Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Perhaps Neville was too eager to prove himself because of Draco's mockery. Just as Madam Hooch put her whistle to her lips, before she could even blow it, Neville kicked off and dashed off.

He shot straight up seven meters into the air, about two or three stories high, like a rocket that had been lit.

After Kanavi flew up, he panicked. He didn't know what to do next, and the broom between his legs became uncontrollable, shaking him off to the other side.

"Oh my God!"

Seven meters isn't too high, so the time it took to fall and the unexpected situation left Madam Hooch no time to draw her wand. In just a second, Neville instinctively raised his arm in mid-air and fell to the ground.

Mrs. Hooch ran to him in a panic to check on him.

"Wrist broken, but it's healed...don't worry." The accident happened so quickly that she didn't have time to scold the child. She could only pick the child up and carry him towards the castle, constantly turning back to issue a loud warning.

"None of you are allowed to move, or you'll be kicked out of school before you even see what Quidditch is! Put your flying brooms on the ground!!"

Thank goodness, Nietzsche quickly dropped the broom, which looked like a withered twig, onto the ground.

But such a warning was meaningless to Malfoy. What a joke! Who could fire him? As soon as Mrs. Hooch's figure disappeared through the gate, he burst into laughter.

"Hey! Have you guys seen that big oaf?"

The rest of the Slytherin didn't find it funny, but they just echoed it.

"Shut up!" Parvati, having picked up some of Maggie's temper, roared sternly.

“Ah, Parvati, why are you protecting Neville Longbottom?” Pansy retorted. “Looks like you really like that fat, crybaby.”

She seems to know how to use public opinion to shut others up.

Such emotional remarks are taboo for girls, so Parvati could only clench her fists and glare silently at the ugly lion's head.

“I don’t understand what’s so funny. Are all Slytherins this kind of lowbrow people?” Harry retorted, not to be outdone. “Maybe you should learn from Nietzsche what a real Slytherin is like.”

So the Slytherins shut their mouths.

Nietzsche, Nietzsche, Nietzsche... It's always him, and it's always his name!

Draco immediately spotted the spot where Neville had just fallen, where there was a shiny golden memory orb. He ran over and picked it up.

"It seems Potter is very noble. Why don't you return the memory orb that his grandmother sent him yourself!" His face became ugly with a sneer, and he vented all his emotions on the others.

He held up the memory ball and rode the flying broom.

“Give it to me, or I’ll let you taste the punch I gave you on the train,” Harry said grimly.

Blood rushed to Malfoy's head, making his ears ring. He rode on his tattered broom, pushed off with his legs, and rose into the air, looking down at the people on the ground.

Perhaps Nietzsche set a good precedent, to the point that the Gryffindors thought he was easy to bully?

Harry, caught up in the excitement, also rose into the air, but when he was on the same level as Malfoy, he realized how wonderful it was to have such an innate and effortless ability.

He suddenly understood why Nietzsche and Hermione were so passionate about learning.

Hermione tried to stop him, but Nietzsche grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

“It’s still class time!” she whispered. “When Madam Hooch comes back, she’ll deduct points from Gryffindor and punish Harry Potter. Do you think I don’t want to teach Malfoy a lesson?”

“You know Malfoy won’t let this opportunity slip by. If no one stops him, Neville’s memory orb will definitely be thrown away. Someone has to step up… Can you ride a broom? I certainly can’t.”

Harry didn't go there because he was a Gryffindor; he considered Neville a friend. Perhaps he knew he would end up like Neville... but at least someone would remember his sacrifice.

That said, it is indeed surprising that Harry Potter, a wizard raised in an ordinary family, has such a high level of talent in this area.

Amidst cheers and applause, Harry charged headlong at Malfoy, who deftly dodged him.

Finally, Malfoy threw the glass ball with all his might, while Harry bent down, leaning outwards, holding the broom in his left hand to keep himself from falling, and catching the memory ball with his right hand when he was only 0.6 meters from the ground.

The Gryffindors surrounded him and celebrated loudly.

Meanwhile, some of the Slytherins looked at Harry with envy, lost in thought.

"Harry Potter!"

Looking towards the sound, Professor McGonagall rushed over from the castle tower; she had just witnessed Harry's series of flying maneuvers in her office.

"How dare you..." Anger flashed behind his glasses. But his words were filled with fear and concern, "Do you know that what you just did could have broken your neck if you weren't careful!"

"It wasn't his fault, it was Malfoy's..."

"Shut up, Miss Parvati!"

Before Madam Hooch could return, Professor McGonagall grabbed Harry by the collar and dragged him out, striding toward the castle.

But it was clearly Malfoy's mistake, so Gryffindor, led by Parvati and Ron, vented their anger on Slytherin. But Slytherin was so arrogant that they naturally wouldn't tolerate it.

Gryffindor's initial goodwill towards Slytherin, which stemmed from Nietzsche, plummeted back to zero because of Malfoy.

Harry was unaware that the two groups had begun to clash the moment he left.

“If Harry is going to be expelled from school, why don’t we just take Malfoy to the professor? There were two people who just flew up. You don’t need to lose your interests because of Malfoy.”

