserts and fruits, including Hermione's favorite strawberry pudding.

Just as she placed a small bowl of pudding in front of herself, ready to dig in, another silver spoon immediately scooped up more than half of it.

"Don't you Slytherins have your own food?" she blurted out as she turned around, not even seeing what was behind her.

It was precisely because she knew who it was that her words were so sharp.

"Don't you know a truth about food?" Nietzsche said seriously, as if he were naive, "The best food is always the one in someone else's bowl... This idea actually works on me too."

"Have they abandoned darkness and embraced the light?"

"There are very few black wizards in Slytherin; among the freshmen, there's only Braith Sabine..."

Hermione glanced in the direction of Slytherin. Well, in a sense, it couldn't really be considered 'abandoning darkness'.

It's really strange that a Slytherin has managed to infiltrate a group of Gryffindors and seems to be doing quite well.

The little snakes had initially wanted to see how Nietzsche was expelled, but when they saw the two red-haired boys hooking their arms around his shoulders, their brows furrowed tightly.

Can anyone tell them why the Sorting Hat included Nietzsche?

"Draco, what's his background?" A girl with short, black, curly hair sat down next to Malfoy. Her voice was shrill, and her attitude was equally rude.

She pulled away another Slytherin standing next to Malfoy, and the other dared not utter a word of complaint.

“I don’t know. You can have some fun with him. Don’t worry about me, Pansy.” Draco innocently raised his hands and shook them, indicating that he shouldn’t be a concern. “Maybe you’ll make him realize what reality is.”

You need either strength or confidence.

Malfoy certainly didn't think that the Sorting Hat sorted him into Slytherin solely because of his past beliefs about their bloodline. On the contrary, people like him believed that they were the true Slytherins.

“Lucian Ball already dislikes him, but Prefect Gemma Farley doesn’t want to get involved…”