Chapter 230

"No, no, no, the Holmes family doesn't call it 'retirement'. People like me are just 'on vacation'. For example, my father Sherlock would rather shoot at the wall in the house unless he sees an interesting commission."

But Hermione had already figured out Nietzsche's sophistry and ignored it.

But she was confused by another detail---Nurmengarde. She had read most of the library and knew wizard history by heart. She clearly remembered that it was a wizard prison during the First Wizarding World War.

"Isn't Gellert Grindelwald imprisoned there? Why would you choose to go there..."

"Who do you think Dumbledore's old friend is?" Nietzsche prompted.

"Ah...ah?!" Hermione's eyes widened at once, "Grendel, Grindelwald...is actually a variation of this name? It turns out that Dumbledore is the Beowulf!"

This name stems from the British Saxon mythology. The legendary Grendel is a cruel giant with hard scaly skin and invulnerable to swords and guns, which is exactly the response to the power of Gellert Grindelwald.

The power of the giant Grendel is enough to destroy the whole of Denmark, and even Beowulf can't stop it.

But it is not without weaknesses. In the story, when Beowulf was caught, the tears left by the pain dripped on Grendel's arm, which could cause fatal damage to this invincible giant.

"Maybe Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald with tears back then." Nietzsche teased through her words.

It is not impossible. After all, Grindelwald is an old friend of Principal Dumbledore. Maybe there is the magic of "love" in it.

Nietzsche was writing the test paper when Hermione suddenly stood up from his arms. Because he was looking down, he subconsciously looked at her beautiful chest that was slightly undulating like a mountain.

The arc of her black school robe made her look more like a proud fire dragon, but it was a pity that she had no tail...

To be honest, Nietzsche liked the feeling of being wrapped by the dragon's tail.

"Speaking of fire dragons, I remembered something." He didn't realize that he blurted out his words subconsciously, "It's November now, and I want to have a Christmas that belongs only to the two of us this year."

Hermione raised her forelimbs and pressed his lips with her claws.

"First of all, don't you think you're being rude?" Hermione complained with disdain, picking on the words, "Secondly, did you mention dragons just now?"

"I was actually praising you in my heart, look! I blurted it out, which is enough to prove your charm!" Although Nietzsche cleared his throat and said softly in a child's confession tone, "And of course I won't forget to make a formal invitation."

Praising someone like a dragon... Well, this is indeed Nietzsche's style of describing others, just like the two Sherlock Holmes in his family like to laugh at others as goldfish, Hermione has nothing to say.

She looked down at her body and thought: Judging from her figure and clothes, it can't be Smaug's silly Norwegian ridgeback dragon, right?

Hermione's heart, which had just risen, immediately fell to the bottom of the valley, and her mouth seemed to have drunk a large bag of sour pop candy.

"Wait~" She bit Nietzsche's nose viciously, and then continued, "I said I promised you something, you still have two weeks to prepare something to show me your sincerity."

The door of the office opened, and Professor Slughorn rushed in with a pile of books.

Hermione squeezed out the arm that trapped her, and moved her butt to the left to make some space, while Nietzsche quickly took out a few pieces of parchment filled with potion essays and covered the OWLs test paper, like a student who was secretly reading extracurricular books in class.

"Miss Granger, why are you here?" Slughorn asked hurriedly.

"Ahem...I..." Hermione's mind turned quickly, and she thought of a brilliant idea, "I was going to ask you some questions about potions, but I didn't see you, so I chatted with Mr. Vida for a while."

"What questions?" Slughorn turned the gun again and looked at Nietzsche with a vigilant look.

Nietzsche was silent and scratched his beard. How did he know what potion question Hermione asked? Was it about a Christmas date?

So annoying, could you please stop bothering me here!

"The material of the potion!" Hermione said quickly, "I want to practice making potions in my spare time."

"Oh, Miss Granger is really diligent. It's better to just say it directly." Slughorn said straightforwardly, "I don't recommend giving some smart students help, so what do you want?"

"The eggs of the fire ash snake. I'm preparing some malaria antidote for Madam Pomfrey."

The answer was very fluent. Obviously Hermione had prepared it a long time ago, but she just took this opportunity to achieve her goal---she has completely turned into Nietzsche's shape.

This answer was perfect, so much so that neither Slughorn nor Nietzsche had any doubts.

"This is very simple. First, ignite the magic fire in an area where it will not spread. After burning for a period of time, a kind of earthworm with extremely high temperature will appear in the ashes, which is the fire ash snake." Slughorn explained.

