Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

“Perhaps Dumbledore has a way…” Lockhart raised his hand, looking dejected, and offered his suggestion to the group.

"Would the Oblivion Curse work?" Nietzsche said. "First, we need to find a way to sever his relationship with Ginny Weasley, then we need to find a way to destroy it."

“This… I’ll try. I hope the spell will break on its own because the Dark Lord has forgotten about it. This kind of magic that drains the life of others is very unusual; we can’t see any trace of the magic.”

“Then erase his memory.” Nietzsche looked at Voldemort and began to grin maliciously.

"But I've never used it on one of these...strange objects, because the Oblivion Charm is a very complex spell. If something goes wrong, the forgotten person may suffer from amnesia, memory loss, or even..."

But what does this have to do with them?

Hermione stretched, waved her wand, and turned some pebbles into a round table, placing the diary containing Voldemort's soul and memories on it.

“We wouldn’t care if the Dark Lord, who wouldn’t even let anyone mention his name, became an Alzheimer’s patient,” she said.

Riddle was pressed down by magic, and could only groan weakly.

Wait a minute... what are they going to do to his memories?!

Chapter 124 Being Manipulated

To destroy an unknown but powerful dark magic artifact, you can use the Gryffindor sword that Harry Potter was carrying.

But Nietzsche wanted to keep the diary as evidence.

“If Voldemort tore his own soul apart and preserved his memories of his student days in this diary, how did it end up in Ginny’s hands?” Nietzsche rested his elbow on his wand.

The young Voldemort kept his mouth tightly shut, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling of the secret chamber.

All he can do now is quietly wait for time to pass... wait for Ginny's life force to completely fade away.

Meanwhile, Lockhart was overwhelmed with work. As he delved into Voldemort's soul, the diary that served as his brain began to display all sorts of 'illusions'—false memories used to deceive the intruder.

“I need your help,” the professor said to them.

"How do we do it?" Nietzsche carefully avoided Voldemort's eyes.

"Ahem... just to cause some fluctuation in his mental state, to prevent him from continuing to experience retrospective memories."

Lockhart glanced at Professor Flitwick standing beside him. He had already been very tactful; after all, a magical genius like him, who hoped for world peace, wouldn't know those unforgivable curses.

It's hard to imagine that such words came from a seemingly harmless smile.

Nietzsche was willing to do so, seeing it as a rare opportunity to torment Voldemort.

"Crush the Heart---" He gripped the wand in reverse, looking at Voldemort's handsome face, but his mind was filled with thoughts of what he had suffered in the Forbidden Forest last year.

Revenge is the best fertilizer for the Unforgivable Curse.

The white lightsaber flashed red again. The Cruciatus Curse was not weakened by the fact that the core of the staff was made of unicorn hair. When the lightsaber, which was plunged into Voldemort's abdomen, turned into a scarlet blood light, even Hermione felt a sense of threat.

She couldn't imagine how much disgust for Voldemort was contained in Nietzsche's calm chanting.

The instant Voldemort's limbs began to twitch, Hermione's memory was pulled back to her days recovering at St. Mungo's Hospital...

“That’s it…keep it.” Lockhart raised his wand and pointed it at the old diary.

Now Flitwick and Hermione could see several silvery-white, spiderweb-like threads beginning to form between the tip of his staff and the book.

Lockhart carefully extracted the lines, then cut off a section of them. Combined with Voldemort's slight twitching, it looked as if they were conducting some unknown experiment in a secret chamber.

Lockhart stared intently at the silver thread, sweat trickling down his dust-covered face.

Finally, Voldemort's body stopped flickering.

This also means that magic and vitality have stopped growing.

"It worked?" Hermione turned her head away, refusing to look at the pitiful Voldemort.

“Of course! I told you I’m a master of the Oblivion Charm… Guess what, I made Mr. Riddle forget some details of the spell. You know, this kind of complex dark magic has to be constantly in your mind.”

Lockhart wiped his face haphazardly with his sleeve, his face damp with sweat.

He couldn't make Voldemort forget the whole thing, forget the entire spell, but he could alter some details of the spell within those memories when Voldemort was at his weakest.

In the entire magical ritual, one wrong step can lead to a series of wrong steps.

Fortunately, Voldemort had attached his student memories to the character, so as long as the character had a complete personality, Lockhart could manipulate them.

“I’ll go upstairs and check on Ginny.” Professor Flitwick breathed a sigh of relief, picked up the wand that didn’t belong to Voldemort, and turned to leave. “If anything happens, come to Minerva’s office to find us.”

Now, this young Voldemort is forever frozen at the moment before his resurrection... Hmm, history always repeats itself.

“Tell me, Tom Riddle,” Nietzsche said calmly, straightening his jaw. “A vessel for a soul, passing through the Malfoy family, into the hands of a girl… How about that story?”

"That's not my name. Salazar's name is in my blood, passed down to me through his daughters!" Voldemort growled.

For Voldemort, nothing could be more unfortunate or humiliating than a descendant of Salazar Slytherin being defeated by a few Mudbloods and a house-elf.

Perhaps having seen reality clearly, he began to stare blankly.

Often, one never expects that a fragment of memory will give them the opportunity to be resurrected, but also cause them to fail.

“Nietzsche…Holmes, ha~” Voldemort chuckled self-deprecatingly. “What makes you think you can catch them red-handed? In fact, it was I who made the Son of Abraxas do it.”

