Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Clearly, how could Crouch, who was renowned and once held the position of Minister of Magic, suddenly kill Bertha Jorkins, a lowly and ordinary Ministry of Magic employee?

“Crouch’s son may not be dead…” Nietzsche slowly uttered the fact they could hardly believe.

The person wearing the Moody mask could very well be Barty Crouch Jr., though this is just speculation, as Scrimgeour and Dumbledore have said—his death is documented.

If that's the case, then it would overturn the historical records that were once irrefutable with countless witnesses and physical evidence, and they would have to firmly doubt Moody, whom they trusted and knew the most.

“That’s impossible!” Scrimgeour said, stunned. “But if Crouch protected his son, and if Barty Jr. was impersonating Moody, then why didn’t he do it? He had countless ways to kill Harry!”

The other party could easily use their status as a professor to lure Harry to a secluded corner and then finish him off with a Killing Curse.

But Nietzsche had already thought of this long ago, from the moment he began to doubt Moody.

“Maybe Voldemort needs Harry Potter…” Nietzsche shrugged. “What do you think Hermione’s role is? Her role is to protect her. She stays by the headmaster’s side and knows which student in the school is the strongest.”

To be precise, it was Glendale, the associate professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, who recommended it.

"Thank you for the compliment~" Hermione said with a faint smile.

You're welcome, I'm just stating the facts.

Meanwhile, Scrimgeour muttered to himself in disbelief. He hadn't expected that his mission to investigate Crouch's disappearance would lead him to uncover several earth-shattering cases:

Barty Crouch Jr. and Voldemort.

Whether they believed Rita Skeeter or not, Hermione was always decisive when it came to Voldemort.

"So, now that Barty Crouch Jr. has the Marauder's Map, he'll definitely be keeping an eye on it..."

“Rita!” Nietzsche abruptly interrupted her thoughts, saying calmly, “Barty Crouch Jr. hates her now. If it weren’t for her meddling and causing all that trouble, the Ministry of Magic wouldn’t have sent Mr. Scrimgeour.”

I don't know whether I should say a few words of praise for her, because there aren't many people who can make Death Eaters hold a grudge.

Not to mention he was Voldemort's most loyal Death Eater...

Rita Skeeter's use of Hermione in her writings has fueled discontent among Hermione's supporters towards Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Coupled with Crouch's temporary "departure," Fudge is in for a lot of flak if no one capable of handling things is appointed.

What? Percy, the director's assistant? What use is a newcomer?

This haphazard approach is like a barbarian angrily throwing stones into a pond, accidentally stunning a few fish in the process.

"Do you really think 'Moody' is protecting Dumbledore?" Snape, quick-witted as ever, analyzed, "He just wants to take this opportunity to get rid of that woman Skeeter; she's an unstable factor."

"The mysterious man is still alive... still alive?!" Scrimgeour slumped into a chair. "I wouldn't be surprised if something absurd happened again."

But they can't act rashly now. If Barty Crouch Jr. notices the Marauder's Map and all the professors and Headmaster Dumbledore rushing towards him, he might just slip away.

Nietzsche had already suffered a loss at the hands of Sebastian Morin once, so naturally he wouldn't do it a second time.

"Don't worry, Rita doesn't know about this..." He was so excited he didn't know what to do. Every time he sorted out a new case, he always wanted to eat something to calm down, but all he could find in front of him was a bowl of chocolate and a pile of cockroaches.

He watched the cockroaches rustling and crawling around in the bowl, but he wasn't scared at all. He reached out and grabbed a few and stuffed them into his mouth.

Creak~

It even contains chocolate syrup.

“Runewaggle is really a good fit for you. While we were still having doubts, you already had a plan.” Dumbledore closed his eyes, seemingly lost in thought again.

“Isn’t this good?” Hermione said without hesitation. “With a plan, it’s never too late.”

“Oh, Miss Granger…we’re going to make Veritaserum in the next class. You and Holmes can move some materials from my storeroom.” Snape casually pulled a key from his pocket.

