Hermione, let's start the revolution at Hogwarts

"Yeah, yeah, I can't see clearly sometimes." Slughorn walked down the stairs.

In fact, with Nietzsche's previous self-talking and crazy performance, no matter how outrageous Hermione's behavior was, it was considered "normal behavior" in Professor Slughorn's eyes.

Nietzsche sneezed far away at the door of Gringotts.

Chapter 373 Dumbledore Discovered the Abnormal

This dinner held at the Slug Club was not Slughorn's "prey". The theme of this first dinner party was probably "weaving a web" - weaving a big web called "communication".

Hermione was shocked by its size after following the professor into the office: at least it was a hall that could be considered a small auditorium, and there were also several small rooms for sleeping and working.

Dumbledore, dressed as Gandalf, was also here. He was wearing a tattered gray robe and holding a thick "magic wand".

"Albus!" Professor Slughorn shouted exaggeratedly.

He opened his arms to the headmaster, looking very welcome to the Slug Club dinner, and this voice also made many students in gowns look over - to see him and the headmaster hugging each other tightly.

To be honest, Hermione saw a little bit of Lockhart in Slughorn, but the former was more subtle.

"We haven't gotten together for too long..." The professor snapped his fingers and conjured up many desserts and snacks out of thin air, "Fate is really strange, who would have thought that two people of equal strength could get together now."

Hermione turned her head and did not see Marvolo's figure. It seemed that he was not among the invited.

A new generation of wizards gathered here. Looking over, you can see Weasley's red hair running around, and the quiet Astoria is also here. They are all dancing or chatting in the middle of the hall.

Of course, there were some old wizards that Hermione had never seen, probably Slughorn's friends. They all looked like well-known figures, and they were chatting with Hogwarts students with a forced smile.

Such a scene was very similar to the dance in Belfast. Hermione could even see the future through their immature faces.

"Yes." Dumbledore's eyes flickered a few times, and he walked quickly to Hermione and said, "It's really hard for you, Mr. Vida. As an assistant, you have to serve as an acting professor. I thought it was only Horace who had to work hard, but I never thought..."

Hermione calmed down and quickly shook the headmaster's rough hand.

"This is what I should do." She said seriously.

For some reason, she always felt that Dumbledore's eyes were like needles, making her very uncomfortable, so she quickly turned her head away.

"Sit down, Vida, sit down!" Slughorn interrupted the handshake between the two anxiously, and asked everyone to sit at the round table in the club hall, "I just prepared your favorite wine."

Sure enough, Hermione found a small bottle of Northern Irish whiskey tied with red satin in front of her table.

If she remembered correctly, Nietzsche seemed to be underage... But it doesn't matter, she put it in her pocket for him.

There was a very suspicious action: although the professor was calling those excellent students recognized by himself, his eyes were always fixed on the wall clock, which was very impolite, as if waiting for another guest.

If it was someone else, maybe it was nothing, but the rude one was Slughorn, who was ceremonial and selfish. This behavior obviously violated his thinking concept.

But who else in this school would be more important than Headmaster Dumbledore?

After everyone was seated, the main course was served. The house elves, who were like waiters, carried heavy silver trays and placed cheese potatoes, pasta, and tucker on the smoke-filled table from the middle of each seat.

Everything here was enchanted, even the light bulbs. They were not electric lights, but real elves flashing inside.

"I can see that you put a lot of thought into it." Dumbledore said meaningfully.

"That... where are Severus and Minerva? Aren't they coming?" Slughorn put his thumbs together and kept looking at the closed door.

"They are still hosting the banquet in the Great Hall below."

It was a long torture... Yes, Hermione hated this kind of heavy social life. She would rather spend time doing ten sets of papers than listen to professors talking about the development of the Ministry of Magic in front of her.

Especially Dumbledore. Although he was the headmaster, Hermione was still tired of the feeling of being interfered with.

"Have you heard of Miss Granger? What a pity, I wanted to get to know her." Slughorn said regretfully, "How fast things are developing now. When we were young, we never thought that Muggles and wizards would get together."

Dumbledore sighed deeply about this matter, and his shoulders began to sink, as if he had lost all his strength in an instant.

"Do you know who the current Muggle Prime Minister is?" said the headmaster.

"How would I know? In fact, I am more worried about whether the conflict between Muggles and wizards will become more acute."

"Gilderoy Lockhart." Dumbledore looked at his old friend's gradually enlarged pupils and continued, "Yes, it's that little liar from Ravenclaw, so I am not worried about what you are worried about."

Hermione pursed her lips tightly, and the corners of her mouth curled up a little proudly.

But at this moment, she suddenly felt a burning sensation in her body, which was the alarm issued when the Polyjuice Potion was about to lose its effect.

