Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Who knows what else might happen this summer? Maybe next time it won't just be werewolves, but the other side still held firm at No. 4 Privet Drive, and could only watch his wife and son disappear into the flames.

"You could have come along too." Hermione couldn't understand what was going on in this Muggle's head.

“And then?” Vernon said angrily, clutching his double-barreled shotgun tightly. “I’ve lived here for decades, this is my home… I… my son, Penny… I’m going to keep this place just like it used to be.”

He tidied up the things and, based on his memory, put the teapot, cups, table, and chairs back in their original positions.

Without needing to say more, Nietzsche knew that this man still loved his wife, Petunia Dursley, and simply left with the words, "If you need anything, you can always come to Wisteria Drive to find me" before departing.

Snape didn't go home either; it seemed he planned to stay here all summer to work on potions.

However, Nietzsche was too lazy to care about the professor, so he simply moved back to the Grangers' house. The Grangers seemed unaware of their daughter's nighttime outing and continued to warmly welcome Nietzsche as always.

The next morning, as he sat in the dining room, looking at the fried cod and salad dressing in front of him, wondering if Professor Snape would starve to death by himself, a loud cracking sound of firewood suddenly came from the fireplace in the living room.

The green sparks drifted from the living room and, to Mr. Granger's astonishment, coalesced into a smoking red envelope.

"what is that?"

“A roaring letter…” Hermione grabbed the letter as she ran down from the bedroom. “It’s from the Ministry of Magic, and it has my name and Nietzsche’s name on it.”

Nietzsche covered his ears, and seeing this, Mr. Granger also blankly plugged his ears with his fingers.

A flame suddenly burst out of the roaring letter, and a howl came from the mouth of the letter that was gradually burning. Because the ears were covered beforehand, the sound was not too harsh and was just loud enough for people to hear.

"The Dementors of Azkaban have all deserted their posts, and a large number of Death Eaters have escaped. They're coming!"

The water in the glass rippled from the roar, and the jelly pudding shook. It sounded like a warning from Chief Scrimgeour. When the sound ended, the letter was burned to ashes.

It's like throwing a stone into a pond; the process is quick, but it instantly shatters the peaceful atmosphere.

"What do you mean? Dementors?" Wendell Granger, unlike Mrs. Dursley who had a wizard sister, was hearing about such creatures for the first time. "What business is it of yours if a dark wizard escapes from prison?"

Mr. Granger seemed to genuinely believe his daughter was just running a legitimate business... but that was all in the past.

“A creature that can extract pleasure and soul—remember those patients who became vegetative overnight? That was their leftovers,” Nietzsche sighed. “It seems to be happening faster than we imagined.”

He thought that the Muggle situation would at least delay the Ministry of Magic for a while, and at least keep those Dementors at bay, but it seems that's not going to work.

Those few Muggles were just a taste of the good stuff. Nietzsche knew it was only a matter of time before the Dementors betrayed the Ministry of Magic, but he didn't expect the process to be so swift. Well, that makes sense, since wizards can't kill Dementors.

“You and your mother shouldn’t go out at night,” Hermione said sternly.

Perhaps it was a habit formed from her profession, but her expression no longer resembled that of an ordinary student; rather, it was that of a leader.

However, Mr. Granger waited for a long time but didn't hear anything more, so he turned to Nietzsche, hoping he would say something... But to Mr. Granger's disappointment, it was 'they' who didn't want to go out, not 'we'.

"But what about you? No, this kind of thing shouldn't concern you."

“We are preventing… or more precisely, delaying World War III. Hermione and I have monopolized the new technology, and in a sense, we need to declare war,” Nietzsche said softly, trying to comfort her.

"Doesn't the Ministry of Magic care?"

"Yes, it's under management. That's precisely why I have to step in and resolve it."

“You mean…” Mr. Granger blinked, and it took him a while to figure out the relationship between Nietzsche and the Ministry of Magic. “Ah… I see.”

He couldn't refute her at all; his logic was perfectly sound: because the Ministry of Magic needed to deal with the problem of pure-blood bullying Hermione, and the Ministry of Magic belonged to Nietzsche, so Nietzsche had to step in.

