Chapter 156

"Sorry, I'm not interested in Quidditch, I can call Warrington..."

"That's better!" Krum cleared his throat and explained, "I mean, I don't want to be watched like a monkey."

Since that's what he said, Nietzsche didn't need to refuse.

However, when the students of Durmstrang sat down in Slytherin, if Nietzsche heard it correctly, it seemed that the whole hall was silent for a second, and then burst into lamentations one after another.

Perhaps because of Hermione, most of the students of Beauxbatons chose the Gryffindor table, while the others were in Ravenclaw.

But the group of French guys, all of them were like wilted eggplants, more or less unhappy.

"Don't pay attention to them, the French are like this, lazy to death." Krum looked at the starry ceiling above his head, and half-jokingly sarcastically said, "They are only interested in chopping off the heads of those in power."

"But now Muggles have no kings." Theodore said on the side.

"Yes, so they are even lazier... In Beauxbatons, walking from the dormitory to the classroom is their daily exercise."

Looking at their frivolous appearance, Nietzsche suddenly had some bad taste.

"Look at the figures of those people, which shows that Beauxbatons is very rich, even the school is so big." His words made the smiles of the Durmstrangs gradually shrink and turn into envy.

Because Nietzsche was right, Beauxbatons is really rich.

So...wouldn't it be more embarrassing for them to laugh at the group of French people?

Three headmasters came in, and when the students of Beauxbatons saw the headmasters, they quickly stood up, and they didn't feel embarrassed. They sat down only when Madame Maxime sat down.

Dumbledore stood between the two headmasters and looked at the students from other schools with a smile.

Everyone thought he would give a long opening speech, but the result was very surprising. Headmaster Dumbledore said directly and clearly:

"The banquet begins!"

As soon as the order was issued, the house elves of Hogwarts brought food to the table.

French fish soup, German elbow, smoked sausage... these are all delicacies that they can't eat on weekdays. The students of Durmstrang were not timid. They ate more diligently than Gryffindor.

And they didn't pay much attention to their appearance. The sauce dripped on their clothes, but they didn't even look at it.

"I'm Polyaco. Are you a contestant this year?" The boy sitting next to Krum wiped the grease from the corners of his mouth with his sleeve, and said vaguely with food in his mouth.

"That depends on the rules. Dumbledore said that contestants must be students in the seventh grade or above to sign up." Nietzsche said calmly.

"You are not in the seventh grade yet?" Polyaco was surprised. "The way you stopped the boat... We thought you were a professor. After all, wizards like to use various methods to extend their lifespan."

At this moment, Hermione suddenly ran over from the Gryffindor table. She looked very angry.

Krum saw her rushing over here aggressively, and subconsciously took out a lipstick left by the last witch from his pocket, but Hermione ignored him, and Theodore next to Nietzsche took the initiative to give up his seat.

"Those witches in Beauxbatons are not right... very wrong!" She said sharply, "I understand why they covered their heads with scarves at the beginning."

Nietzsche wanted to turn his head to see what was going on, but when his head was halfway turned, Hermione twisted it back with greater force.

"Don't look!"

"Hiss~ my neck..." He covered his neck and said, "Can't look at the witches in Beauxbatons?"

"Yes, you can't look." But Hermione peeked a few times and frowned, saying, "Ron said they are Veela... Well, she's gone, you can see how those people react."

Nietzsche, who got the promise, turned his head and looked at Gryffindor.

He found that many boys turned their heads in the same direction, and some of them couldn't speak, such as Neville, whose face was as red as a monkey's butt and his hands were shaking, which made Lavender and other witches very dissatisfied.

"Are you still eating these French bouillabaisses?" A voice came from the blind spot of the two people's vision.

Nietzsche first saw the long hair dragged to the waist by silver-white, and as his eyes moved upwards, he saw a pair of azure blue eyes and slightly grinning lips. When his eyes collided, he was in a trance.

Not only him, many Slytherin and Durmstrang people were like this.

"Isn't it enough that you took Ravenclaw's and Gryffindor's?" Hermione raised her eyebrows and said angrily, "Why don't you take Hufflepuff's?"

"Hufflepuff's has been eaten a long time ago."

The girl pretended to be innocent, and several Slytherins began to smile and pick up the plates on the table.

No matter how Hermione looked at it, she felt that the other party was provoking her - as if they relied on charm to shift all the attention that Hermione had captured to themselves.

Just as she was entangled with this witch, Nietzsche suddenly roared.