Hermione didn't want to shift the blame, so she dragged out the smug Malfoy who was hiding behind the crowd.

The little snakes of Slytherin thought about it and realized that what they said was true.

This has nothing to do with them... It was Malfoy who bullied Neville and provoked Potter, so why are they standing in his way?

Despite their strained relationship with Gryffindor, they weren't fools; it was obvious who was causing trouble for whom.

Whether it was because he had come to a decision or because he didn't want to get involved in unnecessary trouble, Theodore was the first to make way, followed by Hubble, and then a number of people gradually made way from both sides.

Nietzsche, on the other hand, whistled lightly.

"Gentlemen, Slytherins are all resourceful people; they can certainly distinguish between advantages and disadvantages."

Chapter Thirty-Three: Slytherin's Choice

The headmaster of Hogwarts is Albus Dumbledore.

As the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and the greatest wizard of the century, he is very busy!

He was either eating the latest desserts, or wandering around the castle with his hands behind his back, humming to himself. In addition, he also needed to chat with the Sorting Hat when it woke up... so naturally he couldn't notice all the students at the same time.

"Minerva?" He looked at the old professor who had entered, somewhat surprised. "I don't recall assigning you anything recently..."

Professor McGonagall, who had been in a great mood, immediately pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows.

“It’s not about that, and—you can’t keep pushing the principal’s job onto me!” she sternly rebuked the other person’s shameless behavior. “There won’t be a next time!!

Hmm? That sounds familiar.

McGonagall conjured a wooden chair and sat down, only to discover that a bat was hiding behind Dumbledore.

"Okay, okay, I'll be careful." Dumbledore nodded perfunctorily as he grabbed a handful of crawling cockroaches from the bowl beside him. "So you climbed up to the eighth floor just so I could give you a raise?"

"It's about the Gryffindor Quidditch team, you know—ever since Charlie graduated and went to Romania to study dragons, the team's strength has been declining. They can't even beat Slytherin anymore."

Snape cleared his throat.

While this statement implies that Slytherin is better than Gryffindor, it still sounds rather odd.

“Ah—yes, that’s right.” Dumbledore licked his lips, focusing his attention on McGonagall for the moment. “You were a Chaser back in the day, so if there’s a suitable candidate…”

"Harry Potter."

"You decide for yourself... What? Harry? Isn't he only a first-year student?!"

Upon hearing the name, Snape instinctively frowned, his dark eyes turning to McGonagall, who was dressed in a green wizard's robe.

"Albus, I saw him catch a ball from over ten meters in the air, hanging upside down with one hand!" Her eyes lit up when she talked about Quidditch. "He's a genius Chaser!"

The only downside is that Harry Potter is only a first-year student.

First-year students are not allowed to participate in Quidditch; at the very least, they must be second or third-year students.

Even Headmaster Dumbledore, who came from Gryffindor, needed to consider carefully the impact of professors breaking school rules.

“Mr. Potter always gets more favoritism.” Snape was disgusted by this. “In the past, Gryffindor students led the way in ignoring discipline without punishment, and now? They can even be praised.”

“Severus…” Dumbledore felt a headache coming on.

McGonagall said expressionlessly, "I've dedicated my whole life to this school and don't need any material rewards, Albus... Of course, after I got injured in the game, I've always wanted someone to complete my life."

Finally, Dumbledore couldn't take it anymore and could only sigh and nod slightly.

Since the vice-principal has put it this way, if he still doesn't let it go, it would be a huge waste of Professor McGonagall's hard work for the school.

"By the way," he shifted his focus back to the previous topic, not bothering to hide it from Minerva, "Severus, that child you mentioned has been getting quite close to Quirrell lately?"

He knew Quirinas Quiro, a decent graduate.

Dumbledore gave him the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor because he had previously taught Muggle Studies, so he was qualified and had solid theoretical knowledge. His only shortcoming was that he had no background.

But he considered this shortcoming to be harmless.

But ever since Quirrell came back, things have changed drastically, and the stark contrast makes it hard for Snape not to have doubts.

"Near?" Snape's cold gaze swept over him quickly. "The curse that broke Malfoy's arms last time was a new trick invented by Nietzsche and Quirrell."

Professor McGonagall looked back and forth between the two of them, seemingly lost in thought.

She knew about the duel and could see the changes in Quirrell, but what did that have to do with Nietzsche, that child?

“It’s possible that Quirrell taught him, Albus. You can’t doubt an eleven-year-old child without reason!”

“But that’s just a Levitation Charm…” Dumbledore’s words hit her like a ton of bricks. “I know Quirinus well. For some reason, he didn’t study standard spells very well during his student years.”

"That really was just a levitation spell?!"

If anyone else had said this, Professor McGonagall would have thought it was a cursed joke.

“How young, how intelligent, he remains unshaken even when isolated by his classmates, he… I’m sorry.” Behind Dumbledore’s half-moon spectacles, a look of apology flickered in his eyes. “I’m worried that he might be led astray by some people in Slytherin.”

"You mean that person?"

Professor McGonagall dismissed his last sentence as nonsense.