Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

But this answer couldn't satisfy their desires—as roommates, they could no longer tolerate Hermione's occasional silly giggles from under the covers.

"Does this 'no' mean 'things aren't going well between you,' or 'you don't like him at all'?" Lavender leaned back in his chair, propping his legs up on the table with a nonchalant air.

Stay calm, Granger... Hermione told herself.

The more they pressed her for answers, the less she could afford to panic, especially when dealing with a lion who fed on gossip. So Hermione took a few deep breaths and relaxed.

"I have only one question—why don't you ask Nietzsche to take the initiative?"

Hermione used her trump card: a substitution.

*The test was successful, and the results were outstanding.

Yes, even if Hermione and Nietzsche are really as these people guess, why didn't the other take the initiative? After all, she's a lady... and it doesn't contradict 'Little Mag's' seriousness.

Now, Hermione took the initiative and it was her turn to question Lavender and the others.

"Well..." Lavender thought for a moment, and didn't seem to see anything wrong with it.

“Is it possible—and I mean, just maybe,” Hermione said calmly, suppressing her racing heart, “that I’m waiting for some self-proclaimed ‘gentleman’ to take the initiative?”

Innocence no longer mattered to her; all she wanted was to get her revenge.

Hermione wanted to watch them stare at each other, speechless and helpless... how delightful! She seemed to understand the mindset of someone like Irene Adler.

Actually, Hermione's position was misplaced because she often acted very assertively, so they subconsciously placed Hermione in the position of taking the initiative.

But from a traditional standpoint, Hermione isn't wrong either...

"Love is war, and taking the initiative means surrender!" Parvati suddenly said. "You're right... As expected of Hermione Granger, she can easily see through the true nature of things. Don't worry, we'll help you!"

"Right, so... huh? Help me?"

Hermione felt as if she had lifted a rock and dropped it on her own foot.

"I get it!" Lavender exclaimed, slapping his thigh in sudden realization.

Hermione looked at them with fear.

What have you figured out now?! Don't do anything reckless!

She said, "In that case, you need to maintain a kind of intimate distance. You need to let Nietzsche take the initiative... to make him feel that 'I want to go further myself'."

"Wouldn't that make Hermione seem like a jerk?" Parvati hesitated.

They're clearly a group of people who've only ever watched romance movies, but now they seem to be genuinely offering advice.

“Hey~ what do you know? These days guys just love this kind of thing.” Lavender glanced at Hermione and continued, “Of course, you also need to change your outfit. Forgive me for being blunt, but it’s really too old-fashioned.”

“No, I mean…” Hermione started to panic.

No matter what she said, those people were absorbed in their own world and ignored her.

Hermione only managed to escape after the banquet ended. The Halloween dinner had come to a perfect close, and the wizards, having eaten and drunk their fill, began to walk arm in arm toward the lounge.

But when they walked out of the auditorium, they couldn't move.

Everyone was blocked at the marble staircase in the hall, and Filch's angry shouts could be heard from there.

"I told you no magic in the hallway!" he yelled. "I'm warning you... quickly break the spell on your classmate and Mrs. Lorris."

"Go and call the professor!" Percy rushed downstairs in a panic.

Influenced by last year's 'Giant Attack Incident', everyone began to feel a sense of unease. Instead of following the prefects' instructions to obediently return to the common room, they helped each other as they made their way to the third floor.

At the same time, they needed a leader, so Hermione and Nietzsche were chosen.

Neither of them needed to squeeze through, because the Gryffindor and Slytherin students automatically made way for them when they saw them coming.

This was the first time Nietzsche had seen Argus Filch's hideous face. He could only see him gripping Harry and Ron by the back of their necks, with a cat hanging from a torch stand behind him and a student lying on the ground.

“Potter, you’re finished!” Filch pointed at him and cursed, “You know I’m a… Fine, you want to embarrass me, don’t you? I’m going to hang you up and whip you!”

Faced with his interrogation, Harry could only keep his eyes and mouth tightly closed to avoid getting saliva in.

“It was already like this when we arrived,” Neville explained in horror.

Nietzsche stepped past them, crouched down to observe, and found Colin lying stiffly on the ground, as if he had been petrified, but his eyes did not move and his breathing was very weak.

His posture remained unchanged from before he was petrified—his right hand held a camera, and his left hand held a photograph, which he hadn't yet put in his pocket.

Hermione walked among them, waved her wand, and easily took Lady Lorris off the frame.

“Thank you… Oh, poor Mrs. Lorris…” Filch threw Harry and Ron to the ground and immediately picked up the cat. “No, I can’t feel its breath anymore, Miss Granger?”

He first wiped away his tears with his dirty, rough robe before carefully holding the cat and handing it to Hermione.

"It wasn't me!" Harry exclaimed as he got up, immediately clearing himself of suspicion. "Why would I attack Colin? He's a Gryffindor too."

“It was you all! When I found Mrs. Lorris, you were the only ones I saw.” Filch’s tears fell onto the petrified cat. “Miss Granger, they just wanted to bully me… this… Squib!”

He seemed to genuinely believe Hermione was Professor McGonagall.

After all, when people are in a desperate situation, they will always look for the most reliable person around them, and before the professors arrive, a good student like Hermione is Filch's lifeline.

"The secret chamber has been opened. Beware of the successor! Haha... Which Mudblood will be next?"

It was Draco. He had already pushed his way to the front of the crowd. The firelight made his usually fair face appear red. Looking at Colin Crevet on the ground and the bright red writing on the wall, a chilling grin spread across his face.

With his back to the crowd, Nietzsche secretly tucked away the photograph that Colin was holding between his left fingertips.