Nietzsche leisurely finished his fried cod, then took out his black walnut wand, walked to the doorway, squatted down, and made a rustling sound as he drew on the wand. A rune '?' (Fehu) appeared below.

It was very inconspicuous, and disappeared after flashing twice.

Voldemort, as the most ruthless and arrogant Dark Lord of all time, would not allow Muggles and the Ministry of Magic to oppose him; the Dementors were merely the vanguard...

Thinking of this, Nietzsche ran to the living room and dialed Mycroft Holmes's number, calmly saying, "Isn't Moran the second-in-command of the Homeland Security Strategy Bureau? Tell him that Privet Road is going to be in big trouble."

There was no sound on the other end of the phone at first, so he thought his uncle had fallen asleep while eating dessert again.

"And you? Aren't you planning to join forces?... "Mycroft chuckled and continued, "I know about what's going on between you, but I was under a lot of pressure to appoint you as the first person in charge to the Prime Minister.

The royal family slimmed down and attracted investment... and this wealth was then invested in social welfare and new military technologies, which made the Prime Minister's prestige in Britain soar and his power even greater.

Nietzsche understood that if he were prime minister, he would have protected Moriarty and others as well.

“I wish they were dead!” he cursed into the microphone, then sighed and said, “You know, the Ministry of Magic doesn’t have any extra Aurors to help you… Fine, I’ll let you handle the Death Eaters’ first counterattack.”

He couldn't afford to involve the Ministry of Magic in any way, so he was willing to go to the battlefield himself.

"Are you sure they'll only be on Privet Road?" Mycroft asked again, followed by a series of typing sounds on the other end of the phone.

"determine."

“Okay, I will have the Prime Minister gather S.H.D. at your place, and those house-elves will take care of it.”

"Does the Prime Minister trust them a lot?"

"Of course, who doesn't like a responsible and conscientious public institution?"

"That's good."

(Blood flows like a river! Hahaha!!)

Chapter 299 Tonight, Blood Will Flow Like a River

"Can we establish a connection with Voldemort?" Nietzsche wanted to confirm the commonalities between the Horcruxes once again.

“You know this is an irreversible process, right? Once my soul and Voldemort's are connected, this place will be exposed,” Marvolo said. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell Dumbledore?”

Marvolo's soul was originally a piece of Voldemort's soul, but through resurrection and the fragmentation of his memories, he formed an independent personality. Therefore, he is more controllable than the original Harry Potter.

In other words, Marvolo can choose whether or not to open the vision between Horcruxes.

“Then let’s go.” Nietzsche didn’t answer directly, but simply pulled the other person away from Baker Street and knocked on the door of number four Privet Drive.

He knew Dumbledore wouldn't allow him to do that; if Voldemort's forces were drawn in, the resulting disaster would be incalculable, and no one knew how many Muggles would die.

But he understood the danger better than the great headmaster—rather than letting Voldemort launch sneaky attacks, it was better to shift the conflict to the Prime Minister, so he could sit back and watch the two tigers fight...

Nietzsche no longer cared how many people would die; he only cared how much of the enemy's power could be eroded.

The living room lights were still on. Vernon Dursley, dragging his heavy body, came from the second-floor bedroom and opened the door for the two of them. His beard, styled like a walrus's whiskers, was moving excitedly with his lips.

It seems Vernon was unsure how to approach Nietzsche, given his status as a powerful wizard in both worlds.

“He’ll stay here in Harry Potter’s place and protect you.” Nietzsche casually hung his hat on the coat rack, commanding like a homeowner, “No matter what noise you hear, don’t go out…”

"Those monstrous things are coming?" Vernon swallowed hard, his face turning ashen.

"Yes, because Marvolo will use his brain to create a false message to send to Voldemort, making him mistakenly believe that Harry is still at your house, so it will be very lively tonight."

“What about the others?” Marvolo asked. “What about Hudson, your landlord, and your father?”

Nietzsche glanced at the wall clock in the living room; it was two o'clock in the afternoon. By the time the Grangers got off work at four and went home early, Hermione had already picked up Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock and taken them to her own home.

