Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

More precisely, Nietzsche couldn't allow Lockhart to make a mistake at such a critical juncture.

"So...so all these books of yours are just stories you made up?" Nietzsche shook his head in disappointment and sighed, "I thought you'd at least have some decent magic spells, but I didn't expect you to be just a simple fraud."

“Okay, I admit you’re quite clever, but I do have something to be proud of—the Oblivion Charm; and secondly, those weren’t stories I made up.”

Lockhart was very dissatisfied with the other party's explanation.

“You know, it’s very difficult to perfectly erase some memories with an Obliteration Charm,” Lockhart said slyly. “Especially since I need to visit each and every wizard who has actually banished werewolves and banshees, child.”

However, Nietzsche merely grabbed the Sorting Hat from the table and turned to leave.

The Forgetfulness Charm is a spell that isn't in very high demand.

It is usually used by the Ministry of Magic on Muggles, and the requirements are very precise, because if even a little bit is left over, the person being cursed will become a fool who can't even remember what he ate for breakfast.

Lockhart had clearly misunderstood; he was very sensitive right now, and the slightest disturbance would make him anxious.

“I’m sorry, child, just to be on the safe side, I need to make you forget some things… at least your own assumptions about me.” Lockhart drew his wand with a trembling hand. “After all, you’ll eventually find out that my story was all a lie.”

He had to do it.

Because if Nietzsche were to escape the school today, his reputation would plummet if he told even the slightest thing to the other professors.

“Of course, this won’t affect our cooperation…” Lockhart reassured him.

But Nietzsche was even faster; almost the instant Professor Lockhart drew his wand, a tremendous force gripped his wrist.

Indeed, as he said, Nietzsche had long anticipated that the stories in those books were all lies, but the knowledge within them was not... including ways to deal with werewolves and spells, all of which could be found online.

The only thing he hadn't considered was that Lockhart had used the Oblivion Charm to steal those glorious deeds.

Lockhart's wrist bones creaked as he was squeezed, and his wand fell to the ground as he cried out in pain.

“I’m not interested in your little story, Professor Lockhart.” Nietzsche glanced at him. “You’re right, for the sake of cooperation… I won’t tell anyone else about your affairs, but that doesn’t include the professors finding out on their own.”

“Wh...what do you mean?” Lockhart tried to hook the wand with his toe.

"You don't really think what you did is flawless, do you?" he said helplessly. "The contrast between you and the real you is that there's a gap between the story and the reality. In fact, you could write a biography based on these things."

Lockhart shook his head impatiently and gasped a few times as he controlled his wrist.

"Nobody wants to watch an old American wizard with no taste in clothes, and nobody wants to watch that kind of old witch... Sales are terrible. Wizards just want to see a genius who wanders the world and can solve any problem."

"Without my recommendation, no one would be willing to accept your biography... Nietzsche."

He chuckled awkwardly, as if begging the other person not to expose his most hypocritical side.

This is a choice; Nietzsche could ruin his reputation, but the biggest problem is... that unfinished novel about magical cars, and his own "Thus Spoke Salazar Slytherin."

Looking further ahead—if the novel hadn't sparked the wizard's interest in magical cars, then he would have lost his chance to compete with purebloods... or even Moriarty.

“You know what? If Hermione Granger knew you were this kind of person, she would tell everyone and make sure you never hold your head up in the wizarding world again… But… well, we’re partners, after all,” Nietzsche said with a smile.

The problem is, what will the other professors do?

Lockhart's originally thin and listless face gradually regained its color, and he immediately grasped the backbone in front of him.

"what do you mean?"

“It’s very simple. You have two choices: First, you can get lost now; second, come with us to the secret room… After all, this is your own personal experience, so you’ll definitely be able to write it better,” Nietzsche tempted.

He recalled the professor's wand, tucked it into his waistband, and then handed forward the snoring Sorting Hat.

Lockhart hesitated at this juncture because this opportunity to make a name for himself could also cost him his life... It was the legendary Basilisk, and no one dared to underestimate it.

“We’re in the same boat… right?” He looked at Nietzsche and swallowed.

“That depends on how you do it.” The boy had a special way of dealing with arrogant and narcissistic people, so he continued, “Instant fame, the promotion of the magic car, and those honors... are what really matter to you.”

Nietzsche is like the devil in the Bible who tempts humanity to make a deal.

For Lockhart, this tangible glory is the most crucial—yes, the man who killed the Basilisk, the founder of the Flying Cars...this is far more valuable than the Order of Merlin, Class 3.

And it is real, it truly exists, and he doesn't even need to worry about being exposed one day.

"Then can my safety be guaranteed?"

“Professor, what good would it do me to kill you?” Nietzsche gently placed the Sorting Hat in his hand, then gestured for him to go first. “After all, I used you to protect Hermione.”

Lockhart looked puzzled and walked forward with stiff steps.

Really? Did he protect Hermione?

Nietzsche walked behind him and sighed silently.

Honestly, Quirrell is like that, Lockhart is like that... These unconventional geniuses in Ravenclaw are no less ruthless than the ordinary Slytherins when it comes to achieving success in their own fields.

Fortunately, Nietzsche was still capable of providing achievements.

Chapter 120 The Secret Chamber Expeditionary Force

"You really should have been sorted into Slytherin..."

Nietzsche walked behind Lockhart, using his wand as a knife, and stabbed it into the middle of the other's spine.

"what?"

“How could the Sorting Hat have sorted you into the Slytherin?” Nietzsche repeated carefully, “Ravenclaws like you are always more ruthless than us when it comes to the desire for achievement, and you don’t even think about the consequences.”

what is this.

