Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Sherlock agreed, but he was the one who suffered.

Unlike the last time in Belfast, the atmosphere wasn't as tense or rushed. Despite his reluctance, he couldn't help but feel somewhat happy after being pulled into the crowd.

Without worrying about who might die in the next second, and with plenty of time, Nietzsche experienced a wonderful feeling...

"Hold your hands tighter, closer together!" Sherlock stood beside them, impatiently instructing them.

But some people couldn't laugh—Wendel Granger nearly smashed his wine glass after seeing his daughter and Nietzsche; a feeling of annoyance and helplessness filled his heart.

It's not that I dislike him, I'm just simply unhappy.

When Nietzsche noticed Mr. Granger's gaze, he tried to pull his hand away, but Hermione gripped it even tighter. She gave a fake smile and deliberately turned around, turning her back to her parents, so that Nietzsche would bear the pressure.

So he had to endure Hermione's kicks while also putting up with Mr. Granger's warning looks.

pain...

"Are you happy?" Hermione asked abruptly.

"what?"

"Are you happy at this moment, at the Watsons' wedding?"

“My happiness level is second only to yours.” Nietzsche shook his head helplessly and sighed.

This problem, from Sherlock to Watson, from him to Hermione, and finally she brought it back to Nietzsche, who finally understood what it meant to shoot oneself in the foot.

However, Hermione did not show a smug smile. She stepped forward, mustered her courage, and quickly and gently hugged him, as if he had just been bumped in the chest.

"Really?" she said, blushing. "I really hope you can be happy."

His chocolate-colored eyes held a brightness he had never seen before.

Mr. Granger, who was drinking with Watson, darkened his face and pretended to be angry, saying, "He looks quite helpless?!"

“Perhaps Hermione forced him to do it.” Mrs. Granger seemed to be the only reasonable person.

"That was his good fortune!"

The morning after the wedding, Nietzsche's first concern was how to get to school: Shylock was completely drunk, and Watson and Mary were on their honeymoon...

He seemed to have been forgotten, and unsurprisingly, the Grangers eventually took him to King's Cross Station.

Mr. Granger was unusually different today, as if he was sulking. He silently ushered Nietzsche into the passenger seat, leaving his wife and daughter with him.

“Take this…” Nietzsche saw Mrs. Granger stuff several small boxes into Hermione’s pocket.

But Mr. Granger was even more displeased when he saw it.

If he could, Nietzsche would have liked to jump off the train right now, cursing the drunken Shylock in his heart.

“Cheer up, Dad! You just attended a wedding yesterday!” Hermione said nonchalantly.

“Yes, I was happy at first, but I would rather…” Mr. Granger glared at Nietzsche, the meaning of which was self-evident.

Nietzsche was at a disadvantage in terms of his social status, so he could only awkwardly lower his head and pretend to be dozing off, not wanting to invite trouble.

The reason is simple: at yesterday's wedding ball, Hermione, under the guise of 'learning ballroom dancing,' got Sherlock to instruct her... If only it were that simple, she even dragged Nietzsche into it!

Granger! Didn't you see the murderous look in your father's eyes?

But that wasn't all; Nietzsche saw Hermione's sly smile through the mirror.

“You weren’t this angry when I secretly went to Heilbronn and Belfast before…” She was in a great mood, her eyes full of ‘you just wait.’

"What?!" Mr. Granger slammed on the brakes, stopping the car outside the station. "When did you get into these places? Didn't you say you were going out to study magic... Holmes! What else have you been doing behind my back?!"

Nietzsche: Do you think I'm not chaotic enough already?

"It prevented a war between two worlds and delayed the division of Britain and Northern Ireland?" Nietzsche smiled awkwardly.

"Is that all?" Mr. Granger turned his head, his expression serious, and his voice unconsciously rose a little.

This stumped him... What does "only" mean? Can't he express surprise or fear? It's as if this kind of thing is insignificant.

"Uh...isn't that enough?"

Mr. Granger didn't say anything, but stared at him with narrowed eyes for a long time, while he didn't dare to breathe loudly.

“The reason is barely acceptable.” Mr. Granger cleared his throat, then turned around and changed his expression again, looking like a Santa Claus at a theme park comforting children. “Alright, be careful and have fun.”

"We're not playing around!"

"Hmm... okay, then be careful... Ah!" Mr. Granger let out a scream as soon as he opened the trunk.

It was Dobby. He had been hiding in the trunk, and under Mr. Granger's bewildered and shocked gaze, he was struggling to drag out two pieces of luggage before stretching contentedly.

Upon meeting the Grangers, he even gave them a shaky bow.

"No offense intended, but I just slept so comfortably..."

"You, you, you, what are you?"

“My name is Dobby. I’m currently in charge of Mr. Holmes and Miss Granger’s living needs, as well as intelligence gathering. Although Dobby doesn’t know what this job entails, that’s what my job is called.”

It was unsure and tilted its head to look at the two of them.

Dobby excitedly dragged his luggage through the crowd, oblivious to the fact that the Muggles around him didn't notice a house-elf among them. Hermione looked at him and suddenly felt a pang of regret.

"I always feel...we did something wrong..."

Dobby, who is constantly traveling between Hogwarts and the outside world, is unlikely to find peace.

The train headed north, slowly making its way to Hogwarts, where a grand ceremony, the subject of much discussion, awaited them.

Chapter 220 Do you also want to participate?

