Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

In other words, relying solely on their subjective ideas, wizards can hide the things and objects they need to preserve, achieving true deception.

Twelve years ago, Dumbledore wanted to use this magic to protect the Potters—Dumbledore himself became the Secret Keeper because he was the one who least needed others to consider loyalty.

Nietzsche, puzzled, whispered, "Principal Dumbledore is the safest person to keep secrets."

Sirius Black banged his head against the wall in agony, curling his body into a ball. His frantic state made Principal Black sigh with pity.

"Look what the Dementors have done to people..." he said with heartache.

“No, I was the Secret Agent back then. The Death Eaters and Voldemort knew very well that I was the greatest threat, and James believed... that it was a shameful thing not to trust one’s friends,” Dumbledore said.

In other words, the principal can be the custodian of two secrets at the same time, but this 'zero risk' is only temporary.

The Faithful Charm will connect Secret A and Secret B simultaneously because of Dumbledore, the Secret Keeper.

Once Dumbledore dies, the person who knows Secret A will also become the keeper of Secret B. Therefore, the Potters' risk will increase exponentially after Dumbledore's death.

“Wait a minute, if you had become the Secret Agent, you could have just hidden it away back then,” Grindelwald said, his eyes wide.

“But who will deal with Voldemort?” Nietzsche shook his head. “Only Headmaster Dumbledore in the entire wizarding world can stand up to him head-on. He is destined to go to the front lines of the magical war.”

Therefore, the Potters' accident is just a microcosm of the wizarding world.

Everyone rushed to take the blame upon themselves, arrogantly believing they were protecting or pitying Harry Potter.

“You’re not lying. I once believed you would never betray James and Lily, but… I need an explanation from you regarding the Secret Service.” Dumbledore’s eyes flickered, and his tone softened considerably.

He seemed to have seen something.

Nietzsche took the principal's change to heart and frowned a few times.

He suspected that Dumbledore had used some kind of magic to test Sirius again, and this thought made him wary... not specifically targeting the headmaster, but rather the other wizards.

What if one day he just talks to someone and his thoughts are read?

“It’s all my fault… After you all believed I was the Secret Keeper, I convinced James to temporarily replace him with Peter Pettigrew,” Black said, his voice breaking with anguish. “I hate myself!”

He wished he could die in Azkaban.

From Black's perspective, filled with remorse, he believed he was the murderer who killed the Potters.

Amidst the other party's roar, Dumbledore abruptly stood up.

“In a sense, you have indeed succeeded. After all, you fooled Headmaster Dumbledore, and I believe Voldemort also considered you the Secret Agent, if Peter Pettigrew hadn’t leaked the secret,” Nietzsche affirmed.

It must be said that this double-deal was truly brilliant.

If successful, even if Black, who released the news, died, it wouldn't affect the Potters. Unfortunately, a variable appeared.

It's rare to see Gryffindor using their brains!

Dumbledore pulled Nietzsche aside, and in the blink of an eye, the old headmaster's face returned to its calm state.

But he knew the other person wanted to ask about Peter Pettigrew, only Black's mental state was really... sorry, after all, he had been tortured by Dementors in Azkaban for more than ten years, and his mind was full of revenge.

"For so many years, I have been searching for Peter's whereabouts, but apart from the remaining finger, I have had no clue whatsoever," Dumbledore recounted the details of what happened back then.

Moreover, they returned the finger to Peter Pettigrew's family.

"Can the Animagus be seen?" Nietzsche asked.

"Strictly speaking, unless the Animagus himself exposes it, it can be confirmed in advance or identified by the characteristics of the shapeshifter."

“Spot the mouse might just be Peter Pettigrew, missing a finger, and Black just happened to see him at the newspaper office,” Nietzsche said slowly. “I can get Ron a new pet this Christmas.”

However, as far as Blake is concerned, he will still be placed here without any evidence.

Dumbledore glanced back, intending to have Grindelwald keep watch, and also to inquire about Nietzsche's 'helper'.

“He wasn’t lying,” the principal said softly.

“Perhaps, you bunch of megalomaniacs…” Nietzsche didn’t focus his attention on Sirius Black.

Everything proceeded smoothly. On this Sunday, Nietzsche had just arrived at the auditorium when he heard a burst of noise and flying ribbons. Without a doubt, it must be Gilderoy Lockhart returning.

He stood on the platform where the Sorting Hat had once been placed, throwing various books down below.

Two suitcases lay at his feet, the ones he had once used to clean out his office in preparation for his early departure. Now they were filled with all sorts of Muggle handicrafts and snacks.

“Everyone gets a gift, don’t rush!” Lockhart, dressed in an expensive sky-blue handmade robe, said, “A Ravenclaw freshman, right? Study hard, maybe you and I will be colleagues in the future…”

Nietzsche suddenly regretted inviting him to the school.

At that moment, Hermione yawned and followed several witches out of the Gryffindor Tower.

Lockhart spotted the two people at the door at a glance, and like a princess, she picked up her robe and ran excitedly toward them, which startled Hermione so much that she fell asleep immediately.

"Why are you back?!" She pulled out her wand, causing the enthusiastic Lockhart to stop halfway.

"For a great mission." He rubbed his hands together, ignoring the rudeness. "Don't be like that. I've at least ensured you and Nietzsche's financial security for the rest of your lives. You should at least put on a show, right?"

In Lockhart's eyes, Hermione is a walking treasure trove.

Put a piece of gold in it, and the next day it will be returned to him many times over.

That's true. After all, without him, there would have been no investment from Howard, and Nietzsche wouldn't have been able to sell his novels...

