Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Of course, one could also be like the Weasley twins, being taken to the office to sit for violating school rules.

"Be careful, I heard those shameless upperclassmen are planning to make a move on you when you leave school." Theodore was focused on the chessboard.

In the magical world where entertainment is scarce, the only things that can help students relax are Gobstone and Wizard's Chess.

That's actually just chess, but it's been enchanted. The way the pieces capture each other is by breaking each other's pieces. If your strategy is too poor, the player might even get criticized by the King and Queen chess pieces.

Sitting opposite Theodore Nott was Ron, and the two were engaged in a tense and exciting game of Wizard Chess.

This is what Slytherin is like after the Quidditch match. Even Ron had to admit one fact—maybe, apart from Malfoy and his gang, they're all pretty good.

"They dare... Aha, take two steps to the side, knights, charge!"

“There’s nothing they wouldn’t dare to do.” Theodore Nott deliberately turned his head away from the chessboard. “After Slytherin lost, Marcus was furious and blamed you for it.”

"Hey! Hurry up, I'm waiting to checkmate you."

But Theodore ignored Ron, and his king could only huddle on his throne, hugging his knees, trembling as he watched his men turn to rubble.

Ron looked at Nott, who was intermittently deaf, and put away the chessboard with satisfaction. He had figured out these Slytherins. When they acted like this, it was basically a sign that they had given up, but they wouldn't say it outright.

But it doesn't matter, as long as he won.

"At worst, Hermione can help you, or you can stay at school during the Christmas break."

Looking at Ron's familiar response, one might mistake Nott for a Hufflepuff... Ever since that Quidditch incident, many Gryffindors have witnessed Percy Weasley and Nietzsche shaking hands.

That's the Weasley family! You know how much they and the Slytherins don't get along.

“Don’t try to drag me down with you. Why don’t you go help him yourself?” Hermione sat at the head of the long table, with the others on either side of her. “I don’t want to go home covered in injuries.”

"Then give me back my things later..."

"Don't even think about it! How many more times do you want to go to the principal's office, Nietzsche!"

Hermione only needed to look up to see everything happening on both sides of the long table. She felt uneasy watching the Gryffindors and Slytherins interacting with each other.

Everything was based on Nietzsche's research at the time, and the farce seemed to be something he did on purpose, but in terms of motive, it seemed like a casual act.

If it were her, Hermione thought it was impossible to do two things at the same time—stirring up emotions in the House and conducting an investigation. This was what she admired most about Nietzsche, because he only needed one opportunity to accomplish both.

Harry got used to it and suddenly found that these Slytherins were easier to get along with than he had imagined.

In fact, they might even admire Harry for his Quidditch skills, which seems to confirm the Sorting Hat's prediction that he might also achieve great things in Slytherin.

"Take it easy. Wood is planning to team up with several other teams to get the professors to kick Marcus out of Slytherin. It would be strange if Marcus didn't go crazy."

Noticing Hermione's gaze, Nietzsche simply put a licorice wand in his mouth.

He casually shrugged, indicating that the matter had nothing to do with him... but Nietzsche wasn't wrong; it was indeed Warrington's own idea. It has to be said that Slytherin knew how to play the game in this regard.

They used every underhanded trick imaginable.

But Hermione's warning was not wrong either, because Slytherin's treachery had not changed; it had simply become a kind of 'righteous' treachery under Nietzsche's influence.

It evokes a sense of déjà vu, like a legitimate plundering ship and the British Navy beating up the Spanish fleet.

"He deserved it!" Ron waved his fist, his eyes searching for the next wizard chess challenger. "If you ask me, this guy who only wins by cheating should have been... what was that Muggle guy's name again?"

"Get out of the game," Nott reminded him.

"Oh right, that's right! If Quidditch didn't have so few substitutes, there should have been a rule to 'send someone off the field' long ago!"

“It’s called a red card during a match, but now it should be called a lifetime ban,” said Dean Thomas of Gryffindor.

Looking at his excited classmates, Nietzsche was momentarily dazed.

He casually pulled Nott aside and asked in a low voice, "Don't tell me this has nothing to do with Warrington."

“Of course, this is a great opportunity. Now everyone sees how Marcus won.” Nott nudged him with his shoulder and grinned slyly. “We know… we’ll never play the game with pure-blood rules.”

Nietzsche Holmes: Hiss hiss?

At first, the little snakes of Slytherin didn't quite understand.

But Warrington later proved this statement with his actions... He first used Quidditch to bring some people from other Quidditch teams closer together, and then took the opportunity to add fuel to the fire and make the fire burn even bigger.

What are the rules for purebloods?

In short, those who hold the power in Slytherin are always the pure-blood faction. They brainwash each new class, telling them what honor is, why bloodlines are paramount, and why Slytherin is superior...

All moral standards and codes of conduct are passed down from one generation to the next.

Until Nietzsche's time... the pure-blooded symbolic system was re-evaluated.

"So we're having a great conversation now, and there's nothing wrong with the Gryffindor people."

“You should have done this a long time ago,” Ron said, head held high. “Believe me, not a single Malfoy is any good…”

Hermione glanced at him but didn't refute him. This was progress, at least Ron had evolved from thinking 'all Slytherins are bad' to only targeting another group. At least he was willing to play chess with Slytherins.

Although he also enjoyed the thrill of winning against the Slytherin students.

“Enjoy it, at least you don’t have to be so petty.” Nietzsche patted Nott on the shoulder and said with a smile, “Maybe it won’t be long before Harry, you won’t have to worry about being deliberately bumped into by someone.”

In the auditorium that serves as a study room, they have become a real sight to behold.