Professor McGonagall, standing to the side, wore a slightly surprised expression, as if she had witnessed something extraordinary.

Perhaps no student has ever been allowed to enter the Dean's office without permission, especially not Severus Snape, who is the most unpopular professor.

So Hermione and Nietzsche opened the door to Snape's office. Perhaps because Snape was particularly frightening on ordinary days, there was not a sound outside the office while they were cleaning up the armadillo gall and scarabs.

When a giant squid passes by outside the window, the room will be plunged into darkness for up to ten minutes.

"I'm thinking... should I send my parents abroad to avoid this?" Hermione was preparing materials for the next class when she suddenly broke the awkward atmosphere between them. "I feel like the future is going to be chaotic, and I don't know when things will settle down."

Now that Voldemort's influence has extended into Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic, she sensed an unusual change.

But the question is, where can they go?

Nietzsche turned to look at her, and in the flickering candlelight, he sensed that Hermione was more melancholy than ever before. Of course, her parents were just two more figures that could be added at any moment after the war began.

“Mien, if you can’t see your parents all the time, you’ll only worry more, and the Grangers won’t let you bear this alone.” Nietzsche paused, then continued, “We will protect them.”

"Us?" Hermione blinked, a slight smile playing on her lips.

"Believe me, John and Mary won't abandon your parents..." He knew what he was saying and tried to find an excuse to get away with it, but his throat tightened halfway through.

He felt as if his face had been poked, but it was softer than a finger.

Nietzsche turned his head and saw Hermione continuing to count the scarabs in her hand as if nothing had happened, as if it had just been his hallucination.

"What's wrong? You've even eaten cockroaches, you can't expect me to eat them too, can you?" She rolled her eyes at Nietzsche, pretending to hold up a measuring cup to check if there was enough armadillo bile, and then bit her lower lip hard.

However, Hermione reminded him that it was time to prepare for the war.

Chapter 259 Little Barty: There are more experts?

In the Muggle village of Little Hangleton, there was a huge manor. The villagers could see this once magnificent and imposing mansion perched on the hillside by simply looking up, but now it was lifeless.

In the abandoned house known as 'Riddle House,' the Muggles outside would never guess that a familiar face still lived inside.

"Wormtail, look what you've done!" a voice boomed from an old armchair facing the fireplace, beside which lay a giant serpent feeding. "You useless thing..."

Peter Pettigrew, who had escaped from Azkaban in the Ministry of Magic, stared in horror at the old Muggle who was already dead on the ground.

This man was a villager from the town who was killed by Voldemort for overhearing their conversation. However, the way he disposed of the body was truly distressing to watch – the giant snake had already swallowed half of the Muggle's body.

"Master, someone has messed things up..." Insect Tail suddenly raised its voice, becoming sharp and piercing, like fingernails scraping across a blackboard, "Someone has found Crouch's old home!"

He knelt respectfully to the side of the chair, pouting, wanting to kiss the baby-like little hand hanging down by the armrest.

Voldemort, he is not dead yet, he is still stubbornly alive, and with the help of his servants and followers, he has even taken over a temporary body, but this wrinkled appearance is something even Voldemort himself finds disgusting.

After a moment of silence, it asked softly, "Who noticed something?"

“Didn’t notice—that person was Rita Skeeter, a notorious journalist who only cares about stories.” Wormtail licked his chapped lips, speaking rapidly.

“A curious fool…just like Bertha, ha ha, well, kill her.” Voldemort seemed to have thought of something amusing.

“Me? But I—I have to serve you, and Skeeter's sudden death will surely lead to an investigation by the Ministry of Magic, and then…”

In fact, Wormtail did not want to kill Bertha. His initial suggestion to Voldemort was to alter her memories, but unexpectedly, the poor woman's mind had already been damaged by the Oblivion Charm beforehand.

Judging from the irreparable destruction, the spellcaster was a powerful wizard.

He dared not disobey Voldemort, but at the same time, he dared not let his hands get stained with blood... The only thing a man like him dared to do was to take sides and seek protection.

“I know—I know! That’s why I’ll have Barty do it.” Voldemort shut his mouth dismissively.

