Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

“Dear wizard,” he said, leaning back on the sofa armrest, “was this perhaps a bit too offensive?”

"Moran~" Moriarty cleared his throat, stood up, took a blanket, and covered Nietzsche's shoulders. "Mind your manners. We are guests now... Be careful not to catch a cold, child."

"Excuse me, sir." Moran glanced at Quirrell by the window and obediently put down his weapon.

uninvited guest.

Wait a minute, Nietzsche felt that he was also a guest in this room.

He wasn't surprised by Moriarty's arrival, after all, Moriarty had been paying attention to him from the beginning. However, he was quite unsure about the other man's intentions. Nietzsche held the wool blanket on his shoulder, hiding his emotions.

"The cutting-edge weapons of the future are the ones I got the Prime Minister to invest in," Moriarty explained to the boy considerately.

“Hmph...profits from war?” Nietzsche said, turning his head to look behind him.

Kechiro simply nodded quietly, helped him sit on the sofa, snapped his fingers to clean up the stains on the floor, and then replaced the whiskey in the pot with black tea.

The whole situation is quite intriguing: Nietzsche and Moriarty sit facing each other, while Moran and Quirrell stand opposite each other to the side.

"I don't think I can get Professor Moriarty, who just finished his lecture tour, to make a special trip for me," Nietzsche thought to himself, various speculations arising in his mind.

What is Hermione Granger's situation?

Was the purpose of their visit to seek cooperation, or to warn Malfoy about something?

The only certainty is that Moriarty didn't come to Quirrell. Someone as arrogant as him would never resort to such underhanded tactics to win over Quirrell after he rejected him.

“I only need an attitude.” Moriarty took a sip of tea to moisten his throat before saying, “Regarding the relationship between wizards and Muggles...you know, I’ve never liked wizards; they’re no different from goldfish.”

Nietzsche rolled his eyes inwardly.

What goldfish? Moriarty simply felt that some wizards looked down on Muggles, which was tantamount to looking down on himself. That extraordinary arrogance was deeply ingrained in all his actions.

Just like how Sherlock Holmes had been in his way for so long, he never considered killing him, simply because of that special respect.

“If you’re referring to some former Death Eater, then I don’t care,” Nietzsche said wearily, sinking into the sofa.

Perhaps Moriarty was pleased with this answer, because he laughed a few times.

“Do you know why I admire you more than Sherlock?” Moriarty said. “You understand meaningful sacrifices, instead of staring at rules and regulations all day long…cannot do this, cannot do that.”

Nietzsche merely nodded perfunctorily, then crossed his legs without any decorum.

"But I would at least not assassinate an innocent Supreme Court judge to exacerbate the conflict."

“Wrong!” Moriarty said righteously, “It’s not that they’re innocent. In many worlds structured by power, you don’t see those people’s rituals… They impregnate a teenage girl and claim it’s a miracle.”

Although Nietzsche appeared listless, he was inwardly wavering.

That rift stemmed from his incomprehension of the world, because he wasn't as persistent in seeking the truth as Sherlock. In Moriarty's words, everything seemed like nothing more than two dogs fighting over meat at the door.

Nietzsche even felt for a moment that some people would be better off dead.

How do I know if you're lying...?

“Then you can ask your father, after all, the Templar Order entrusted him with this task before.” Moriarty forced a kind smile. “Even if not for yourself, you should think about it for your friends, right?”

Nietzsche glanced at the oddly shaped gun in Moran's hand and muttered to himself.

This is enough to demonstrate the British government's attitude toward the war, and all Moriarty needs is his attitude... his attitude toward those wizards. To put it more simply, the professor wants him to have a clear stance.

Is he a Muggle or a wizard?

Judging from Moriarty's attitude alone, Nietzsche had no reason to deliberately go against him; after all, who doesn't love to see the old world drenched in blood?

"Sir, the opera is about to begin," Moran said softly, bending down.

As the professor got up to leave for lunch, Moran placed the gun on the table.

“Keep it, consider it my Christmas present.” Moriarty put on his black top hat, while Moran covered his back.

The Muggle Protection Act explicitly states that wizards are not allowed to use magic in front of Muggles, nor can they modify it without permission. This precious "gift" is the Muggles' preparation for war.

At the same time, it was also a unilateral breach of the Muggle Protection Act by Muggles.

"Is this your masterpiece?" Nietzsche asked, watching it being packed into a box.

“It’s not just me, it’s all about those machines!” Quirrell said excitedly. “They can produce countless models overnight… Fortunately, Muggles don’t have magic, so without my magic, they’re just toys.”

Nietzsche, however, had a different feeling.

What kind of sparks will fly when mass-produced models in industrialization are handled by wizards?

He could finally understand Moriarty's motivation a little: a larger and more uncontrollable future, where even a half-finished product was enough to upgrade the entire police force's equipment and even affect certain regulations.

But Nietzsche also overlooked the darkest possibility—a more bloody and one-sided war.

Chapter 109 Rita Who Only Wants Big News

Even during the Christmas holidays, wizards still gather in the filthy Leaky Cauldron.

Hannah directed the rag to wipe away the remaining foam residue on the wooden table and the broom to sweep away the ice and snow that had been brought in through the door. At that moment, she suddenly noticed a figure that seemed somewhat out of place among the people around her.

The woman was tidying up her golden wavy hair, glancing at the doorway every now and then.

“Miss, would you like something to drink?” Hannah asked her.

"A sherry, on the rocks." The woman elegantly adjusted her jeweled glasses, then suddenly changed her mind, "And a butterbeer, too..."

