Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

"Come here!" Nietzsche leaned against the window, waving his hands to indicate the direction. Hearing this call, the other person finally got up and came over.

Immediately afterwards, the scenery outside the window began to rush past, and the cubicle door was pushed open by Marvolo. He put his things down, let out a breath, and seemed to relax a bit.

"I never imagined I'd have to go back to school..."

“Yes, let’s hope this time we don’t have another ghost in the school,” Nietzsche said gleefully. “But why would you want to go to Gryffindor? With your personality, going to Ravenclaw would be understandable.”

"It's just a different way of living." Marvolo took out a few flattened pieces of bread from his pocket, eating them without any disgust.

Just then, a commotion arose in the corridor. Having experienced this before, Nietzsche subconsciously thought that someone was up to something again. But when he pushed open the door, he found a group of people lining the corridor to "welcome" Malfoy.

A series of insulting gestures, such as disheartening sighs and pointing two fingers in the opposite direction, were all directed towards the middle of the corridor.

"Looks like they're looking for you." Marvolo watched the other person approach and silently shrank back.

Draco Malfoy had become a fugitive, and wherever he went, he was met with ridicule and angry stares. After all, if it weren't for Dumbledore's insistence, he would probably have been kicked out of the school by the other students as the son of a Death Eater.

His golden hair was no longer as smooth as before; it was dry and his hairline seemed to have receded considerably. Yet, he still clenched his fists and rushed toward Nietzsche.

"Where are Goyle and Crabbe?" Malfoy asked through gritted teeth, his head bowed.

“Dead,” Nietzsche said calmly.

“Dead...what? Dead? You're talking nonsense! They were just using Astoria as a show...you...you got the Ministry of Magic to arrest them, didn't you? They all said the Death Eaters are wanted by the Ministry of Magic.”

However, Nietzsche remained unmoved; his expression was as cold as Snape's.

He looked into the other person's eyes and said, word by word, "They are dead."

This was a cruel thing for Malfoy—his two childhood friends and younger brothers had suddenly died after only one summer vacation.

Nietzsche felt no sympathy, nor any guilt as he did towards Dumbledore or Muggles. Death was death; as Death Eaters, their final value was to become the Ministry of Magic's good news to the people.

When did he die? Last month? Or last week? Nietzsche couldn't remember either.

Fear filled Malfoy's eyes. He looked around blankly, clutching his head amidst the mocking glances of the others, before finally sliding slowly to the ground against the corridor window.

"So, are you a Death Eater?" Nietzsche drew his wand and poked the other man's right arm.

"I'm not!" Malfoy forcefully pushed away the wand in front of him and backed away, but then burst into a series of hoarse laughs. "You're trying to trap me and kill me too, aren't you? But I'm still a Hogwarts student!"

Tears streamed down Malfoy's face, but he was oblivious to it, and continued to point at Nietzsche and them, laughing.

His frenzied appearance made Pansy Parkinson cover her mouth, staring in horror at the once-glorious pure-blood nobleman on the ground. She pleaded in a low voice, "Stop... Draco, stop..."

“It’s a pity I don’t have the Dark Mark, so you can’t touch me.” Dracula rolled up his sleeves, revealing his thin, fair arms.

The others thought he had gone mad and returned to their respective cubicles with sarcastic remarks, but Nietzsche watched him warily, knowing that the more insane a person is, the more reckless their counterattack will be.

Malfoy was certain he wouldn't make a move under Dumbledore's nose, a feeling that was hard to bear. Nietzsche immediately thought of Moriarty.

The former's confidence stemmed from Dumbledore, while the latter's came from the Prime Minister; these two towering mountains blocked Nietzsche's path.

The helplessness, shock, anger, and hesitation of being controlled by others surged into Nietzsche's heart. He looked down at Malfoy, took a deep breath, and desperately used his Occlumency technique to suppress these negative emotions.

Don't be naive. Things are different now. Whether it's Moriarty or Dumbledore, the power they wield is far greater...

“Draco, I admit I can’t touch you.” Nietzsche crouched down, using magic to pull the other man close to him, and said in a voice only the two of them could hear, “But I swear, I will make you… wish you were dead.”

He stretched out his right hand, which was holding the wand, and threw Malfoy out, smashing him through the door and into the prefects' lounge.