"Stay away from me!" There was anger in his tone.

Just now, he keenly noticed that his thinking began to slow down a bit, not the kind of description of feelings by Sherlock, no... it was worse than that, as if a lot of gravel was poured into a machine.

It was rough and fatal. For Nietzsche, this was undoubtedly an act of aggression.

"What's wrong with me?" The witch didn't seem to realize the seriousness of the matter. She even blinked at Nietzsche deliberately.

He was in a daze, as if there was a voice in his heart saying: 'Hurry, follow your desires. ’

But at the same time, there was another voice saying: 'You are a self-destructive fool, an animal who cannot control your desires...'

His mind was confused by the confusion and criticism, but this sense of chaos made him sober up a little.

"Either get out of my mind..." Nietzsche was indeed affected, but his self-protection mechanism made his uncontrollable behavior more aggressive, "or I tell you to stop."

Nietzsche raised his left hand and made a gesture like pinching an insect with his index finger and thumb.

For a moment, the witch standing opposite Hermione could no longer laugh. She stared in horror, and her throat, which was originally used to sing, could only make a hoarse cough.

"Fleur Delacour, remove your powers! Quick!" Madam Maxime at the guest of honor sensed the magic. She turned her eyes and stood up, roaring regardless of her manners.

Fleur's eyes flickered, and the students around her began to wake up. After noticing what happened in front of them, they quickly pulled Nietzsche aside.

Of course, Nietzsche woke up belatedly as Hermione shook him...

"Sorry, ma'am... I didn't know..." Fleur held onto the chair and rubbed her throat, trying to relieve the pain inside.

"At least you have learned a lesson - not everyone will be confused by your bloodline." Mrs. Maxim walked quickly to her, carrying the dress, "Now, go back to your seat."

Nietzsche was a little stunned by the angry looks around him, and he could only cast a questioning look at Hermione.

But Hermione said, "You've done a great thing."

It’s nothing major, just taking a day off to rest and figure out the upcoming plot.

There is so much foreshadowing in the third grade, there has to be something exciting later on, right (although the fox is somewhat dissatisfied with Nietzsche)

So the arms race begins in fourth grade! The plot starting from the fifth grade will begin to deviate greatly from the original work. After all, in addition to Voldemort, there is also Mo Niang~

On the rise of Emperor Das (wrong)

Chapter 232 Snape’s reminder

Half-blood Veela has a special ability:

They have amazing beauty and the ability to fascinate the opposite sex, and this ability will undoubtedly produce an effect similar to a confusion spell, making people lose control of themselves and become addicted to the beauty of the other person.

Although there are always a few wizards among wizards, what Fleur Delacour didn't expect was that these few would almost kill her.

"This incident tells us a truth - no matter where you go, you must at least learn the basic respect." Hermione was in a great mood when she saw the other party's deflated look, "Don't you see that you have become a joke? ”

It's just that her arrogance was shattered by Nietzsche.

When Fleur was lifted back to her seat by Madame Maxime, the wizards who had been acting like idiots just now were punished, and every one of the witches glared at them angrily and grabbed them with their hands.

"To be honest, they are actually the normal reaction of most people when they see Veela." Krum couldn't help but interjected.

"But we have an abnormal one here." Daphne and several witches glanced at Hermione with envy and said complicatedly.

Madame Maxime returned to the guest of honor seat, her face not looking good, as if she had been rejected. However, Snape and Karkaroff beside Dumbledore were smiling happily.

Nietzsche turned around and looked at the Gryffindor table worriedly. He found that there was a little girl next to Fleur.

She seemed to be about seven or eight years old. Judging from the waist-length silver hair and blue eyes, she should be Furong's sister, who was glaring at him while eating French fish soup from a bowl.

But Nietzsche then had extra energy to think about other people, because Hermione kept stuffing food into his mouth, and his plate was never empty.

The bones and debris on the table were swept away, and the second food - snacks - appeared on the golden plate.

At this time, the two vacant seats at the guest of honor seat were filled, and Nietzsche saw two people just coming in from the hall.

One of them was serious and walked very calmly. He looked at all the students in the auditorium before starting to enjoy the food, while the other smiled and shook hands with every principal and professor.

The two men took their seats, and Principal Dumbledore stood up again.

"Finally...please allow me to introduce you. These two are Barty Crouch, Director of the International Cooperation Department of the Ministry of Magic, and Ludo Bagman, Director of the Sports Department. Now, I announce the Triwizard Tournament. Officially begins~"

Perhaps because everyone was full, the applause in the auditorium was sparse.

