Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Mudseed Effect

Early in the morning, Nietzsche saw several people fighting in the lounge, with shouts like "My dad is higher up in the Ministry of Magic than yours" and "My bloodline is stronger than yours."

That's very Slytherin-like.

There's a kind of English drunkard's beauty in it.

The one who did the beating was a short-haired upperclassman. He was very tall and muscular. With a wave of his wand, he pinned another Slytherin against the window.

The fish passing by outside the window looked curiously at the wizard who was pressed against the window.

"Warrington, if you want to be the Chaser, wait until I graduate." Marcus watched Nietzsche's departing figure, disdainfully tossing him back to the ground and stomping on him. "I'm the Quidditch captain!"

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

He could only watch helplessly as the other man used a cutting spell to cut the broom in the other man's hand in two.

It wasn't until the tall and gruff Marcus left that some wizards came forward to help Warrington up. They were all Slytherin half-blood wizards, but reasoning with him was completely ineffective here.

Bloodline determines interpersonal relationships and power dynamics.

"Forget it, by the time you finish your OWL exams, Marcus will have graduated too..."

However, Warrington knelt on the ground, silently holding the shards of the broom.

Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy from the next dormitory was also watching, engrossed in how the Slytherins resolved their conflict in private, while also noticing Nietzsche, who had just woken up.

“You see, he thinks Marcus isn’t suited to be a chaser. There are always mixed-race players who can’t get their place.”

Perhaps, as Daphne suggests, Draco learned something new from the Slytherin headmaster and was therefore confident that he could turn the tide.

His confidence seemed to have returned.

"You really love learning! I'm ready for a real wizard duel with you anytime, a one-on-one contest... Put away that stick!"

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

“My lord!” Nietzsche stretched and yawned in the green sunlight filtering through the Black Lake. “But I need to go to the dean now. Don’t you know he’s giving me private lessons?”

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

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

"Hopefully someone in Slytherin will be willing to be your assistant, otherwise you'll be facing two opponents... You'll pay the price for your previous actions."

Daphne peeked out from behind Pansy, her expression mocking.

At first, Nietzsche thought that Gryffindor was the most troublesome house, since Hermione was already annoyed by the points deducted there. But that wasn't the case. Perhaps every house was breaking the rules in its own way.

For example, Slytherins always resolve things privately in their own way.

"Perhaps this Muggle wizard has never even heard of wizard duels." Her mockery definitely contained personal emotion.

"Heh... As expected of a Mudblood, assistant! I'll allow you to pick one here, provided they're willing... Hey! Anyone here willing to be Nietzsche's assistant in a wizard duel?"

The fight next door had already ended, and Malfoy's arrogant voice caused the Slytherins, who hadn't had enough of watching the duel, to turn their attention over. Upon hearing Malfoy's words, they all burst into laughter.

Who would help a Gryffindor 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 Gore and Crabbe to the school infirmary as soon as school started, so I’ll only give you two days, Nietzsche. You must accept it, unless you’re a coward! I’ll be here waiting for you in two days!”

Sunday and Monday, it's only two days.

Even if Nietzsche was truly a genius, what powerful magic could he possibly have learned before Tuesday? After all, Malfoy had practiced diligently for a week in order to seek revenge.

Are we counting on that stuttering Professor Quirrell?

Or perhaps invent a magic spell on the spot?

Ha! Unless Nietzsche was Merlin reincarnated!!

Regardless, the advantage lies with Draco Malfoy!

Nietzsche noticed Daphne hiding behind Pansy, nodded slightly, thought for a moment, and calmly said, "If it's just a duel, that's too boring. How about some stakes?"

Um... sorry, Hermione, this isn't something he wants to fight.

Besides, I've bought a lot of things lately and I'm short on cash. Nietzsche is planning to emulate Sherlock's experience of earning extra money in underground boxing rings.

"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. You can only blame yourselves for being spineless."

Nietzsche stared at Warrington, lost in thought.

He suddenly had a brilliant plan in his mind. To shut up these arrogant purebloods, he couldn't do it alone. Each of them had their own mouth, and they could annoy him to death.

“One wager per person.” Nietzsche pointed to the crowd watching behind the other man and said impatiently, “You bunch of fools, if you lose, don’t talk about bloodlines in front of me!”

The wizards with pure-blood backgrounds, such as Sabini and Parkinson, were so angry that they glared at each other.

However, some half-blood wizards who had just gotten up from the ground stood frozen in place, staring at him in disbelief...

In Nietzsche's observation, Slytherin was not a rope, in which the contradiction between mixed-race and pure-blooded people was irreconcilable, and the former could only conform to the latter in the larger environment.

To put it cynically: Even if we knew, what choice would we have?