Rainy days make people feel down, so people always feel that nothing good will happen under such weather. For example, when they got off the carriage and were about to step into Hogwarts, they were attacked by Peeves' water balloon.

The other professors were used to it, except for Professor McGonagall... she would still bring up Dumbledore to scare Peeves.

Afterwards, they waited until the Sorting Hat finished singing its new song, which was different every year, and sorted the freshmen into their respective houses. Then, they couldn't wait to start the banquet.

"It's Professor Glendale!" Theodore greeted Nietzsche warmly, pointing to the main table and exclaiming, "He's still here! That's great! It seems our Defense Against the Dark Arts class won't be too bad from now on."

Not only him, but many students noticed it.

But Grindelwald on stage seemed to have just had a fight with the principal; his face was flushed. Seeing how popular he was, he still forced a smile and waved to the audience.

"I have some good news to share: the Quidditch Academy Cup has been cancelled this year..."

As soon as Grindelwald uttered his words, he was met with a chorus of boos.

Especially the Quidditch team; Nietzsche could see Warrington looking up blankly, his face bulging from the muscles and beef in his mouth, forgetting to chew.

"Oh my god, could things get any worse!" he wailed. "We just barely escaped the Quidditch World Cup, and now that we're back at school, there are no more games."

"Is this good news?" On the Griffindo side, George and Fred were also beating their chests and stamping their feet like baboons.

Nietzsche remembered Harry's invitation; it seemed that something extraordinary had happened in the wizarding world again.

Dumbledore, sitting in the middle of the main seat, glared at Grindelwald, as he always did—he always liked to make things awkward.

“Make sure to say ‘but’…” a Slytherin Quidditch fan muttered nervously.

“But…” Dumbledore caught up with Grindelwald’s gasp and continued, “this year we will be holding the Triwizard Tournament, which hasn’t been held in over a century, and Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be visiting our school.”

That's really good news.

"The Triwizard Tournament was a friendly competition founded by the three major magic schools in Europe, just like our four houses at Hogwarts. However, it was later discontinued because of the excessive number of deaths."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, then started daydreaming, unlike the other professors.

“The death toll?” Nietzsche glanced at the other three tables of students.

It's as if the four colleges would stop at nothing for the College Cup... Well, if the professors hadn't stopped them, they probably really would have done that in the past.

He had no hope for the education he received at Hogwarts.

The others, however, were too excited to care about the students who had died hundreds of years ago; they were simply curious to know what activity could be more thrilling than Quidditch.

Dumbledore continued, "This tournament, in consultation between the Department of International Magical Cooperation and the Department of Magical Sports, will ensure the safety of every student, and the 'warriors' will be chosen on Halloween."

Nietzsche quickly realized something was wrong.

This is quite a rare occurrence—the Ministry of Magic has been allowed to intervene in three magic schools, and the sudden alliance between the three schools seems to be sending some kind of message.

The rain was getting heavier and heavier, and with a clap of thunder, the auditorium doors were suddenly pounded open.

A man walked in, leaning on a cane and wearing a black raincoat. Nietzsche had seen that man's face before; every inch of his skin looked like pieces of tree bark pieced together, even more terrifying than in the photograph.

One eye is blue and the other is black. The black eye is looking at Headmaster Dumbledore, while the blue eye keeps turning around, sizing up the students who pass by.

“Professor Alastor Moody, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for this year.” Dumbledore led with a sparse round of applause.

Moody dipped his finger into the glass of pumpkin juice, stirred it, and smelled it. Then he pulled a bottle of liquor from his pocket, which suited his rugged appearance perfectly.

"Him?!" Daphne stared at him intently, gasping. "Is there anything surprising this year? If he hadn't retired, that kind of thing certainly wouldn't have happened at this year's World Cup..."

Nietzsche couldn't help but move his seat over to her side and whisper, "What exactly happened before the start of the semester?"

Daphne's eyes seemed to convey 'you country bumpkin,' "Die Eaters showed up at this year's Quidditch World Cup final in England and even sent the Dark Lord's mark into the sky."

"Listen, this is definitely not just a simple get-together between three schools. Ever since 'that person' fell, even the most loyal Death Eaters wouldn't openly announce it, unless..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but her undisguised gaze revealed that Voldemort had to return.

Former Aurors return to school as professors, and European magic schools form an alliance... Despite how much fun Dumbledore makes the Triwizard Tournament sound, it's all preparation for the impending war.

The whole of Europe was shrouded in thunderstorms, but the people there were as unaware as students hiding in Hogwarts Castle.

"Because of my involvement in recruiting wizards, I frequently deal with the Ministry of Magic's Inquiry Committee, and Professor Phoebus Penrose is already preparing for the worst-case scenario---"

“I can trust you... right?” Nietzsche gently placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Of...of course…” Daphne didn’t know what he had been through, but she could still sense a threat and warning in his tone, so she stammered.

“I have been preparing for this moment all along. Wizards will integrate into the Muggle community through our network of connections. Beyond that, no matter how much money and honor you want to scheme for, it has nothing to do with me.”

To be honest, he didn't trust Daphne as much as he thought.

Who knows what their true motives are in joining forces with them?

In the past, Nietzsche wouldn't have cared, but after learning some things from Moriarty, he had to re-examine the people around him and be wary of them becoming new purebloods.

Moriarty opened a gap in his head and stuffed it with all sorts of doubts—he doubted Great Britain's stance and the Ministry of Magic's objectives.