Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

The weather was still overcast, and a light rain was falling. Looking up, you could see a lot of rainwater accumulating on the transparent dome of the Great Hall. Fortunately, Slytherin's classes today were all inside the castle.

After Hermione finished disciplining the unruly Weasley twins, she turned around and saw Nietzsche and Marvolo sitting side by side.

"When did you two become so close?" she asked, puzzled.

“Well… we have a good understanding.” Marvolo swallowed a piece of bread with milk before continuing, “And we do have some things in common, like we both hate Umbridge.”

“Common ground? How come I didn’t know Nietzsche had also harmed me?” Ginny Weasley said through gritted teeth.

Since the locked-room mystery in the second grade was unsolvable, Marvolo Sisyphus simply pretended to be deaf and dumb.

However, the others who didn't know the specifics were completely confused and didn't understand why Ginny and Marvolo had such a bad relationship, which gave the Weasley twins a real headache.

On one hand, he was helping his new friend, and on the other hand, he was helping his younger sister.

“Alright, let’s deal with the magic issue first…” Nietzsche looked at Hermione and asked, “Can I borrow the pendant? I want to find a breakthrough by looking at us.”

Hermione had always kept the pendant, which resembled a miniature potion bottle, close to her body, so when Nietzsche took it, he could still feel its warmth.

Logically speaking, he never believed in prophecies, but whenever he thought about how this pendant, which served as a 'blood pact protector,' was originally given to Hermione by Professor Glendale, several veins on both sides of his head would throb.

The more deeply I delved into runes, the more something felt off...

'It's best not to take advantage of her.' Nietzsche instinctively made the worst assumption in his mind.

The first lesson was Defense Against the Dark Arts, and based on Umbridge's performance last night, no one had high expectations for her.

They entered the classroom and found Professor Umbridge already sitting by the wall, wearing a bright red women's coat and a black bow on her head, like a poison dart frog with a large black tumor on its body.

The other person seemed to have noticed Nietzsche's gaze, so they quickly put on a smiling face.

“Students, I’ve heard that you’ve never had a stable professor, and last year it was even a Death Eater,” Umbridge said after everyone was seated. “But that won’t happen anymore. The Ministry of Magic will guarantee your teaching system.”

However, the Slytherins only responded perfunctorily with "um... ah..." or "great."

Theodore looked around, searching for Professor Glendale, even abandoning the most basic pretense, which displeased Umbridge.

"The OWLs exam is next June, and I hope that all of you will reach a passing level in terms of theoretical knowledge..." But she still maintained a haughty demeanor.

"Where is Professor Glendale?" Theodore couldn't help but interrupt the long and tedious opening remarks.

“Ahem… Just as I was going to say, your associate professor is quite rude in his teaching and often injures students,” Professor Umbridge said, turning slightly to appear more composed. “It’s for your safety…”

"So, you don't plan to let him teach us!"

Many students exchanged disappointed glances, knowing that anything unrelated to 'practice' was always boring and never the magic class the young wizards imagined.

But Umbridge, who was constantly being interrupted, became impatient and asked in a coquettish voice, "What's your name?"

“Me? Theodore Nott.”

“Very well, Mr. Nott, were you injured in class last year?” Umbridge said.

"Of course, injuries are common when practicing magic..." Theodore didn't think it was a big deal; it wasn't like he was losing an arm or a leg.

“That’s right, professors should reduce the risk of danger to students,” Umbridge said, pulling out her twisted logic, “instead of waiting until danger strikes before taking protective measures.”

In short, forget about learning any new magic; they were instructed to take out "Theory of Magical Defense" and a quill pen.

But one person didn't move—Draco Malfoy. He seemed to be retaliating for his experience last night, deliberately making his hand tremble a few times as he took the textbook out of his bag, using the pain to cover up the act of throwing "Defense of Magic Theory" on the ground.

How unwilling they were to have fallen from their former high and mighty status as nobles to being bullied by the Ministry of Magic.