The runes will work because of his and Hermione's blood oath: as long as either of them is alive, the Granger family's magic will not be interrupted.

"Don't worry, your milk and cookies won't be out of stock," Nietzsche joked with Mrs. Hudson.

He had Marvolo sit on the sofa in the living room, while he stared at the surreal image created by the sunken sofa cushions opposite him.

Human memory is retrospective; when recalling past events, it is not necessarily the same as what actually happened at the time, which can cause some errors. Therefore, wizards created the Pensieve.

Voldemort wasn't stupid; he might have doubts about the veracity of the information. But what if it was only partially true?

“I’ve got it. Change ‘Harry left the Dursleys’ to ‘is about to leave’,” Nietzsche said, looking at the ruined fireplace.

Harry left yesterday, while Marvolo only needed to change yesterday's events to today, or simply ignore any concept of time and only send Voldemort a vague message.

This message was a clue deliberately left by Nietzsche to guide Voldemort's thinking.

Marvolo didn't speak, but squinted his eyes and focused on replaying the events of yesterday in his mind.

Marvolo frowned, his breathing slowed, while Nietzsche crossed his fingers in front of his nose, quietly waiting for the transmission between souls to finish, listening to the other unconscious hissing sound.

'That must hurt a lot...' Nietzsche thought.

Because Marvolo Sisyphus looked like he was about to collapse, with beads of sweat the size of mung beans seeping from his forehead and his eyes turning into long, vertical pupils, and after a long time, his fingers, which were resting on his thighs, suddenly began to twitch.

“It’s Penny…that Muggle woman…she’s his target…” Marvolo said hoarsely. “He’s been tricked.”

"Son of the Beach!" Vernon gripped his pillow in shock and anger, cursing the noseless Dark Lord.

“Potter met him when he was in first grade, and I saw his memories… Listen to me, Holmes, your decision was correct. Voldemort’s target was indeed Petunia Dursley.”

First grade?

Nietzsche recalled that Voldemort had possessed Professor Quirrell, but ultimately died... However, now he realized that he should have 'died' from the protective magic within Harry's body.

With the Goblet of Fire resurrected, Voldemort realized he had missed a superior Horcrux, so he turned his attention to Penny—as the key to unlocking ancient magic.

With Petunia dead, Harry's magic will naturally disappear as well.

Harry is the sword that pierced Voldemort, and the sword is kept in a treasure chest called the Dursleys'... So, who wouldn't keep the 'key' safe?

“It seems the feeling of a soul connection isn’t pleasant.” Nietzsche waved his wand and draped the blanket over the other person.

After just one brief connection, Mavolo's lips began to turn white, as if he had been soaked in a cold, black lake, all the heat in his body had been drained away, and he was shivering wrapped in a thin blanket.

But he still looked like he was questioning the meaning of life.

“The only thing I realize is how stupid I was,” Marvolo said. “Even though I drained Ginny’s life force and possessed her, it doesn’t change the fact that I am a Horcrux.”

This is also why Nietzsche wasn't afraid of Marvolo's betrayal: only one of them could survive—Marvolo or Voldemort.

“It’s like two hands prying open your brain and stuffing in memories that don’t belong to you…and then it’s like it’s being scorched by fire, all messed up.” Marvolo tried to describe the feeling of the soul connection.

Vernon was speechless. He had originally intended to watch the spectacle, but when he thought of Harry Potter, he suddenly suppressed his sarcasm.

You should know that this is a feeling Harry experiences every year.

"So...so that kid is Jesus to the wizards?" Vernon said bitterly.

Jesus voluntarily was nailed to the cross to suffer for the world, so that people can live carefree lives. This could also be applied to Harry, who, after all, was also bearing suffering for the wizards that was not his own.

Oh, but Harry might feel a little more pain, since Jesus' scar was on his hand, while Harry's is on his forehead.

But look at Harry now, free from his misery...

Because of Nietzsche, God is dead.

The sun quietly set, leaving only the moonlight as its last trace. Everything returned to calm, and people who had spent the day there returned to their houses early. The air was filled with a sultry heat and the soft scent of grass.