"Thank you, Professor~" Hermione said with a smile.

"By the way, Miss Granger, do you have time to attend my Christmas party..."

However, Hermione did not give Slughorn a chance to invite her. Before the professor could finish speaking, she quickly picked up a few notebooks and left the gorgeously decorated office. This made the professor a little disappointed and he sighed heavily.

But Nietzsche did not have such a good expression. He had a cold face and played with the magic wand with his fingers.

"Are you very free?"

"No!" Slughorn said nervously, "I'm just here to inform you, remember to teach for me this afternoon."

Tsk---

Nietzsche smacked his lips. It was annoying to think that someone like him who had never passed OWLs had to teach students.

Chapter 382: Mobilization before the war

An OWLs test paper was sent from Hogwarts to the Wizarding Examination Authority of the Ministry of Magic.

This is really strange. It is only December now, and the two OWLs exams are six months away, but no Ministry of Magic employee will ignore this special portfolio.

There is only one reason:

It comes from Hogwarts and is signed by Albus Dumbledore.

But what surprised the director of the Wizarding Examination Authority was the candidate's name. After weighing the matter, he picked up the test paper and walked out, through the elevator to the main hall, passed through the golden and brilliant iron door, and knocked on the door of the Minister of Magic.

"Please come in---"

Fudge's desk was filled with various files, and a plate of untouched chocolates was placed on the edge of the table.

"Gadwin Robards, what can I do for you?" The minister hurriedly poured himself a cup of potion and frowned at the busy director of the administration in front of him.

Fudge's figure has become very bloated from sitting for a long time, and he even suffers from coronary heart disease and insomnia... Let's put it this way, if he wants to sleep at night, he must drink several glasses of champagne, red wine, whiskey and sleeping pills in order .

There was a lot of paperwork gathered at him and there was no escaping it, such as the Magic Weapon Expansion Plan and the Herb Growing Circle.

So his frown was not an expression of dissatisfaction with the visitor, but a sign of irritability, which had been worsening since the Ministry of Magic consultant's 'disappearance'.

"I received an OWLs exam file, sir." Gadwin walked to the table in two steps and handed over the file respectfully.

"What's all the fuss about...Dumbledore...it's just a name, he's not the madman who kills people randomly." Fudge said with a cigar in his left hand.

"It's just a matter of name, sir. I'm afraid we have found the former head of S.H.D."

Fudge squinted his eyes slightly and glanced listlessly for a few times, and then through the cocoa-smelling smoke he saw the man who haunted the entire British Muggle authority and most of the wizarding world--Holmes.

The smallest and most wizarding Sherlock Holmes.

As the newly appointed director, Gadwin is very good at observing people's actions. After seeing the minister's casualness at the beginning and his seriousness later, he immediately felt at ease, even though he himself could not confirm this.

"Should we inform Mr. Holmes at CI6 privately first?" he suggested.

"Dumbledore probably has no reason to lie to me." Fudge shook off the ash from his cigarette. After thinking about it for a while, he turned his chair and said to the portrait of Ulric Gamp hanging on the wall, "Let Prime Minister Lockhart help I’ll make an appointment.”

The current Prime Minister is Lockhart, and he is very satisfied. At least he doesn't have to worry about whether the Muggle Prime Minister understands what he says.

------

In the city of Manchester in southern England, a mother and her son stopped on the east bank of the River Irwell.

They were wearing expensive clothes but looked like prisoners who had never had enough to eat. These were the only two remaining members of the Malfoy family.

"Take it and leave here." Narcissa handed over the Hufflepuff gold cup that she took out from Gringotts, and said coldly, "This is your pass to leave the UK, and it is also the request of that adult...leave Here it is.”

Snowflakes falling from the sky fell into the water, speeding up the solidification of the Irwell River.

Narcissa looked at the gray sky. There were dozens of scattered dementors hidden on the top of the clouds. They were all helpers sent by Voldemort to the mother and son.

"What about you?" Draco Malfoy wrapped his coat tightly and put the gold cup into his pocket.

A loud whistle sounded from the port, and it was obvious that this ship would be the only way for him to leave Britain without being detected by the Ministry of Magic.

As long as he leaves England and reaches another continent, he can stay away from everything here: the threat of death, the hostility of Muggles, the anti-gravity cars and motorcycles flying everywhere, and then live a life surrounded by trauma.

"Lord Voldemort needs me." Narcissa clasped her hands together, "It doesn't matter whether you succeed or fail, as long as you are still alive."

Even if Dumbledore really died from the curse, she didn't think the Dark Lord could defeat the power of the entire UK.

