Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Nietzsche thought to himself with a self-deprecating smile: "Fools are always lucky."

Seeing the other person's smug expression, which practically screamed "Praise me!", Nietzsche suddenly had a brilliant idea.

He said, "No, this is a good opportunity. You can agree to those councilors' proposal and release information about wizards, but the person releasing the information must be you..."

Lockhart was dumbfounded, his big eyes filled with doubt and suspicion.

"Are you planning to roast me over the fire again?"

“Not at all, what do you mean ‘again’? Gilderoy, you’re helping people all the way out, right?” Nietzsche said without hesitation, “You’re responsible for representing the face of the wizards, you can’t let Voldemort take this opportunity for you.”

It's only a matter of time before he's exposed. Rather than letting Muggles develop a stereotype of wizards because of Death Eaters and Voldemort, it's better to first establish an image of a handsome, wealthy wizard who frequents high society.

Look! That's where the peacock comes in handy.

"Since you've seen Voldemort resurrected anyway, why not make the story more vivid?"

Lockhart, as a major contributor to the promotion of magical flying cars, already had a group of Muggles supporting him. He voluntarily admitted that he was a wizard, and that was enough for him to bring fun and safety to the people.

Before he could react, Nietzsche grabbed another bottle of Darkmoon Potion and shoved it into his hand.

In the room with the curtains drawn, the pale blue fluorescence within the black potion was strikingly conspicuous, captivating Lockhart for a moment.

"This is the antidote that can cure wolfsbane... The Territorial Strategy Bureau has just been established, and nobody cares about logistics and welfare, but you can bite into this tough piece of bread." Nietzsche's voice was like a devil's murmur, seducing him.

Logistics and arms supplies are the Prime Minister's hobbies; the only thing nobody cares about is welfare.

Welfare is money, and nobody wants to do this losing business, except Nietzsche... He knew how much power the 'Dark Moon Potion' in his hands had—power enough to completely change an entire race.

Those in power in war see lives as just a simple number, and he is the one who seeks to find that breakthrough.

"Can this stuff really cure wolfsbane?" Lockhart asked, still somewhat skeptical.

"Wait a minute... Lockhart, you just need to propose SHD's medical coverage, believe me, no one will care. If you don't believe me, you can test it on team number 501 first, there are a few patients there."

In small-scale skirmishes, wolfsbane leaves Muggles helpless, and everyone wants to take on this hot potato.

All Lockhart had to do was wait until all the Muggles were at their wits' end and ready to give up on the soldiers infected with wolfsbane. Then, he could simply prepare a few potions for those soldiers and gain a large number of loyal followers.

“You want me to handle this? But...but I don’t know how...I mean, I can make up some stories to make Muggles laugh..." Lockhart started to back down.

“It’s alright, just give the potion to the Prime Minister and hand it over to those house-elves,” Nietzsche said with a smile. “People always need to grow up, and now it’s your turn. Get into the Hall of Ceremonies.”

So go become a senator... the great Lockhart.

Chapter 302 Clash between the Ministry of Magic and the Wizarding Association

The dry, hot summer, thick with the smell of blood, was drawing to a close, and what pleased Nietzsche most was his enjoyment at home... this home refers to Granger's house.

But Nietzsche can't be blamed for this, since Mrs. Granger seems to like him a little more than her daughter. Of course, only Hermione thinks so, since she always gets the least dessert.

Mr. Granger, on the other hand, became even lazier. After the Dementors and Death Eaters escaped from prison, he initially went to get off work every day, but later, unless a patient called, he spent the rest of his time taking care of his pets.

His most frequent phrase was: "Crooked Mountain...Crooked Mountain! Bullying Mercury again!"

What woke Nietzsche in the morning was no longer the gunshots in the living room, but the hooting of owls and the sound of Crookshan being mounted on a wooden board.

"Good morning." He came out of his small bedroom, stretched, and greeted Hermione next door. "Your hair...did you forget to use conditioner again?"

He noticed that Hermione's curly hair was tangled in several knots, and her sky-blue pajamas were loose and baggy, without her even mentioning the collar that had slipped off her shoulders.

At first, Hermione paid some attention to her appearance, but after Nietzsche stayed at the Grangers' house until August, she reverted to her old unkempt self, and simply rolled her eyes lazily in response to the suggestion.

