Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Ever since the investment was finalized, Hermione has been constantly pulled aside by her parents at home to discuss everything from her ideals and career development to even some aspects of her private life... all thanks to Nietzsche!

At least let her prepare mentally beforehand.

"Life is like Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean, you never know what you're gonna get." Nietzsche held his hands tightly against the wall and slowly raised them above his head.

"Stop talking nonsense, you're just lazy! You don't want to take responsibility!" Hermione's voice grew louder and louder.

Mrs. Hudson happened to be coming downstairs with a plate. After hearing Hermione's growl and the two little ones' awkward, frozen poses in the doorway, she gave them an embarrassing smile.

She pretended not to see anything, and simply walked past the girl with her head down.

But halfway up the stairs, Mrs. Hudson's head popped out from the stairwell and said to Nietzsche, "Don't worry, I won't tell your parents, but... I think you should be more responsible than Sherlock."

Wait a minute, this sounds a bit strange.

After a brief standoff, Hermione finally lowered her hands, though she was still glaring at him angrily.

"If there's nothing else, shall I go back to sleep?"

Nietzsche's right hand stealthily reached for the doorknob, but Hermione suddenly grabbed it tightly and dragged him downstairs.

"Go sleep in the car."

"Where?"

“Workshop address.” Hermione’s heart skipped a beat when she grabbed his wrist, but she quickly got used to it. “Even though it’s registered under my father’s name, you, as the actual operator, aren’t going anywhere!”

Mr. Howard was driving. He had a cigar in his mouth and his arm was resting on the car window as he watched the two children slowly walking towards him, pulling and tugging at each other. He was filled with disbelief.

If Harold hadn't said they were also among the inventors of the 'hovering car,' he would never have believed it was two children...

But so far, nothing seems to be different.

“Howard Stark, you can call me uncle if you like.” He looked at Nietzsche with a puzzled expression and said tactfully, “I thought a genius researching such epoch-making technology would be more…more mature…”

“Just call me Nietzsche,” Nietzsche greeted simply. “Actually, Hermione and I are the promoters; the real inventor… he should still be at work.”

It's not the weekend, the Ministry of Magic wouldn't give Arthur a summer vacation, would it?

Despite his doubts, Howard held back, simply because he had signed a mysterious non-disclosure agreement before meeting Hermione.

Having started his career as an arms dealer, he naturally understood these principles.

No matter how curious he is, he will never pry into things he cannot know; he only needs to quietly wait for the secret to surface on its own.

"Alright, anyway, since you're here, I'll show you around."

They arrived in Westminster, near the Thames River, at a large factory that looked very old and was said to have been a shipyard during the Industrial Revolution.

With good ventilation from north to south, the security is excellent, after all, this is the center of British administration.

When Hermione eagerly pulled Nietzsche's sleeve and went inside, she was greeted by a strong smell of mildew and rusty metal. She restrained herself from pulling out her wand for a 'clean-up'.

“Although there is a confidentiality agreement, I still want to ask... if you don’t need to employ workers, how do you produce?” Howard walked up to the second floor and placed his hands on a railing.

“We have our own team; you just need to bring in your pre-configured car for modification,” Nietzsche said.

He looked at the middle-aged man with curiosity. The man did not show any of the expressions a businessman should have, and seemed not to be worried about whether he would suffer a loss.

From the moment they met until he got into the car, Nietzsche observed him the whole time.

Howard's clothes were new or ironed, which showed that he was a serious and capable person; but he didn't stop smoking because there were children in the car, and he didn't care about the cigarette ash on his trouser legs and buttons, which showed that he was very self-centered.

Howard didn't underestimate the two because of their age, which shows that he has always been a low-key person.

“Factories aren’t usually located in Westminster, and the key point is—” Howard held up a finger, “I could buy this place three times over if it were in another industrial area!”

The price was shockingly low, as if it were just a formality to give it away for free.

Moreover, the approval process was extremely fast. A series of documents were processed on the very night the agreement was signed. Howard sometimes wondered if he had been tricked, because it was the first time he had experienced such high efficiency.

“It’s very simple,” Nietzsche shrugged and said loudly, “because I don’t want people who go to work to commute back and forth; their homes are all here.”

That's not wrong, because Diagon Alley isn't far from here either.

"Then you're a really good boss," Howard remarked.

Howard's question also caught Hermione's attention. She first walked around the factory, and then realized a serious problem—this job couldn't be done by just her, Nietzsche, and Lockhart, could it?

That's incredibly inefficient, especially considering they're still in school.

“If we don’t need ordinary people, then who should we ask?” Hermione pulled his shoulder and whispered in his ear.

“Daphne Greengrass has a way; she can recruit a large number of wizards in the name of the family… but the subsequent handover is to be planned by us.” Nietzsche indicated that she didn’t need to worry.

In this way, even if anything changes on Daphne's side, the wizards she hires will work for him and Hermione, not the Greengrass family, because the signed documents are legally binding.

After all, the name is just a gimmick.

Howard stood on the second floor, watching the two of them take things seriously, and a strange expectation suddenly arose in his heart—he hoped that his future son would also be so smart and able to make decisions early on...if he ever did.