But...how is this possible? Hermione remembered that the improved potions were divided into four portions, enough for her to use for four days, and the amount she just drank in the girls' bathroom was enough to last for three hours.

"I'm going to the bathroom." Hermione, who was dizzy from alcohol, stood up and planned to leave the Slug Club.

"Mr. Vida, the bathroom is in that room!" Daphne pointed to the room by the window and reminded loudly.

Hermione touched the empty potion bottle in her pocket, and there was nothing left. A bottle of potion was originally formulated for 24 hours, and now it seems that it must be short of weight.

And there are only two possibilities for this: Slughorn had tampered with it, and Nietzsche knew about it but didn't report it; Nietzsche had tampered with it himself.

She glared at the professor angrily, and scared him so much that he shuddered.

Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!

She seemed to hear Nietzsche's treacherous voice again: 'This is also part of the plan~'

"I think I may need to go to the infirmary." Hermione covered her stomach and pretended to say it under the discomfort of the Polyjuice Potion, and quickly left the stuffy office.

Dumbledore blinked, first looked at the back of 'Vida' leaving, and then looked at the wall clock that had been running for an hour and a half.

"As you said, the error is within an hour. It seems that your precise control of the potion is stronger than before." The headmaster seemed to have seen through Hermione's smoke bombs, and said with a thick wand.

"But why is there no movement from Severus?" Slughorn was puzzled, "Is the Great Hall safe?"

"It seems that this matter is easier than I thought." Dumbledore drank a sip of dragon whiskey and spit a ball of hot dragon breath on the half-cooked steak on the plate, heating it up and adding some wine aroma.

Dumbledore initially received Slughorn's reminder about the Polyjuice Potion and thought that 'Vida' would take advantage of Halloween to cause trouble.

As the headmaster, he still had some ideas about Halloween every year, so he would let several professors stay in the auditorium. Even if they failed to prevent students from getting hurt, they could catch the perpetrators and save the students in the first place.

But now it seems that it is just some kind of signal---a prank on Halloween.

"I think I know what's going on." Dumbledore finished his steak with the aroma of whiskey, stood up, and said loudly to the remaining students, "I wish you a good time."

"Wait! What's going on?!" Slughorn trotted like a ball rolling on the ground.

He hated Dumbledore's way of speaking, which made him seem like he was being fooled by both sides at the same time... To be honest, he was a potion master after all, not a fool for others to joke with.

"You are safe." Dumbledore whispered helplessly.

"But Marvolo...that person's Horcrux..."

"Because I'm here." The headmaster interrupted his questioning with a tough attitude and hurried back to the Great Hall, "Also, Happy Halloween!"

Although Slughorn didn't feel happy.

Chapter 374: Crossing Gringotts

"It should be about the same now." Nietzsche, hiding in the street outside Gringotts, was thinking about what should have happened in Hogwarts recently.

Each bottle of Polyjuice Potion has a two-hour error, which is enough for Hermione to reveal the flaws to others.

There will always be people who care about him who will find out the identity of "Vida", and this is also the message he will pass on to Headmaster Dumbledore. After all, he is using this "conspiracy" to convey the message of "I'm not dead".

He wants Dumbledore to know that he has lost, and lost completely.

The headmaster and his old friend initially supported Hermione and taught Hermione with a concept of "balance", but Nietzsche used fake death to promote Hermione's change, making their previous behavior completely "aiding the enemy".

Of course, Nietzsche was more to make some people guess that he was still alive, but it was only a few people.

"I said, why am I not keeping watch here?" Fletch, who came from the Hog's Head, stood at the door of the Crucible, watching the people coming in and out of Gringotts, and kept stamping his feet nervously.

His clumsy dancing like a troll was actually to adapt to the new clothes he had put on. It looked expensive, but in fact, all his clothes were cheap knockoffs, and the gemstone rings on his fingers were cheap glass products.

The suit was tightly wrapped around Mundungus Fletch, making this wizard who always wore a wide robe very uncomfortable.

"Because you are nervous, you will play the role of a Muggle who comes to Gringotts to deposit money for the first time." Nietzsche comforted easily, "Count the steps from the entrance to the anti-thief waterfall, and leave the rest to me."

"But I... I don't have money, and the goblins will only open the door when they see money!" Fletch's thumb and index finger rubbed slightly, indicating that some hard currency should be used.

Nietzsche turned his wrist like a magician and stuffed two postcards into his hands.

One of them was a business card of a Muggle bank, a common thing, but in order to make it look more authoritative and to leave some traces, the other was Nietzsche's S.H.D. official certificate.

"You want me to lie?" Fletch said.

"Don't worry, the goblins will never refuse. Just say that you represent the manager of this bank and come to discuss cooperation. No matter what the goblins say about the Muggle banknotes, you just follow their words."

"Will those goblins believe it? I mean... you have to give me a convincing enough intelligence."

