Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

“Perhaps I misjudged her; she still can’t handle such a big story,” Nietzsche chimed in.

Every word they spoke echoed in Rita Skeeter's ears like the whispers of demons.

Of course, being from Ravenclaw and using her own tricks to do journalism in a despicable way, she was an extremely arrogant person who couldn't tolerate anyone saying a word about her.

Such people are generally very serious and easily lose themselves in their areas of expertise, just as the Sorting Hat described.

Rita only snapped out of her daze when the pub owner yelled at them rudely, "The drinks are ready!" and returned dazedly carrying three glasses of butterbeer.

"Bottoms up!" She slammed the glass down and licked the beer foam off the back of her hand.

"Are you sure? What if there's some dark wizard..."

“I’m not afraid of any dark wizards! I’m worried about Minister Fudge!” She hesitated for a moment, then continued, “The Daily Prophet is the official newspaper designated by the current Ministry of Magic. I can tell the difference between a full stomach and a regular meal.”

Fudge, it's alright now. Nietzsche thought it was something serious.

“If there are any problems, just have Minister Fouché contact me,” Nietzsche chuckled. “He won’t object.”

Hermione tilted her head, clutching the butterbeer tightly.

She also loved seeing Nietzsche like this—as a friend of the British wizarding prime minister, able to solve most problems with ease.

Chapter 252 Myrtle's Hint

The next day, when Nietzsche relayed the news to Fudge, the latter nearly burst out laughing.

What?! Barty Crouch is being controlled?

That's great... no, he meant that this kind of thing should be investigated secretly, and it would be best to find out why Crouch was involved with the dark wizard.

Rita was then informed that the Daily News would always reserve a portion of its exclusive coverage for her, a piece of good news that delighted her, but also made her very wary of Nietzsche.

And when Rufus Scrimgeour received the direct order from the Minister for Magic's office, his feelings were complex, because filtering out the tedious greetings, there was only one meaning:

To assist Nietzsche and Sherlock Holmes.

"You know about this?" He frowned, looking menacing.

"What is it?" Nietzsche was a little confused by his loud and boisterous manner.

"Do you know that Barty Crach once competed with Fudge for the position of Minister of Magic? Only if that's the case would the Minister allow me to strictly supervise you and complete the investigation..." He stared with his round eyes.

Scrimgeour certainly had reason to be angry, and Nietzsche could understand it. After all, having such an outstanding Auror director assist a student who had not yet graduated was undoubtedly a form of suppression.

Originally, the two of them were at most equals, but now, one is higher and the other is lower.

To be honest, Nietzsche knew nothing about this; he was more curious than anyone else about how Fudge had become Minister of Magic.

"Crouch has been rejected before?"

"If that incident hadn't happened, Fudge wouldn't have been able to get away with it. After the War of the Mysterio ended, during the purge of the Death Eaters, they discovered something that no one expected: his son was a Death Eater."

The son of the former Chief of Staff, he is a loyal subordinate of Voldemort.

Anyone who heard that would be terrified. Under such circumstances, even if Barty Crouch had the prestige of Headmaster Dumbledore, he would have no chance of becoming Minister for Magic.

No wonder Fudge was so happy and so careful in his actions.

He was happy because Nietzsche was helping him uncover dirt on his enemies, and he was cautious because his appointment as Minister of Magic was a last resort for the wizards—there was no one else to choose from.

Nietzsche had a keen intuition; he sensed something was amiss like a hunting dog.

If Bertha Jorkins's transformation is related to Crouch, then it's possible that she discovered something out of her curiosity... something that would make Mr. Crouch take action.

At that moment, Scrimgeour saw Hermione come down from the Gryffindor tower, then suddenly slapped his forehead and strode away, as if intentionally avoiding the two of them appearing at the same time.

"Good morning~" Hermione tossed her beautiful curly hair and yawned.

Lavender and the others squeezed past her from behind, covering their mouths and giggling, causing Hermione's cheeks to visibly flush red, as sweet as warm wine.

As they passed Nietzsche, they seemed to be talking to themselves, but their voices were just loud enough for him to hear.

"The person I care about most..." "It's him, isn't it?"

"What are they gossiping about now?" Nietzsche, holding Crookshank, glanced at the girl suspiciously. "Did you say something again...?"

"No! They were just some boring fill-in-the-blank questions related to the competition!" Hermione blushed and quickly shook her head. "Wait, I'll go wash my face later."

But class was about to start, and there was no time to go back to the Gryffindor common room, so Nietzsche had no choice but to stand with them at the door of the girls' washroom.

It was still the same as when he was in second grade. He secretly peeked inside and looked towards the pool. He found that the passage to the secret room had long been sealed off, and the snake monster was probably already rotting and infested with maggots.

Hermione had just turned on the tap when a blue ghost, accompanied by a scream, gushed out with the water.

"Myrtle!" Hermione yelled angrily, then began to mutter, "I finally managed to spray on my conditioner today, which is why I don't want to do these things—they're too much trouble and they're bound to get ruined."

"Haha... Damn Mischief, it chased me into the sewers again last night." Myrtle stood upside down on the ceiling. "You're here for the golden eggs too?"

“Golden egg? No, I just came in to wash my face…” Hermione said.

Myrtle looked around the empty room, then continued, "That's good. The pool here is too small. Unless you're willing to shove your head and the golden egg into the toilet, or like Potter did yesterday."

Just as Nietzsche guessed: she didn't need to worry about the clues, because the clues would find her automatically.

"Potter?"

"Oh ho ho~ Potter and Cedric both took the golden eggs to the prefects' bathroom yesterday..." Myrtle saw the shadow at the door and said with a mischievous smile, "A good girl like you must have never seen those boys' small bodies."