"I'm already quite content just knowing that Quirinus Quirrell won't be nagging me about his spell research. The only downside is that there aren't any reporters everywhere at Hogwarts." Lockhart then put his arm around Nietzsche, who was standing next to him, without waiting for a reply.

"Looks like you're adapting quite well out there." He forcefully pried the other person's fingers apart.

"Not bad? I'm a celebrity in space exploration and clean energy now!"

Lockhart was even more confident than before, pulling the two of them to sit at the Ravenclaw table, signing autographs for the hawks and talking to them.

In fact, thanks to Nietzsche's meddling, he is now a true celebrity in the wizarding world—it's said that Muggle studies even drew inspiration from his novels about his travels in the Muggle world, which played a significant role in its development.

Therefore, there are more young wizards reading his works than before.

"Take it easy, or you might die of food poisoning the day after you return to school." Hermione glanced at Professor Snape, who turned and left.

She had a terrible temper, Lockhart shrank back, wondering what he had done to offend her.

"Are you jealous?"

Hermione slammed the knife down on the table and said fiercely, "Yeah, even I'm jealous of my own talent!"

Hearing these nonsensical words, Lockhart shut his mouth. He decided to just enjoy his breakfast without Quirinus.

"Why are you jealous of yourself? Aren't you being a little too narcissistic?" Nietzsche asked cautiously.

"It's just that I wanted to be lazy and canceled these classes without permission." Hermione pulled a crumpled notice from her pocket and slammed it heavily on the table. "How funny, I didn't know I had this side to me!"

The notice clearly stated that Hermione's elective courses had been reduced from a full six to the normal three.

Nietzsche pursed her lips, suppressing a smile, and hooked Crookshank's chin with her finger—clearly Granger's handiwork, she had drunk the shrinking potion he gave her, disguising herself as fourteen-year-old Hermione to cancel those elective courses.

"Maybe you're just too tired, so tired that you've forgotten about it?" he said.

"Maybe..." Hermione sighed, saying disappointedly.

That's not possible. Perhaps she already had regrets, which led to the time-changer creating a clone of herself to do it in her place.

However, this is not necessarily a bad thing. On the bright side, at least she can now free up time to study spells and potions, and strive to surpass Nietzsche before the final exams.

"I'll show you something." Lockhart, displeased with her negative attitude, waved his wand, and something flew out of the suitcase.

It was a flat, square thing that looked like a miniature projector, except the lens was above the set-top box, and there were several stone test tubes in another slot.

He then lit his wand, allowing Nietzsche and Hermione to see tiny magical runes etched on the test tube.

"I don't really connect with Muggle movies, so I've always thought how great it would be if everyone in the theater could participate...excluding horror movies, I hate that kind of thing."

Considering Lockhart's strengths, Nietzsche could tell that this was a memory playback device.

Those stone test tubes were probably used to replace the 'film'.

"So you came here just to show off Professor Quirrell's inventions?" Hermione said irritably.

“Hey! Although Quirinas did most of the work, I was the one who came up with the ideas!” Lockhart’s stubbornness kicked in. “At least Star Trek and Ghost in the Shell fans should thank me.”

Hermione glanced at the excited Ravenclaws; she hadn't expected Hawk to have such a homebody side.

No, we can't think like that! She almost got into Ravenclaw back then!

(Nietzsche: Staying at home reading books counts as being a recluse, a bookworm)

The increasingly curious wizards gathered around, and Nietzsche quickly pulled Lohatra away, leaving behind two large chests full of gifts and a heartbroken Hermione.

"So what does Headmaster Dumbledore need me to do?" Lockhart tugged at his clothes, pretending to be serious. "I'm very busy. If it's about clearing up one's memories, the Headmaster can handle that himself."

“You’re even better,” Nietzsche complimented.

“Hmm…you’re right.” A smile immediately spread across his face. “So who is it that’s asking me to erase their memories this time? Let me guess, is it some powerful wizard like Nicolas Flamel, or some high-ranking official?”

Sirius Black.

Lockhart's smile froze, and he stood there as if time had been stopped, his face turning deathly pale. Then he picked up his things and walked back.

However, Nietzsche knew he would do this, so he raised his wand, lifted his robe, and continued walking forward.

"That murderer?!" Lockhart threw a tantrum, tearing at his clothes while constantly scanning the corner for anyone. "You didn't mention this in your letter. I'm a celebrity, don't try to drag me into this mess!"

As soon as a student passed by, he immediately quieted down, put on a smile, and greeted them.

“I told you you wouldn’t come back,” Nietzsche said calmly.

"No, no, no, Black is wanted by Muggles too, you know! That guy is a ruthless killer; it took more than twenty wizards from the Magical Law Investigation Team to subdue him back then!!"

Lockhart was still as timid as ever, and he would panic as soon as he caught something beyond his control.

How is this possible?

Nietzsche needs to train him properly, at least to develop the composure of Quirinas Quiró...

Or should Gilderoy Lockhart also try to die once?

"Including Headmaster Dumbledore, there are three people here who can deal with him. What are you afraid of... I need a room where Sirius Black is being held." Nietzsche waved his hand and threw him inside.

Lockhart beat his chest in frustration. He was so stupid, so very stupid. He should have known what kind of guy Nietzsche Holmes was.

However, Grindelwald was the only one in the room. His skeletal figure and heterochromatic eyes made him look less like a prison guard and more like... an accomplice in the dimly lit room.

“Nietzsche? Nietzsche!” He clutched the memory playback device and backed away repeatedly.

Grindelwald, hunched over, fiddled with his wand, circling around him. Lockhart felt as if he were naked, completely exposed to the old professor.