Even the Ravenclaw students were taken aback; it was the first time they'd seen Slytherins and Gryffindors sit together for more than five minutes without any conflict... no, there was some...

Ron Weasley and Slytherin would always have a war of words before playing chess; they called it "momentum."

"So, are you still planning to go back for Christmas?" Harry Potter smiled broadly; he had just finished chatting with a little snake about Quidditch.

"Of course I have to go back. I hope those people won't block my way."

His face was fuller than when Nietzsche first met him, and his hair was shorter, making him look very energetic. When he heard the Slytherin people talking about those expensive flying brooms, his emerald green eyes were filled with curiosity.

For him, perhaps his real campus life has only just begun.

Chapter 50 Christmas Nightmare (Part 1)

By mid-December, everyone was looking forward to the holiday.

As Christmas approaches, the school appears even more magnificent. The cold wind blowing through the corridors makes the potted fir trees along the walls sway back and forth, causing considerable trouble for students during class.

These decorations were all dug up by Hagrid from the Forbidden Forest and then moved to the school.

Draco's mood worsened day by day. Seeing the hostile and disgusted looks in the eyes of the half-bloods and Muggles was even more painful than being mocked by Harry. He would rather watch Slytherin lose again.

Marcus planned to go all out again; he intended to make his move when Nietzsche left the campus and waited for the Super Express at Hogsmeade Station.

"Don't worry, I guarantee you won't be expelled. At most, you'll repeat a year," Draco said confidently.

During a Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Quirrell was stumbling over the concept of 'fighting fire with fire' when he turned around. Draco, sitting in the back row, used a levitation charm to control a snowball and throw it at him.

He found it by searching the corridor window before class.

Because the snowball is squeezed very tightly, it hurts more when it falls from the air than a regular snowball.

Professor Quirrell was looking at the blackboard and writing something with chalk when he suddenly felt a sharp pain in the back of his head that shot straight to his chest. He clutched his dented headscarf and turned around angrily.

"Who?!"

“Sorry, Professor…” Malfoy’s two henchmen chuckled, “It looks like a vampire is sneaking up on you. Maybe your garlic breath isn’t strong enough.”

He thought everyone would laugh at his jokes as usual, but... not everything is static, things are always in motion, so this time no one found his jokes funny.

A third of the Slytherins merely glanced at him, while the other third didn't even turn their heads.

“Indeed, a vampire, Professor,” Nietzsche said calmly. “On this point, I can attest that perhaps garlic alone is not enough; only by throwing the vampire into the sunlight will it work.”

“That makes sense~” Quirrell stepped down from the podium.

Nietzsche was sitting in the front row, so the professor's gaze was initially angry and hesitant as he walked slowly. But after he passed the first three rows, his eyes immediately became terrifying, completely different from before.

Draco Malfoy had only seen that look in his eyes once before.

The only time was when Snape first put him in solitary confinement... perhaps even more terrifying than Headmaster Snape's, as if he were about to have his skin peeled off.

"At worst, we'll just deduct...deduct points..."

"Deduction of points?" Quirrell's left hand, hanging limply on his thigh, tapped rhythmically with his thumb and middle finger. Anger surged from his fingertips along his arm. "I...I think vampires shouldn't...be afraid of deductions."

In this way, the professor still tried his best to keep smiling.

He didn't even draw his wand; he simply lifted Draco up with magic. This familiar scene caused Draco to struggle, but how could physical resistance withstand magic?

Quirrell waved his hand and threw Draco out of the classroom window.

"Puch~"

After everyone heard the sound of Draco being thrown into the snowdrift, Quirrell snapped his fingers and repaired the broken glass.

The silent, staffless spell cast by the man stunned Goyle, Crabbe, and the others, who immediately sat up straight, their eyes fixed on the blackboard, as if they were good students who didn't want to miss any knowledge.

Quirrell only came to his senses after doing all this, and walked back to the podium with his head down.

Friday is the best time to have fun!

After finishing the last potions class before the holiday, the Christmas party was in the evening. The fir trees in the corridor were covered with colorful balls and upside-down icicles, while the hall was filled with mistletoe wreaths.

Hermione glanced at it as she passed by and immediately ran away.

In those corners covered with mistletoe, several pairs of wizards were embracing beneath them... Was this something she should be watching? Was this something someone her age should be seeing?

"Now, we are not celebrating tomorrow's departure, but welcoming the new arrival."

Dumbledore, dressed in a purple wizard's robe, stood in the middle of the seats, raised his wine glass to the students below, and deliberately waved it in the direction of Slytherin and Gryffindor.

Nietzsche, looking upwards, also shook the glass filled with pumpkin juice.

Caramel, mushrooms, and a dry turkey—all essential Christmas foods. While not as good as when school just started, it wasn't bad either. At least the roast turkey was drizzled with sauce, so it wasn't too dry.

Halfway through the banquet, everyone got really into it.

"Butterbeer, anyone want some?" The Weasley brothers would sneak up to each person and call out, "We only charge five nut for a full glass of beer from the Hog's Head."

Quirrell was the only one who couldn't fit in. He sat between Flitwick and Professor Snape, his smile somewhat forced.

“You’ll definitely achieve great things…you definitely can!” Frivi’s beard was stained with brandy as he shouted at the top of his lungs, “Just follow the path you and Nietzsche have taken, and it won’t be long before you surpass me!”

Dean Ravenclaw would occasionally shout at Professor McGonagall, as if to boast: Ravenclaw is the best.

When Flitwick was drunk, he acted more like an elder than a colleague in front of Quirrell. He patted Quirrell on the shoulder, babbling incoherently, and then buried his face in a plate full of chicken bones.

With the Dean gone, only he and Snape remained, facing each other.