Hermione felt very uncomfortable with her mysterious demeanor.

"You went to the prefectural head's washroom just to peep at the boys showering?" Nietzsche looked at the other person as if he were trash.

“Because I’m already dead!” Myrtle screamed. “You couples only know how to laugh at me, and Mischief too… I just slipped out of the bathroom and got thrown into the sewer. I thought you would understand me!”

Understand? She seemed to think Nietzsche was like those boys who always fantasized about peeping at girls bathing.

Then she jumped into the toilet with a splash and disappeared.

The good news is that Hermione has learned the secret behind the golden egg—she needs to find a bathtub and soak herself and the golden egg together.

"This...isn't this too suspicious?"

“It wasn’t Peeves who drove her into the sewers,” Nietzsche nodded.

To be precise, Myrtle didn't see it clearly at all. She only knew that Peeves, who had always been at odds with her, was the most likely thing to attack her. But if that was the case, it would be simple.

All he needs to do is question Riddle:

Let's see if anyone knows Harry Potter's whereabouts last night.

They are like Rita Skeeter, who only need to sit quietly on the sidelines and wait for the fish they want to bite.

Chapter 253 Riddle—The Eye Inserted into Potter

“That crazy retired Auror saw Potter, and no one else could have spotted Potter hiding behind the Invisibility Cloak.” Riddle’s remnant soul emerged.

After Hermione returned to Gryffindor, she casually made up an excuse to get Tom Riddle's diary back. Harry was a little reluctant to part with it, knowing that he had learned a lot of notes in it to help him with his exams.

After finishing his morning spells class and alchemy elective, Nietzsche rushed to the principal's office and took out the Horcrux.

Riddle's image was much clearer than before, and it was obvious that he had absorbed a lot of magic from Potter to nourish himself, which also made Principal Dumbledore look somewhat worried.

"You mean Moody is deliberately favoring Harry?" The headmaster waved his wand, adding two cushions to the fireplace.

Phoenix Fox shook its wings and leaped out of the blazing firewood. Riddle, standing nearby, retreated in disgust, clearly disliking the phoenix, and hissed fiercely at Fox.

Riddle, entrusted with a task, inhabits Harry Potter's body, becoming his second pair of eyes.

“Probably, and he borrowed Potter’s Marauder’s Map, apparently intending to spy on Snape… Was that your idea?” Riddle turned to Nietzsche and said, “He doesn’t trust anyone.”

“In fact, I trust Severus very much…” Dumbledore retorted.

It's unbelievable! Whenever Riddle and Dumbledore are in the same place, they never stop bickering.

"So this was his own idea?" Nietzsche abruptly changed the subject. "A retired Auror with post-war trauma, suspicious of everyone?"

“Ah…it seems Severus didn’t tell you about that,” the headmaster mused. “It’s understandable that Astori would be targeting him, after all, he was a Death Eater—until the night Lily left.”

It's Lily again, Lily Potter!

Nietzsche had seen this woman in Blake's memoirs, a woman who could make Death Eaters turn against him, but what exactly was her charm?

But then he immediately thought of something and asked the principal, "The professors know the specific details of the Three Kingdoms Tournament, right?"

“That’s right,” Dumbledore replied briefly.

A quick glance at "A Piece of School History" reveals that the former Hogwarts janitor attempted to control Peeves with a bell imbued with multiple layers of traction charms, only to have it easily blown away.

"Then that's it. The one who sent Myrtle back to the girls' restroom last night wasn't Peeves, but Moody... Peeves is different from ordinary ghosts. It's a ghost that can touch objects and has magic."

Therefore, Myrtle mistakenly believed that Peeves had attacked her again using some kind of magic and chased her back into the sewers.

Whether it was Dumbledore or Nietzsche, because Bertha's disappearance was in Albania, it was certain that Voldemort already knew about the Triwizard Tournament and that someone had placed Harry and Hermione's names in the Goblet of Fire as instructed.

But...

“Moody, but if Moody controlled Crouch, then what was his purpose?” Dumbledore stroked the feathers on the phoenix’s head, his brow furrowed with worry.

This was beyond his expectations, to the point that he could hardly believe Moody was being impersonated.

"Hmph, why don't you use your amazing mind-reading ability?" Riddle seemed quite pleased with the principal's expression, and he said with a sinister smile.

"First of all, Legilimency cannot read minds; at most, it can see the other person's memories. The human mind is a very complex thing. Secondly, while others were still grappling with the issue of unfairness, only Moody and I realized the seriousness of the problem."

The headmaster felt that if something were tampered with at some point, Hermione might be able to protect herself, but taking Harry Potter's life would be quite easy.

However, Nietzsche did not think so.

He could ensure that Harry and Hermione were not in mortal danger and would definitely receive a warning because Voldemort would not be foolish enough to tamper with the competition.

This is a three-way battle for supremacy!

It was a match personally overseen by Albus Dumbledore, and it was a highly anticipated event!

Dumbledore fell into a trap—he suspected everyone but those he trusted.

"Voldemort fears death and seeks immortality and eternal glory, but who is his greatest obstacle? It's you," Riddle said logically. "Besides, when have I ever worked under your nose?"

He was a mixture of Voldemort's soul and memories; when it comes to understanding, who can compare to Voldemort himself?

The phoenix's fiery red color shimmered in Dumbledore's eyes as he drifted into memories—Riddle was right, from their student days onward, Voldemort had always appeared as a well-behaved student in Dumbledore's eyes.

The other party is very good at hiding themselves and never reveals themselves easily.