“If I win, you will break ties with Gryffindor and join me…” Draco didn’t think he would lose, and he firmly believed that he would become a worthy heir to the family.

"make a deal!"

But nobody cares what the half-bloods and Muggle wizards think.

Or rather... what kind of trouble can these people cause?

When Nietzsche walked through the corridor outside the dungeon and arrived at the Potions classroom, it was already ten o'clock. There were no students in sight, because no one would want to come to the bat cave on the weekend.

Of course, Nietzsche didn't want to either; he was forced into it.

"You were ten minutes late for the agreed time. Normally, I would deduct ten points."

Snape's voice came from the corner of the classroom. Looking in the direction of the voice, you could see Snape rummaging through something in the cabinet where potion ingredients were stored, hidden in the shadows.

"That's because your dear student Draco Malfoy wanted to duel me first thing this morning; clearly, they look down on Mudbloods..."

"Shut up!!" Snape whirled around, his voice blazing. "Don't say that to me again, and don't let it happen again!"

But he discovered that although Nietzsche said it intentionally, he didn't seem to know the actual meaning of 'Mudblood,' because his flat tone was as if he were talking about how many pieces of bread he ate in the morning.

"I'm sorry, I thought Slytherin allowed students to use blood attacks."

“Bloodline?” Snape strode up to him, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. “That’s a pure insult, like… a filthy bastard…”

Nietzsche was somewhat surprised.

You know, Snape, as the head of Slytherin, was the kind of person who was indifferent and didn't care about anything that didn't concern him. But now he was getting angry because of an offensive word.

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

“Then you should shut your precious student up instead of taking it out on me. It won’t change anything, Dean Snape.” Nietzsche walked past him and went straight to the desk.

Snape knew perfectly well that Malfoy was indeed capable of saying it.

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

“Hermione always says I’m good at making excuses, looks like I have a companion now.” Nietzsche shrugged. “Don’t worry, if you’d like, I can make the atmosphere in Slytherin a little better.”

Snape's expression changed for a moment, then returned to its previous indifference.

"Memorize the potion list for me. I don't believe someone who can't even figure out the names of potions can beat a Malfoy."

Honestly, Nietzsche thought the professor was making him work for free, but he didn't expect that he was actually being forced to memorize texts.

"You know about this?"

"Hmph, what hobbies could a student who I have to force to memorize the steps to make potions have... I don't think he'll suddenly become a lover of studying overnight."

"Then why don't you teach me a few moves?"

Was Snape really the kind of person who was cold on the outside but warm on the inside?

If that's the case, Nietzsche is willing to apologize for his previous prejudice.

“Don’t you have a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?” Snape chuckled coldly. “Let me see how well this professor teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts. Don’t worry, I can at least guarantee you won’t die.”

Sorry, Snape was a living, breathing cold-blooded animal, and his prejudices were correct.

There are nearly seventy-six potions in the potion series, and Nietzsche's task is to memorize all the potion names, effects, and perfect states.

"By the way, what I mean is, as long as you don't die on the spot, I can save you even if you're still breathing. After all, I rarely use those kinds of mischievous little curses."

Snape was definitely petty, but he succeeded in his goal, and Nietzsche suddenly shuddered.

Nietzsche, who currently only knows the Freeze and Levitate spells, can only pin his hopes on Professor Quirinus Quirrell. Leaving aside whether the experiment can succeed within two days, he would be grateful if he could acquire some counter-spells.

In the darkness, what was originally a contest between two wizards—a Muggle and a pureblood—seems to have turned into a duel between two professors.

Nietzsche was unaware that what had just happened that morning, after just one lunch, had changed everything; he was now being secretly watched almost everywhere he went.

He still underestimated how boring Hogwarts students were on weekends.

During the leisurely time after lunch, Nietzsche couldn't find any entertainment, and the Muggle's electronic devices were malfunctioning. He couldn't very well take out the Colt revolver that his father, Watson, had hidden in his luggage.

So he could only kill time in the library on the fifth floor, but when he walked between the Latin and Rune books, Nietzsche quickly realized why his classmates were staring at him.

"I heard someone in Slytherin is leading a rebellion against the Malfoys. What? Of course not Harry Potter... I don't know..."

At a long table right next to the window, several first-year students were having an enthusiastic discussion. Judging from the badges on their chests and their yellow and black bow ties, they were from Hufflepuff.

"Who did you listen to?"

"I saw it with my own eyes!" Nietzsche had seen this girl with two braids on the train. "I...I was planning to take the cauldron out of the Potions classroom to practice, and guess who I saw..."

"Wait a minute... Hannah, you've been secretly taking Potions class behind our backs?!"

“Cough---” the girl said to herself, “That’s right! I saw Malfoy locked up in the classroom, haha... You didn’t see it, his hands and clothes were covered in slug slime.”