Moreover, this was the most mysterious thing he had ever seen: two teenagers were actually the true controllers of a production chain.

“Not far from here is an entertainment district with dance halls and clubs,” Howard explained. “To be honest, this is the first time I’ve seen someone build a factory in a place like this. Aren’t you worried they’ll go crazy?”

Nietzsche knew his uncle would understand him, and he said excitedly, "That's exactly the effect I wanted."

Everything outside is worth exploring for wizards, and they can't wait to use their newly received wages to experience things they've never experienced before.

What Nietzsche wanted was the connection they made with the outside world.

"Ahem... He meant that this would stimulate those people's emotions, thereby motivating them." Hermione cleared her throat and quickly tried to smooth things over.

Seeing that Nietzsche didn't react, she impatiently bumped into him again.

"Ah, yes, that's right, it can be perfected within a year anyway," he stammered.

"Anyway, as long as it works, that's fine." Howard adopted a hands-off attitude. "Anyway, it's a 50/50 split between you and me. How much you earn is up to you."

He seemed to have given up the struggle.

"You're just not going to do anything about it?!" Hermione looked at him in surprise.

“Hey~ My main business is selling arms,” Howard said with dissatisfaction. “Besides, I’ve signed a confidentiality agreement. No matter what, I won’t lose money. At most, I just won’t make any money… This amount of money isn’t even enough for me to throw a party.”

Looking at his languid appearance, the girl seemed to recall something annoying, so she lightly stepped on Nietzsche's foot with the heel of her boot.

They're all so irresponsible!

Chapter 139 Guests from France

It was a hot afternoon.

Hermione, exhausted and not getting out of bed until noon, came downstairs and was getting a chilled Ramune from the refrigerator when she saw a note on the table.

Gazing at the message above, the tingling sensation of bubbles bursting on her tongue made her fall into deep thought...

It read: 'Hemien, we're going to France for a few days' vacation. We were planning to tell you, but we found out you're always busy with work during the summer, so we've cancelled your tickets :)'

Hermione couldn't help but ask herself—was she really the one?

"Paris, France... If you don't want me to be a third wheel, just say so~" Hermione, barefoot on the floor, lazily sat down on the sofa, placed the cool bottle on her forehead, and stared at the chandelier above her head, starting to talk to herself.

But she immediately thought of something more important: what if there was another little Granger?

Um...

After all, Hermione's future was no longer their concern. She wouldn't starve no matter how much trouble she caused, nor was she a typical overworked public servant. And the Grangers weren't the type to have time to spend money.

So given the changes in her parents now, it's highly likely they will.

"Long live!"

≧▽≦ /

She was home alone!

Hermione first surveyed the entire house, and after confirming that her parents had indeed gone on vacation, she immediately let loose.

She first disregarded her mother's ladylike demands, then unbuttoned her shirt without any restraint, exposing her collarbone. She then lay on her side on the sofa with her hair disheveled and turned the TV volume up to the maximum.

The fun time is about to begin~乶

When hungry, I go out to find food; when thirsty, I guzzle cold drinks from the refrigerator; when I don't feel like watching TV, I take a book and sit on the swing in the backyard...

No classes, no dealing with people... Arthur above, Merlin below.

Perhaps because of her connection to the surname Sherlock Holmes, her imagined little holiday was ruthlessly shattered in the afternoon—her admired Headmaster Dumbledore suddenly appeared outside the back gate of the courtyard.

Behind him followed an elderly man with white hair, who was clearly Gellert.

"Headmaster Dumbledore?"

“Excuse me, Miss Granger, I have come to ask you for a favor.” The headmaster held Riddle’s diary in one hand and gripped the gate with the other. “It’s an old friend of mine from France.”

Gellert looked at the girl in front of him with suspicion, his eyes one yellow and one blue.

“Grendel~” He gave himself a pseudonym by spelling his surname 'Grendel' in Old German.

This made Hermione's eyes look even stranger. She understood the logic, but why did Dumbledore's French friend have such a strong German accent?

The atmosphere suddenly turned hellish.

"Could it be that they want to..." Hermione didn't open the door immediately. She got up and spoke to them through the fence.

This was her last act of defiance.

“Grundal doesn’t like being hosted by the Ministry of Magic, so I was wondering if you could host me… Actually, I initially thought of Harry Potter, but they don’t really welcome people like me,” Dumbledore said apologetically.

This is a lie~

In fact, even Gellert Grindelwald couldn't figure out what tricks Albus was playing.

Although he was indeed interested in Nietzsche, it had nothing to do with Hermione Granger in front of him... Wait, could this be the student that Dumbledore truly favored and trusted?

'Goodbye, my little vacation alone...' Hermione said sadly in her heart.

Perhaps sensing the other party's difficulty and reluctance, Dumbledore added, "This is one of your Defense Against the Dark Arts professors this year. Perhaps you can... cough... preview it in advance."

Gellert was kicked, so he nodded in agreement.

Well, this certainly piqued Hermione's interest, and it sounds like there's more than one Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year.

“One of them?” She finally opened the back door of the yard.