Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Nietzsche's words deeply wounded Snape's heart, as if someone had brazenly pulled back the bathroom curtains, causing him immense humiliation.

"Then care about the living, my Dean," Nietzsche advised softly. "Since you understand that they are more important than you, why pretend you do care? Is it because of the Principal's orders?"

“You know nothing about his plans!” Snape actually started defending the headmaster.

"for example?"

"For example, have you ever considered what would happen if Malfoy whispered something in the Mystic's ear? I would be exposed! Decades of effort could be wasted overnight; we could have been disrupting the enemy..."

Snape became more and more excited as he spoke, and saliva even sputtered from his tongue between his yellow teeth.

“I don’t need it,” Nietzsche replied with a smile, maintaining proper etiquette.

Seeing the professor stutter as he was abruptly interrupted, he repeated clearly, "I, no, need... All we need to do is slowly whittle down Voldemort's army."

This is Nietzsche's principle—danger means uncertainty, and he disliked situations that were out of his control.

Nietzsche was unsure whether Voldemort, the madman whose split soul could drive him insane at any moment, would suddenly become suspicious. If suspicion did arise, the undercover agent would have to pay an even higher price to fill the void called 'loyalty'.

Besides, if we're talking about value, Snape's value as a living person is the highest.

“So you…” Snape was momentarily stunned.

“Fear is not a good motivator; only hope is.” Harry used a spoon to scoop up the potion and handed it to the professor. “Enjoy your time at school, okay? By the way, Harry doesn’t want to be his father.”

From an outsider's perspective, Nietzsche was simply having his classwork checked and had appeased the professor with a perfect energy boost.

"No need..." These three words slammed into Snape's mind.

He was no longer an undercover agent; he could now fully assume the roles of Potions professor and Head of Slytherin. To be honest, he never felt he would have another chance to enjoy life at school.

But then he suddenly remembered Nietzsche's words.

"Potter doesn't want to be his father? What does that mean?"

As luck would have it, the bell rang, and Nietzsche quickly tidied up his things, stuffing the kraft paper that had been covering the desk into Hermione's schoolbag.

"Why do you, like Black, always think that Harry *must* or *want* to be James? Why don't you go ask him? Lupin talked a lot about you during the summer," Nietzsche said with a strange look in his eyes.

A group of people crowded in line at the entrance of the underground classroom, rushing to the back.

Nietzsche also overheard Harry bragging to his friends about his achievements that day: because Malfoy was 'expelled' from the Ministry of Magic, he was in a good mood and didn't make a single mistake while preparing the potion.

"Looking at it this way, potions aren't so difficult after all. The mistakes I made before must have been because I was always asked to prepare the materials for Malfoy," Harry boasted.

"Don't get too excited," Hermione couldn't help but say.

"What? Those pureblood bastards have all been chased away, what else could have happened?" Ron looked at Nietzsche with admiration.

“I’m talking about Harry.” Hermione patted Harry’s shoulder earnestly, her tone full of pity. “Without Malfoy, Professor Snape will enjoy life to the fullest.”

These words sent chills down Harry's spine, and he instinctively bent his back and lowered his head.

"Is he going to cause trouble for Malfoy?" he asked anxiously.

“No, it might be worse than that,” Nietzsche said, feeling that it wasn’t quite accurate. “But it won’t be bad for you.”

To be honest, Nietzsche was also very curious about what would happen between Harry, who longed for recognition, and Professor Snape, who was filled with probing and guilt.

Chapter 330 Voldemort: Something's not right, something's very wrong.

Voldemort was very frustrated. Although he had been resurrected as planned, his current situation was not much better: he had nowhere to stay, and his Death Eaters were depressed all day long.

Something's not right. He's the infamous Voldemort, shouldn't he be afraid of the wizarding world? Why do his men look so grim, like they've lost their sons... Oh, and sure enough, a few of them are dead.

This is a house in the English countryside, nestled by the sea and protected by the Faithful Charm. It's so remote that even riding a broomstick to the nearest Muggle town would take more than half an hour.

The room was dimly lit and filled with the smell of fish, which made Lucius Malfoy, who was lying on the carpet, very uncomfortable.