He didn't even glance at Pansy, turned around and walked into the cubicle, locking the door again.

Now, all was quiet except for the occasional shout from a snack cart. Under the gradually darkening sky, the train began to pass through the woods, slowly slowing down as it circled the distant Hogwarts Castle.

After entering the station, Nietzsche and his entourage got off the train and walked down another path next to Hegri, who was receiving new students.

He draped a blanket over his shoulders and searched the streets for an empty carriage, but this time he found that the carriages in front of them were not empty, but rather occupied by a group of... let's call them 'horses'—magical creatures.

“You can see those Thestrals, can’t you?” Mavolo skillfully lit the lanterns on the carriage and tugged at the reins.

“I hadn’t seen them last year, so it seems the carriages at the school have always been pulled around,” Nietzsche said.

"Only those who have seen and gradually come to understand death can see it... You guys, you've probably killed too many dark wizards... But I've been able to see it for a long time."

Marvolo spoke of his past without any hesitation, as if he were talking about something that wasn't his own, a tone that made Hermione frown.

“We all know you are someone who has come back from the dead.” She nimbly climbed onto the carriage.

The carriage began to move forward, and Nietzsche couldn't help but observe the creatures that looked like skeletal horses, discovering that they also had a pair of folded bat wings hanging from their bodies.

“No, no, no, that’s secondary… I’m referring to Myrtle, that little Ravenclaw girl,” Marvolo said. “I am a Horcrux, and the creation of a Horcrux requires a life as a sacrifice.”

Horcruxes that escape death are born from death itself.

Chapter 308 I'm Amazing! Pink Toad!

This serves as a reminder for Nietzsche and is also key to the Horcrux clues. So, in terms of motive, the Horcruxes may have been created at the scene of a murder related to Voldemort.

Looking at the key points of this whole line of thought, aside from the location of the Horcruxes, the remaining crucial points are the deaths caused by Voldemort and the targets he chose, the latter of which is related to Voldemort's own background.

For example, the Horcrux Harry Potter is the result of the deaths of the Potters; the diary is the result of the death of Myrtle... But Voldemort was an extremely narcissistic person, and he would never choose his targets indiscriminately.

Think about it, how could a wizard like Voldemort, who would rather sever his Muggle self, just pick up a piece of trash as a Horcrux?

Nietzsche's thoughts drifted far, far away, and he didn't even realize when he had arrived at the foyer. It wasn't until Hermione nudged him a few times that he snapped out of his daze, only to see her point to a conspicuous figure at the head table.

“Umbridge, isn’t she the Deputy Minister for Magic?”

Because Dumbledore was wearing a purple robe with silver star patterns, and the background was a vaulted ceiling displaying a starry sky, it was hard not to notice Umbridge on the left, who was dressed entirely in pink.

Her skin was sagging, and her hair couldn't grow long. She was clearly an old woman, yet she still tried to act like a disgusting young girl.

When Umbridge took a sip of red wine and spoke into the headmaster's ear, Grindelwald, who was standing next to him, almost threw up.

“At the end of last term, Fudge and Dumbledore talked about the school’s security plan... but I thought he would send someone respectable,” Nietzsche said, frowning. “Even a house-elf kept by the Ministry of Magic would do.”

However, they sent the most disgusting, completely incompetent, jealous woman.

“Perhaps Mr. Scrimgeour is busy catching Death Eaters.” Hermione clicked her tongue as if she had taken a big bite of a bitter melon.

"Alright, alright, get out of my way, you two~" Marvolo pushed past them and swaggered toward the Gryffindor table. "Please have some consideration for an orphan who has never had a full meal, okay? I'm so poor right now that I don't even have a wand."

So Nietzsche and Hermione parted ways temporarily and sat down at their respective house tables to listen to the Sorting Hat singing a completely off-topic song.

Then came the freshman orientation: wearing caps, being assigned to a college, and then waiting for the long line to gradually shorten until the last freshman stepped off the stage, at which point the welcome banquet would begin.

But many people were staring longingly at the stage, and for others, few recognized Umbridge.

"Please note, while you're enjoying this delicious meal, I hope you'll listen to my usual ramblings... Sorry, older folks are always a bit talkative," Dumbledore said, standing up.