Hermione, in a semi-conscious state, used a headbutt attack.

"You two hurry up and come down. By the way, Nietzsche, your cat seems to be getting heavier and heavier." Mrs. Granger glanced at the two playing around in the stairwell and shook her head helplessly.

Nietzsche ignored Crookshank, who was perched on Mr. Granger's lap, and instead raised his eyebrows to look at Hermione, who was staggering down the stairs, his eyes unconsciously wandering over her askew nightgown.

It seems...some places have gotten heavier, he's sure of it.

A few owls flew in from the kitchen, leaving many letters on the dining table, giving Hermione something extra to do before the meal.

“There’s one from Harry Potter, saying he had a great time with Ron and Neville at the Black’s; and there’s also a thank you from the Weasleys.” She carefully opened each letter, read them, and wrote back with her magic quill.

"Can't you just enjoy your vacation?"

Nietzsche didn't know how she managed to persevere. To him, these trivial matters were like a pile of junk files crammed into the middle of his bookshelf, only meant to distract him.

However, Hermione enjoyed it immensely, replying with lengthy messages even to the simplest greeting.

“But these are things that should be done, unless you are in charge of these internal affairs!” she said proudly, puffing out her cheeks. “But given how busy you are with diplomatic affairs, I won’t make things difficult for you.”

“You call this internal affairs? I don’t even need to open it to know what they’re trying to say.” Nietzsche casually brushed aside the letters dropped by a flock of owls.

He touched George and Fred's envelopes, which were bulging inside. They were definitely full of pranks, and when opened, they might pop out some fireworks, frog popping candy, or something similar.

As for Harry, he and his friends would probably turn the wizard's house into a haunted house, deliberately getting revenge on Dudley for playing...

“Have you heard? I saw on the news this morning that Gilderoy Lockhart, the guy who promoted the flying car, has publicly revealed that he’s a wizard.” Mr. Granger walked over, his left arm around Crookshank and his right arm around Mercury.

During these days of staying home, he has been enjoying bonding with his pets.

"What was the reaction?" Nietzsche asked curiously.

“Very good...really, a classic pacifist.”

Nietzsche couldn't help but recall Lockhart's self-introduction in the auditorium when he was in second grade. His so-called hope for world peace was just a persona he created for himself; in reality, he was terrified of dying.

But in any case, as long as ordinary people have a good impression of Lockhart, that's fine.

"Here's a letter from Dumbledore!" Hermione suddenly interrupted their conversation, reading the letter with an embarrassed expression.

"It's probably about a new book or something..." Nietzsche ignored it.

But just as he was about to serve some soup, Hermione nudged him under the table with her thigh, pursed her lips and ground her teeth. She glanced at Mr. Granger first, and then simply shoved the letter into his hand.

Dumbledore...Dumbledore...Nietzsche always felt that nothing good came of it when he heard this name.

I saw it read:

"Nietzsche John Holmes is involved in a violation of the International Statute of Secrecy. After consultation with the current British Ministry of Magic, the Wizengamot Wizarding Association hereby informs you that you must appear before the Ministry of Magic on August 31st for trial."

Wizengamo is the highest court of the wizarding world, while the International Confederation of Wizards is the United Nations of wizards.

However, judging from the content, it seems that it was obstructed by the Ministry of Magic.

"What's wrong?" Mrs. Granger asked, secretly mocking her daughter's serious expression. "What major event has happened in the magical world that requires you two little wizards to handle?"

Nietzsche simply folded the letter and stuffed it back into his pocket, casually remarking, "It's just a notification that enrollment is a day early."

This was expected and reasonable, but Nietzsche couldn't immediately grasp whether the Wizengamot judgment was in accordance with Dumbledore's will...

After breakfast, Hermione hurriedly pulled Nietzsche upstairs in front of her father. She pushed him into her bedroom, locked the door, and cast an anti-eavesdropping spell on him.

Then Nietzsche watched as she rummaged through the bookshelf, eventually taking down a copy of the Wizengamo Charter of Power and the International Law of Secrecy.

“Don’t worry, let me see… there’s a list of defendants’ powers here…” Hermione said, frowning. “Found it! I think they’ll charge you with violating Directive Seventy-Three.”

Article 73 of the International Law on Secrecy states that each country's Ministry of Magic will bear significant responsibility if anything harms Muggle society, and its international governing body will be punished along with the offender.