Nietzsche also sat up straight with great effort, and looked at the stage with Hermione, but he was more concerned about Barty Crouch, who was perfectly dressed and didn't show any smile at all.

He had heard of the other party's name. When he was the director of the Executive Department, he personally fired Sebastian Moran.

"These two heads of the Ministry of Magic will serve as the judges of the Triwizard Tournament with me, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime, and judge the warriors in the competition."

Whenever Dumbledore introduced the content of the Triwizard Tournament, everyone fell silent at the same time.

Even George and Fred, who were the most noisy, stretched their heads forward and opened their mouths into an 'O' shape, not wanting to miss any news.

Dumbledore waved to the corner of the hall, and then Nietzsche saw Mr. Filch, wearing a cheap tuxedo, holding a wooden box inlaid with gems and walking to the front of the guest of honor.

There was no sacred ceremony. Dumbledore just knocked on the box three times with his wand, and it opened, revealing a wooden goblet inside.

To be honest, it looked like it was made of a piece of wood, very rough, and not even as eye-catching as the wooden box outside, but there was a ball of jumping blue and white flames in the wooden cup.

"Every student who is over 17 years old and has crossed the age limit can put the brown paper with his name in it, and the Goblet of Fire will select three warriors with courage, magical attainments and logic."

Dumbledore paused, looked at the eager eyes below, and warned: "Pay attention, the Goblet of Fire has the ability to grant contracts. Once selected, no matter whether the warrior regrets it or not, he must play the game to the end."

But this last warning has no effect on these students.

George and Fred gathered a group of people together, and no one knew what method they were going to use to put their names in, while on the other side, Warrington and Cedric were already writing their names.

There are roughly two situations: those who want to participate but are not old enough; those who are old enough and are ready to try their luck.

At this time, Karkaroff hurried to the Slytherin table, he held Krum's shoulder, and said gently: "Okay, after you put your names in, go back to the ship to rest..."

He seemed to suddenly remember that his ship was still in the sky, so he stared at Nietzsche blankly.

"Don't put it down!" Polyaco tugged at his sleeve and begged, "We haven't tried the feeling of spending the night in the sky yet..."

"Don't talk nonsense, Polyaco."

"It's okay, Headmaster, we brought flying brooms." Krum seemed to want to try it too, and it seemed that he was not as calm as he seemed.

"Look... I forgot that you are the Quidditch team, so do you want some wine later?" Karkaroff turned his face, and his fatherly and gentle look belonged only to Krum.

Unfortunately, Krum didn't understand his kindness, but just frowned and shook his head.

Karkaroff turned around and led his students out. When he walked through the hall, he just passed by Grindelwald at the end of the guest of honor, but suddenly, he turned his head and stared at him.

"You blocked the door, stupid thing!" A roar came from behind them.

It was Moody, who limped to the middle of Grindelwald and Karkaroff. Then, Nietzsche saw Karkaroff's face turn pale and show fear. At the same time, Krum behind him also looked gloomy.

Karkaroff said nothing and rushed out of Hogwarts as if escaping.

Moody kept staring at his back, with disgust and contemplation on his broken face, and the magic eye glanced at Grindelwald.

On the next Saturday, the morning of Halloween, Nietzsche, who was supposed to sleep in, had just thrown Crooks back under the bed and was about to take a nap, but was pulled out of bed by Snape.

"Professor... What's the matter that is worth you running all the way from the office to the dormitory to wake me up?" He yawned.

"I want you to pay attention to Igor." Snape said suddenly.

Nietzsche didn't understand who he was talking about at first, until the dean explained: "It's the current headmaster of Durmstrang."

"Why?"

"Because he used to be a Death Eater, and later he survived by betraying other Death Eaters... You and I both know that the You-Know-Who is making more and more noise now, and it's hard to guarantee that people like him won't turn against us at the last minute."

The headmaster of Durmstrang is a Death Eater, is there anything shocking about that?

"You should tell Headmaster Dumbledore about this." Nietzsche sat up from the boat, wrapped in a blanket.

"Him? He always plays the trick of 'believing'." Snape walked back and forth in the room impatiently, "But he doesn't know this kind of person. In fact, Igor has been a little nervous recently, and he noticed something was wrong."

There was no respect for Headmaster Dumbledore in his words.

But Nietzsche was more curious about why Snape was so familiar with a headmaster of Durmstrang.