An idiot is an idiot; he can't even judge a person properly.

But Wormtail had no choice but to suffer in silence. He had been keeping a close eye on Crouch, but then Rita Skeeter suddenly appeared out of nowhere and startled the dejected Crouch.

The command was sent out in the form of magic, and Barty Crouch Jr., far away at Hogwarts, had long been planning to take action.

After finishing his classes each day, he would spend his free time staring at the Marauder's Map. The moment he saw Rita Skeeter and Nietzsche's names appear at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, he got up and headed there.

'That woman is probably doing some interviews again,' Little Barty thought to himself.

He guessed correctly; Rita was indeed doing interviews, but it had nothing to do with Hermione Granger.

“Crouch keeps saying the Dark Lord has risen... do you think that's some kind of code name?” Rita crept furtively behind a tall oak tree. “That old madman hit me! He and his son are Death Eaters!”

Nietzsche was called out by her owl and they agreed to meet in a clearing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

To be honest, he almost didn't recognize Rita Skeeter—she was covered in lumps, her face was swollen as if she'd been swarmed by bees, and she was crying out for more money.

“Oh dear—this ordeal cost more than a hundred gallons!” she said, hiding her face behind her crocodile-skin bag. “These are all traces of dark magic!”

“Where is Mr. Crouch?” Nietzsche glanced at her a few times, then looked away.

He's still alive, isn't he? As long as no body parts are damaged, a potion and some care from Madam Pomfrey will be fine.

But his appearance saddened Rita. Who was she working so hard for?

Although... although Nietzsche's commission was reasonably priced and he was very honest, and she did indeed want to become famous in part, she didn't know beforehand that Crouch was a madman who would beat up anyone he saw.

Rita sobbed:

"I had Boozer keeping watch over him at the Pig's Head Bar. He's gone mad now and doesn't trust anyone... You know what? I had Aberforth book a room for him and lock him up. That old bastard actually tried to raise the price!"

"Alright, alright, I'll reimburse you." Nietzsche nodded perfunctorily.

Upon hearing this, Rita immediately stopped crying.

As expected of you, using a crocodile skin bag and your face is covered in crocodile tears.

“That’s why I’m willing to do business with you and Lockhart—generous! No haggling.” She started laughing again. “So you know how to get to Hogsmeade Village, right?”

The other person's eyelids were swollen, and their whole face looked like a pig's head.

She wanted to get rid of Crouch as soon as possible, but Nietzsche was in no hurry to move and kept her attention focused on the surrounding bushes.

Aberforth is a wizard with a volatile temper and considerable power, so Crouch's safety is assured.

“Wait a little longer…” He grabbed Rita, who was about to leave.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked, puzzled. She looked up at the sky and saw a wandering fire dragon flying overhead. "Let's go. I don't want to stay here for another second."

“First, remove these traces of dark magic from your body.” Nietzsche flicked his wrist, bent his thumb, and stopped the slipping black walnut wood. “You put your wand in your bag, right? Take it out and get ready.”

"What—what do you want to do?"

Nietzsche reached out and pushed the gold-rimmed glasses around the other man's neck into the lump. Then he turned the two of them around and looked up at the towering towers above the castle, one of which was the principal's office.

The light flickering in that window, sometimes rapid, sometimes long, was a Morse code.

He glanced at his mechanical watch again; ten minutes had passed since they met, and it had taken him the same amount of time to walk from the school.

Barty Crouch Jr. arrived, and Nietzsche had rehearsed the scene countless times on his way there, imagining him limping across the meadows and hillsides in front of Headmaster Dumbledore's window, pretending to be on patrol, until he reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

“Wait a minute… just keep running. Once you’re out of the Forbidden Forest, you’ll be safe.” Nietzsche twisted her collar, pulled her ear close, and whispered, “Listen carefully, and you’ll hear two footsteps, one light and one heavy.”

This is how a lame person walks.

Just as Rita nervously opened her mouth to ask something, he caught a glimpse of red light in the reflection of her gold-rimmed glasses.