His opening remarks elicited laughter from the students, but no one showed any sign of disgust. Those who wanted to listen listened, while those who didn't focused on their steaks.

Dumbledore didn't waste the students' mealtime either; he said:

"First of all, I need to emphasize again that Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you not to cast spells in the corridors for the four hundred and twenty-sixth time. Secondly, it's about your Defense Against the Dark Arts class."

"This is your Professor Umbridge. As you all know, Voldemort has been resurrected. Therefore, in order to be able to provide timely support to the school in case of emergencies, the Ministry of Magic has sent someone to stay at the school this year as..."

But the headmaster, halfway through his sentence, suddenly seemed to have a knot in his tongue. He turned to look at Umbridge, who had stood up, and simply sat down, leaving the rest of his words to her.

Perhaps it was an illusion, but Nietzsche noticed that Professor Glendale's murderous gaze only appeared for a fleeting moment.

Well, they've already angered some powerful wizards as soon as they arrived at school. Someone's going to go to jail!

“Ahem, my purpose in being stationed at the school is to maintain constant contact with the Ministry of Magic and to oversee your curriculum. I believe you will all learn a great deal, and I would like to become your friend,” Umbridge said in a high-pitched voice.

Nobody took her seriously, especially the Slytherins, who had started mocking her behind her back.

“Look at her pink sweater, it’s so old-fashioned…” Theodore grinned mischievously.

"Tch, that idiot, only she treats this like a treasure." Daphne arrogantly forked a piece of chicken, unable to resist revealing some information.

“What do you mean?” Nietzsche asked.

"This old woman can't do anything. She was always interfering when I was setting up the new department. If you ask me, she annoyed Fudge and was thrown here... After all, Fudge doesn't lack people who want to flatter him."

With Daphne's explanation, even fewer people cared.

Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? Sorry, they only recognize Professor Glendale, the only one who didn't die from the curse and who comes up with something new every year. That's the real deal.

“But she’s still a professor, so she must have some real power…” the young New Snake said.

"That's true, but the school is ultimately under the jurisdiction of Headmaster Dumbledore. If the two professors really have a conflict, whose side will the headmaster take?"

The students below ignored her, focusing on their food, but Umbridge remained oblivious, continuing to stand on the stage and spout nonsense.

“Dark wizards are extremely dangerous individuals. This semester, I will help you raise your defenses against dark magic to another level…” she said.

Nietzsche had noticed that Dumbledore had placed his hand on the back of the old professor's hand and was gently patting it, as if to soothe the other's agitated emotions.

Sigh~ You know, the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts isn't one that just anyone can hold.

After Umbridge finally finished speaking, the bewildered freshmen below prepared to give a token clapping, but as soon as they raised their hands, Dumbledore stood up again.

"Getting back to the main topic..." the principal said sarcastically, "Alright, I also want to introduce a professor of Neo-Ancient Runic Literature. Some of you may have already met him. His name is Quirinas Quirrell."

“Quirkro…the first-year Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?!” Neville of Gryffindor could hardly hide his shock. “Didn’t you say he was dead?”

Students from fifth grade and above were all amazed; they were all students who had taken the course years ago.

At that moment, Quirrell strode in from outside the hall, ignoring the various gazes from the main guests, and simply greeted the students around him.

She still wore the familiar headscarf and had the familiar shy smile, but now she didn't stutter when she spoke.

"I am honored to lead you into the realm of ancient magic and to explore those unknown territories, everyone," Quirrell said with a calm and fluent smile. "You don't need to spend time trying to decipher what I'm saying now."

"Professor, is it too late to switch to an elective course now?"

"There's no time, but if you have the time, I'll allow you to sit in..."

This round of applause was a stark contrast to Umbridge's previous silence. It's true that some people can talk a lot and no one will listen, while others will return to receive praise.

Nie clapped vigorously, and he laughed, a genuine and hearty laugh.

Chapter 309 Snape Wants to See the Shadow of an Old Friend

"Incredible! How many more people will be resurrected in the future?" Warrington was astonished by Professor Quirrell's appearance.

Many people were talking about Quirinas Quiro, which displeased Umbridge on stage, as if she should be the one being noticed.

Barrow, the Blood Man ghost from Slytherin, also floated down; he was very interested in the topic of 'resurrection'.