This single charge was enough to make other wizards refuse to defend the accused.

"How could they do this? When Voldemort was causing trouble, why didn't they lend a hand?" Hermione said angrily.

She didn't think Nietzsche had done anything wrong, so he felt more at ease and even comforted her, saying, "What's there to be afraid of? The Ministry of Magic is there to protect us."

But thinking back to the trials I've faced, I always feel that those wizarding associations were just playing house, all they did was intimidate and accuse.

The feeling is completely different going from being a spectator to being a defendant.

As for Fudge... forget it, Nietzsche believes he can handle this kind of thing. It's better to spend some time with Hermione tonight.

Chapter 303 Politician Lockhart's Debut

Hermione seemed very nervous about the accusations. Every night, she would take a few books and tiptoe onto Nietzsche's bed around two or three in the morning, dragging him around to look for other related cases.

Most of the wizards who can be accused of violating the secret law are dark wizards, and only they don't care whether they are discovered by Muggles.

However, there were still people willing to defend Nietzsche, not Hermione Granger, of course, as she hadn't yet thoroughly studied all the laws and regulations. Therefore, this person was Gilderoy Lockhart, who had just been promoted to a British politician.

At noon on the 31st, the other person slammed their head against Granger's wooden door, making a loud clanging sound.

“My head…” Lockhart grumbled, rubbing his swollen forehead as he squatted on the steps. “Ugh, I should have known better than to use the Apparition Charm.”

It was Nietzsche's runes that worked, isolating other magic and preventing the phantom from appearing, which caused Lockhart's position to change and cause him to crash into the door frame.

However, upon seeing Mrs. Granger open the door, he instantly changed his expression, putting on a bright, white smile.

“You are…you are that wizard councilor?!” Mr. Granger exclaimed in surprise.

"Shh~ Please keep this a secret, gentlemen. Because of time constraints, I have to borrow your fireplace for a moment," Lockhart said politely, casually tossing some Floo Powder into the smoldering ashes.

Mr. Granger was simply surprised by the visitor, gave a few words of advice, and then continued to pass the time with Crook Hill tea.

Flying networks are not like roads, as Nietzsche had already experienced; they simply feel like leaps... allowing data to ignore the interconnected wires and be sent directly from one node to another.

As the three of them emerged from the gilded Ministry of Magic furnace, which was used specifically for teleportation, they brushed the ashes off their clothes.

This was Nietzsche's second time reaching the depths of the tenth floor. Passing through the corridors of the Department of Mysteries, he looked at the tightly closed black doors and could hear the clear chimes of clocks and beautiful songs coming from inside.

At those entrances, semi-transparent black gauze curtains were set up, fluttering in the windless underground corridors.

“If you are not innocent, then the Ministry of Magic will also be punished… Ah, who would have thought that Fudge once strongly supported the Act of Secrecy?” Lockhart used crude magic to light the torches by the wall.

“Those people will target Nietzsche, I guarantee they’ll use the ‘Carlota case’ to pressure him!” Hermione said.

Carlotta Pinkstone was an activist who supported the repeal of the Act of Secrecy in the 1970s and openly used magic in front of Muggles on multiple occasions, eventually leading to her imprisonment in Azkaban.

Nietzsche and Carlotta were completely different; the latter simply couldn't stand the stifling feeling and stubbornly and purely exposed the magic to satisfy his own desires.

Lockhart stood at the door, looking calm, unlike when he heard the news of the basilisk. Instead, he was full of vigor. He turned around, smoothed the wrinkles on Nietzsche's wizard's robe, and then slowly pushed open the wooden door.

The solemn and eerie atmosphere of the courtroom was palpable, with firelight spreading along the rows of seats that gradually rose in elevation on both sides.

“Don’t worry…” Nietzsche saw Dumbledore in his crimson robes. There was an empty seat there, so he let Hermione sit down while he and Lockhart went to the center of the room.

There was also an iron chair with chains fastened to it, but Nietzsche thought to himself that he was no Death Eater, so neither of them sat down.

“Very well, the defendant has arrived.” Fudge sat in the middle of the first row of chairs, his face turning cold, and shouted loudly at the bench opposite him, “Can we begin? Please hurry, I have a lot to do tonight.”