“Mr. Malfoy, pick it up!” Umbridge said in a shrill voice.

"I'm sorry, Professor, please forgive my clumsiness," Malfoy said dismissively, raising his bandaged right hand.

“That was just a small punishment…” Umbridge jumped up from her chair, glanced at Nietzsche, and then continued in her fake girlish voice, “Stop pretending. You’re not that Malfoy anymore.”

This almost reopened Malfoy's wounds, and Nietzsche saw his gloomy eyes begin to harden.

“That’s not necessarily true. Who knows who will still be standing in the future?” Malfoy said.

“It seems some of you haven’t grasped the situation yet. Malfoy, starting tomorrow, you will be in solitary confinement every night!” Umbridge added unilaterally. “Students, the Ministry of Magic and the school will guarantee your safety.”

She seemed to think Malfoy's words would really scare the other students; Daphne almost burst out laughing.

In the ensuing practice, Nietzsche ignored what Umbridge was saying for the entire class, instead writing in his notebook about the connection between belief and runes, since that pink toad wouldn't dare to object anyway.

It's just dogs fighting, who cares? He might even be hoping they fight even harder.

Chapter 315 The Prototype of Rune Magic

This year's Defense Against the Dark Arts class turned out to be the most boring class in history, with many students using it to secretly do their history of magic assignments... Why not? After all, Professor Binns is more interesting than Umbridge.

But based on Nietzsche's 'hint,' Umbridge could only endure the students' disdain, so she vented all her pent-up anger on Malfoy.

It's unclear what punishment that old toad imposed, but during Friday's Metamorphosis class, Nietzsche overheard Professor McGonagall complaining about Malfoy's absence during class time.

“I hope you don’t mess with that old woman,” Professor McGonagall said. “Imagine if she starts associating you with the Death Eaters, you won’t have any time to prepare for the OWLs exam.”

This is quite an interesting story for most Slytherins: the head of Gryffindor actually stood up for the little snake?

"Umbridge wants to use Malfoy to find the Death Eaters?" Theodore put down the instruction manual on the Vanishing Charm and asked curiously.

“First, there’s the ‘professor’ title, and second… yes, that’s right, she thinks she’s qualified.” McGonagall curled her lip, slowly revealing a look of disdain, “just like she thinks she’s qualified to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.”

Other students, however, disagreed: "That's a good thing."

“But I don’t want you to think that way. As your professor, if I have doubts about a student, it means that all of you are equally suspected. If we continue to teach... Mr. Malfoy probably won’t be able to come.”

Nietzsche thought to himself: Then what happened next is not my fault.

At first, he only framed someone in a small way, but this incident made Malfoy want to take revenge, which angered Umbridge. That's what happened between them.

This is actually a good thing, because Draco Malfoy, as a new toy, is very likely to attract the pink toad's attention.

After class, Nietzsche quickly broke free from the OWLs exam review point of Metamorphosis. It was George and Fred who seemed to always maintain an optimistic spirit and were always laughing and joking.

George took off his clothes and used them as a bag to hold a large pile of small badges.

“We wrote a letter to Dad,” George said.

"Then when Dad heard that you could solve things he couldn't, he immediately got a whole bunch of amulets from the Ministry of Magic," Fred continued.

"But Dad said the minister is actually quite satisfied with the quality of the current amulets."

The Weasley twins have a very pleasing way of speaking; they can break down a single point into several sentences, which they then deliver in sequence.

Minister Fudge was certainly satisfied. Wizard battles are often completed in an instant, and an Ironclad Charm amulet that doesn't require chanting is enough to increase the margin for error, but it wasn't enough for Nietzsche.

How could the Ironclad Charm possibly withstand the firepower of Muggles?

“Thank you… where’s Hermione?” Nietzsche lifted his knotted sleeve and took the heavy school robe from their hands.

“In class,” George added, with a hint of envy, “not Umbridge’s class.”

