Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Riddle stepped forward, bent down, and scrutinized Dumbledore's young face, his eyes filled with nothing but mockery.

He said in a shrill voice, like a parrot, "I'll know if you did it or not... How interesting, how did he know I hid these things?"

Perhaps still not satisfied, he turned to Nietzsche and asked, "Don't you think this is ridiculous? Just like he believes in 'love,' he believes I'm the thief? No... I won all of this."

Spoils of war—that's the only word Nietzsche could think of to describe it.

Moreover, he had reason to believe that this was the first lesson Riddle was taught upon entering the magical world—might makes right.

"Later, after I entered Hogwarts and greedily absorbed knowledge, I learned that there was a kind of magic called... Legilimency, which can make people know whether they are lying, and can also search a person's memories."

"Do you really believe Dumbledore's bullshit? What 'love' and 'protection' stuff? So-called belief is only based on his ability to be sure that the other person is not lying."

Although Nietzsche knew that Riddle's words were purposeful, they also made some sense.

Professor Dumbledore may have heard about the rumors surrounding Riddle the Younger, which is why he was on guard. Ironically, however, the other party held a grudge about it.

As for mind control...

Occlusive surgery is a good thing.

------

(The corset mentioned by Harry in the original text has a certain historical and political color in Britain, but the anti-corset movement began in the 19th century. The only inference that it can be inferred is that the Woody Orphanage had a strict hierarchy.)

Therefore, the original text's description of the orphanage is very direct—'Growing up in such a place creates a very gloomy and oppressive atmosphere.'

Considering that corsets were quite controversial for women in Europe, and Rowling did not differentiate between them, it is likely that both male and female orphans wore corsets, suggesting that the orphanage was a religious institution.

PS: It's common for religious organizations to run welfare homes and nursing homes, and it was very popular before the 21st century... I'm not sure about now, since the internet has exposed many things about their practices.

Chapter 227 Thus Nietzsche Understood Happiness

Once suspicion takes root, it's like poison that's ingested and can circulate throughout the body via the bloodstream. Besides, Nietzsche's feelings for Dumbledore hadn't reached that point—the two of them couldn't trust each other completely.

But it was worth it for Riddle to open up these memories.

Nietzsche also doubted Tom Riddell; he didn't think the man before him was some kind of prodigal son who had turned back.

"So what are you trying to do?" he asked in a low voice, replying rationally, "To imply that you're worse off than Harry? So you can occupy the moral high ground and justify not helping him?"

If Riddle is trying to play the victim, then he's wasted all these years of his life.

“If it were you…who wouldn’t want to work with someone as smart as you?” Riddle winked at him, smiling innocently. “And if I’m not mistaken, Dumbledore has already introduced you to white magic, hasn’t he?”

Having been in the spotlight throughout his student years, he is indeed adept at understanding people's thoughts.

Riddle then continued, "Based on my mental projection of you, you certainly won't find the 'love' and 'happiness' that Dumbledore speaks of. A friendly reminder: you'd better learn them as soon as possible."

"What do you mean? You think you're the only one?" Nietzsche scoffed.

This was the funniest joke he had ever heard—Voldemort could teach him the Patronus Charm.

“I’m just reminding you, because Dumbledore isn’t the only one watching you.” Riddle gave him a meaningful look and continued, “And you, just leave those purebloods to me.”

He raised his arm, squeezed hard, just like when he was a child and crushed a rabbit, a satisfied smile appearing on his face.

Nietzsche wanted to make a deal with him: Riddle could help him on a magical level, and in return, he had to hand over the purebloods to him.

"You're so eager for revenge?"

"Holmes, I was born from lies, and I live for revenge... Believe me, no one but me will understand your thoughts."

Riddle clapped his hands, and the Wu family orphanage began to collapse, sinking like quicksand. Then, strange high-rise buildings and bridges were built, and the light emanating from the two red suns forced Nietzsche to squint.

In this fantastical city, they can see magical cars flying everywhere, and train tracks stretching endlessly through the air...

But the Muggles on the street looked very tired, coming and going like zombies, their mental state completely opposite to that of the Muggles in the Mirror of Erised.

Moreover, Nietzsche didn't see many wizards walking on the streets.

“I don’t believe in love, but I can show you what you’re afraid of through fear…” Riddle corrected her again, “not the kind of mischievous frights like Boggart’s, but the things that are most worrying in your heart.”

The things I fear most, the things I want to escape most.

After a while, the passersby on the street seemed to notice the two of them. Their eyes never left them, and they gradually moved closer to them.

“Don’t let your subconscious resist me!” Riddle was bumped by a passerby and turned to Nietzsche, shouting, “You madman!”

"You, who pry into other people's minds, have no right to call me crazy."

Riddle pulled Nietzsche along as they ascended the magical cars that passed by and formed a moving staircase.

With each jump, they managed to land perfectly on the roof of a flying car. This was Nietzsche's subconscious, and it was through this method that Riddle slowly implanted his consciousness into Ginny's mind.

The 'moving staircase' had reached its end, and Nietzsche, watching the train pass by below, suddenly felt, for some reason, that he should jump onto it...

It was that inexplicable intuition, as if it were telling him: along this train, you will see the most frightening things.