"Gringotts has received a security inspection by the Curse Breaker before." Nietzsche said calmly.

The goblins are very conceited and are very concerned about the safety of Gringotts' wealth. The fact that Bill Weasley was hired by the Ministry of Magic to inspect Gringotts' security protection is a good smokescreen.

They will not question Fletch's truth, because it is all too coincidental.

After reconfirming the plan, Fletch spit into his palm, combed his sparse hair, and walked to the door of Gringotts with his head held high, and successfully passed through two goblin guards holding magic object detectors.

While waiting for news from his accomplices, Nietzsche looked at the passers-by in Diagon Alley with the reflection of bronze and mirrors.

This place is already semi-open to Muggles. Many ordinary people who don't know magic dress themselves up as wizards and monsters and come here through the passage of the Leaky Cauldron, just to celebrate Halloween.

But who knows if there will be a few strange people among the carnival crowd wearing hideous masks...

"Happy Halloween!" A person wearing a banshee mask scattered candy everywhere and screamed.

Then the wizards or Muggles passing by would raise their pumpkin bowls and cauldrons to catch them, and then several cups filled with butter beer would collide in the air.

Such a lively atmosphere is probably enough for the Dementors of Azkaban to have a full meal.

'Where is it? '

Nietzsche hid in the corner indifferently, watching the crowd who could no longer tell who was a wizard and who was a Muggle. He checked for people who had Narcissa Malford's points.

Every time he blinked, the different figures in the locked picture would freeze and be stored in his mind like a slide show.

"First of all, she is a woman...ah ha, an extremely xenophobic pure blood...she may hate the Muggles and wizards here." He chewed the licorice wand hard and examined a few of the less crazy figures.

Narcissa, who is wanted on weekdays, can easily blend into the Halloween in Diagon Alley by wearing a mask.

Nietzsche slightly filtered the characteristics and behavioral logic, and saw that several slender "witches" retreated from the crowd of parade celebrations to the teahouses and ice cream shops around:

She walked crookedly, her center of gravity was unstable, and she was wearing high-heeled boots. She would not be a wizard on a mission.

The other one had her own companions by her side. Judging from the ambiguous actions, they were a couple, and they would not be a Death Eater whose husband had died;

After scanning several witches in succession, Nietzsche finally locked his sight on a woman wearing a black butterfly mask. The other party's eyes were clearly looking towards Gringotts, and she would never interact with the wizards who were throwing candy.

"I got you~" Nietzsche stole a felt hat from the wizard booth next to him and put it on his head, and gradually got into the crowd.

Screams and the crisp sound of cups colliding penetrated his ears, and colorful creams and edible sprays fell on everyone for the first peaceful festival.

Several Muggles, under the instigation of wizard vendors, lit magical fireworks that made a series of spark fairies and bats fly around people's heads, and finally hit those people until they disappeared.

This kind of water fireworks does not actually cause harm to people, so the suspicious witch did not take it seriously.

Nietzsche hid his wand in his sleeves and took the opportunity to control and strengthen the sparks with the fire spell and the transformation spell. He let two bats with sparks fall on the shoulders of the witch, setting her clothes on fire.

"Oh my God! Someone is injured!" Nietzsche rushed over and grabbed the witch's wrist and dragged her out.

Nietzsche's right arm, which was hidden under his robe, pushed back, and the powerful magic made the people around him fall into a short state of slowness.

"Who?" "Get out of the way!"

The Muggles were obviously a little panicked, but because Nietzsche deliberately controlled it, there was no stampede, and the noise only attracted the reconnaissance team left at the entrance of the alley.

Several wizards from the Ministry of Magic came over, dispelled the chaotic Muggles and drunken wizards, and grabbed Narcissa who was busy driving away the fireworks.

"Madam, are you not hurt?" The wizard stepped forward nervously to check.

Whenever the hands of the members of the reconnaissance team reached around her face or arms, the witch would show obvious avoidance, which undoubtedly made Nietzsche more certain of her identity.

"Please leave here with us, okay?" The reconnaissance team tried to ease the other party's tension.

"No, I want to go to Gringotts..." Narcissa shook her head, took a deep breath, and said calmly.

"But it's too chaotic here now, ma'am, please let us at least help you clear a way."

The streets of Diagon Alley are not wide. Apart from the wooden tables placed by the shop owners at the door, the middle road is only enough for seven or eight people to stand side by side. Even if the wizard police want to clear a road, it will take some time.

Seeing this, Nietzsche put the few coins in his pocket, and before Narcissa noticed him, he plunged into the wave of celebration and rushed to the young Muggle who had just set off the fireworks.

"Hey! A few more!" He threw all the pounds on the table and shouted excitedly with an Irish accent, "It's all on me...Friends, peace!!"