Abraxas was Lucius's father.

Dobby, standing nearby, trembled with nervousness upon hearing this. He had indeed heard about the secret room plot months before the start of the school year.

“Lucius thought I was the key to the secret chamber. Of course... he wasn’t even born when I was sixteen, so he didn’t know any of this. All he knew was that I could make sure the secret chamber could be opened.”

"As for the method, who knows how he did it?"

Hermione's mood plummeted.

If that's the case, then Malfoy could easily have evaded capture by shouting "I was a victim too" like he did at the end of the First Magical War, since they were indeed the ones who were deceived.

If it weren't for Arthur Weasley's recordings, Lucius wouldn't have been in such a hurry to clear away the evidence, and naturally wouldn't have dug up the long-preserved diary.

That's how it is—Lucius was unaware that the diary was Voldemort's vessel, and was manipulated by him from beginning to end.

"What role does Draco Malfoy play in all of this?" Nietzsche continued, gripping his wand tightly.

"The watcher? The whistleblower? The first witness to discover Weasley was the murderer in the locked room?" Voldemort laughed. "Perhaps he had already left with the girl when he saw several professors get involved."

Even if they knew the Malfoys' motives, would the Ministry of Magic still believe a murderer who killed Myrtle more than fifty years ago?

Obviously not. Even if Nietzsche had Voldemort identify the other person in front of Fudge, it wouldn't make a difference, because the Ministry of Magic needs the Malfoy family's support, and because Voldemort and the pure-bloods are ultimately not of one mind...

"I've waited nearly half a century for this opportunity, and you mudbloods have nothing to complain about!" Voldemort screamed.

"Because you are not as important as you think."

Nietzsche, his face grim, used his lightsaber to carve a line in the ground, slicing Voldemort in two from bottom to top. Voldemort's body, which had been writhing due to the Cruciatus Curse, began to disintegrate.

He then reached out and summoned the diary back, gesturing for Hermione and Lockhart to go up first, as he intended to give some further instructions.

“Sir, is there anything else I can do for you?” The house-elf looked at him with almost admiration.

“Help me scrape off the basilisk’s scales.” Nietzsche rummaged in his pocket for a while, then pulled out a small black bag and continued, “And put its eyes in here, remember to close them.”

"No problem, sir!"

Dobby patted his chest and assured him.

Nietzsche clutched his diary, pondering some unspoken schemes: such as having Gilderoy Lockhart alter Riddle's thought process, and having the latter correct Malfoy in the manner of an ordinary magical object.

After all, it's quite reasonable for a wizard's treasure to have some kind of bondage ability, isn't it?

As Nietzsche walked down the pipe, using the levitation spell to lift himself up, he couldn't help but think about filling in the entrance to the secret chamber.

But he immediately shook his head and rejected the idea—he always felt it would be useful in the future.

When he appeared by the sink in the girls' restroom, the first person he saw was Hermione Granger.

"Where's Lockhart?" He frowned, looking around. "He probably ran away again."

"He's busy telling the other students about his 'heroic' deeds." Hermione rolled her eyes, took out her wand, and tapped his clothes a few times. "Spotless... just a little musty."

"Where do we go now?"

"Let's go, I heard Weasley's parents are in Professor McGonagall's office."

Hermione walked to the door of the girls' restroom, then suddenly stopped and turned to look at Nietzsche.

He had never seen her so tired, as if she hadn't slept all night and was listless. In his memory, Hermione had always been a very resilient person.

"Promise me you won't use the Unforgivable Curse carelessly." She knew how Nietzsche had learned it, so she didn't say it aloud.

If that's the case, Hermione was the one who taught him the Cruciatus Curse.

Since you already know it, she won't give you any useless lectures like "it's bad to use it too much" or "it's forbidden magic," so... just use it sparingly, at least don't use it in front of her.

Nietzsche opened his mouth and remained silent for a long time before nodding.

"As a last resort?"

"As a last resort."

Chapter 125 The Conflict Regarding Voldemort

The two little ones pushed open the door and saw that the office was packed with people:

Harry leaned silently against the fireplace, a silver sword still in his hand, his robes covered in dust and basilisk blood; while Headmaster Dumbledore stood beside him with a smile, listening to his story.

Professor McGonagall helped Mrs. Weasley, who was covering her face and crying, and then saw Mr. Weasley pacing back and forth anxiously.

Of course, Ginny woke up too. She was clutching her chest, tears streaming down her face like broken pearls, crying because she was worried about being fired.

"Thank you so much... really." Arthur immediately went to greet them as soon as the door opened.

“I’ve already heard about what happened from Harry. What interests me is how Voldemort bewitched Ginny. As far as I know, he doesn’t even know which sewer he’s in right now.”

Headmaster Dumbledore added two new chairs to the room.

Upon hearing this, Nietzsche promptly placed his diary on the table. When the headmaster uttered the name, the Weasleys both gasped, as if the name were some kind of taboo word.

"Based on our 'testing' and Lockhart's assessment, this contains Voldemort's soul, as well as his... memories from before he was sixteen."

Dumbledore lowered his head, used his wand to lift the cover, and stared intently at the blank pages through the exposed bridge of his nose.

As the greatest wizard of our time, Dumbledore quickly realized something was amiss. After a moment of contemplation, he suddenly understood, much to the bewilderment of Professor McGonagall.