The train had no tracks and seemed to be heading into space. Nishi gripped the handles on the deck tightly... Wait, why are there handles on the top of the train?

"The Wizarding Council has secured the planet's resources, and we will dedicate ourselves to this great cause for the ideals of all humanity..." He heard the voice playing from inside the train.

The world has entered interstellar civilization, and everything seems wonderful.

Is that really the case?

Nix gripped the handle with all his might, hanging half his body over the edge of the train. Through the glass windows, he saw that the person speaking looked somewhat familiar... Upon closer inspection, wasn't that Warrington?

“What are you afraid of them for?” Riddle roared at the top of his lungs.

“I don’t know!” Nietzsche thought for a moment, then suddenly thought of a possibility.

The train's final destination was a huge space station. He and Riddle got off the train and walked in with the crowd, but something felt off.

Is it because you're afraid your friends will do well?

Along the way, they kept hearing announcements similar to those on a train, and the group of people had an inscrutable fanaticism in their eyes... Nietzsche felt a sense of disgust and nausea.

It's like seeing a few fanatical religious figures in the heart of a metropolis—it creates a strong sense of disconnect.

“Ginny Weasley was afraid Potter would hate her, Lucius Malfoy was afraid Voldemort would go mad and kill everyone,” Riddle said, turning his head to look around. “Only yours is the strangest.”

"Leaving Hermione aside, what would happen if you implanted your own thoughts into it now?"

"Hmph... It's hard to say. Not everyone's subconscious is as active as yours."

Riddle pulled up his hood, trying to avoid looking directly into his subconscious.

The people who got off the train lined up very orderly and entered the space station hall one by one.

The space inside was as large as the Great Hall at Hogwarts. When they stood at the entrance, half of it was transparent, allowing them to see directly into the darkness of outer space and the tiny points of light.

But that wasn't the most terrifying thing. What nearly drove Nietzsche mad was that he saw his own statue...

When he saw the towering, gold statue, dozens of meters high, and the throng of fanatics in wizard robes below, he understood what he feared most most was becoming reality:

He became a god.

"This is what you're afraid of? Seriously?" Riddle stared, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You're afraid of being worshipped?"

“It’s not just worship, but the effects that come with worship…” Nietzsche wished he could blow this place up. “Everything has returned to its origin. After the old purebloods die, new purebloods are born.”

Looking at the group of foolish wizards who only knew how to look at the statue with awe and worship, he felt his stomach was in turmoil.

In his own world, he could do whatever he wanted—the surrounding walls, under his control, were dented by magic, causing everything in sight to crumble and fall apart.

The moment the statue fell, the subconscious minds did not flee, but were crushed to death on the spot.

“Behind fear lies desire; grasp that feeling,” Riddle said, raising an eyebrow as he offered this reminder atop the crumbling space station.

The surroundings began to blur, while the feeling of swaying became even clearer.

'Snapped! '

Nietzsche sat up abruptly in bed, his right cheek burning. He turned his head blankly and saw Hermione standing straight by the bed, her face flushed, her hands behind her back, her eyes unfocused.

The room looked as if it had been swept by a tornado; even the bed beneath him collapsed.

"What's wrong?" She asked before Nietzsche could even open his mouth. "Your magic just surged. Was that Riddle's doing? I knew he was up to no good."

Hermione glared at Riddle fiercely.

The mattress twitched, and Crookshank struggled for a long time before finally crawling out from underneath. It meowed and scratched Nietzsche with its paw.

“I think I understand the meaning of the Guardian Angel Spell now,” Nietzsche said, clutching his hand in pain.

"Really?" Hermione glanced at him with a skeptical look.

Could it be that Voldemort abandoned not only his soul and past, but also his understanding of magic?

Nietzsche stared intently at Hermione, recalling the reminder... Desire meant what he wanted, and the subconscious fear was the root of desire, containing the emotion missing from his Patronus Charm.

In that instant, he understood why he enjoyed provoking and guiding Hermione.

Nietzsche understood. It wasn't because he particularly liked Hermione, nor did he particularly enjoy controlling things. He admired Hermione's rebellious and questioning nature, rather than her blind obedience.

"Expecto Patronum"

That wisp of silvery-white smoke was proof of Nietzsche's success.

"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked softly.

"I thought of you."

Chapter 228 Speculations about the Guardian God

Riddle's method worked well; he could easily distinguish desire from fear, which explains why Riddle held Dumbledore's 'love' in utter contempt.

For him, only death was the most terrifying thing.

But now it's Hermione's turn to be preoccupied with worries all day long.

She was in a daze for the next few days. Lavender would often see her suddenly smile inexplicably, then quickly purse her lips to hide the excitement in her heart. She also answered questions in class more frequently than before.

In subsequent Potions classes, Snape still maintained his aloof demeanor, but since Lupin expressed his remorse for what happened years ago, his desire for revenge against the other houses had lessened considerably.

At least they won't deliberately nitpick and deduct points anymore.

Unless the Gryffindors themselves are foolish enough to jump out.

"Answer me, Longbottom, how did you manage to melt the bottom of the cauldron with flames?" Snape rushed to the back of the classroom after hearing the sound of the flames being extinguished. "Ten points deducted from Gryffindor!"