Hannah had never seen such a socialite-like woman at the Leaky Cauldron. Most wealthy people like her would go to the teahouses in Hogsmeade instead of enduring the noisy wizards in Diagon Alley as they left work.

But Hannah soon found out who she was waiting for.

Nietzsche, who had come from Charing Cross Road, quickly found the agreed-upon seat in the tavern.

“Come here… Mr. Holmes, quite a few publishers have their eyes on your biography.” Rita gave Nietzsche a shrewd look, then said, “But I’m curious how you suddenly came up with the idea of ​​the founder of Slytherin.”

This is certainly important, because Salazar Slytherin is practically the founding father of dark wizards in the wizarding world.

Few people want to get involved in such bad luck, let alone something involving Slytherin... those graduating vipers, nobody knows what they'll become, and if they get targeted, they're doomed.

“Ms. Skeeter, I need everyone to know that the founder of Slytherin was not the despicable Herpo,” Nietzsche said calmly.

As he received the hot butterbeer, he noticed Hannah Abbott acting as a waitress, and was somewhat surprised.

"You mean the fact of dark wizards?" Rita pulled a quill from her pocket and started writing in her notebook. "Sorry... after all, some things, even many Slytherins themselves believe..."

But Rita held the notebook upright, so Nietzsche could only see the brownish-brown cover.

The other party seemed to be simply taking notes. As someone who worked in publishing, they were very sharp and incisive in their questions, which saved Nietzsche a lot of pleasantries.

"What facts?" Nietzsche asked rhetorically.

“Well…” Rita glanced at him cautiously a few times, and only continued after finding no sign of anger, “It’s about dark wizards, insidious, cunning and stuff like that. It seems you’re in a hurry to whitewash Slytherin.”

The adjectives she mentioned were the wizarding world's first impression of Slytherin.

Nietzsche, however, gave her a completely different feeling, as if he loathed the former Slytherin.

"Whitewashing? Sorry, I've never thought of that. I only care about wizards who don't need whitewashing." Nietzsche denied her point of view.

The quill pen scribbled back and forth on the paper about the 'Chamber of Secrets,' 'Slytherin Heir,' and 'Dumbledore,' and now a new name has been added.

Rita's quill pen suddenly stopped moving. Then she closed the notebook with one hand and began to frantically comb her curly hair with her fingers, which were painted with bright red nail polish.

Finally, she brought the topic back to books.

"How about Flourish and Blotts?" Rita's tone shifted, and she became a merchant again. "Actually... biographies should be published in academic journals first, but I personally think only bookstores in Diagon Alley would accept them."

"Is it because of Lockhart's recommendation?" Nietzsche pressed.

"No, it has nothing to do with him, it's just... from an academic point of view, you'll be cursed to death by those old guys who study the history of magic."

Of course, Nietzsche portrayed Salazar Slytherin as an idealist who wanted to pass on his 'light' to other wizards. How could that be acceptable? It doesn't fit their 'study' of Salazar.

Even though Nietzsche wrote Professor Bins's name on the cover, it was still useless.

What kind of voice can an old, decrepit ghost who can only roam Hogwarts have?

“But the main problem now is…” Rita took a sip of sherry, savoring the sweet and sour taste of the grapes in her mouth, while nervously rubbing her hands together.

How could Nietzsche not understand what this was about?

"Don't worry about the money, just name your price."

"Five hundred gold galleons~"

"Pfft...cough cough!"

Nietzsche choked on the butterbeer for a long time because of her wide-open mouth, and her nose was covered with some yellow foam.

Given Galleons' purchasing power in the wizarding world, this is enough for an ordinary wizard to use for a year. After all, wizards often don't need to replace their things more than a few times a year, and they don't have to worry about food shortages.

The thing wizards don't need to worry about the least is food; they have a million ways to accelerate the growth of plants and animals.

“I’m not just talking about producing the finished book, but also about promotion…and where it’s placed on shelves…” Rita clutched her chest and sighed, “It’s not just about writing it; there’s a lot more to it than that.”

She's short on money lately and can't find anything worth selling well, otherwise she wouldn't bother with such things.

Rita Skeeter only relaxed after Nietzsche gritted his teeth and agreed. She was constantly worried that he would give up because of the price, after all, he was just a student.

Dreams... you can't put food on the table!

But how could Nietzsche possibly get five hundred Galleons?

Ask Watson? Forget it, he's about to marry Mary, and three thousand pounds is no small sum.

Should he run to Moriarty and say, "I have a great idea"? If Sherlock finds out, he'll be furious. He's gone to his father's archenemy and gotten on the other's bandwagon... It just doesn't seem like a good idea.

As for Sherlock, Nietzsche didn't think that someone who idled away his days and went to underground boxing rings to earn extra money could accumulate much wealth.

“That’s great, I’ll let you know as soon as I have any news.” Rita stood up and used her wand to wipe the dust off her clothes. “I hope we can go to the Hogsmeade tavern next year.”

She finally didn't have to endure it anymore.

This place was as filthy as the Pighead Bar. Rita had already lost all her patience just sitting there, and her behavior only annoyed Hannah more.

If Nietzsche hadn't been a Muggle wizard, she wouldn't have wanted to come to the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley.

"By the way, Hannah, did she pay?" Nietzsche's heart tightened as he looked at the table with only two wine glasses on it.

“Thirteen silver dollars and five nats in total.” The girl with two ponytails shook her head, then whispered a reminder, “Don’t associate with these shady people. My dad always says that these kinds of people will do anything for money.”

Nietzsche watched Rita rush into the backyard of the tavern and silently told himself not to be angry.

It's ok.