This made Draco's heart feel as cold as the Siberian winter, and all the blood in his body seemed to have solidified. It was very difficult to take a step forward.

"No!" Draco's voice became intermittent, like an old radio with no signal, "Let's go together, I can't do it alone... Please, I don't want you to be like dad... Yes! And Professor Snape!"

He seemed to have grasped the backbone and pulled Narcissa's arm.

But Narcissa still didn't waver at all. The terrifying reality was that Snape had betrayed the Dark Lord long ago and devoted his body and mind to Lily's child.

At this time, a mouse ran out of the port's sewer. It was Peter Pettigrew. With the help of the Confusion Charm, he twisted into a human form while running among the Muggles coming and going.

"It's time to go..." Peter Pettigrew said, bowing and nodding.

"You got the thing." Narcissa turned her head and saw the cracked ring on her silver finger.

Her tone became arrogant again, which made Peter, who was not pleasing to both sides, very annoyed. His heart seemed to be pressed by a stone, making him breathless. To be honest, if it weren't for the Dark Lord's order, he didn't want to care about the Malfoy mother and son.

That kind of contemptuous look seemed to say: Let you be responsible is to respect you.

"The ring was given to you by the Dark Lord. It is a family heirloom of the Gaunt family. Sell the things after you get off the ship and change your appearance there." Narcissa's eyes softened only when she faced her family.

"Woo-woo---"

The whistle sounded again at the port, as if urging them, or perhaps celebrating.

"Let's go, kid... it would be bad if the patrolling wizards saw us..." Peter also shouted beside him.

He reached out his hand and tried to pull Draco's sleeve, but just when he touched the wool fabric, he was violently slapped away. He suppressed his anger and just hid aside awkwardly and smiled.

Malfoy and his son were saying their final goodbyes, and no one saw the gloom in the mouse's eyes.

Okay, everyone ignored Peter Pettigrew, and everyone thought he was just a disgusting and shameful mouse, but he didn't think he had done anything wrong - he just wanted to live, even if he was barely alive.

Draco walked onto the deck of the ship carrying the Hufflepuff gold cup and spread his palm sharply.

"Give it to me!" he ordered.

"Master Malfoy, I'm just keeping it for you..." Peter frowned, and the other party's distrust made him very unhappy.

"I said, give it to me! That's what my mother fought for!"

"If you insist."

Peter Pettigrew rolled up his sleeves with a stern face, revealing his alchemist's hand that was shining with silver light. Draco quickly took off the ancient obsidian ring from his index finger and put it on his hand.

At that moment, Draco felt an inexplicable chill.

Maybe the weather was too cold...

Chapter 383 Christmas Eve

"Before this Christmas, I think I need to announce something..."

At night, Dumbledore rarely appeared in the hall except for holidays. His dark purple wizard robe was dotted with white snow, and he looked like he had just rushed back from outside.

That's right, although he is the headmaster of Hogwarts, he rarely appears on weekdays, and Vice Headmaster McGonagall has gotten used to it.

The students below should eat and drink as they should, and only occasionally take the time to raise their heads.

"Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will pay a friendly visit to Hogwarts after Christmas." Dumbledore winked playfully and said loudly, "So, this means that some of you will be exchanged with their students."

This news was so sudden that it took two minutes for the lively Great Hall to gradually return to silence. Nietzsche also saw several boys laughing inexplicably, probably thinking of Fleur.

In fact, he didn't know what Dumbledore was doing, but... just keep listening.

"Don't worry, there will be a lot of places, and students in the fourth grade and below will have a chance. Just think of it as us taking care of those students who didn't experience the Goblet of Fire." Dumbledore said intimately.

"Oh---" "Great!" "Gan!"

Annoyance, happiness and irritability sounded at the same time on the four tables.

The first type of people are senior students who missed this grand event; the second type of people are junior students who just happened to experience this large-scale event; the third type of people are the unlucky ones who missed the Goblet of Fire and just happened to be in the fourth grade.

Who doesn't want to see the French Veela and the German Quidditch... Of course, the former is more important.

Nietzsche looked at both sides and found that Professor Snape had a strange face, and Professor McGonagall was silently looking at the headmaster, Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout were whispering, and it seemed that the other deans didn't know about it.

'Dumbledore's temporary resolution.' Nietzsche made a conclusion in his heart.

Ron below was already crying and shouting about his bad luck: during the Goblet of Fire, he was not old enough, and now he had to miss such a perfect event.

The junior exchanges of the three colleges... Very weird.