“Master, our strength is not enough to start a war.” Malfoy turned his head and could still see the house owner’s photo and fishing gear hanging on the wall. His pupils began to dilate and his mind began to wander.

This Muggle is dead... Of course he's dead, what, did he go to the Death Eaters' ancestral home?

The ancestral home used to exist, but ever since Nietzsche took control of the Ministry of Magic, the remaining assets of other pure-blood families have been confiscated. Fudge was so eager to dig up the foundations that he wanted to destroy them.

"Where are the werewolves? Didn't I order Fenrir to expand our army?" Voldemort said lazily, leaning back on the sofa.

“The wolfsbane, when combined with your poison, is very effective; we’ve already caused quite a stir.” Fenrir, the bushy-haired man beside him, paused, his voice beginning to tremble. “But then…”

"Ok?"

"But later, the werewolf successfully transformed less and less often... I don't know, Master! I promise I did everything according to your instructions... Maybe someone has created an antidote."

The Death Eaters exchanged bewildered glances. They all knew how powerful Voldemort's potions were, and the opponent's physical body was the strongest proof of that.

Is there anyone who can surpass this master in potions? This...this madman?

“An antidote? But I don’t recall hearing about any wolfsbane antidote when I killed Damocles Belby.” Voldemort stroked the python that had crawled up the railing and said softly, “In the entire British wizarding world, only Snape has that ability.”

Upon hearing the name, Malfoy's gaze began to focus like a camera.

Narcissa Malfoy knelt beside her husband, her hand pressed against the rough carpet, slowly resting on Lucius's hand in a comforting gesture.

“It can’t be him, maybe it’s those two Mudbloods… Draco said their potion-making results were excellent, excellent enough to make Snape take notice,” Narcissa said firmly, taking a deep breath.

In fact, she didn't know whether Snape was related to the antidote for wolfsbane, and even if he was, she had to clear Snape of suspicion.

Just then, a madwoman burst into the house. Ignoring the group of Death Eaters below who dared not make a move, she ran barefoot to Voldemort's feet and devoutly kissed his hand.

Narcissa knew this person all too well, for it was her sister, Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Sissi~ Guess what interesting thing I found?" Bellatrix swayed her hips and threw a torn copy of the Daily Prophet on the ground. "Snape betrayed Lord Dark Lord!"

Even Mrs. Malfoy couldn't dislike this newspaper that she'd dug out of some trash can, but when she looked down at its contents, she almost fainted.

The entire report stated: 'The sole heir to the Malfoy family has been identified as a potential Death Eater...and will be taken to the Ministry of Magic's investigation team for questioning...'

“I told you he was unreliable. I knew it from the time he was eyeing that dirty little mudblood!” Bellatrix boasted smugly, watching her sister’s panicked expression.

Narcissa and Lucius felt a lump in their throats when they saw their son's distraught face in the photograph.

They had only one thought—to rescue Draco Malfoy.

Of course, it was impossible for just two people to storm the entire Ministry of Magic, and Voldemort had no reason to attack the Ministry of Magic for the sake of the Death Eaters, thus exposing himself once again to Dumbledore's sight.

Amidst the cold stares and ridicule of those around him, Lucius urgently came up with a solution: to give Voldemort a reason to attack the Ministry of Magic.

“Master, this is a good opportunity.” He glanced contemptuously at Fenrir beside him and said in a feignedly fierce manner, “We can use Draco to infiltrate the Ministry of Magic, get our hands on that prophecy, and even take over the Ministry of Magic.”

"I've said it before, prophecies no longer hold true." Voldemort said this, but still lowered his snake-like face.

The other Death Eaters didn't understand what they were talking about and could only silently count the footprints on the carpet.

The prophecy was something Voldemort once coveted; it contained the truth of 'the Savior defeating the Dark Lord,' and it was said that whoever could see the future could change everything.

“But we can’t guarantee that the prophecy won’t be changed,” Lucius Malfoy said honestly. “Perhaps Dumbledore knew the future was going to happen, which is why he was able to put us in this position.”

Of course, he had never been particularly interested in prophecies; it was Voldemort who was truly intrigued.