Aside from Slytherin, can you see the qualities of a true Slytherin anywhere else?

Lockhart knew very little about the Sorting Hat, and could only hold it steadily, praying in his heart that Nietzsche wouldn't change his mind, or that a Split Charm or Explosion Charm would suddenly appear.

“Ah! On this issue, we must mention ‘talent’.” The Sorting Hat suddenly pointed its cap upwards and spoke.

This startled both Lockhart and Nietzsche.

"You were awake a long time ago?" Nietzsche said.

“I just didn’t want to disturb a student and professor’s… um… academic exchange?” The Sorting Hat’s voice was like a buzzing bee. “But at the same time, you can’t deny Gilderoy’s achievements in certain areas.”

Just before Lockhart could break into a smile, it quickly added, "Besides deception... I mean spells, the talent for spells."

Well, its bee-like buzzing is indeed quite annoying.

Lockhart's face fell, and just as he was about to stop as usual to retort, he felt as if he had been electrocuted in the back, and his whole body continued to move forward like a mule being whipped.

Now that his wand has been confiscated, he has no right to defy a vicious and cunning Slytherin...

Lockhart cursed Nietzsche and the Sorting Hat in his mind.

“The forgetting spell,” Nietzsche said softly. “He mentions it almost every time, is that all?”

“That’s it? Huh? You have no idea how much effort I put into this… This is a huge project. You know, the entire Ministry of Magic’s memory erasure department can’t do it as perfectly as I have!” Lockhart said proudly.

Nietzsche didn't know what to say.

In fact, Lockhart chose an unconventional path; he could have shone even brighter in certain areas.

But the Sorting Hat shrugged dismissively, and as the two turned the corner of the petrified corridor, it said, "You see, Ravenclaw students are all a bit neurotic... In terms of ambition, that's what distinguishes them from Slytherins."

“Slytherins know what their goals are and what they’re going to do next; Ravenclaws don’t, they just do whatever comes to mind… In short, Slytherins are more honest.”

Of course, this honesty refers to the area of ​​'self-deception'.

Slytherins rarely deceive themselves; even when they kill someone, they understand why they killed, even for a ridiculous reason.

Nietzsche briefly compared Lockhart and Quirrell and discovered that, as the Sorting Hat suggested, some Ravenclaws share a common trait: 'self-deception'—making choices by deceiving themselves.

For example, Quirinus Quirrell believed he could surpass the Dark Lord, so he went to the Albanian forest.

This is a kind of self-deception, where one is willing to 'take a gamble' even when the hope is almost zero. Lockhart is the same.

"A born master of the Oblivion Spell, isn't he?" the Sorting Hat said slowly.

This startled him.

As if mocking Lockhart for being able to completely deceive himself without using the Oblivion Charm, the meaningful laughter sent a chill down Lockhart's spine, making his hair stand on end.

Meanwhile, the long, drawn-out sound of the sorting cap also attracted the attention of the professors at the entrance of the girls' restroom.

Professor McGonagall looked at Nietzsche, the Sorting Hat, and Lockhart who had arrived with her, and the scene before her was beyond her expectations.

In the original plan, Lockhart should have slunk away and not hindered their next move, but the reality was completely different. Snape looked at Nietzsche beside him and tilted his head slightly.

The old dean disliked Lockhart very much, so an explanation was needed.

“What’s wrong with that?” Nietzsche clapped his hands, lightening the mood slightly. “Shall we continue this pointless argument, or get down to business?”

“My sister is still inside!” Ron squeezed through the professor’s body and pulled Harry along to start exploring.

Myrtle will no longer crawl out of that toilet crying. Her 'bedroom' has been turned upside down by the professors, who even searched the filthy toilet seat.

Everyone lit their wands and began checking each brick on the wall for any traces of magic.

“George and Fred are frantic,” Hermione said, puffing out her cheeks. “Ginny must know something, it must be because I went to see her yesterday… Looks like you were right, she must be that important person.”

She wasn't angry at anyone else, but rather at herself.

Nietzsche understood, but simply gestured for her not to blame herself too much, since at least Ginny was in trouble now, not when everyone had let their guard down.

"At least you can confirm for me that she's being controlled..."

"Look here!" Professor Flitwick exclaimed, his clothes soaked through as he leaned over the sink. "I found it! The Slytherin mark is here... Reveal it now!"

As the Ravenclaw Dean's incantation ended, sparks flew from the innermost faucet in the pool. Everyone crowded around to see that the sparks outlined a slender snake pattern on the side of the brass handle.

Why are there Slytherin symbols in the girls' restroom?

Nietzsche had to criticize the founder's perverse sense of humor.

“Now you have to say a few words in Parsley,” Ron shouted anxiously, “A few words…”

“What can I say?” Harry scratched his head, exasperated. “I don’t know what to say… Oh well, I’ll try.”

Lockhart took a few steps back in alarm, but bumped right into Hermione. Unlike the other readers who were pleasantly surprised, the girl showed her true colors today—impatience and annoyance.

But he didn't dare say anything more. He just glanced at Nietzsche's warning look, then walked back to his original position, stood in a row with the other professors, and held his sorting cap in front of his face.

It seems the basilisk might charge out any second, and the unfortunate one would be the innocent old man.

“Harry Potter, we won’t hold it against you for speaking Parseltongue.” Professor McGonagall placed her hand on the boy’s shoulder, seeing through his inner turmoil. “You did it to save innocent classmates from being killed.”