This was tough on Nietzsche, who had to carry all these things from the second floor to the Room of Requirement by himself. He sat in the empty room... Now that the first step was complete, the next step was to start manually inscribing the runes.

He took out his wand, looked at the wood grain, and heard Ollivander's exclamation in his ear. He could also see the wand core inside—black unicorn hair.

It wasn't ordinary black; it was like a few shiny bits occasionally appearing in toner. It was a black that reflected light, rather than absorbed it.

Nietzsche composed himself, took out Hermione's necklace, activated the runes on it, and used his wand to draw the small tree branch-like symbol in the air exactly as it was.

And then what? Just put them on those badges?

This won't work. The runic symbol that has been copied and drawn is meaningless. Nietzsche still needs to put his will into it.

Although the runes are the same, their meanings are different from his feelings for Hermione.

'Because of the effect of being protected, is it my belief that protects the holder?' Nietzsche himself was unsure.

Hesitation meant failure, so the golden, sapling-shaped spark dissipated, and the small badge also developed an identical crack, rendering the original Ironclad Spell ineffective.

Consumables, every failure costs half a Galleon.

Nietzsche had no choice but to try again, but he failed several times in a row. Only then did he realize what Quirinus meant by burden—it was difficult to give up everything to protect a stranger.

"Sigh~ Now you can see the benefits of blood as a carrier." He twisted his waist and tossed a licorice wand into his mouth.

Blood is something a person is born with, making it easy for a spellcaster to clearly define their goal and strengthen their belief. But if the medium is a fleeting thought that changes almost every second, that would be much more difficult.

People can't suddenly develop a protective instinct towards unfamiliar things without any apparent reason, right? If that's the case, then it's a psychological disorder.

Nietzsche is like that now; the thought of these things falling into enemy hands makes his resolve waver, and the key is that he can't control whether that will happen...

Or rather, he was weighing the pros and cons.

"So is the gun wrong?" Nietzsche's thoughts began to ferment in the empty room, and he started talking to himself.

'It's merely a product of a new world, capable of being both a tool for the Purifiers to assassinate innocent people and a weapon for the SHD to protect ordinary citizens.'

"But what I can create... is merely a thought of mine."

'But who can be sure that this magic won't be born again in this world besides you? Perhaps when the wizards can no longer sustain the costs of war, this magic will emerge through another great person.'

The black walnut wood on the wand was slightly warm, and the magic within it flowed through Nietzsche's body as he engaged in his inner dialogue, coursing through every nerve and meridian.

Nietzsche steadied himself and patiently began to draw the runes in the air again and again, ignoring the ever-growing number of broken amulets, as he repeatedly drew magic from his body...

So, what about the object?

Nietzsche repeatedly told himself: This is just a tool, a magic that uses one's own thoughts as a vehicle. Don't think about whether it's 'worth it'. You should protect the present for the sake of the future.

Living with Sherlock Holmes instilled in him a small habit: paying close attention to details.

This 'detail' is not just a subtle change; when viewed on a macro level, it represents a series of vibrant yet insignificant lives. For example, if a gear were missing from a clock, how would the hands continue to move?

"In any case, let's first keep people alive." Nietzsche calmed himself, frowned, and poured his hopes into the project one last time.

Can it be successful?

At least this time, the runic symbols imbued with Nietzsche's will could be integrated into the amulet enchanted with the Ironclad Curse. As for the effect, Nietzsche himself didn't know. The only thing he was sure of now was that he was very... sleepy!

It didn't hurt, but his mind suddenly went blank, and he was too lazy to think about anything else, only wanting to take a nap in this pile of scrap metal...

He fell asleep from exhaustion, without even having time to think about the future of this protective magic: perhaps the burden would not be 'Nietzsche's will,' but rather the faith that others would develop because of their protection.

The amulet held in his hand shimmered with a blue-white halo in the dimly lit room where every wish could be fulfilled.

Chapter 316 The Army of Upright Gentlemen (Nation)

"Unbelievable...you actually did it?"