And indeed, this was the case. After Voldemort's resurrection, he increasingly doubted his own judgment, as if he were always being led by the nose. He had no idea what the future held and was completely unfamiliar with everything that was about to happen.

In his mind, Muggles didn't know magic; Dumbledore wouldn't just indiscriminately slaughter Death Eaters...

The fear of the unknown made Voldemort even more impatient; he needed to know the prophecy, to know the future, and to change it.

"How dare you!" Bellatrix shouted, pointing a finger at Malfoy with her sharp nails. "It is your stupidity and weakness that have led to this situation, that has prevented the Dark Lord from being suppressed!"

"Mmm-hmm." Lucius nodded perfunctorily.

Whatever Bellatrix's sarcastic remarks were, he agreed with them without any reason... Who would go against a madman?

It must be said that Lucius's reasoning hit Voldemort right where it hurts. The Dark Lord's greatest fear is death, and he also fears that everything he has will be taken away by others, just like Dumbledore back then.

"Alright, let's hear how our Lucius gets into the Ministry of Magic," Voldemort said, stopping Bellatrix from screaming and cursing.

Malfoy then pointed to Broderick Bode, who was holding Draco captive, and said, "I know this Silent Man. He was a colleague of August Lukewood, who was an inside man in the Ministry of Magic back in the day."

Voldemort rolled his eyes upwards, and within five seconds, a man from the back of the room scrambled and crawled to Malfoy's side.

"Yes, it's him, I recognize him." Lukewood glanced at the newspaper and confessed truthfully.

“So we can use the Imperius Curse to control Baldr…” Lucius, having received a response, continued before the Dark Lord’s nature subsided, “The Silent Ones have their own system, and no one will suspect their identity.”

This perfect answer left Voldemort with no reason to refuse. Everyone held their breath, waiting for orders amidst the hissing of the python and the madwoman's flattery.

Malfoy desperately called upon the Dark Lord in his heart, hoping he would agree to the plan.

Finally, Voldemort spoke up: "You want to use this opportunity to rescue your son? How naive... Bellatrix, bring the newspaper closer so I can see... Not bad, I like his eyes."

“Draco is of great use, Master. You know, Dumbledore always liked that magical theory of ‘love’.”

“You’re clever, Malfoy. You could have used Baldur to rescue your son on your own, but you always like to find a plausible reason for your actions. But I like it… You’re right, Draco is very useful,” Voldemort said with a smile.

Although it was a warning, it also meant that he had agreed, so the Malfoys breathed a sigh of relief.

However, this was merely a small trick that Nietzsche Holmes learned from numerous brushes with death: proactively revealing parts of one's actions is a better way to lure the enemy into a trap... a lesson learned from Moriarty.

Chapter 331 A Christmas in Gradual Collapse

While Voldemort was gathering his men to discuss how to infiltrate the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts was preparing for this year's Christmas decorations and undertaking a massive amount of homework in the snow.

As the holidays approach, Hermione's workload is getting heavier; she needs to keep in touch with her parents while also keeping an eye on Peeves.

Harry's situation was even worse. He had to attend classes during the day, patrol the corridors during breaks, and receive... well... Nietzsche would call it a 'knowledge quiz' from Professor Snape at night.

"I really wish I could go back to Sirius's house this holiday, but unfortunately I can't," Harry said angrily after attending his last Applied Magic class before Christmas. "Snape actually said I need to learn something truly useful?"

“Isn’t that good? He’s helping you,” Nietzsche said.

"But what gives him the audacity to offer to help me now?"

Clearly, Harry didn't want to accept this favor; he just wanted to tell Snape that he was wrong.

They followed the others through the trapdoor, and soon the spacious basement was filled with the chanting of various spells and the buzzing of lightsabers.

Throughout November, after Malfoy and the others left the school, Hogwarts was peaceful, and because some unnecessary fighting was avoided, everyone devoted most of their energy to their studies.

And under Quirrell's guidance, a new batch of wizards emerged:

The army of righteous gentlemen doesn't just foolishly chant a few evil spells; they utilize the essence of magic in battle, and when necessary, they engage in close combat...

Just then, Daphne and Hermione entered, and the two girls rushed to him with tense expressions.