"Are you happy?" He turned around, his hands in his pockets.

"Sorry, I was just translating what was on the wall..." Draco covered his mouth and said softly, "I'm really sorry if I accidentally startled you, but what does this have to do with us anyway?"

His words caused whispers to begin around him.

Draco didn't back down. Instead, his face darkened, and he arrogantly said, "Of course, if you think I'm the murderer, then go ahead... Heh heh... Holmes, you know nothing about Slytherin."

Chapter Ninety-Seven: The Melted Camera

“I think Mr. Holmes knows Slytherin no less than anyone else…” Dumbledore arrived at the scene, followed by other teachers.

Draco didn't dare to refute, he just snorted and left with his small group.

Lockhart then jumped out, his excitement making him stand out from the others. In his eyes, it seemed as if everything that had happened was just a small drama, which made McGonagall and Little McGonagall frown and purse their lips at the same time.

“I will investigate this matter thoroughly, Argus... There are no students here who would deliberately use such despicable means to bully you,” Dumbledore reassured him.

His expression grew even more serious and angry as his blue eyes swept over the writing on the wall.

“Let’s go to my office!” Lockhart interjected jokingly.

This was the third-floor corridor, the closest to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, so Dumbledore didn't refuse. He simply kept Harry, his two friends, and the two little ones behind, while the other students went back to rest.

Hermione followed behind the professors, inwardly cursing the attackers.

Do the wizards here have some grudge against Halloween?

Filch, carrying Mrs. Lorris in his arms and Colin on his back, followed the group into the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, which was no longer the office Nietzsche knew:

The walls were covered with Lockhart’s various self-portraits and headshots, and the bookshelves were twice the size of what they used to be. Among the few books that were there, most of them were still his own works.

Dumbledore placed Mrs. Lorris and Colin on the empty desk and examined them carefully for a while.

“It must be a transmutation torture spell. I’ve seen others use it many times… It’s a pity I wasn’t there, because I happen to know its counterspell,” Lockhart suggested from the side.

Snape, hidden in the shadows, wore a strange expression after hearing his conclusion, as he struggled to suppress a laugh in such a serious setting.

If he could, he really wanted to laugh: That's it? A Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?

"Nietzsche, what have you discovered?" The principal wanted to combine his findings with Nietzsche's deductions, just like last year.

Harry watched him and Hermione nervously, hoping in his heart that they wouldn't believe Filch's words.

“Mrs. Lorris was hung up, which means... she was hung on the frame by the murderer after she was murdered.” Nietzsche pondered for a moment, then continued, “and Colin just happened to witness Mrs. Lorris’s murder.”

"Why weren't they killed at the same time?" Snape pressed Harry relentlessly.

“Because of this!” Nietzsche said, pointing to the camera, “Colin went back to his dormitory first, and when he saw someone had captured Mrs. Lorris, he intended to record it with his camera…”

Hermione immediately jumped up from her chair and quickly reached for the camera.

Although Colin's hands were unable to pry open and she was gripping the camera tightly, all she needed to do was open the cover and take out the film. Unfortunately, the inside of the camera was completely melted.

“But we do have some questions, such as... why Potter and his two friends were in the third-floor hallway? Why weren’t they at the Halloween dinner?” Snape’s face showed a hint of sarcasm.

He seemed to believe Filch's words without a doubt.

"A dud... In Muggles, such a term usually means 'the gun fails to fire.' Obviously, Mr. Filch is a wizard who cannot use magic. Who at Hogwarts takes this matter seriously?"

Nietzsche met the Dean's gaze without backing down, which deeply moved Harry.

Coupled with the writing on the wall, this was clearly a cathartic attack, intended to create panic within the academy, while Nietzsche simply wanted the principal to explain what the 'successor' really was.

“That must be Potter, no doubt about it!” Filch wailed, pointing at the man. “He’s seen those letters in my closet!”

But Dumbledore neither explained the riddle about the successor nor agreed with Snape and Filch's suspicions.

“We will find the murderer. Alright, Argus, once Pomona’s mandrake matures, we can create a potion to neutralize the effects of dark magic… It and Colin are both still alive,” the headmaster said.

“I’ll prepare it. I can make the resurrection potion with my eyes closed,” Lockhart suddenly interjected.

"I don't believe even a professor of petrification and transmutation spells could make a potion that could save lives... Besides, I'm the Potions teacher here," Snape said coldly.

He then glanced at the office with disgust, and led Mrs. Lorris and Colin, along with Filch, to the school infirmary.

Lockhart seemed eager to show off, but Dumbledore politely declined his offer, saying he had done enough for the night.

"Come with me for a moment," the principal said to Nietzsche and Hermione.

But before leaving, Lockhart, still unwilling to give up, pointed to himself at Nietzsche, indicating that they were the best partners and that he should remember to tell him later.

Nietzsche: You're right, but my official (Hogwarts Headmaster's) designated partner is Hermione Granger.

They entered from the third-floor entrance and went to the principal's office on the eighth floor.

"What's the meaning of that secret room?" Hermione asked as soon as she stepped through the oak door. "Judging from Draco Malfoy's words, this attack is clearly targeting a specific group of people!"

Her angry expression mirrored that of Professor McGonagall, and the two of them glared at Headmaster Dumbledore.

“Albus, I thought you had solved this a long time ago!” McGonagall said angrily.

“First of all, that was Armando’s responsibility, and secondly… even I’m not entirely sure about the Chamber of Secrets.” Dumbledore rested his elbows on the table. “It’s a legend about Salazar Slytherin.”

It sounds like this mysterious secret room was opened once many years ago.